Wednesday, August 20, 2014


I was writing yesterday's post (The Surprises in Room 139 - Part 3 of 3) when I noticed that my son was reading over my shoulder.


I quickly minimized the screen and turned to look at him.

"What's up?" I asked.

He looked down for a minute and then looked at me and pointed at my screen. "I saw the word C-O-C-K. What are you writing?"

On the inside, I was screaming, "fuck, fuck, fuck...." but before I could come up with a reasonable response, he said, "Have you been writing fan fiction?  I heard that lots of moms are doing that these days."

I started laughing. "No, TommyKat. I'm not writing fan fiction. That would be silly, wouldn't it?"

"I didn't think you would do that," he said, giggling.

"I was just writing a barnyard fable. I think you saw the part where I was writing about the rooster." Then I tickled him and said, "Cock-a-doodle-do!"

He laughed. "Oh, I get it.  Can I read it when you're done?"

"Of course you can! Now let me get back to work, ok?  We'll play later."

And he happily skipped away to play a video game.

I took a deep breath.

Barnyard fable?  How did I come up with that? It was the only thing I could think of that would include a respectable use of the word c-o-c-k. Fortunately, all he knows about my work is that I do all kinds of writing for all kinds of people.

Relieved that I'd dodged a bullet, I finished writing the post.  Then I opened a new blank document and started writing "Trouble on the Farm: A Barnyard Fable." The protagonist is a very proud and handsome cock who picks on the hens.  If he's not careful, the farmer's wife may eat him.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 3 of 3)

If you haven't yet read the first two parts of this encounter, here they are:
The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 1 of 3)
The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 2 of 3)


One of the frustrating things about only having a couple of hours together is that you want to do much more than you can do in that amount of time. Ultimately, you just have to let go of plans and expectations and go with the flow. That's what I decided to do at this point.

I had checked the time and it was time to go.  In fact, it was about 5 minutes before my "must go now" time. But we were both having such a nice time and I was in the mood and he was hard again, so......

I scooted down and started licking his cock.  I was thinking. He came just a little while ago.  Could he come again so soon? How long would that take? I started to wonder if he'd want to go for it again, but then I realized I was taking a rock hard cock into my mouth.  That's usually a sign that he wants to go for it.  I think that's the universal male sign for, "Go for it!" So I did.

I got comfortable, prepared to spend some time.  Rushing wouldn't work.  The only way this would happen is if I focused on the journey, rather than the destination. I took him into my mouth and suckled him slowly, playfully.  Then after a moment or two, I sucked the head into my throat and swallowed, massaging him with my soft palate and flicking my tongue on the base. Every time he moaned, I stopped what I was doing and changed it up, trying different things, exploring, playing.

About ten minutes into it, I felt a twinge in my pussy, then another. I sucked him harder, almost as an automatic response to what I was feeling. Now I wasn't playing anymore. Whenever my pussy twitched I'd press into whatever I was doing with renewed focus and passion. If I had taken him in deep, I'd dive down further.  If I was on an upstroke, I'd just suckle the head for a bit.

I knew he was done with my eclectic approach when I felt him grab my head and hold it down while he thrusted upward from below. I pressed my legs together and started grinding, wanting to cum, but trying to stay focused on him. I wasn't very successful until I heard him groan loudly and push my head down, holding me firmly while he came. 

I held my breath, then came up swallowing. After, I kissed his cock gently, as I always do.  I was about to  crawl back up to kiss him when I thought.  Wait.  What's good for the goose is good for gander.  He never stops when I come.  He always keeps going.  I wonder what would happen if......  Besides, horny is an understatement for what I was feeling at the moment.

I didn't care what time it was.

I looked up at him and took his cock into my mouth again. He smiled and chuckled a little. He didn't get completely soft after he came, and it didn't take long at all before he was as hard as he was before.  Every now and then he'd say something, but to be honest, I don't know what he said. His voice had a magical effect on me, though.  My pussy wasn't just twitching anymore; it was on fire.

I was conflicted again. I really needed a good hard fucking, but I was committed to seeing if I could get a 3rd orgasm out of him, and I was finding it pretty pleasurable.  I could wait.  For a little while, anyway.

I refocused on his cock and started with the exactly what I had been doing when he came a moment ago.  He moaned loudly. I relaxed and kept going, sliding my hands up his hips and around his lower back, then down to his backside, pulling him up a little on each downstroke so I could get him even deeper. 

My mind wandered at times.  Why does this guy turn me on like he does?  Why does my body respond to him so easily? Why do I like being with him so much?  Why does his voice make me feel both calm and excited at the same time? 

Every now and then he'd do something that would pull my attention back to him completely - a moan, a word or two, his grip on my hair pulling my head up forcing me to pull against him to get back to his cock. And whenever my attention came back, not only did I go after his cock more hungrily, but I realized how close I was to coming. 

It seemed like a long time later, but eventually he groaned loudly again and held my head down.  I felt his cock pulsate in my mouth, but very little ejaculate came out. When he released me a moment later, he said, "Damn, you drained me."  That made me smile, So, that's really possible, I thought. 

My pussy was quivering wildly. Not. Quite. There.  Ugh!

I lapped up a few drops of cum and crawled back up to kiss him. I wanted to suggest that we do something more to take the edge off my slutty and needy pussy, but I realized that it had to be late.  I checked the time and I was right.  I had to go. I was already late. Fuck.

As I was driving home, I still wanted him. Later that night, I still wanted him. Finally, I found some release in the shower, but it didn't relieve my desire for him at all. And we had no date for another meeting. 

I hoped it would be soon.

Monday, August 18, 2014

The Art of the Alibi

The main reason that prowlers get caught is because they get sloppy with their alibis. We tend to be very careful in the beginning and then, if we have succeeded at not being caught, we get cocky and start to cut corners and that's when the disasters happen.

A good alibi needs to be simple, believable, and verifiable.

It should be simple because the likelihood of being caught goes up exponentially with each degree of complexity. Simple means that it doesn't involve more than one other person ("Oh, I was at Dave's house with all the guys from the bowling team."  "Really? I talked with Marcia tonight and Steve and Joe were at her house." Oops.), it's easy to remember ("What was the name of that new restaurant you said you went to with Joe the other night? What do you mean you don't remember?  Do you still have the receipt?"), and it doesn't involve multiple steps ("I was at the book store, then I went to the gun store, then took the car for an oil change, and...and...and....").  The more complicated it gets, the more chances you have to screw it up.

Of course, everyone knows it needs to be believable.  In fact, that's what we spend most of our time on. It needs to be something that you either normally do already or that your spouse would think is reasonable for you. If you never go anywhere, it's time for you to get a life.  Not only will this help you become a much more interesting person, but it will help establish an alibi should you need one in the future. If you regularly volunteer at your local homeless shelter (or animal shelter or whatever), it will be pretty easy to peel away a few hours from that activity to use for some playtime. For godsake, don't use going to the library as an alibi if you don't have a library card, and if you hate museums, don't use going to an art museum as an alibi.  Use some common sense, will ya?

It also needs to be verifiable. This is the one that catches many of us and, yes, this is the one that caught me. I had planned for my time one day a couple of years ago so I could spend a nice 6-8 hours with JJ. I picked a business trip as an alibi, a client that I had been seeing fairly regularly recently and that was located 3 hours away.  The round trip would be 6 hours of driving, plus two hours of meeting time while I was there.  There it is.  8 hours. What I didn't plan on was that Hubby would be tracking my mileage.  If I had actually gone where I said I was going, I would have logged about 350-380 miles on the car. Instead, I logged 60 miles. I had some 'splainin' to do.

You should have seen his face.  He had that, "Gotcha!" look and he was acting victorious until he realized what every newly awakened cuckolded spouse eventually asks.  What now? Yeah, he caught me, but what was he going to do then? Anyway, that's another story. (For those who don't know, I didn't try to wiggle out of it.  I fessed up.)

The point of this part of the story is that I truly came to appreciate how important it is that an alibi be verifiable. Now when I establish an alibi, I know how many miles I'd log round trip if I actually went there and I make sure that my rendezvous location will be within a few miles of that distance.

If you suspect that your spouse may be tracking your whereabouts via GPS (or if you just want to be extra careful), pick a meeting location that is near your alibi spot, and park at the alibi spot. If you're being tracked through your phone, consider leaving your phone in the car, where you're supposed to be, if you can. If you can't, get a room that is closest to your alibi location.

Also, for an alibi to be truly verifiable, if you say you're going to be with a friend, that friend should know that he/she is an alibi and should be willing to vouch for you. That doesn't necessarily mean that the friend has to know your prowling.  For example, I have a good friend who knows I spend most of my time locked in the tower (my home), under Hubby's careful watch. She knows I rarely get out these days and that makes me crazy.  So, from time to time, I can call her and say, "Hi Suzy.  I've got cabin fever and I'm dying to do some shopping.  Can I tell Hubby I'm having lunch with you?"  She says yes, happy to be helping a friend, and we agree on where we went shopping and that we didn't buy anything.  You may ask why I just didn't ask Hubby if I could go shopping (or tell him I was going shopping, depending on how liberated you are), but that won't work for me because Hubby needs to be able to verify my story, which he can do if I'm with a friend. If I'm going out alone, Hubby hears that as "fucking around" and more deadbolts are added to the tower doors.

There were a couple of times a while back when I said I was going to Cara's house for lunch or a BBQ. To help verify that, Cara texted me a few photos of the BBQ, herself, the food, and I saved them to my phone and texted them to Hubby. Then Cara texted him a picture of herself at the BBQ with a little message, "Wish you could have joined us!" Hubby was happy.  Heck, what man wouldn't be happy to get a text and a photo from Cara? :-)

If you use a friend as an alibi, and that friend doesn't know it, you're rolling the dice.  What if your spouse runs into him/her at the gym or the grocery store or the park or wherever when he/she is supposed to be with you?  What if your spouse asks him/her about your outing a week or two from now and that person just looks back at him confused?

Finally, don't sabotage your own alibi. If you said you were going to share a meal with a friend, don't come home ravenously hungry. Dress appropriately for wherever you are supposed to be. If it's a work appointment, don't wear your jeans (unless that's what you wear for work appointments). You also need to talk about your alibi without looking or sounding nervous. Talking about it needs to come easy to you.  If it doesn't, re-think it.

If you feel like this alibi business feels slimy and scummy, that's because it is. Lying to Hubby is the worst part about prowling, by far.  I've even cancelled a couple of play dates because I just couldn't lie to him on those days. There was no particular reason except I just couldn't do it. As most of you know, my preference would be to be completely honest and upfront about the whole thing. Unfortunately, that's not what Hubby wants.

Do you have a favorite alibi?  Is it simple, believable, and verifiable? Have you ever been caught because you used a bad alibi?

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Use Your Teeth

Random Thoughts on a Sunday Afternoon

It's Sunday afternoon and I have the house all to myself.  Don't ask how it happened, just accept that it is a miracle that is unlikely to be repeated soon. I decided to post because I have a bunch of thoughts running through my brain that need a place to get out. So here I am, taking advantage of the opportunity to write without having to look over my shoulder.

  • If you haven't noticed, we have 5 new blogs on the blog roll on the right sidebar! Thank you to those who recommended them.  I'm familiar with all but one of them, and that one comes with great recommendations.  Please visit the blogs you see on the roll. I know you'll like them. If you have any others to recommend, just let me know in the comments or by sending me an email.  I love to share with my fellow prowlers.

  • I'm thinking of starting a Q&A feature.  People email in questions and I post the questions and answers.  What to you think?  I already do half of it.  People email me questions and I answer them, but I often think it would be good to share some of those questions and answers with everyone, as long as the person asking the question doesn't mind. They are questions about affairs and marriage and prowling. Right up our alley.  Let me know your thoughts.

  • I was hoping to have some playtime, but it didn't work out.  That always puts me in a bit of a funky mood. It's the connection with another human being I crave.  Things with Hubby are a bit distant these days, and when Hubby is distant and lover is busy I can start to feel a bit down and cranky. It's not rational, of course. It just is.

  • When I feel a little down, I'll sometimes search Google for sex news because it's hard to read sex news without laughing. Today, though, I came across an article with this headline - Ohio Man Admits to Having Sex with 100 Dead Women. Ewwww!  Apparently, this guy was a morgue attendant and he really did  fuck dead people while he was on the night shift. This made me wonder...Can you be a victim of rape if you're dead? In his deposition he admitted to attacking the women when he was drinking or using drugs.  Is it an attack if the person is dead? Don't get me wrong, it's bad and it's sick and it's not a good thing, but is it rape? I don't know.  I'm not so sure. Of course, families will sue now, and I'm sure they'll collect some damages, but I have no idea how those would be calculated. I also found it interesting how the article made it sound worse that he had sex with a pregnant woman who had been recently murdered. Is sex with a (formerly) pregnant dead woman worse that sex with a non-pregnant dead woman?  Is sex with a murder victim worse that sex with a woman who died from natural causes? And exactly how weird is it that I have written over 10 lines about this?

Have a great week, Prowlers! :-)

Top 10 posts for the Week of Aug. 10-16, 2014

Hi Everyone!  I hope you're having a great weekend. In case you missed anything, here are the 10 posts read the most this past week, in order from the most page views to the least.

The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 1 of 3)

Beefing Up the Blog Roll

The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 2 of 3)

The Unexpected Downside of Infidelity

Make Your Life Spectacular

10 Tips for Being a Good Fuck Buddy

Checking In

International Day of the Female Orgasm

10 Surefire Ways to Ruin Your Affair

The Great Dane and the Pomeranian

And just so you know, I updated some pages this week, too.  Sex, Sex, Only Sex now has more posts so it's current (I think), and Advice for Prowlers and Kat's Musings have also been updated.


Friday, August 15, 2014

Make Your Life Spectacular

I know you've heard or seen a million comments or tributes to Robin Williams lately, and you probably don't need any more, but this one is very brief - only one minute long - and it is perfect.  It says what needs to be said.

I have some things I want to share with you about depression and suicide and living, but not today, not yet. For now, I want Mr. Williams' own words to speak.

Friends, this is truly what I want for you. Make your life spectacular.

I write here a lot about making your life what you want it to be, living for the moment (Carpe Diem), and living purposefully rather than by default. They are great ideals, but very hard to implement. We usually don't make a serious effort to try until something jogs us out of our daily routine and addiction to all of the distractions that actually keep us asleep and unable to truly live.

The bottom line, though, is that it's a choice. I have friends who desperately need some change in their lives, but they won't make it because they think they can't. They are wrong.  They can, but they choose not to for a wide variety of reasons, some of them good and some of them bullshit. Mostly, it's about fear of one kind or another.

It's hard to make your life spectacular if you won't let go of the fear and jump anyway.

This is not about depression at all, or any of the things that may or may not have led to Mr. Williams' death.  It's about life.  It's about the same 1,440 minutes that we all have in each day and how you choose to spend them. It's about choosing your life one minute at a time.

It's about choosing to make your life spectacular.