Anniversary.

One year, a little more than a month ago.

I booked a room in the Motel 6 a block away from the apartment I shared with three others; the thrill of the bill in my e-mail made me almost as wet as the kiss he gave me when we stumbled across the threshold, awkwardly playing at being "real" adults, adopting the roles of horny strangers.

A sudden shyness overwhelmed the tiny room as we stripped the bed of its cover and flicked on the television. I pulled a bottle of sparkling white wine from my overstuffed suitcase, but no corkscrew--we giggled as he tried to pry the cork out with his car key. The endeavor failed miserably.

The two of us rolled onto the bed, fully clothed, gently re-exploring each other's bodies after three months of sexless separation. I slipped my hands under his shirt, liberating the broad chest and muscled shoulders I had missed; I ran my fingernails down his stomach, cupped his round ass and squeezed. He lay down on his stomach and I rubbed him down with one of those all natural massage bars. Ours was shaped like a heart, smelled like chocolate and cloves (but tasted like soap), and left a warm, slippery residue and gritty bits on his skin. After fifteen minutes, he returned the favor.

"Close your eyes." He did, and I made an ungainly scramble for the itty bitty bathroom. I toweled what was left of the fragrant stuff off of my skin, and squeezed into the black silk Jacquard corset with red lace accents (and matching thong) that I had bought expressly for his anniversary gift.

I sauntered slowly out (well, sauntered may not be quite the word..my stomach was full to the brim with some form of butterfly, and I was teetering about in red patent pumps), and stood before him, weight shifted to one hip, trying to look confident and ending up betraying my nerves completely, more self-conscious than I had been the first time he saw me naked.

He smiled up at me, gently pulling me closer with his hands on my hips, nuzzling the tiny V of silk that barely covered my snatch, his warm breath making me moan with pleasure and surprise.

In a moment I was on the bed, heels shed, scrap of underwear flung across the room (corset still intact). His face was buried between my thighs; I gasped and tightened them as he lapped at the lips of my pussy, dipping his tongue into me, rolling up and around my clit hungrily. My fingers tightened in his hair as I came for the first time that night, calling out (hoping the walls were thick), back arching.

Mon Homme grinned, licking his lips, and slowly moved forward for a kiss. I pulled him down on top of me, responding fiercely, my cunt throbbing. As we broke our kiss, the desire in his eyes paralleled his pulsing erection, and he bent to suck on my exposed nipples.

"I want you inside me," I whispered, and he groaned, finally thrusting into my pussy. Months of waiting escaped in a satisfied sigh, as the familiar feeling of his thick cock filled me in the most amazing way.

Then a look of panic appeared appeared on his face.

"Oh shit..I'm already close." His eyes squeezed tight shut, and he adopted an expression of deep concentration.

"Think of something else," I suggested, and he nodded quickly. "I've really missed this..Your cock feels so good inside me..I love it when you fuck me."

"Hey now," he said, "you're not helping. Let's talk about string theory." He launched into a brief lecture on quantum physics, eyes locked with mine, and slowly resumed his gentle thrusting.

The odd combination of G-spot massage and special relativity, plus my pleasure at being with him again, excited me more than ever. To my surprise, I felt the heat rise in my stomach, my muscles tightening sweetly, the beginning of an orgasm curling up. I wrapped my legs more tightly around his waist, rolled my hips upward, and came hard. He stopped moving, staring down at me in surprise.

"Did you really..?"

"Yesss," I replied breathlessly. A few more strokes and he was done. I stripped completely and we twined together, falling asleep in complete satisfaction.

In the morning, having completely abandoned my unease, I changed into my "Catholic school girl" outfit--white Oxford, very short plaited red plaid skirt, white knee high socks, and black Mary Janes--and he fucked me from behind.

Afterward, we thought about trying something new which we'd discussed for a while: anal sex. He pulled me into his lap, lubricated a gloved finger, and gently probed my asshole. It was an interesting experience for him and for me, since while I had had a finger up my ass before, it had never been done so sweetly.

Eventually we chose to postpone the actual thing..but it's only a matter of time.

This is also important.

I've been thinking about this topic a lot lately.

"I wanted to respond to An Unmarried Woman. As a result of her "nice, funny" husband-material boyfriend's "boring" sexual style, AUW has begun to cheat on him with her ex-boyfriend.

I married my version of her boyfriend. So did many of my friends. Years later, all of us have:

1. Left our nice husbands because the sex was so unexciting,

2. Had affairs, or

3. Complained endlessly about how we feel trapped and frustrated in our sexually unfulfilling marriages.

AUW needs to walk away and she needs to do it now—before she feels crummy about cheating, before she "settles" for bad sex as a trade-off for "settling down," and before she has any kids whose lives will be affected by her future unhappiness and whatever steps she takes to deal with it.

Part of the problem here is that your standard advice to DTMFA doesn't always apply, Dan. AUW's boyfriend is not a motherfucker; he's a good, decent, caring, funny, responsible man, a potential life partner. Women are strongly socialized to downplay their own sexual needs in relation to their desire for security and stability. We're taught that this is the mature decision, and that what's important is that we choose the "good" guy. Only trailer-park sluts—ignorant and sex-driven—would value good sex above all that more "important" stuff.

But as you well know, Dan, good sex is damn important, and our desire for it doesn't necessarily fade over time. AUW should think about this: Even when there's a strong sexual connection, over time the novelty wears off, people have to "work" at keeping the sex hot, and children and bills and the daily grind take their toll. Where does she think she and Mr. Nice Guy will wind up sexually in 10 years if they have an uninspired sex life now?

AUW should wait for someone who "worships [her] pussy" and who is in other ways appropriate for the long haul. You can get a lot of your needs met outside of marriage, AUW, without being unfaithful. You can laugh, talk, go to movies, knit, etc., with friends, and it's okay. But once you go outside the marriage to fuck, you have crossed a heavy line. Marry someone who can meet your sexual needs."

There's a reason for this post.

As you might suppose.

"Dear Science,

I think my girlfriend is faking her orgasms. Is there any way, scientifically, to figure out if an orgasm is real or not?

Empirically Aroused

Sweaty feet are a good place to start. Having an orgasm, at least to your autonomic nervous system, is akin to being chased by a lion or getting into a drunken bar fight. For men and women, the medical school mnemonic (you'd be horrified to find out how most medical students pass their tests) for sex is "point and shoot," because it's the parasympathetic nervous system—the feed-and-breed regulator—that handles arousal, getting all hot and bothered, erect and wet. Only at the moment of orgasm does the sympathetic nervous system—the fight-or-flight, adrenaline-rush regulator—take over and end the show. If you want an objective measure of an orgasm that doesn't require specialized equipment, graduate students to operate it, and a multiple-Tesla magnet, Science suggests you look for sympathetic nervous system signs: a jump in heart rate, a sudden dilation of the pupils, or sweaty palms and feet.

You aren't the only one wondering. Drug designers, fresh from the victorious conquest of flaccid erections in men, are ready for new territory. Upon discovering women 30 or so years ago—hello, ladies—scientists have been busily testing orgasm-detecting machines in inherently, awkwardly hilarious experiments. Let's consider the latest idea: clitoral MRI. (A Seattle invention! Go UW!) First the volunteers were placed in an environment that really set the mood—a superchilled tube that made regular clanking noises. Next, the stimulation (take it away, journal article) "consisted of a 15-minute segment of neutral documentary video, followed by a 15-minute segment of sexually explicit stimulus material (AVSS), which was then followed by a second 15-minute segment of neutral video." In essence: Nova, porn, Nova—a typical Friday evening for most scientists. The MRI looked for the female erection. You know, swelling of the clitoral tissue around the vagina. But most of the objective scientific tests are about as accurate as sweaty feet.

Have you thought about asking? Your partner might otherwise wonder why you keep reaching for her feet or shining lights in her eyes at her moment of (provisional) ecstasy. Questionnaires are the most frequently used scientific test used to determine if women are coming to orgasm, still the gold standard for sexuality research. But filling out bubble sheets might prove awkward in the bedroom. Just hold your girlfriend's palms, look deeply in her eyes, and you'll have all the data you need.

Rousingly Yours,

Science"

In other news, I received a Fleshlight and a floppy, luminescent 8.5" cock in the mail today.

Trick or treat!

I did absolutely nothing today.

Well, I did dress up like a slutty Catholic schoolgirl, but that's hardly news.

I have not been the naughty little ghoul I wanted to be tonight. I didn't even watch any porn. Ah well. There's always tomorrow!

Today's word is the Galician "carallo," which means "penis"! It is normally used as an interjection: "carallo!"

To say "suck my dick," say "chupa meo carallo."

And I'll say, "With pleasure."

Weekend...

He opened his eyes and smiled sleepily, taking my hand and guiding it to rest on top of the bulge in his pajama bottoms.

"I'm ready, if you are," he said, sighing as I stroked the outline of his dick.

Persuasion.

"Mmmm, what time is it?" I purred, trying to focus on the clock next to me as his lips tightened around my left nipple, tongue flicking deliciously; his hands, meanwhile, massaged my thighs as they were spread to accommodate his hips.

9:07 p.m.

"Oh shit!" I shouted, trying to wriggle out from underneath Mon Homme. "We've got to go.."

"Can I have a little something before we leave?" he murmured in my ear, his fingers exploring the territory between my legs, slick and hotly aching.

"Nooooo," I moaned, "I want to, really, but I'm going to be late and I still have to change.." He wiggled his index and middle fingers "come hither" inside of me; I melted into a puddle of inertia.

Five minutes later, I remembered my goal, and leapt up from the bed.

"Incubus!" I slithered into my pants, pulling them up to my hips as he stood before me, grinning, the zipper of his jeans clearly undone. I eyed him suspiciously.

"Don't," I protested, "because if you do I won't be able to resist.." His smile grew wider as he pulled his dick out of his briefs. Unable to help myself, I reached forward and gripped the shaft, falling to my knees and sucking his hard cock into my mouth, rolling my tongue around the head, one hand pumping rhythmically up and down as as the other fondled his silky balls.

With a groan he exploded into my mouth; I eagerly swallowed the first cum I'd had in three weeks, then jumped up.

"You're so bad," I scolded, hurrying out the door. "And you so owe me."

The Magnificent Train Story!

For Mon Homme. Part of our "story telling." One of my fantasies:

So we are leaving glorious, beautiful Italy (heaven knows why) to go to Paris (i suppose that's a good reason). We board the train and, since it's a fairly long trip, decide to look for a sleeper car (this is an older train, so the sleeper cars are legit).

The train is packed but we finally find an empty one; we stow our baggage under the seats (which are next to the bunks) and slide the door closed.

The train begins to move, jerkily, and I lose my footing and fall against you; you catch me and take the opportunity to kiss me deeply as the train picks up speed out of the station.

We move to the seats; I sit on your lap facing you; we're into a pretty intense makeout session when the door slides partially open.

We both look up to see another woman, about our age; she's carrying a heavy suitcase and her face is red--"je m'excuse, je suis tres desolee, je vais aller---"

"Attendez," I say, "vous avez l'air tres fatiguee; venez ici, assiez-vous."

I get up and help her put her bags away; she keeps sneaking glances at you--you are trying to look casual with one leg conspicuously crossed over the other.

She is still blushing, which I think is really cute, and as we introduce ourselves with the typical kiss-kiss on either cheek, her lips sort of linger on my cheek--surprised, I turn my head and accidentally kiss her on the lips.

You're definitely paying attention now, as she surprises me further by kissing back, her tongue tentatively slipping between my lips. You rise to your feet, as I moan and close my eyes; you place one hand on the small of my back and the other on hers.

Everything speeds up a bit as she reaches for you, undoing your belt and zipper, pulling your hard cock out and stroking it as I undo the buttons of her sweater, biting her neck and collarbone as they become exposed, kissing her breasts as she fondles you, sucking on her nipples while you massage my ass and reach up underneath my skirt.

I lift my head to grin at her; she smiles back; we both look at you and suddenly you are pushed down onto the bench; she rips your shirt off and we kiss our way down both sides of your body to your cock; we run our tongues up and down and over it, sometimes taking turns to take you all the way, sometimes trading off so one of us is sucking on your cock while the other uses her hands.

All three of us are topless, and she and I are soon completely naked, and as we take care of you our free hands stroke each other; I reach between her legs while she squeezes my breasts.

Soon I can't take it anymore, and I divest you of the rest of your clothing, pulling you up behind me as she takes your place on the bench, lying on her back with her legs spread.

I bend over to run my tongue over and into her pussy; you grab my hips and thrust into me; it feels so fucking good and I groan against her, sucking on her clit; her eyes are tightly closed and she's shaking already---meanwhile you reach around to rub my clit and that, combined with you moving inside me, with the vibration of the train, cause me to come so hard I almost can't see--

Although that could be because she is coming too and wrapping her legs around my neck--the combination of her sounds and mine, and me squeezing your cock as I come, cause you to explode inside of me.

Exhausted, we climb into the bunks and curl around each other and sleep for hours.

Please pardon the lack of proper punctuation (i.e. accent marks); this was an IM session.

[Insert horny Frenchman laugh.]

A bit of French, la langue d'amour, and apparently of sex and other naughty things as well.

• bander: to have a hard-on. Bander is commonly used for a bow drawn taut to let the arrow fly. Bander is not used with a direct object, but it can certainly be followed by a number of metaphors: bander comme un cerf (hard as a deer) or comme un tigre (like a tiger). It can also be used thus: “je bande pour toi" (I have a boner for you). However, the reverse would be quite possible: “débander,” i.e., literally to become limp again, is also used metaphorically for “to chicken out.” "Alors, tu débandes?" would mean, "Are you chicken?”
• bitte: cock, prick.
• branlage: wanking, masturbation. “Branlette” is a wank or an act of masturbation. “Se branler” is “to wank, to masturbate”—literally "to wobble oneself."
• brouter le cresson: to perform cunnilingus. Literal translation: "to graze the watercress."
• chatte: pussy (female genitalia).
• chinois: the Chinaman, i.e., a penis. "Se polir le Chinois" is “to polish the Chinaman,” or the very sweet act of giving yourself pleasure.
• cigare (masculine noun): dick. Commonly used in phrases like "couper le cigare" (to circumcize), or "fumer le cigare" (to give a blowjob)—which leads to "avaler la fumée" (“swallow the smoke” or semen).
• couilles: balls, bollocks.
• cramouille: wet slit. Commonly used when for some reason a male wants to use a slightly unpleasant noun for the genitals of a female. “Elle mouille” means “she's getting wet.”
• doudounes: tits. Other euphemisms for breasts include: "les roberts," "les nénés," "les nichons."
• jouir: to come. Used in the sexual sense.
• noune: vagina. Used to replace “vulva” in a normal non-formal conversation.
• ramoner: to sweep the chimney, i.e., to screw.
• se palucher: to give yourself a hand job.
• avoir la tringle: to have a hard-on, erection.
• tringler: to fuck. "Se faire tringler" is “to be fucked.”
• trique: a boner. "Avoir la trique" is to be horny as hell.

Back door delight?

Last night, I had another of my infamous sex dreams.

I was in a hotel room with one of my girl friends. We heard a knock at the door and when we opened it, three guys and a couple of girls walked in. For some reason, we welcomed their company and soon things got very...naked.

In a minute I was on the bed with one of the guys, completely turned on and waiting for him. I was surprised when a moment later, instead of having my wet pussy filled with dick, I felt his hard cock hovering a few inches lower, pressing insistently against my asshole.

I realized that this was exactly what I wanted, and I begged him to fuck me. He pushed into me and I moaned in ecstasy--it was the most amazing sensation, effortlessly orgasmic. When he came, it was too soon, and I pulled another guy over and into me, while at the same time recommending the experience to my friend, who said that she was already well aware.

It's not too difficult to figure out where this is coming from.

I used to think I wasn't into anal sex at all, but a few months ago I began to have a change of heart. Mon Homme and I have been tossing this idea back and forth for a while now, and a few weeks ago we started the preliminaries..

He took me into his lap and slipped his hand beneath my skirt, massaging my ass cheeks firmly before slipping one black-gloved finger gently into my ass. We adjourned at that level, but he's coming to visit again this weekend and I've been fantasizing about completing my anal deflowering all week.

Last night..

Last night, I was bored as hell and so I did something I haven't in YEARS:

I went to a cyber sex chat room.

Nothing really happened. A fourteen-year-old hit on me and I kept well away from that; two guys picked up on the whole attempted sex chat thing but had to go before anything interesting happened; I met a guy from Athens who wanted me to visit him in Greece within two minutes of talking (cute).

Boooooring. I did orgasm twice, though, but not due to any real arousal.

The funny thing about it is that when I did things like this before, I was always a lot more forward AND I always lied about my age and my looks (my favorite was that I was a 5'8" strawberry blonde model). I got a lot more "action" that way, but this way was more entertaining.

Today's lesson comes from the Finnish (mmm):

• Runkkari: wanker (which is Brit slang for someone who jacks it quite often, or a jerk in general).
• Suoro: a horse's or bull's penis. Note: Used humorously to refer to a larger than average human penis.
• Vittujen kevät ja kyrpien takatalvi: Oh fucking fuck! Note: Most naturally used after the sentence initial 'Voi..," literally 'Oh spring of cunts and cold spell of pricks,' an expression of extreme disgust.
• Voi helvetti: bloody hell.
• Voi vittu: fuck this.

The Finnish are so charming..

Ch-ch-ch-changes.

I actually have something to write about now.

(By the way, I broke up with "The Boyfriend." The long distance thing was not working out at all. Suffice to say he's now a dick and I am dating the delectable "Mon Homme.")

I might play catch-up for a while with my posts, but there will eventually be current events to blog about.

In the meantime, I give you more tutoring in foreign indelicacies, from the languages English and Esperanto:

English

• Quim: a vulgar, but not harsh, term for female genitalia. Origin: Scotland.
• Snatch: vagina. Less offensive than "cunt."

Esperanto

• Amori: to make love/have sex.
• Fingrumi: to masturbate. From "fingro" (finger).
• Kojonoj: testicles.
• Onani: to jerk off (yourself).
• Onanigi: to jerk off (someone else).
• Seksumi: to fuck/copulate.