Friday, June 29, 2007

A Little Time Away

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.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Body Secrets

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?"


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

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

The Fastest Women Around

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? " 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.

Monday, June 25, 2007

Sugasm #85

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 (…)
“She surprised herself when her fingers found the actual ice cube melting inside her cunt.”

The Anniversary Present (…)
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 (…)
"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 (…)

Editor’s Choice

My Exam (…)

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.

Erotic Writing and Experiences

The Dragonfly (…)
Greedy Eyes (…)
I awoke… (…)
I remember entering the hotel room (… )
It should have been a dream then! (…)
Music & Cock (…)
Party Games Part 2 (…)
Petals….. (…)
The Pirate Captain (…)
Razor Stubble (…)
So good I could almost come (…)
Through the Crack (…)
Yesterday (…)

Sex & Politics

Gay Marriage Survives (…)

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio

Beautiful Agony Video (…)
Betcee May - Nude in Nature (…)
Filthy Food (…)
Sasha Cohen (…)
Wild - Pictorial Presentation (…)

Sex Work

Charlie and the Chocolate Covered Cock (…)
When A Client Dies-Part 1 (

BDSM & Fetish

The Back Room (…)
The Control of a Submissive (…)
Happy HNT - Summertime spanking (…)
His kiss (…)
How Was Your Weekend? (
I want to hurt you (…)
Painslut (…)
The Real Reason I Have Long Hair,” smut from the archives (…)
Scenes From My Bedroom - Part 4: Giving up control (…)
Two vingnettes from two scenes (…)
Yanking My Chain (…)

Sex News & Reviews

Coming back with v.2.0 (…)
Featured Fetish Film - Toys For Twats (Nun Fetish, Old, Sacrilege, Yikes) (
Fern wood tonight (…)
Half-Nekkid and Playing the Field (
How To Make 3 Girls Have An Orgasm (
Introducing the Nude Photography of Eva’s Garden (
MSNBC and Green Sex Toys (…)
Welcome to Teeny Phone Sex! (

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships

Daddy Day (…)
Lacking Sexuality (…)
Love and Crush: Confessions (…)
Lunch (…)
More keyword analysis (…)
Slutdom Redefined (…)
Without your input (…)

Saturday, June 23, 2007

The Girlfriend and the Slut

I'm wondering about being the girlfriend and the slut and I'm wondering if it's possible to be both. I'm not sure that being a slut, that wanting what I want, that having my particular tastes, doesn't work against me.

If a man sees me as a slut, wanton and depraved in my desires, can he ever see me as a girlfriend? Can he picture himself behind me, his cock pushing into my wet cunt, a fistful of hair in his hand AND at the movies with me, sharing a popcorn and one of those insanely large sodas? Or at dinner? Or on the beach? Maybe his picture of me is only naked and wanting and sexually greedy. Maybe he can never see me as the person I am with interests other than getting fucked (yes, I do have interests other than getting fucked).

How many men really imagine a relationship with a woman who wants sex in the way I do? Or, do they see themselves with the "good" girl. The woman who can hold her own in a conversation at a work party where he's trying to impress his boss, but then upon returning home, just have sex. "Let's get undressed, let's kiss sweetly and sensually, one of us will get on top and we'll make love, meaningfully and lovingly" kind of sex. (I'm not saying I can't enjoy that, I probably could, occasionally, with the right man.) But, if he sees me as a slut, can he ever see me as a lover?

If I go out with someone and first he sees me as a slut where he orders me and torments me and hurts me and I love it, I'm afraid that's then his image of me and nothing else will ever happen. That's happened more than once now with someone I thought I could get to know, and it's so disappointing. Hurt my chest kind of disappointing when he disappears.

But, if I go out with someone and we get to know each other non-sexually (although, there's always that overtone, right?), going to dinner, a movie, a play, hear some music, chatting about our lives, learning about each other, if that guy then learns what I want will he be disgusted? Will he say it's not for him? How can I know until it's too late and I've already decided I like him?

The other side of that coin is, can I abandon my desires for someone I want to be with? That, I don't think I could do. I lived many years as a good girl and always felt like something was missing. I don't think I could go back into that closet again and live with myself. It's very difficult and painful to have to try to tell your lover, someone you don't want to lose, someone who's respect you value, that you want them to pull your hair and pinch your nipple till you scream and call you dirty names. It's nigh impossible.

I don't have any answers to these questions. They're on my mind and I'm postulating them here. I don't have any ideas about whether I should do something differently in this, what feels like endless, search for love. I can only hope there's someone who can meet me on both, and many other, levels. Some days, like today I guess, it feels like that someone doesn't exist.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Rating the Blog

Using a link from another blog, I went to find out how my blog rates. Now, I already know what it rates. We all do. But I was curious anyway.

What cracked me up was this, though:

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

cock (9x) ass (4x) sex (3x) fuck (2x) slutty (1x)

The first 4 I get, but slutty? I mean, it's not a "nice" word, I suppose, but is it really a "dirty" word? And, do we think I've only said fuck twice in the last 5 months here? I think not.

Anyway, I'm not going to display this rating image permanently. I think it's ugly and will mar what I think is a rather attractive page. If someone under 17 wants to read this, you can bet your boots, they will.

If it's you - Go Away!



Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Move Away From the Toes

I've always had an aversion to having my toes sucked. Or licked. Or kissed. Or anywhere near the mouth of another. It's always struck me as, well, just gross.

In the summer I live in flip-flops and walk NYC streets. You do the math.

Rub my feet till they fall off, just keep your mouth to yourself.

He had asked me on the phone if I liked to have my toes licked and I said no. We talked about it for a bit anyway, and I still said no. But, this gave me a clue as to a) the turn on it was for him and b) his degree of persistence.

I was on another planet. I was on the planet of pleasure. My fingers were moving at the pace and with the pressure that only I can provide. My legs were on either side of him, the right near his head, the left lying across his chest, as he watched me, closely, massage my clit, then pull my lips apart for direct contact. I heard his moan of approval as the view became more revealing.

Meanwhile...I knew, vaguely, that he was rubbing the foot nearest to his head. I was somewhat conscious of his kissing the top of my foot, then pushing it into a flex position and kissing the bottom. But, I was stunningly aware when he pushed his tongue, gently, underneath my toes. Did he think I wouldn't notice his warm tongue on the bottom of my feet? I pulled my foot away with an "uh-uh", but he gently pulled it back towards him and continued to kiss the bottom and my toes. Occasionally darting a tongue in between two of them. I was so thoroughly excited from masturbating and his watching me that I knew I couldn't stop what was going to be inevitable, so I let go.

He sensed my surrender and began with diligence to push his tongue in between my toes. He pulled one, then another, of my small digits into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Sucking them into his mouth, so hot and wet. And I got more excited. I liked it.

When he pulled my big toe into his mouth with a groan of satisfaction and began to suck it like a small cock, I rose to the top. The feeling of his mouth on any part of my body was sublime. But, this was taboo. Maybe, even, the most taboo.

I've had a tongue in every orifice, I've had a cock rubbed over my face, I've had a finger or a toy or a cock in every hole, but I've never had my toes sucked on. He was smart (and sneaky?) to realize that I would only "allow" this if I was otherwise distracted. If I could pair what I thought was awful and unhygienic with pleasure that I couldn't stop. I'm not sure if he timed it to be so close to my orgasm that I wouldn't be able to protest too much, but if he did, the man is a sexual genius. And I liked it.

As his tongue invaded the space between my big toe and the second one, I became wetter and more excited. And closer to the edge. He sucked harder and my fingers became more focused on the goal. At the end, just before I came, his mouth moved away from my foot so that he could encourage me, entice me there, with his dirty words. And I felt, for a second, the loss. The absence of heat at my foot. But the storm overtook me and my naked toes became forgotten.

But not gone.

"You sucked on my toes!"

"Uh-huh", he replied with definite self-satisfaction.

"I liked it!", I said with incredulity.

"Hmmmm, yes, you seemed to", he said, again with a hint of amusement.

I liked it.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Greedy Eyes

In some situations, some very specific situations, I am truly an exhibitionist. Generally, I can be rather modest. He says I look like the girl next door and the only clue as to my true identity is an earring I have at the top of my ear. Even that, these days, isn't really a sign of anything untoward.

It all changes when someone wants to watch me masturbate. Something about being watched makes me crave exposure. And, not covertly. I throw off the cover and spread my legs if eyes are on me. If the person watching is watching for their pleasure, not because I want them to, I'll spread myself wider still.

And that's what was so perfect. So perfectly nasty. He wanted me to, no, he demanded I masturbate for him. He wanted to see how my finger rubbed my clit, in perfectly rhythmic circles. He wanted to see my lips, swollen and full with my intense excitement. He commanded me to open myself to him, to spread my full lips, without masturbating, but just open and exposed for him to see me. To look inside.

A stranger. A man I'd never met before. Watching me perform the most intimate act.

Lying between my splayed legs, he watched as I brought myself pleasure. Watched and stroked and whispered reminders of what a slut I was, a dirty whore. My breath became shallow, and then I held it. I held my breath in tight, spreading myself wider for him to see and for me to access directly my hard nub, my erection. He pushed a finger, no two, into my aching cunt and began to push on the spot he had found earlier. The spot that made me drip juice down the inside of my thigh. As he rubbed inside, and I out, his eyes on me, riveted to the image of us both working me into a frenzy, I peaked. I reached that spot, that edge where it all stops - sound, movement, time - for just a second and then it crashes, the sea into itself, throbbing ecstasy over and over. In my head, my mantra kept me there, brought me there, "Watch me, watch me, watch me."

In this way, I am an exhibitionist. A showman. A performer. I want it to be intense and moving and, above all, exciting. Erotically satisfying. When my audience and I are entwined in this act, and greedy eyes are gorging on the feast of my debauchery, I become, if possible, more swollen still.

Monday, June 18, 2007

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Phone Sex

"I'd like to watch you masturbate. Standing in front of me, with your legs spread. I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with your fingers in your cunt. Would you like that?"

"Oh my god, yes."

"mmmm...or on your hands and knees, one hand underneath you, rubbing your clit. My fingers pulling your lips apart, probing your wet pussy, maybe pushing a finger into your ass. How would that be? If I put a finger deep into your ass while you masturbated?"

"please, yes"

"What's that? Please?"

"Yes, please."

"Please what?"

"Please, put your fingers in my ass."

"You like that? You like to have something in your ass?"

"oh, yes. I do."

"Are you on your bed now with your legs spread?"


"Have you taken your pants and panties off?"


"Are you masturbating?"

"Yes, I am."

"Good girl."

I'm such a good girl. Dripping and plunging my fingers in and out of my cunt while this lovely man tells me how dirty I am. Pushes me in all the directions I want to go. Tells me about the spanking I get for being so slutty. Describes his cock driving into me with my legs around his neck while he pinches my nipples within an inch of their puckered lives. Relentlessly whispering naughtiness into my ear while my fingers dance over my clit, faster and harder. Frenzied. I come hard, for him.

We try for a moment to talk about other things, but before long we're both stroking again. He tells me how hard his cock is. How his hand strokes up and down, his damp, pre-cum covered hand.

"Would you like to watch me stroke my cock?"

"Yes. I like to watch."

"That turns you on?"


"Would you like me to fuck your mouth? Push my cock deep into your throat with my hand in your hair?"


"Masturbate while I fuck your mouth. I want you to touch yourself while you suck my cock."

He likes to watch. He says he makes all his lovers masturbate for him. I have no problem with this at all. In fact, this feels very compatible. Like a good fit. My hand on my pussy, his cock in my mouth.

I come again, for him. I'm such a good girl.

We meet on Sunday. Drinks and some dinner, then off to his house to play. He suggests that maybe, while we're in the restaurant, he would ask me to put a finger in my cunt and then push my finger into his mouth, so he could taste me. Other diners would see me put my finger in his mouth, he says.

"You would make me do that?"

"Oh yes."

We meet on Sunday.

Who needs alt when there's Match dot com?

Sunday, June 10, 2007

If I Should Die Before I Wake....

I found the link to this at Gray Lily's place.

'What will your obituary say?' at

Prince Charles, eh?

This actually was the 2nd one I did. I forgot to copy the html the first time and just copied the picture. It's always good to have a backup obit, right?

What I love about this one is the reference to "their" lover. Hmmm? Who's lover are we talking about? Maybe I'm going to be poly in my future?

Saturday, June 9, 2007

The Words I Love to Hear

"...I know how you love to be submissive, how you want to be taken, to be fucked, to be used... how much you need to feel that hand in your hair, tugging you back sharply... my cock thrusting deep into you from behind... holding you right there... making you beg... making you beg me to fuck you, to make you cum, hard, all over my cock... leaning over you and hissing in your ear, calling you those forbidden names... "you're such a little slut, Eve... such a dirty fucking whore... tell me what you want... tell me how you want me to fuck you..."

I'm sure my friend won't mind my repeating here what he wrote me. He knows me so well. Knows what moves me to the core. Moves me to push back, hard, on that cock inside me. Knows what a pleasure whore I am.

He seems confident there is a man who can take me in hand. Take me into his hand. Or whatever way he wants me. I'll ride on his confidence for a while. Or borrow it. In the meantime, I'll have his words to keep me company...hissing in my ear as I provide myself with the gratification I crave.

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

A New Approach

I'm thinking that maybe my ads on the vanilla dating sites have been too sedate. Maybe I shouldn't be so shy to hide the debauched, wild, alternative side of me. The side I want someone to recognize because of his own inclination. And I don't just mean submissive.

I want someone who can see the tattoo I haven't gotten yet. See it on my right shoulder, or my left calve (I haven't decided). Know that it's in my veins, running purple and yellow ink. Or see the piercings I never got, except in my ears (actually, I have 5, so....). The bohemian punk I was, that is still in me, age and all.

Maybe I should change my ad that now reads, "I'd like to meet someone who can make me laugh out loud, but also have moments of quiet and intimacy. It's all about give and take and balance...". Bullshit! It's about YOU taking ME to do with whatever you want!

But, I don't say that. It's, for chrisesake. I make nice over there. I make nice and boring. Here's the one thing I say that remotely eludes to the truth, "I'll try just about anything (except maybe extreme sports - but I love to watch!)." I DO love to watch. But the sport I'm watching is slow and languid and solitary, with me spying in the corner, dripping hot, wet down my thighs.

Where's the freak I long for? Covered in tattoos and filled with existential angst. Pretty language and dark corners for me to stand in until I'm good. Don't be afraid of me, or intimidated. Take me down the notch I need, and sometimes go there with me. Hold my hand and look into my eyes until I drown in you. I want to drown in you.

What if I changed my ad to say really what I want. To say, "I'm looking for the man who can take me places I've never been. Who can, with a look, drive me to my knees in service to him. Knowing it's what I want and need." I wonder if would banish me.

But, really. How can I meld both the straight and narrow, clean and composed with the slut, the wild girl? I know how I do it in life, but how can I do it in words? Can it be summed up in a paragraph? Maybe I can just throw in little teases like include in my interests, along with poetry and film, rope and spanking?

Or should I just admit it's over and be done? Retire to Florida and buy a yippy little dog to live with me in a condo with a view of the pool?

I simply don't know if I can go on another boring, meet-and-greet date with a stranger. It makes me tired just thinking about it.

I apologize for the pitiful quality of this post. It's all I got.