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Thursday, April 28, 2011

FFF: In Pairs


We were in a nice restaurant, and he was putting the red wine down hard and fast. Topping off our glasses with the remainder of the bottle, he motioned at the two empty seats at the table.

"Did you ever notice that they have to go to the ladies room in pairs? What the hell is up with that? What goes on in there anyway? Two guys would never go to the men's room together."

I agreed that we wouldn't. And as I listened to him ramble, I'll admit I was curious what you were doing in the ladies room. While we all got along well, I knew that you considered his blonde trophy wife a bit arrogant.

Just then the two of you reappeared. I noticed that you looked a bit flushed, and the private wink you gave me piqued my curiosity.

Later, as I pulled the chair out and helped you up, you whispered in my ear, "I've found us a playmate."



The challenge this week was: 120-240 words.
The phrase "...hard and fast..." must be used.
Go see Panser's Lair to see who else is participating!

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

e[lust] #25


Photo courtesy of Sadie

Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. And in this edition you can read all about the best sexuality conference of the year (ever?), Momentum, in a one-time-only Editor's Choice anomaly: I couldn't choose just one, so I chose them all! Want to be included in e[lust] #26? Start with the rules and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Where We Are - It was only supposed to be about the fucking. I don't know how I convinced myself that it could be. I fretted before we began, about how I could ever possibly separate sex from emotion.

The Edible Slut - His hand made an audible crack as it connected with her ass, loud in the dim bedroom. Did he really sink his hand into her hair, turn her head to face him, and shout, “Stop being such a brat!”

Beyond Bisexual - I don’t identify as bisexual, because I am interested in so many more people than just two of the variety of sexes or genders out there. Except, that is a word that a lot of people understand.

~ Featured: Momentum Conference Posts (Lilly’s Picks) ~

An Extraordinary Gathering (and a Gathering of the Extraordinary)
Finally! A Real Momentum Post
Inspired by MomentumCon
#mcon Rehash
Momentum
Momentumcon, Part One

~ e[lust] Editress ~

To Be or Not To Be....Anonymous, That Is - If you’re out or decide to be out….you’re not just outing yourself. You’re outing them all. And did they give their consent? Probably not, I’d guess. And even if they did give their consent could they even have a clue what consequences there will be?

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Thank you, and enjoy!

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

A Bump In The Road - A Swinger Party Goes Bad
Bridging the Gap (Between Swinging and BDSM)
con-sent
Eating Pussy
Jane Says: What Does Sex Feel Like For A Man?
Let's talk about food
Safe Word
S&M And Abuse
The Rules, Revisited
The Wet Patch
Who Cares About Your Open Relationship
Where There's Smoke...

Kink & Fetish

BDSM Advice: Nipple Clamps
bloodfucking
Communicating by touch
Consent [Violated]
Debasement
getting ready...
He mixed pleasure and pain, and my body responded to it all
Invitation
Stolen
Safety Scissors
Topping From the Bottom: An Ode
Wantonly Restrained
You Can Make It Feel So Real

Erotic Writing

3. Wrath
Cunt Licking
Definition of Inspiration
Linger
Miss Me?
My Sex Life: The Journey Continues, Part 2
Silk Memories
Sexy Dance-Ing
teacher sweaters and the cock that haunts me
The Casino
The miseducation of Ms. Mullins
Wow. Confession #558
When I come
WWWednesday
You Want This

Saturday, April 23, 2011

On Anonymity

I've seen a couple good posts recently on blogging and anonymity, and it's something I think about. When I started blogging, my explicit goal was that even if a sibling or very close friend stumbled on my blog, they wouldn't be able to tell for certain that it was me. (This doesn't include the Sensual Goddess, who encouraged me from the start to blog.)

I realized after a few months of blogging that I almost certainly had not met my goal. I was careful not to talk about too many potentially identifying things - like "I'm leaving on a trip to X" or "Angelina wants to adopt another third-world baby - I'm starting to think she's seriously crazy."  But someone who knows me in real life would almost certainly be able to map some of my posts to real-life events. Moreover, the Sensual Goddess (who may be biased), says that my writing "voice" is as unmistakable as a fingerprint, and that anyone who read me in other forums (fora?) would look at this blog and identify me instantly.

I have a mixed mind on anonymity. In most (all?) ways, my opinions here reflect my truest and most honest self. While Max is in some ways a mask, it's a mask that allows me to be more myself than I can be in other places. The things I've labeled as "reminiscing" really happened as closely as I was able to recall and document - without embellishment or exhaggeration. The things I've written on love and relationships are my very real opinions. I really think the world would be an all-around happier place if everyone put these ideas into practice.

So why don't I have the courage to stand up in public and state these opinions, if I really believe them?  First, the obvious reason of respectability. I have a job I'd like to keep, and a reputation as an upstanding citizen - and I value that in some ways. Also, it's not just about me. I have family and loved ones who I don't want to be subjected to unwanted attention for their association with me. In my own mind, these aren't really good reasons, and I think that when family circumstances evolve in a few years that I may be willing to be more public with my beliefs.

I now look at anonymity from the perspective of the Google search. I've tried not list list enough facts about myself that a blog reader could plug those facts into Google and have a reasonable chance of finding me. (Parentheticaly, true anonymity from Google (i.e., blogger.com) is a lost battle - if a government agency wanted to know who any of us on blogger.com was, they could be at our front door in 15 minutes. But that's a separate issue.)

In some ways, this isn't a happy realization. I'm basically counting on the fact that I'm a tiny fish in a huge ocean, and will most likely never get any kind of scrutiny. If it ever seems like that assumption isn't true, or I was "outed" in some way, I would likely pull the plug on this instantly. And even that wouldn't really do any good - Google erases nothing. So let's just hope it never comes to that.

"The Night Pat Murphy Died"

For my Saturday "dash of happy" song, I've selected "The Night Pat Murphy Died", by Great Big Sea.  It might sound like an odd choice for a happy song, but I think it is, and I can't listen to it and not smile broadly.
Oh the night that Paddy Murphy died, is a night I'll never forget
Some of the boys got loaded drunk, and they ain't got sober yet;
As long as a bottle was passed around every man was feelin' gay
O'Leary came with the bagpipes, some music for to play

Chorus:
That's how they showed their respect for Paddy Murphy
That's how they showed their honour and their pride;
They said it was a sin and shame and they winked at one another
And every drink in the place was full the night Pat Murphy died

They stopped the hearse on George Street outside Sundance Saloon
They all went in at half past eight and staggered out at noon
They went up to the graveyard, so holy and sublime
Found out when they got there, they'd left the corpse behind!

Chorus
And thinking about it, that's exactly how I want to be sent off. All my friends and loved ones drinking, telling stories and jokes at my expense, singing, dancing, and making love.  If you've got bagpipes, bring 'em.  Give me a proper rollicking send-off.  And I'm certain my friends will really do this.

We'll meet again somewhere down the road, and there will always be more time for drinking, dancing, singing, loving.  I think that's a happy thought.


Thursday, April 21, 2011

FFF: Orient Express


I had been on the Orient Express all the way from Paris, and Istanbul was still hours away. I was taking a little time off after the completion of my last job - both to forget the stress, and to put some distance between myself and the scene of the...operation.

I had a private berth in the sleeper, but I was spending most of my time in the lounge car - reading, smoking, drinking coffee, and watching the landscape roll past. My thoughts now were of the encounter I'd had last night with a young woman.

She sat next to me at dinner and we had a friendly conversation. I got the idea that she was on a modified version of the Grand Tour - seeing the sights before presumably settling down into a marriage arranged by her rich parents. I gave her my opinion on some places she should see, and she was delightfully bubbly. But I was well aware that she was being watched like a hawk by a chaperone - an elderly woman who looked at me with all the disapproval she could muster.

As the meal was ending, she put her hand on my knee, slowly moved it higher on my thigh, and thanked me for my advice. And with a knowing smile, said that maybe we would see more of each other before Istanbul. I smiled politely and excused myself.

I spent the evening in the lounge, giving the matter no more thought. But sometime after midnight, as I made my way down the dim corridor toward my berth, a door opened a crack, a hand touched my arm, and a breathy voice whispered, "Monsieur."

She pulled me into the berth and backed me up against the wall with a strength that surprised me. Her lips sought mine and we kissed urgently. My hands felt the thin lace of a nightgown as she pushed the coat off my shoulders and ripped the shirt out of my pants.

There was a sharp rap from behind us, from what must have been an adjoining door. "Mademoiselle!"

Apparently the chaperone never slept. I whispered, "I'm in sleeper 3B. Be there in an hour."

The impatient little vixen tapped on my door in 40 minutes, but I was ready. I took her hard and urgently the first time, exactly as she wanted. Then we slowed down and I explored her body thoroughly, showing her things that her schoolboy lovers obviously never had. Fully recovered, I then took her my way - a little slower, but just as intensely, and she was begging for mercy as I emptied myself inside her for the second time.

We must have dozed, because daylight was streaming in the window when we awoke. She jumped up in a panic and started scrambling for her clothes. Then she looked back and saw me watching her, erect and ready, a predator's look in my eye. She gave me an unspoken invitation, and I was on her in a flash. I pinned her against the wall of the berth, right up against the window, entering her in one savage thrust. Her scream must have awakened half the train, but I didn't care.

Now, hours later, with breakfast finished, I relaxed in the smoking car with another coffee. I listened to the rumors - apparently a young heiress had escaped the watch of her chaperone in the night. They had cut short their trip, de-training in Bucharest in the early morning.

I listened without expression and motioned to the porter for a refill on my coffee.

Today's Free Fiction Friday is brought to us by Lexi.  Her challenge is to write not less than 500 words on the picture above.  Many thanks to Lexi for filling in this Friday.  Hopefully Flash Fiction Friday will return next week.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Quick Thinking

I've read a few blog posts recently on being caught by kids in embarrassing (or potentially embarrassing) situations. We've never been caught in the act. Kids *have* knocked on the bedroom door and come in at potentially bad times, but we always heard the knock and were able to de-couple and act like nothing was happening. But there was one time. We got a question that seemed like it had no good answer.

This happened years ago, and the kids were maybe in the 5-8 year-old range. It was a weekend morning and we were all in my bedroom talking about something. The bed was unmade and the blankets were down. One of the girls noticed stains on the sheets. Big stains. The kind of stains I'm capable of making after being pent up for a few days.

She pointed at the stains, looked at the Sensual Goddess, and asked innocently, "What happened there?"

The Sensual Goddess looked at me with wide deer-in-the-headlights eyes - speechless, panic-stricken, begging for help.

Thoughts whirled through my head at a million miles per hour. What could we possibly say that wouldn't just lead to more questions?

After what seemed like an hour of expectant silence, but was probably really a second or two, I shrugged and said, "It looks like somebody spilled something."

We held our breath. Would it work?

Thankfully, they accepted that without any further questions. I changed the subject, and we both exhaled. A moment later they bounded happily out of the room. The Sensual Goddess gave me a look that was half grateful awe for her rescue, and the other half an accusing raised eyebrow, as if she had just discovered that I was potentially even badder than she had previously thought possible.

"Somebody spilled something, huh?"

I could only laugh. And I still laugh at the memory. It might be the quickest thinking I've ever done. The answer just popped into my head. And in hindsight, it was perfect. It answered the question truthfully without leading to other questions we didn't really want to answer at that time.

It's a line that still gets play, usually with the accusing, "you're so damn bad" shake of the head.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

"Lovely to See You"

I'll continue my Saturday "dash of happy" musical selection with The Moody Blues' Lovely to See You. It's a beautiful song with perfect lyrics.
A wonderful day for passing my way
Knock on my door and even the score with your eyes
 
Lovely to see you again my friend
Walk along with me to the next bend
I think this is the way life really is. Nothing is permanent. Loved ones come into our life at the right time, they walk with us to the next bend in the road, then we part (again, at just the right time.) The parting should be with gratitude for the moments shared, secure in the knowledge that there will be other shared moments further down the road.  I'm not always successful in thinking this way, but I really do believe that it's the way to happiness.

Friday, April 15, 2011

FFF: Virgin


In the gathering dark on the night of my eighteenth birthday, my older brother guided me into the unmarked building. He exchanged a few words with a heavily-made-up woman at the front desk, and I was led down a dark hallway. I had a pretty good idea what was about to happen, and I was all nervous anticipation.

I entered the room, and there she was. Blonde, beautiful, laying on a bed and draped in a white sheet. Even in my mixture of excitement and fear, I knew the look on her face wasn't lust or anticipation. It was resignation, maybe even a touch of scorn.

But she controlled herself and took charge. She shrugged the sheet off, and I drank in the sight of her gloriously naked body. The look on my face must have been priceless, because she broke into a smile.

"First time, hun?"

I nodded mutely.

"Don't worry, I'll show you what you need to know."



The challenge this week was: 60-160 words.
The phrase "...the gathering dark..." must be used.
Go see Panser's Lair to see who else is participating!

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Ass Play

I lay on my back and you move on top of me, straddling me, getting ready to ride. After some teasing, you finally sink down on me, driving me deep, and I groan out loud. You start moving up and down on my cock, as I play with your nipples and squeeze your ass cheeks.

You move down to kiss me, and our tongues dance. My left hand wraps in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your lips harder into mine. My right hand playfully smacks your ass cheek a few times, then starts to explore between your cheeks. I gather some of your slick wetness on my finger, then I start to tease your tight little asshole. I rub in slow circles as you grind your pussy down with increased vigor.

You break the kiss to accuse me. "You're so damn bad."

But there's the hint of a smile in the accusation, and your actions tell me more than your words - you scoot slightly higher, giving me better access to play with your ass. And I continue playing...teasing you...not pushing my finger in, but flirting with your entrance...giving you an added sensation as you continue riding my cock.

I know the intensity becomes too much for you on top, so I'm not surprised when you come off me and tell me you want it from behind. I'm more than happy to oblige. You get on all fours and I move in behind you. I'm feeling carnal now, like an animal, and you know I'm going to fuck you hard.

Your pussy is absolutely sopping, and I enter you in one long stroke. I start a slow steady rhythm, because I want this to last. I reach down with my right hand and feel my cock sliding in and out of you. I gather your moisture on my middle finger, making sure it's nice and slippery, then I slowly push it into your tight ring. Your moan becomes deeper and more guttural as my finger slides in.

I pause when my finger is in your ass up to the first knuckle. Even though I shouldn't be, I'm still surprised by how tight you are. I start to push my finger deeper, keeping up the slow rhythm of fucking your pussy. When my finger is fully buried in your ass, I slowly withdraw it.

Now you're used to me, and I can start doubly penetrating you with each thrust. My cock and my finger move in unison - thrusting in...pulling out. Your moans of pleasure are now whimpers of orgasm, and I'm having no mercy. I pound your pussy harder and faster, feeling my own climax approaching...and my finger pushes deep into your ass with each stroke.

My orgasm is on me before I know it. With one final savage thrust I push myself into you as deep as I can, trying to fill you completely. I cry out as I release...then I stay inside you for a while as I slowly come down. Finally I withdraw from you, cock and finger sliding out at the same time.  We collapse on the bed, utterly spent.

"You're just wicked."

Heheheh....

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

TMI Tuesday, 4/12/11

1. What is your favorite part of sex?
Wow, I'm not sure I can answer this, any more than I could say my favorite part of a sunset. It's all good. I think I could name 20 favorite parts.  The connection, the intimacy, the variety of sensory experiences. Maybe the initial penetration....

2. Have you asked your significant other or spouse what their biggest sexual fantasy is? Did you like it or are you not interested? What is it?
I asked her just this minute, and she says she's living it every day, here with me. Quite the diplomat, eh?

3. Do you enjoy phone sex?
Oh yes! I love phone sex. With the right partner, the connection and the intimacy are amazing. It's not a substitute for the real thing of course, but it can be pretty damn good. My phone threesome is one of my all-time most erotic memories. (Mary, where are you?)

4. Have you ever had a sexy nickname? How did you get it? What is it?
Not really. The Sensual Goddess will sometimes gasp out, "You're a beast!" Which doesn't do my ego any harm.

5. What’s your favorite color lingerie?
Another one I'm not sure I can answer. So many good options. Black is good, red is good. I also like maroon, light blue, etc., etc. Let's see, what color lingerie *don't* I like?  Hmmmm....

6. Have you ever had sex with "just a friend" and gone back to "just being" friends?
No, I never have. It sounds like it would be very difficult. Once the genie is out of the bottle, very tough to put it back in.

7. If in a romantic relationship or marriage, what is the best thing about it right now?
Laughter, compatible sex drives.

Bonus: How did your last relationship end?
Divorce.

Go see Hedone at The Pleasure Principle to see who else is playing.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Silk Memories (Part 3)

(Continued from here)

Over the next week these scenes repeated with infinite variations. Long baths, feasting, storytelling, music, dance, and endless lovemaking. Sometimes we were alone in my bedchamber, exploring each others' bodies for hours without end. Other times we made love in the baths, the sounds of the splashing water mixing with your soft moans.

You showed me sensual delights that I couldn't have imagined, and coaxed a level of passion, desire, and stamina from me that I could only regard with delighted surprise. It always seemed to me that you were in total control, and even when I was taking you roughly, it seemed to be at your direction.

Occasionally you brought two or three young attendants into my bedchamber. They were your apprentices - young girls from the Ferghana Valley, almost Persian in appearance. You recited a story, and we acted the story out in front of you, coupling in every possible way at your direction. But even when my manhood was buried in one of your moaning assistants, my focus was on you, and the connection between us was as intense as could be. The story always ended with you joining us on the cushions, telling the end of the tale as you guided me to one final release.

We knew our time was limited. As soon as everything was in order, the next caravan would depart eastward for Kashgar, and I would be going with it. When we parted, it was with joy and gratitude, never with sadness or regret. We both knew that we were sharing a road, and would meet again.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

"Get Together"

It's Saturday morning, the sun is shining and the birds are singing. So I'll continue my Saturday "dash of happy" song with The Youngbloods "Get Together." It's a hippie-ish song from the late 60's, but it's happy and optimistic and beautiful.
C'mon people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try and love one another right now

Friday, April 8, 2011

FFF: Molten Ire


I had listened to the demo, and the girl was good. Now we were meeting in my office to talk about a contract. She shifted sensually as we sat on my leather sofa, and I tried not to stare at the braless tits under her tanktop.

"Listening to your demo, I think the first single would be 'Molten Ire.' Great tune, and you've come up with fantastic cover art."

"Why thank you." She blushed slightly. "I'm the artist and the model."

She smiled and moved closer. "I think I'd work out great on your label. We could really help each other."

She reached for my hand and placed it on her breast. I squeezed and kneaded, my fingers finding her hard nipple. I lifted the tanktop over her head, thinking as our lips met that a local distribution deal was certainly possible.

Fifteen minutes later, as my cock hit the back of her throat, I thought a recording contract and regional distribution deal just might work.

Two hours later, I had fucked her backwards, forwards, and upside-down. A long-term deal and national release seemed like the best way to proceed.

She gathered herself together, and we made plans to meet later for dinner. A European Tour wasn't out of the question.



The challenge this week was: 111-222 words.
The phrase "...molten ire..." must be used.
Go see Panser's Lair to see who else is participating!

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Silk Memories (Part 2)

(Continued from here)

It was dark when I awoke, though numerous candles cast a soft glow throughout the bedchamber. I was no sooner awake than you floated into the chamber with a number of attendants, each bearing food and drink. You fed me course after course of delicacies never enjoyed on the road, prepared in ways I couldn't guess, and flavored with hints of spices from the Far East. My goblet was filled with clear, sweet Phrygian wine, and attendants kept it filled almost without my knowing they were there.

As I ate, you asked me for news and stories from the road and from the far-off lands I had seen. And I had stories - more than I could tell in a month. As with all traveler's tales, the more miserable and dangerous the experience was, the more romantic the re-telling.

Time had no meaning - I couldn't say whether the meal lasted one or four hours. I savored every bite of food, every sip of wine, every gaze of your eyes, every word from your lips.

The meal over, attendants cleaned up and left without a word or motion from you. Music now found my ears - beautiful music, not the coarse campfire songs of the road. I heard a flute, a harp, a viol, and a drum coming from unseen musicians. Their music both matched and set the mood, and you began to dance - for yourself and for me.

The dance was slow, sinuous, flowing, sensual. You used the silk robes you were wearing as accessories to the dance, plus scarves and veils that you made flow like liquid. The music ever so slowly increased in tempo and built in tension. But nothing was rushed - this was dance not as foreplay, but dance for its own sensual pleasure, the connection between dancer and watcher as intimate as that between lovers.

Almost imperceptibly, the dancing became lovemaking. The slightest parting of silk garments, and the connection of the dance turned into a connection of bodies. You consumed me with the briefest hint of a smile, continued the dance on me, without interruption. You moved slowly and with infinite grace, coaxing me to join the dance. And I did join, gratefully, matching my motions and rhythm to yours, feeling your grace and intensity all the way down to the very core of my being.

You re-taught me the arts of lovemaking, controlling the pace skillfully, bringing me close to the edge and then backing off. You showed me how intimate the connection could be when two bodies and two spirits join as one. You finally kept me so close to the edge that I thought I would die if I couldn't release. With a knowing smile, you finally guided me over. I groaned deeply at the exquite intensity, filled you with my seed, then passed out as you held me lovingly in your arms.

(Continued here)

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Silk Memories

The memories are so faint, like the echoes of a distant dream, that sometimes I wonder if they really did happen? But then I get still and examine them, turning over the details with loving care, and I know.

I had been with the trade caravans since I was a boy. Now no longer a young man, I knew every inch of the routes between Kashgar and Buchara - where there was water for man and camel, where there was shelter, the passes over the Tien Shan, and where bandits were likely to attack.

Buchara was the endpoint of my westward journey, and I had never been further west. I always hoped that one day I would journey to see the Amu Darya, the famed River Oxus. But it was never to be.

You told me you had never been out of Buchara in your life, and you loved to hear my traveler's tales. Your complex was my first and only stop after I discharged my duties - the settling of the animals and the goods (most important of all, the precious silk), the paying of the men, and then a stop at the temple to give thanks for the completion of a safe journey.

When I reached your place, filthy and dust-covered, feeling more like beast than man, you always seemed to be expecting me. You welcomed me as a long-awaited friend, and treated me as the only man worthy of your attention. It mattered not at all that that wasn't the case.

You led me into a changing room and lovingly undressed me. You took me into a shower and washed six months of dirt and sand off my body. The feel of your hands, and of warm water, after such a long time was a pleasure that seemed brand new each time, and that never grew old. You dried me, wrapped me in silk robes, and took me to my bed-chamber. I was asleep as soon as my body hit the soft cushions, and the last thing I remembered was your smile and your kiss to my forehead.

(Continued here)

TMI Tuesday, 4/5/11

A number of these questions are aimed at the ladies, but I'll either answer them as-is or turn them around as best I can.

1. Do you like to be called a slut? (yes, this can pertain to men as well)
Heh. I've never been called it, and I think I would laugh out loud if I was.

2. What is your definition of a real man or woman?
Self-confident without being arrogant, warm, honest, independent.

3. What quality do you value most in a woman, eg: Loyalty, humour, etc?
See #2.

4. What physical quality of a woman are you most attracted to?
There's no one physical quality that attracts me. And no, not even the stereotypical guy answer, "big tits." Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course. There just has to be something feminine about the whole package. I love the classic curves.

5. Would you rather be the boss in charge or the boss's right hand man/woman?
Honestly, I function more effectively as the right hand man.

6. What sexual act could you not live without?
Kissing. I *adore* kissing. Some of my very favorite memories are of make-out sessions that never went any further than that. It's sensual, connected, intimate, delicious.

7. What sexual act would you never do again?
I've never done anything that I wouldn't do again. Maybe that means I haven't done enough....

8. Have you ever masturbated while driving, if so what did you use to stimulate yourself?
I've never done it. However, I have brought the Sensual Goddess off with my fingers while I was driving. That's probably worthy of a blog post one day.

9. Have you ever wondered how fucking feels to the opposite sex?
All the time. The sensation of penetrating is so damn toe-curlingly good, I can't help be curious about what it feels like to receive that.

10. Do you remember the first time you heard the term clit, what was your impression?
It sounded like a strange word. This was probably in the middle school days of looking up "sex" in the library's encyclopedia when the librarian wasn't looking. Yes, that's what we had to do before the Internet. And you kids get off my lawn!

11. What is the first thing you ever masturbated to or with?
A fistful of shampoo (as I described here.)
(Edit: Re-reading, I think this question is asking what I was thinking about. In that case, I'm not sure about the answer. Possibly my 8th grade English teacher - a short busty brunette. Or in those days it could have been a bra ad in the Sears catalog, or any of a zillion other arousing things.)

12. For the girls, does Male on Male sex turn you on? Not as in two guys fucking each other but say seeing your husband or boyfriend touch, stroke, suck another man in your presence?
Since there's no "for the guys" part of this question, I'll answer it two ways. Guy/guy sex doesn't do anything for me. Those who like it are welcome to it, it just doesn't arouse me personally. That said, it doesn't repulse me, and I can't say that I wouldn't be open to something with the right people in the right situation. But it's not a desire of mine. Turning this around, yes, girl/girl touching, stroking, kissing, etc., is one of the biggest turn-ons there is. I've written about this before. The Sensual Goddess has been teasing me for years with the thought of having me watch her and another woman.


Go see Hedone at The Pleasure Principle to see who else is playing.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Blogoversary

One year ago today, I started this blog and posted my Greetings to blogland. I started out full of enthusiasm, pretty sure that I had stories that would be fun to tell, and hopeful that they would be of some interest.

Now a year has passed, and I also note that this is post #150, which is a nice round number. I can say that the experience has exceeded my wildest hopes. I've loved sharing some of my real-life experiences, and the fruits of my ever-active imagination. That well is still full to overflowing. I receive continued assurances (accusations?) here at home that I'm as bad as ever, and possibly even badder. Which of course makes me happy.

The feedback I've gotten has been extremely gratifying. I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read this, and my loving gratitude to those who comment on my posts. If asked why I blog, I would probably say I do it for myself - because I enjoy the writing. And that's true - but it's also true that if no one read and no one commented, I would probably lose interest. I hate to admit it even to myself, but the truth is that I *love* getting page hits and followers and comments. I lap it up like a kitten at a bowl of cream. I wish it mattered less to me, but there you are.

I also can't say enough about the blogger community. The most pleasant surprise has been getting to know, in some very small way, some really delightful people. People who, in my opinion, are true to themselves and bravely choosing their own path through life. I admire and salute that. I'm well aware that we only know each other from what we choose to share on our blog posts and our comments - but I still feel that I know some of you well enough to have real affection for.

Starting a new blog year, I'm looking forward to continuing in the same vein. I'm learning and growing and moving forward on my own path, and I'm sure the blog will reflect that. I feel more like *me* than I ever have before (if that makes any sense.) I don't think I'm anywhere near out of stories to tell. And with luck, there will be entirely new adventures to recount.

Raise a glass, the drinks are on me.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

"Feeling Groovy"

I love France's idea of a Saturday "dash of happy." It can be so easy to focus on the negative - what's bothering you, what you don't have, what's not going the way you want. Most of us have plenty to be thankful for, and happy about. Please go there and let her know what made you happy this week.

I'll try to add to the general happiness level by posting what I consider the happiest song I know, Simon and Garfunkel's "59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)."
Slow down, you move too fast.
You got to make the morning last.
Just kicking down the cobblestones.
Looking for fun and feelin' groovy.

Hello lamppost,
What'cha knowing?
I've come to watch your flowers growing.
Ain't 'cha got no rhymes for me?
Doot-in' doo-doo,
Feelin' groovy.

Got no deeds to do,
No promises to keep.
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep.
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me.
Life, I love you,
All is groovy.

Friday, April 1, 2011

FFF: April Fool's


We sat in the smoky haze of the bar, waiting for our table. With an evil grin, she leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"I hate to spoil the surprise, but I want you thinking about this all during dinner. When we get back to the hotel later, I have a birthday gift set up for you. You'll find a big-breasted brunette lounging on a bearskin rug, waiting for you. Waiting for you to take her in any nasty way you want. I'll watch or join in as you wish."

I pondered this. An unfortunate side effect of having a birthday today is the playing of April Fool's birthday pranks.

It was my turn for an evil grin, and I raised an eyebrow as I whispered back into her ear.

"I'm not sure how I'll be able to make it through dinner with that vision in my head. But if we get back there and things aren't *exactly* as you say, I'll blister your ass."

She just smiled her Chesire Cat smile. Either way, it would be an evening to remember.



Commentary: I know that restaurant bars are non-smoking now (at least everywhere I've been,) but it's the best I could do with the required phrase. Also, it's not actually my birthday today. :-)



The challenge this week was: 100-200 words.
The phrase "...smoky haze..." must be used.
Go see Panser's Lair to see who else is participating!