Your first post-Christmas consumer purchasing tip: Luv Linen. “Luv Linen is a super absorbent, waterproof, reusable, washable pad designed to keep your sheets, bed, furniture and wherever else you may be clean and dry during sex.” The sales copy is entertaining:

Luv Linen is unique because it provides protection and peace of mind for love’s messy moments. It gives you permission to enjoy the wettest sex ever and let your love flow without hesitation.

But the product actually looks practical and useful, notwithstanding the moist prose being used to sell it.

And now, back to business. The anonymous link contribution of the day: Tentacle Yaoi. And what is yaoi, you may ask? Indeed, you may:

What is yaoi? Yaoi is a woman’s genre of manga (comic books) and short stories, produced by female artists and writers for the enjoyment of female readers. It’s a fantasy form which focuses on the romantic, emotional and above all sexual relationships of guys together.

Huh? That’s right. M/M. Men in Love. Homosexuality, homoeroticism, platonic love. Whatever you want to call it. Two Guys.

So it’s gay porn for women? Nope. It’s a female fantasy of what’s sexually attractive, not a gay male one. Yaoi embodies the (surprisingly common) female notion that m/m relationships are the stuff of high romance and beauty and true love and angst and impossibly wonderful sex five times an hour. Not surprisingly, yaoi gives real gay men the giggles.

For a start, the first requirement is that all the men be better-looking than any real man can possibly be, like the heroes of Japanese cartoon series (anime). The relationships are given a highly romantic slant that appeals to a lot of women, but rarely to men. Yaoi emphasizes the emotional side of things as much as the physical, and the stories happen in a very unrealistic version of the real world. Yaoi men tend to have impossible anatomy and very unlikely psychology. Silver hair, purple eyes, and a tendency to self-mutilation as an expression of love are not uncommon.

I learn something new every day. Who knew this sex blogging business would turn out to be such a tremendous broadener of the mind?

And how! Yesterday while we are on the phone, suddenly she says “Ow! Hey! It’s stuck! Ow! I hurt my hand trying to pull it off!”

“What’s stuck? What’s wrong?”

“The chain! The chain from your present! I was playing with it, and somehow it got around my right wrist, and now the lock’s closed and it’s stuck!”

(This is technically known as the “Doctor, I don’t know how that got in there, I was holding it in my hand and then I slipped in the shower and fell on it” explanation.)

Of course I’m laughing so hard my teeth hurt. Also, I’m thinking fast. “Do you remember the combination?”

“No!” (This turns out, sadly, not to be true.)

I quickly tell her a combination. One digit removed from the actual. Visions of saying “Oh, gosh, you must have reset the combination while you were playing, now you’ll have to try all ten thousand with your left hand while I tease encourage you” begin to dance in my head. I envision hours of high quality family fun.

Alas, she was not listening to my misinformation.

“Oh, there it is! I got it off. Gosh, I was getting worried there for a minute. Good thing I remembered the… HEY! You gave me the wrong combination!!!”

God, that was fun.

But the real fun of the day was her confirming her tickets. January 10. Best Christmas present ever. Cannot wait.

No, not unwrapping her, you horndogs, not yet anyway; that’s still on track for a much-anticipated day in January. Move along now, nothing to see here. Geez!

No, after Christmas Eve celebrations with family, I called to give her the combination to her tamper-resistant present. I’m sure the tender scene looked something like this:

Then I opened my present from her, and began to pull out…wait for it…socks. Yes, socks. I believe she will need a spanking for that. That, or I’ll have to start teasing her by calling her “Grandma”. Which do you suppose she’d prefer?

Although they are, in fact, very nice socks.

Fortunately, the socks were only packing material for a very nice bottle of usquebaugh, so I got a good laugh and then had a delicious drink. Thus was a good time had by all, and the merriest of Christmas Eves for me in many a year.

As for that other unwrapping: the wait is killing me.

It’s Christmas morning, snow is falling outside my window, and my thoughts are as pure as ever:

No, really…he’s coming!

Thanks to Attu for the link.

Sarah at Submissive Reflections has some pertinent observations on relationships, wrapped up in an ironic anecdote. There’s more than this long quote, so read it all.

Christine’s husband, Dan, arrived and he kissed her and she fended him off, complaining about her makeup, he told her she looked beautiful and she told him not to be so silly. She complained about him being late and that everyone had had to wait for him, even though we were all still waiting on Mac. Dan mumbled an apology and stood off to his wife’s side like a chastised child.

Mac walked in a good ten minutes later, greeting everyone noisily and asking what they were waiting for. He put his hands on my waist, kissed my lips and told me I looked delicious. I grinned up at Him and said thankyou. I was wearing the dress He had suggested, a short black dress. I had added stockings, high heels and hadn’t bothered with panties. Mac knew without me having to tell Him. He boomed out an apology for being late and grabbed my hand and led everyone to the table. He made sure I was sitting beside Him.

I watched as Dan trailed along behind his wife and as she told him where to sit. Menus arrived and while everyone was reading Christine announced loudly to Dan that he had better not order anything to fattening, he had to watch his weight. She continued through the meal to make fun of Dan’s receding hair line, tell everyone he had not gotten the recent promotion that he had applied for which is why they couldn’t afford a new car and generally put him down every chance she got. I felt so sad for him but he didn’t react to it at all.

Mac was His usual boisterous self. He had the whole table in tears laughing at stories about Christmas at His parent’s house, keeping everyone entertained. His hand kept sneaking under the table and up my skirt to feel how wet I was, which of course only made me wetter. My hand kept sneaking under the table to feel how hard He was, which of course only made Him stay hard. He kept leaning into my ear to whisper wicked things about where He wanted His cock and I kept whispering back about what I would do to His cock when it was there. W/we were keeping each other close to the edge of orgasm.

After dinner I excused myself to go to the bathroom and Christine came with me. She was touching up her makeup when I went to wash my hands and she told me how lucky I was to have Mac, as He was so male. It was all I could do to bite my lip so I didn’t tell her that maybe Dan would be more male if she stopped treating him like a child. I just smiled and went back to the table and kissed Mac’s cheek.
…
I wish I could say that Christine and Dan are the only couple I know like this, but they are not. I see it often enough for it to bother me. You don’t have to be submissive to show your partner respect. You don’t need to lower your eyes or be a sexual slave to accept the gift of their compliments graciously and show them that you care about them.

You could swap the genders (and discount Sarah’s submissive perspective, if it bothered you) and this would still be wisdom.