Hitting 100!

Well, this marks the 100th post I've entered into this blog. One hundred posts of desire and submission, masturbation and exposure, exploration and aspiration. All touched with both, or either, optimism and disappointment. We've had a little music, a little message, and, I'm sad to say, a little whining.

So, I make a wish, or a proposal, or an incantation - may the next 100 posts (and the next year) include all of the above, perhaps with a bit more emphasis on the sexy aspects. And, a heap of love besides.

In fact, it's what I wish for us all.

Happy New Year!

Beating the Clock with Thanks

If I can muster the energy and creativity within the next 2 days, I can achieve the lauded goal of having posted 100 times in this blog since my very first entry back in February. (After this, I'll only need 1 more!) One hundred posts, some of little or no consequence, in less than a year. Impressive? I'd say not. Fun? Absolutely.

I've given myself the gift of expression these past 100 submissions. The gift of expression and release and exploration. I can only hope that in my effort to free myself I have, at the least, entertained you and, at the most, helped to inform you of something in yourself.

I've appreciated so much the acquaintances I've made through this blog and in this world of sexual deviance. I've appreciated our communication and your insights.

I look forward with excitement and trepidation, as always, to the year ahead and can only hope you continue to visit me and lend me your ears, for even a moment. Without your voices, this is just a journal. From the beginning, I've hoped it would be so much more. And it has.

"...everyone is a blogger and a reader! When you write a comment, you are blogging. It is as simple as that. When you read something and have any opinion of it, you are also blogging and reading. Blogging does not mean you have to open a blog and write for it. Blogging means to participate in any manner that promotes the very concept of blogging." - Reader Appreciation Project

** Some Statistics - I've only tracked statistics since March 28th, so the first month of posting is lost, but since 3/28 I've had over 14,000 hits to this blog (more than 23,000 page loads). Wow!

When the Clock Strikes Twelve

In just a few short days the year of our lord 2007 will fade away and be replaced by 2008. Whooplah will be had by many (including yours truly) and we will celebrate the passing of time. Which, if you think about it, is really a bit inane. We generally don't think about it and, instead, buy champagne, act on the excuse to kiss strangers, watch fireworks and shout "woo-hoo".

Perhaps you can sense my cynicism. It is, for the most part, how I approach most things. Especially those that are revered by popular culture. I'm immediately suspect that someones having something over on me and I resent it. Regardless, I often find myself, like the sheep that I am, following the herd. In this case, I wear the party dress (Panties or no panties? You decide.), I contribute to the pot-luck with dessert because I think it's vitally important to celebrate anything with chocolate, and, yes, I buy champagne.

The majority of the 40 odd years I've celebrated New Years Eve have been in quiet reflection. In other words, I had nothing to do. I stayed home, sometimes alone, sometimes with a partner, watched that stupid ball drop in Disneyland... oops, sorry, in Times Square*, and tucked myself in by 12:05. I wake up the next morning and try to detect a change, however subtle, in the world. Usually, the only change is in the weather.

This year I will be at a friends annual New Years party with people I know, not well, but for some time. We'll drink, dance, eat, watch fireworks, and generally follow the prescribed events for this holiday. It will be fun.

And just maybe I'll be surprised by something unexpected.



*This is sort of an inside joke for New Yorkers. Or, at least, those of us that despise the demise of the real Times Square, peep shows and all.

A Christmas Card

Wishing you all a Very Merry and Sexy Christmas!

Love,

Eve

The Age Old Question...

Does size matter? In my opinion it does, but in fact, I'm not talking about what you think I'm talking about.

As mentioned in a comment I made here, last night I was out with this man, who has become somewhat of a friend, by the way, having some drinks and a meal. After we ate we wandered around SoHo a bit looking for a suitably quiet and divey bar to have a nightcap. We happened to pass Babeland (which I thought was called Babes in Toyland, but apparently I'm wrong) and thought we'd stop in for a browse.

If you're ever bored and near one of these stores, you really must go in. It's so much fun! There's so much to look at and touch and turn-on. Whirring noises abound! I actually felt the action (on my hand) of The Cone and, were I to have a spare $130 I'd buy one. Fabulous.

So, we stopped and looked at the butt plugs as this is something I've thought to add to my meager collection of sex toys. I immediately thought the small one would be a good start for my relatively virgin bottom. He laughed and said, oh no, this is the one for you.

I left the store empty handed.

I'm just not ready, I guess. Quite honestly, and this will sound rather odd perhaps, but the idea of putting one of those things, large or small, into my own butt, squigs me out. The idea of someone else putting it in is perfectly acceptable (given the perfect conditions, of course). I have no explanation for this. My modesty extends only to myself.

I'm sure, with practice and patience, I could get past this issue of mine. Maybe I need to experience having a plug placed in my ass by a lover, a few times, when I really want it and am ready for it, maybe craving it, maybe begging for it. Maybe I need to need it before I can get past my squiginess.

For now, my collection is plugless. But the idea lingers.

Music and Politics

I don't think I've ever posted music, so you all have no idea what I like (and, in fact, you're probably happy about that - I like pretty loud music). And I've rarely made political or social commentary, but I just think this song is brilliant musically and the message is important. Enjoy.

Forum Fun?

I recently stumbled across Pucker Up Forums at Tristan Taormino's site, Pucker Up. I love the idea of ongoing conversations about sex. The possibilities for discussion and learning and sharing of information are endless. Yet, it looks to me that it's not getting a lot of action and I'm puzzled by this.

Now, I have to admit that I am a fan of forums. For many years I was a member of a forum that related to a contemporary rock band. That forum is now defunct, but the core group of members, about 8 of us, have stayed in touch. During the time that we were still up and running, it was so much fun to chat and post each day. We discussed everything about our lives (mostly NOT about the band - they got left in the dust early in the game), personal issues, social issues, relationship issues. We were a little community held outside of our "real" lives and the amount of support we gave each other (and still do) was tremendous.

I think a forum focused on sexuality, sexual issues, kink, and general debauchery is brilliant! While we do a similar thing in our sex blog community, each of us posting and then commenting, it's different than having a discussion. One thread that unites the community about a particular topic.

I'm a little stumped that the forum doesn't get more traffic. Days can go by without a post or with only 1 or 2. And yet, if you look at the stats at the bottom, you'll see many people lurking. For instance, right now, I'm the only member logged in, with 41 lurkers. There are over 1900 people that have enrolled as members. Yet, they say only about 300 of them are active members.

So, I bring this to my readers in the hope of generating more conversation. The topics that can be discussed are endless in scope. Everyone bringing their own fetishes to the table.

At least check it out and, hopefully, you'll feel inclined to add your 2 cents.

The Hormonal Conundrum

It's hell, quite simply. Up and down, back and forth, never knowing what will be from one day (moment?) to the next. Last week this time I was writing and randy and ready for more. Today, I have to work a bit harder to feel any kind of twitch of excitement. I blame it on hormones.

Less sex drive. Hormonal fluctuations that occur during perimenopause are often the culprit behind the loss of interest in sex that is experienced by many perimenopausal women.

The literature on this varies from high to low. Most say it decreases, but I've seen a couple of discussions of an increase in sex drive. Well, I have both. How about that? It depends on what day it is.

Luckily, it's not gone entirely (been there, done that). I can still get the requisite reaction from watching a man stroke his cock. Or from remembering that night in the club with the man and his two women. It's there, usually, like a low grade fever. A little something just under the surface that, given the right elements, will emerge. Hot and ready. I think that's what makes the ebb and flow of the overall drive so frustrating.

Now, I do realize that everyone experiences highs and lows of sexual desire. It's not a constant, driving force (for most). This experience is a bit different, however. It doesn't feel like a normal, "I'm just not in the mood" fluctuation. It feels dramatic and severe and sudden. Like dropping off the side of a cliff.

I guess I'm writing about this because, after having read over the last few months of posts, I realized that I've recorded these swings here. The highs and the lows. And, instead of taking on the, "oh no, where has it gone?" attitude, I want to try to go with it. Know it's going to come and go and it's not the end of the world (or my sex life). And maybe I'm writing about this so that you, my readers and friends, can remind me when I start to adopt that ridiculous nihilistic attitude that it's temporary. It will pass. I will once again write my smut with passion and perseverance.

So, today, not so much smut.

Tomorrow, well, we just don't know.

Part(y) 2

Read Part I

I was not abandoned by the photographer. While he didn't participate (much), he certainly stayed to watch (Were photos taken? I'll never know).

I began with her left breast. Pulling it into my mouth I nibbled and swirled around her nipple. I savored her soft, smooth skin. I pulled her right breast into my mouth and did the same. She pulled me in for a kiss. A soft, light kiss. She tasted sweet.

Hands roamed, hers and mine. Mouths and tongues licked and sucked and devoured and I can't remember the sequence of anything.

But I remember this:

I was atop her with my mouth close to her damp, shaved pussy. She was pulling my clit and my lips into her mouth with such vigor I was a little overwhelmed. She pushed her fingers into me in a way, not savage, but aggressive. Decisive. She wanted to hit her mark. She did.

I gave my attention to her small, somewhat dainty cunt. If that word can be used to describe a cunt, it would appropriately describe hers. Her lips were small and close to her body. Her clit was concealed, but not hard to find. The opening was damp, very wet, and a perfect pink. I'm not sure I ever met a cunt quite so sweet in appearance. This was a porn star pussy.

I alternated between this delicacy and her boyfriends cock, which, when I lifted my head, was available for me to suck. And I did. A lot. Often. In fact, our girl was given short shrift in deference to this long, thick and hard phallus. My preferences are clear. Given a choice, I'll choose cock every time.

This, my friends, was a slice of heaven.

I had, at this point, forgotten the photographer, until I felt hands on my ass that did not belong to her. They were his, the voyeurs, and he was spreading me for her. So that she might have better access to her goal.

I shivered at this. He was there, he was watching, he was exposing me. Not just to her but, really, to all.

The Party

"Are you having a good time?"

"It's okay. Good music."

"Just okay? What would make it more okay?"

"Well, it's a lot of couples, mostly younger couples, really. I think the younger women cling more to their men and aren't so open to sharing. If you know what I mean."

"I think you're right about that."

"And, I'm not so good at...initiating, you could say."

"Well, do you like to watch? Obviously, I do."

This said from the photographer in the room.

"I do, yes."

"Well, why don't we go watch together then."

So the man with the camera, who was at the least in his late 30's, probably closer to mid-40's, and I strolled arm in arm towards the back of the room. It was there that things were happening. Bodies wrapped up in each other. Mostly couples together, really, but some couples had invited (or allowed) another person into their activities.

For a while we watched a couple fuck. She was on top and we watched as his cock was rhytmically swallowed by her cunt. Then she stopped moving and sat up. You could see by the look on her face how deep was the penetration. The photographer was behind me. Pushing himself into my back, my bottom. His right hand around my waist. His left holding his camera.

"That's nice."

"Yes."

"Come over here."

Turning to the left, he guided me to an area with platforms and mattresses that was curtained off, yet clearly not private. People were fucking, people were watching. We went to the last platform and began to watch an attractive couple as, she on her back, he kneeling upright, pushed his cock into her. She was a lovely blond. Creamy white skin, a little tattoo above her left breast (butterfly? heart?). He was fit, but not overly so. Handsome.

"Do you want to join them?"

"Oh, I don't know. Yes, I guess so."

Leaning in more towards the man he asked, "Can she join you?"

"It's up to her", the man said.

We both looked at her, she into my eyes. We smiled and she said yes.

Read Part II