From the minute I showed up, I was so ready for him and his fingers.
But we had places to go, Rocky Horror to see (with friends), so I waited semi-patiently.
Until we got to the theater, where the darkness (and the assemblage of semi-dressed fans of the cult classic) lowered my inhibitions and I took most of my clothes off, stripping down to my black silk slip and camisole, and the very necessary fishnet stockings.
We got into the movie quite a bit before we actually did anything. Then, beneath a coat, his dextrous hands slipped between my thighs and gently massaged what couldn't QUITE be reached (sigh). Still, it excited me immensely. I remember goosebumps, and rising anticipation, and the manufacturing of copious quantities of lubrication, and me reaching between his legs to rest on what I reallllly wanted.
After we left and got back to our friend's house (where we were spending the night), I wanted him right away. I wanted to take off whatever I could. I wanted his hands on my breasts, and his kisses to move from my mouth, to my throat, to my collarbone, and finally lavish my aroused nipples, to suck on them and bite. I wanted him to hold my wrists above my head with one hand, and finger fuck me hard with the other until I'd have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. It was absolute torture having to wait.
Finally we got the chance (i.e., it was like three in the morning and everyone had fallen asleep), and eagerly I stripped off my stockings, keeping skirt and thong on (it excites me to have them pushed aside, as an element of the "can't wait" scenario). We kissed furiously as he caressed every inch of my body, doing exactly what I wanted, when I wanted, moving his hands under my skirt and working them into me, starting slow and gradually increasing the speed until it became an effort to keep the sound down as he thrust his fingers with more and more force, slamming into me the way I like. Meanwhile I could feel how hard he was against my thigh, and at some point he moved up to continue kissing me, his erection pressing against my cunt as his hips undulated. My eyes closed, I moaned, wanting so much for him to slide in and fill me up, the presence of a bunch of other people asleep in the room exciting me (not that I wanted to get caught, of course).
After hours of this, we fell asleep, nestled in each other's arms. I dreamed of him until I was pleasantly awoken by the sensation of his fingers moving in and out of me.
(Interjection of a Note from The Boyfriend: After we fall asleep, I'm not sure what always wakes me up awhile afterwards, but I love it.
That particular time, you were kinda turned away from me, with your skirt still up around your hips, breathing deeply in your sleep. You were kind of half-way into the ball that one sleeps in while on their side with your right leg up a bit, leaning to the left slightly. I saw you lying there and wondered to myself how it would feel to wake up with me down there and then couldn't possibly resist the temptation to find out.
I slowly inched down there, paying attention to your every slightest movement to make sure that I didn't wake you up prematurely. When I got down there, I lightly pushed your thong to one side and started massaging the lips. To my surprise the fluids quickly came out, making it much easier to move around. Your breathing got heavier and heavier, more pronounced until you opened up your mouth and it turned into more panting. At that point your right leg, which had at first been bent, kicked bluntly down to more or less straight and I took that as a cue to go inside more. After a few moments of this you woke up and gave this surprised little gasp and THAT'S when the liquids just came gushing. Your breathing got quieter (wisely) but you turned toward me and wrapped your arms around me and we pretty much rocked the rest of the morning out.)
It turns me on to read that, every time.
And apparently it got him pretty hot writing it: "You can see my heartbeat in my pants. Great."
Friday, July 28, 2006
Making up for my laziness:
With a few tasty linguistic tidbits.
Belarusian!
- граць на дудцы-валасянцы (hrać na dudcy-valasiancy): to give a blowjob, to play a hairy trumpet (e.g. Mary hraje na dudcy-valasiancy sztodzionna: Mary gives a blowjob daily). Note: often used as a joke.
- нестаяк (niestajak): soft cock, that doesn't get hard, "noodle" (e.g. Mary, jabacca choczasz? -- Nie, nie chaczu, u tabie z*a niestajak: Mary, want to go for a fuck? -- No, I don't want to, your cock is a "noodle").
- стаяк (stajak): hard cock (e.g. Mary! Pajszli jabacca, u mianie zaraz taki stajak!: Mary! Let's go fuck, my prick is so hard now). Note: Literally means "stand".
- цыцка (cycka, fem. noun, pl. cycki): breast(s) (e.g. Mary, u tabie cycka baczna!: Mary, your boob is open to the public!).
Don't you all feel so enlightened now?
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Rolling and riding and slipping and sliding, it's magic.
(Title = lyrics to an E.L.O. song. Yum.)
Yesterday I finally received my Hitachi Magic Wand in the mail.
I had ordered this "Cadillac of Vibrators" because the Mini Heartbreaker I got was defective, and Babeland was having a 20% off sale (score!).
I quickly ripped open the packaging, plugged it in, and set to work.
Now, the settings are Low and High, but in reality, it's more like "High" and "OHMYGOD." I swear, I had the hardest orgasm ever. It almost hurt, and after two more I was walkin' funny, I was so numb. Not to say it wasn't good. I certainly enjoyed it--as was evidenced by the amount of noise I was making. Usually I am almost silent; I add noise because it makes it more fun. But I couldn't stay quiet with this thing. I was gasping and shaking and moaning and my hips were jerking all over the place.
Now, I'm hardly sensitive at all down there. It takes a vibe with a strength of 3 or more to get me off with any regularity. But this was almost too strong. I thought I would be blissed out within fifteen seconds, but because I was so overwhelmed, it took me just as long with the Hitachi as it does with the Fukuoku (40 seconds plus, usually a few minutes). And on the OHMYGOD setting, I had to diffuse the vibration by placing my fingers over my clitoris and vibrating them (although that was pretty enjoyable, I recommend it).
Maybe I'll ease into it. I do like it, a lot. And it definitely gets the job done. Unfortunately, it's also huge, loud, indiscreet, gets hot if you use it for too long, and has a cord. So I can't take it to college with me.
Snap.
Yesterday I finally received my Hitachi Magic Wand in the mail.
I had ordered this "Cadillac of Vibrators" because the Mini Heartbreaker I got was defective, and Babeland was having a 20% off sale (score!).
I quickly ripped open the packaging, plugged it in, and set to work.
Now, the settings are Low and High, but in reality, it's more like "High" and "OHMYGOD." I swear, I had the hardest orgasm ever. It almost hurt, and after two more I was walkin' funny, I was so numb. Not to say it wasn't good. I certainly enjoyed it--as was evidenced by the amount of noise I was making. Usually I am almost silent; I add noise because it makes it more fun. But I couldn't stay quiet with this thing. I was gasping and shaking and moaning and my hips were jerking all over the place.
Now, I'm hardly sensitive at all down there. It takes a vibe with a strength of 3 or more to get me off with any regularity. But this was almost too strong. I thought I would be blissed out within fifteen seconds, but because I was so overwhelmed, it took me just as long with the Hitachi as it does with the Fukuoku (40 seconds plus, usually a few minutes). And on the OHMYGOD setting, I had to diffuse the vibration by placing my fingers over my clitoris and vibrating them (although that was pretty enjoyable, I recommend it).
Maybe I'll ease into it. I do like it, a lot. And it definitely gets the job done. Unfortunately, it's also huge, loud, indiscreet, gets hot if you use it for too long, and has a cord. So I can't take it to college with me.
Snap.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Space: The Final Frontier.
Being slightly, endearingly nerdy, The Boyfriend has this fantasy about sex in space. I am, of course, happy to oblige, although I imagine there will be certain complications.
And apparently I'm right.
While sex in space is now a front and center topic of talk in public space travel circles, it may be far more complex and foreboding than once thought...
“Sex in micro-g might be a little underwhelming. That is, the fantasy might be vastly superior to the reality. It’s a pretty messy environment…for every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction,” [James] Logan told an attentive audience over the weekend at the NewSpace 2006 meeting in Las Vegas, Nevada, sponsored by the Space Frontier Foundation.
Sex in zero-g is going to have to be more or less choreographed, “otherwise it’s just going to be a wild fling,” Logan advised.
Still might be worth a shot.
And apparently I'm right.
While sex in space is now a front and center topic of talk in public space travel circles, it may be far more complex and foreboding than once thought...
“Sex in micro-g might be a little underwhelming. That is, the fantasy might be vastly superior to the reality. It’s a pretty messy environment…for every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction,” [James] Logan told an attentive audience over the weekend at the NewSpace 2006 meeting in Las Vegas, Nevada, sponsored by the Space Frontier Foundation.
Sex in zero-g is going to have to be more or less choreographed, “otherwise it’s just going to be a wild fling,” Logan advised.
Still might be worth a shot.
Them balls sure are smart.
Actually, I haven't noticed anything remarkable regarding their intelligence (I'm not sure they're sentient; I sort of hope not).
On the other hand, it gave me a feeling of immense satisfaction to finally get 'em in (for a minute there, it was a tight squeeze), and made me giggle like an idiot for the first ten minutes due to the extremely interesting sensations they caused.
I like them quite a bit. And I noticed, after only an hour or two, that already my PC muscles did seem stronger.
For those of you who don't know:
[Smart Balls are] the stylish way to strengthen your pubococcygeal (PC) muscles or enjoy a feeling of fullness during solo and partner sex. Toning the PC muscles is both practical and pleasurable — it helps women regain control and continence after childbirth, and many women enjoy more intense orgasms when their vaginal muscles are stronger. To help tone your PC muscles, simply insert one ball at a time into the vagina, then squeeze (as if stopping the flow during urination) to feel resistance. Pull gently on the string to build up your vaginal workout. Do not boil. Not recommended for anal play.
I love Kegels.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
L'éponge.
Back! Back, you sons of bitches!So, in my ponderings about which sort of birth control I should use in lieu of condoms when I'm married (since I don't want to have children for a while, but condoms suck), I asked my mother, of all people. We talked about injections and the Pill and the surgery and the ring and the diaphragm (ugh) and the little implanted chip thing, and she nixed all of those.
No, she said, the thing you need is...
The Sponge.
The way she explained it sounded extremely appealing, so I checked out this site.
At first it freaked me out--
I'll do it wrong and the buggers'll get in! I thought. Or, I'll be the of the extremely fertile %15 for whom it just won't work!
But the more I think about it, the more I like it.
It still bugs the hell out of me that I have to do ANYTHING, though. I'm lazy and I want sex to be spontaneous.
But I suppose I'd probably forget to take the Pill at the same time every day.
The Sponge it is.
(Actually, I probably WOULD screw it up. The Patch looks nice enough..)
Booty booty booty booty, rockin' everywhere.
There appears to be a booty craze going on these days. The focus has shifted from cleavage to the derriere..
But obviously it's not exactly a new obsession.
I find myself posturing in front of the mirror rather more often than I'd like to admit, trying to decide whether what I've got is worthy of worship.
Sadly it's nothing like this fine specimen.
But obviously it's not exactly a new obsession.
I find myself posturing in front of the mirror rather more often than I'd like to admit, trying to decide whether what I've got is worthy of worship.
Sadly it's nothing like this fine specimen.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Righto! (And now for something completely different.)
(A bedroom of a middle-aged, middle-class wealthy couple. It's dark. They are both lying fast asleep on their backs. Maurice Zatapathique climbs in through the window and pads across to the wife.)
Maurice: Vera... Vera... darling! Wake up, my little lemon. Come to my arms.
Vera: Maurice! What are you doing here?
Maurice: I could not keep away from you. I must have you all the time.
Vera: Oh, this is most inconvenient.
Maurice: Don't talk to me about convenience, love consumes my naughty mind, I'm delirious with desire.
(He kisses her hand repeatedly. The husband wakes up with a start and sits bolt upright and looks straight ahead.)
Husband: What's that, Vera?
Vera: Oh nothing, dear. Just a trick of the light.
Husband: Righto! (goes to sleep again)
Vera: Phew! That was close.
Maurice: Now then my little banana, my little fruit salad, I can wait for you no longer. You must be mine utterly...
I love Eric Idle.
Maurice: Vera... Vera... darling! Wake up, my little lemon. Come to my arms.
Vera: Maurice! What are you doing here?
Maurice: I could not keep away from you. I must have you all the time.
Vera: Oh, this is most inconvenient.
Maurice: Don't talk to me about convenience, love consumes my naughty mind, I'm delirious with desire.
(He kisses her hand repeatedly. The husband wakes up with a start and sits bolt upright and looks straight ahead.)
Husband: What's that, Vera?
Vera: Oh nothing, dear. Just a trick of the light.
Husband: Righto! (goes to sleep again)
Vera: Phew! That was close.
Maurice: Now then my little banana, my little fruit salad, I can wait for you no longer. You must be mine utterly...
I love Eric Idle.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Breaking news in the world of wang.
"...scientists reported what could be the first noncosmetic benefit of circumcision. And what a benefit it is: Building on the findings of French researchers—who last year determined that circumcised men in South Africa were 65 percent less likely to become infected with HIV—today the World Health Organization confirmed that removing the foreskins of men across Africa over the next 10 years could prevent 2 million new HIV infections and 300,000 deaths from AIDS.
As Reuters reports, circumcision is believed to cut infection risk for two reasons:
1. The foreskin is covered in cells the virus seems able to easily infect.
2. The virus may survive better in a warm, wet environment like that found beneath a foreskin.
But will Africa's men sit still for the mandatory snip? God knows that circumcision is, for all but the exceedingly unlucky, the worst thing that will ever happen to one's genitals. However, losing your immune system is worse, and here's hoping Africa follows through with its 10-year Harvest of Foreskins."
by David Schmader
The Stranger
How interesting.
I'm all for it. Not because I hate men--I love them and I'm sorry for the pain that circumcision may bring--but because unwashed foreskin is truly the gnarliest thing ever.
I like 'em smooooth.
As Reuters reports, circumcision is believed to cut infection risk for two reasons:
1. The foreskin is covered in cells the virus seems able to easily infect.
2. The virus may survive better in a warm, wet environment like that found beneath a foreskin.
But will Africa's men sit still for the mandatory snip? God knows that circumcision is, for all but the exceedingly unlucky, the worst thing that will ever happen to one's genitals. However, losing your immune system is worse, and here's hoping Africa follows through with its 10-year Harvest of Foreskins."
by David Schmader
The Stranger
How interesting.
I'm all for it. Not because I hate men--I love them and I'm sorry for the pain that circumcision may bring--but because unwashed foreskin is truly the gnarliest thing ever.
I like 'em smooooth.
Even more "mmm."
One more reason to love Seattle:
The Erotic Bakery.
(2323 N. 45th St. Seattle, WA 98103)
"We're not sure how to say this, so we're just going to say it right out: The Erotic Bakery makes cookies, cakes and cupcakes shaped like — or topped with confectionary representations of — all the reproductive organs you've come to know and love over the years. If you can use it to procreate, these fine people have fashioned it from cheesecake, marionberry and marzipan. The selection of bawdy greeting cards and goofy sex novelties makes Erotic Bakery a one-stop shop for bachelor/bachelorette parties and, um, open-minded birthday parties. Mind where you stick those candles.
By Geoff Carter
NWsource staff"
The Erotic Bakery.
(2323 N. 45th St. Seattle, WA 98103)
"We're not sure how to say this, so we're just going to say it right out: The Erotic Bakery makes cookies, cakes and cupcakes shaped like — or topped with confectionary representations of — all the reproductive organs you've come to know and love over the years. If you can use it to procreate, these fine people have fashioned it from cheesecake, marionberry and marzipan. The selection of bawdy greeting cards and goofy sex novelties makes Erotic Bakery a one-stop shop for bachelor/bachelorette parties and, um, open-minded birthday parties. Mind where you stick those candles.
By Geoff Carter
NWsource staff"
I couldn't make this shit up.
i am a 22 yr old man that thought i would be happy with my wife for the wrest of my life, but after a year of cheeting on my wife with her own mom, i am in love with her mom. she is 44 but she has the experience and beauty. we go wild in bed makin love for hours and she swollows which turns me like crazely. i dont want to be with my wife no more. what should i do?
Marreed Man
"This helpful shit is harder than I thought. But here goes: A husband should be able to discuss anything with his wife, MM. You should be able to share your deepest secrets with her, your innermost thoughts, your fondest hopes for the future. When a man can't tell his wife that his hopes for the future include a lot more oral sex from her mom, then something is wrong. Your marriage could be in trouble. I urge you to seek counseling."
(c) The Stranger
Dear Lord. What kind of man..what kind of mother..ew.
Marreed Man
"This helpful shit is harder than I thought. But here goes: A husband should be able to discuss anything with his wife, MM. You should be able to share your deepest secrets with her, your innermost thoughts, your fondest hopes for the future. When a man can't tell his wife that his hopes for the future include a lot more oral sex from her mom, then something is wrong. Your marriage could be in trouble. I urge you to seek counseling."
(c) The Stranger
Dear Lord. What kind of man..what kind of mother..ew.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Sexy sofa.
You might not think sofas can be sexy. You might think a sofa isn't the proper place for such activities. You might think I have terrible taste in furniture.
Well, you're wrong! Wrong, I say!
This is also an incredibly attractive couch. Admit it. This is also one hot piece of sofa. And this is one that should belong to me.
Oh, and the (Swedish) phrase of the day is: Jag är snyggare naken.
It means "I'm better-looking when I'm naked," and is pronounced "yog air snigggareh nocken," according to those who know.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Monday, July 17, 2006
Tsunami.
It happened three years ago, when I was visiting my relatives in Kansas for Thanksgiving.
I found myself locked in a closet, masturbating furiously.
What brought this on? I can't really say.
Ever since fifth grade, I'd been tuned into sex and intensely curious about it. I'd seen and read things that made me tingle between my legs, but I'd never done anything about it. I'd never felt the need.
But on that fateful day in November, something inside my fifteen-year-old self snapped (too much turkey?), and I was suddenly filled with the urge to hide somewhere and thoroughly explore my body, to sink my fingers deep inside my pussy and start pumping away.
So I did. I lay down among the shoes and looked up at the sweaters, skirts, and carefully folded slacks, and ran my novice hands over myself, stroking and squeezing, pinching and prodding gently. I moved further down, skirting the clitoris completely and instead rubbing my outer lips, pushing them aside and working my way deeper. I moved my middle and index fingers rhythmically, harder and harder until I could feel my insides stretch out, becoming cave-like and spongy. I pressed against the roof, hearing the satisfying squish.
And then, I squirted.
Chagrined, and a little repulsed, I stopped. Had I just urinated all over the carpet? Upon further inspection, it seemed I had not. Apparently this was something new.
Fascinated, I went back to work, and was able to gush even more, absolutely soaking the floor beneath me. I didn't feel anything when this happened (no orgasmic bliss), except amazement and delight, even though I realize now that I'd activated the G-spot.
Several times during that Thanksgiving weekend, I returned to the closet...along with the bathroom, the bath tub, and the bed. Every time, my play resulted in waterworks.
When I went home, I continued my love affair with the G-spot, until one day...I couldn't do it anymore.
I'm sure I still have the ability, I just can't seem to unlock it. But I haven't given up.
I found myself locked in a closet, masturbating furiously.
What brought this on? I can't really say.
Ever since fifth grade, I'd been tuned into sex and intensely curious about it. I'd seen and read things that made me tingle between my legs, but I'd never done anything about it. I'd never felt the need.
But on that fateful day in November, something inside my fifteen-year-old self snapped (too much turkey?), and I was suddenly filled with the urge to hide somewhere and thoroughly explore my body, to sink my fingers deep inside my pussy and start pumping away.
So I did. I lay down among the shoes and looked up at the sweaters, skirts, and carefully folded slacks, and ran my novice hands over myself, stroking and squeezing, pinching and prodding gently. I moved further down, skirting the clitoris completely and instead rubbing my outer lips, pushing them aside and working my way deeper. I moved my middle and index fingers rhythmically, harder and harder until I could feel my insides stretch out, becoming cave-like and spongy. I pressed against the roof, hearing the satisfying squish.
And then, I squirted.
Chagrined, and a little repulsed, I stopped. Had I just urinated all over the carpet? Upon further inspection, it seemed I had not. Apparently this was something new.
Fascinated, I went back to work, and was able to gush even more, absolutely soaking the floor beneath me. I didn't feel anything when this happened (no orgasmic bliss), except amazement and delight, even though I realize now that I'd activated the G-spot.
Several times during that Thanksgiving weekend, I returned to the closet...along with the bathroom, the bath tub, and the bed. Every time, my play resulted in waterworks.
When I went home, I continued my love affair with the G-spot, until one day...I couldn't do it anymore.
I'm sure I still have the ability, I just can't seem to unlock it. But I haven't given up.
What's on your menu?
I am now in love with this article.
Not that I have any problem with the taste. Enthusiasm, I've found, adds flavour.
Although I also heartily encourage those of any persuasion to take up a passion for fruit, and abandon onions.
Not that I have any problem with the taste. Enthusiasm, I've found, adds flavour.
Although I also heartily encourage those of any persuasion to take up a passion for fruit, and abandon onions.
Underwear.
Or pants, if you're British. (If you're American, educate yourself--in England, what we know as pants are referred to as trousers. Forget this at your own risk. You will be laughed at.)
For men:
You must never, EVER wear y-fronts.
First of all, they are perilously unsexy. I find them to be an instant turn-off, myself. Many other women feel the same about those so-called "tighty whities." Secondly...if you have plans along the lines of fatherhood, they're not exactly advocates for your cause.
Briefs are slightly better, especially if they're black (although not everyone will agree with me).
Boxer briefs are pretty much the tastiest things you can wear, if you want to show off your package but still look 'manly.' (Grey or black is lovely.)
I prefer straight boxers myself (so comfortable, so airy, such easy access), but pretty much anything other than the y-fronts are fine.
Thongs are RIGHT OUT.
And this is an interesting dissection of society's view of underwear.
For men:
You must never, EVER wear y-fronts.
First of all, they are perilously unsexy. I find them to be an instant turn-off, myself. Many other women feel the same about those so-called "tighty whities." Secondly...if you have plans along the lines of fatherhood, they're not exactly advocates for your cause.
Briefs are slightly better, especially if they're black (although not everyone will agree with me).
Boxer briefs are pretty much the tastiest things you can wear, if you want to show off your package but still look 'manly.' (Grey or black is lovely.)
I prefer straight boxers myself (so comfortable, so airy, such easy access), but pretty much anything other than the y-fronts are fine.
Thongs are RIGHT OUT.
And this is an interesting dissection of society's view of underwear.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Rubber.
I haven't got a fetish or anything, but The Boyfriend DOES like tight, black clothing on me...and this definitely takes that to the extreme. Or maybe this is more my style. Or this?
I wonder if I'd look good in it.
I wonder how I'd get into it in the first place. Looks to be rather a tight squeeze.
Do you think it would melt in the summer?
I wonder if I'd look good in it.
I wonder how I'd get into it in the first place. Looks to be rather a tight squeeze.
Do you think it would melt in the summer?
Such flattering evidence..
Hard-ons, that is.
I'm imagining the outline of his erection through his jeans.
Especially when it's unexpected, like in the theater, when all I've done is kissed his jawline and whispered in his ear.
I like the way it strains against the fabric, as if it wants to escape.
And the fact that I can't have him at that moment is such a turn on.
It's especially fun to stroke, while wearing a mischievous grin. No WONDER men don't (usually) wear tight jeans (although a fitter cut is hella sexy). He barely fits as it is.
I love it when he whispers in my ear, "I'm so hard for you," or looks down, drawing my attention, and smiles; or presses himself against me so I can feel it; or takes my hand and applies it there (not only when he's clothed, I like it perfectly well when he's not).
Mmm. I am endlessly impressed and fascinated.
I'm imagining the outline of his erection through his jeans.
Especially when it's unexpected, like in the theater, when all I've done is kissed his jawline and whispered in his ear.
I like the way it strains against the fabric, as if it wants to escape.
And the fact that I can't have him at that moment is such a turn on.
It's especially fun to stroke, while wearing a mischievous grin. No WONDER men don't (usually) wear tight jeans (although a fitter cut is hella sexy). He barely fits as it is.
I love it when he whispers in my ear, "I'm so hard for you," or looks down, drawing my attention, and smiles; or presses himself against me so I can feel it; or takes my hand and applies it there (not only when he's clothed, I like it perfectly well when he's not).
Mmm. I am endlessly impressed and fascinated.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Mind over matter.
Do you think it odd that as soon as he begins to talk about something intellectual, or just something he finds fascinating, I get wildly turned on (unless it's math, unless he's being very, very good with it and he's got that tone in his voice..)?
He doesn't even have to touch me, or lightly graze the subject of sex...all he has to do is talk. God, he has a sexy mind. And I love how passionate he is about things, random things.
Some time, he should combine the two. Just start lecturing on quantum theory or neoclassicism, while his hands roam from my breasts to trace the curve of my body and slide over my stomach and down between my legs, gently moving his fingers over me until I writhe with desire, then sinking them deep inside me, his eyes still locked on mine, his voice still even and warm.
I guarantee you it would drive me wild, especially if he'd refuse to let me touch or kiss him until I'm begging, and then go on talking between kisses, even as I unbutton his shirt and help him remove the rest of his clothing, then put my legs around his waist and guide him inside me.
Ach, that's hot...and so am I, I think I'll be off for a bit..
He doesn't even have to touch me, or lightly graze the subject of sex...all he has to do is talk. God, he has a sexy mind. And I love how passionate he is about things, random things.
Some time, he should combine the two. Just start lecturing on quantum theory or neoclassicism, while his hands roam from my breasts to trace the curve of my body and slide over my stomach and down between my legs, gently moving his fingers over me until I writhe with desire, then sinking them deep inside me, his eyes still locked on mine, his voice still even and warm.
I guarantee you it would drive me wild, especially if he'd refuse to let me touch or kiss him until I'm begging, and then go on talking between kisses, even as I unbutton his shirt and help him remove the rest of his clothing, then put my legs around his waist and guide him inside me.
Ach, that's hot...and so am I, I think I'll be off for a bit..
Domestically challenged.
My room is a mess.
There are dirty dishes on the counter.
The fridge is thoroughly empty.
And the bookshelves are rather disarrayed.
All in all, it seems clear that I have housework to do.
But all I can think about is baking cookies.
Am I hungry? In a manner of speaking.
I just spent the past hour furiously lovin' my oven, until the batteries were wearing out and my clit was numb.
The Boyfriend called an hour ago. Definitely a connection somewhere..
There are dirty dishes on the counter.
The fridge is thoroughly empty.
And the bookshelves are rather disarrayed.
All in all, it seems clear that I have housework to do.
But all I can think about is baking cookies.
Am I hungry? In a manner of speaking.
I just spent the past hour furiously lovin' my oven, until the batteries were wearing out and my clit was numb.
The Boyfriend called an hour ago. Definitely a connection somewhere..
Today, Armenian.
"Ander" means "male genitals," with or without testicles.
Hopefully with, but you never know. Could have had a nasty accident.
I am rather a fan of male genitals, you know. Of course, I wasn't always.
I had a certain idea of them in my head before I'd ever seen a "real" one, up close. I was told that Ewan McGregor was pretty large as men go, so I rented The Pillow Book, in which he is seen completely nude from the front, and was massively disappointed. "THAT's large?" I thought. "That still looks pretty small to me."
Of course, his wasn't "on," so I'm sure he's still as amazing as people say (I just wouldn't know). But I was going around thinking, "Men are lame. They think about and brag about them SO much, but really, they're just pathetic and how could they ever afford me ANY pleasure?"
And then...October 29th, 2005. The Boyfriend and I were going to a Halloween party of a mutual friend, and we were a bit early. We pulled over and made out for a bit until we were told off by a couple with some dogs (apparently we were on private property). So we moved the car and went back to work.
He was poised above me in the back seat, encouraging my exploration of his person. I took my hand and ran it shyly down his chest and stomach, past the happy trail. He arched his back so I could get into his jeans more easily, and I slipped my hand in and under the waistband of his boxers, running my fingers through the hair and finally connecting with extremely stiff matter. I was amazed.
I hadn't even KNOWN he was turned on (chalk it up to a dark night, black jeans, and my relative inexperience). Furthermore, I was charmed and delighted. I wrapped my hand around his warm cock and was rewarded with a groan. I traveled up and down the length of his shaft, exploring the balls (gently), the corona, the head, loving the different textures and the way his breathing had changed. I still had no idea what it actually LOOKED like (that came later), but here was proof that men weren't bragging for nothing.
We were a bit late for the party, so we adjourned for the night. But later, The Boyfriend mentioned to me that it had been the first time he'd ever been satisfied to cut our time together short.
I was hooked.
Hopefully with, but you never know. Could have had a nasty accident.
I am rather a fan of male genitals, you know. Of course, I wasn't always.
I had a certain idea of them in my head before I'd ever seen a "real" one, up close. I was told that Ewan McGregor was pretty large as men go, so I rented The Pillow Book, in which he is seen completely nude from the front, and was massively disappointed. "THAT's large?" I thought. "That still looks pretty small to me."
Of course, his wasn't "on," so I'm sure he's still as amazing as people say (I just wouldn't know). But I was going around thinking, "Men are lame. They think about and brag about them SO much, but really, they're just pathetic and how could they ever afford me ANY pleasure?"
And then...October 29th, 2005. The Boyfriend and I were going to a Halloween party of a mutual friend, and we were a bit early. We pulled over and made out for a bit until we were told off by a couple with some dogs (apparently we were on private property). So we moved the car and went back to work.
He was poised above me in the back seat, encouraging my exploration of his person. I took my hand and ran it shyly down his chest and stomach, past the happy trail. He arched his back so I could get into his jeans more easily, and I slipped my hand in and under the waistband of his boxers, running my fingers through the hair and finally connecting with extremely stiff matter. I was amazed.
I hadn't even KNOWN he was turned on (chalk it up to a dark night, black jeans, and my relative inexperience). Furthermore, I was charmed and delighted. I wrapped my hand around his warm cock and was rewarded with a groan. I traveled up and down the length of his shaft, exploring the balls (gently), the corona, the head, loving the different textures and the way his breathing had changed. I still had no idea what it actually LOOKED like (that came later), but here was proof that men weren't bragging for nothing.
We were a bit late for the party, so we adjourned for the night. But later, The Boyfriend mentioned to me that it had been the first time he'd ever been satisfied to cut our time together short.
I was hooked.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Today brought to you by the letter...
Three "words/phrases of the day," since I've been lax in supplying them.
Arabic.
Katha ath nan means "caress my genitalia." Direct and to the point.
Nek ni means "fuck me!" Even MORE so.
Zabourah is a nice, pleasant term for "penis," and ironically is a feminine noun.
Arabic.
Katha ath nan means "caress my genitalia." Direct and to the point.
Nek ni means "fuck me!" Even MORE so.
Zabourah is a nice, pleasant term for "penis," and ironically is a feminine noun.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Blowfish is where it's at.
Gee, I love their reviews. I sort of want to work for them. I like that there are real people there, really trying everything.
I want Decadent Indulgence.
Or the Impulse Jack Rabbit, or Rechargeable Jack Rabbit.
Or Smart Balls.
I want Decadent Indulgence.
Or the Impulse Jack Rabbit, or Rechargeable Jack Rabbit.
Or Smart Balls.
Review for the Fukuoku.
Here I'm going to talk about the vibe I've got right now, the little finger vibe, Fukuoku 9000.
PROS: It's actually quite nice. It's affordable (I got mine for $18.00), unlike many vibrators, yet still delivers enough vibration (fast and fairly strong) to get you off. It slides easily over the finger, which makes targeting that perfect spot much easier. It's small and relatively quiet, making it easier to hide (if you need to hide it) and also convenient to use during sex. It comes with three differently textured latex slipcovers (doesn't make a huge difference for me, but it might for you).
CONS: The batteries, hands down, are the worst part. They're watch batteries, and $3 apiece. They don't last very long, and after the first couple of times you use the vibe, there's a noticeable difference in how strong the vibration is. The Fukuoku is also not designed to be inserted anywhere.
On the whole, a versatile, bank account-friendly, effective little vibe. I recommend it, especially to first time vibe-users, but your money could be better spent on a bullet vibe that uses cheaper batteries. If you do choose the Fukuoku, you might want to buy batteries in bulk. There's nothing worse than your vibe dying just as you're about to climax.
PROS: It's actually quite nice. It's affordable (I got mine for $18.00), unlike many vibrators, yet still delivers enough vibration (fast and fairly strong) to get you off. It slides easily over the finger, which makes targeting that perfect spot much easier. It's small and relatively quiet, making it easier to hide (if you need to hide it) and also convenient to use during sex. It comes with three differently textured latex slipcovers (doesn't make a huge difference for me, but it might for you).
CONS: The batteries, hands down, are the worst part. They're watch batteries, and $3 apiece. They don't last very long, and after the first couple of times you use the vibe, there's a noticeable difference in how strong the vibration is. The Fukuoku is also not designed to be inserted anywhere.
On the whole, a versatile, bank account-friendly, effective little vibe. I recommend it, especially to first time vibe-users, but your money could be better spent on a bullet vibe that uses cheaper batteries. If you do choose the Fukuoku, you might want to buy batteries in bulk. There's nothing worse than your vibe dying just as you're about to climax.
Delicious.
I just spent the past twenty minutes on the floor in ecstatic agony, panting and moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear, losing myself in extreme pleasure.
Iiii..am making myself numb. But it's so worth it, to hit that spot that makes me pulse, and think, "Aha! Got it." After that it's only a matter of time until my head starts feeling floaty and an amazing orgasm spreads from that one tiny spot to everywhere below the waist, making me shake and grab whatever's nearest until I ride it out and relax, noting that my spine is considerably more tense (oh well) and my toes are even curlier than usual.
And then I do it again, refusing to give up until I succeed or my batteries die (and let me tell you, that is the WORST FEELING EVER). So, it was twice tonight because it was starting to get that frostbite-y feeling and I knew if I tried again I'd only get frustrated.
After the first time I noticed that I was considerably slick, so at the peak of my next one I stuck two fingers inside to feel the anenome-like wave The Boyfriend described, which I'd never done...he was right, it's so cool! If I do say so myself. And after that was done, I ditched the Fukuoku and used three fingers (estimated to be about as thick as "him," so I know for sure I'll be able to take him at some point) to take care of my G-spot (that interesting ripply textured thing above that nubby thing), and I almost achieved the neat waterworks squirty thing that I haven't in some time, so next time I do that I'll keep going until I do so I can teach him, because it's REALLY cool, I have to say. As it was, I got tired, even though I was having fun admiring the heat and soft wetness of my insides, so I withdrew and sucked it all off my fingers.
Interesting flavor, that..not salty, like precum, but slightly bitter like citrus, with a more sweet and mild aftertaste. I like it, but that's just me.
Iiii..am making myself numb. But it's so worth it, to hit that spot that makes me pulse, and think, "Aha! Got it." After that it's only a matter of time until my head starts feeling floaty and an amazing orgasm spreads from that one tiny spot to everywhere below the waist, making me shake and grab whatever's nearest until I ride it out and relax, noting that my spine is considerably more tense (oh well) and my toes are even curlier than usual.
And then I do it again, refusing to give up until I succeed or my batteries die (and let me tell you, that is the WORST FEELING EVER). So, it was twice tonight because it was starting to get that frostbite-y feeling and I knew if I tried again I'd only get frustrated.
After the first time I noticed that I was considerably slick, so at the peak of my next one I stuck two fingers inside to feel the anenome-like wave The Boyfriend described, which I'd never done...he was right, it's so cool! If I do say so myself. And after that was done, I ditched the Fukuoku and used three fingers (estimated to be about as thick as "him," so I know for sure I'll be able to take him at some point) to take care of my G-spot (that interesting ripply textured thing above that nubby thing), and I almost achieved the neat waterworks squirty thing that I haven't in some time, so next time I do that I'll keep going until I do so I can teach him, because it's REALLY cool, I have to say. As it was, I got tired, even though I was having fun admiring the heat and soft wetness of my insides, so I withdrew and sucked it all off my fingers.
Interesting flavor, that..not salty, like precum, but slightly bitter like citrus, with a more sweet and mild aftertaste. I like it, but that's just me.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Purr-fection.
What a cheesy title.
Anyway, fellatio. My adoration for oral goes both ways, it seems.
I hadn't tried it until May of this year, because I was nervous and I wasn't sure I'd be able to do it well.
But it was after prom (oh, so cliche), and we were lying on the floor of my living room, in the dark at two in the morning. Nobody else was home. Gently, he coaxed me, and after a lot of stalling, I made my way down.
My technique, of course, was imperfect. It involved a lot of teeth (wince), although I did minimize it somewhat by recalling tips I'd heard before and covering them with my lips. But he seemed to enjoy it--actually, he definitely did, because after only a few minutes, what had been only a half-aroused cock was hard as rock, and he, a usually silent guy, was breathing heavily and quietly moaning.
Thrilled, I adopted fellatio as my favorite hobby.
The second ever time I gave him head (yes! fewer teeth! more lubrication!) was on the floor next to his bed, with his whole family home (I laugh in the face of danger, ha).
I was trying this twisty thing I'd heard about, and he was going, "Ahhh..yessss." Oh, it was sooo gratifying. And sexy. Mmmm, I love it when I'm able to focus on his pleasure alone. I think that was my favorite time doing that, but it's difficult to choose, really.
It was also immensely entertaining in his living room, with him being shy (for good reason, it's true) and me whispering in his ear, "You know you want me to..." and finding definite physical proof. But because it wasn't exactly private--his family was over on the other side of the house--he'd only allow me ten seconds at a time. Gosh, that was fun.
And I really do crave it. I've been wanting to do it pretty much 24/7 after the first time. Yum.
That time in the back seat of my Cadillac was fun, too. I liked being able to use my whole body to move up and down (makes for less of a sore neck, hooray), I liked the sounds he made and how stiff he was and close to orgasm the entire time (even though that didn't quite happen), and I liked being relatively in the open. Am I weird that way?
I find myself really missing it. This might sound odd, but he is blessed with what pretty much amounts to perfection between his legs (for me; a gorgeous, thick seven inches--any longer and it'd kill me, I'm so small). Lucky me. (Because as shallow as it sounds, it matters.)
I love him so much, and it's almost always physically evident that he loves me. Ahhhh.
I'm addicted...
...to cunnilingus.
Ever since the first time...I can't even explain what it does to me.
Moves me across the bed, for one thing. Makes my legs shake. Makes me twist the bedsheets in my hands.
I love digging my heels into his back. I love those moments when I watch him there between my legs, with that dark, intense look in his eyes. Those moments don't last very long though, because I can't do much besides close my eyes and arch my back..focusing doesn't work very well.
And it's one of the easiest ways to get turned on, thinking of his tongue.
It's like chocolate--those really delicious, melty Frangos. Or a long, slow, warm, wet massage.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
I need a distraction.
I'm eyeing the large conference room behind me. It has a big table in the middle, and leather chairs all around. The only problem is, the walls are mostly transparent. And thin.
But I still imagine myself writhing with pleasure on top of that table. I need to schedule a conference with The Boyfriend.
Try as I might, I simply cannot keep myself under control. If it wasn't for everyone walking around, I seriously believe I might actually...you know...
All I have to do is think of The Boyfriend, and my heart rate goes up.
It's not fair. He plays dirty.
If he wasn't so damned attractive, and he didn't cater to my every sexual whim, and he wasn't so hot blooded himself, I MIGHT have a chance.
But as it is...
Although I suppose if push came to shove, I would be the more evil of the two of us, considering nobody can tell when I'm turned on.
But I still imagine myself writhing with pleasure on top of that table. I need to schedule a conference with The Boyfriend.
Try as I might, I simply cannot keep myself under control. If it wasn't for everyone walking around, I seriously believe I might actually...you know...
All I have to do is think of The Boyfriend, and my heart rate goes up.
It's not fair. He plays dirty.
If he wasn't so damned attractive, and he didn't cater to my every sexual whim, and he wasn't so hot blooded himself, I MIGHT have a chance.
But as it is...
Although I suppose if push came to shove, I would be the more evil of the two of us, considering nobody can tell when I'm turned on.
Stockings.
I need some hold up stockings. Every once in a while I get huge cravings for them, and I never have just gone out and bought some.
Nobody to use them on, but there's nothing wrong with feeling sexy for myself.
Although what I really wish was that The Boyfriend was home, so I could surprise him wearing those and an extremely short silk dress. I want to be pushed against the wall. I want to wrap my legs around him and moan as he thrusts into me again and again.
Alas, it looks like I'll have to be resigned to solo sports for a long, long time.
But life would be better with this dress.
Stilettos wouldn't hurt, either.
Nobody to use them on, but there's nothing wrong with feeling sexy for myself.
Although what I really wish was that The Boyfriend was home, so I could surprise him wearing those and an extremely short silk dress. I want to be pushed against the wall. I want to wrap my legs around him and moan as he thrusts into me again and again.
Alas, it looks like I'll have to be resigned to solo sports for a long, long time.
But life would be better with this dress.
Stilettos wouldn't hurt, either.
Buzz, buzz.
The other night I was treated to three orgasms in a row, à la Fukuoku. I needed that.
(What I didn't need was The Boyfriend's family hearing me moan over the phone. Ack.)
Then I went to sleep.
What a thrilling life I lead.
(What I didn't need was The Boyfriend's family hearing me moan over the phone. Ack.)
Then I went to sleep.
What a thrilling life I lead.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Monday, July 10, 2006
Reeeeed Robin! (Yum.)
When our relationship was just a tiny seedling (and nobody knew about it), The Boyfriend and I wouldn't really go on official dates. I'd visit him at tennis practice and make all the other boys jealous; I'd go to his football games (he was a sexy trombone in the pep band); I'd hang out with him whenever I could. Usually I'd make something up for my parents so they wouldn't suspect that I was dating him (I'm not sure why it was so important for me to keep it a secret now), like I was hanging out with a bigger group and he just happened to be a member of the group.
One such occasion I remember pretty clearly, in September...I don't remember what we were doing during the day, but when it got dark, The Boyfriend and I got hungry, and we went to Red Robin to grab a bite. The place was packed, so we put our names on the list and went back to the car to wait for fifteen minutes.
The back seats of his car folded down, so we lay in the back and spooned (he kept blowing my hair out of his mouth) and talked. I discovered that I could give him goosebumps by running my fingers lightly up and down his arms and ribs. I was also experimenting with grinding my ass against his groin, trying to get a rise out of him. He'd scoot away, and I'd pout. The windows fogged up, and we used our fingers and toes to draw designs.
Fifteen minutes came and went.
One such occasion I remember pretty clearly, in September...I don't remember what we were doing during the day, but when it got dark, The Boyfriend and I got hungry, and we went to Red Robin to grab a bite. The place was packed, so we put our names on the list and went back to the car to wait for fifteen minutes.
The back seats of his car folded down, so we lay in the back and spooned (he kept blowing my hair out of his mouth) and talked. I discovered that I could give him goosebumps by running my fingers lightly up and down his arms and ribs. I was also experimenting with grinding my ass against his groin, trying to get a rise out of him. He'd scoot away, and I'd pout. The windows fogged up, and we used our fingers and toes to draw designs.
Fifteen minutes came and went.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
I hate my boobs.
I honestly do. And that makes me sad.
When they aren't cold or I'm not turned on, they just flop around with these giant, boring areolas and almost no nipple.
When they're aroused in some fashion, or supported by a bra or something, I like them a lot. They're 36 Cs, which is the perfect size for me, and they're pert and don't roll into my armpits when I lie on my back.
But if I get bored or the heat rises, it's all over. It makes me ashamed for others to see them, even The Boyfriend, who claims to love them and certainly pays a lot of attention to them, fondling and kissing and sucking and biting and so on, which I enjoy quite a bit.
But as much as they're appreciated by him, I want them to shape up. I don't need them bigger, I just want them rounder and perkier while I'm young. Is that too much to ask?
"New boobs" may have to be my college graduation present. Four more years. I can wait that long.
(In the theme of surgery, is there any type that can make a woman more sensitive and better able to orgasm?)
Even more messages.
Evidently I get very bored and very pent-up without much needed release, courtesy of The Boyfriend.
Luckily, he can access the internet where he is, so I like to torture him a little when he checks his messages.
Ah, summer. It's pleasant enough that I can sit outside, which makes me feel less guilty about fiddling away vacation on the computer.
I'm making good use of the patio furniture. My laptop is of course perched on the table underneath the umbrella, and I am perched adjacent to it in a chair similiar to a rocking chair, only spring-loaded. It's fun. I'm bouncing up and down and watching my reflection in the sliding glass door.
And I'm thinking of straddling you and sliiiiding down over you, shifting to take every last inch, until we're fully connected and I moan at how deep you are, with my back arched while you just lay back and relax and marvel at the hot, slick sensation of being inside me.
(Brief interjection: oh Lord. I'm practically vibrating with desire and I need to be fucked. Badly.)
I would rotate my hips and lean forward, grinding into you, sending shock waves of pleasure through my clit and into my stomach and legs. You'd lift your own hips and I'd bounce with the power of your thrusts, calling your name until I tense with impending orgasm and climax loudly. A little more movement on your part and you'd do the same, gasping as you exploded into me. We'd both relax and I'd bend to rest my head on your chest, with you still inside me.
I swear, I get dirtier every day. My apologies if it's too much. I think I have a pornographic calling.
I love you and I want you to make love to me every day. Maybe twice a day. Maybe more.
Brrr, a more chilly breeze just blew my way, but it's still light outside and around 65-70 degrees, so I'll stay put for a while longer.
I feel so cheesey and cliche, but I also feel extremely turned on and writing is really my only outlet. I like to think of you reading my notes and getting a hard on in public. (Yep. Evil. It's in my blood.)
Last night I didn't go to sleep until two in the morning. I was involved in an elaborate fantasy...I thought I'd make the best of my completely smooth self while I could.
I lay in bed and thought of our future selves. I couldn't decide who would be waiting at home for the other to come home from work, but it didn't really matter. I flip flopped back and forth, but mostly I settled on me either being home to begin with, or coming home before you. Mostly because the anticipation would help me to be ready for you; also because I could change or freshen up if work was tiring; and because I just enjoy ambushing you.
It's difficult for me to hold on to fantasy. I'm not used to it; I'm better just focusing on pleasure, and my brain makes me replay things over and over. It gets very frustrating when I'm just trying to get turned on and get off. But I thought I'd try because thinking about the things you do to me turns me on more than I can do to myself, and I wanted to be ALL the way turned on, for penetration to be more enjoyable rather than just playing with my clitoris.
Anyway, you'd come home, in your sexy work clothes; I'd have a skirt (nothing underneath) and heels and a button-up shirt, for the purpose of my fantasy. You'd walk in the door and I'd kiss you lightly, like always..and then deeper. You'd get the idea, of course, and unbutton my shirt. Fondling, kissing, unzipping, sucking, licking, gasping, pushing my skirt up to my hips and fucking me on the kitchen counter, on the living room couch, against the wall, on the stairs, on the chair in the office, coming there inside me; ripping my clothes off and doing it again on the bed, from the front, spooning, from behind, with my arms over my head and my wrists tied together and my legs spread roughly apart, first gently and then much harder, me coming messily and you all over my breasts and stomach.
That was the fantasy going on in my head. (Do I ever turn you off with how explicit I am? I can certainly tone it down, but I'll still be thinking it of course.)
What I was doing was massaging my breasts with my hand going into my shirt, the way you do; unbuttoning the shirt and throwing it across the room, pushing my pants down and tossing them off. I stroked myself up and down, caressing my curves and quietly moaning so no one would hear me, paying particular attention to the insides of my thighs, wandering over my snatch and enjoying the new sensations and my silky, bare skin. (It really does feel so much better, mmm.) I dipped a finger into myself, but I wasn't quite ready so I rubbed gently up and down with the lengths of my fingers, and did a circular, and then wavelike motion on my clit with wet fingertips, which sends pulses of shivery pleasure up my spine and gives me goosebumps (I'm rather pleased with this new discovery, it ALMOST feels like I might orgasm but inevitably I'm too lazy to do it long enough).
I took out the new vibe (I really like how bright red it is, and the texture), and decided to ignore the defect. The vibration is stronger than Sam's, but not concentrated in one spot so it's hard to figure it out. But with the end of the curved tip against the clitoris, it gives me enough satisfaction to keep it there for a while. Then I slide it up inside of me, which was a little uncomfortable because I'm not used to wider penetration anymore (I miss your fingers) and I wasn't entirely lubricated. So I went back to the clitoris and played around until I came to a fantastic orgasm, much much longer and more satisfying than what Sam can do (even though I love my tiny Fukuoku). I turned it off and moved my fingers back inside, increasing the lubrication and playing with the G-spot (but again, too tired/lazy to get anywhere except getting juicier) until I thought I could try the vibe again. Felt much easier and more comfortable and pleasurable than before, but I couldn't figure out how to apply the vibration to the G-spot to get that kind of orgasm, so I'll have to try harder next time...
Then I was tired and I went to sleep naked, my favorite way.
Well, that was fun, and rather clinical actually. ^^
After you reply to these notes, you OWE me some of your own.
And no more of that "I haven't got a camera" BS because disposable cameras are cheap and I fully intend to send you a shot of what I've got. I neeed pictures of your cock (pardon the term), preferably aroused as hell.
Thus concludes my session of, You Have an Extremely Nasty Girlfriend.
Luckily, he can access the internet where he is, so I like to torture him a little when he checks his messages.
Ah, summer. It's pleasant enough that I can sit outside, which makes me feel less guilty about fiddling away vacation on the computer.
I'm making good use of the patio furniture. My laptop is of course perched on the table underneath the umbrella, and I am perched adjacent to it in a chair similiar to a rocking chair, only spring-loaded. It's fun. I'm bouncing up and down and watching my reflection in the sliding glass door.
And I'm thinking of straddling you and sliiiiding down over you, shifting to take every last inch, until we're fully connected and I moan at how deep you are, with my back arched while you just lay back and relax and marvel at the hot, slick sensation of being inside me.
(Brief interjection: oh Lord. I'm practically vibrating with desire and I need to be fucked. Badly.)
I would rotate my hips and lean forward, grinding into you, sending shock waves of pleasure through my clit and into my stomach and legs. You'd lift your own hips and I'd bounce with the power of your thrusts, calling your name until I tense with impending orgasm and climax loudly. A little more movement on your part and you'd do the same, gasping as you exploded into me. We'd both relax and I'd bend to rest my head on your chest, with you still inside me.
I swear, I get dirtier every day. My apologies if it's too much. I think I have a pornographic calling.
I love you and I want you to make love to me every day. Maybe twice a day. Maybe more.
Brrr, a more chilly breeze just blew my way, but it's still light outside and around 65-70 degrees, so I'll stay put for a while longer.
I feel so cheesey and cliche, but I also feel extremely turned on and writing is really my only outlet. I like to think of you reading my notes and getting a hard on in public. (Yep. Evil. It's in my blood.)
Last night I didn't go to sleep until two in the morning. I was involved in an elaborate fantasy...I thought I'd make the best of my completely smooth self while I could.
I lay in bed and thought of our future selves. I couldn't decide who would be waiting at home for the other to come home from work, but it didn't really matter. I flip flopped back and forth, but mostly I settled on me either being home to begin with, or coming home before you. Mostly because the anticipation would help me to be ready for you; also because I could change or freshen up if work was tiring; and because I just enjoy ambushing you.
It's difficult for me to hold on to fantasy. I'm not used to it; I'm better just focusing on pleasure, and my brain makes me replay things over and over. It gets very frustrating when I'm just trying to get turned on and get off. But I thought I'd try because thinking about the things you do to me turns me on more than I can do to myself, and I wanted to be ALL the way turned on, for penetration to be more enjoyable rather than just playing with my clitoris.
Anyway, you'd come home, in your sexy work clothes; I'd have a skirt (nothing underneath) and heels and a button-up shirt, for the purpose of my fantasy. You'd walk in the door and I'd kiss you lightly, like always..and then deeper. You'd get the idea, of course, and unbutton my shirt. Fondling, kissing, unzipping, sucking, licking, gasping, pushing my skirt up to my hips and fucking me on the kitchen counter, on the living room couch, against the wall, on the stairs, on the chair in the office, coming there inside me; ripping my clothes off and doing it again on the bed, from the front, spooning, from behind, with my arms over my head and my wrists tied together and my legs spread roughly apart, first gently and then much harder, me coming messily and you all over my breasts and stomach.
That was the fantasy going on in my head. (Do I ever turn you off with how explicit I am? I can certainly tone it down, but I'll still be thinking it of course.)
What I was doing was massaging my breasts with my hand going into my shirt, the way you do; unbuttoning the shirt and throwing it across the room, pushing my pants down and tossing them off. I stroked myself up and down, caressing my curves and quietly moaning so no one would hear me, paying particular attention to the insides of my thighs, wandering over my snatch and enjoying the new sensations and my silky, bare skin. (It really does feel so much better, mmm.) I dipped a finger into myself, but I wasn't quite ready so I rubbed gently up and down with the lengths of my fingers, and did a circular, and then wavelike motion on my clit with wet fingertips, which sends pulses of shivery pleasure up my spine and gives me goosebumps (I'm rather pleased with this new discovery, it ALMOST feels like I might orgasm but inevitably I'm too lazy to do it long enough).
I took out the new vibe (I really like how bright red it is, and the texture), and decided to ignore the defect. The vibration is stronger than Sam's, but not concentrated in one spot so it's hard to figure it out. But with the end of the curved tip against the clitoris, it gives me enough satisfaction to keep it there for a while. Then I slide it up inside of me, which was a little uncomfortable because I'm not used to wider penetration anymore (I miss your fingers) and I wasn't entirely lubricated. So I went back to the clitoris and played around until I came to a fantastic orgasm, much much longer and more satisfying than what Sam can do (even though I love my tiny Fukuoku). I turned it off and moved my fingers back inside, increasing the lubrication and playing with the G-spot (but again, too tired/lazy to get anywhere except getting juicier) until I thought I could try the vibe again. Felt much easier and more comfortable and pleasurable than before, but I couldn't figure out how to apply the vibration to the G-spot to get that kind of orgasm, so I'll have to try harder next time...
Then I was tired and I went to sleep naked, my favorite way.
Well, that was fun, and rather clinical actually. ^^
After you reply to these notes, you OWE me some of your own.
And no more of that "I haven't got a camera" BS because disposable cameras are cheap and I fully intend to send you a shot of what I've got. I neeed pictures of your cock (pardon the term), preferably aroused as hell.
Thus concludes my session of, You Have an Extremely Nasty Girlfriend.
I can't believe I missed masturbation month.
And it's May! The month of my birth! I really should have known about this. And I should have been in San Francisco.
(It's not an incredible shame, because it's not like I wait for masturbation month to buff the muffin..but still.)
Anyway, I thought I'd do a little belated tribute in honor of it.
Male Masturbation
Futhermore
Et cetera
Euphemisms
Female Masturbation
Furthermore
Et cetera
Euphemisms
Mmmm. And now to finish the rest of the tribute in bed.
(It's not an incredible shame, because it's not like I wait for masturbation month to buff the muffin..but still.)
Anyway, I thought I'd do a little belated tribute in honor of it.
Male Masturbation
Futhermore
Et cetera
Euphemisms
Female Masturbation
Furthermore
Et cetera
Euphemisms
Mmmm. And now to finish the rest of the tribute in bed.
Third time's the charm.
Three names you go by:
Kanelmus (Swedish for "cinnamon mouse")
Ginger
Babe
Three things you like about yourself:
My hair
My eyes
My libido
Three things you dislike about yourself:
My insecurity
My cellulite
My boobs in their natural state
Three things that scare you:
Bears
Stormy seas
Abandonment
Three of your everyday essentials:
A hot shower
The Internet
An orgasm
Three things you are wearing right now:
Dangly earrings
A sexy brown tank
Hot jeans
Three favourite bands/artists of the moment:
Sufjan Stevens
Morningwood
Oasis
Three of your favourite songs of the moment:
Love Like a Bomb, Oasis
Twist, Goldfrapp
Bad Touch, Bloodhound Gang
Three new things you want to try in the next 12 months:
Sex on the beach, at camp
Using my pool/gym membership more often
College
Three things you want in a relationship (love is a given):
Passion
Fun
Empathy
Two truths and a lie (you can guess which is which):
I have had fifteen orgasms in a row, at a concert
I've never had a steady job
I have a scar on my finger from trying to peel a banana with a knife
Three physical things about the opposite (or same) sex that appeal to you:
Hair
Hands
Shoulders
Three things you just can't do:
Curl my tongue
Cry at funerals
Enjoy mayonnaise
Three of your favourite hobbies:
Reading
Singing anywhere
Picking out new vibrators
Three things you want to do really badly right now:
Fuck The Boyfriend
Eat some Temptation melon (mmm)
Fuck The Boyfriend some more
Three careers you're considering:
Massage therapist
Commercial Airline Pilot
Mortician
Three places you want to go on holiday:
The U.K.
Romania
French Polynesia
Three things you want to do before you die:
Travel everywhere I can
Go hang gliding
Live happily
Kanelmus (Swedish for "cinnamon mouse")
Ginger
Babe
Three things you like about yourself:
My hair
My eyes
My libido
Three things you dislike about yourself:
My insecurity
My cellulite
My boobs in their natural state
Three things that scare you:
Bears
Stormy seas
Abandonment
Three of your everyday essentials:
A hot shower
The Internet
An orgasm
Three things you are wearing right now:
Dangly earrings
A sexy brown tank
Hot jeans
Three favourite bands/artists of the moment:
Sufjan Stevens
Morningwood
Oasis
Three of your favourite songs of the moment:
Love Like a Bomb, Oasis
Twist, Goldfrapp
Bad Touch, Bloodhound Gang
Three new things you want to try in the next 12 months:
Sex on the beach, at camp
Using my pool/gym membership more often
College
Three things you want in a relationship (love is a given):
Passion
Fun
Empathy
Two truths and a lie (you can guess which is which):
I have had fifteen orgasms in a row, at a concert
I've never had a steady job
I have a scar on my finger from trying to peel a banana with a knife
Three physical things about the opposite (or same) sex that appeal to you:
Hair
Hands
Shoulders
Three things you just can't do:
Curl my tongue
Cry at funerals
Enjoy mayonnaise
Three of your favourite hobbies:
Reading
Singing anywhere
Picking out new vibrators
Three things you want to do really badly right now:
Fuck The Boyfriend
Eat some Temptation melon (mmm)
Fuck The Boyfriend some more
Three careers you're considering:
Massage therapist
Commercial Airline Pilot
Mortician
Three places you want to go on holiday:
The U.K.
Romania
French Polynesia
Three things you want to do before you die:
Travel everywhere I can
Go hang gliding
Live happily
Notes from The Boyfriend.
Me: Sooooo...
I got bored today and tired of looking all scrubby "down there." So around eleven (PM) I hopped in the shower and shaved it all off.
Usually I'm not into that sort of thing because it looks too pre-pubescent. And it looks really strange from above (my vantage point).
But it looks fantastic when I spread my legs...
And it's so silky when I touch myself..
And every little sensation (silk, for example, or water) is magnified five times.
DAMN I wish you were here. You wouldn't get hair in your mouth, and I would have one rockin' orgasm.
Him: Is it bad to be perpetually turned on like i am? all i have to do is revisit any of these messages or your letters and it's all over (my restraint, that is)
i want you on your back, arched in the air, feebly grabbing on to the nearest solid object, quivering in pleasure.
i want you to be shaking uncontrollably, penetrated completely, no spot of you left unchecked.
i want your sweat dripping off your breasts as i thrust into you over and over again.
i want you blind with passion, lost completely in the sensation of being owned completely.
i want there to be no thought in your head at all, save how utterly fantastic it feels.
and afterwards, i want you to collapse, exhausted, into a deep sleep, dreaming about every detail of what just happened.
and then i want you to wake up and want it all over again.
I got bored today and tired of looking all scrubby "down there." So around eleven (PM) I hopped in the shower and shaved it all off.
Usually I'm not into that sort of thing because it looks too pre-pubescent. And it looks really strange from above (my vantage point).
But it looks fantastic when I spread my legs...
And it's so silky when I touch myself..
And every little sensation (silk, for example, or water) is magnified five times.
DAMN I wish you were here. You wouldn't get hair in your mouth, and I would have one rockin' orgasm.
Him: Is it bad to be perpetually turned on like i am? all i have to do is revisit any of these messages or your letters and it's all over (my restraint, that is)
i want you on your back, arched in the air, feebly grabbing on to the nearest solid object, quivering in pleasure.
i want you to be shaking uncontrollably, penetrated completely, no spot of you left unchecked.
i want your sweat dripping off your breasts as i thrust into you over and over again.
i want you blind with passion, lost completely in the sensation of being owned completely.
i want there to be no thought in your head at all, save how utterly fantastic it feels.
and afterwards, i want you to collapse, exhausted, into a deep sleep, dreaming about every detail of what just happened.
and then i want you to wake up and want it all over again.
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