Chewing Her Handcuffs

Time for another image…and I really like the smile on this woman’s face:

From the Bondage Blog.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Mistress Matisse and one of her henchmen (the one with all the rope) are having a contest. It’s not for everyone — oh no, Mister Frodo! — but it sounds like it will be fun to watch.

Researchers Find That Monkeys Pay to See Ass

When I saw this report, I almost fell out of my chair laughing. Live Science reports that male monkeys pay to see female monkey bottoms.

But wait, it gets better. Guess what the Duke researchers want to do next? You guessed it:

Next, Platt and his colleagues want to see how people will perform in a similar experiment.

Uh, hello guys? You can come back to planet earth any time now…..

As Fark says, “Duke sucks.” (No, I don’t know why they post that with almost every mention of Duke.)

Now For Something Really Pretty!

Okay, I’ve had enough of the Aphrodite and Bacchus pic war. It’s Nymph’s turn!

Actually, I wanted to show off one of the goodies I found at Eros Boutique so Bacchus will put it on my Valentine’s Day wish list. I *want* it!

Hot Bodies

Ewwwww, that spider picture totally squicks me! Thus, as a public service to everyone similarly afflicted, I push it farther downscreen with something much more appealing:

Whew! I don’t know what I’d do first, spank or lick that luscious bottom.

What? That’s not to your taste? Okay, then, how about this?

Sofia was found at the always-worth-a-visit Domai.com. The yummy man was found at naked-men.co.uk.

An Egg In A Pretty Mouth

I don’t like looking at ambiguously-gendered asses any more than Aphrodite likes spider porn, so I have to bump her latest down the page with something. Why not some innocent food photography?

This reminds me of a scene from the notorious Japanese food movie Tampopo.

Nude, With Spider

Say what you will, but this has got to tickle:

I’ve heard people say “Tarantulas make really good pets, you would be suprised.” Yes, I would — to put it mildly. May I persist in clinging to the hope that we are looking at a really good fake spider here?

Picture via alt. binaries. pictures. nude.

The Story of R, Part 3: Interlude

I am so not a porn writer, just to warn anybody who hasn’t read the first two parts yet…..but some readers are still interested in this tale, so I’ll continue to tell.

Part 1

Part 2

R called my folks’ house Thanksgiving evening to tell me that some problem had sprung up and he’d need to go back to Washington sooner than he’d planned…like, tomorrow. I agreed to meet him early Friday morning, even though I was unsure of what I wanted out of our re-established relationship, and less sure of what he wanted.

Over breakfast, R tells me that it’s been alot of fun, reconnecting with me, and especially venting some of those teenage fantasies…..But…..the pause draws out uncomfortably. Finally he looks up from his coffee and finishes, “But that’s not how I am now. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to show you how I am now.”

Intrigued, I reply, “Well, how’s about you tell me how you are now?” His glum face furrows into a frown. “Telling is even harder. [another long pause] If we lived closer, and if I didn’t have to travel so goddamn much, it might be worth trying…..”

Trying what? I wonder. Instead, I say, “You know me R, I’ll try anything once, and if it doesn’t kill me, I might just try it again.” Expecting him to smile at that, I’m instead baffled by an expression of thoughtful pondering, followed after another long pause by, “Mmmm…..yes, you’re still adventurous…..”

Finally R emerges from his thinking and says, “If you’re game, I’ll put on my thinking cap and see what I come up with.”

My curiosity is just about killing me at this point, so even though some small corner of my brain is going, WTF is this all about?, I reply, “Hell yes I’m game. Just give me enough notice to juggle my work.”

The conversation then turns to other topics. As we’re leaving the restaurant, R asks me to say goodbye to my family for him. Then, he pulls me to him, opening his leather jacket as if to enfold me in it. Our goodbye kiss starts innocently enough, but quickly becomes passionate, and almost involuntarily I hungrily press my hips forward. R shifts slightly, still kissing me….brings a hand up to my breast….and tweaks my nipple, hard. My gasp of surprise and pain breaks the kiss, and I see a glint of something far beyond impish in R’s eyes. He pulls away, saying, “I’ll let you know what I come up with.”

As I watch his SUV move away I realize I’m soaking wet, and desperate for a fuck….almost as if R hadn’t slaked my hunger at all.

Buy Some Liquid O, Then Get Off On Your Weenie Baby

Rori finds the most interesting stuff. In a recent post she tells of discovering Liquid O, described on its site as “high octane fuel for your sex life.” Interesting….but what really caught my attention is the graphic she included in her entry. It’s a stuffed flamingo with a penis.

Yes, in addition to selling Liquid O, stuff so powerful you simply apply one drop directly to the clitoris, then “relax and enjoy the unimagined orgasmic experiences,” they sell Weenie Babies. That link goes only to the animals still in stock–another page shows all the Weenie Babies, including my favorite, Bondage Kitty (in two varieties, no less!).

Bondage Kitties are all sold out, alas…..so I guess I’ll have to settle for Ice Pube instead:

Don’t worry, Nymph, there are two other Weenie Baby bears to choose from too. :D There’s probably enough time for Bacchus to procure one for Valentine’s Day.

An Unexpected Hazard Of Outdoor Sexercise

Yesterday I was helping my landlady shovel our driveway out….with over a foot of snow to deal with, it was alot of work, but we had fun. She confided that after her kids were born, she had a hard time “getting tight down there” again, until she discovered that snow shoveling provided a good opportunity for Kegel exercises too…..she didn’t call them that, though. She said she’d “give a good squeeze” with each shovelful of snow, and it tightened her up again “right quick.”

We had plenty of driveway left when she told me all this, so I figured, why not give it a try? What she didn’t mention is that a person can get so wet doing all that clenching that her clothes could freeze to her twat! :O

Couldn’t I Just Juggle Some Bottles of Liquid Nitroglycerine?

I spent seven years feeling this way, once, so I can vouch for this:

Men approach even highly familiar women with the same dread really old people have of computers: Touch one wrong button and life will never be the same.

From The Neurotic Gentleman’s Guide to Bringing Up Spanking with Your Wife or Significant Other; or C’mon, Honey, You Know I Was Only Kidding! at Functional Ambivalent.

One of the many reasons I love The Nymph is that she doesn’t make me feel this way. If I were, metaphorically speaking, to show up at her bedroom door with four leather belts and a gallon of blueberry syrup, the worst reaction I can imagine would be some laughing version of “In your dreams, Buster!” Far more likely: “What? No whipped cream?”

A Huge Win For Sexual Liberty And Privacy

This is absolutely huge good legal news for the adult industry, and an astonishing win for unsympathetic defendant Rob Black of Extreme Associates (also known as the gonzo spitting-and-insult-screaming-and-shoving-dick-down-her-throat-until-she-vomits pornographers). The federal government has been toiling away at putting together a huge obscenity show trial against Mr. Black and some associates of his, with the apparent goal of putting him in jail for a lot of years and then using that conviction to scare the more-responsible mainstream pornography business back into the shadows.

Well, it didn’t work, because the trial judge threw out all the obscenity charges on constitutional grounds, saying:

“We find that the federal obscenity statutes burden an individual’s fundamental right to possess, read, observe and think about what he chooses in the privacy of his own home by completely banning the distribution of obscene materials.

Usual disclaimers apply: trial court, likely to be appealed, ain’t over yet, yadda yadda yadda.

Ironic twist worth noting: Supreme Court Justices Rehnquist, Scalia, and Thomas are owed a vote of thanks for their participation in this outcome. When the Lawrence v. Texas sodomy case (the one declaring that whatever legitimate interest a government may have in trying to impose a moral code, it’s not a good enough reason to intrude into personal and private sexual lives) was decided last year, these justices dissented with the rather sour but extremely accurate observation that the decision “called into question” laws against obscenity — an observation upon which the judge relied heavily in the Extreme Associates case.

More Fun With Duct Tape

Another of the many uses of duct tape, from (who else?) The Bondage Blog. Who knew that taping cute college girls to the dormitory wall was on the list?

How to Dominate a Strong Woman

I haven’t forgotten about my story of R……just been way too busy for alot of fun. However, to drop a hint as to what’s coming up in future installments, Taken In Hand’s Carlf offers some good advice on dominating a strong woman:

“…a strong woman usually needs a man who is just a little bit stronger than she is. Her dominating man needs to be strong enough to tame her but not so strong that she feels insignificant.”

That sounds exactly right to me.

Harem Girls Are Tasty

From the comments at Spanking Bethie, this important wisdom:

“Harem girls are like potato chips: nobody can have just one.”

Hmmmm. Now, where did I put that really big bowl of onion dip?

More Kinkiness from the Cocky Bastard and Burning Man

As a visitor so nicely confirmed in a comment on my post yesterday, the picture is indeed from Burning Man. Nekkid Jim also recommended a stop by his Beastial Hump Camp photo page, which is, um, different. Think “Loch Ness Cock”…..

Anyway, the Cocky Bastard has other kinky playa pix too…..including one that makes me laugh every time I see it. It’s hidden behind the “more” link for this reason: Nymph, you might not want to look!
Yes people, it’s Bondage Bear!

Tucker Max In Love

Yup, the infamous Tucker Max, self-described asshole, is in love. And you can sort of see his point:

Then she got competitive, telling me she could beat me at Madden. Whatever; let’s bet. I proposed we bet oral sex–loser goes down on the winner. She quickly agreed. We started talking shit to each other over email, and she wrote what may be the single greatest paragraph ever written by a woman:

“I’m well aware that you are a legend. However, that doesn’t deter me from wiping the floor with you at Madden. I’m just that good. And if you do in fact beat me as you claim? Who cares, I’m still giving you head.”

Then we had this exchange:

Me: “You realize that I can’t lose to you now, don’t you? Nothing personal, I like you now and bet we are going to get along great, but there is no way I lose.”

Her: “I can talk the talk and can back it up as well. I’ve accepted the challenge and the fact that I’ll wreck you in Madden. And like I stated before, I’m still a gracious loser. Only I’ll be wearing a face full of your cum.”

Me: “This has to stop–you are turning me on now.”

Her: “I see nothing wrong with a good facial every now and then. I’ll alternate…swallow and facial. fair enough?”

Yeah…I think I am in love.

Unfortunately, she’s wasted on Tucker.

Ride the Wild Penis

Yee-ha! I’m not sure how I got started on the Wild West theme lately, but here’s another photo that amuses me a lot:

This image, found at Cocky Bastard, had no explanation with it…..but with the mountains in the background, I’d bet it’s from a Burning Man. I’m fascinated by that penis…..what is it made of? What would it feel like to be riding it like this guy (identified as “Jim”) is doing? It’s way too big to fit in me….but it makes me squirmy and wet anyway.

More On Women Who Love Jerks

It’s been awhile since we’ve visited that hoary old topic about why so many women love jerks and shun nice guys, while whining that their boyfriends are jerks and they can’t find any nice guys. It’s a rare man on either side of the jerk/nice-guy divide who hasn’t noticed this phenomenon, although a fair number of women still deny that it happens.

Now, for the first time on Eros Blog, some input from a bad man (his term) who speaks up with the jerk point of view:

Now, for all of my “nice guy” readers, all the shy guys who don’t understand why “she’s with that jerk and not me” and the rest, I believe that it can be summed up thusly:

We’ve got balls, and you don’t.

Another country heard from….

ErosBlog: Now With RSS!

Hey everybody, I’m pleased to announce that ErosBlog now has the oft-requested RSS feed. (If you don’t know what this is, or why you should care, don’t worry; let’s just say it’s a tool for hard-core blog readers so they can read more blogs faster.)

I’d been stalling on this because I had wrongly understood that I would have to hack some .cgi files to implement a feed in Greymatter. I now owe an enormous debt to Sunni Maravillosa, who Googled up a neat little easier way and then wrote it down for me in simple plain-English sentences of instruction. Sunni, thanks a million!

Although it validates, the feed’s not perfect for all purists, because it can only include the most recent two items (rather than the fifteen or so I’m told the RSS spec calls for). Also, I’ve deliberately chosen to restrict the feed to post titles plus a fifteen-word excerpt. I know there are lots of good reasons why readers prefer full-content feeds, but unfortunately that won’t work for an adult blog. The reason is, there are some bogus porn blogs out there that have zero original content. What they do is subscribe to some RSS feeds and slap posts from other adult blogs on a page that’s absolutely buried in aggressive advertising, complete with popup hells and autodownloads and such. In effect, they use our text to lure in search engine visitors, and then abuse them mercilessly. By limiting my feed, I can limit the effectiveness of that tactic.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled erotic programming.

More Old-Fashioned Sexiness

I love visiting Corset Dreams. There’s always alot of beautiful items there…..some are too frilly to appeal to me, but others stop me in my tracks. Here’s one I saw recently that hit all my buttons:

Simple, sexy corset…..vintage styling…..and made of leather. Hot stuff! The lady looks good enough to be a RetroRaunch pinup, too.

Please Turn Off Cell Phones During The Show

OK, if turning off your cell phone during the movie is a good idea, maybe turning it off during sex is an even better idea? One of the guys on this page might agree:

Also, I once called my parent’s answering machine during sex because of a cell phone in my pocket down by my knees. That was pretty embarrassing.

I’ve gotten cell phone calls from cats, but never from a — oh, never mind.

Oral Sex In Church

If you like to conflate your religious and sexual imagery, you’ll be entertained by this: How to Give Head in the Men’s Bathroom of the Church you Were Baptized, Given First Communion, and Confirmed In.

Too short to excerpt fairly.

Sexy Bites

I mentioned in the second part of my “story of R” that he bit my ass. What I didn’t say is how much I liked it, and that liking it surprised me some. More on this plus the next installment when I’m able to relax some, and think about all that happened…..For now, check out TwiddlyBits’ biting confession to the Twisted Monk. Better prizes than Amway indeed! :laugh:

Salad Oil Porn Versus Salad Oil Art

OK, since we are still in a compare-and-contrast mode from the last post, can anyone explain to me why it’s art when this woman “dances and acts” while 22 bottles of olive oil are poured over her naked body on a public stage, but it’s porn when these young ladies get into an inflatable swimming pool and pour a similar quantity of canola oil over each other?

Torturing Cheerleaders, Lawyer Style

OK, so it’s a little unfair to criticize a defense lawyer for putting his client’s actions in the best possible light. But it’s not unfair, I maintain, for us to laugh our asses off when his attempts to do so are ludicrous. Which seems appropriate when the defense lawyer for an Abu Ghraib torturer tries to justify piling naked prisoners in pyramids, asking:

“Don’t cheerleaders all over America form pyramids six to eight times a year. Is that torture?”

Obviously that’s a question that requires careful research.

I don’t personally know any of the cheerleaders who form naked pyramids six or eight times a year. Darn! So I can’t ask them if it’s torture. Still, on available evidence, the girls in this pyramid seem happy enough. And the skilled young ladies who model for Lightspeed University always seem to have a smile on their faces, even when it’s just about all they have on:

(From this gallery.)

Now all we need to do is find some cheerleaders who can tell us what it’s like to make a naked pyramid in a dank concrete room at gunpoint in front of jeering soldiers and slavering guard dogs. Oh, wait … that’s different.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Torturing Women In Prison
• Naked Pyramid
• Tortured By Vice Girls In Guantanamo

Beautiful Nude Art Photography from Valery Bareta

No time for storytelling today. But I do have good news: while looking back over what I’d said about R in November, I clicked through to Valery Bareta, to see if his site is back. It is, and it’s stunning.

He’s an “art photographer”, so if you’re looking for raw sexy stuff, best look elsewhere. Valery’s got an impressive variety of nudes in many galleries; if you like beautiful bodies, I’m sure you’ll find something to enjoy. To whet your appetite:

I’ve always loved sunflowers. This photo is the feature for this week–a great antidote to the dreary weather in my part of the world.

And, found in the “classic” subgallery of the Art Nude gallery:

Many treasures await your discovery!

Edited after the embarrassing discovery, prompted by a visitor’s comment, that Valery is a man. My apologies, Mr. Bareta! This leads me to announce a New Year’s Resolution: to read the “about me” page on a site before talking about its creator. :blush:

The Story of R: Further Thanksgiving Sexploits

[Continuing my story….. Here’s the first part, Unexpected Reunion, in case you haven’t read it.]

I awaken the next morning in a lingering, warm glow from R’s and my passion. I feel more rested and energized than I have in a long time….then I slip in to wondering what will happen next between us. Was that it–one night of hot sex–or is there more in store for us? If there is, what will it be like? Reliving the crazed teenage lust was fun, but that won’t–can’t–last.

As I’m sitting at the kitchen table, having a cup of coffee and talking with Mom, someone raps on the front door. It’s R.Mom knows some stuff about the unrequited feelings between R and me in school, and she’s been kind of charmed by him too. Now he stands at her door, well-dressed and smiling that smile, loosely holding two white roses in one hand. After they hug, he presents her with one rose, then sees me and his smile widens. R asks Mom for permission to see me, which she enthusiastically gives. He steps in to the kitchen and offers me the other rose. It’s exquisite in both appearance and heady scent.

In response to my mother’s questions regarding how he knew I was home, R coolly covers our chance meeting at the store. He makes the entire encounter sound totally innocent, as if his interest is solely in re-establishing friendship with a longlost bud…but there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye that I wonder if my mom sees. Talk then turns to catching up between them…..like any well-meaning mom, she’s probably thinking matchmaker thoughts and a lot of the talk focuses on what he’s doing, and how well he’s doing at it. Turns out he’s doing quite well as an executive for a fairly big tech company. Not Mr. Millionaire himself, but he’s well-paid and he has a lot of corporate perks available to him. As they talk, I observe…..and see that, while R’s being genuine, it’s also obvious he’s mastered a lot of people-handling skills.

R’s visit concludes with asking my mom to take some of the family’s already-limited time with me over the Thanksgiving weekend so that he and I can catch up. Utterly charmed, she says of course he can spend time with me. R turns to me, green eyes ablaze with impish sparks, and asks if I’d like to go for a walk with him tonight. I agree, and the date is set.

——-

What a “next move”! I think to myself afterward. I decide to try to ride the youthful-lust energy for one more night. When R appears precisely at the appointed time, he sees me in my best attempt to recapture my typical high-school appearance…..soft flannel shirt, tight jeans, my hair caught in a ponytail (much shorter than back then), even my old high-tops (thanks, Mom, for not throwing them out!)….a sharp intake of breath signals a momentary lapse in his poise. My composure is similarly thrown off. He hadn’t used the “wayback machine” like I did, but is just gorgeous in a simple white turtleneck sweater, light blue jeans, and black leather jacket.

As we stroll to the park, I notice that few people are out….it’s a cool night for the locals. R and I aren’t saying much–more general talk, filling in all those missing years–but he’s taken my hand, and caresses it as we walk. I sense real caring from R, and an undercurrent of passion, in both his touch and talk. Forgetting my decision to let him lead, I impetuously steer us to “The Wet Spot”….a small clearing in an overgrown corner of the park, long rumored to be a hot spot used by teens and grownups alike for furtive encounters.

I stop in front of it and turn to face him with my question: “You ever make it with anybody here?” The unexpected challenge brings a lovely flush to his lightly-tanned face, and as he tries to stammer a reply I press on with, “Ya want to tonight?” and crawl in without waiting for his reply.

He follows immediately, surprising me with a bite on the ass as he does. I yip, then wheel around so that he can see my face as I peel off my clothes. The moonlight lends its soft glow to my skin, and R greedily drinks in the sight. At last I’m naked, cool but comfortable in the night air….and R finally breaks his spell with a murmur of something like, “You’re better than I dreamed …” Then his warm hands are upon me, stroking and exploring in a way that seems almost worshipful to me. Awed, I slip out of the teenage tart role and enjoy his attentions.

With a muffled growl, R abruptly changes the pace, pulling me to him hard, then kneading my ass as his tongue fills my mouth. His taste and scent fill my head…the heat of his erection warms my belly even through his jeans…..and we’re back in passion’s thrall, squeezing, sucking, tasting, teasing….exploring and riding the heat more fully than we did the previous night.

After getting my first taste of R’s cock and fluids, bringing him almost to orgasm with my teasing tongue, he pushes me down onto my hands and knees, then moves behind me for entry. We both groan at the immediate pleasure of filling and being filled….with just a few flicks to my clit and a couple of pumps, I’m shuddering with the intensity of my orgasm. R’s only a few moments behind me, gasping as my vagina squeezes around him. I collapse to the ground, R blanketing me, both lost in the twilight of pleasure.

Finally, R chuckles and pulls out. “You’re quite the sexpot, sweetie, but this carelessness really isn’t a good idea.” I laugh and agree, and we have the sex-history and protection talks. Even though tests taken during his marriage some years back indicated he has a low sperm count, we agree that tempting fate isn’t smart, and work out a contraceptive arrangement. Through the conversation our hands continue to explore each other’s bodies, ultimately causing our talk to falter.

R’s incessant pinching and teasing of my nipples is enough to bring me to another, small orgasm. I decide to reward him in kind, with a blow job….and end up in the most amazing 69 session I’ve had. R comes first, shooting a decent amount of fluid for having already come once. The lull in action while he orgasms serves only as a tortuous tease for me….so when R resumes his oral attentions I’m easily brought off again by his hot, deft tongue. He barely allows me to climax before rolling atop me and filling me again with his still-hard member, pounding me as wave after wave of pleasure pours through me…..finally ending in his orgasm.

Much later, as we’re walking back to my parents’ house, we agree to not get together the next day…..but it’s clearly understood that we’re both enjoying this….whatever it is, and want it to continue.

The Call Girl Diaries

Wow. An old (1998) internal message board for a Florida call girl ring, exposed to the light of day by the persistent robots at Google. Amazing levels of bitchiness and paranoia. Check out this policy:

Remember our policy when we fire girls. We don’t TELL them that they are fired, we just don’t book them. They can call in, they can call on, they can do what they want. If they ask why there are no bookings for them, say what you want. Tell them our site was down (true), tell them we are being careful (true), or whatever. It’s important that we don’t inflame these girls, even if they treat us badly.

How bad would it suck to do business with people like this?

Link via Boing Boing.

The Story of R: Unexpected Reunion

I’m gonna borrow the DirtyTalkinGirl’s serial format for telling this story, so that I can focus on the bits and pieces of it, and so that it won’t be one huge blog splat to read through. (I see she’s started another series, the vixen. :D ) I also thought about pulling out the best parts of our story, and creating a story out of them….maybe a site like Sssh would buy it….but my writing needs lots of improvement before I’d be able to sell something! Anyway, I promised to tell the story to you first, so here we go…

Looking back over the ErosBlog archives, I see that I didn’t provide alot of detail about our Thanksgiving adventures. Since the story really starts there, that’s where I’ll begin today.

R was probably my first serious romantic interest. My hormones were just starting to percolate when he started talking to me in school. It was all innocuous stuff, sports and homework and music, but he was friendly, and cute….and I noticed that I was feeling new things, caused by his attention. Even though I liked talking to him, I’d often get distracted by his appearance, or his yummy smell…..that happened pretty regularly when we’d be doing something together. The new twitchings and longings happened more when I’d think about him, especially as I was lying awake in bed at night, trying to fall asleep. It was a mystifying, maddening, yet delicious torture! As I said in my first entry about R, we never were able to hook up throughout school, though we both wanted to. And we both thought about it a lot over the years. That made our unexpected reunion pretty predictable….and explosive.

So, I’m standing there in the store trying to decide what liquor to buy, when the jangle of the bell announces someone’s entrance. I hadn’t been paying any attention to that before, but this time I look up, and my heart flips. It looks like R!! Nah, it couldn’t be, I tell myself, he wanted to get away from this hick town as bad as I did. It’s wishful thinking. But I couldn’t pull my eyes away….the walk, the hair….it’s him. At about the same moment I decide to approach him, R turns and sees me looking at him. He seems to have none of my doubts–his face blooms into the big, happy smile that I’d burned into my mind all those years ago. Seeing that dissolved my uncertainty that it was really him….and suggested he was as happy to see me as I was him.

Our purchases completed while making reconnecting chit-chat, we step outside, and each of us exhales deeply. Neither wants to say goodbye, but who wants to make a move? Remembering how he liked my wackiness, I strike first. I say something like, “I so do not wanna go back to the oldsters yet. You got somewhere to be, or do you want to cruise with me?” He says that sounds like fun, and we choose his bigger SUV to drive around to all our old cruising places.

As he drives we’re still catching up on news and stuff, and I’m not paying a lot of attention to where we’re going until he stops the car. It’s Lover’s Lane (yes, that’s its real name), but it’s even better now because it’s just as deserted and the trees and bushes along the old curvy road are bigger…..and after he stops the car, R turns to me and softly says, “I never stopped thinking about you, or wanting to find you.” I answer by launching myself across the seat and delivering a kiss that tries to make up for all we hadn’t been able to say or do back in school.

He’s surprised but recovers almost immediately, and returns the kiss enthusiastically. Then we start giggling….then talking and kissing and giggling more, as we shed any lingering shyness and spill the things that remained unsaid for so long. Pretty soon, the talking slows……then the giggling follows suit, and our kisses become more….intense. They’ve all been intense, but it’s clear what we’re both wanting to happen next.

I begin to caress his body, stroking lower down his flanks each time as his enjoyment of my touch is obvious. He responds by grabbing both my breasts at once in typical high-school-hornboy fashion, which provokes an outburst of giggles that is smothered by hotter kisses, and gasps of pleasure from me as he massages my breasts. My hand dives to his crotch, and finds an ample reward. Even through the thick cloth of his jeans, I can tell he’s rock hard….and pretty large. He softly moans his pleasure at my strokes.

What happened next is kind of hazy in my mind. Somehow we shifted from the front seat to the back, and we’re going at it like two crazed teenagers–no taking clothes off except to uncover the bits that so crave attention, no safe-sex discussion or precautions, no what-happens-afterward talk, no attention to techniques and tricks–just heat and wet and the all-out explosion of pent-up passion. And I do explode, again and again…..R is very generously endowed in both length and girth, and he fills me and rides me hard, lasting a surprisingly long time before his orgasm overtakes him.

He remains inside me for a bit, as we catch our breath and regain our faculties…..neither of us seems embarrassed or uncomfortable with what just happened. Finally we separate, tidy ourselves up a bit, and with some more general, comfortable conversation, he drives me back to my car at the store parking lot. There, R gives me that big, irresistable smile again, along with another mind-melting kiss.

Once I get home and take a swig of the hooch I’d bought, I decide that since I had been such a forward lass, the next move would be up to him. I suspected it wouldn’t be long in, er, coming … and I was right.

Big, Bouncy Cartoon Boobs

There are some things no zipper should be asked to contain. These are two of those things:

Yet another gem from Usenet.

Sex Blog Tip

Spanking Blog has a long post up full of adult blogging tips — although many are applicable to all sorts of blogging, and not just to sex blogs. I wish more people felt this way:

Be very wary of negotiated link exchanges. If somebody has already linked to you, and emails you to ask for a return link, try to give their site a fair look. It’s polite to reciprocate, but not fair to your surfers if the site sucks. However, if someone emails you about an “exchange of links”, but hasn’t put your own link up yet, they are telling you “I don’t think your site is good enough to link to, but I’ll do it anyway if you’ll link to me first.” Screw that. Half the time, even if you do put up the link, they never reciprocate. But the important point is: they don’t respect you enough to link to you. They only want your return link. Again, screw that.

What he said, once again with feeling: “Screw that!”

A Story, While Waiting For My Stories

I’m embarrassed because as I was crawling into my lonely bed last night I realized that I’ve now promised y’all two stories….my favorite fantasy and the tale of R and me and our holiday vacation. I’m still trying to get caught up on work that piled up while I was gone, and neither of these stories is going to be a fast writing job. But I am trying to get time for them, and you will see them at some point. If there’s more interest for one than the other (you can provide your “vote” in a comment) that’s the one I’ll do first.

Meantime, I was catching up on Bacchus’ older posts, and saw this one, that includes links to some kinky Harry Potter fanfic. Here’s one I found that is similar, but more focused on emotions than graphically describing acts. It’s called Remains, and it’s by RazorQueen. Scanning down her blog, I see links to more sexy Harry Potter stuff….and looking at her website, a whole section of adult fanfic. And dark poetry. Yowza. A couple of her love poems really got to me….if I had read them before R invited me out to play for the holidays I might not have gone.

Will that help hold you while I try to find time to write the stories I’ve promised you? :)

We Have the Nicest Friends

Expanding again on a post by my esteemed colleague…but we do have the nicest friends. In addition to those Bacchus mentioned in his post yesterday, and those who decloaked in the comments (DTG at PussyTalk, smooches and thanks for nominating ErosBlog as a best “big-name” blog, whatever that is), others share the loveliest stuff with us. A nice example follows; I found it yesterday when I checked my email from here for the first time since returning home:

She calls it a “Sugar Plum fairy” ensemble, but I see it as a beautiful snow or winter queen creation…..and although I understand why she did it, it’s too bad our thoughtful Stockings Diva of Corset Dreams and Lingerie Dreams didn’t provide a full shot of her obviously pretty face. Thanks in part to her, I’ve resolved to get back into better shape, even though I’ve nobody to show it off to right now….I want to wear sensuous stuff like this and look hot in it for myself! Perhaps I’ll return the photo favor some day, too. :)

Mistress Matisse: Queen Of The Sex Bloggers?

So I was looking at the Best Of Blog nominations (because somebody told me ErosBlog was on there, albeit in a mystifying category with a horrifying and ridiculous scarlet-letter disclaimer after our name.) I was delighted to discover that the enormously entertaining Mistress Matisse is a finalist in the best sex blog category.

Now, obviously I like her blog a lot, or it likely wouldn’t be at the very top of my sex blog list. (Lower down, position doesn’t mean anything; but blogs near the top are all ones much liked by Aphrodite, The Nymph, or me.) Matisse combines an entertaining writing style I can’t even manage to dream of having with a commendable willingness to write about her own personal and professional exploits, which are (from the perspective of a country boy like me) themselves rather eye-opening. The combination ensures that her blog is the first link I click every morning when I open my blog. I therefore commend her to your voting finger. You know what to do.

What? Not convinced yet? Smart and funny don’t do it for ya? So you’re one of those horndogs who wouldn’t cast a vote for Pope without shouting “show us yer tits” first? We got ya covered:

Unreduced photo here.

If Matisse doesn’t do it for you, there are other worthy candidates on the sex blog list, including at least one set of old blogfriends that would be very close in the contest for my fickle affections if they only posted more regularly. (Hi, Mike-and-Michelle!) But I promise you, there’s nobody else on that sex blog list who would make a better Queen of The Sex Bloggers….

Shoot Your Load!

Bacchus’ post on increased-ejaculate spam and concerns prompted a pleasant stroll down memory lane for me, with an interesting twist–I compared my experiences with various lovers, with the hope of coming up with something helpful from a female perspective. Don’t know that I’ve accomplished that, but I’ll still share my thoughts.

Bacchus is dead right that what goes on inside can be, er, hard to measure. But if a lady is tight enough, and paying sufficient attention, she can feel something that correlates, apparently, to the force of her partner’s ejaculation. At least I can….or could. (Not having a steady sex life, partner-wise, I’ve lost some muscle tone. :( ) I’m sure I’m not alone in having that ability.

Where it might become more of an issue is externally-oriented play, as some commenters focused on. While shooting a huge load is probably highly desirable for bukkake, and sometimes on other occasions, there are definitely times when a gal doesn’t want to have to be concerned about telltale white streaks on skin, clothing, or in her hair. (But then again, there are definitely times when it’s part of the lingering fun after sex to wonder if anybody can put the clues together and figure out that you’ve just had some naughty fun!)

Where I’ve noticed volume the most is in fellatio, no surprise there. I’ve had gushers and dribblers, and you know what? The amount of the ejaculate never seems directly tied to how much my partner seems to be enjoying himself. That’s even true for those male actors out there who like to give the impression that every sex act is the ultimate thrill, never to be topped [big yawn].

What really gets me off is knowing I’m getting him off–genuine pleasure, not the going-for-the-Oscar type stuff. The slow, subtle increase in muscle tension in his abs, thighs, and butt muscles…..the pelvic thrusts (if he’s in a position that allows ’em)….the changes in his breathing…especially the ragged breathing as he gets close to coming…oh my, is it getting warm in here? Hearing that breathing gets me going so much that I don’t care about load and velocity, I just want the explosion!!!

And last, I do enjoy giving prostate stimulation–only from the outside so far for me, no heavy-duty milking–to guys who aren’t hung up about being touched there. It seems to always add to the intensity of his orgasm, whether or not it increases his ejaculate. And if it’s better for him, it’s better for me! :D

Strange Sex Spam O’ The Day

Nobody expects very much from spam. But most of it makes at least a certain sort of sense. Bigger penis? Sure, there’s a market. Harder penis? Why not? Breast enlargements? Cheaper mortgages? Debt reduction? Fake Rolex watches? I probably know somebody who wants each of these things.

But an increased ejaculate volume? Who do I know that worries about their inability to make a big enough mess during sex? No, on second thought, don’t tell me.

This is an actual spam I just got, with editorial comments in brackets:

Has your cum ever dribbled and you wish it had shot out?

[Er, no. Or, I’m not sure about the dribbling. Usually I’m not looking; usually it’s in a warm moist place that I can’t see into. As for wishing it had shot out, why? This ain’t a peeing contest, boys. There are, so far as I know, no prizes for volume or velocity.]

Have you ever wanted to impress your girl with a huge cumshot?

[I’ve frequently wanted to impress my girl, yes. But is she impressed by a huge cumshot? Uh, Nymph? Is there something you haven’t been telling me? Is there in fact any woman in the whole freakin’ world who cares whether a cumshot is huge or not?]

[. . . . . sound of crickets . . . . . ]

[PRODUCT] is the only site to offer an all natural male enhancement
formula that is proven to increase your sperm volume by up to 500%.
Our highly potent, volume enhancing formula will give our results
in days and comes with an impressive 100% guarantee.

Imagine the difference (look and feel) between dribbling your cum
compared to shooting out burst after burst.

[The look? Where exactly is this wanker ejaculating? And exactly how little sensation is he getting from sex, that he’s worring about the feel of his ejaculation? Hello, you’re supposed to be in sensory overload just then!]

Try [PRODUCT] now! and with our money back guarantee you have absolutely nothing to lose!

[Riiiight — because taking pills with absolutely no information on what’s in them is never dangerous. “Your herbal poison eroded my heart valves, can I have my $19.99 back please?]

But seriously, folks, and all ridicule aside — is there anybody among my readers, male or female, who worries about the force and volume of male ejaculate? If so, please chime in with a comment and an explanation!

A Fitting Image

I’m still working out what I want to tell, and what’s best left locked away in my mind, from my recent escapades. Parts of the adventure were lots of fun (here’s a hint: some of my sexploration wishes have been fulfilled :D ), but other things were unexpected, and caused some tensions between R and me. Short form is, I think R and I have played out. But it was mostly good while it lasted, and it turned out to be very, very smart of me not to point him to this blog. That’s why the extended Aphrodite absence….I didn’t want any traces to here around for him to accidentally find.

Anyway, one of the places R and I went was on an awesome ski trip to the Great White North–Canada! It was highly amusing to find the image below tucked in my inbox when I got back:

According to the sweet friend who sent me the pic, the hair designer calls this the “Moose Look”. I ain’t never seen no moose that looks anything like this before…but she does seem to have a nice rack (if you can find it under all the blue fluff ;) ).

Someone asked me for “sex predictions” for 2005….given my recent experiences, plus the ongoing crusading crap from the U.S.’s current “leaders”, it makes me queasy to even think about what might be coming down the pike. :( Uhh, how about we just scroll back up to look at the Moose Girl again instead?

Remember Me?

Hi everyone! Didn’t mean to disappear from the world for as long as I did…but I think that turned out for the best. Got in yesterday from holiday-making with R, and am exhausted. There’s so much to tell, I don’t know where to begin…..or even if I should tell all. It was, um, intense in both good and bad ways. I think I should get another cup of coffee and more sleep before I try to say anything else about it all.

So for now, I’ll just say that I hope all of you had a happy solstice/Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa (did I leave anybody out?), and that your new year started with a bang. :hehe:

Fellatio Factory

OK, so I’ll grant that the costume is eye-catching; and sure, the little bit of (fake?) spooge at the edge of the mouth-hole earns realism points. If that’s really a tissue dispenser on the top of her head, I suppose there’s a certain gonzo panache to that, as well. But at the end of the day, all I can do is shake my head and wonder: “What was she thinking?” Or maybe: “Is that you, Charlotte Simmons?”

Picture found here on Little Midgets.

Happy Sexy New Year

It’s January 1, my head hurts just a smidge, but life is stunningly good. The Nymph and I spent last night drinking bad champagne and marvelling at how great a year 2004 was for us, and marvelling again at just how bright 2005 is looking. Today we’re going to nap and eat — there’s a big turkey in the house, and somebody else is cooking it. So not much blog for you today!

Still, I couldn’t leave you entirely in the lurch. Will some naked girl/girl wrestling see you through the weekend? Here’s hoping!

Thanks to Ultimate Surrender for the picture.