May 2nd, 2006 -- by Bacchus
It’s news to no one that the female orgasm can sometimes be a slippery and elusive critter. Kaya finds it’s easiest to catch one when she uses her nipple clamps:
Every once in awhile, orgasm eludes me, even with my pocket rockets, the hitchi and my imagination. I’ll be deep into a fantasy, humming along industriously and all of sudden, 10 or 20 minutes have passed and I’ll realize I’m contemplating the next American Idol cut. Or planning next week’s menu. So I mentally shake myself, refocus my head back to cages and whips and cocks….. and “wake up” some 10 or 20 minutes later designing my dream house.
Now, I don’t give up on an orgasm. That’s a road of despair that I am not willing to travel just yet. Seriously, it starts with just one. One time, you lay the vibe down and decide you just can’t cum tonight. Then it’s twice. Pretty soon, cobwebs and moths have taken up roost in your cootchie. No. Nuh uh. Not me. If I start it, I will finish it. And trust me when I say I’ve battled it a time or two. Stinky, sweating, cramped legs and arms and fingers and a sore, battered clit. But I won. My clit waved the white flag and spit out a pathetic little orgasm because I.will.not.be.defeated.
That’s bothered me a time or two. That seems an unhealthy obsession in the light of day. But let’s not go there, ok? :P
My most favored way of grasping a wayward orgasm is nipple torture. It amazes me how quickly I can cum once I start seriously hurting my nips. Because it’s so easy, I don’t do it every night. I don’t want to ruin that. I love it too much. (The marathon battles mentioned above would not take as long if I’d get my lazy ass out of bed and get the clamps out the toy box.)
I like when I get into a place where I just can’t hurt them enough. A clamp doesn’t cut it. Several clamps might. And then only if they are pulled off numerous times and reapplied. Twisted and yanked and pulled. When it’s really good, I don’t even need the vibe. Once the pain gets high enough, sharp enough, all I’ve got to do is touch my finger to my clit and I pop.
One of those mind-blowing orgasms that stretch out forever… and leave your mouth gaping open and your eyes crossed for awhile.
May 1st, 2006 -- by Bacchus
As part of an ode to post-sex summer-evening scooter-driving, Steph offers a parenthetical solution to the road rage problem:
Road rage is all because people aren?t having sex enough. C’mon, people! Spread the sex around. Let’s reclaim our streets. Nice, happy drivers who just couldn’t give a shit if you go faster. They’re thinking about getting a little more of the shaggin’ they just had. A far better traffic pattern would emerge, I bet.
April 30th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
You never know for sure, but this spectacular exemplar of the “girls kissing” photo genre looks candid and unposed to me:
Similar Sex Blogging:
April 29th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
“Watch the game? No, I don’t think you’ll be watching the game tonight.”
April 28th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
They don’t make architecture like they used to.
When I saw this photo (courtesy of Matt from The Secret Life of Librarygirl) I was struck (not literally, that would hurt) by the, er, emphatic size of the stone breasts on this gryphonesque mishmash creature:
Apparently this is a detail from the interior decoration at the Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles.
April 27th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
There’s more than one way to deal with an intrusive homeowner’s association (or, for that matter, with a husband who likes to spank):
The homeowners association sent me a letter… someone complained that my Rotts, Tank and Panda, were embarrassing them by making whoopee in the backyard in the middle of the day. Excuse me? I have a 7-foot wooden fence around the backyard. What was that person doing standing on a ladder peeking in?
“SAR!”
SWAT!
Tsk.
“And don’t tell them what we often do in the backyard in warmer weather.”
I wrote back that they should peek in around 7 p.m. when the giant squid and I are in the backyard and in the gazebo sharing a glass of wine. Sometimes we make whoopee out there. It would make for a better show. Tsk.
“SAR!”
SWAT!
Double Tsk.
From Pieces.
April 27th, 2006 -- by Aphrodite
Aphrodite blogs:
My weekend was terrific. It was the first time I stayed over at J’s house. Most of the soon to be ex’s stuff was gone, so that was okay. The best parts were all the tulips he bought, he put them in just about every room in the house and they were gorgeous….and the sex.
J is more playful than I thought. After dinner I thought he’d want to go right to bed, but he put on some music in the living room and we sat and drank more wine and talked. The music was great, sexy but not too pushy….and as we got warmed up, he asked me to strip for him. I got up to start…..and noticed the huge window with only a sheer curtain covering it. He noticed my glance and just grinned and nodded. Did I mention that his house is on the main highway just barely out of town? Almost everybody that comes and goes from town uses that road. I started to sit back down and then I realized that he was asking for his idea of adding spice to our sex. It wasn’t what I was thinking of, but that shouldn’t stop me….
So I did it. At first I was a little embarassed, but the music and the buzz from the wine and his huge smile got me into it. So did thinking about how many people might see part of the show I was putting on! I danced and teased and got totally into it…..and so did J. We ended up making love there too. I had turned around and was wiggling my ass at him and he stood up and pulled off his pants. He bent me over a chair and filled me in one slow thrust. It didn’t take much more for me to come and he wasn’t far behind. I had forgotten all about the window…..but seeing headlights swoop by reminded me that we both had just put on a show…..and that got me hot again. So yeah, we did an encore too.
