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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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?”