Ah, the simple pleasures.

I may incur Bacchus’ wrath with this post; and it may be construed as endorsing an activity I cannot recommend to anyone, but this whole idea is just too wacky to me to resist.

I found this interesting site: Votergasm. The idea is that people pledge to vote, and hook up with other Votergasm members on election day, after voting. (It’s the voting I don’t recommend, not the sex, of course! :P)

Sex is certainly a powerful incentive for lots of people, but this has me scratching my head. Mixing up something that can be as healthy and happy as sex with something that’s almost always dirty — politics — just doesn’t seem like a good idea. What would happen if two hotties hook up, then discover one went for ass, while the other prefers trunk? Oh, the humanity! :confused:

If you must discuss, please remember Bacchus’ rules for politeness.

Everybody does it from time to time … solo sex, that is. So what’s the big deal? Masturbating’s a good way of dealing with unmet sexual needs, whether a person is single or not, I’ve always thought.

Turns out some folks, like The Good Wife, may have good reason for seeing red. Almost a month later, she’s still thinking about being denied the pleasure of her husband’s company. She’s bothered enough to ask for reader feedback on whether a sweetie’s solo sex bothers them. I guess I’m lucky that I’ve never had a guy go on a sex-as-power trip with me yet. But it’s sad, sad, sad that so many people — men and women — get such rides.

Oh, yes, before I forget, there is one positive element to The Good Wife’s recent “questionnaire” — it’s a yummy image atop the post. Madeja look! :laugh:

…and Violet Blue has proof! Seems she was out on the prowl in San Franscisco:

And while I was one of three women in an all-leatherdaddy gay bar, I got my ass grabbed! Hornboy was getting us drinks and I felt a hand slide across one cheek, and pause for a little fondle on the other. I thought, now I’m wearing a dress, and obviously a girl, so someone can’t be making a mistake. And I don’t know anyone here… and normally, this action would cause a reaction from me, such as an elbow-check to the stranger’s stomach, or a quick spin around with a deflection. But it was a leather bar full of the gayest men imaginable… so I turned, and met eyes with a handsome leatherdaddy — who smiled and sort of shrugged, as if to say, “well… it was there…”

I forgot it was the Labor Day weekend! I’ve been busy the past few days getting the place squared away before fall’s chill begins kissing the land — it happens early where I live. I also took the opportunity to freshen up my bedroom. I painted it a deep blushing-pink almost-red shade, and it’s gorgeous. It looks like a spectacular sunset all the time (and when the sun does come into my room, in the late afternoon and evening, it’s all the more dazzling).

Seeing the paint going on and drying, and being even prettier than I had hoped when I selected the shade, got me thinking about what an even nicer love-making nest this room will be in its new color scheme. And that got me to thinking back on past good times … and the best time I’ve had, sexually speaking, so far.

The guy wasn’t a great love of my life; I can’t even really say that we were boyfriend and girlfriend. He was in a college class with me. One night I saw him at a bar, and he was the only guy I knew there so I started talking to him. We hooked up that night, and it was pretty good … but that’s all.

We got together occasionally, but our schedules never really lined up well to get together a lot. As it happened, our last time, toward the end of the semester, was far and away the best sex of my life …J and I always had fun together, joking and laughing, even during sex sometimes. I told him after class one day that I always seemed to have thoughts running through my head — not just consciousness of what I was doing, but “word-based stuff” in my head. I’d tried meditation to help clear my mind and focus it, but it hadn’t succeeded. That was hard for him to understand, and he declared he was making a project of helping me clear my mind. For weeks afterward, he’d do silly things to try to jolt my brain out of thinking. Nothing worked, but it was fun anyway.

On an early December Friday night, I was getting stressed out by projects and upcoming exams, and decided to go for a walk. My college town was small, and a short walk from the edge of campus was all it took to get to the farmers’ fields that surrounded the town. A half moon grinned through platinum ribbons of high cloud; a few corn canes clattered in the occasional push of chill air. My pace was slow as I soaked in the quiet and cold, both soothing my mind.

Having gone about a mile down the road, I was surprised to hear footsteps behind me — not hurried ones, but deliberate and measured, like mine. Glancing back, I recognized the gait as J’s, and slowed to allow him to catch up, if he wanted.

He did. We walked for a bit in amiable silence. Finally he murmured, “Getting away from it all too, huh?”, and I nodded. We approached one of my favorite spots on this walk — a small stand of trees that huddled together, cornered by a small stream and ancient fencing. J inclined his head, and I easily leapt a low spot in the barbed wire, the spot he’d indicated being one I frequented as well.

We lay on the ground, which was not yet as cold as the air. Even so, I was thankful for the long coat I’d chosen. J’s kiss was an intoxicating mix of cold lips and nose pressing to my face, and warm, sweet breath. My body responded immediately, its sensual desires having gone unfulfilled for weeks.

Rather than indulge those desires, J acted as if he hadn’t noticed. He returned to star-gazing.

I cuddled closer, pressing my breasts against his arm, thinking that would send an unmistakable signal.

Nothing from J.

What the fuck?! I thought. J had never been slow or shy before, so his lack of response was a total surprise. I decided to display my interest in a more obvious way.

Leaning over to return his kiss with a more ardent one, I swung a leg over his body and pressed close, feeling J’s erection. As he opened his lips slightly, I gyrated against him, tongue and pelvis matching rhythm. As the kiss ended, J reached up, gently stroked my hair, then firmly grasped my shoulder and pushed me down, reversing our positions.

Ignoring my hunger or oblivious to it, J langorously slid his fingers down my skin, unbuttoning my shirt and allowing the cold to sweep over my skin. My nipples, already taut, crinkled further, then even more as one received the warm attentions of his tongue, the other teasing flicks from his cold fingers. A long sigh of release and desire escaped my lips.

My attempt to return the favor was rebuffed; J gently but firmly pushed my hands down, then unbuttoned his shirt himself. The warmth of his chest against mine was brief, as J slid down to kiss and caress my breasts again. His other hand glided over my belly to unbutton my jeans.

Still impatient with his pace, I moved to help him pull my jeans down. Wordlessly, J again spurned my action and slowly pushed them down, leaving them as an awkward but effective restraint around my ankles. Finally understanding that J would only proceed as he liked and at the pace he wanted, I lay back and contented myself with teasing his nipples and seeing his growing excitement.

After what seemed an eternity of slow, tender kissing and stroking heightened by the contrast of chill air and warm skin, J removed his jeans and prepared to enter me. I was so wet I could have taken him all in one thrust, but his unhurried pace continued. I began to rock my hips in anticipation of the orgasm building within me, but J pulled out.

Understanding immediately, I ceased my motion, and after an agonizing delay he entered me again.

J’s uncharacteristic slowness focused my full attention on every movement, every touch. Slowly in, not quite fully, then slowly out … all the way out? No, thank god … and again … again … The caress of his hair on my cheek as he bent to kiss me, never altering his rhythm …

I felt suspended in near-rapture, perpetually on the edge of orgasm. Then a slight increase in J’s pace and erection signaled his impending orgasm, tumbling me over the edge in a slow-motion release. His full thrust into me as he came sent me off again … every nerve seemed to transmit my shuddering release. J blanketed me, holding me close as our orgasms finally subsided.

It wasn’t until long afterward, when we were walking back to campus, that I realized J had at last reached his goal of completely clearing my mind of words. Unfortunately, I never told him … and even more unfortunately for me, no other lover has come close to matching that amazing night with J.

So I ask you: Just exactly how stoned does a young woman have to get, before “I know, I’ll just put on two strips of duct tape and go to the party” begins to sound like a good idea?

It actually is sort of fetching, in an alternachick lost-at-strip-poker kind of way.

Hello, everyone! This is The Nymph with my very first post. I’ve been a little slow to get with the program but here goes nothing.

First of all, I’m not going to be posting a lot of pics or links – mainly because I don’t have a lot of either of those. My style is more of a talkative one. You can expect to read more about what’s going on with Bacchus and me. We have a lot of fun and I don’t mind sharing with friends, so come into our grove, pick out a comfy spot, and let me pour you a glass of wine before I get started.

It’s been six months since I moved in with him, and it’s only getting better. Can you believe he remembered our six month anniversary? That earned him BJ points like he never expected! Or did he? Doesn’t matter, he still earned them – and I’m happy to make sure he cashes them in. Yum!

Did I mention we have fun?

I honestly don’t understand the women who think giving a blow job to the man they love isn’t fun. I love it! Honestly, I do. It’s amazing getting that close and personal with his most erogenous parts and having him respond like he does. I love making him feel good in that special way. It’s a strange combination of power and submission when I have him in my mouth. The power to control his pleasure and submission I show by giving him that pleasure unselfishly. Mmmm it makes my mouth water just thinking about it!

I think that might be enough “sharing” for now…and before I embarrass Bacchus too much!