Monday Lull.

To say that the last few days have been stressful doesn't even begin to hint at it. Thankfully the worst is over and things are settling down again. Technically, at least.

Oh I don't know. I'm still feeling unhappy and so unbelievably tired of all the struggle. Seems there's loneliness and death everywhere, and life feels full of obligation and little joy.

And I don't have internet access these days to email or blog, and that is not helping my state of mind. Today, I hate everything about everything. I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm writing for. Probably I just need to eat a sandwich. Also, it's Monday and the Lord madeth Mondays to suck.

Sugasm #19

The best of the blogs by the bloggers who blog them, this week starting with the letter ‘V’.

• Virgins. (domequeen.blogspot.com…)


• A Conversation? (alwaysarousedgirl.blogspot.com…)


• Anal Cream Pie to go (theholidaylife.blogspot.com…)


• A Night Off! (whatsyourpleasure.blogspot.com…)


• Anita Dark (sugarbank.com…)


• BadAss Valentines Day Sale + Free Shipping on Paddles & Floggers (tirepaddle.com…)


• CockBlogging Wednesday 14 / Reader Question (shayssexcolumn.blogspot.com…)


• Disrobics (sugarpit.com…)


• Furniture babes (sexblo.gs)


• Haircut and Fuck (bikersballsandteacherstits.blogspot.com…)


• His name was Levi (whatsexmaycome.blogspot.com…)


• How it might continue… (emergingontheotherside.blogspot.com…)


• I. Cloud City (nakedloftparty.com…)


• Indecent Exposure? (deltaofvenus.blogspot.com…


• I Want (swelteringcelt.com…)


• I was like this… (damnjezebel.com…)


• Jane’s first time wasn’t with Dick. (janeluvsdick.com…)


• KITKAST 1.13 - AVN 2/2, French Maid TV and Colombian Condom Laws (kitkast.com…)


• Leashed (talkingdirty.blogspot.com…)


• Marion, Lea and Dianne orgy Sapphic Erotica (simply-sapphicerotica.com…)


• New Featured Gallery (seska4lovers.com…)


• …more Sugasm #19

Join the Sugasm

The System Is Down.

Due to a major project and domestic circumstances, I'll be in and out of contact for the next few days, maybe up to a week. It all depends on how quickly the new system gets up and running.

Posts I'm thinking about when I return:

Popping the cherry of my friend's little brother.
or
Watching a man masturbate while I dirty talk.

But by God, all I can think about today is the feel of him behind me, biting, kissing, licking my neck. It's all I need to get hot and wet. Maybe I'll write about that.

Talk to you soon, bloggy bloggers.

Laundry Update

Per the post below this:

Found two $5 bills: Strike!

Had to dress in only clothing that is clean (like this): Gutterball.

Where Am I?

I was driving alone, musing, by myself. Walking by was a mother and child all bundled up in a stroller, for it's a cold one today around here. I remembered that I still don't have warm snow boots for my son, and in fact, sent him to school in sneakers. Now, this is no great crime, but then I also remembered that he doesn't have gloves or mittens that fit. He is just a little fellow and will play in the cold until his fingernails turn black. I'm supposed to be looking out for him.

Where am I?

I'm not taking care only of every whim I have. No, that's an exaggeration. I'm quite dutiful and responsible. What I am, however, is tuned out. I spend money as I please simply because I can, because it's there. I ignore the mail. I owe people letters and calls. I don't exercise or do yoga or sit down with a good book.

I have no balance. I'm either compulsively responsible or egregiously remiss. I indulge pretty much every whim, claiming 'This is what I need right now.' I'm not really talking about sex or men. I'm talking about bad habits like overspending, ignoring needy family members, watching tv. I just feel indulgent and lazy, as though I think like a child these days.

I don't specifically want to clean more or pay more bills; I just want to feel like I'm dealing with what needs dealing with. And I don't. So here I go to tackle the laundry.

Pffffffttttt.

I had a hot conversation the other night while away from the house. Talking about what we'd done, what we get into. He got all riled up. I got all riled up. I thought there would be no way I'd get to sleep without getting myself off (involving husband? eeeeeewwww).

But then I went home and talked to husband, shut down the house, and basically remembered that orgasm these days is a lot of manual work. Staying up after husband so I could writhe around on the couch seemed like way too much effort for a body tired like mine. I took a hot shower but that kind of fell flat. I just went to bed.

Dammit! I had such a good vibe going and it was wasted...and I let it go. I hope I'm not forfeiting on orgasm since I can't roll around with the person I want. How sad is that?

Guest Author: PLD by Lady L

I'm posting this, with permission, from The Secret Brain, written by Lady L. Couldn't have said it better myself.
******

What is PLD? It is the most painful afflication I has ever suffered. Are you curious?

Post Lover Depression. Have you felt it? You would know it if you had. It surfaces minutes before you part ways with your lover after a night in the throes of passion. You and your lover are sent packing into the cold reality of a miserable marriage, dirty dishes, unfinished work and sometimes a fight for being gone for so long.

I am suffering from it right now. Another night of making love (this includes HSMJS), laughing, sucking cock, Art eating my pussy and just plain old enjoying each other's company comes to an end. Back to work, back home, back where ever just not with each other and it sucks ass.

It gets even worse the next day. After a night of restful sleep dreaming sweet dreams of multiple orgasms and cuddling you are startled awake by your spouse's snoring or the dreaded alarm clock. You find yourself on the outtermost edge of the bed, as far away from your spouse as you can get with a pillow in your arms. How depressing.

Early on Art and I told each other that it would get easier as time went on. Just the opposite actually. The closer we get, the more time we spend together the less time we want to spend a part or worse with our respective spouses.

The cure? Nothing to do but suffer through it right now. Knowing that we will have another day or night of pleasure and love and that this cycle will continue until we get those real world lives straightened out and we can move our world into that real world. The one comfort and the most important thing in my opinion is that the more time we spend together the more certain we become of our decisions, our feelings. Every day loving each other a little more.

Fidelity.

At the beginning of my marriage I thought that I would never cheat on my husband.

-ahem.-

It's still not something I want to embrace, to permit myself to do. Once upon a time there were conversations and efforts to avoid perilous situations. Then I forfeited. I admitted this was a thing in my life, that I needed Another Man. Time passed, and it became less about necessity and more about want. I wanted to be with him. Now I feel more fidelity toward Another Man so that I actively and successfully avoid marital sex. (Another simple component is that I hate it with with husband, but I've already discussed that.)

What movie was it: "You mean to say that you won't have sex with your wife because you'd be cheating on your girlfriend?"

Anyway, I know that other opportunities will arise. I've mentioned one in a much earlier post, an Old Friend who's gotten in touch with clearly libidinous intentions. I don't want to cheat, but again, not for the usual reasons. For one, I know that a sexual affair is not the same as a love affair, and the former doesn't appeal to me. Also, it would really hurt Another Man, so I could never tell him. That would be the worst part; I couldn't bear to hide something from AM. This is someone from whom I've hidden nothing of myself. AM knows all my secrets.

Don't you think there has to be one person in the world who knows all your truths?

This has nothing to do with integrity or doing the right thing. I wish I were so strong. I have to turn down this proposition. I may tell my husband about the situation so he can help me stay away from this Old Friend. You know, I keep calling him my friend, but when he's written to me, he has little regard for my state of being. Just wants to know if I'm still interested in him. We were fairly good lovers once, but I never got the sense that he loved me as his friend. He really has nothing to offer me except sex.

I'm just afraid that I'll be so desperately lonely that that will be enough.

Virgins.

Inspired by a recent conversation:

I want to be a virgin again. Not truly like the first time, though.

The first time, he was my boyfriend of a few months in high school. He wasn't a virgin. Italian type. I liked the idea of sex more than doing it and enjoyed it that way. Physically, it sure hurt. He was adequately kind, patient, slow. But still a teenager himself, so not particularly skilled or thoughtful.

I'd love to go through it again. Wouldn't it be fun, with someone who knew everything? I'd like to meet him at a bar, as we often do, and have a little date. I'd wear something demure but cute, kind of a high-schooler's idea of dressed up. That is, the kind of high-schooler I was: brainy dorky cute type. Not the slutty look of High School 2006.

I'd play a little shy. He'd know tonight would be the night the virgin would let him, finally. He'd play it excited but respectful. Even just sitting there, he would tenderly touch my hair or my arm.

When we were finally alone, we'd begin to make out, rolling around in our clothes. Grinding against each other like kids. Undressing wouldn't be the big deal until we were both down to our underwear. I'd be excited but hesitant. Curious but certainly unpracticed. I'd be enboldened by desire but still shy. I'd touch and look at him with wonder, as though I hadn't seen it many times before. I would be interested in taking his cock in my mouth, but uncertain how. He'd have to talk me through it. Maybe he'd come too quickly like a boy and we'd have to start over. Probably not. He'd push me back on the bed and slide his face down between my legs. I'd protest, feeling modest. He'd come back up to my face to kiss and reassure me. I'd try to relax, as he asked. He begins to slowly lick me and I'm breathless with the surprise of it. He won't do it for long; he doesn't want to overdo it this first time, for me to get too sensitive.

Finally his face is in front of mine. He's on top of me. He kisses my face, my eyes, my mouth, and asks again if I'm sure this is what I want. Am I ready? I nod yes. He doesn't move his eyes away from mine as he pushes my legs apart with his knees. Very slowly he touches his penis to me and slides up and down. I open my mouth to breathe heavier. I can feel the tip of him push gently against my pussy, then more insistently. He won't enter me quickly. Centimeter by centimeter he eases in. I feel myself relax and take him. He pauses and asks if I'm ok. I nod yes. Slowly he draws back out and pushes back in. Very, very slowly. I'm not responding yet, still getting used to it. Sure you're ok? he asks. Yes, I say, keep going. I begin to warm up. I push a little against him. I can feel his building excitement. I reach up to push my hands against the headboard to brace myself. He smiles and moves a little more fluidly, in and out. His breathing quickens. Now I let go of my virginal reserve and truly start to whorishly fuck him back, right there with him. Slow, grinding, deep. I grin and grip his ass. He asks if it's good. I nod yes. When he strokes himself in and out of me quicker and lighter, I feel the orgasm build. He's tagging all my good spots over and over. I feel myself shudder and gasp with it. Don't stop, I tell him. He won't. He's close, I think, by the intense concentration, almost wincing look on his face. We're there together, bucking against each other as we come. I feel my scalp tingle and a current zaps from head to toe, fingertip to fingertip. He collapses on me and pauses. We're frozen for a moment this way, overcome. He raises his head and kisses me lightly all over my face. 'Thank you', he says. 'Thank you. I'm so glad. I'm so grateful.'

So am I.

Update: The Longest Hour

Dinner to fix, not feeling well, too much to do!

But....

....it didn't work out quite as I anticipated. There was some lite fucking. Then coffee table head, then to the bed to continue and finish as planned.

An hour overall; he and I figured about 40 minutes of non-stop lip service. Hey, what can a girl do? Neither of us wanted him to wait any longer.

The Longest Hour

When I see him next, this is what I'm going to do:

Tell him to undress completely. Pull the covers down off the bed and arrange the pillows at the headboard. Tell him to prop himself up sitting against it. I will remain fully clothed. I will make note of the time.

Sixty minutes later, I will let him come.

I'll bend my mouth to his cock. I will lick, stroke, and tease him. I'll cup his balls with my hands and my mouth. Maybe I'll turn him over and lick his ass, because it drives him wild. I'll tell him to say I'm the best of his life. He must say he'll fuck me whenever I want, wherever I want. I will make him whimper. I'll make him beg to the point of plaintive whining. He'll try to thrust against my face but I won't let him. I'm in charge. He'll be deep in my throat, then teased only by my lips.

Much as I'll want to, I won't give in and fuck him. He can have my mouth and that's it. I'm hungry to swallow his load and nothing else will satisfy me. But he's going to have to earn it.

You, My Beloved Audience

Ok, finally to what I've been working out in my brain.

Blogging has been great as relief, creative outlet, catharsis. Just to shoot stuff into the great void of the internet, or the world, is invaluable. To know that someone, anyone out there knows. Then I started getting comments, and I found an entire company of empathetic, or at least sympathetic ears, and almost entirely encouraging. This is reciprocal in its benefit: we're all out there slogging through together. I love hearing from you and responding.

It didn't occur to me, though, that I could actually affect positive change for someone. What a surprising and pleasing thing! Thank you for passing this on to me.

I do find, more and more, that I'm conscious of how frequently I'm posting, and if it's compelling reading. Like, when was the last time I posted something hot and do people think I'm overdue? Notice I say 'posting' and not 'writing;' the difference between the public and private activities. Posting for you vs. writing for me. This is not my favorite way to think.

I do want this to stay interesting and mixed-up. Right now is a tough spell for me, so I may be more frequently introspective. Some of you may be bored or disappointed, but I think I may know the answer to this one: Suck It.

;)

Well anyway, it's just going to be what it's going to be. Everyone out there seems cool with things so far, so this all probably irrelevant drivel.

Oh, here's the only rule about comments: if you write something hateful directed at me or any other person commenting, I will, without pause, delete it.

Thanks, everyone.

Morning Rant

Have another post in mind but it will wait until more time, maybe this afternoon.

Last night I told Husband that I really needed to sleep, and took something to knock me out. If the boy fusses, I said, he's on duty. I conked out until about 1:30 when the boy's yelling (he's been sick) woke me from a perfect sleep. I then woke up Husband, who was no use. The boy was fully awake by then and wanted only me. So I spent an hour soothing him, medicine, etc etc, until I could finally go to sleep.

Woke up angry and tired, to a day I was already dreading. Then bad news from a friend about her family.

Really f'ing sick of this life and want it to change. Or at least, to get away from these crazy people for a little while! More later.

State of the Union: How Bad Is Bad

So I say that sex with my husband is bad. He's a terrible lover. What, supposedly, does that mean?

Here are the generalities: He makes little to no noise. He lacks authority; there's no surety or command to his movements. He lacks either confidence or experience to let himself go into passion. Often his attentions are boyish. He uses affected voices when he tries to say something sexy. He absolutely does not know how to dominate the situation.

Here are specifics: He fumbles around. He tried to give me a spank once and it was like a pat so I tried to have a spanking workshop with him. His first try was a real whack; workshop over.

Another typical example: I was hot and ready, bending all my will toward having successful sex. I was on my hands and knees and he had no idea how to enter me from behind. He kind of fumbled around, trying to jam himself somewhere without aim or using his hands to spread me apart. So I had to try to balance on one hand and try to point things out to him. Didn't work. Did a face plant. He's still trying just to poke around and said 'I can't see what I'm doing.' Well, neither could I, obviously. Hey asshole, aim for the soft, wet, open part you can feel. Can't you tell by touch? It's like this everytime we try something this basic. God, just writing about it makes me hate him.

For about a year I tried to talk to him about his lack of a typically masculine sex drive. Like, he just didn't seem to have much of a need for sex. I always felt that guys are a little more animalistic in their need. So when he didn't exhibit any of that toward me, I took it personally. As in, guys inherently want sex, but I turn that instinct off, I guess. During these conversations, he would say he was just easily distracted by fatigue, chores, our son, and television. Television? Are you fucking kidding me? You forget to fuck your wife because you got wrapped up in a tv show? Well, I've already written about this in the past here. The upshot is that now that he has more of an interest, I learned to shut the door on it a while ago. Plus I have a petty and vindictive nature. Oh now I'm supposed to want it because he choses to? As though I'm constantly subject to his whim. B.u.l.l.s.h.i.t.

Believe me when I say that I have been patient, understanding, and encouraging. But I don't even want to try anymore. I'm too old for this; we've been together for too long. I don't want to teach a man how to fuck. Wasn't that what the twenties were for? So it's not just the practice, but the principle. I avoid sex at all costs, making excuses left and right. I've actually asked him if he enjoys sex much; he just doesn't seem to find much joy in it. He likes it, but he doesn't love it. And how can I love it when I'm being fed so little?

It doesn't help that I know how it can be with someone. Husband definitely suffers by comparison. A former lover said 'You and husband need to get going what you and I had.' I had to fight off tears because my husband will never have that nature: sexual, masculine, knowing, confident. It's not just experience. It's how you embrace being sexual, and he doesn't. I never feel so asexual as when I'm with him. I think this compounds my DoMe Queen persona: I look to be desired by every other man. I want to be wanted, beyond measure, beyond reason.

I don't know where I'll get by saying all this. There are more important problems in our marriage that I'll talk about another time. But this is a big one; thought you should know where I'm coming from. Or not, as the case may be ;)

Sugasm

The best of the blogs. Check 'em out. Maybe you'll meet a new friend!
Also, see sugarbank.com to contribute next week.

Lips Are Sealed

If you haven't already, check out the link to Sealed Are My Lips. The photo is h-o-t.

Where Do I Start?

I've never had a sex toy. Well, one that I've used. My husband order a lifelike dildo for me, but I can tell you its verisimilitude was unnerving. Stayed in the box then got donated to Catholic Charities hahahaha.

I'm on a pill that makes orgasm more difficult. When it hits, oh baby. They roll on and on.

But the other night I nearly sprained my wrist. I think I need to drop some cash on equipment. Where do I start? Something simple and effective. What do you think?

A Tribute

We have fabulous dates. We look at art, listen to music, drink beer. You held my hand in the dark of the concert hall, bought me champagne at intermission, and admired my fancy shoes. You unlock the car for me. You taught me what is great about a certain line in a painting, the physical genius of it. You pointed out a particularly fine sculpted ass. We've eaten oysters and sucked the brine off each other's tongues while people stared. You hold the door for me.

You cook weird and wonderful foods. When you slice fruit, you fan it out to make it look pretty on my plate. You taught me that lots of sugar makes coffee good.

You're handsome. Your hair is soft to touch. I always want to caress your scars. Your chest is good and hairy but your arms are not. Your hands are beautiful. You don't bite your nails anymore. I love your tight ass. I can see your muscles move as you walk or fuck. You move with grace.

You have funny habits and peccadillos. You're flawed and weird and sometimes I laugh at you. There are issues. Don't even get me started about your pet. And clean out your car!

You're powerful and strong. You move my body with authority. Your kindness is overwhelming as you bow to my wishes. There is nothing concealed; you asked for what you wanted, so now I know without you speaking. You are in equal measure selfish and selfless, taking what you want and giving without asking. Your passion is relentless. I'm breathless with the anticipation of you and what we are together.

You make me laugh and you make me think. You love every part of my body, zealously. You are a loyal friend.

To say that I will miss you. . .

...this is the part I don't have words for.

Head Case

I remember my first kiss, the first time I got drunk, the first time I had sex. I don't remember the first time I gave head.

I remember being 16 years old and practicing at my friend K's house. Our slutty friend P was explaining how to suck cock. The three of us girls sat on K's bed deep-throating carrots, watching each other, as P coached. This was the only reason we were friends with her: information. Once when I went to tour a college, a girl taught me how to drink beer from the bottle. "You know," she said,"like giving a blowjob." I said, "How's that?" She tucked her upper lip over her teeth and drank.

Now that I think about it, the first time couldn't have been with my college boyfriend. I distinctly remember this my freshman year, before I dated him: being at a big party, then going to a guy's room to drink tequila with his friends from another school. One of the visitors and I snuck into a hallway bathroom and I blew him in the dark. He came on my neck and hair, and on the rugby shirt I had borrowed from a friend. I felt cool and naughty.

I remember guys and their penis, but not specifically what it was like to give them head. Early on I thought it was just difficult, but I could do it. I didn't love it. I wanted to be good at it, though (kind of a pathology of mine). There was one guy I dated for a short time; we had sex, he went down on me, but I never gave him a blowjob. When we broke up, it was one of the things I was glad for.

It's so personal, so intimate, I think. Much more so than having sex. It's a lot of hard work, so you have to be really motivated and love it for it to be good. As an expression of intimacy, love, and desire, it isn't something you take on glibly. At least, I don't.

At this point, I do looooooooove to do it, but especially with one particular person. His cock is just the right size for my mouth. I like to tease him with my lips and tongue, then eventually take him deep all the way. It takes his breath away. It amazes him to watch it in the mirror. He likes it when I slide a wet hand between his legs and ass cheeks. When he starts to set the pace, to thrust against me, I back off and reassert my own rhythm, making him wait. I lick him like candy. He caresses my hair. What I love the most is when his fingers gently caress the wet seam between my mouth and his cock. It drives me crazy and I gasp and roll my eyes. I make him last, alternating between fast and slow, hard and soft. Sometimes I use my hand to stroke him faster, with my lips riding the tip of his cock. I go faster. Hair sticks to my face. Everything, my face, my hands, is wet. My eyes tear with the effort of it. Finally he shoots into my mouth and I take it all, swallow it. I let him sit in my mouth, then slowly let him leave, laving him with my tongue as he goes.

I relish him this way, open-mouthed and spent. Astounded by what I've done. There's nothing like it. I'd do it any day of the week.

Tagged

1. Have you had three-way or group sex?
Almost. But I wasn't really into one of the guys and wound up alone with the one I liked. It worked out just fine.

2. Have you ever had sex during menstruation?
Sure. Makes an ungodly mess. I only feel squeamish if my partner does. Often it feels better, eases cramps, helps with out of control hormones.

3. Have you ever had a sexual experience with someone of the same gender?
Yes. My God, what a smile she had.

4. Have you ever had sex in your parent's home?
Only as a teenager, on the kitchen floor.

5. Have you ever had hot interracial sex?
No. I'm Whitey the White girl, apparently. I've never been offered.

6. Have you masturbated in front of another person?
No. I'm too shy. It may happen yet. I like the idea...but when it comes down to it, I like the fucking so much it seems a waste to make him just sit there and watch. Though I admit, I've liked watching him. I'm hoping this is something I'll overcome s-o-o-n.

7. Have you had sex in a public place?
Only in the car, parked on the street or in a parking garage.

*Getting hotter and hotter. Is this supposed to be for you, the reader, or me? I may have to excuse myself soon to recall some of these things more accurately.*

8. Have you been filmed or photographed having sex?
Not to my knowledge.

9. Have you had anal sex?
Mmmmmmyes.

10. Have you masturbated today?
Getting closer by the minute.

11. Have you had sex in a car?
Yes. An Oldsmobile and a Jeep. Buy American!

That's about it. Maybe I'll post more based on these answers.

Sugasm #16 - Great Stuff!

The best of the blogs by the bloggers who blog them (this week starting with the letter ‘R’):

Real? You decide (swelteringcelt.com)

Reminder of Summer (domequeen.blogspot.com)

Restraint (curvaceousdee.blogspot.com)

Riding the Train (ambientstorm.blogspot.com)

Right Now… (secretbrain.blogspot.com)

Sanctuary (nyc-urban-gypsy.blogspot.com)

Sitting Behind You (alwaysarousedgirl.blogspot.com)

Snowballed (sexinga.blogspot.com)

Stimulate Me, Penetrate Me (insatiablemrw.blogspot.com)

The dancer… (dzerotica.blogspot.com)

The Girlfriend (radicalvixen.com)

The Peach On…. First Times (damnjezebel.com)

Back at Last! (shaysexcolumn.blogspot.com)

Blind Date (anyonesgirl.blogspot.com)

Driving Passions (deltaofvenus.blogspot.com)

Facial pictures… (pornster.blogspot.com)

Fallen (in lust, love, sex, from grace….) (chaosnoir.blogspot.com)

Femme de la cuisine (emergingontheotherside.blogspot.com)

Girl interrupted……Pt 1 (whatsexmaycome.blogspot.com)

Gonzo interviews Gonzo Vasili K (sexblo.gs)

Even more great Sugasm Stuff to read!

House of Sedalia (theholidaylife.blogspot.com)

How to Look Like a Porn Star (sugarbank.com)

I’m not a smoker I’m a midnight toker (mimredbeard.com)

Kendra on Abby Winters (iloveabbywinters.com)

Kitkast Outtakes #1.2 (mskitka.com)

Lexie and Kristin on Sapphic Erotica (simply-saphicerotica.com)

Lina and Rita by Morenko on Met-Art (sensualarousalblog.com)

Looking For That Perfect Pose, Maybe You Can Help? (tirepaddle.com)

Pallet wrap (mnsss.blogspot.com)

Links lovingly policed by Sabrina Morgan.

More, and More.

It was late at night. Everyone in the house was asleep except for us. It had been a late one, with about eleven thousand beers. We pulled our sleeping bags onto the livingroom floor and lay down next to each other. In someone else's house, we had sworn to be good. "Hey," I whispered, "Kiss me goodnight." He leaned over and gave me a brief but soft kiss. "More," I whispered. He kissed me again, his tongue briefly touching my lips. He pulled away. I reached out for his hand. "More," I whispered. He came back to me and held my head in his hands as he kissed me harder and longer. I pulled my body against his. The nylon rustled around us. We kept kissing and my hands wandered over his chest, under his nightshirt. "More," I whispered. He opened his sleeping bag to me and now our full bodies could touch. I could feel it already: the need, the wakefulness. "More," I whispered. His hands pulled my t-shirt up over my chest. Then downward between my legs, lightly grazing my panties. "More," I whispered. He licked one nipple, then sucked at it harder and harder. I spread my legs and his hands stroked me until the wetness soaked through to his fingers. I longed to pant, but it made too much noise. "More," I whispered. He rolled on top of me and I smiled up at him. He pulled my panties aside and let the tip of his cock tickle me. He pulled them harder and the cloth rode up into my ass; I gasped and then clamped my lips shut. Shhhhhh. He kept doing this, teasing me a little with his hands, his cock, my ass. I felt my cunt pulse and throb, almost cramping with need for him. "More," I whispered. Then quickly, deftly, he slid inside me. My back arched and I could hear him breathing hard through his nose, trying not to make a sound. He thrust inside me, slowly and steadily. I couldn't help it: I whimpered. His eyes opened in alarm and he clamped a hand over my mouth, but he kept fucking me. I nodded my head: More. He understood. He left his hand there. On and on he pushed into me, kind and slow. He watched my eyes roll in pleasure. I relaxed into it, grinding myself up against him, fucking him as well as he was fucking me. Suddenly, I was coming. It ripped across my vision and through my body. I blinked hard and tried to swallow. He held his hand on my mouth and smiled down at me; all I could do was look at him and he could see my orgasm in my silent face. He felt the shudder in my body. He finally paused his thrusting, and I wiggled my toes.

I turned over onto my stomach. I looked back and saw his cock glistening and wet. I crouched back toward him and slid him up and down between my ass cheeks. He let me ride him like this for a minute. "More," he whispered. The tip of his cock teased my tight ass. I could feel it probing for entry but I would not relent. He reached into my toiletry bag and found a bottle of something wet and slippery. "More," he whispered, and massaged lotion onto my ass and his cock. I was on all fours, waiting. I felt him touching me gently, stroking me, then his hard cock insisting. He began to slip inside me as I relaxed and let him in. It was very slow and very tight. Finally, he was all the way inside my ass. He paused to let me take me in, to adapt to liking it. "More," he whispered. And we slid forward onto my stomach with him flat against my back. He began to grind in a circle into me. He throbbed. He thrust. "More," he whispered. I felt him draw back gently and thrust deeper. I wanted to moan from the pleasure and pain of it. I kept breathing into it. He went harder, he started to ride me. "More," he whispered. I pushed my hands against the floor, to push back into him, to make him fuck my ass harder. He drove into me and it was almost more than I could take. Almost. He kept it here, hard and fast but not too much. His forehead leaned on the back of my neck. His thrusting become more like bucking. He was going to come in my ass, to shoot inside of me. The thought was disgusting and thrilling. I wanted him to. I wanted to feel him fill me up. His cum would be all through me, oozing out for the whole next day, reminding me. "More," he grunted, as softly as he could. He rode me hard for another few thrusts. His cock felt huge inside me, swollen and pulsing out its load. I smiled with the thought of it, the feeling of it. He collapsed on my back. Our fingers intertwined and we relaxed. Through the window I could see the first blush of sunrise.

Secret Misery

I'v gotten used to lying, even showed a talent for it. I shamelessly abuse the trust I am given from a kind and loving person. Mostly I feel guilty not for what I've done, but for how facile it feels.

But it's hard, hard, hard, constantly to hide how I feel about this other person in my life. If we've bickered. If he's petulant and cross and I'm hurt. If I've gotten sharp with him and feel repentant. And so often like tonight, when I am secretly miserable and miss him. My part at home, however, is to be the gracious hostess, the attentive mother and wife. I have to put on a completely false face of cheerfulness.

And it will get worse. He will be leaving soon, and already I feel the desolation of his absence. This is not an easy time to face, and made more difficult by the requirement that I be mute about it to everyone I know. I would like to be able to curl up in a friend's arms and cry. I'd like to tell my mother. I'd like help.

I'm counting on you to listen.

See My Ass, Now.

Here. It. Is.


**I have new respect for all the self-portrait photography around here. This was not easy.**

Hate the Counter

So I'm getting hits but not a lot of return visitors, apparently. Why did I need to know this? Do I really need something like this to obsess over? Shouldn't I just say Whatever?

Ah, but the DoMe Queen can't do that. She wants to know what to do to make more people want her love her want her love her.

Alright you philistines, I guess we're adding photos and more stories on ass-fucking.

The Stuff of Dreams

My train of thought trails back to the other night: Loving the feel of him shooting into my mouth...licking his cum off my hands...feeling it ease out of me when I'm the shower the next day...

I love to have this stuff in all parts of me. On my skin, down my throat, everywhere it can go. Going home with part of him inside me.

Is that weird? Gross? Why do I like it so much with him in particular? Actually, I kind of relish the disgusting part of it. Getting sullied. Stepping outside propriety.

Does a girl's response matter to you? Is it a source of pride? Self-conscious shame? I hope not. When I'm around, you'll crow with pride about what you've made.

What I Won't Write About

I could write about the endless foreplay, that I asked him to do this and he did. There's plenty to say about how it felt to have his cock in my mouth, with our hands both stroking and tickling until he came. I'm sure you'd enjoy hearing about any animalistic thrashing or spanking. I'll consider telling you about my multiple orgasms. Or the smell of sex on our hands, our bodies, and on our breath this morning as we made love once again.

I could do that. You'd like to hear about it. What I will hold in my mind, though, is the way we looked at each other, knowing that we love each other dearly. The way he caressed my back as I lay there. When he was inside me, I whispered there was no one like him. He called me Darling. At least for a while I felt fearless and fierce, gorgeous and lovely. This is what I'll tell you. This is what mattered.

Sleep Demons

Many months ago I began to lose sleep. We were in a new house. Light and noise were different. Then I stayed awake thinking about someone. The last time we had been together, when we would see each other again, what I wanted him to do, what he had done to me...my mind whirled and I would get hotter and hotter. The best cure was to forfeit and go to another room and get off. There were logistics to think about, plans to lay, and that kept me awake too. And as things progressed emotionally, I lay awake wondering how he felt about me. Would he ever say he loved me? Did I love him? How could I live my life either with or without him? How could I ever give up the amazing sex? On and on my brain went.

I still lose sleep now, but for the opposite reason. I know how we both feel and that we don't want to interrupt our lives to be together exclusively. We're both stressed and anxious, and even more uneasy with the principle of what we're doing (which we've felt from the beginning). Now it is guilt that keeps me awake. When we plan to be together I fret. I still feel the same desire toward him, and abandon myself to him when we're together. But I'm grateful there's an end in sight. I need some sleep.

Love the Counter

Got my counter back up and running and am so pleased to see about 100 hits just today. I'm laughing because they're probably all me, checking my counter.

Anyway, it's nowhere near Always Aroused Girl's 100,000+, but I'm feeling loved!

I'm such a DoMe Queen.

A Nerd, Reading

I'm sitting sideways on the couch, reading. I have on my glasses, a button down shirt, and a plaid skirt. I took off my shoes but I still have on my argyle knee-high socks. My feet are up. As I read I play with my pearl necklace.
He comes in from his shower. He had been travelling and hadn't had a chance to clean up; it's the only reason he had waited to take me. His towel drops to the floor. I keep reading. I'm at the part when Jane and Ellis take their sleeping bags up the cliffs and fuck relentlessly, before the village is raided the next morning. It's a good scene; I usually re-read it four times.
He's walking around the room, pulling a comb from his bag, peeking out the window. They've never given us this room before, so he checks the view. I ignore him completely. Finally he comes to stand before me. "What are you reading?" I don't answer but hold the book up so he can read the title. "Oh. Never heard of it." He just stands there, naked.
I swing my legs down to the floor and look up at him. I concede, and put down my book. He stands directly in front of me and I put my hands on his hips. His skin is still damp and warm from the shower. His cock is soft. But I know this one. He'll get hard instantly and repeatedly.
He pushes me me backward and straddles my lap. My head rests on the back of the couch and he lowers his mouth to mine. We begin to kiss slowly. His tongue licks mine, then the corners of my mouth. He kisses my eyes, which are closed. My hands trace up and down his back and ass. I can feel his cock press into my stomach. He begins to undress me and starts with my shirt, unbuttoning it all the way. He unclips the front closure of my bra. I'm pinned here, with him on my lap, doing what he wants. He rises slightly so his cock slides up the soft skin between my breasts. Neither of us speaks as he strokes against me. I look down to watch him and squeeze my breasts together with my hands. I bend my head down and quickly lick the tip of his cock as it emerges with each thrust. It's clean and salty. Now he moves a little quicker. "Do you mind?" he asks.
"No," I say, "I want you to come."
"Good. I will." He strokes faster between the pale mounds of my breasts as I hold them tightly against his cock. I get hotter just watching.
"Yes, use me." I'm smiling. "Come all over me," I urge. I look up and he's watching himself ride against my chest.
"Oh yes, you like it." I nod. Soon he is bucking his hips, and his head rolls back. I feel warmth on my neck and collarbones. It goes on longer than I would have thought. He's been saving himself for me. Fianlly he pauses and sits back on my legs. Slowly he strokes his semen into my chest and up to my chin. When he touches my nipples I know that later on he'll taste himself there when he sucks. His touch is gentle as he marks me as his.

State of the Union: Leave Me Alone

I am a strange mix of introvert and extrovert. That is, I'm very social and personable, charming and funny. Men like me. Women like me. I can find something to talk about with anyone. But it exhausts and drains me. The only way for me to recharge is to have some heavy alone time, either with a book or to putter around. I really have to push for it around here, and guilt-free independance is probably what I miss most about being married. Well duh, kind of a no-brainer, eh?

I live with a husband. He confounds me. When something is lost, he asks me where it is before looking for it. He has been home and called me on the phone to ask what there is for lunch. When he wants to be helpful, he asks me what he should do instead of just looking around and seeing what needs doing. He always responds when I ask for something or have a need. But there is something of a child in him, unable (or maybe unwilling at this point) to engage in our life without prompting. I've been home with the boy and in charge of the house for almost three years, so I've helped create this scenerio by taking care of everything around the house. I think he's gotten over-dependant on me.

But this is what drives me the most crazy: when I'm reading or at the computer, he just interrupts and starts talking at me. No respect for my privacy or time. Sometimes I say, Hold on a sec, and finish what I'm doing and then look at him. Usually these days I shoot him a look of disbelief and anger. He knows this is a problem. It's a constant issue. I bring it up, he apologizes, he continues to do it. To me it signals a basic disrespect for me as an individual human, as though I'm here just to attend to his needs and whims. Fighting for something so basic exhausts and frustrates me. Like, how fucking complicated is it to get this?

I live with a toddler. No use explaining how high-need he is (diapers, dressing, eating, reading). It's evident at this age.

The short-term solution is to steal some time away tomorrow, maybe even overnight. But long-term? I have no idea.

First Thoughts of 2006

I've had occasion over the past two days to give some serious thought to this forum and why I blog. Generally, I have the same reasons as many other people: to disclose whatever I want and have an audience bear witness, hopefully without judgement. So far, I have been very gratified by the cathartic feeling, and often feel more clarity after writing through a thought or an issue. Not surprising, I also feel that it fosters a side of me that I am lax or hesitant about sharing in my current life. I hope that I am brave enough to address and resolve this dichotomy in real life, not just the web.

I have been surprised and touched by many voices out here. I am emboldened by all of you, both the confused and the confident, and meek and the fierce. Thank you for posting on your own blogs, leaving a comment here, or just checking in to read my latest missive.

Wishing you well for the new year,

WryGirl