Monday, December 31, 2012

After the Wedding

I opened the door and G was standing there smiling. I backed up to let him in, hiding behind the door as it opened. The room was dimly lit. The only light was from the bathroom, just enough to be able to see but not as harsh as all the other lights in the room. I wished I had been one of those sophisticated women who always has a scarf to throw over a lamp when dimmer lighting is called for, but I wasn't very sophisticated at all.  I'm still not, but I do usually have a scarf with me for that purpose these days.

He stepped in the room and I shut the door behind him. There was no speaking at all.  That was part of the deal I made him agree to.  I was afraid that we'd wake my mother in the next room.

He took off his jacket and threw it over a chair.  Then he came over and kissed me. The height differential made it awkward again, so he backed up to the bed, sat down, and then pulled me to him. We were almost exactly the same height then. We kissed for a long time. He was an excellent kisser. An excellent kisser with a big cock. Not a bad combination. I have cum quite a few times over the past couple of decades thinking about what I could so with that boy now, but he's not that same boy anymore. And I'm not that girl.

Eventually, he stopped kissing me and started getting undressed. I didn't. I was shy.  I have no idea why.  He had seen me half naked earlier in the afternoon. There really wasn't any reason to hide, but I was still nervous.

He climbed into bed and motioned for me to lay beside him. I scurried to comply quickly.  I was good at following orders. If he would just tell me what to do, I'd be fine.

He kissed me some more, and slid his hand under my nightgown.  I could feel his hardness against me and, wow!, he was really hard. Then he whispered in my ear, "Get on top of me."

I thought, Good! An order.  I can do that! But then I thought, Didn't he agree not to speak at all?

I straddled him quickly, hiking my nightgown up to my waist, then lifting up a bit to take him inside me. I started rocking my hips forward and back, slowly at first, then a little faster. I watched his face to see some sign that I was doing it right, or not, but I couldn't tell. I could tell that I was getting excited, though, and I quit worrying about him and started moving on him the way that felt the best to me. I knew I was close. I closed my eyes, and just as I was about to cum, he grabbed my hips forcefully and pulled me down on him, holding me deeply impaled on him and still. He whispered a moan as he came.

I hissed, "No!" His eyes shot open and he sat up and wrapped his arms around me, looking at me seriously.  "No?" he said. "Are you ok?"

"Shhh!" I chastised.  Then I leaned right against his ear and said, "I was almost there.  You finished too fast."

He laughed, quietly of course. Then he whispered back, "Don't worry.  You'll have another chance." And he flashed that king size smile that made my tummy flutter.

We relaxed on the bed for awhile, just holding each other and kissing. I had no idea how long it would be until I got my next chance, but I learned it was easy to tell. He got hard again and I looked at him and whispered, "Now?"  He laughed and said, "Yes, Kat, now."

I pulled up my nightie and straddled him again. He broke our talking rule and said in a normal voice, "Take that thing off." He was referring to my nightgown and it sounded like an order to me. I didn't hesitate. I just pulled it off over my head and tossed it on the floor. He gasped audibly. Now I was embarrassed. I know I blushed. He just reached up and caressed my cheek for a moment as I started riding him. This time, I did it may way from the beginning, and I was ready to cum in no time.

He was still breaking the talking rule, but at least it was quieter. He saw that I was starting to cum, and he said, "That's it, Sweetie. That's it." Then I let go and let my body do what it wanted. I came hard, very hard. He exhaled a "Holy shit!" and then held my hips down again like he did before, but I was ok with it by then.

I collapsed on the bed next to him and he said, "You've definitely done this before." I smiled and whispered, "Maybe."

We spend the rest of the night until 5:30 in the morning alternating between kissing and fucking. I came once more.  He came every damn time. I really don't know how many times we did it but I know it was more than 6, and I had to force him to leave in the morning.

The strange thing about that night was that we only did it in one position - me on top riding him. I was waiting for him say he wanted something else and he never did. However, a few months later I came back.  By myself. For a week.

But that's another story.....

Sunday, December 30, 2012

The Wedding Guest

I saw him for the first time at the wedding reception. It was my cousin's wedding. G was watching the belly dancer who was providing entertainment.  No, it is not my family's custom to  have a belly dancer at our weddings, and I can assure you that my grandmother was mortified.  I was intrigued by it all. After her "performance," various men jumped up to dance with her and tuck money in her panties.

G took a big gulp of champagne directly out of the bottle and stepped up to dance. He was very tall (6'6") and lanky and, to be honest, he was not a good dancer, but no one cared. As another man stepped up to dance, G tucked a $20 bill in her panties and stepped back. His friends were laughing and patting him on the back, as if his ugly dance and monetary contribution was some sort of rite of manhood. I just didn't get it. But I kept looking at him.

As I said, he was tall.  He had blonde hair and blue eyes and a very long face with a squared jaw that made his face look kind of like a rectangle. I wouldn't say he handsome, but he wasn't unattractive, either.

He noticed me staring at him and he walked over. I was terrified.  He was 22.  I was 16. Being noticed by a real man was exciting! He introduced himself but I already knew who he was and he already knew who I was. We found a couple of empty chairs and sat down to chat.  We made small talk while my mother watched me closely from across the room. I was annoyed that she was watching me like a hawk, as if she was doing her motherly duty.  In an hour she'd be drunk off her ass and completely unconcerned about me and my brothers. I was sure the motherly act she was putting on now was just for the benefit of my grandmother.

G could tell I was uncomfortable, so he asked if I wanted to go for a walk. Hell yes I wanted to get out of there. He took my hand and we went outside.

The reception was held in a hall in a rural area by the coast. It was cool outside, almost cold. G took off his coat and put it around my shoulders. I was so impressed and I felt so grownup.We walked a while until we came to a little shed with a grassy area behind it, hidden from the reception hall and the road. That's when he kissed me. He was so tall and I was so short that he bent way down and I still had to stand up on my tippy toes to kiss him. I still remember that kiss 32 years later. It was magical.

The next thing I knew  he was kneeling and tugging on me, trying to get me to lay down in the grass. He never stopped kissing me. I just let him lead me. I felt him sliding his hands up my dress and under my bra. I remember I had to remind myself to breathe because I realized I was holding my breath. Then he slid his hand down under my panty hose (yes, those were the days when you wore hose with a dress always) and gently pushed a finger inside me. I gasped and looked at him. He stopped for a moment and asked if I was o.k., if I wanted him to stop All I said was, "Don't stop." He smiled and kissed me again.

When he started fingering my clit, I finally realized where this was going to go. I looked around nervously.  I was definitely not a virgin, but I had never had sex out in the open like this, in broad daylight. What would happen in someone else come out for a walk? While I was running through the scenarios of what I would do if we got caught, G was removing my shoes and hose and pulling my dress up above my waist.

I watched him as he stared at my pussy while he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants. His cock literally bounced out as he pulled his pants down to his knees. I laughed. I hadn't yet learned never to laugh at a man's cock for any reason. He looked at me strangely for a moment. I think he was trying to decide if he was offended or not, but he didn't think long because he drove his cock into me quickly.

I gasped and grabbed onto him, my arms wrapped around his chest. He fucked me slowly - long, deep strokes. His was the biggest cock I had experienced up that point and I was unprepared for how different it would feel. Each thrust shook me and I just held on. At that age, I was completely unaware of how to actively participate, but I assumed I was doing just fine because every now and then he would groan something like, "Damn, you are so tight," and "Yeah, Baby, juts like that," which I thought was strange because I didn't think I was doing anything. I now know that if you're a cute young gal, you really don't have to do anything. Just being cute, young and tight is usually enough.

Pretty soon, it was over. I didn't cum, but I didn't expect to. I was way too nervous. He seemed disappointed, though. As I pulled my hose back on, he asked if he could see me later. My family would be in town for a few days.  We were staying in a hotel with two adjoining rooms and it turned out that for one night -that night- I'd have one of those rooms all to .myself, so I told him the hotel and room number and we arranged for him come by at midnight.  Everyone else should be asleep by then.

He kissed me again, then he took my hand and we walked back to the reception. My mom was standing in front of me asking me where we went within 15 seconds of us walking through the door. I told her we went for a walk. She didn't say a word as she picked some grass out of my hair. G dropped my hand and walked away quickly.

I don't remember much about the rest of the reception. G left early without saying anything to me. But I couldn't get him off my mind. I hoped he would show up at the hotel that night.  I didn't know why I was so nervous earlier, except for the fact that we were outside, but I fully expected to enjoy myself a bit more if I could get him in a nice comfortable bed. I imagined how I'd ride him then and what it would feel like to cum with that great big cock inside me.

The hours didn't tick by fast enough, but soon it was almost midnight.  I was wearing my white cotton nightgown with little pink ribbons. I was a bit embarrassed about that, but I didn't have much else to wear excepts jeans and dresses.

Then, a few minutes after midnight, there was a gentle knock on the door......

Friday, December 28, 2012

Miniskirts and Rape

It was reported several days ago that Swaziland had banned miniskirts, bare midriff tops and low rise jeans for women because those clothes provoked rape, or at least made the crime easier for rapists to commit. The consequence could be six months in jail for a woman who breaks the new law.

We learned yesterday that Swaziland officials say it was all a big mistake.  There is no such ban, they say, but there probably should be, and women should not expose themselves to rape by wearing those types of clothing.

I understand the problem.  Rape is out of control in many African nations.  In South Africa, a study by the Medical Research Council found that 1 in 4 men admitted to having raped at least one woman or girl. There's a huge outcry to address the issue and stop the problem.

Heck, rape is a problem just about everywhere.

But this approach is just logically wrong. If I leave my house unlocked and someone breaks in, should there be a law requiring me to keep my house locked at all times, making me the criminal if someone breaks in again?

You may say that rape is different because men just can't control themselves when they see women in miniskirts, but let's take my house analogy a bit further. What if I have a really nice house and you can see my expensive big flat screen TV and some other very cool stuff from the street because I have a nice big picture window. Does that make it my fault if someone robs me? What about all those law abiding people who could also see my stuff, but didn't break in? Why was the visual of my stuff just too much of a temptation and, therefore, the cause of the robbery for one guy, but not for the others? It wasn't. That would be blaming the homeowner, I mean, victim.

But just to drive a nail in the coffin of the argument that miniskirts cause or "provoke" rape, what about all of the women who have been conservatively dressed but were raped anyway? This by far represents the majority of rape victims worldwide. What provoked those rapes?

To be fair, if I knew I were in a place where there was a high incidence of rape, I would not be wearing revealing clothes anyway, not because I think miniskirts cause rape, but because being more conservatively dressed would make me feel more secure and because, if I were attacked, I wouldn't want to make his job any easier. The more time the criminal has to spend fumbling with my clothes means I may have just a few more seconds to get free and get away.

So, if it's not about miniskirts, what is it about?  Honestly, I'm amazed that we, as a species, are still having this conversation, but clearly we need to.

It's about the violence.
It's about the violent domination of women.
It's about  power.
It's about hopelessness and attempting to regain power.

Power is the need that is filled, if only temporarily.  Violence is the strategy.  Sex is the weapon.

Let me share a story to illustrate my point. It's a pretty horrific story; forgive me for that, please. A 76-year old woman in Sacramento was raped in her home in November 2010.  I strongly suspect she was not dressed like a hoochie-mama. She couldn't help much with the investigation because she had suffered a stroke.

In September 2012, he raped her in her home again. Yes, the same guy. They confirmed it with DNA evidence. Then they finally put in some surveillance cameras and, just a few weeks ago, he came back to rape her a third time, but this time, they caught him on camera. By the way, it turns out that he was a police officer. He's not anymore because he was fired the day he was arrested.

Do you think it was all about sex for him? Or how suggestively the 76-year-old stroke victim was dressed? Unlikely. And it's pretty obvious that she didn't bring this on herself.

I applaud folks who are proposing solutions for the rape epidemic, especially in Africa, even if the ideas are not good ones. Taking rape seriously is an important start. But it's time to move beyond the belief that women provoke rape.

To go back to my analogy, we would never say, "Well, the owner of that house (locked or not) is responsible because she has such nice stuff." I may be stupid if I don't lock my house, but that doesn't make the robber less of a criminal.

There is so much to say on the topic in general that I'll be sharing a few more posts with you on related topics like the difference between rape fantasies and real rape (nothing screws up a good rape fantasy like really getting raped...seriously) and that fine line between holding rapists responsible for their behavior and demonizing all men (the first is good, the second is not).

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this topic, Prowlers (not the topic about locking my house, but the one about miniskirts and rape).

For those of you moaning, "Why so serious, Kat?" Don't worry. There's always plenty of naughtiness to come.

Thursday, December 27, 2012

Don't You Hate It When.....

... you have to come into the office on your vacation to let the phone guy in, so you decide to work on configuring your new computer while he's doing his thing and it's frustrating because Windows 8 is brand new and a bit strange, and the strangest thing so far is that there's a little (not so little) space on the home screen that scrolls through all the photos in your picture folder, whether you want them to or not, and you really don't want them to because you have some photos in there that no one should see at work, but you can't finish the job because the phone guy comes up from the basement to explain what he did and, even though he's a very attractive young man, you're not into him because you're a little annoyed with him because he's the reason you had to come in to work on your vacation, even though it's not his fault, so you turn your chair around to talk to him and he's explaining.... Blah blah blah.... And it's all bullshit anyway because he's saying he couldn't finish the job because someone somewhere didn't do something right and he needs to come back on Friday which means you'll lose another day of vacation, and you're getting even more annoyed when you notice that he's not looking at you anymore; he's looking over your shoulder, and you turn around to see what he's looking at and you see a picture of JJ's cock in your ass on your monitor, and you close your eyes even though you know that won't make it go away and it won't make the phone guy disappear, so you turn around and now the phone guy is smiling at you as he says, "I've never seen that in an office before".....?

Yeah, I hate it when that happens.

Men in Boxes

I like my men in boxes. Not real boxes, but figurative ones.

I knew a man once who liked to put a box-like steel cage around a woman's head before he had sex with her. It was an unusual dominant fetish, and while I don't like to call anyone's sexual practice "weird" because there is such a wide range of normal in the sexual landscape, this guy was, well, weird.

Anyway, as I was saying, I like my men in neat little boxes. Husband. Lover. Potential lover. Friend. Fuck buddy. Colleague. Employee. Client. Acquaintance. When they are in their boxes, I know where I stand. I feel in control of the situation.

Every now and then, someone jumps to another box. A fuck buddy becomes a lover. A friend becomes a colleague. A lover becomes only a friend. Sometimes the transition is smooth and easy, sometimes it's not, but as long as I know what box they're in, I know the parameters of the relationship and I know how to act.

In many cases, they'll jump back and forth between boxes or straddle more than one box. That's ok, too, as long as I know what boxes I'm working with.

The problems start, though, when a man refuses to get in a box or identify with a box. I'm not saying that he needs to be in the box *I* want him in. To the contrary, I'm perfectly ok with him picking his own box. Well, maybe I'm not "perfectly ok" with it, but I can tolerate it. It might take me a while to adjust if I don't like the box he picked, but I will.

There's a man in my life, let's call him K, who has me off balance. I didn't know why for a long time (months) , but I figured it out last night - he won't get in a box. He's clearly in the "friend" box, but he effortlessly dances me around the other boxes and every now and then we'll dip and I'll think we're going into another, but he spins me away. I get a bit shaky and confused, but then he sits securely back in the friend box and the parameters of the relationship become clear to me again.... until the music starts playing again.

I can't say this is bad. It's just unusual for a man in my life to not pick a box clearly and decisively. And don't think I force them into it. No, I've found that men want to be in a box very quickly (and no, Gentleman, that was not intended to be a metaphor for sex, although it could be, couldn't it?). A man meets a woman and ***BAM*** he wants in that fuck buddy box right away or he walks away with interest only in the acquaintance box.... Or he's struck by cupid and he pursues the lover box.

It's unusual for a man to resist getting in a box. It's unusual for me not to be in control. It's unusual for me to feel so off balance.

But K is definitely not usual or  average. He's quite remarkable, actually.

There has been no sex. Will there be? I have no idea. I usually know almost immediately if there will be sex, but K won't stay in a box, which I find intriguing and fascinating, frustrating and alluring.

And so we dance..... and he won't let me lead. I trip and stumble frequently. I say the wrong thing or stutter and giggle like a nervous teenage girl. I wonder if he'll be patient with me.

This Kat is used to being firmly in charge of any situation until and unless I choose to exchange that control for sexual pleasure. Not having that control to begin with is unsettling, but I think it might be good for me.

Friday, December 21, 2012

Close Up

One time JJ was fucking my ass and he said, "I wish you could see this.  It looks amazing!" It really wasn't fair that he could see it perfectly and there was no way I could get a great view given my position.

Another time, he was fisting me (and I l-o-v-e that!!!) and he said it again, "I sure wish you could see this!" I really did want to see it, but if you've ever had a man's fist and wrist up inside you, you know that mobility is limited.

So, we talked about it and decided that he would take some pictures for me the next time. But we forgot. It's kind of hard when you're in the heat of the moment to stop, get the camera, and get a good shot.  It's not like a porn movie, either. In porn, there's a camera person, a lighting director, the "acting" director, and a bunch of horny groupies watching. Here's how it went in our photo session:

Anal shots - I stoked him for a while to spread the lube, and because I just wanted to stroke him and hold his thick cock in my hands.  Then he got in position, positioned his cock right up against my asshole and I started leaning back. The painful part is initial entry, but that passes quickly....but not this time.  Just after the head was in, he stopped and said, "Wait!" I groaned, "What?! What do you mean, 'wait'?" "Let me get my camera," he said. So he started reaching for his phone, which was on the night stand, while I tried not to move and as I started using Lamaze breathing to deal with the unending initial entry. I started to think, Is a picture really worth it?

You tell me.  Here are the two shots he took.

After the photos were taken, he tossed his phone aside, grabbed my hips and fucked me very, very hard - my reward for being so patient.

You should be impressed that I'm actually willing to share my 48 year old ass with you, Prowlers. But it's only for you.  I wouldn't show these to just anyone.

My reaction when I see these is to get instantly horny.  JJ has me trained to have a Pavlovian response, I think. I see his cock and I get wet anticipating a few orgasms.

The fisting shots were also pretty amazing, but I think I'll share those another time, ;-)

Hubby's Least Favorite Restaurant

I was having dinner with Hubby last night in the same restaurant where I asked him for an open marriage about a year and a half ago and he shut me down. To be more accurate, that was where I first asked him for an open marriage.  I've asked several times since then, but none of those had the same impact as the first time. It had such a profound impact on him that he refuses to sit in the same booth where we sat that day.  I think that's a little silly, but I'll sit wherever he wants.

Anyway, we were there last night and the topic of three-time Olympian Suzy Favor Hamilton came up.  As you may have heard, she has been working as a high priced call girl, oops...I mean, Vegas (and around the country) for the last year.  She was caught and exposed, and the reason she gave for her activities was that it helped her deal with depression, the stress in her life, and some difficulties in her marriage.

Here's how part of my conversation went with Hubby:

Kat:  Really? Sex with strangers as a treatment for depression and stress? So, why did I go with therapy?  Sex would have been more fun.

Hubby: Don't even think about it.  You're not an Olympian.

Kat (ignoring Hubby's comment): And therapy costs money.  What she did made money.

Hubby:  Spend that same amount of time on the business and you'll make even more.  Then you can pay for the therapy I'm going to need as a result of the stress of this conversation.

Kat: But then we wouldn't have to have an "open marriage" because it would be my job. I think it's a win-win.

Hubby (getting frustrated): We don't have an open marriage and we're not going to have an open marriage!

Kat: I know. I was just thinking that I was fucking around for free and she was getting paid. Just seems like a more efficient approach........

Hubby: What is it with this restaurant? I hate this place.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

End of an Era...and Some Other Thoughts

End of an Era

I never thought this would happen, but Strange Hotel Guy sold the hotel. The place that JJ and I used as our "home base" for about a year and a half is now owned by someone else. It's really a shame because it took us a long time to train Strange Hotel Guy (JJ calls him Creepy Hotel Guy), his wife Mrs. Strange, and the Strange kids. They knew which room we wanted. They didn't require a credit card.  Toward the end, they didn't even require ID.

I walked in once and Mrs. Strange said, "Hi, Kat! How are you today?" (Wow! She knew my name! I guess showing up over 50 times had an impact.)

What I said: "I'm great, thank you.  How are you?"
What I thought; "I'm awesome! Just a few minutes away from a nice hard fucking.  How's Mr. Strange serving you these days?"

No more Strange Hotel Guy.  No more Strange Family.  Eegads! This means we have to find another hotel that won't take a credit card.  And we have train new staff all over again. {sigh}

Truly, this is the end of an era. Maybe it's time to take it back out to the country roads again.

A Few Things I Have to Get Off My Chest

This first thing I had decided I wasn't ever going to mention, but I think enough time has passed (several weeks) so I can be somewhat graceful about it. There is a certain blog that posts a Top 100 Sex Bloggers list each year.  The list is decided by a single individual - the owner and author of the blog. I'm sure she gets some input from her friends, which makes perfect sense, of course, but there is no formal process for making the determination. It's just the blogs she likes.

However, most people are not aware of this and they assume that the blogs on the list are the cream of the crop. To be fair, there are some excellent blogs on her list. There's also some crap.  But that's just MY individual opinion.

Last year, I was on the list. I think I was number 35 or something like that.  This year, I wasn't on the list at all. Huh?  Really? Not at all? Yes, Prowlers, not at all. Clearly, I did something to piss this person off, even though I have never said a negative word about her or her blog. I'm not mentioning her name now or the name of her blog so I don't break that record.

But it did piss me off.  More than a little, certainly more than it should have.

"What's the big deal, Kat?" Well, obviously, my ego is bruised. But it's not just that.  Being on her list is a traffic bonanza because lots of people search for lists of sex blogs.  Many of you found PWK through that list, didn't you?

I've passed "getting it off my chest" and now I'm moving officially into whining.  It takes a lot of work to keep a blog going. Regular posting isn't as easy as it seems. Being creative and producing quality posts are not a walk in the park, either. I don't do it to be on anyone's list. I do it for myself...and for you guys.

I should stop now or I'll say something I regret.

Next topic.....

The topic of LOVE has come up recently in several emails and conversations with readers, so I want to review a few things here. I wrote about Heartache about a year ago. The point of that post was to keep your eyes open and keep your wits about you when you're in an affair or affair-type relationship.  I've had my heart stomped on a few times now. It sucks. But I'm still a believer in loving.  So far, after the pain subsides, I've never regretted loving someone, but I have regretted holding myself back and not letting myself love.

Here's another post about love in an extramarital relationship - That Pesky L Word. This one is definitely worth a read.

For the friend who asked me recently if she should pull back because the man she's in love with doesn't love her..... I am SO the wrong person to answer this question, but for what it's worth.... Don't think you can change him. Accept him for who he is. If you can really be happy without him loving you (unlikely), then go for it, but don't assume you can make him love you or want you more. If you can't live with the fact that he's always going to keep that emotional wedge between you, then by all means, protect yourself emotionally.  Either pull back emotionally or end the relationship. Take care of yourself. Do what feels right.  Usually, if you're honest with yourself, you know what that is.

A final thought on that.... Generally speaking, I'd rather regret something I did than something I didn't do.  I'm just sayin'.....

As for the end of the world.....

Well, it's been nice knowing you, Prowlers. Gee, since the world is ending tomorrow and there won't be any backlash, I should probably just speak my mind on the 100 Sex Blogger list, huh? LOL. I don't think so.

Ryan wrote a special post just for this event. It's the End of the World As We Know It is a great title and a great song. For those of you who may not be familiar with Ryan's blog, The Ashley Madison Adventures of  Regular Guy Gone Bad, Ryan references music a lot.....and food. And he's funny. Take a few minutes and read some of his posts.  You'll like them.  But read them quickly because the world is ending, so you don't have much time.

I was talking with JJ this week and one of us brought up the end of world. Here's a snippet of that conversation:

Kat: If the end of the world on Friday is actually the Rapture, then I won't be going anywhere.

JJ: Me, either.  I guess I'll see you next month, then.

Seriously, I don't believe the world will end tomorrow.  However, it shouldn't matter. We should all be prepared to go at any time. Have you lived the life you wanted to live?  Have you done the things you wanted to do? I learned this lesson from Steve

Live like there's no tomorrow.

Live now. Love now. 

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Christmas Hydrangea

JJ gave me this lovely hydrangea plant today. While you may or may not be impressed, I was. It was a very thoughtful gift for several reasons. First, it's not easy to find a gift I can keep. Roses would be lovely, but I couldn't bring them home or keep them, but I can explain hydrangeas. I love to garden. Anyone could have given me hydrangeas or I could have picked some up myself.

But there's more.  All flowers have a meaning. Hydrangea flowers represent heartfelt, deep feelings when given as a gift. They also express thankfulness to a person with an understanding heart. Isn't that sweet?

I'll plant them outside my window and think of JJ whenever I look at them.

Take note, Gentlemen. Simple, but meaningful, wins every time. At least it does with me.

Friday, December 14, 2012

A Stupid Prowler Story - Yes, It Really Happened

This story is so full of fuck-ups interesting happenings that I just had to share it with you. Here it is in a nutshell:

Cop has affair with mistress.  Cop works the night shift and spends at least 57 nights playing with mistress instead of bring on patrol. Cop falsifies all sorts of records to cover his tracks (of course). Cop parks his patrol car out in front of mistress's house every time he "visits." Neighbor calls police to complain about the police being parked out front so often. Cop gets caught. Cop "retires" after 18 years on the force and draws a full pension. Cop is charged with 80 counts of official misconduct and 25 counts of falsifying business records. Presumably, the affair ends. Mistress makes details of the affair public - like what they did when they were together and the fact that the cop sometimes left his gun where her kids could have reached it.

But here's the part that blew my hair back.....

Mistress sues the county for $10 million for failing to properly supervise the cop while he was on duty.


By the way, the cop was married and she was not.

Okay, Prowlers, how many of you can identify the mistakes the cop made in this situation?

Here's a link to the news story if you want to read about it yourself.

The Thing About Marriage Vows...

When you get married and you say, "I do," that's a response to a "yes or no" question.  Are you in this thing 'til death do you part, or not? It's not conditional.  You are typically not given the option of saying, "I do, as long as she keeps all of her vows perfectly and as long as she doesn't get fat. Otherwise, I can jump ship if I want."

No, each of you affirms vows to each other, but independently of each other.

So, what happens when one of you breaks your vows?  Does the other one have the right to leave? I don't think so.  They have no more of a right to leave than if their spouse never cheated. Why? Because of their own vow not to leave.

If my husband cheats on me (which he has), that's one issue, but I made my own promise to him never to leave. That's sort of what that "in good times and bad, for better or worse" part was about.

I know there are lots of folks out there who believe that infidelity is sufficient reason to break that vow and take off. Heck, even the Bible says it's o.k. to get divorced over infidelity, not that you have to, but you can if you want. Clearly, though, I don't believe in that tit for tat perspective, especially when it comes to marriage, families, and children.

To those people who use the argument that if a spouse cheats it's o.k. to divorce them because they broke the vows first, I ask you this: What about the other vows? Most marriage vows include a promise to love,  honor, and cherish your spouse.  Well, I have seen many men (and women, for that matter) treating their spouses in a way that is demonstrating that they clearly don't honor and cherish them.  It should be o.k. to get out of the marriage because that was a break of the vows, right?

No?  Where are the Marriage Vow Police when you need them?

Apparently, it's only that pesky sexual infidelity issue that gives you a "Get Out of Marital Jail Free" card. But only in the minds of those who are unwilling to accept responsibility for their own actions and their own promises. I wonder if they operate that way in the rest of life.  Is the value of their word always contingent on the behavior of others?

Human beings are just that - human.  We don't always "cherish" our spouses as we should. We're not always faithful. But families stay together because we depend on our spouse to honor the "'Til death do us part" part of the vows even when we fail, and our spouse hopes that we'll do the same when they fall short.

My belief is that the contingencies should have been reviewed prior to the marriage, at least for those things that could reasonably happen. If she becomes permanently disabled, will you stay? If she cheats, will you stay? If not, maybe you shouldn't get married. Or add that to your vows.  Make a promise to stay with her 'til death do you part, unless she's unfaithful.  Say that while you're in the church, in your tux, in front of your friends and family. No?  You don't want to do that?  Huh.

Now I'm not finding fault with anyone who is divorced.  People get divorced for all sorts of reasons and they usually think their reasons are good enough. That's not my business. But to the folks who think that infidelity is a no questions asked release valve, please tell yourself (and your spouse and your children) the truth - regardless what your spouse did or didn't do,  you made a vow that you're not willing to honor, and that's why you're leaving.

As for me, the "'til death do us part" vow was, and is, the most important one.  It means that I'm in it for the duration. It means that Hubby knows I'll be there for him when he falters, intentionally or not. When I found out about Hubby's cheating, I knew I wouldn't be leaving, and that's the first thing I told him in response. I said, "I'm not going anywhere.  This will all be o.k."  When he found out about mine, that's what he said to me. You're either in this thing together or your not.

Someone who is looking for an excuse to leave the marriage will find one, regardless of what his spouse has or hasn't done.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Now That's My Kind of Present!

Have I mentioned that I love presents? Well, HH and Lola, of My Sex Life With Lola, shared these two very nice photos with me, but they are really presents for all of you, Prowlers.

Instead of telling the back story myself, here's what HH wrote:

"Here's a couple of new and special pics from Lo.  She was all dolled up to go out on the town and then I told her that I had a little present for her.  I told her it was under the tree and she had to look for it.  She immediately got down.  I snapped this pic quickly and then gave her the present - from behind."

Enjoy! And then visit their blog -

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Is Sex Important?

It seems like a silly question, doesn't it? Of course sex is important.  The problem is how important it is.

Most men think it's more important than it really is, and most women think it's less important than it really is. It's that gap that leads to a lot of unhappiness in marriage and a good portion of the infidelity in the world.

On the other side of the coin, most men think that sexual infidelity is much less significant than it really is and most woman think it's more significant than it really is. It's that gap that leads to a lot of divorces.

So how do men and women who stay married for decades navigate these murky waters? Some stay together in an unhappy and often sexless (or sexually unsatisfying)  marriage.  Some cheat. Some decide to try the open marriage option. Some hang on as long as they can before eventually divorcing. Some choose to talk about it openly, acknowledge the difficulty, and work constantly toward a resolution that is not just acceptable, but satisfying for both of them. No matter how you slice it, it's not easy.

I think the trick is to remember that your spouse sees it differently than you do.  There is no point in trying to convince him that sex shouldn't be as important to him because you will fail. Why?  Because it is important to him! And there's also no point, Gentlemen, in trying to convince your wife that sex should be more important to her.

Men are also at a disadvantage because women talk to each other.  And what do they tell each other about sex? That their husbands want it too much, that they think it's more important than it really is.  As they talk, they reinforce their own perspectives and miss the obvious - No matter what your girlfriends say, if your husband says he needs more sex to be happy and you want him to be happy (which you do or why would you have married him?),  then you should be having more sex with him.  It's pretty simple, isn't it? Unless his dick is chasing you several times a day, every day, what's the problem?

Remember my friend, Steve? He told me once that he was having a discussion, again, with his wife about the frequency of sex. He wanted it three times a week, but he could he happy with twice. His wife told him that she had talked about it with her friends and they told her that he was being completely unreasonable because no one who had been married as long as they had been married (40 years) had sex that often. She actually put the opinion of her friends ahead of her own husband's happiness, mostly because it reinforced what she wanted anyway. She also told him that women her age shouldn't have to have sex anymore. Seriously.  And then she wondered why he cheated.  She thought that because sex was unimportant to her that it shouldn't be important to him, either.

What women like Steve's wife don't understand is that women generally enjoy sex more if they have an emotional connection with someone.  Men, on the other hand, are more likely to slide into, or stay with, an emotional connection if they have their sexual needs met. Both parties have to give in order to get what they want. Do you think this is an accident?  I don't. I am pretty certain that we were made this way. Men and women complement each other physically (insert tab A into slot B), emotionally, and in many other ways. The more a wife tries to make her husband like her ("once a month should be enough") or the more a husband tries to make his wife like him ("I don't care if you worked all day, made dinner, cared for the kids and cleaned until 10:00 pm., let's get it on!"), the more trouble they will encounter.

The real danger comes when each starts to think there is something wrong with the other for not having the same needs. A man wanting to have sex is perfectly normal.  And if your husband wants to have sex with you after decades of being married, count yourself very fortunate, Ladies. If you give him grief for it, you're just pretty stupid in my opinion, or you really want a divorce.

I've known women who were unhappy in their marriages and they pushed their husbands away sexually.  Then, when he cheated and they ended up divorced, the women acted like the victims. I'm not saying that infidelity is morally defensible, but there are two sides to every divorce and the sad "victim" is usually not a real victim at all.

If you're a woman and you don't want your husband to cheat, you need to recognize that sex matters to him and you need to give him some good sex. Notice I said "good sex."  You may also want to read 10 Tips for Wives to Keep Your Husband from Cheating. There's no guarantee that he won't cheat, but the odds are better if you take the suggestions I offer in that post.

If you're a man and you want your wife to give you more sex - and good sex - you need to back off a bit and come in from a different angle. Remember that she doesn't understand the how and why of how important sex is to you. Court her.  Make that emotional connection and then go for the sex.  This is a much more complex topic than this post can cover, so I'll write another. In the meantime, read What Women Really Want in Bed, and remember that to a woman, pressure is the anti-aphrodisiac.


Don't forget to check out this month's Sex Blog Chain post.  It's about Holiday Sex!

Kat Confessions - #1 Fucking the Teacher for a Grade

I thought it might be fun to start a new feature called Kat Confessions. I have plenty of secrets. Yes, I even have secrets I haven't shared with you, Prowlers. I thought I'd start with the time I fucked my way to a passing grade in a class.

I was a freshman in college.  The course was Calculus. Before I go any further, I need to say that I have since mastered the subject, but at the time it made no sense to me at all. I was really struggling, so the day before the deadline for dropping classes I went to the professor to let him know I'd be dropping the course.

He tried to talk me out of it. I did the best I could to explain to him that I could not afford to fail the class. I participated in some activities for which I had to maintain academic eligibility, and one of those was tied to scholarships. I wasn't going to let calculus  interfere with that.

Then he said, "What if I could guarantee you a passing grade?"

"How could you do that?" I asked.

He proceeded to tell me he would guarantee me a passing grade if I came to every single class session (not even one absence), turned in every single assignment, took every single test and quiz, and attended every small group tutoring session (offered five days a week in his office).

I clarified, "So even if I fail every test, I'll still get a passing grade as long as I do those things?"

"Yes," he said. "And one more thing....."

He paused. I got nervous. I was afraid he was going to say that I had to show positive progress over the semester (seriously, I had no clue what was going on in that class), so you can imagine how I relieved I was when he said that he wanted me to sleep with him once a week throughout the semester. That was the final requirement.

His inclusion of the sex part didn't come out of the blue. A couple of weeks before, I ran into him at a party. I was drunk.  He was charming, and he had a British accent.  Girls can't resist men with foreign accents. He was substantially older than me; I had just turned 18 and he had to be in his late 40's. But when he offered me a ride home as I was stumbling out of the party, the age difference didn't bother me at all. As he was driving toward my dorm, he asked, "Would you mind if we went to my place instead?"

There was a tiny voice inside me that was whispering that it might not be a great idea to fuck my calculus professor, but I arrogantly thought that I was a wise and worldly woman, so I agreed.

He lived about 40 minutes from campus, up in the mountains. The drive gave me plenty of time to start sobering up, which was disappointing because now I couldn't fool myself into thinking that I was drunk and unable to make rational decisions. No, I was heading fast to the sober side of the stream of thought and I was about to fuck my calculus professor. I turned and looked at him.  Yes, he had a British accent.  Yes, he was smart. But he really wasn't very attractive, at least not to an 18 year old girl woman. I remember thinking, I really hope he has a big dick.

We got to his house, which was really more like a cottage, a darling little place, and we went inside. He asked if I wanted some tea.  I didn't.  He pointed to the other room and said, "The bathroom is in there. The bed is over there.  You can hang your clothes on that chair.  I'll be in shortly." No pretense of romance. No getting in the mood. Okay.  I took off my clothes and crawled into bed. A few minutes later, he came in with a cup of tea in his hand.  He sat on the edge of the bed and drank his tea, making small talk. I can't even remember what he was talking about, but the whole situation seemed strange to me.

When he was finished with his tea, he stood up and took off his clothes and switched on the overhead light. Up until then, the only light had been from a lamp in the next room and the light in the kitchen. The light was so blinding that I covered my eyes. Then he pulled the covers off the bed so I had nothing to hide under. He stood there looking at me for a moment and he said, "Well, Miss Kat, I'm going to enjoy fucking you."

That's when I noticed his cock.  It was erect, of course, but that's not the first thing I noticed. Damn, I thought.  Average. It wasn't a bad cock, but I really had been hoping for something spectacular.

I scooched over to the edge of the bed where he was standing and I took his cock into my mouth and started sucking him. He exhaled loudly and grabbed me by the hair, guiding me to take him in deeply and come back until only the very tip was on my lips, then deeply again. He started moving me faster on him and moaning and I thought he was going to cum in my mouth, but instead he roughly pulled me off his cock and lifted his arm in the air so I was pulled up high on my knees and back a little. My hands were grasping for his hand to take the pressure off my scalp. My back was arched. My tits were thrust forward. I felt completely exposed in that brightly lit room. And for the first time, I was scared.

"You're too good at that, Kat," he said. "I don't want to cum yet. Not like that anyway." He pulled my hair tighter.  Was he really punishing me for being too good at giving head? I was confused.

He finally released me and pushed me back, telling me to lay on my back. As soon as I did, he grabbed my legs and pulled me to the edge of the bed. The height of the bed was perfect (I was sure that was no accident) and he slid inside me as he tugged me to closer to him one more time. I squealed a bit in shock, but he shot a chastising glance at me so I became quiet quickly. He grasped my ankles and spread my legs wide apart, and he started fucking me. It was slow at first, but within a couple of minutes it was forceful and violent.

He told me to keep my eyes on his. I was surprised at how uncomfortable that felt.  All I wanted to do was look away. Then he told me to pinch my nipples. And he fucked me harder.

I was there for about 6 hours and I did everything he told me to do. At times, he'd lay down to nap a bit.  When he did, he told me to kneel on the floor next to the bed, back a few feet so he could see me, with my knees spread wide apart and my hands clasped behind my neck. I could feel his cum dripping down my thighs, but I didn't dare move. When he woke up, he'd call me back to bed, tell me what to do, and he'd fuck me again.

As the sun was coming up, he came in my ass and then he told me to get dressed. I hurried to grab my clothes and I started getting dressed. He snapped at me, "No panties." He held out his hand and I handed him my panties.  Then I headed toward the bathroom.  He snapped at me again, "You can pee, but no cleaning up. I want my cum to be dripping out of you for awhile. And leave the door open."

What the fuck? I thought. This guy was weird, but it was kind of hot, too. I really wasn't sure what to think.

We went out to his car and before I got in, he told me to be sure to pull my skirt down far enough so I didn't get any cum on the seat. As we were driving down the mountain, he told me to give him my bra. I did.

As we approached campus, I reminded him what dorm to take me to, but he dropped me instead at the other end of campus, beyond the dining hall. When I asked him why, he said, "Give me your shoes.  You can pick them up in my office later."  I was still confused. Then he leaned over close to me and said, almost whispering, "Now, Kat, as you walk back to your dorm wearing the same clothes you wore last night, but without shoes, bra, or panties....and with my cum dripping out of your pussy and ass and running slowly down your thighs, I want you to think about what a slut you are. And as you walk by everyone heading to the dining hall for breakfast, I want you to think about how they know you're just coming in from a night of being fucked like a whore. Walk slowly, and think about that."

Then he kissed me - a deep, passionate kiss, the only kiss of the "date." After the kiss he said, "You really are a good fuck." I got out of the car and walked slowly back to my dorm, just as he told me to. My thighs and eventually my calves, too, were slick and wet with his cum. I saw a group of girls looking at me and whispering to each other. I saw several guys just starting at me as I completed my walk of shame. When I got back to my dorm, I went straight to the shower.

So, when he included weekly sex in his "offer" of help with my grade a couple of weeks later, I knew exactly what I was getting into. I knew he wasn't just going to use my body, but I'd be getting weekly mind fucking as well.

I needed a few minutes to think about it. If I just dropped calculus, I'd have to take it again, and I'd be right here in this same position. But if I took it, I had to pass.  Failure could not be an option. And I knew there was only way I was going to pass. I told him ok.

There were ten weeks left in the semester at that point.  I attended every class, did every assignment, took every test and quiz (and failed them all), and attended every small group tutoring session. And every Thursday night at 7:00 I drove up to his house and did whatever he wanted me to do until 7:00 a.m. Three times, there was another girl there when I showed up, and he played with both of us and had us play with each other. Once, I had a chance to chat with her when it wasn't Thursday night.  I ran into her at the library and we found a private place to talk and it turned out that she had a similar arrangement with him, but she wasn't handling it so well. To me, it was like a business arrangement.  To her, it was.....something very ugly and humiliating.

There were three weeks left in the semester. I went to his office one afternoon and told him to let her out of the deal - just give her the passing grade and let her go. He said, "I will, but only if you cover her sessions, plus three more." That would mean that when we started the new semester, after winter break, I would have to do six more sessions with him. "But you let her go now, right? She can stop going to class, everything, and she gets a passing grade."  He smiled and nodded his head.  I felt relieved. "Okay then," I said. "I'll see you in class," and I left his office and went to tell her.  She cried.  We stayed good friends for years, and we did more than a few threesomes together.

The semester ended and grades came out. I got a C. Damn him, I thought.  Couldn't he have given me a B? That was the first and only C of my life. I had been a straight A student - until then. I couldn't really fault him, though.  A "C" was a passing grade and that's what he had agreed. It occurred to me that I could have negotiated that grade to be an "A" back when we were first striking the deal, but I clearly wasn't smart enough.

I called my friend.  She got her C, too. She was just glad it was over.  To be honest, so was I, except that it wasn't completely over for me, but the hard part was.

I went home for Christmas break and when I came back to campus there was a note in my mailbox. It was unsigned.  All it said was, "You owe me six sessions.  I'll see you Thursday at 7:00."


If you missed the December Sex Blog post on Holiday Sex, find it here.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Holiday Sex - December Sex Blog Chain

What better topic for our December Sex Blog Chain than Holiday Sex?

Let's start with Max's contribution from  Thoughts of a Mystic Satyr. Have you ever had the experience of drinking a little too much at the office Christmas party and then leaving with a colleague?  Max has, and he writes about in his post Office Party. This is a three part post, so after you read the first one, be sure to continue with the next two. By the end of part 2, I was tasting my fingers, too.

Same Sassy Girl links us to her Holiday Sex with Philip as her entry this month. It's very hot and very sweet.  Did I mention it's really hot?

Now how's this for efficient?  Advizor, author of Free Advice is Worth What You Pay for It, combined his Holiday Sex post with his TMI Tuesday post. I smiled at his list of things that have put him on Santa's naughty list this year. He's definitely my kind of guy.

Ryan Beaumont definitely rose to the occasion this month by writing about food, football, and fucking in the Big Easy like no one else ever could in his post Don't Let Her Catch You With A Care.

If you missed my post on Thanksgiving Vacation Sex, you may want to take a look.  Who said the holiday in Holiday Sex had to be Christmas?


If you want to catch up on the Sex Blog Chain posts of the past, all of the links are here. Please share this month's post with others.

If you're a blogger and you'd like to join us next month, the Sex Blog Chain page has all the detials you need.  We'd love to have you!

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Laundry Day

Well, lookie here.... I guess Cara ran out of clean clothes. Apparently I'm not the only one who wears fuck-me-pumps while doing the laundry. Raise your hand (or comment below) if you want to help her wash that apron.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Santa Baby

You shouldn't be surprised that this is one of my favorite Christmas songs, and no matter how many people record it, the original recorded by Eartha Kitt in 1953 is still the best version ever made.

It's sexy, sultry, playful  - just like me. Maybe that's why I love it.

My favorite lines? "Think of all the fun I've missed; Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed; Next year I can be just as good....."  This is what I think of whenever someone suggests that I stop prowling. Stop?! But just think of all the fellas I haven't tried yet. Eartha said "kissed," but I know what she really meant.

So Gentlemen, listen to this amazing song, and imagine that your sweet Kat is singing it to you - and you alone.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Is It Boring If It's Not "Kinky?"

I got an email from a reader recently telling me that my posts about sex with Hubby are boring. My first thought was, "You think the posts are boring? You should try having sex with the same man in the same way for 25 years!"

Clearly, that reader doesn't recognize the incredible writing skill involved in making boring marital sex sound hot.  Apparently, it's not hot for him.  Oh well.

But it got me thinking about something that has been on my mind lately. Sex with Hubby is pretty "normal" in my opinion, not very kinky. Is sex boring if it's not kinky sex?

Of course, that really depends on your definition of kinky.  For some people, anything that's not missionary position and virtually silent is kinky. For them, my sex with Hubby looks wild and crazy. For other people, though, anything that doesn't involve ropes, nipple clamps, and strap-ons is just dull, and it doesn't even start to get kinky until blood is drawn or someone is screaming in pain. For them, my sex with Hubby would bore them to tears.

And just because sex is kinky doesn't mean that it can't be boring, too. I've read some really boring kink blogs and some really boring BDSM erotica. I've looked a man in the eye and said, "Really?  You're going to tie me up that way again?" I didn't say that was a good idea, mind you, and the punishment it brought me taught me never to say it again, but I did say it once - and the punishment didn't make being tied up in the same way for the twentieth time any less boring.

But repetition doesn't always mean it's boring, either. For example, I don't know how many times JJ has fucked me in the ass since I met him, but it's a lot. Did it get boring?  Never!  And at least once every single time we've been together, he's fucked me doggy style from behind. That's pretty conventional, wouldn't you say?  Boring?  No way.

So, sexual boredom isn't just about novelty or frequency or how conventional (un-kinky) the sex is. I think it's about the expectations of the partners and the degree to which the change and grow together or apart. If two people really love silent missionary position sex, I mean really love it - and each other - it may never get boring for them. Someone who loves doing it doggy style may never get bored with that, even though being tied up does nothing for her.

If you're bored with the sex in your relationship, regardless of how kinky it is or isn't, it's your responsibility to change it.   Do something to make it more exciting for you or, if you must, go looking for something more exciting. But don't blame your partner. That's just not fair.  He or she is only half of the equation.

And to the reader who thinks my posts about sex with Hubby are boring, I say confidently, "Well, don't read them if they bore you.  Life is short. Go find some exciting kink to read if you that's what blows your skirt up. It is unlikely that Hubby and I are going to get any more exciting anytime soon."

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Peppermint Surprise

Hubby knows I enjoy giving head so he doesn't need to provide any incentive, but last night he gave me a little surprise.

He started off by playing with me first. No Spartacus this time - just me and Hubby. Well, it was just me, Hubby and the two men in my fantasy, but they don't really count, do they? Anyway, this time, I joined him and both of our hands (one of his, one of mine) worked my pussy together while he sucked on my breasts. Very, very nice.

I came quickly and drifted for a moment into that fog of pleasure while I rode out the reverberations of the orgasm. Hubby moved away and I didn't really know what he was doing.  I assumed he was taking off his 12 layers of winter clothing so we could fuck, but I didn't really care. I was too busy enjoying the moment.

He climbed back into bed just as my orgasmic haze was lifting, and he knelt on the bed like he does when he wants a blow job, which is just about every night. I scooched over, lifted myself up and positioned myself to take his cock, which was very hard and throbbing, into my mouth.

No words were passed. One of the worst things about a long term marriage is also one of the best - predictability. There are times when it manifests as almost unbearable boredom, but there are other times when it grants a quiet and comfortable communication. One knows what the other wants without words. Sometimes there are visible signals, like putting his cock in my face or tapping my shoulder. Other times it's just a knowing of what the other person wants.

That reminds me of a joke I heard a long time ago. Hubby and I were watching comedian Elayne Boosler on T.V. when I first heard it.  A man wanted to improve his sex life with his wife so he asked her what she wanted in bed. "Do you really want to know what I want?" she asked. "Yes, I do," he replied. "I really do.  Please tell me.  What do you want?" She paused for a moment, wondering if she should tell him the truth. Finally  she said, "What I really want, more than anything, is to have just one night with someone besides you." It's funnier when it's told out loud, but you get the point. Sometimes the boredom can drive you crazy.

But I digress....again......

Hubby had turned the light on while he was up. He likes to watch as I suck his cock, which is fine with me, of course.  But I noticed just before I took him into my mouth that his cock was all wet and shiny. I thought that was odd.  Why would he lube up before a blow job? I figured that he must have originally wanted some anal and then changed his mind. I thought about asking him, but it really didn't matter, so I focused on the task at hand (cock at mouth?) and took his entire cock into my mouth in one long, deep stroke.

As the head hit the back of my throat, I squealed with delight. Hubby laughed and moaned with pleasure at the same time.

Peppermint lube!

I love peppermint. Hubby knows it. Every now and then, just for fun, he gives me the special peppermint surprise.  Sometimes he tells me about it earlier in the day to tease me or to give me  a heads up that he's going to want sex that night - which is not really needed because I want it every night. Sometimes he just surprises me like he did last night.

So there I was with a big, hard peppermint stick in my mouth. On peppermint nights it's understood that I'm not going to focus on technique at all, I'm just going to suck the hell out of his cock in an attempt to enjoy every last drop and vapor of the peppermint. His enjoyment comes from the feel of it, of course, but also from watching my frenzied attempt to devour him.

Last night was a little more wild than normal. I've been dieting for a while, and I've all but cut sweets completely out of my diet, so peppermint cock was even more of a treat than usual. I sucked and licked him like I was starving for cock and didn't know when I'd get it again.

I could tell he was a bit overwhelmed by my...uh...enthusiasm this time because he put out his arm to steady himself against the wall and every now and then he'd say, "Easy...easy...." I thought, Silly man.  If you wanted it easy you shouldn't have pulled out the peppermint surprise!

I was still going strong when I felt the tap on my shoulder. Nooooo!!!!!! He wanted me to stop now so he could fuck me, but I wasn't finished. I looked up at him and said, "Please? Just a couple more minutes?" He laughed and said, "I'm not going to make it a couple more minutes!"

I pretended to pout and rolled over onto my back, murmuring in my little girl whiny voice just loud enough so he could hear, "You shouldn't give me peppermint if you're just gonna take it away..."

He answered by driving his cock inside me. I looked up at him and saw him staring into my eyes. I wrapped my legs around him and held on tight while he fucked me hard and fast.  He was right. He didn't have two more minutes left in him.

After, he kissed me and rolled off me, laying next to me again. We were both quiet for a while.  The silence felt nice.  Comfortable.

Then he said, "Do you wanna finish off the peppermint?  I think there's still some on my balls."

I didn't answer.  I just scurried between his legs and started licking his balls (very gently, of course) and cock, tasting peppermint blended with his juices and mine. I licked him completely clean and then crawled back up to the head of the bed to curl up against him.

I kissed him on the neck and said, "Thanks for the peppermint surprise.  I loved it!"

"I could tell," he said. Then he kissed me on the forehead and we drifted off to sleep.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Thanksgiving Vacation Sex

We went to visit some family for the Thanksgiving holiday for a few days, and you know that what that means. Vacation sex!

We came prepared. I packed Spartacus.  Hubby packed some lube.We planned it for the first night we were here, but after getting everyone packed in the morning, loading the van, driving for 6 hours, and carrying all the luggage up a flight of stairs and unpacking, we were pretty tired. We agreed on a rain check.

So, last night, I jumped into the shower before bedtime (my normal routine) assuming that I'd be getting lucky. I washed myself very well and thoroughly. I shaved my legs. I shaved and trimmed in some other places, too. I threw on my nightgown and headed to the bedroom.

Hubby was already in bed looking at his smart phone. I stood next to the bed on my side and pulled off my nightgown, dropping it with some flourish on the floor.  He didn't move.  He didn't even look over.

Ok, I thought, that's ok. I'll try a more direct approach. I don't really know a more direct approach for letting a man know you want some sex than standing in front of him naked, but I knew I could try some things.

I climbed into bed and scooched over to his side....until I was stopped by something.

The room we're sleeping in has the bedroom set that my aunt and mom slept in when they were girls.The bed looks like a king size bed, but it's not.  It's really two twin beds with the box springs connected in the center Each bed is made separately and the top sheets and blankets are tucked it, so getting to Hubby's side of he bed required pulling out the sheet and blanket on my bed and then doing the same thing to his. Then I could attempt to snuggle up to him without falling between the two mattresses.

Suddenly, it felt like an obstacle course. Isn't sex supposed to be easier?

Before I got to work, I glanced over and hubby was searching for something on e-Bay. He still hadn't even glanced my way.

I started untucking the sheets and blankets. It wasn't easy.  Whoever made this bed last used a military-like precision with the intent that it not untuck very easily.  Oh yeah, that was me. I had made the bed that morning. I made a mental note not to do it so well for the rest of the visit.

I finally got it done.  Hubby still hadn't noticed. I slid next to him and kissed his neck.

"Hello there, " I said, in my sexist voice.

"Hi," he replied. "Just get done with your shower?"

I wanted to say, I've been done for 20 minutes, but I've spent the last ten just trying to get to you. But I didn't.  Instead I said, "Yup, and now I'm ready for you."

"Can you give me a minute? I'm trying to find that thing I told you about earlier," he said without taking his eyes off the screen.  In fact, his eyes hadn't left the screen the entire time I was in the room.

"Sure," I whispered in his ear.  I just lay there waiting for a couple of minutes, then I decided that he could still do what he was doing while I undressed him a bit and got started. I reached down and found the drawstring on his pajama pants and untied it.  I slipped my hand under the pajamas, expecting to find  the thing I was looking for, but I felt some long underwear instead. I slipped my hand under the long underwear, and I felt his boxers.

WTF? I thought.  How many layers of clothing is he wearing? I pulled the covers back a little bit and reached under the sweatshirt he was wearing and I could tell that he was wearing a t-shirt and  a long-sleeve shirt under that sweatshirt.

That's when it hit me.  He had no intention of having sex tonight. In fact, it looked like he was doing everything he could to discourage me.

That's when I knew I had a decision to make.  I could just roll over and go to sleep.  I could "take care of myself," either in bed or the bathroom, or I could press onward with the hope that I could get him in the mood for sex. The last option is dangerous. It's where the potential for rejection lies and I really didn't want another rejection experience, but I also knew that picking the last option was the only chance I'd have for getting any sex.

Yes, I was very horny, but that rejection thing is a bitch. I hear men talk about it frequently, how they hate being rejected over and over by their wives until they quit trying. As a spouse of a man who has cheated - a lot - his rejection feels very much like it's about me, even when it's not. He can say that it's because he's tired or not in the mood (for godsake, I thought all men were almost always in the mood??), but it resonates in my heart as "He doesn't want me.  If one of those other women were here, he'd probably be in the mood."

That's what started running through my head as I was trying to make my decision about what to do next. I have promised myself that I'm never going to just give up, but pushing forward is an emotional risk that could change the whole tone of the vacation for me.

I made my decision. I slid my hand under the three layers of clothing (yeah, it's cold here, but not that cold) and grabbed his cock and whispered in his ear, "Your minute is up."

He finally turned and looked at me.  I smiled. Then he apparently noticed that I was naked.

"Ohhh, I forgot.," he said. "Why didn't you say anything?"

My first thought at that moment was not a very charitable one, but I knew it wouldn't get me laid. So I just said, "I don't know," but I followed it up with, "I'm going to cum in a few minutes. Will it just be me and Spartacus, or will you be joining us?"

He chuckled and put his phone away. Then he began the slow and methodical task of taking off each piece of clothing (six separate articles), folding each one and putting it on the dresser next to the bed. I looked over at my nightgown strewn on the floor and wondered for a moment how we made it 25 years when we are so different in so many ways.

He climbed back into bed and slipped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him. Then he kissed me sweetly, gently. This is more like it, I thought.

I was enjoying the feel of his warm skin along the length of my body when I felt his hand slide between my legs. The second he touched my clit, my body jerked a bit.  He smiled.

"Ready for action, are you?," he joked.

"Shut up," I replied, and I tilted my hips forward, pressing my pussy against his hand. By that time, I was very, very wet and, yes, ready. He started fingering me, but I wanted something more intense, so I reach up to the cupboard in the headboard and pulled out Spartacus. I turned on the vibrator and started using it on myself, still kissing him.

He moved his hand to give Spartacus more access, moving that hand to my  breast. He started pinching my nipple, alternately rolling it between his thumb and forefinger and twisting it just the way I like. Then he pulled away from our kiss and started sucking on my other nipple. I turned the vibrator up to the high setting.

In about a minute I was coming hard, shaking, trying not to make noise. As my orgasm subsided, I turned Spartacus off, tossed it aside, closed my eyes and just enjoyed the sensation of the pleasure pulsing through me.

I know this sounds terrible, but I really could have just rolled over and gone to sleep right then. Of course, I would never do that, and I couldn't have done it anyway because I opened my eyes to find that Hubby had re-positioned himself so his hard cock was right by my mouth.  Hmmm.  Subtle, isn't he?

I rolled onto my side and took his cock deeply into my mouth. He gasped. I love that. I love being able to take a man's breath away with my mouth.

I suckled him slowly, purposefully. Long, slow, deep strokes. I took my time. After about 30 seconds, I took his balls into my hand and squeezed them gently, sometimes holding them firmly, other times squeezing and releasing in time with the rhythm of my mouth on his cock.

I decided to practice a new technique I'd be working on. I figured out a way to take him into my throat and swallow repeatedly, essentially fucking him with my throat and soft palliate - while still being able to breathe. The "being able to breathe" part is the important thing. I've been able to do the deep throat thing for years, oops....decades, but I'd always have to come up for air at some point. I finally figured out how to do it and breathe at the same time, but it's not easy, so I've been practicing....and getting better at it each time.

I took a deep breath, pressed down and swallowed..... again, again...

"Oh, yeah....." he moaned. I could feel his cock throbbing, getting even harder.

Just as I was getting into it and I was pretty sure he was about to come, I felt him tap my shoulder - the signal to stop because he wanted to fuck me.

I stopped and looked up at him and said, "Really?" He smiled and told me to get on all fours. Of course, I complied quickly. That's when I realized how squeaky and creaky the old bed was. Every little movement made noise, and now I knew that we were really going to start making some noise.

I had barely made it up to my hands and knees when he entered me. It was sudden, forceful, urgent. This time I gasped. I started to move with him, but he told me to be still. I'm not sure if he wanted to be in control or if he was just trying to keep the noise of the squeaky bed to a minimum. It didn't really matter. I started to come again in no time.

I moaned and he reached forward and pushed my face down into the pillow. Ok, quiet it is, I thought.  I bit my lip and tried to focus on staying still and quiet as my body shook  with pleasure. Hubby finished with a flurry of  thrusts that made the squeaky bed bang against the wall.

He held himself inside me for what felt like a long time before pulling out and collapsing next to me. He reached over and took my hand, squeezing it gently.   I turned and  looked at the clock.  It was after midnight.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Hubby," I said.

He looked and me, smiled, and replied, "Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, Kat.  I love you."

I love him, too.  Very much.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

10 Tips for Three-Way Sex

It's just about every man's fantasy - having sex with two women at the same time. Extra points if they're twins, right? You've finally talked your wife/lover/girlfriend into it. What could possibly go wrong?

A lot.

It's not as simple as it sounds. There are technical issues to be considered. Women can easily accommodate two cocks at the same time, but men only have one dick...and it can only go in one soft, tight warm place at a time. And there are emotional issues. Seriously, it can be an emotional minefield.

I'm not going to tackle the technical issues here. The porn industry has done that for us. I'll focus on the emotional and relationship issues since those are the ones that cause all the problems.

Since I've had the pleasure of enjoying more than a few three-ways over my lifetime, I thought I'd share some tips to help you get it right. There are variations to the 3-way theme, of course - two women and one man, two men and one woman, three women, etc.  Most of my suggestions will apply to most situations, so I'm going to focus on fmf, two women and one man, the subject of thousands of porn movies and millions of wet dreams.

  1. Talk about it beforehand. Discuss with your lover how you would like it to go.  Discuss any limits you have for playing with a third.  Are you ok with him kissing her? Will you be ok if she doesn't want you to have vaginal intercourse with your new friend? What makes you nervous about the idea?  Do you both feel comfortable with it?
  2. Expect the unexpected. No matter how well you may have planned it, something will not go as you expected. Maybe one of you wants to stop and leave in the middle of it or maybe you (speaking to the men, here) can't "perform." Ladies, what if your lover gets so into the other gal that he completely ignores you? Seriously, these things happen. Have a plan for them.  Know what you'll do so you don't end up in a panic.
  3. Remember that emotions are unpredictable. Your partner may be telling you that she's fine with it, that she is really excited about it, that's she's looking forward to it, and all of that is probably true, but it doesn't mean that she won't become an emotional mess as soon as things get started. I am assuming here that you and your partner have a romantic or love relationship.  If you're just fuck buddies, go for it! By the way, guys, sometime you think it's a fuck buddy relationship and she thinks it's more. Just a heads up. But as I was saying, the reality of seeing someone you love having sex (or deeply kissing, or...or...or...) someone else can be very hard to take, even if you agreed to it. The first time I tried a 3-way with Hubby was a disaster. I had already been part of several before then, so neither of us expected that there would be a problem. However, the second I saw him kiss her, I burst into tears. I experienced an eruption of emotion that overtook me completely out of the blue. To his credit, Hubby called a halt to everything and he and I left, which is exactly the right response to the situation. If he had kept going, hoping I would get comfortable with it eventually, I would have had to leave. And it wouldn't have been pretty when he got home later. 
  4. Be prepared for even the most confident woman/man to experience some insecurity.  I've known some absolutely gorgeous and sexually free women who avoid 3-ways because of their own body issues.  And if porn-film-body women have body image issues, you can be certain than the rest of us do, too. And this isn't just a female issue. Men worry about the other guy having a bigger cock or perfect six pack abs or...or...or.... Until you all get to know each other and are comfortable with each other, body image issues will be "the elephant in the room."  Handle this upfront by reassuring your partner (Oh, Baby, I *love* your tits, etc.) during the act.
  5. Focus more on your partner than the third player.  Men, this means you should focus three times more on your partner than the other woman.  Otherwise, she will perceive it as you giving all the attention to the other woman. Women, you need to give your partner at least twice the attention you give to the other man. Three-ways that go bad usually go bad because of this issue - the woman feels that she's being ignored. Not only will it piss her off, but it will light a match to every insecurity she's ever had and an emotional eruption is likely, either right then and there or later.
  6. Guys, show some discipline. I know you're excited.  I know this is a dream come true.  Yes, maybe your new playmate has a much better body than your partner and all you want to do is play with that sweet fresh pussy all night, but show a little bit of discipline and focus on your partner. It will pay off. Besides, it's just polite.
  7. Focus on comfort in the beginning, then pleasure.  Gentlemen, here's a hint to help you navigate the emotional rapids I've just described. Spend the first half of your time together focusing on your partner. That doesn't mean ignore the other person, of course, but devote most of your attention to your partner.  Make sure she has a really, really good time. Make sure she has no doubt in her mind at that moment that you care about her very much. Once she feels secure, she will probably direct you to play with the other woman or she will encourage your activity in that direction. 
  8. Take your time. Unless it's a mutual masturbation session, it's going to take longer for three people to be satisfied than for two. Don't rush it. It's supposed to be fun and pleasurable. Enjoy the foreplay. Enjoy watching your partner and the other person play with each other. This doesn't happen every day, ya know! Savor the moment.
  9. Debrief afterward. After it's all over, the third party has left, and you and your partner both have your clothes on, talk about how it went.  What worked for each of you and what didn't?  Check in with her about how she is feeling. Don't just assume it was great for her.  Be honest about what you would like to do differently next time (if there is a next time). Most importantly.......
  10. Be Grateful. The reality is that most women will not be interested in having a 3-way with you, Gentlemen.  It's not because they are not interested or curious, but because of the body image and emotional security issues I mentioned above. If you are in a romantic relationship with a woman who is willing to try it with you - even once - you are very fortunate. Women like that are rare. Be sure you say "thank you" and that you demonstrate your gratitude to her in whatever way is appropriate given the parameters of your relationship. 
After the disastrous first try at 3-way that Hubby and I had, we talked about it and tried again.  That time we set some rules (no kissing her, etc.) and it went better.  I was still an emotional wreck afterwards, but at least I made it through. Eventually, I became secure enough  that he wasn't going to leave me for one of those other women that I was ok with it. None of it was logical or rational, but that didn't matter.  Emotions are what they are. At another time we played with one of his friends (a man) and he (Hubby) made the rule that the other guy wouldn't be allowed to fuck me. Yeah, men have their issues, too.

The reality of a 3-way rarely lives up to the fantasy, but that doesn't mean it can't be great. It just means that you should moderate your expectations, go with the flow, and be prepared for the unexpected.

Monday, November 19, 2012

Let's Cut Mrs. Patraeus Some Slack

I know you've been waiting for my thoughts on the Patraeus scandal.  I've been meaning to write about it, but the story keeps changing and more dirt keeps surfacing. It's a sex blogger's dream.

So, yes, I'll be sharing thoughts about it in several posts to come, but I wanted to comment now on how the blogosphere is treating Mrs. Patraeus.

I've read everything from rating her a "1" compared to the Broadwell being rated a "10" to many commentaries arguing that her husband wouldn't have cheated if she were better looking or more in shape or hotter or gave better head or....or.....or....


The romance started when Patraeus was in Afghanistan.  He was away from his wife for a long time.  She could have been Jennifer Lopez and it wouldn't have mattered.  She wasn't there, through no fault of her own.

Then he was back in the country, but the relationship with Broadwell was already established by then. Mrs. Patraeus didn't have at chance at that point.

Other things to remember:

Mrs. Patraeus was in her late 50's when the affair started and Broadwell was in her late 30's. The Patraeus' had been married for over 30 years. Mrs. Patraeus could have been Ann Margaret and it wouldn't have mattered. There's no way she could compete with fresh, young pussy.  Period.

A little sidebar here.  Most of you know that my Hubby did a fair share of cheating over a recent five year period.  My Hubby adores me. We get along very well. We're good friends. Yeah, I could be in better shape, but sex is not bad between us.  Sometimes it's downright amazing. He loves it. I'm the one who gets bored.  I give the world's best blow job. I don't deny him anything he wants to try in bed. Nothing. But he's a man, and he has a penchant for 18-25 year old women. I'm 48. There is absolutely nothing I can do to compete with new, young pussy - at least in the sexual arena. I can't be what I am not. I can be a lot of wonderful and sexually satisfying things, but I'm not 20 anymore. Is that my fault? Of course not. Is it his fault that he's attracted to that?  No. That's how men are made. Does it mean he doesn't love me? No.

Ok, back to the story.....


Then there's the ego stroking. Holly has known her husband for almost 4 decades. She knows just about everything there is to know about his habits, character, strengths and weaknesses. Paula, on the other hand, was just discovering him and telling him how wonderful he was. That would be almost irresistible to most men in his situation, but then add to that the flattery of being attractive to and desired by such an attractive younger woman.

Add all of this to the fact that men are biologically predisposed to cheat and there's no way you can blame this on his wife. You know that I don't believe there is ever a truly innocent party in an affair.  A marriage rarely splinters unless there is something missing that both parties in the marriage have some power to change, but even given that, we should remember that the odds of a man being 100% sexually faithfully over the life of a long term marriage are very slim.

You can argue about whether it's right or wrong, but you can't eliminate the reality that a majority of married men cheat at some point in their marriage.

David Patraeus did what men do. He fell for the charms of an attractive younger woman who made him feel like a god - both in bed and out of bed.  He made that choice. I'm sure he enjoyed it for most of the affair. If he hadn't enjoyed it, he wouldn't have kept doing it.

Back to his wife....My heart aches for her. She has, by all accounts, been a good and faithful wife for over 35 years. It's true that men have a tendency to cheat, but it's rare that it becomes international news and, literally "everyone knows about it."  She has to put her marriage (and her self-esteem) back together in the midst of an unbelievable level of media attention and jerks who think they are being funny by poking fun at her appearance and implying (or saying directly) that she is responsible for the affair because she somehow wasn't good enough to keep her husband faithful. It's just wrong.

David Patraeus was and is 100% responsible for where he puts his dick.

Let's cut Mrs. Patraeus some slack.