Paradise Tied Up

Congratulations....

2010-02-17T23:42:00.003-05:00

I come out of my self-imposed seclusion to offer congratulations and great good luck to Remittance Girl on the publication of her story "The Waiting Room". I had the good fortune to read this story some time back and it is hot. And so well written.

Please check it out.

The Waiting Room

Congrats, RG.

The End

2010-01-29T22:51:00.001-05:00

i enjoy your company, and we do have many things in common. but i should also tell you that at just about the time i met you, i met someone else with whom i think i will wind up exploring the possibility of a relationship.

I give up, people. I give...fucking...up.

The Little Things

2010-01-11T22:58:00.002-05:00

I've struck up a correspondence with a fellow from Alt who seems to have a bit of class, and maturity, and intuition. This one line has me wondering even more about him and I'm looking forward to our meeting.

He said, in reference to our future meeting, "...if you have a place you like, let me know. if not, i'm happy to take the lead and pick out a place for us."

Now, it seems to me that this is the perfect thing for a REAL Dom to say! To take the lead, to pick out a place for us, to let me know where it is and when I should be there (within our agreed time frame). I cannot tell you how rare this is, and I think that's why I'm so struck by it! So many times I have made plans to meet someone who professes to be a Dominant and yet I have to make all the arrangements. I pick out the place and the time and how to get there and whatever, whatever. It always seems just wrong! And now I know why. Because it is!

I am intrigued and not a little bit tickled by this approach and am very much looking forward to meeting this man.

It reminds me, once again, what I am looking for. A true gentleman.

New Years Resolution

2010-01-03T23:39:00.005-05:00

Let me begin by saying I don't believe in New Years Resolutions. I have always found them to be set ups for disappointment and failure. Instead, I prefer goals for the year.

This year I have one main goal - I want to be more daring. I want to do things I've never done before. I want to push myself to really find my limits or go beyond them because I rarely do that. I'm very much a person that stays in the comfort zone (so to speak). I want to challenge that approach. I'm not talking just sexually (although, of course, I am talking sexually). I want to push myself creatively and socially, as well. This is a big city with so much to do and I simply don't do enough of it.

I also think that if I push my limits sexually it will naturally expand into the rest of my life. And, maybe, vice versa. If I push myself creatively, maybe it will expand my sexual life. That seems to make sense. And when I talk about my sexual limits I am, generally, talking about pain. I am absolutely certain that I have not even come close to my pain limit. I've simply never found anyone who was either willing to take me there or who hung around long enough to go the distance. I'm hoping that that has changed. And, even if he is not that person, then I want to push myself to find that person. In 2009 I held back. I lost hope and gained weight (those two things seem to go hand in hand for me). I am committed (remember this later, Eve) to making 2010 different and not losing sight of my goal and my potential. As a creative individual and as a submissive.

Happy New Decade!

2010-01-01T15:51:00.002-05:00

Last Night

2009-12-28T21:54:00.005-05:00

Last night I got a spanking. A good, sound spanking.

With the cuffs on my wrists and my arms pulled and chained behind me, I was led into the bedroom. There, in front of the bed, he pulled down my pants and my panties. He undid the chain on my wrists and positioned my arms to the front of my body. Pushing me forward so that the upper half of my body was on the bed and my bottom hanging off the edge, he began. A methodical, even, smack from one cheek to the other. Then he stopped. He spread me apart, my legs, my cheeks, my lips. He felt how wet I was.

"I think you like this", he said.

Oh yes.

And then he began again. More swats, maybe a little harder this time. Then he plunged his fingers into me. Pulling out the wetness that was now close to dripping down my legs.

Pushing me up on the bed he pulled the chain around the small headboard. He pushed a pillow under my abdomen, and spread my legs so that he could see me. More spanking, more fingers searching, probing, filling me up. Then he fucked me. And fucked me. Oh, so, good.

Later, as I lay on my belly with my head to the side facing him, still chained to the bed, going nowhere, we chatted. Talking about what other painful things he could do to me with the right tools (a flogger? cuffs that fit better?), the subject of the spanking came up. I don't remember exactly what was said, but it was mentioned that the spanking I got was mild. To illustrate, he gave me 3 or 4 swift, VERY hard swats on my bottom and the back of my thighs.

"This", he said, "is a discipline spanking."

The difference between what I got earlier and those few demonstration smacks was stark.

Today I wrote him to reiterate how much I enjoyed our time together -

"I can't help but think about the many things, both painful and restrictive, that might be in my future."

And he returned with -

"....painful and restrictive....good choice of words."

Party Time

2009-12-12T18:57:00.004-05:00

Time for a little holiday festivity. Tonight I am going to a party. The likes of which I haven't attended in well over a year. I have no idea what might happen. Maybe lots, maybe nothing. Maybe just dancing and a few drinks. Maybe...well, maybe something else altogether.

We

shall

see.

Coda: It was a fun party. Excellent music, which for me can often be the primary purpose. To dance. And dance I did. People were particularly friendly last night, which isn't always the case at these fete's. There was lots of sex. I didn't have any. And that's okay. No-one, single or couple, took my fancy. They had a Sybian there which initially peaked my interest. Until I realized they had it only on vibrate and covered it with Saran wrap for each woman who hopped on (which, of course, made perfect hygienic sense). Being not very fond of vibrators, I lost interest. I gave it a go, though, just to see, but jumped off posthaste. Not my thing. No penetration, no Sybian.

And there you have it.

Dating? Did you say Dating?

2009-12-06T21:58:00.006-05:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, I had a date today. It was a lunch date, so rather casual, but it was a date. With a gentlemen (and I mean that in the truest sense of the word) who found me on Alt. Alt? Wait, Alt? Yes. Alt.com. My profile has been there lo these many months (years?) although mostly unattended by visitors and neglected by me. Suddenly, though, out of nowhere, I'm popular.

The story goes like this:

A young man wrote me a week or so ago and we struck up an e-mail exchange. I'm not sure how he found me among the missing, but he did. Bully for him. He was in fact too young for yours truly, but we toyed with the idea of having it on, so to speak. In a very odd turn of events, he wrote me (in a mass e-mail) to say that he had just seen a therapist (not like this) and discovered that he was a sex addict and could no longer fraternize with previous associates. This seemed strangely coincidental with just the time we were trying to make a plan, but whatever. If he's on the wagon, good for him.

At this point, though, I was, for all intents and purposes, back "on" Alt. Simply by showing up, apparently, the fish come to feed. I was getting winks and visits and e-mails and invites and what-have-you. Most of these I summarily rejected. Why, you ask? Because I don't respond to a cock. If all someone can post as their picture is of their cock, then I can only assume this is all they have to offer. Boring. I'd rather someone have no picture at all then a picture of their cock.

However, I did get an e-mail from a very interesting man who had a real picture of himself (very brave!) and some interesting things to say in both his profile and his e-mails. He presented himself as a real person.*** Now that I respond to! So, we e-mailed a bit and spoke on the phone and today we had a lovely lunch and visit.

I'm not sure what this means except that it proves I am not dead. I hope I see him again and I believe I will.

I don't want to neglect telling you that we seem to be somewhat compatible in our proclivities, as well. I mean, this is Alt, after all. Not Match.com. Now THAT's exciting!

*** I want to mention that I do not have a picture of myself on my profile there. I have a picture of my neck. It is this picture. So, it is me just not my face. I am not as brave.

Bless me Father for I have...

2009-11-21T23:48:00.004-05:00

It's been 6 months since my last confession and my sins are multiple.

I have had no sex in over a year. While I do consider dating again, the thought of another evening of vapid conversation, forced smiles and a quick life review leaves me cold. I have some small thought in the back of my head (which I know holds no hope) that somehow, somewhere, I will meet someone by some miracle of chance. I can only hope this can happen because I don't have the energy to search anymore. And I wouldn't know where to search anyway because I have given up the internet as even a remote possibility in granting me a life of happiness. Or even, at this point, a night of happiness.

I have masturbated infrequently, sometimes only 1 time in a month. I fear some months I have not masturbated at all.

I have been negligent in reading my fellow bloggers sites and, when I do read them, even the raciest, sexiest, hottest of posts leave me dry. Some of this arid response can be blamed on age, life changes and hormones (or so I'm told). And, blame I will.

I have no excuse for these transgressions. Actually, I have lots of excuses. Such as hormones, as afore mentioned. Depression and the inability to find a decent shrink. Now winter and the onset of darkness at 4:30 in the afternoon. All these reasons can be held as responsible for my inability to meet the expectation of being an attractive, middle aged, single woman. Or, put another way, my inability to get laid.

But, excuses aside. External (or internal, even) pretext cannot be all the blame. I know some of the blame must be cast upon myself and my apathy. And I know I must be held accountable. And punished. I must be punished for my sins. My sins of the absence of flesh upon flesh.

I can only hope that with punishment comes absolution. Or, at the least, orgasm.

California Girls?!?

2009-05-01T23:31:00.004-04:00

Is this supposed to be the representative and role model for California girls?

A homophobe with fake tits?

Very disappointing.

Recognition

2009-04-13T23:30:00.009-04:00

I'd just like to offer some recognition to the readers who still, unfailingly, visit this blog. With sporadic and, admittedly, boring updates, I admire your persistence and loyalty. And optimism, I suppose. Hoping for something juicy? You and me both.

Maybe someday, my friends. Maybe someday.

kisses....

Eve

Among the Banned

2009-03-19T22:52:00.002-04:00

One of our favorite bloggers and writers, Remittance Girl, has been flagged as a potentially banned site in Australia. She's described as being, "a condensed encyclopedia of depravity and potentially very dangerous material".

I love this and so does she. So I thought I should give her a little extra promotion (since I'm not on the list and I know for a fact I have readers in Australia).

So, cruise over to Remittance Girls site and read her most excellent erotic fiction. It will enthrall, excite and expand your mind. I know it has mine.

Thanks, RG. You're an inspiration.

Monthly Report

2009-02-14T00:17:00.002-05:00

It seems I've become a monthly reporter, as it were. Every 30 days or so I have something to say. Or, some need to check-in, I guess. Checking in with you. With myself.

I have no news. No racy or sublime tale to regale you with, I'm afraid. Just...nothing.

Winter, I suppose, brings this lull.

Or, maybe the reality is that middle age has finally caught up with me. I don't look my age. I was told this just the other day when I confessed the true number. But I am the age I am, nevertheless.

I could just fade into the middle distance. Maybe I am. In the middle distance, far from it all. Far from anyone.

memories like fingerprints are slowly raising
me, you wouldn't recall, for I'm not my former
it's hard when, you're stuck upon the shelf

hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away
hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away
hearts and thoughts they fade...

Essence of NYC: A Play in One Act

2009-01-10T17:48:00.003-05:00

I found this over at the Vanishing New York Blog in the "Random Quote Overheard in New York" link at the bottom of the page. They're all pretty funny, but this one really gives you a mental picture of an average subway ride.

Bimbo tourist #1: Anyway, so when he pulled it out of me it made this farting noise, and I know it wasn't a fart because it didn't smell, and... It was just really embarrassing.
Bimbo tourist #2: Quip.
Bimbo tourist #1: What?
Bimbo tourist #2: A quip. The farting noise, it's called a 'quip.'
Bimbo tourist #1: Oh, they have a name for it? Wow.
Bimbo tourist #2: Oh, totally. It happens to a lot of people.
Stranger: Um, that's not right.
Bimbo tourist #2: Excuse me, sir?
Stranger: No, it's 'queef.'
Bimbo tourist #2: Wait, what?
Bimbo tourist #1: I think he's saying his name is 'Queef' or something.
Bimbo tourist #2: Oh, sorry. Excuse me, Queef?
Stranger: No... Oh, lord. The sound, it's 'queef.'
Bimbo tourist #2: Who's a 'queef'? What's going on?
Bimbo tourist #1: I think he's one of those crazy subway guys you hear about. I think he's telling us he's gay.
Stranger: I can hear you, and I'm not... What? That's 'queer,' you ingrate!
Bimbo tourist #1: Here's some money for you, sir. Buy your boyfriend a nice grocery cart or something.
Stranger: What?! Does it look like I'm homeless to you? I'm wearing fucking YSL over here... I ain't queer and I ain't homeless. You ignorant, you skinny, Paris Hilton-wannabe whores. All I was saying to you was that when your sleazy-ass friend over here pulled her boyfriend's dick out of her STD-ridden pussy, the word...
Bimbo tourist #1: I'm not following... Is he speaking Cockney or something?
Bimbo tourist #2: I don't know. Are you allowed to mace crazy hobos?
Stranger: ...I'm not fucking crazy!
Bimbo tourist #2: Of course you aren't, sir.
Passenger: Oh, shut your mouth, both of ya, or I'm gonna whoop both your scrawny asses, you hear?
Stranger: Thank you. All I was saying was...
Old lady: Ah, hell no! Can't you see this conversation has gone past anyone in this damn subway's comprehension? Know when to drop it, brother. Know when to drop it.
Bimbo tourist #2: [Mouthing] Oh my god.
Bimbo tourist #1: I know. That was intense.
Stranger, muttering to himself: ... Last time I ever take a subway... Unbelievable shit I put up with... Fucking Civics... Unreliable fuckers...

--L train
Posted 2006-11-28

Welcome to my world!

Up, Up and Up Some More

2008-12-15T19:37:00.003-05:00

It seems that just this past Friday I had about 185 hits, as opposed to the 50 or 60 a day I usually get. I looked into it briefly and could find no clue as to what happened on Friday to warrant such a spike. I wondered if someone linked to me anew, or if someone was talking about me somewhere (although my ears weren't ringing, that I recall), but nothing.

I can only surmise that Friday is a particularly busy day for smut. Really, this makes perfect sense.

You've spent a busy, maybe draining, possibly boring, week at work. You come home knowing there's no alarm clock to disturb you the next day, so you have a drink, or a glass of wine. You read your e-mail, maybe play a game or two on Yahoo games and then find yourself wondering, "Hmmm...wonder if there's any new porn to get me off before I pass out."

One site leads to another and the next thing you know you're reading about a woman who's husband disciplines her for errant ways in the home. Or maybe you want to know what a woman really thinks about while she's masturbating.

Yes, Friday's are good nights for a little light reading. Whether it's your cock in your hand or your fingers sunk into the wetness of your cunt, I hope I helped you find some relaxation after a busy week.

A Little Traffic

2008-11-23T17:48:00.003-05:00

By traffic I don't refer to what happens when you get on the LIE (that's Long Island Expressway for those not in the know - often referred to as the largest parking lot in the world). I mean that I'm still getting some hits lately, a few stragglers I think from my moments of notoriety when I was included in the sex blog roundup a few weeks ago. That was nice. Also, my "fans" (read: "friends") read regularly and I adore them for it.

I figured if people are visiting I should have something inviting for them to read when they arrive. Maybe give a little update or titillate with something hot and steamy. Sadly, I have no hot and steamy. There is no spice in my life just now, so I don't have much to report from the real world. Even the imaginary world is cloyingly tame these days. Same old, same old when it comes to masturbation fantasy. Masturbation itself is on a bit of a back burner, anyway.

So, all I can do is say, "Hello" and "Welcome" and I'm glad you stopped by. Feel free to browse the archives and see if there's any mischief I was in previously that you fancy. If you find something that strikes you particularly, do let me know. It's always satisfying to know I'm turning someone on.

Congratulations America!

2008-11-06T23:33:00.002-05:00

On a job well done!

A Little More Than Advice

2008-11-01T11:00:00.002-04:00

Honored

2008-10-27T21:34:00.007-04:00

Lately I have been feeling like so much of a non-blogger. Writing infrequently. Having sex infrequently. And yet, here I am!

Thanks to Madeline for including me in this weeks Fleshbot Roundup. It's an honor.

And thanks to my buddy the Bunny for giving me the heads up.

Doesn't Play Well With Others, or...

2008-10-19T20:06:00.003-04:00

I don't like to share.

There are some things I love to share with others. I love to share a meal, music that I love, I love to share the company of my friends with the company of my other friends, I love to share good books I've read, a cup of tea, a blanket if it's cold, my toys, my time and, of course, my opinion.

I don't, however, like to share partners without knowing I'm sharing them. Meaning, if you're dating me then, well, you're dating me. You're not also dating someone else. Or other someone elses. I require, in a word, exclusivity. I'm pretty damn clear about this. Always have been.

It's this issue that has brought an end to my relations with our linguist here. It's too bad because that was some fun, but I know my limits fairly well and this is a hard one. (A hard limit, I mean.)

Ah, well. Win some, lose some.

Thank God for masturbation and an active imagination.

Boogie Nights

2008-10-04T18:10:00.004-04:00

There's a party tonight. Yes, one of those parties. And I'm going. Somewhat alone. I'll be with a friend and her occasional fellow, but I suppose that essentially will put me on my own. To which I am not averse. I like the freedom.

Of course, we know I don't really want all that much freedom. Tie me up and my heart sings.

The theme of this party is Boogie Nights. Which, in effect, makes the theme the 70's and early 80's. A period with which I too had Farrah Fawcett hair and did too much coke. Porn wasn't much in the mix for me, but I'm a late bloomer.

My outfit won't be exactly a period piece, but close enough. I'm in it for the dancing and whatever trouble I can get myself into. Or, whatever trouble (read: cock) can get into me.

Stay tuned, loved ones.

Language

2008-09-26T14:30:00.005-04:00

I think we all can agree that language and the psychology of certain words and phrases has a very strong and powerful affect on our sex lives. Even the quietest, meekest, most uncommunicative has to admit that a soft word whispered in the ear at the moment of climax can make it just that much better.

Of course, for me, I'm much happier if those quiet syllables equate to something dirty, perverse. Whisper "whore" in my ear and I'll drip all over the bed.

In the not so distant past I lay cross length on his bed, my yoga flexible legs spread apart and up and practically over my head, exposing my sex to him in a most vulnerable and accessible way. Pushing down on my thighs, holding me both apart and still, he plunged his cock into my pussy.

"Mmmm...you're just a fuckhole, aren't you?"

I gasped for air as he said this. Gasped as he pounded me.

"Just a nice place to put my dick."

I could feel the juice from my now overflowing cunt dripping down my ass onto the bed. I moaned, "yesssss...".

"You like being just a cunt, don't you?"

Yes. Yes, I do.

He plowed and I screamed as I left the earth and took off on that sea of unreality.

Sad to See You Go

2008-09-13T11:12:00.002-04:00

I realize I've been on the outskirts of the sex blog community for quite some time now. But, I do read my blog rolls at least once a week so as to keep up with what adventures my sexy friends are up to. So, I was sad and disappointed to find that everyones favorite Life Guard, LG in Atlanta, has taken down his blog, Ramblings of the Male Mind.

He was funny and sweet and sexy. A terrible flirt with excellent taste in women (as illustrated by the photos he loved to post of his favorite gals).

I hope all is well, LG. We'll miss you.

Timer is Everything

2008-09-01T22:56:00.005-04:00

My good friend Rupert up at the Chateau keeps a countdown timer on his blog so that we, his loyal fans, can track and commiserate with him during the long stretches through which he suffers between sexual activity. Or, maybe I should say between coupling. We KNOW he has uni-sexual activity. :)

I don't keep a timer (although there's a really loud, ticking one in my head - you can't hear it?) but I can report that I hadn't had sex with another person since January. I don't have an exact date on that, but we can say somewhere around the 25th. Close enough. So, seven (7) months since I was fucked.

Well, reset the timer people. We have lift-off. And a nifty lift-off at that, with more on the horizon, I believe.

And...are we ready?...And, it seems he has similar proclivities as well as being a decent, fun, helluva guy.

Let the hair-pulling commence.

All kidding aside -

YAY!

The Cycle of Life

2008-08-22T00:06:00.005-04:00

I guess I should be happy, or grateful, or relieved. And, I suppose, I am all those things. I find lately, I'm horny again. Thinking about sex again. A lot. At work. Thinking about sex at work. I don't mean having sex at work...you know what I mean. But, that's not the point. The point is that it's back, I guess. With less of a vengeance, but back.

The problem is that I don't want random sex with a stranger. Well, not really. I mean, if the right stranger came along, I would fuck him for sure. But, I want more. I want a partner. I want a master. Of sorts. I'm always a bit ambivalent about the whole master/slave whatever thing. But, I want that power. That power over me.

I've been dating a little. No-one particularly particular yet. But, you never know who's around the corner. Or so I keep telling myself. I've been praying for miracles. I just have to be smart enough to recognize one when it's in my face. That's the challenge. My own ability to be intelligent enough to see what's being presented to me.

All that aside, I want it.

I want my hair, which is quite long now, to be wrapped up in his fist. I want him to pull my head back and push his cock into my mouth. I want him to tell me, as I kneel before him, helpless to his force, to spread my legs, to touch myself as he fucks my mouth. I want to hear him groan with satisfaction as I do.

I want to be on my hands and knees on the bed while, behind me, he spreads me apart and examines me. My cunt wet and swollen. Dripping from his words as he tells me what a whore I am for showing myself to him in this way. As I push back a little farther, knowing this spreads me apart even more.

I haven't thought of these things in months and now these fantasies fill my head. I can hear in my mind the sound of his hand smacking my bottom red and sore and his derisive laugh as he plunges fingers into me and finds I'm so wet the two or three fingers he uses are not enough to create any friction.

I want it, now. I want it, again. I need a miracle.

Going up and coming down

2008-07-24T19:40:00.001-04:00

Yikes!

So, a girl sits down in a bar and has a drink. No, two. No, three. She's waiting for this friend, you see. Anyway, she has this very nifty new "smart phone" and decides that she'll write a bit while waiting for said friend. And write she does. She clicks on the "Save as Draft" button in her blogger interface, but apparently her phone is not as smart as she thought and mistakes one button for another. Or, something like that.

She will attempt to re-write said post on a smart computer. Hopefully it will help her to express herself in complete sentences.

More to come...

A Reason to Resurface

2008-06-19T22:57:00.005-04:00

I've been absent. From here, from many places. It's been a busy, aggravating and exhausting few months for me. My interest in sex and erotica has been non-existent and while I initally worried about this, I find now it's just where I am and that's okay. Other things need attention.

Like this country. Like the obvious crumbling of the economy and the indifference of our leaders. Everything costs more - food, health care, gas, housing. Everything. There are more homeless people on the streets, more children are going hungry, people are losing their jobs. We're a mess.

There's so many things we can do to help others. Donate money to favorite charities, donate food to food shelves or churches, volunteer time at soup kitchens. Vote.

Vote. If there's nothing else you can do to help, you can do this single, simple and important thing. The thing you are given as a right the moment you are born as, or become through hard work and dedication and patience, an American citizen.

Register today. Vote in November. It's your right. It's your responsibility. Help others. Help us all.

What's a girl to wear?

2008-05-09T01:03:00.005-04:00

The understatement of the caption on this picture offered up by Bacchus at Erosblog just kills me.

Bananas, indeed.

The Merry Month of May

2008-05-04T23:00:00.003-04:00

I cannot resist to remind anyone who may still visit this quiet blog that it is, once again, Merry Masturbation Month.

The festivities begin, not in your bedroom, but here with Shay on The S Spot. Visit her, then visit yourself in whatever way makes you feel oh...so...goooood.

Naked woman? Hand on rod?

2008-04-12T16:44:00.000-04:00

Or both? Either way, our smirking, sadistic (and not in a good way), duplicitous VP is photographed smiling at something that millions speculated was a naked woman. Further investigation finds it's just a hand (his?) on a fishing rod.

I don't know why, but I suspect when presented with a naked woman, Cheney doesn't smile quite so broadly. I don't imagine he becomes almost gleeful in his regard of her. I picture him leering and chuckling in a "...oh the things I'm going to do to you..." sort of way.

Not pretty.

Anyway, a few folks have been wondering about my whereabouts and my well being and I appreciate the check-ins. My life just doesn't have a whole lot of time for blogging right now. I have, though, been trying to keep up with my regular reads and occasionally commenting. I want to keep in touch.

I suspect at some point I'll have both something to write about and the time to do it. It's just not now.

I am alive, though. Thanks for asking.

Hugs....

Incomunicado

2008-03-27T22:09:00.002-04:00

I apologize for my absence and silence. It's been a busy and kind of rough few weeks as I adjust to a new job and new schedule. Absolutely nothing sexy has happened in my life of late. And, my libido seems to be buried under exhaustion, anxiety and playing a constant game of catch-up.

Once I dig out, or maybe, you know, get laid, I'll write more. I see that people are still ready this blog and I'm glad.

I'll be back...

A Little Something to Tide You Over

2008-03-18T22:04:00.002-04:00

Since I am obviously not writing anything (at all) I thought I shouldn't just leave my loyal readers high and dry completely. We are fortunate enough to have new work from none other than Remittance Girl. Her newest story is exciting, provocative and, of course, extremely erotic.

So, I direct you to The Splinter.

If you've not read her work before I also suggest you read some of her other stories. Two of my favorites are The Illustrated Teacher and Therapy.

RG's prose has inspired me to both write my own erotica and to explore my submission. Her ability to guide you through the details of an encounter between a Dominant and his submissive is remarkable. I hope you enjoy her writing as much as I do.

As for me, my life and schedule have changed in the past few weeks and I am no longer the master of my own time. Something will come (maybe even me) eventually.

A(nother) Sad Day for Democratic Politicians

2008-03-11T23:14:00.008-04:00

Why are politicians so stupid about sex? Why don't they realize that they have enemies who will do all they can to find their badly hidden dirt and expose it? If they're smart enough to get elected (and maybe I'm giving them too much credit there) why can't they take that intelligence and apply it to their dicks (in a manner of speaking).

I'm not a huge Spitzer fan. I don't even think he's been much of a governor. But this is just the stupidest thing. I mean really. Too fucking stupid.

Thank God Almighty

2008-03-09T16:24:00.000-04:00

Home at last, home at last, etc, etc.

I am happy to be home and safe and relatively sound (of course, that's a matter of opinion). It was a good trip. A needed trip. But coming home is sometimes the best part. I was ready to sleep (and masturbate) in my own bed.

They lost my luggage. In my luggage is my new toy. They lost my new toy. With any luck and the benevolence of the luggage department at La Guardia airport, we will be reunited. And then the fun (hopefully) will begin.

In the meantime, I came across this clothing store on Haight Street in San Francisco.

In fact, they seemed to know little about me. Well, my style of dress anyway. But, I like their logo. I've used a little image of it to the right.

Now, that should be the name of a sex toy store.

Reporting from the Left Coast...

2008-03-04T12:40:00.010-05:00

It's warm here. Spring-like. Or, maybe it's just Spring. I seem to be blessed (I know, I'm jinxing it) with good weather this week. Yay!

Wandered around the Mission area yesterday. Strolling up and down Valencia, I easily could have been in the East Village. It's that same blend of hip and grunge. Went into the very hip stores and didn't buy anything.

But wait! I lie! Unbeknownst to me, Good Vibrations lives on Valencia Street! I've been ordering from them for years and was so excited to walk into the store and shop live! In NY I have, of course, Toys in Babeland (now shortened to Babeland), but I have a place in my heart for GV. It was the first place (albeit on-line) that I ever purchased a toy for myself. So, I was thrilled to be there and wander the displays in person.

I, of course, had to buy something. That just went without saying. The something I bought is something I've wanted for a while, now. It's something I'm admittedly a little squeamish about. But I had to buy it. I was there and it was there in my hands waiting to make it's home with me. It was, as they say, the perfect opportunity.

I'm not going to tell you what this thing is. I figure it would be much more exciting, for you and for me, to report about it once it's been put to good (hopefully) use. In the meantime, you can guess what it is. Or picture in your mind what it might be. Or what you might hope it is.

This is the perfect opportunity for you to use your imagination. What would Eve be squeamish of, but drawn to? And, if I were with her, how would I help her get past her little phobia? Hmmmm....

Vacation

2008-02-24T10:09:00.003-05:00

I'm off on vacation tomorrow for a couple of weeks and am NOT bringing my laptop (I know - horrors!). I want this to be an actual vacation and bringing my machine would be counter to that goal. I'll have a chance to check my e-mail a bit but won't be posting anything.

So, my friends, stay warm, stay sexy.

The Perfect Table

2008-02-20T14:50:00.006-05:00

Bacchus at Erosblog refers us to this gallery of pictures because he's impressed by the variety of facial expressions the model treats us to throughout her examination.

What I am drawn to, however, is the table. This is the table of my fantasy and the moment I saw it I wished I could find an opportunity to get my check-up in that office.

It is perfect.

This picture is intriguing, as is the ample girth of the cock she's being impaled with, but look at the table. The restraints in exactly the right location to lock her wrists in place to the side of her head.

In this picture, you can see the stirrups that support her thighs and can comfortably (a word I use here lightly) hold her in place.

Oh yes, the perfect examination table for my doctor (and his nurse, of course) to test my many reactions to their ministrations.

A Little Time On My Hands

2008-02-09T11:41:00.000-05:00

Last night my plans changed and I found myself with an evening at home. At first this was disappointing, but I easily found something to do.

I watched boring, re-run TV for a little while (Please, writers and studios, figure this out! I cannot watch another Numbers re-run!). But, I was restless. I sat down with my laptop and wandered over to some blogs that can usually stir something in me. After a while, I wandered into my bedroom and took off my clothes. I don't generally become completely naked, but last night I wanted the feel of the sheets along my body.

My mind ran through a few of the fantasies that provide me with excitement. The movies in my head in which I am the star. I landed here, at this iteration (there are a few different versions) of the one I come back to, over and over.

***********************************************************************************************

I'm in a therapists office. I've come to him because I feel that I masturbate too much. He specializes in sex therapy for women and after a few visits of discussing why I think masturbating at least once every day is too much, he's moved our sessions into more intimate territory. He asks me if I would share a fantasy with him. A masturbation fantasy. Something I use in my head to excite myself.

I'm nervous about telling him, but I also realize I'm excited about it. I begin to tell him a rather tame one I've had where I'm "hired" by a couple who want to watch me masturbate. I tell him how I'm sitting in a chair with my legs spread and up on the arms, touching myself, as they sit on the couch opposite me and watch. I tell him how the man begins to get an erection and I can see it rising up through his robe.

The therapist interrupts me and I realize that I've closed my eyes. He asks me how I'm feeling telling him this. I tell him it's easier with my eyes closed. He wonders if I'm getting excited by relating this to him, and I tell him yes. He asks if that's what I like, being watched. I tell him yes. He asks me to continue.

I proceed on, telling him the details of this couple watching me. How the man eventually removes his robe and begins to stroke his...I stumble a bit. What do I call it? In front of my therapist? Do I say cock? Penis? I simply say erection and my therapist stops me again, noticing my uncertainty.

"What do you call it in your head?"

"Cock" I say.

"Well, unless you're too shy, you should say now what you say in your head."

Okay. I back track and say that the man removes his robe and begins to stroke his cock. I say that while he is watching me masturbate, I am watching him. His wife watches us both and we're all very excited. The therapist stops me again.

"Does this excite you? To watch a man stroke himself?"

Pause.

"Yes."

After a minute of silence, I continue on with my fantasy. My eyes are still closed, except for the times he interrupts me, when I open them and look at him. I'm somewhat embarrassed when I look at him, but not as embarrassed as I thought I would be. And I'm becoming more and more excited. I wonder how much I can continue without having to touch myself. In front of my therapist. But, even thinking that makes me ashamed.

I've been talking all this while, telling him the details of my fantasy, until he stops me again. Again, he checks in on how I'm feeling. He doesn't prompt me, so I just say I'm feeling excited. I say very excited.

"Would you like to masturbate now?"

My eyes fly open and I look right at him. My heart begins to pound and I find I'm a little scared. But also the idea of it is overwhelming. I almost spread my legs on impulse.

"You mean, right now? Here? In front of you?"

"Yes."

That's all he says. Yes. He leaves the rest to me. He looks so passive. Not the predator you would think of a man asking a woman if she wants to expose herself to him. He looks passive and almost clinical. He says nothing as my mind races and I bounce back and forth between all the emotions this brings to me. Fear, excitement, embarrassment, embarrassment at wanting to do it, desire for exposure.

"Okay" I say.

For a moment, we both just sit there. I don't quite know what to do and he seems to be patient to let me figure it out. I take a deep breath and begin to raise my skirt up to my hips. Underneath I have on only panties. I raise my skirt and slowly spread my legs. I am looking down at what I'm doing because I cannot yet look at him. I see that there's a wet spot on my panties and I'm embarrassed by this. I pause and try to decide if I'm going to actually take them off. And then I have a moment of surrender. To myself. To my desire. I want to do this, so I'm going to do it, dammit. I slide them down and off my legs and spread my legs apart.

Feeling the cool of his leather couch on my ass adds to the clinical feel of this whole endeavor. And I like that. This is for evaluative purposes. He wants to watch me so that he can determine something about me. So that he can truly help me.

He's been quiet throughout this, but then says,

"Are you okay?"

"Yes", I say. Looking up for the first time at him. He looks the same as he did the last time I looked at him. Passive. Comfortable in his chair. Looking me in the eye.

"Before we proceed, I want to tell you that I will, and am, going to become excited watching you. It's inevitable. I'm human and this excites me. Will that make you uncomfortable?"

"No", I say quickly. Because it won't, in fact, I quite like the idea. He knows this because of what I admitted from my fantasy a moment ago. I wonder if he wants, in this way, to make my fantasy a reality.

"I may need to" he pauses "attend to myself. I may need to stroke myself while watching you."

"Yes", I say somewhat breathlessly. I find as he's telling me this I've begun to spread my legs wider. He just nods and becomes quiet again. Slowly my hands make their way to my cunt and I begin to rub my clit. I am so wet at this point I'm sure I'm dripping onto his couch. I try to go slowly, I want to drag this out, I don't want to come on impact.

"So, you're masturbating and they're watching you" he prompts. Getting me back to my fantasy.

"Yes", but that is all I can say. My eyes are not closed. I am in this moment, not in my fantasy anymore. My eyes are open, my legs are spread, my cunt is dripping and exposed and I am looking right at him.

He sense this and just watches me. Our eyes are locked until, slowly, he lowers his eyes and watches my hands. I realize that is what I've wanted. I want him to watch me. I lower my left hand and spread my labia apart to expose my clit to my finger. An involuntary moan leaves my throat and I see him take a deep breath as he watches.

My eyes close for a minute as I become immersed in the pleasure and the excitement of this whole experience. I'm aware of him, but also need a moment to just feel myself. To feel my hands on myself. To feel how good it feels to be watched. By my therapist.

My reverie is broken by the sound of his zipper. I gasp a little as I realize what he's doing. I've not opened my eyes yet. I want to wait. After a moment I open them and see him sitting now rather upright in his chair with his erect cock in his hand. Slowly stroking up and down. And now I watch him. And we watch each other and the excitement and heat in the room is palpable.

Suddenly, as if overcome, he stands. His pants fall to the ground and he steps out of them. Slowly, still stroking his cock, he walks towards me.

"Can I be closer to you?"

"Yes...yes."

He comes so close he is almost touching the edge of the couch. His cock is close to me. I could almost lift up and pull it into my mouth. I am tempted to, but I resist. No, that's not for here.

I stop what I'm doing and quickly unbutton my blouse and remove it. I unhook my bra and remove it. I cup my breasts and squeeze my nipples.

"I want you to come on my tits."

He takes a quick step back and stops his motion.

"I don't know."

"Yes, I want that. Please."

I resume my attentions to my throbbing cunt and impulsively plunge one, then two, fingers into my hole. He sees this and begins again to stroke his cock. Now faster and in time to my motion. He steps forward again and we're so close. So synchronized. Our motions and emotions in tune to this moment of sharing our pleasure.

Stepping forward even more, I know he is going to come. I sit up straight and push my tits forward for him.

"Please."

With a wild moan at the back of his throat he pushes his hips forward and directs his stream of come onto my chest. Spurting over and over, groaning with release, I am overwhelmed and come with a loud cry.

"Oh, yes."

Time stands still for that moment and there's nothing in the room but our breathing and the smell of our sex.

Then he steps back and turning towards his chair begins to put himself to rights and dress. I grab the tissues and clean myself off and also begin to dress. When we're both somewhat together he sits back down and we sit in the silence. It's not uncomfortable.

"We've shared something that I think will benefit our work together greatly." he says quietly.

I smile and nod. Slowly I gather my things and stand. He stands as well and we both head towards the door. Putting his hand on my shoulder he leans in and softly kisses my cheek.

"You can call me if you need to." he says.

I nod acknowledgement.

"Otherwise, I'll see you next week."

***********************************************************************************

I Missed It!

2008-02-06T11:37:00.002-05:00

I can't believe it, but I missed my anniversary here! Too distracted.

On Febuary 2, 2007 I posted an introduction and my very first blog post here at Paradise Tied Up. It's been a full and changing year and much of it was recorded here.

The friends and acquaintances I've made through this blog, and others, have been invaluable. You've been honest and open and funny and complimentary. I appreciate every comment made and the dialogue we've had.

Thank you for sticking with me, for listening, and for helping me to continue to open and unfold and discover my sexual self.

Party Reprised

2008-02-03T16:31:00.000-05:00

They were there. My lovely, young couple that I played with at the last party. We were all glad to see each other and ended up spending much of the evening together, and not just on our backs, as it were. We chatted and danced a bit and enjoyed each others company.

Until a spot became available and he grabbed it. It was very crowded in the back of the room, every square foot of vertical space was taken for most of the night. We had been hovering some, waiting fairly patiently. Once we moved into our space she leaned in and kissed me for all she was worth. She'd been waiting for that, I think. Laying me back and attacking my pussy as if it was something she'd been anticipating with glee. And he was behind her. Watching. Fucking her. She didn't for a moment become distracted by his ministrations from those she was plying on me. A testament to her desire. She lapped and sucked and fucked me with the glee of a child with a new toy.

Then he was next to me. His hands somewhat roughly pulling my lace bra down and exposing my nipples. He pinched and squeezed and pulled them like a man who knew how I wanted it. He seemed to and I wondered how. Transparent, I am. I looked up at him as he reached into his briefs and pulled out his cock. I grabbed it and began to stroke him. I licked my hand to supply lubrication making my hand a tunnel into which his cock entered. I so wanted him in my mouth, but the angle wasn't right. So, instead, he forcefully pushed his finger into my mouth. Wordlessly commanding me to suck. It was at that moment she pushed her fingers in just right and pressed her tongue with the perfect pressure on my clit. My back arched and I moaned my climax aloud.

To the left of us a few people were watching and I heard a man say, "They're hot!". Perfect words for an exhibitionist to hear.

Note: I haven't forgotten the tag, LG. I'll get to it.

And So It Goes

2008-01-29T09:27:00.000-05:00

Not to directly insult my male friends and readers, but men really do suck. There's a point at which they can't have a conversation, or say an honest word, or even communicate.

The Latin has disappeared. This was, I suppose, predictable to some degree. A mutual friend confirms that he is unreliable and can be completely ass-hatted. There's nothing to be done but move on and reflect.

Initially, when I realized that the silence was fairly lodged in the here and now, I, like so many women before me, wondered what is wrong with me. What have I done? What have I not done? And on and on... You've heard this from me before so I won't subject you to my singularly cruel self-denigration.

But, after I spoke to my friend who knows him and assured me this is not surprising behavior for him, I felt better.

So, well, at least I had a few weeks of some great sex. And interesting conversation.

Now, it's on to a party. Saturday night. I mean, I have to take my clothes off for someone!

A New Appreciation for Cunnilingus

2008-01-23T14:50:00.000-05:00

I've never been a huge fan of cunnilingus. I know most women won't understand that because it's one of the things so many like the most. And the men who enjoy performing it won't understand why a woman wouldn't want it.

I'm not sure what my borderline aversion to it has been, exactly. Maybe the people who have performed it on me have lacked skill.** Sometimes I think it's gratuitous. I think they are doing it because they think they should (which would explain a lack of skill). Even when someone has given me a fair amount of pleasure, I would tire of it quickly. I want something else, something more, something big.

I believe, though, that I may have met someone who can change my mind about this. He clearly enjoys the work at hand. He is attentive and, it feels, appreciative of the dish presented to him. He takes his time. He's in no hurry to reach the "goal", but instead explores all the other nooks and crannies available. His tongue is soft when it needs to be and hard when necessary. His fingers are in no way absent from the proceedings.

All in all, it's very enjoyable and I've begun to actually crave it. But, then, it's not just his tongue I crave.

** I want to point out that women are included in this group of skill-less lickers. There's a fallacy that because a woman is doing things to another woman it will be fantastic and perfect because, as a woman, you must know what your partner wants. This is patently a myth. Some of my very worst lovers have been women. They may know what it feels like to receive, but they clearly have no idea how to bestow the same. In fact, the most boring sex I've had has been with women.

Note 01/25/08: Shay has a very clever picture up on her site today that is appropriate to this post so I thought I'd point it out. Mathematics indeed! Check it out.

Easy Post Friday or Being Tagged

2008-01-18T08:45:00.000-05:00

Rupert up at the Chateau has tagged me and since I'm rather barren of words these days I'll take the opportunity to both a) write about sex and b) not have to think too much about what to write and still provide you with a post. Nice!

1.) What's the largest thing you've ever put in your ass?
Well, I didn't put it in, but I guess I'd have to say a cock. Although, luckily for me, it wasn't a very big one.

2.) What's the oddest object you've put inside your body(ass/pussy)?
I really had to give this some thought. I'm not one of those folks who tried toothbrush or hairbrush handles when I was young (or even now!). A carrot, I guess. In my cunt.

3.) What's the most public place you've ever had sex?
Other than a sex club and a sex party with 150 people? A Dead show.

4.) Are you naughtier in your head than you are in your bed?
Most definitely. I think this fantasy is quite naughty and I'm fairly certain it will never happen.

5.) Masturbating - what do you call it?
Um, masturbating. In fact, the word itself kind of turns me on.

6.) Would you, could you, in a car? On the highway? In a bar?
I have done it in a car, on the highway, in a bar! I have done it merrily, it is so good, so good you see!

7.) What do you think is your most sexually attractive feature?
I think my lips. I have somewhat full, soft, kissable lips and it's one of my very most favorite thing to do for hours and hours.

8.) What do other people think is your most sexually attractive feature?
I've been told I should consider being a sex phone operator on the side for extra money, so I guess my voice.

9.) Do you have an instant turn-on spot on your body? If yes, where is it?
My neck. Kiss my neck in the right way, soft and moist, and I'm yours instantly.

10.) Is there anything you want to do that you're too chicken to try?
It's so hard to say. I used to think I would never in my life give a strange man a blow-job in a sex club surrounded by people, including his wife. So, I think anything I say I'm chicken to do I'll end up doing anyway. :)

I'll turn it around and tag LG down south and that's it. My other blogger "friends" who haven't been tagged already aren't really survey types. I'm sure LG will give answers enough for a few. :)

A Snippet...

2008-01-15T15:14:00.000-05:00

Well, nitebyrd's comment in my last post has compelled me to write and say, at the least, hello. I know I've been disturbingly silent and I apologize. Other than the exhaustion from being so thoroughly fucked, work is kicking my ass right now.

I'll tell you this though, my guy has a great cock. Really. First of all, he's cut, and I admit to a preference there. And he's thick. Nice and thick. Fills me up perfectly. He's not particularly long (I haven't broken out the ruler, so I can't give you true dimension), but trust me when I say he's long enough. I'm not very good at deep throat, but I can tell by his reaction that the depth to which I can "swallow" him whole, which is not the full length of his cock, works very well.

I have a bit of a desire to give him a trim because he's a bit hairy in that area. He's not particularly hairy in general, though, which is good because I don't care for that (I know, I'm picky about things, what can I say?). I'll either broach the topic at some point when we're more comfortable, or I'll just get used to it. Probably the latter.

Well, there you go. A little something to tide you over until my time is more my own. Right now, it's back to work....

¿Por qué el silencio?

2008-01-09T09:14:00.000-05:00

It's been quiet in Paradise, I know. Luckily, for me anyway, it's not because my libido is on strike this time.

I've met someone. Someone I've known, actually, for a long time. Well, known is too strong. We've been in the same place at the same time on numerous occasions because we have people in common. For some reason, and really who cares what, we noticed each other on New Years Eve.

We had a great time talking and dancing and generally being like, "Huh, you look different to me and I can't tell why." At the end of the party we went home together and had great sex. Really great sex. We seem to be compatible in that way and it's lovely. And we want more. Of everything.

The silence is because I haven't really wanted to give details about the "Really great sex" and, I'm sorry to say, I probably won't. This is different. This is not an internet ghost. This is a real person, a real man, with whom I seem to be developing a real relationship. We saw each other yesterday for a lovely walk in the freakishly warm weather we had and have plans to see each other again twice this week. So, this, my friends, is for real. This is closer to my heart. What we've shared has been intimate. It's sex and then some.

I'm feeling protective of our time together. Protective and maybe a little superstitious. I don't want to bare all and then if it falls apart feel like I jinxed it. I feel a little like I might be jinxing it right now, but I actually have more confidence in this than I have in anything for the past couple of years. This is the difference between someone who has real history with people I know and someone who has appeared from the internet out of thin air, where there's no paper trail, so to speak.

It may not stay this way and I could become inclined to share some detail here and there. Maybe a little, maybe a lot. There's no telling. But, for now, I'm playing this close to the vest.

It doesn't mean the end of Paradise, though. I still have many fantasies that are just dying to be recorded here. As with all my writing, inspiration is all.

* The reason for the Spanish title to this post? He's Latin. Just imagine! A Latin lover. mmmm....

Hitting 100!

2007-12-31T11:59:00.000-05:00

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

2007-12-30T00:40:00.000-05:00

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

2007-12-28T13:46:00.000-05:00

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

2007-12-23T12:44:00.000-05:00

Wishing you all a Very Merry and Sexy Christmas!

Love,

Eve

The Age Old Question...

2007-12-21T13:44:00.000-05:00

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

2007-12-18T17:58:00.000-05:00

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?

2007-12-15T11:37:00.000-05:00

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

2007-12-13T17:15:00.000-05:00

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

2007-12-06T16:44:00.000-05:00

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

2007-12-03T11:50:00.000-05:00

"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

A Message?

2007-11-30T09:10:00.000-05:00

The fellow I went to the club with last weekend sent me an e-mail (not out of the blue, we'd been having a conversation...about restaurants) and attached was this picture without an explanation:

I wrote back and asked him if there were a message in this? Or, if I had been bad - already?

What do you think?

The only thing I didn't like about this picture was the name - "SmackMyBitchUp". I hope there's no message in THAT!

HNT - November 29

2007-11-29T22:13:00.001-05:00

I'll let you use your imagination with this one.

Happy HNT!

The Therapy that is Sex (not to be confused with Sex Therapy)

2007-11-29T12:46:00.001-05:00

I couldn't decide if I should tell my therapist that I'd gone to a sex club. I wavered back and forth between telling her and discussing it (although in how much detail would be another question) or not telling her. In which case, what would I talk about? Since that's what's on my mind.

I still hadn't decided by the time I got to her office. We started with the usual chitchat and whatnot. And then I blurted out, "I don't know whether to tell you something or not." Well, clearly, I had made up my mind.

I realized that telling her or not telling her wasn't a decision I had trouble making because she was my therapist, but simply because it's a decision I'll make with everyone. There are people I'll tell easily, knowing they'll get a kick out of it and we'll have a fun conversation, and people whom I will never in a million years tell. And then some, like my therapist, with whom I'll be on the fence about sharing.

So, I told her in detail how it all came about, my going in the first place, and in not so much detail the events that transpired. She knows I engaged in sexual activity with the guy I went with and probably assumes I engaged in sexual activity with other people at the club. I alluded to that, without coming out and saying I sucked some guys cock while his girlfriend and his wife watched, etc.

My therapist is brilliant. And I don't mean that in an intellectual way. She is emotionally brilliant. Once I told her I knew it was right. She has no judgments about it. Or, about me. She knows I lean towards being submissive. We've discussed it and discussed some possible psychological reasons as to why I prefer to give up control. We have these conversations all without bias. And I would know. I don't care how good a therapist, or even actor, a person is, if there's a judgment, you can tell.

In this discussion I realized that I really liked going to a sex club. I look forward to going to more and other similar activities. I'm at a point in my life where I have a need to push my boundaries. To expand myself and my limits. And to share that expansion with like minded people. To surround myself with similar players. We are mirrors for one another and when in the company of people who reflect how you feel, it becomes an environment of growth.

Constant growth. Constant change. It really is what I strive for in my life. A week or so ago I was down. Very down. I go there sometimes. To that pit. Sometimes I can get myself out, sometimes I need help. But, it's not a place I'm unfamiliar with. I also know that if I never went there, if I never saw or experienced that dark side of myself, I would be stagnant. It compels me to change and to grow. You can't fall down without having to figure out how you're going to get yourself up.

Being sexually adventurous is new to me only in just this past year. It's new and exciting and a little scary. I'm excited to have found a new element. A new venue. A new adventure.

A Fond, and Sad, Farewell

2007-11-28T14:58:00.000-05:00

We bid au revoir to our good friend Roper from Confessions of an English Gentleman. He's decided to shut down his blog for personal and security reasons. His words and insights will be sorely missed.

Ciao, for now.

The Club

2007-11-27T00:12:00.000-05:00

"I want to go watch them."

"Oh, I don't know. They look pretty private, over there."

"It's a sex club, there's nothing private about it. Come."

He grabbed my arm and pulled me up from the couch we were on and, giving me no choice really, led me over to another couch on the other side of the room. It was at an L shape with the couch occupied by a man and his 2 women. I say this because it had already been explained to us that this man was with his wife and his girlfriend. At the moment, one of his women, the brunette, was kneeling between his legs and sucking his cock. His rather excellent cock, I might add. Thick and long and cut and hard and...

So, we watched as her head bobbed up and down, making his cock appear and disappear, making his head loll to the back of the sofa and his eyes close as he got lost in the pleasure. The other woman, the blond, sat to the right of him. After a bit he turned towards her and kissed her as he continued to be serviced by the brunette.

We sat on the couch and watched this scene in the semi-darkness of the club as the music pounded downstairs on the dance floor. Other couples wandered in and watched a while, too. People came and went, watching, touching, focus shifting and shifting back again.

"I want you to suck his cock. I want to watch you suck his cock."

"Oh, I don't know. I mean..."

He walked over to the group and, leaning in towards the man, whispered something in his ear. The man looked over to me and nodded. Oh no, I thought. Oh no.

"Get up."

As I got up and was led towards the trio, the brunette got up and moved over to the left making room for me. I was nervous and not the least of which to find that these women would not be very happy at this intrusion. I knelt between his knees and looked up into his eyes, which were a warm, deep brown and he gave me a little lascivious smile. Somewhat tentatively, I put my hand around his cock and pulled it into my mouth.

And then I felt her hand on the back of my head. Stroking my hair and then my back, and then down to my bottom. Her face close to mine as I sucked and licked and sucked her mans cock. I pulled my mouth up and off his cock for just a moment, my hand still stroking up and down and in just that second she pulled my face towards her and kissed me. A soft, deep kiss, her tongue pushing insistently into my mouth. Even through the the music, I could hear him moan his approval as he watched.

I gently pulled away and continued my ministrations to his increasingly large erection. Now tasting a bit of precum. And, I was joined by her mouth. Mine on his cock-head, her tongue licking up and down the shaft. Every now and then our tongues would touch, our lips would meet, our focus shifting back and forth from each other to our task.

Through the stupor of my excitement I finally noticed that her shirt was raised up and her breasts were exposed. Her man had a hand on her nipple and was pinching it. In between licking or sucking his cock, in between me guiding it into her mouth, she would stop and her eyes would close and I could hear a little gasp of breath as he pinched just a little harder.

I stopped for a moment to breath and found another pair of lips meeting mine. He had pushed the head of the blond woman on his right down towards us and we kissed, her and I. More soft kisses, more hot tongue swirling in my mouth. More cock.

I don't know how long this lasted. Not long enough, certainly. I wasn't there when he came and don't know who dealt the last blow, so to speak. But, I will remember and relive those moments, in a dark and noisy club with 3 strangers I'll never see again, as some of the most exciting in my life.

Gone, But Not Forgotten

2007-11-24T17:54:00.000-05:00

This blog has taken a decided turn towards the non-sexual, of late. Well, mostly. Maybe I should qualify that and say that it's turned away from being graphically sexual. And, turned away sounds like I'm shunning it. I'm not. What am I trying to say?

I miss writing about sex. I miss writing the nasty, smut filled, hot and moist prose that were the impetus for this blog. I miss writing about it, I miss thinking about it, I miss having it, I miss being charged by it. When I began this blog I was obsessed. I was a woman on a mission (or a rampage). I wanted sex, all the time, with almost anyone. Well, I'm pickier than that. But, at the time, not so much. I had a constant hum in my cunt. A continuous buzz and I was always wet. I could hardly focus on day-to-day activities and tried to arrange my day-to-day activities to be about sex. It was all I could do not to masturbate numerous times throughout the day. Sometimes, I would.

And the sex I wanted was not run-of-the-mill. I wanted hard, aggressive, painful sex. I wanted to be taken. Spanked, exposed, inspected, and hurt.

It's what I still want, really. I could never tolerate being "owned", but I want someone who will use me. Regularly. Use me and love me.

So, even though I'm not writing much these days about it, and even though I'm not really thinking about it much, either (depression has a way of nullifying sex drive), it's there. I haven't become vanilla (although, I admit, if I fell in love with someone and he couldn't go to these places, I would let it go).

I guess there's hope (whaddaya know). Even just briefly writing this for you now stirs something in me. A little bit.

Epilogue, or somewhere in the middle

2007-11-17T09:29:00.000-05:00

It's so hard not to wonder what it was I did that drove him away. I knew it that morning. The morning we got up, after fucking again, we sat with coffee and tea for a while talking, he took a shower, and got on the train to go home. I knew it then. I knew before he got on the subway when he gave me a tight lipped, close mouthed peck goodbye. I sensed something had changed. But I didn't know what.

So I started to go over it in my mind. Every detail (that I could remember - I had drank a bit) of what was said and done in the hours he was here. In the weeks before that night as we worked our way into bed. I remembered his enthusiasm. He seemed genuinely interested in me. We talked about our lives and things and it was close and intimate. And we kissed a lot and that was amazing. And he obviously wanted more.

Until he didn't want any. Was it something I said? Was it the coffee - I'm a tea drinker, so maybe my coffee was really awful? Was it my apartment? My bed? My cat? Where I live? My body? My body. It could have been my body. As I said in the other post, I'm okay. I look pretty damn good for 48. But I look better with clothes on, it's just the truth. I'm not fat, but I'm not toned, either. I'm a bit flabby. I have an unattractive ass. My tits sag a bit (although they're really not too bad).

But maybe that's what it was. He expected something else. The outside package promised something that, once opened, didn't deliver.

I go over and over in my head what it could have been. The truth is I'll never know. He won't answer my e-mails or phone calls (not that I'm badgering him with both, but it's been 3 days). He is now among the disappeared.

I know someone out there is going to say 3 days isn't a long time, but in fact it is, isn't it? Think about it. You've spent a couple of weeks talking to someone almost everyday. Talking and flirting and getting together and kissing and walking hand-in-hand and then talking some more. And then you fuck. And then it's so quiet you could hear a water drop. It may not sound like a long time, but in comparison to what preceeded it, it's eternity.

The truth is I just don't know if I can do this anymore. If I can keep doing the meet and greet thing. Getting to know people. Feeling like there's a connection, only to find it was a short lived one. Only to end up feeling like there's something seriously wrong with me. I can't do it anymore. I'm exhausted. I'm too old for this. How about that. I'm not the resilient 20-something who can bounce back with hope for the next one. I don't really have that hope. There aren't too many next ones for me. It's just reality.

If I have to spend the rest of my life alone, I'd rather not spend it at all. It feels so pathetic. Going out with friends all the time. Always being at a movie or dinner with a girlfriend. A middle aged girlfriend. Two middle aged women alone. It's so obvious we're single. It feels so obvious. I can't stand it.

Having had even the couple of weeks with him where, when out, we walked hand in hand, or my arm in his, makes the absence of it so profound. It makes me realize how much I miss it. Belonging to someone and knowing someone belongs to me.

I know this is pathetic. But, you know what? This is my blog and I feel pathetic. This is what I have to say right now. It's eating at me so I have to write it out. You don't have to read it.

You may also think that I was somehow smothering or too clingy, but be assured that wasn't the case at all. In fact, when we were together, he was the one always touching me. My hands over the table. Holding hands while walking. Flirting on the phone or e-mails or chats. I'm not a clingy person. I admit, I can be a bit insecure, but this disappearing act is why.

Remember when you were first in love with someone? That feeling that you couldn't get enough of them? You wanted to spend every minute somehow connected? You felt connected, even when you weren't together. And then, when you were together, you had to touch them in some way. A hand on their leg, or arm, or hand. Or even just leaning against them, and they against you. Kissing all the time, fucking as often as you could.

That's what I want again. That's what I thought I'd found.

I guess I'm too old for that now. I guess I can never really have that again. Maybe it's too adolescent. Too idealistic. I guess at 48 it's unrealistic to think it's even possible. The most I can hope for, if I can hope for anything at all, is someone I like spending time with. Someone I can talk to. Someone I don't mind kissing. Or fucking.

I guess I'd better start to realize that, unless I want to be alone forever, I will have to settle for someone. That just breaks my heart.

Prologue

2007-11-17T09:25:00.000-05:00

This is a post I put on my other blog somewhere in the middle of last night. I've decided it's okay to put here.

This is about writing instead of doing something stupid. Something regrettable. I've done millions of regrettable things in my life, and contemplated the most regrettable too many times.

So, am I thinking I'd like to die? Yup. I am. I know, it's crazy. But, haven't we all felt it at one time or another? That life simply wasn't worth living? That, given the alternative (living), death seemed preferable? Of course we have. I guess I've just considered it maybe a little more than others.

It runs in the family, what can I say.

I'm 48 years old.

Forty Eight Years Old.

I've been single for 6 years. No, more than 6 years. Six years and 4 months. I've dated. I've probably been on hundreds of dates in the last six years. Maybe not hundreds, tens anyway. Maybe 50. Maybe more than 50. Regardless, I've been on lots of dates. I've introduced myself and told my boring story about where I live and what I do and what my life has been like so many times I'm thinking I should write up a little laminated card to give out at the beginning of a date. It would be so much easier. Quicker. Less boring, maybe even. For me, at least.

Maybe that's it. Maybe I'm boring. Of course, I don't think I am, but maybe I really am. My friends seem to think I'm okay. Although, I don't have that many friends anymore. Mostly because we've just gone our separate ways. Them usually to marriage and parenthood. Me to, well, to this, I guess. I am boring.

I'm 48 years old. I look pretty good for my age. Although, not as good as last year. I'm aging. It's true. It's a fact I can't escape. I have an okay body. It's not great. I'm not fat by any stretch, but I'm not toned especially, either. I try. I go to the gym. But it doesn't happen as quickly as it once did. I'm a little flabby. I've lost and gained and lost lots of weight in my life. This shows in my body.

This too, I'm sure, would drive someone away. Someone who has aspirations of sleeping with a 40-something woman more like Teri Hatcher, let's say, or the woman on CSI, Marg Helgenberger, I think her name is. I don't look like them. So, if someone were expecting that, they'd be disappointed.

And so, before me, lies the great expanse of life. Of however many years I may live. Could be a year, could be less, could be 40. It's a great expanse no matter how long it is and contemplating living it alone is dreadful, frankly. Dreadful. My mother lived most of her adult life alone. I don't want that. I don't want my mothers life, but somehow I've gotten it. Or seem to have.

I'd rather die than live my mothers life.

My heart does literally hurt. I haven't lost love, well not just now. I maybe haven't lost anything at all. Except maybe my pride, which I don't have a tremendous amount of anyway. I've lost hope. That's what it is, really. I've lost hope. Defeated. I feel utterly defeated. Like I've been fighting the last 6 years. Well, I haven't been fighting for a relationship, but it is a struggle, somehow. It shouldn't be.

And of course, one wonders what one is doing wrong. Or what is wrong with oneself. My flaws are, of course, numerous. Maybe too numerous. Maybe I should try to identify them and eradicate as many as possible.

Maybe I shouldn't take it all so personally. But how the fuck do you not take it personally? How can I possibly detach myself from rejection? On some level, some very sick and sad level, I've gotten used to it. To being rejected and being disappointed. What awful things to get used to.

And maybe that's a sign that I'm doing something wrong. That I'm taking the wrong approach. I just think I'm too something. Or not enough of something else. Over and over.

And that's not to say I haven't done a share of rejection, myself. There's definitely been love interests that I did not find interesting. I have a friend who thinks that maybe I'm a tad too picky. I'm not entirely sure what he means by that, except that when he mentions it I always think that if I settled for less than what I wanted, what would I have gained?

If anyone's actually reading this you're probably wondering when I'm going to shut up.

Any minute now...

Hallelujah!

2007-11-12T09:04:00.000-05:00

All I have to say is this - last night and this morning, I was fucked four glorious, cunt filled, orgasm producing times.

I used to think older men (meaning men my age) had performance issues. Now I think that's an urban myth. Well, maybe not a myth. Because I have had that experience. But not last night. Oh, no. Definitely not.

I'm going to toddle off to bed now for a morning nap so I can function sometime today. Sweet dreams, indeed.

To Out or not to Out...Myself

2007-11-11T11:43:00.000-05:00

The difference between insomnia and staying up late is, of course, intention. Staying up late is reading till you can't keep your eyes open, watching TV till you've had enough of the inanity, talking on the phone till you're literally too tired to flirt. Insomnia is turning the light off at midnight and, at 2 a.m., finding yourself awake enough to open your eyes and stare into the semi-darkness. Last night I was in a state of the latter.

And I thought, well, maybe I'll get up and write a bit. In my blog. But which one? I have another, you see, that I've not mentioned here before. It's a myspace blog, on my myspace page. Another thing I haven't mentioned here before. There's lots of things I haven't discussed here, and I'm beginning to find it increasingly difficult to keep my "two" lives...no not lives, personas?...separate. I wanted to write about insomnia and the chatter in my head and masturbation and maybe my family and, and, and...

And, therein lies the dilemma. In one blog (this one) I can discuss my thoughts and feelings up to a point. A very specific and identifying point. In my other blog (myspace) I can talk about more details of my life, but I wouldn't at all mention masturbating, or being really horny, or not being horny, or anything sexual except for vague inuendo. For the first time, last night, I found myself to be frustrated by this. I've discussed this here to some degree, merely questioning the two aspects of my life and how they may or may not overlap. At that point, I wasn't particularly frustrated or feeling the need to merge these two forums, just curious about them. That's changed.

I keep a journal (paper - be aghast!) and that's a place where much of these aspects of my life blend. But my journal is not a place where I take care and concern about the writing itself. The blog(s) are kept as a way to communicate, but also as a way to hone my writing skills. My grammer, my wit (I'm assuming something here), my insight, etc. Sharing it with you forces me to do that. And, there is the exhibitionist in me that's wants to expose myself, my sexual self, to you in a way that's satisfyingly literate.

So, what to do. Perhaps nothing. Maybe all I needed to do, at this point, was to talk this out. I'm very clear that there's a line I can't (read: won't) cross as far as identifying details of my life. It's a risk I won't take. As it is I worry that should I die suddenly, my journals (the paper one's) will be discovered. And read. There are simply things I'd rather my family and some of my closest friends didn't know about me. Details of my thoughts and desires that would, in a word, squig them out. But, that's another dilemma for me to contend with.

In the meantime, I stay anonymous (in this blog). It gives me the freedom to write out my desires and needs. And my frustrations in the detail that's necessary to excorcise them.

Now, about insomnia and masturbation...

Erotic Personality

2007-11-01T14:42:00.000-04:00

Here's something that is not in the least bit surprising.

I found this quiz at Remittance Girls blog.

I took Sage Vivant's Erotic Personality Quiz and discovered I'm a Romantic!

What is your Erotic Personality? Find out now..

Here's what it says about me:

The Romantic can think of nothing more erotic than being saved from peril. They are not necessarily helpless people, but the notion of being saved makes them feel desirable and sexy. The Romantic needs to feel sought-after and practically worshipped before sex can be on the agenda. They imagine partners who not only make passionate love to them soon after saving them, but they imagine those partners will know how to please them without any instruction whatsoever. Their lover’s sexual finesse inspires their own, heightening their capacity for sexual pleasure. The Romantic is especially fond of people who can read their minds and deliver the sexual excitement that they secretly desire.

And I wonder why I'm single.

And according to this I'm not really submissive. They describe "The Bottom" as the submissive. Whatever.

Happy Halloween

2007-10-31T10:46:00.000-04:00

I haven't been very prolific of late. Sorry to anyone who wishes I had more to say (that includes me!). Something will come along/come out eventually. I've been in a bit of a funk. Call it a mid-life crisis, if you will. And, trust me, you don't want to hear about it.

So, in the meantime, I tried to find a sexy Halloween costume picture for you and I have to say they are mostly pretty dumb. But, I did find this and, were I going to a sexy Halloween party, I might have attempted it. Even though I wouldn't look anything like her.

Anyway, Happy Halloween. Dress up and have fun!

I found the costume here.

Belated Birthday Present

2007-10-24T10:53:00.000-04:00

Chat with new found friend who responded to an ad I put on craigslist that had nothing to do with spanking and had no BDSM related reference, but was specific to a certain interest.

Me: "I'm XX [insert age], now. Just a couple weeks ago."

He: "those birthday spanks are really adding up now aren't they, lol"

Me: "haha - yes. Sadly, I didn't get any. :("

He: "no birthday spanks? oh so sorry to hear"

Me: "I know. I just couldn't find anyone appropriate to help me out with that."

He: "did your lack of birthday spanks prompt this ad, just had to ask"

Me: "Well, no birthday spanking was a little bit of a motivating factor, but really, it was the [insert motivating factor for ad]."

E-mail a couple of days later:

He: "Wish I met you before your birthday so I could have ensured you got your required spanks in!!! LOL"

Me: "Well, there's no saying you can't give me a belated b'day present."

He: "ya think?"

Now, I just want to mention that all this spanking talk was not at my instigation. It was at his. And, it's not the only thing we talked about. We seem to have much in common.

Maybe I just attract them, somehow? Dominant men? I'd like to hope so.

HNT - October 18

2007-10-18T00:12:00.001-04:00

I haven't done HNT in a long time and I thought I would. Just to keep you coming back for more.

Freedom

2007-10-13T11:20:00.001-04:00

Since my sex life is somewhat limited and quiet these days, I was telling a friend that I didn't have much fodder for writing in my blog. He suggested I make things up to write about and I realized that that's essentially what I do when I report my fantasies here. When I confess what it is that makes me drip and throb and, ultimately, masturbate. And come.

Because, what are fantasies but made up stories we tell ourselves to get ourselves off? Sometimes they come true. Often they don't. Often, we don't really want them to. Because then what would we think of? Where would our minds roam?

I don't often think of real life events when I'm masturbating and fantasizing. Even things that have happened that are extremely exciting to me and that I want to have happen again. Even if it's something I previously fantasized about that has been made manifest. Once it's happened, it's out of my head and in the realm of reality.

I may, though, bring elements of that real experience into my fantasy and either elaborate on it or alter it to make it a new fantasy.

For instance, after He watched me masturbate, I began to fantasize about something similar, but with twists. Sometimes there are other people in the fantasy watching me. Sometimes there are toys involved, a vibrator in my cunt, a plug in my ass. Sometimes the things he says are different. Sometimes he isn't even He, but someone else entirely. (As I've alluded to before, I have a long standing therapist fantasy - someday I'll write it out.) So then, the reality becomes the fantasy, embellished upon.

What I'm getting at is the freedom we have, the fluidity that exists, in making our stories reality and making reality our stories. Plucking from our perverted minds all the deviant ways in which we think we'd like to be used or use. Some people, I'm sure, have vanilla fantasies, but of course that's not what I'm talking about here. I don't know that I've ever had a vanilla fantasy. Something that didn't involve some kind of kink, or perceived kink. Being watched while masturbating is, I'm sure to some, quite kinky. I think it's pretty mainstream, so I guess that's as close to vanilla as I get.

So, when my friend suggested I make something up to write for you I realized that, in effect, is mostly what I do. Yes, you've heard a bit about my real life adventures, but the majority of what is in this blog has come directly out of my head. The pictures I view with my eyes closed and my fingers on my clit.

I lay on my bed, legs spread in some position of accommodation, my right hand rubbing and pulling the wetness up from my seeping cunt, my left hand spreading my large, swollen lips to thoroughly expose my hard, needy clit. This is what you might see were you to happen upon me (and hopefully punish me for being such a naughty, dirty girl). What you don't see is the action that pushes me towards my climax. The story I'm telling myself, the movie I'm playing, in which I'm the protagonist. I'm the star to whom all manner of use, abuse, or exposure is being performed.

This is the freedom we have to bring ourselves pleasure. I can only hope as I relate my inner drama to you, that it brings you some measure of gratification, as well.

Love Our Lurkers Day

2007-10-12T09:15:00.000-04:00

Apparently, today is dedicated to enticing the lurkers from their lairs and encouraging them to leave a little hello, just to let us know you read.

I don't have thousands of readers, as Bonnie on My Bottom Smarts seems to, but I do have maybe a hundred or so that I believe are regulars and I'd love to hear from you.

Being the quasi-exhibitionist that I am, I'd love to know you're watching me. And even how it affects you, if you feel inclined to share (but don't feel you have to say anything other than "hey").

If you think what I have to say is sexy enough, or interesting enough, to make you come over and over, I'd love to watch...I mean, I'd love to know you're out there.

To Be Or Not To Be...

2007-10-08T19:27:00.000-04:00

I texted, "Hi".

"Who is this"

"Who do you think it is silly boy"

"Huh no clue who this is sorry"

"U dont know my #? im insulted"

"sorry"

"look for my im"

"Who is this"

"im ur dream girl"

"who is this"

"listen to ur voicemail and ull know"

voicemail message: "you silly boy, no-one makes you cum like I do..."

text: "My cum whore eve!"

I walked the rest of the way home with a sly and knowing smile on my face. No-one would have guessed that I was gloating to myself that my boy called me a whore and I was tickled.

There are a select few who can call me whore (his whore) or slut (his slut) and I'm aroused and thrilled. To my ears, it can be an endearment. It's a "sweetie" or a "hon". Or it can be an accusation, something said with knowledge for what I need. My need to be used, my need for depravity, my need for cock.

I was reminded of this interchange by Figleafs post about an incoming e-mail he received advertising "Cock-Hungry Whores". He wonders if there are people who are cock-hungry who may not fall under the category of "whore". I comment that I fall into that group. A "regular" woman with a strong craving for cock. But, I also know that for certain people, at certain times, I most certainly fall into the category of whore. And I wear that badge with pride.

All Quiet on the Eastern Front

2007-10-04T08:53:00.000-04:00

Just a quick note to say I haven't disappeared. Work has got me in it's entirely non-sexual clutches and writing has been on the back burner. My time will be somewhat my own soon and my thoughts will have the freedom to wander where they will. (So will my hands...)

Timing is Everything

2007-09-23T23:35:00.000-04:00

Apparently, anal sex is in the air. Or, the water? Or, it's a Fall thing? Or it's just plain hot!

Whatever the case, Madeline Glass of Madeline in the Mirror so very kindly picked this story written by yours truly for the Fleshbot Sexblog RoundUp for this week.

Also, check out the other stories she chose for this most excitingly decadent of topics. I'm honored to be in the erotic company of some of the most prolific, respected and sexy bloggers around.

Thank you, Madeline!

Check-up

2007-09-13T23:33:00.001-04:00

I've never had doctor fantasies, and yet lately I've had one that I have no idea where it came from. Thin air. I have had a long standing therapist fantasy, but this is very different. It strikes me as a little funny, in a way. It seems so cliche. But, what are our fantasies but enhancements of reality?

Actually, I've had very few male doctors. Huh - maybe this is why.

**************************************************************************************

So, I'm at the doctors. The gynecologist, of course. I'm told to undress completely, by the nurse, and to lay on the table with my feet in the stirrups. The nurse, by the way, is a woman. Is she in what I would call a nurses porno outfit? Short skirt, too tight top with cleavage spilling out all over. As a matter of fact, she is.

In walks the doctor. He's rather handsome, in his 40's or 50's, very professional in his manner. Almost perfunctory. He stands between my legs and gets right to work. He begins by examining my labia, touching my lips, pulling them apart, making sure everything's okay.

His manner is very routine, he's doing his job, but his hands tell something else. The way he touches me is very sexual. Obviously trying to arouse me. He tells me he's going to do an internal exam. He begins by inserting a finger into my cunt. Though he says, "I'm going to begin with a finger in your vagina." He does this and, again, his actions are far from what could be considered a standard examination. He slowly pushes his finger in and out of me, then he pushes another finger in and is finger fucking me in earnest. Still, he is speaking professionally, as if what he's doing is not sexual at all.

"Yes," he says, "you seem to have a normal physical response to my actions. You're producing quite a bit of lubrication and you're clearly aroused. Very good."

I'm trying hard not to writhe on the table or cry out from the pleasure, but it becomes increasingly more difficult as he continues to push his fingers into my cunt.

He calls the nurse forward from where she's been standing at my side.

"Would you pull her labia apart and stimulate her clitoris, please? We need to see if her reactions there are appropriate."

I gasp as she spreads my lips and begins to rub my clit. I am overwhelmed by them both. At this point I AM writhing on the table. My hips are bucking up towards his fingers, trying to make them go deeper even still. My hands are gripping the sides of the table and my cries are increasingly louder.

"It's becoming difficult to carry on with the exam this way. Nurse, would you restrain her, please. You understand, my dear, we can't accurately measure your responses if you are moving all over the place."

The nurse grabs my arms and pulls them to the side of my head where there are leather restraints built into the table. After buckling my hands, she takes my legs and moves them down so that now my thighs are in the stirrups and she proceeds to strap them down with similar restraints. Last, she pulls across a leather belt and ties me in at the waist. I cannot move.

"Good. I'm going to examine your rectum now," he says.

I am, at this point, so overwhelmed by what has been happening, I almost can't react to this statement. I simply gasp.

The doctor puts his hand out towards the nurse, who pours some lubricant onto his fingers. He gently rubs some of the lube onto my ass and slowly pushes his index finger into me.

"If you breathe, it will be less uncomfortable," he says.

With his left hand resting on my belly, he proceeds to gently and slowly, push his finger in and out of my ass. My moaning is now low and guttural. I feel as if I'm being pushed to the edge of what is allowably pleasurable.

"Yes, good," the doctor says. And now his voice is lower. I can tell he is aroused, as he watches what he is doing to me. Clearly excited by both his own actions and my response. He pushes in another finger and picks up the pace.

"Yes, nurse, I believe you should resume your attention to the clitoris."

And with that, she spreads me apart and begins to rub my clit in time with the doctors rhythm. It is so sensual, and so decadent, it feels as if we're all moving in the same time.

"This is my favorite part of the exam," says the doctor. And I look down and realize he's pulled his very erect cock out of his pants and, with his other hand, is stroking it.

"Nurse?"

She knows, apparently, what is to come next. She moves away from me and pulls a condom from a drawer. She opens the package and slides it over his cock. I want to beg for it, beg for his cock in me, but I don't. I'm ashamed enough as it is that this exam has become so depraved. Ashamed at being restrained and, essentially, molested by my doctor and his nurse. Ashamed at how much I want it and want it to continue.

"The best way, really the only way, to accurately grade your response is if I put my penis in your rectum." As he says this, the nurse is stroking his cock with lube.

He puts the head of his cock at my ass and pushes. Not hard, but not easy either. He pushes it in and I cry out with the pain and the pleasure of it. Both he and the nurse watch as his cock moves in and out of my ass. I am, practically, screaming.

"Good, yes, good. Good reaction. Nurse..."

She again begins her ministrations to my clit and I feel myself so close, so close to orgasm, and he senses this.

"Yes, this is what I want to see. If you can come from my penis in your rectum. Are you sensitive enough? Is it good enough?"

Faster and faster, he fucks me until I'm there, at the edge and I explode into a thousand magnificent contractions over and over and he doesn't stop. And then he comes with a growl and a satisfied moan.

He pulls his softening cock out of me and the nurse begins to undo the restraints. She puts a soft, white towel over the lower half of my body and says she'll be back in a moment with some soap and warm water.

As the doctor removes his gloves and washes his hands at the sink, he says, "I think I can say with all confidence that you are healthy in all aspects. I don't think we need to do any further tests of your responses. We'll see you next year."

**************************************************************************************

Maybe I should reconsider and find myself a male doctor.

Solicitation (this is not what you think it is)

2007-09-10T16:44:00.000-04:00

Recently, in conversation with a friend, I was lamenting (as opposed to whining) about not finding a partner. I wondered aloud about soliciting help in finding, perhaps, some clubs or parties here in Gotham that might interest me and my predilections, and aid in the search for someone to, um, fulfill them. I thought he, being the sophisticated (and handsome) Dom that he is, might have some contacts. Instead he said, "Put your blog to work for you!" and suggested I solicit information from my readers. What a great idea!

So, dear readers, I urge those of you who are either in the vicinity (of NYC) or are familiar with it and it's dark underbelly to write me with your intimate knowledge of clubs, parties, orgies (I'm infinitely inspired by AAG and her forays), or other equally decadent venues. We (myself and a kinky friend in crime) would be grateful to know what you know on this subject so that we can merrily continue down the road of sin and perversion.

I imagine a little night life (read: sex life) might quiver the muse.

Prelude to a Post

2007-09-06T23:42:00.000-04:00

Life seems to have gotten in the way of sex. Meaning, I'm not having any sex and life has been pretty busy.

The result is a lack of fodder for the muse. Or, maybe the muse is on holiday.

Something will come along shortly, I'm sure. Something is brewing slightly below the surface, soon to be transcribed. I'm still reading the Story of O, and there's some inspiration there.

So, stay tuned, patient readers. I hope to titillate you soon.

Ta-Ta for Labor Day

2007-08-29T21:24:00.000-04:00

I wish I could say I was going to the beach to lie in the sun and bake. Or going to the mountains to hike and swim in mountain streams.

Instead, I'm going to do my duty as a friend and lend assistance to someone I love dearly. It is Labor Day, after all.

But, it's just as good, really, as those vacation-y type things. Certainly better for my karma.

Have a good weekend, all.

Eve

Tagged, I'm it...

2007-08-29T09:25:00.000-04:00

I've been tagged by our very own lifeguard, ATLLG, so I'm it. Or one of 5 it's.

Here's the rules, apparantly -

Let the tagging begin....here is how it was explained to me.

Go to Wikipedia and type in your birthday (month and day).
Write down three events, 2 births, 1 holiday and tag 5 friends.

There are five slots in the Birthday Meme. As you are tagged, you have to remove the name in the first slot and bump everyone up so that your name can be added to the bottom.

Okay - my birthday - October 9

Events -

1582 - Due to the implementation of the Gregorian calendar this day does not exist in this year in Italy, Poland, Portugal and Spain.
So, if I was born in 1582, my birthday would be....

1967 - A day after being caught, Che Guevara is executed for attempting to incite a revolution in Bolivia.

Long live Che...

1989 - An official news agency in the Soviet Union reports the landing of a UFO in Voronezh.

This explains some things....

Births -

1940 - John Lennon

1835 - Camille Saint-Saëns, French composer (d. 1921)

Holiday -

Uganda - Independence Day (from Britain, 1962)

I'm tagging -

Rupert
Roger
Figleaf
Gracie
Shon Richards

Previous players -

Mizmouthy
JeannieGrrl
Stealth
ATLLG
Eve

Impressions of O

2007-08-28T09:41:00.000-04:00

I'm somewhat ashamed to admit I have never read The Story of O. I realize this is requisite reading for a budding, or even veteran, player in a D/s dynamic, but I simply have not put it on my reading list.

That has changed and it's going to be the next thing I read.

Last night I watched a film called The Writer of O. A biopic of Dominique Aury, the author of the Story of O.

A French writer who was highly respected and afforded a position of honor in the French literary community, she successfully crafted this tale of love and submission, perhaps the ultimate submission, as a gift for her lover. And as a dare. Her lover and employer, Jean Paulhan suggested that a woman could not write erotica. That they were not capable of envisioning such tales. She set to, and did, prove him wrong.

The film itself did not, I suspect, give the author her due. There were wonderful segments of interviews with her many years after she came out as the author. She had a sharp and visionary mind. She strongly, and rightly, believed that women had the capacity to be as immoral as men. That their imaginations and fantasies could easily wander towards scenes both loving and tempered and brutally erotic.

There were some contradictions in the film that confused me as to the position the filmmaker was taking towards the prose in The Story of O. Specifically, enactments of scenes from the book, where O is being made into a slave, would be cut with scenes of butchery (and I mean that literally - of animal slaughter) and images of slaves, shackled and led along. I couldn't understand if this meant the filmmaker did not approve of the Story, and so this montage was meant as a criticism? That's how it appeared. And yet, in the interviews with Aury, as well as interviews with other players in her life - publishers, biographers, friends - we're led to see the author as a strong, smart, courageous and immensely creative woman.

Contradictions aside, I found the film illuminating. I believe it will set a groundwork, a reference, for me as I read the book. Knowing the authors intentions, to write both a love letter and a polemic on women's ability to be as licentious as men will, I believe, inform my impressions as I read The Story of O.

Two Little Words

2007-08-19T19:10:00.000-04:00

As a writer, I think I have a grasp of the power of words. They evoke emotion and reaction. They inspire ideas and actions. And, as in the case of writing about sex, they arouse. But, I never knew until recently the power that 2 words held over me.

When spoken to me, or even written, I'm immediately transported into another place within myself. It's a place where I'm extremely aroused and submissive. I am happy and compliant. I go to a quiet place. I become content, even for a moment. I take in a breath and it's all there.

It's a phrase that conveys praise and asserts control, all at once. And I long to hear it. I want to deserve it, and my actions, my acquiescence, has its utterance as the goal.

So, tell me... am I a good girl?

A Perfect Piece of Fiction

2007-08-16T14:37:00.000-04:00

I'll tell you what's been getting me lately. And, by "getting me" I mean "getting me off".

First, though, let me say that I haven't had sex with another person in, oh I don't know, a month? Maybe a little more? So, I'm left to my own devices. And, by devices, I mean my fingers, generally, and sometimes a dildo. I'm not a fan of vibrators. I've used them, but find the sensation too extreme. After using them consistently for a while I become over-sensitive and it takes too much, and sometimes too long, to come. So, I eschew vibrators and rely on my good, old right hand. It's fabulous.

Anyway, in the hopes he doesn't mind my linking to his site, I want to share with you this fantasy that Roper from Confessions of an English Gentleman has so brilliantly developed and shared with us and what I've been coming back to over and over. And coming to over and over.

As in the fantasy, I picture myself in the lap of my lover, whoever he may be. I picture his hands on my thighs, holding them apart so that the stranger sitting between my legs has a perfect view of my mostly waxed, and very wet, cunt. I see the strangers fingers pushing up into me as my lover watches and makes me watch. I drip at the thought of a stranger, someone my lover has chosen, looking at me and touching me. And watching me as I spread myself for him and come completely open and exposed, while he ravishes my holes with his fingers.

A stranger. I am enamored with the idea of exposing myself, of opening myself, my cunt specifically, to a stranger. Of being seen by a man I don't know. Seen and appreciated. Seen and touched. Seen and instructed in what actions to take. Told to spread myself, to show myself, to masturbate, to come. By someone I don't know.

And yet, I also crave intimacy. Because I have no illusion that what I describe here, simply exposing myself to a strange man, is intimate. I have done it, more than once now, and I know this - it is vulnerable, it is sexual, certainly, and sensual, perhaps, and for me incredibly arousing. But, it is not intimate. There isn't closeness, except in physical proximity.

And that is what attracts me so to Ropers Fantasy No. 11. It combines both the trust and intimacy and ability to share something so private with someone I love and the debauchery of a stranger finger fucking me. It is, really, perfect.

Thank you, Roper. For, somehow, climbing into my head and pulling out such a perfect piece of fiction that I can ride on over and over.

Note: Obviously, I'm over my little moment of feeling supremely unsexy. Whew! As I seem to do with everything lately, I've decided to blame it on hormones. So nice to have a scapegoat.

The Difference Between Me and Me

2007-08-13T17:52:00.000-04:00

Lately I've been thinking about the difference between my blog persona (Eve) and the "real" me. I've been wondering how much of a difference there is between these two characters, if you will. Everything I write, even the fiction, comes from the "real" me. What you're reading is written in my voice. I haven't made anything up or adopted any characteristics that might be attributed to Eve, but not to me.

But, there is a temptation.

It's appealing, the idea of creating a different character for myself. Acting on-line. Concoting someone with an entirely different life. Other experiences, new parents and family, fictional accounts of all kinds of sexual adventures that are not my own. It's an enticing thought, but it's not me, not here.

I haven't revealed much about myself here but what you do know is fact. The intimate and detailed experiences and fantasies recorded here are more than any person in my true life know about me. Except, perhaps, for a few lovers who I've let in on the secret and led them to this blog. They are the only ones (and, as I give it any thought, it is only one man) who can put a face and a body to the gyrations on the page. So, perhaps, there is only one person that sees the woman and the pseudonym as one.

So, I've been wondering if the blog persona and the non-blog persona, are different. And, I realize, they are not. What you read is the composite me, in so much as we are all composites of our experiences. Traveling through our lives like comets, picking up debris, both good and bad, and adding it to our selves. Amalgams of the worlds we inhabit.

A Me by any other name...

’Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself though, not a Montague.
What’s Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O! be some other name:
What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;

O! be some other name -

be Eve.

Summertime Sabbatical

2007-08-08T12:42:00.000-04:00

That's right. I'm off again for a long weekend. I have no spicy prose for you anyway, just now, so maybe it's the perfect time to slip away from the blog.

I will admit though (because I know you all want to hear about it and because I'm really dying to tell you) that I've been making like May and masturbating a bit. So, there you go. All is not lost.

Enjoy till next week when I return with tan lines extraordinaire.

Note to commenters: I monitor all comments, so if you post something be a little patient. I'll make sure to put it on the blog when I return.

The Opposite of Horny

2007-08-06T18:21:00.000-04:00

Sex has not been on my mind, of late. (And, by “of late” I mean the last few days.) I haven’t been pondering a pounding, as it were, by some gorgeous, well-hung, hunk of a 20-something. This image, as pretty as it may be, doesn’t make my blood quicken, my cunt clench and moisten, my breathing shallow.

This could be, I hesitate to say, hormonal. I’ve had a few “symptoms” that foretell an imminent hormonal change, and this could be one. I’ve prided myself on, so far, having retained my libido at a time when, I’m told, it could be on the wane. I haven’t lost my umpf, or my juice. I haven’t dried up. I’m a little nervous and wondering if this could be the beginning of such a thing. I try to perish that thought, but it arises and, frankly, that makes my blood quicken. With anxiety.

Can that sort of change happen so quickly? Almost overnight, or within such a short time? I'm thinking not. Considering just last week I had hot, hot phone sex with this fellow.

Perhaps I'm in a place where I want my sexual attentions to come from a partner, a lover, a boyfriend, a mate, or, dare I say, a husband. Someone who knows me intimately, not just because he wants to fuck me (or anybody), but because he wants to know me. His interest in me lies deeper than the depth of my pussy. When the ropes are untied and the toys are put away, we can lie together in confidence and silence.

In fact, I've felt that for some time now. Tiring of disconnected, unapologetic sex with nearly anonymous men, I long for someone who knows me. But, I've thought, I don't need to be chaste while I'm waiting. I can have a little fun in the mean time. I'm wondering if that isn't what's making the search more difficult. If somehow I'm imbued with an aura of the nonchalant connection.

Whatever the case, or the reason, I'm far from horny right now.

So, please accept this post by way of an apology. I am remiss in causing your blackberry screen to steam up as you feverishly scroll down to the finale of something sordid and dirty dreamt up, or lived, by yours truly.

I have no doubt my libido will come around again. And probably not too long from now. And I assure you, I won't leave you out of the proceedings.

HNT - August 2

2007-08-02T13:29:00.000-04:00

And just a little more skin....

Well, actually, it's quite a lot more skin.

This is dangerously exciting.

Happy HNT!

Sugasm #90

2007-07-31T10:47:00.000-04:00

WOW! My story was chosen as editor's choice this week! I'm so honored! Especially with so many good, hot, drippy pieces to choose from!

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #91? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

Fat can be sexy
“I understand what it’s like to be surrounded by images that reinforce that skinny is the ONLY way to achieve sexiness.”

Are Women Visual Critters, Too?
“With the invention of the internet, however, I think that it gets even more complicated.”

Marriage, Monogamy, and All that Jazz
“My chosen lifestyle and relationship type wasn’t making any sense to the other women.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself

S Magazine

Editor’s Choice

Supply and Demand

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships

Am I Missing Anything, Really?
Catalina loves the Museu de l’ Erotica
Cheating Men
“How much confession can one read before becoming uncomfortably numb?”
I’m a Woman Man: Episode 2 - Faces
Lulu Forever
Playground positions
So many rabbits…

BDSM & Fetish

Car Wheels on a Gravel Road
Dirty words
Fetish Film - English Punishment Series (Spanking, Caning)
The Flesh Remembers
Fun with a subby boy
Luring the Guardian Angel
The Percentage Game
Sukebe Otaku: Happy Tears, Revisited
Teeth and claws and cock and cunt
Thunder: Service With A Smile
The Violent Kiss
Wake up bitch…
Worshipping post-erior - leaving my mark
You suck!

Sex News & Reviews

Lelo Nea Mini Vibrator Review
Sex In The Virtual World - Computer Games

Sex Humor

How To Get His Attention

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio

Amy of 24.7 in the Kitchen
Drum Solo (video)
Half-Nekkid Exhibitionist
Ivett

Sex Work

Busy Princess Play Day

Erotic Writing and Experiences

Distracted by Her shoes
Endangered
I Want
No reservations, part 1
An old friend
Pink
Sleeping Beauty…
Supply and Demand
That Kiss
Torrential
We were in heat

OverExposure

2007-07-30T16:24:00.000-04:00

Lately I've been thinking about exposure. I've been thinking about how excited I get, butterflies-in-my-belly, swollen and wet, little impish smile excited when I either think about or, better yet, am asked to expose myself. This could be any degree of exposure. As open as fully undressed, legs spread, examination. Or as subtle as standing before my viewer, with my legs only slightly apart. And, anything in between. I am, once again, somewhat shocked at myself. I spent many prudish years not wanting to be seen at all. Practically no part of my body, no less my cunt! And now I crave it to be seen.

I know that there are lots of exhibitionists, with varying degrees of and desires for exposure. Some have to get it in public. Like the subway for example. I read somewhere that the R train in NYC has the highest rate of flashers, so depending on your mood, you may or may not want to take the R. Or in a park, or just walking down the street. I don't mind this, necessarily. I've progressed enough in my sexual education (and debauchery, of course) to be able to shrug off a cock being pulled out for the owners gratification. It's not exciting to me, but whatever. I've never been flashed by a woman. I'm waiting for that day!

I have no need to flash in public. Recently I was e-mailing and IM'ing with a man (whom I had a very boring date with so you'll not be hearing of him again) who proceeded to tell me of his fantasy to have me out with him, no panties, short skirt, on a bar stool, flashing other men in the bar...I don't need to finish. You get the gist of it. I don't find this exciting. I don't want to randomly flash men in a bar. I want the intimacy that comes with close, physical proximity. I want to see, not shock and delight from some guy who thinks he's seeing something he shouldn't, but excitement in the eyes of the beholder. Excitement and lust. Lust and want. Then need. A need to touch.

Recently I went out with a man who I met through craigslist. This man was the model for the subject in this story. He really did post an ad on CL similar to the one I describe in the story. And, I really did answer.

The story is fiction, based on fact. What did happen was dinner. A lovely dinner, on a hot summer night, at an outdoor cafe. We drank a bit, and talked a lot and flirted blatantly, both knowing what had brought us there. We talked around it. We talked about it. Moving towards some resolution, but we didn't know what.

I'm a little ashamed of what happened. A little ashamed, but also incredibly excited. The restaurant was emptying out and things were quieting down. After talking for some time about his "fetish" for large labia, and about my answer to his call (the only answer, by the way), he asked me if we should go into one of the small, unisex bathrooms. I knew what he wanted. He wanted to "see" me. I said yes.

After paying the bill, we headed for the restrooms and, luckily, they were both unoccupied. We went into the larger of the two and locked the door. And kissed. That was nice. And then, "Can I see?" I hesitated for a fraction of a second, knowing full well that his simple question had me excited. Damp.

I unzipped my jeans, locked my thumbs on the sides and, grabbing my panties on the way down, pulled my clothes to my knees. As I stood up, he squatted down and, for a minute, just looked at me. I spread my legs a little wider, so that he could see them. The dark, wrinkled flesh that was the object of his desire. Without taking his eyes from my pussy he asked if he could touch.

He moved a hand forward and immediately held onto my lips. Touching them and squeezing them, and making me moan. "Perfect", he said. "Just what I was looking for."

For a few moments he tugged and squeezed my labia, until he could see, I suppose, the reaction he was creating. He pushed one, then two fingers up in to me and, there, in a small, not entirely clean, cafe bathroom on the Upper East Side, I came as quietly as I could as a man I'd never met finger-fucked me with not a small degree of skill.

And I wonder, is this the extent to which I'll go to expose myself? Is this how great my need is that I'll allow myself to participate in something that, for most, would be considered abject, at the worst, undignified, at the least? Do I have to censor my actions so as to keep myself from falling lower into some pit of loathsome behavior?

Perhaps.

Admittedly, though, I think of this often. I dwell on it, the picture of it in my head, the feeling of it between my legs, the gasp as his fingers first touched my full, swollen lips. I think and I masturbate and I want to do it again. I want to show myself to someone who wants to see me. Who wants to appreciate what I'm giving him.

It is, I realize, an incredibly submissive act. To be asked to show my pussy to someone simply because it excites him to see it. And to comply. The reasons for excitement are myriad and I love that. It excites him not only to see my naked cunt, but he's aroused by simply asking. By my saying yes. And, maybe he sees, for that fraction of a second, my struggle with the request. And that adds to his arousal because he knows this is, even if only slightly, hard for me to do. And, he's excited because he knows I'm excited. He knows, perhaps, that this act of exhibitionism stirs something in me. He knows it and can see it made manifest in the moisture on his fingers as he fondles my lips.

I want to do it again. Maybe with the same man, who can get a better look next time. Or, maybe with another. Someone who, with maybe a little more understanding, can make his request in such a way as to imply it is not a request at all.

HNT - July 26

2007-07-26T09:50:00.000-04:00

I guess I'm getting into this. Not such a big surprise, I suppose, given my desire for exposure.

Today, I give you the foot. The left, to be exact. I don't want to alienate the foot fetishists. I have a new found sympathy for them.

Note written somtime later - Clearly, I don't know my left from my right. This is the RIGHT foot. Not the left.

Supply and Demand

2007-07-23T19:03:00.000-04:00

It began on craigslist, as so many of these things do. His post was unusual, but she couldn't resist.

Big Labia Are My Biggest Turn-On

His post went on to describe, in dripping detail, an experience he’d had some time before with a woman at a wedding (not the bride, mind you). They hooked up casually and, after working themselves into a heated fervor, all clothes discarded, he saw the new objects of his desire.

...she sits up and straddles me. That’s when I notice. She was trimmed. Nicely. And from the front, the hood of her clit was visible, with the tip of it just poking out. Just below it are two dangling lips. They’re dark. Uneven. And they stick out from the rest of her pussy by about a half inch. She’s positioned so that each lip is on either side of my cock, and the head of it is right against her clit.

From then on he was hooked. With each woman he got together with, either casually or in longer relationships, he would hope that they would provide him with that which he longed to pull into his mouth. But no-one was as well endowed as his first.

Not being able to contain his need, he finally decided to be straightforward about his search. And, anonymous.

When she stumbled upon this ad, on a rainy, horny day, she knew she had to respond.

Over the next few days they wrote each other, learning details of their lives, beyond anatomical proportions. Yet, it was seething below the surface of each word.

They finally met for a drink. Their eyes locked and they knew that they couldn't wait long to satiate their desire for each other. They drank quickly and immediately moved to her apartment.

Not wasting a moment, they were on each other upon walking in the door. He pulled her shirt up over her head, she unbuckled his belt, anxious to see in the flesh what she could feel in his pants to be something satisfying. Moving towards the bed, lips locked in a tongue twirling, feverish kiss, they were down to their underwear by the time they fell together onto the duvet. And he couldn't wait any longer. Pushing her so that her head was at the top of the bed, he pulled her panties down. With no ceremony, he climbed between her legs and, pulling her thighs apart, gazed at a sight he had waited so long to see.

He slowed his movements so as to savor this moment. He wanted to reveal all the detail and take his time examining his prize. His thumbs moved one to each side of her lips. He didn't pull them apart, but just rested there, feeling gently the swelling of her pussy. He moved his thumbs and forefingers down to her large, dark, moist lips and, with something akin to tenderness, took each one between his fingers and just felt them. Held them, pinched them ever so slightly.

She remained still. As still as she could given the enormous anticipation she felt. He was examining her, looking at her in detail, taking in the contours and proportions of her pussy. She could feel her mounting excitement, knowing she was swelling and becoming more and more wet. She knew it was dripping out of her.

He could see it, almost a small bead of juice, drip from her ever increasingly wet cunt. Not quite as gently, he began to pull the lips apart, and look into her. After a moment he pulled them back together and, moving forward ever so slightly, pulled the flesh between his lips and into his mouth and began to suck. They moaned in unison. Completely connected by the eroticism of the moment. He sucked and swirled his tongue around them and through the middle of them and then back around them. He felt a completeness, a satisfaction, he didn't know was possible.

And his cock was like steel. Never, since that first time, was he so excited. As he sucked on his new found loves, he began to dart his tongue in and out of her. Then, more insistently, began to push his tongue deep inside her. Her hips moved up and forward to meet him and force his tongue deeper inside.

With her legs up practically behind her own head, he pushed and sucked and pushed and sucked until, like a volcano, she erupted, quaking and moaning and dripping her juice into his mouth and down his chin.

After, when her legs were down on the bed, he remained between them with his head resting on her thigh, just gazing and touching her soft, now completely drenched, dark labia. He gazed at her lips the way another man might gaze into a woman’s eyes. And stroked his cock.

He had found a new love and she wondered if she would ever see his face again.

Stood Up

2007-07-23T08:49:00.000-04:00

Last night I had a date with a man I met on craigslist. Met, is of course, a euphemism for having e-mailed with him a bunch of times. Amazing how much familiarity we imbue upon messages. The ability to type is a bit less than what's required to develop a relationship.

So, I had this date with this man I "met" on craigslist and he didn't show up. I sat alone at the bar, luckily in a place I don't feel uncomfortable sitting alone, drinking my Stella. And waited. I didn't have his cell number (he had mine, though) so I couldn't call to follow-up.

I was surprised because we seemed to have had a fun time communicating. Seemed to have some things in common. A similar language. He is, most likely, married or otherwise involved, and that's the rub. That's the stopping point. It's the little detail that I could never know unless told.

I was disappointed. In the moment, after my beer and no dinner, I was feeling a bit more than just let down. I have an unhealthy tendency to gather up all my bad feelings into one big pile and look at them one by one, dissecting them and finding all the reasons why they, each of them, are justified. How I'm a loser, an idiot, too old, idealistic, foolish, fat, destined to be alone, stupid...and on and on. A barrage of negative adjectives. Because someone I don't know doesn't show up for a drink.

In the light of day, I'm feeling less devastated. Less pitiful. But in the back of my mind, maybe it's always there, is that feeling that there's no-one. A city of 8 million people plus the suburbs, and I can't find one that I'm attracted to who feels the same and hangs in there with me.

I know it's a numbers game (my therapist reminds me of this regularly...and by regularly, I mean weekly) and I'm racking up the numbers. Even if he didn't show up, I can count him as one more piece in the haystack. One more body in the body-count of dead dates. I'm sure there are more on my horizon. I have no doubt about that. I have to learn to reign in the demon that haunts me when disappointment comes. There are better things to have whispered in my ear than the damaging list of faults and pitfalls I so easily adopt as my own.

Someone not quite so perverted would probably find it appalling that, rather than being called old or fat, I prefer slut and whore.

I continue the search, I suppose, for the man who can replace the injurious rambling in my head with the smut I long for.

HNT - My First!

2007-07-19T23:34:00.001-04:00

I've never done HNT because I thought it was a little too revealing, but I thought a little neck couldn't hurt. And a little tan line.

Notorious Is as Notorious Does?

2007-07-17T17:02:00.000-04:00

I watched, for the first time, last night the film The Notorious Bettie Page. It's a little bit of a clunker of a film, but I was intrigued by her as a character. They depict her as being completely innocent to her actions and her surroundings. After having professed to believe in Jesus, she's asked by the photographer what she thought Jesus would say about the things she was doing. The answer she gives is either a tremendous amount of bullshit, or the most convoluted rationalization imaginable.

First, she talks about how each person has a talent and how God wants each person to use their talent. She even says something bizarre about how what she's doing is helping someone. (Now, don't get me wrong, dear reader. You know me and you know I actually DO believe her bondage and spanking photos are helping people. Perverts, like you and me. But we know this is not the view of the wider population. Then, even less so.) She goes on to comment about how Adam and Eve are naked in the garden, so....

I guess I just wonder how naive she really was. In the film they make her out to be a Pollyanna character. A church going, God fearing, innocent. And that, in the end, she did turn to God and repented at some Evangelical church in Florida. And, maybe that's what she did. I'm just skeptical that in the years she was making those pictures, she was unaffected by her actions.

Was she not dripping wet during some of those shoots? Tied up to the chair, splayed out for all to see (albeit covered completely by contraptions in lingerie), was she not in some state of arousal? They depict the spankings as being fake. The hand never actually meets the bottom. But did she yearn for it? Did a part of her secretly want to cry out begging to be spanked? Being tied, gagged and blindfolded was real. I cannot believe she was not affected.

In doing a little research I came across the Official Site of Bettie Page. I combed this site and nowhere is there a reference to the BDSM aspects of her photography. They have bondage pictures, but in her biography, and other essays about her life, there is no discussion of her involvement in these photos.

In Hips, Lips and Tits...It's Bettie Page, I found this paragraph:

Was Bettie really into bondage?
In order to fulfill customer requests, Irving Klaw required that Bettie do at least some bondage or fetish for all of her shoots (Klaw and Bettie were not bdsm enthusiasts themselves). For the setups, the tying of ropes was done by his sister Paula, a trusted friend of Bettie's. Bettie has said that she enjoyed all of the modeling she did, including the bondage scenes (as well as spanking, wrestling, whipping, dressing up in a leather pony costume, etc.), and did not feel exploited. So while the Dark Angel was not a real-life bondage queen, she did have fun posing for the pictures.

So, she had fun.

I guess we'll never know if it was hot for her. Even if it was, she probably wouldn't admit it. And maybe she really was an innocent. Maybe she thought it was just a little fun, a job that paid well, some notoriety, and somewhere, it was helping someone. I wonder if she ever considered in what way those photos were helping.

And the Search is On

2007-07-11T10:10:00.001-04:00

As most bloggers do, I subscribe to one of those stat sites so that I can see who is reading my smut. I've been so impressed with the geographic range. From pretty much every state in the United States, most Western European countries, some Eastern European (the Republic of Moldova, for one), and much of Asia, Southeast and otherwise. It's exciting. Makes me feel a little international.

I also like to monitor the keyword activity. Meaning the search words people enter into say Google to find something of interest and my blog ends up in the results. Some of the search terms are pretty mundane, run-of-the-mill smutty or BDSM related. Others are downright hysterical. I thought I would list some of the more creative search terms used in which Paradise Tied Up was listed in the results. See for yourself. (I have, of course, added my own commentary.)

groped subway clit tied - I love the addition of subway here. The visual is great.
legs wide apart escorts - I figured this one is looking for an evening companion with particular skills.
mom tied up - Careful there, mom.
tied up dildo - Kind of defeats the purpose, doesn't it?
in my cunt waiter - I think we all want to know what restaurant we're looking for here.
oversexed finger on legs - Sounds like this could develop into Carpal Tunnel.
circles eyes masturbating - I just don't get it.
things to do while being tied up - I love this. It just makes me think of someone looking for something to do when they're bored.
tied up whore - Run-of-the-mill, but I love it.
foot mouth tongue toes licked - What's that kids song? Head, shoulders, knees and toes.
watch me masturbate - They hit the nail on the head, with that one.
towel door touch my clit answer moan fantasy ocean husband read - An interesting grouping of words. How did I end up here?
masturbate paradise - Yes, indeed.
tentacle skirt orgasm - I figured out there are 2 posts that, concatenated, would add me to the results for this. I just want to know the thought process behind this one.
my cock is so hard now! - Well, come on over!

Whatever the search term, however odd or quirky or unexpected, I'm glad you found me. I hope something in here can do the trick, for you.

Note - If you've read this already, you'll see I added one (second from the bottom) that I somehow missed before. I couldn't pass up including it.

A Night Out

2007-07-09T11:02:00.000-04:00

I walked into the club on his arm and immediately noticed there wasn't loud, pounding music. It was soft and jazzy. Sexy. We walked over to the bar and he ordered us drinks. Looking around I saw people milling around, talking to one another, introducing each other, singles and couples alike. I noticed 3 people walk to the back and slip through a dark curtain. I wondered what was back there and imagined there was a VIP lounge.

As we sipped our drinks and chatted about the decor and how pretty the people were, a couple approached us. He seemed to know them. Not as good friends, but as people he'd seen before. We introduced ourselves and chatted about the crowd, the weather, etc. He and the man in the couple stepped aside for a moment and spoke quietly about something while she and I made small talk. When they returned the couple walked off and, following them with my eyes, I watched them walk through a curtain in the back of the room.

Turning to me he said, "I want you to masturbate for those people. They want to watch you." I looked at him for a moment, not knowing what to say. He had said things about taking me to a club and making me masturbate for a crowd, but I didn't realize it was anything more than fantasy used to make us both hot. He waited patiently while I integrated this information. I panicked, for sure, but also realized I was excited, and not a little, at the thought of that couple watching me.

I picked up my drink, took a big swallow, and said okay.

"Good girl", he said. Smiling, he led me through the bar to the curtain and through it we went.

We came into a corridor off of which there were rooms without doors. Instead of doors the entryways had either beads or strips of sheer curtain material so that everything within the rooms could be seen from the hallway. We walked slowly down the passage and looked into each room. There was something different in each one. Anything from a man and woman simply having sex, to a room seemingly crowded with people, some watching, some engaging in all variety of activity.

We came to a door in which "our" couple was waiting. The woman was sitting in her partners lap. He was clothed, but she had shed most of hers, except thigh highs and a push up bra out of which her nipples, hard and rather large, protruded. They looked up as we came in and both smiled.

My companion put his arm around my waist and gave me a little squeeze. I looked at him and felt a little bit reassured, but my stomach was turning somersaults. He walked me to the bed in the room and told me to take off my skirt and panties and shirt. I was left, then with only my bra. Once I'd removed these things he took the cups of my bra and pushed them underneath my tits so that they were bare and propped up. He grabbed a nipple and pinched and pulled it as he came close and whispered, "You're going to be a good little whore and masturbate for these people. They're going to watch you expose yourself and drip for them." As he hissed these indecencies into my ear, I nodded my ascent and became wetter and wetter. "Dirty fucking whore."

He indicated I was to get on the bed and kneel upright, with my legs spread. Standing beside the bed, with his arm around my waist and his mouth next to my ear he said, "Go ahead, slut. Spread your legs and touch yourself. Do it just the way you like it while these people watch you."

It was at that moment I realized what was really happening. Before I think I was in some kind of denial, or daze, but when he ordered me to masturbate, it all became clear and sharp. And I was suddenly terrified.

I looked over at the couple who had now turned to look at me, obviously expecting a show. She had her back to his chest and he, almost absent-mindedly, was playing with her pussy between her outspread legs.

"Do it", my escort hissed at me. "I know you're wet and want this. Just do it."

Reluctantly I moved my right hand down to my crotch and slowly began to touch my lips. I couldn't look at the couple as I did this, but fixed my gaze at a spot on the floor. Tentatively I put my fingers on my pussy, gently touching my lips and beginning to spread them apart. I moved my hand down a bit and pushed a finger within the swollen flesh and found myself to be so very wet, I gasped a bit. I was so humiliated at doing this, but my body belied my feelings of embarrassment.

Finding myself in this state aroused me even more and I began in earnest to rub myself. Pulling the wetness up to my clit, I began to circle what was becoming a hard nub of pleasure.

"Show off your pussy, slut. Spread yourself for these people. They want to see how wet you are. They want to see your pink slit."

As he instructed me to expose myself, he reached a hand over and began to pinch the nipple closest to him. And not gently. Pinching and pulling and digging his nails into my breast, he continued to issue instructions as to how I was to spread myself, to pull the lips apart, but to continue to masturbate. The pain spurred me to pleasure myself more, if only to counteract the degree to which my nipple hurt.

"Look at them. Look up at them. Watch them watch you, whore."

Through half-closed eyes, I watched as the man pushed his fingers into the woman’s cunt as she pushed her pelvis forward into his hand, moaning and arching her back to force his hand farther up into her. I could hear the squishing sound of her wetness. Both their eyes were glued to my hands as they spread my lips and rubbed my clit. Seeing their excitement, spurred me on even more.

As my left hand spread my lips wide, exposing all that hid within the folds of my large, dark labia, I sat back on my heels with my legs spread wide, and I imagined they could see up into me. My fingers flew over my clit and my excitement rose.

"They want to see you fuck yourself. With something big."

This last was said with a sadistic relish I had come to recognize and fear. I looked over and found in his hand maybe the biggest dildo I had ever seen. It was 10 inches long, if it was an inch, and the diameter I couldn't imagine, except that I had never seen anything like it. Covering it with a condom, extra-large I imagined, he handed it to me. Reluctantly I pulled my right hand away from my now dripping cunt and grabbed hold of this monster.

"Spread your legs wide, slut. Very, very wide, and push this cock into your cunt. Force it in, if you have to." Pause. "Or I will."

I put my bottom onto the bed and spread my legs wide, with my knees up and placed the head of the cock at the opening of my cunt. I was sure it wouldn't fit. It couldn't. I pushed the head with a small amount of pressure and it wouldn't budge.

"Harder. Push it in harder." He leaned over and with both hands on either side of my dripping hole, he pulled my cunt apart.

And I pushed. And, with a loud, painful, satisfying moan, the cock slipped into my cunt and slowly I pushed and pushed till it was in as far as I thought it could go.

"Mmmmmmmmmm. Good", he said, as he watched with lustful eyes as the dildo disappeared from view. "Now, fuck."

And fuck I did. I pulled it in and out and in and out, over and over, farther and farther. My legs spread of their own, my knees pushing up towards my chest as I reveled in the feeling of being so completely full. I became unaware, for a moment, of my surroundings and focused only on the intense sensations of being so full and so wet and the pleasure.

With my left hand I moved the cock in and out of my stretched hole and with my right I continued to rub my clit. Fucking and rubbing, that’s all I knew. I was full and the feeling of my fingers on my clit were exquisite. And then I remembered I was being watched. I opened my eyes and looked down between my legs and the three other people in the room were now standing around the bed, watching me and touching either themselves or each other. The sounds emitting from my throat, growls and moans, were involuntary and loud. The realization that they were intensely excited from watching me masturbate pushed me further into the haze.

And then two more people entered the room. Two men, one naked, one naked from the waist down. Both in various states of erection. My companion looked at them and moved over a bit to make room for them at the foot of the bed. And then he looked at me, and I at him, and he smiled that wicked smile. And I spread my legs wider and watched as one of the new men began to stroke his cock.

And that was it. Watching these strangers, real strangers, people neither of us knew even casually, watching them watch me masturbate in the most open and exposed way possible brought me to the edge. To the cliff. And I held it for a moment, knowing that the longer I could hold it, the harder the fall would be. When I knew if I held it longer it would be lost I let go and my entire body shook and shook and a scream came out of my mouth and the world was only this. I was slightly aware that my spectators also moaned and groaned as they watched me climax. And I found satisfaction in that.

As the shaking subsided and the glorious contractions ebbed, my legs slowly came down and moved onto the bed. He came to me and slowly pulled the dildo from my cunt. I closed my legs and curled up into his lap as he sat on the side of the bed. The men drifted from the room and the couple gave a little wave and left, as well. I just lay there, shaking, as he stroked my hair and whispered his praise to me.

“Next time,” he said, “they'll watch you suck my cock while you fuck yourself.”

Next time!

Her

2007-07-04T22:11:00.000-04:00

She kissed away my tears as they ran down my sun drenched face, adorned by a red imprint of her hand. A tight fist full of hair pulled my head back a little more, pulled me closer to her lips so she could lick my cheeks and whisper in my ear.

"Are you sure this is what you want, slut? I can be mean, I warned you. Did you know how mean? Did you consider how much I might hurt you?"

I had no words for her, I simply shook my head as well as I could with my skull completely in her control.

I didn't know.

I did know.

Her free hand made it's way to my cunt and without preface she plunged three, harsh fingers into what had become a dripping mess.

Laughing, "I guess it doesn't matter what you thought might happen. Here's the evidence it's what you want."

With a sharp tug to tighten her grip on my head, she pulled it back a little more and pushed and pushed her hand into my hole, my legs instinctively spreading apart a bit more, my ass pushing up as she fucked and fucked me, savagely splitting me apart. And laughed.

Laughed at my transparent and desperate need to be used.

For G

A Little Time Away

2007-06-29T21:29:00.000-04:00

I'm going to be off-line through the middle of next week. A little vacation at the beach. Unfortunately, it looks like it's going to be a sex-free vacation. I'm saying sex-free instead of sexless. Trying to be positive (?) about it.

There could be a little something upon my return. I guess we'll just see.

In the meantime, Happy July 4th, all.

Body Secrets

2007-06-28T20:54:00.000-04:00

I asked, "How did you know?"

"How did I know what?"

"How did you know, you know...I mean..."

"You mean, how did I know what you need?"

"Yes."

"Your body told me. Your body told me its secrets."

The Fastest Women Around

2007-06-26T11:55:00.000-04:00

In the Intelligencer section of this weeks New York magazine, actor Justin Theroux is quoted as saying he believes New York women to be fast. "...girls who are really from here, are the fastest women around."

I'm curious about this. They don't tell us why he thinks this is, just that he does. He says, "If she ditches you to meet some guy named Marco, she's from New York." What?

"They were all at Danceteria and dating 30-year-olds when they were 14." What?
(Note - Danceteria was a club that closed in '86.)

Now, I realize this may have all been said tongue-in-cheek or he may be truly casting aspersions on NYC women. I don't know. But, I don't necessarily disagree with him. My readers know that I'm close to approaching sonic-speed myself.

But, why shouldn't our sex lives, such as they are, reflect the real life, fast paced, chaotic reality we face every day? Alone! (We are talking about single women, here.)

We weave and bob like nobody's business just to negotiate a sidewalk from one end to the next. In heels. We endanger our lives every time we cross the street (as often as not, against the light). We rush to get to the front of the line for the cashier at anything from our favorite cosmetic store to buying a bottle of water at Duane Reade (because if you don't rush at Duane Reade, you'll be spending more than a dollar for that water - time is money!). We compete with the guys to get the good job, the nice office, the better salary, even the preferred apartment! All while trying to date said guys. Life is lived in double-time here in "the greatest city in the world", so wouldn't it make sense that our sex lives would have to follow the pace?

But, agreement doesn't help me to understand why he thinks "native" New York women are faster than others. I know many transplants, not the least of which our own Chelsea girl, who have lived here long enough to qualify for that distinction and could put many native girls to shame with the speed with which they've traversed the sexual frontier that is New York City.

It sounds to me like he thinks that if you're a girl who was born and raised in New York, you're innately promiscuous. Was there a vaccine of some kind given at birth? Is it in the school curriculum? Is it in our famously delicious and cleanest water in the country (please note this IS said tongue-in-cheek)? Does it matter if you're a Yankees or a Mets fan?

I invite you to read this piece and let me know if there's something between the lines that I'm missing. Something that can tell me why Mr. Theroux thinks that I, a proud and extremely city-centric, New York snob of a woman, am faster than the average American woman.

Can he spot one? "No...you can only tell that after talking for about fifteen minutes. By then, they’re usually bored and have seven other places to go."

I would suggest you take that, maybe, a little personally, Mr. Theroux. Since we're apparently traveling close to the speed of light, as you suggest, our precious attention can only be spared for someone worthwhile.

Sugasm #85

2007-06-25T16:01:00.000-04:00

The best of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #86? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

A Little Fun at Home (fexual-strustration.blogspot.com…)
“She surprised herself when her fingers found the actual ice cube melting inside her cunt.”

The Anniversary Present (perverselypoly.blogspot.com…)
But I knew that nothing would be more appropriate to the new path we’ve chosen than a threesome with another man on the night celebrating our wedding so many years ago.

Girl’s Night In (thenakedrhetoricaltruth.blogspot.com…)
"Some of us are more conservative than one would have thought, and some of us, it appears from dropped jaws round the table, are less.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself

7 Simple Ways to Future-proof Your Blog (sugarbank.com…)

Editor’s Choice

My Exam (wanklog.blogspot.com…)

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday (Fleshbot.com)

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.

Erotic Writing and Experiences

The Dragonfly (in-your-pants.blogspot.com…)
Greedy Eyes (paradisetiedup.blogspot.com…)
I awoke… (fantasy-nuggets.blogspot.com…)
I remember entering the hotel room (orangeuglad.blogspot.com… )
It should have been a dream then! (lastbreath.wordpress.com…)
Music & Cock (confessions112.blogspot.com…)
Party Games Part 2 (drtycplinva.blogspot.com…)
Petals….. (clearslate2007.wordpress.com…)
The Pirate Captain (bikersballsandteacherstits.blogspot.com…)
Razor Stubble (lafillemariee.blogspot.com…)
So good I could almost come (plum001.blogspot.com…)
Through the Crack (slutissimo2.wordpress.com…)
Yesterday (classyelegantlady.blogspot.com…)

Sex & Politics

Gay Marriage Survives (deliciously-naughty.typepad.com…)

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio

Beautiful Agony Video (eroticandy.blogspot.com…)
Betcee May - Nude in Nature (seccpicsnude.blogspot.com…)
Filthy Food (myhotbox.blogspot.com…)
Sasha Cohen (gotcum.blogspot.com…)
Wild - Pictorial Presentation (eroticjournals.blogspot.com…)

Sex Work

Charlie and the Chocolate Covered Cock (ladyentertainers.com…)
When A Client Dies-Part 1 (http://www.radicalvixen.com/blog)

BDSM & Fetish

The Back Room (goldslutstandard.com…)
The Control of a Submissive (vampyrandhisladye.blogspot.com…)
Happy HNT - Summertime spanking (darkside-journey.blogspot.com…)
His kiss (insidedarkpixie.blogspot.com…)
How Was Your Weekend? (http://www.sub-burbs.com/)
I want to hurt you (everythingoze.blogspot.com…)
Painslut (kinkyfarmwife.blogspot.com…)
The Real Reason I Have Long Hair,” smut from the archives (lustylady.blogspot.com…)
Scenes From My Bedroom - Part 4: Giving up control (collaredcatalina.wordpress.com…)
Two vingnettes from two scenes (geltsgirl.livejournal.com…)
Yanking My Chain (puppytale.blogspot.com…)

Sex News & Reviews

Coming back with v.2.0 (mypenis.thumblogger.com…)
Featured Fetish Film - Toys For Twats (Nun Fetish, Old, Sacrilege, Yikes) (http://www.quipsandchains.com/)
Fern wood tonight (hard-and-fast.blogspot.com…)
Half-Nekkid and Playing the Field (http://www.tarasnaughtyshop.com/)
How To Make 3 Girls Have An Orgasm (http://www.hypnopimpdaddy.com/)
Introducing the Nude Photography of Eva’s Garden (http://www.taratainton.com/)
MSNBC and Green Sex Toys (blog.babeland.com…)
Welcome to Teeny Phone Sex! (http://www.teenyphonesex.com/)

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships

Daddy Day (dirtydetails.blogspot.com…)
Lacking Sexuality (thesilentmale.blogspot.com…)
Love and Crush: Confessions (un-cool.blogspot.com…)
Lunch (secretlifeofaman.blogspot.com…)
More keyword analysis (kislee.naughtyblog.net…)
Slutdom Redefined (junohenry.wordpress.com…)
Without your input (gentlygently.blogspot.com…)