Ode to a Cheap Hotel Room

Cheap hotel room.
How many secrets and stories could you tell?

How many lovers have fucked here?
How many newly separated spouses have cried here?
How many traveling business men have collapsed exhausted here?
How many children in traveling families have laughed here?
How many homeless have taken refuge here for a night, a week, or longer?

Your features are unmistakable -
The smell of disinfectant greets your guests as they open the door.
Your multicolored bed spread, designed to hide stains, is not fooling anyone.
Your heating/air unit ensures that your guests are either too hot or too cold.
Your walls are so thin that only the illusion of privacy remains.

What happens here is is only whispered.
Secret lovers steal a few hours here, hidden in rooms surrounded by guests who are lonely, wounded, or recovering from life's blows.
They'll leave as quietly as they arrived, leaving a tousled bed as the only evidence that they were here.

Cheap hotel room.
How many secrets and stories could you tell?

Is Compromise Possible?

I know that people make many compromises in a marriage. It's how you get along with someone else and how you can manage to live together happily for decades.  Of course, there are some things on which people can't or won't compromise.  We all have those issues. Sometimes they change as we grow and age and sometimes they don't.

I find myself in a situation with Hubby where compromise may not be possible.

First, let me say that we have agreed that we are staying together no matter what. Divorce is not an option. We love each other, and our children, and we are committed to making the marriage work.  We get along very well.  We enjoy each other's company. Our relationship is very good, except for this pesky sex issue.

He wants us to re-commit to only having sex with each other.  Even though we both have done our share of straying outside the marriage for sex recently, he wants that to stop now.

I want to continue to have the freedom to have sex outside the marriage.  I'm totally fine with him having sex with other women if that's what he would like to do. If not, I'm okay with that, too. But I want it all to be out in the open.  No more lying.

This is kind of where things are at right now, but not because we have agreed.  It's kind of the default situation until we reach agreement. I'll admit though, that I have cut way back on my prowling out of respect for him until we reach agreement, and when he asks about it, I tell the truth.

I guess it sort of feels like a compromise to me because I'm doing much less prowling than I'd like.  Of course, Hubby doesn't see it that way. To him, screwing JJ once a month or once a week is all the same.

We're in the negotiation stage now.  We have been here for a while, but our positions haven't been as clearly defined as they are now.

Is compromise possible in this situation?

Cara Taking It One Step Further

It's Thursday, and you know what that means, right?

It means that you get to see more sweet and sexy photos of our beloved Cara!

These are part of a series.  Last week, you saw her starting to strip in Cara Sweet Cara.

She went a little further for us ....

You know how to show your appreciation.....

Kat's Tattoo Advice

I'm not a big fan of tattoos on women.  I don't have one and I don't plan on getting one, either.  I know some women like them, and that's their business entirely.

However, SomewhereMan told me a story this morning about a quick fuck date he had recently with a former lover.  Apparently, she had added a tramp stamp tattoo since he last saw her.

For those of you who are not familiar with the term, a "tramp stamp" is a tattoo on a woman's lower back. They are so popular, especially among younger women, that there is even a Tramp Stamp Barbie. Please don't get me started on my opinion of Tramp Stamp Barbie. I'll just go on and on and on....

Anyway, the tramp stamp that SomewhereMan's playmate had was a cross.  Yes, a religious symbol. On the lower back. So SomewhereMan had her on her hands and knees and was fucking her nice and hard, all the while looking at the cross. Enter guilt.

That made me think that some tattoo advice might be in order. First, putting religious symbols on your tramp stamp just sends some conflicting messages.

I also think you should stay away from scripture on your tramp stamp.  This young woman made a particularly bad choice as her I Corinthians 13 selection is commonly used at weddings.  I can just imagine a married man bending her over and being confronted by scripture read at his wedding.

Besides, who wants to do all that reading?

And this gal has one of the ten commandments on her back. That's ok, but anyone who knows the commandments knows that "Thou shalt not commit adultery" is not far behind this one.

Do you really want your married lover thinking about that while he's fucking your ass?  Really?

I didn't think so.





Now this young woman has made the mistake of including a religious symbol and a misspelling in her tramp stamp. Tattoos are forever, honey. Get someone to proofread the draft. This would be so distracting to me that I'd have to take off the strap-on and get a red marker to correct it.


I think I've made my point, haven't I?

While I was searching for tramp stamp photos to help illustrate my point, I came across a couple of others that I absolutely had to share.

This first one made me smile.  This young lady knows that men need very explicit directions and I applaud her idea.

I also like this one because it is hidden most of the time.

But my #1 favorite (among those I saw today in my search) is the one below.  This young woman wants to make sure the guy she's with remembers her name, regardless of whether he's taking her from behind or has his cock in her mouth.

I laughed out loud when I saw it.


It's ingenious when you think about it.

All of this has been about my main piece of advice for women with tramp stamp tattoos (The advice?  Stay away from religious symbols and scripture), but I have some definite thoughts about men with tattoos, too. I'll share that in a post soon.

Hmm....but thinking about it brings to mind a certain former Marine playmate I've had who wears his tattoos very, very well.....

You'll have to wait for another post to learn more about him. All I can say now is that it will be worth the wait. ;-)

Treating Me Like Crap Means "No Sex for You"

Hubby has this habit of expecting sex after he has been cranky with me. Huh? Conversations with friends of mine have revealed that Hubby isn't the only man who does this.

What's up with that?

It should be very simple to understand. If you want sex (especially within the next few hours), be nice to me. If you treat me like crap, don't expect me to be excited about having sex with you.

That also goes for heavy conversations that may be uncomfortable. If you start a heavy conversation that may lead to disagreement and tension, you'd be an idiot to do that within an hour of bedtime (or whenever the time is that you expect sex).

I  have a few friends who typically have sex with their spouses in the morning.  Now I can totally understand why they do that.  There is very little time for him to say or do something stupid or start an argument.

The night before last, Hubby wanted to have a heart to heart conversation about something (it was actually about JJ.....) and we both said some things we shouldn't have said. When we turned out the light, we were both upset.

Then, within about 5 minutes, even though the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, he started scooching over to my side of the bed and sliding his hand up my inner thigh.

My first thought: You have got to be fucking kidding me!!!! Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has a better chance of having sex with me right now than you do!


My second thought: I know this is your way of trying to make up, but it's not working.  The feel of your hand on me right now is making me physically sick.


What came out of my mouth: Hubby, you know that when you say things to me like you just said, I don't feel like making love (Said very, very slowly with that annoying female I'm-saying-this-slowly-so-you'll-know-I'm-pissed tone).

Hubby (in an attempt to smooth things over just enough - but no more - to have sex): I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to upset you.  You know I love you (kissing my neck now, finger sliding inside me).

Kat (taking Hubby's hand and moving it back to his side of the bed): I love you, too, but I don't want to have sex with you now.


That alarmed him because he knows I always want to have sex. Now I had his attention.  So we had the be-nice-to-me-if-you-want-sex conversation...again.  I don't know how many times we've had that same conversation over the last 25 years, but it feels like at least a few hundred.

His tone became nicer. He apologized for the not-so-nice things he said earlier.  I did, too.

We turned the light off again. He didn't even attempt to scooch over my way, so I slid under the blankets, found him and gave him a world class blow job.

Why? Because appropriate behavior must be rewarded as soon as possible!  I want him to associate being nice to me in bed and apologizing for being a jerk with a pleasurable experience.

Hubby (after I swallowed a nice load of his cum): I thought you didn't want sex tonight?

Kat:  I don't.  Goodnight.

There's nothing wrong with leaving him a little confused, is there? ;-)

Soccer Mom - Pretty in Pink

Well, she's really wearing just about nothing, but she's still very pretty in (and out) of those pink panties. This is one of my favorite pics of Soccer Mom so far. Yowza!

The First Time

I looked over at my husband while he was sleeping last night. Just a tiny sliver of light from the hallway was all I needed to see him clearly in the darkness. The years have changed him. That gorgeous, wavy black hair he had when we met is now all grey. He's an inch and a half shorter, too, almost as if the weight of decades of work and worry took its toll physically. Wrinkles have replaced the firm skin of youth, and his shoulders are hunched just a little bit, stealing some of that appearance of pride and confidence with which he carried himself for most of his life.

But in spite of all those changes, I can still see him. I can still see the man who asked me out on our first date and worried that I wouldn't be interested because I was so much younger. I can still see the man who stood holding my hand as we married, promising to stay with me until he had breathed his last breath. I can still see him holding our oldest son just seconds after he was born, standing there with a look of wonder on his face and tears in his eyes. I can still see the man who laid in a hospital bed helplessly as he battled a bout of pneumonia that almost took his life. I can still see the man who held my hair back when I was kneeling in front of the toilet sicker than I had ever been before. I can still see the man who held me when I buried my mother; the same man who cared for my uncle gently and lovingly as he finally surrendered to cancer.

When he rolled over, he snuggled against me and put his arm around me, and I felt the man who made love to me for the first time. I had had sex many times before I met him, but the first time with him was the first time I had ever truly made love to a man. I knew then that we'd marry and I'd stay with him for the rest of my life. I knew then that he was "the one." It took him a couple more months to figure it out.

Since then, we've had our share of both the better and the worse, the good times and the bad. We've both gone through periods of growing pains when we weren't sure we wanted to stay, but we did. We both suffered losses from which we thought we'd never recover, but we did. We have both been wounded by the other in ways that we worried we wouldn't be able to forgive, but we did.

Just as I looked at him last night and saw the man I knew and loved, there have been times over the past quarter of a century when I looked at him and thought I was looking at a stranger. We had drifted so far apart that the only thing keeping us together was that promise to stay that we made years before. It was enough.

So, what is a perfect marriage? Is it one in which the two parties are never sexually unfaithful? If so, that wouldn't be us because we both have strayed in that way- more than a few times. Is it one in which the two people have the same perspective on life? If so, that wouldn't be us either because at various times in our marriage we have stood at opposite ends of opinion and perspective. Is it one which the people never really had anything truly bad happen to them? If so, that wouldn't be us because we have walked through unspeakable loss - the loss of a child, of parents, of friends.

I think that no marriage is perfect and yet all marriages are perfect. No one can live up to the image of a happy marriage that has no hard times, suffers no loss, moves along throughout the years without a hitch. But we all can choose to stay married, to overlook our partner's shortcomings and find ways to be reasonably happy, sometimes even VERY happy.

When you can look at your husband late at night and still see the lover he was when he made love to you the first time and you can't imagine your life without him, you have a pretty perfect marriage - as perfect as it gets, anyway. The rest is unimportant.

She wasn't a Lipstick Lesbian

Daunt here. Well we have another guest post, this one from Clem, and it's quite a story.

_________

The beginning

"Well if I get the fuckin' fanstastic title then I am going to keep working at the naughty. Maybe throw in some selfish and wicked ... but in my "sweet" way. ;) "

Her reply to me after we had re-engaged this past summer.

She had hit on my AM profile right away, within a few days of me posting it. I said that I had been re-reading her profile, and waited, wanting to reply. She wrote right back. She was looking for an older man, interviewed some, but no one had appealed to her yet.

We were both looking for something we needed, and not getting it in our mate.

We exchanged a bunch of emails that first week. She was attached, married. I was separated. In her second email, she told me she was a lesbian, bi-sexual, married to her "Mrs" as she referred to her wife. She wanted sex with a man, an older, experienced man. Did I have a problem with that? She'd wait to see if I replied before she would want to talk more or meet.

No, not at all. No problem. To some men, it might be a real fantasy-turn-on. Fuck a lesbian? Here I am, a well experienced man, that a lesbian wants a hot, torrid affair with? Yeah, man. But you know, I really didn't look at it that way. Yes, I was intrigued; the why's, what does she want, what will she want to do? (She never did tell me what she and her Mrs. did together.)

I wanted passionate, erotic, sensuous, hot sex. She told me when her wife turned 40, the "Mrs" lost interest in sex, and that now, she was horny all the time. She was the dominant one in her relationship, but didn't want to continue that way, and her Mrs, some 5 years older than her at 43, wasn't interested in sex anymore. She was 37 when we met, I was 58.

She used to slip off her wedding ring after she came in and set her things down.

I had sent her a list of questions, what she'd like, what I like, what did she want. She answered them all very well, positively, no shirking. She didn’t want to use condoms; she was not fertile. It was OK if I wanted condoms, but she didn’t. Great. Hated them. Loved the bare-feeling of my cock in her pussy and ass too much anyway. In her second email, she told me too, she wanted to be 'anally penetrated', wanted to experience this. Well, that got my attention. I love to teach, and show women good, anal sex. Turns out it took a long time before it actually happened, but as she said, she had a 'tight ass'. She liked it played with, no question, licking her ass hole, fingering it, probing her ass. She mine also. Turned out she was well experienced in massaging a man's prostate. I had asked her about rimming, and she replied, 'Absolutely', so, she was into it. She was always, always, very clean, fresh, pussy and ass.

She wasn't a lipstick lesbian by any means, very plain, very short, black, stiff hair, 160, 5'-4, 34B. If I had to describe her further, I would say that she reminds me a lot of k.d. lang. OK, not a real beauty, but that's not all where the attraction was. We talked and laughed a lot in bed, and she had a delightful set of small dimples on the tops of her cheeks that would appear way too seldom.

She is a nurse, working for a major urban hospital here. She worked shift hours, and at times, this was very good, as she could break away at different times during the day to come see me. We had some memorable 'nooners' this way, usually lasting a few hours. In the beginning, she'd come by after her late shift a few times, but that really didn't work out.

She wanted a strictly 'FWB-NSA' situation, with not much other interaction. I was OK with this, and I certainly was not interested in anything involved, nor was I interested in falling for her. She remained very discreet with me regarding her personal life. Yes, she shared some details, but not a lot. I just wanted the passions and the eroticism that came from close, intimate, very personal contact. I wanted these old feelings back. I wanted to please a woman, and have her give me pleasure, like no one else has. She did this, we did it together, we did it all.

I loved her pussy! She had a big clit, and it grew and stuck out when she was aroused. She had short, black, tight pussy hair. Turns out, she absolutely loved to have her pussy and clit licked, tongue-fucked, and also to have her g-spot massaged at the same time. This was a lot of our sex for the next 2 years. When I wanted her to cum, and cum hard, I simply dropped my face down between her legs, spread her pussy lips, and licked in, all over.

She'd moan nicely, grab my head at times, and spread her legs more for me. She made a set of comments about that at one point, saying what I do to her, that she automatically wanted to lie back and spread her legs for me. She did talk sexy and kinky with me some, but not enough. She rarely came, maybe twice, while I was fucking her, once we came together.

Her big clit stuck out well when I sucked on it. I loved it, loved to finger and lick her.

She'd shudder, spasm and writhe in bed when I did this, building up her orgasms. She'd fist the sheets, hold on. When she'd cum, she'd explode and scream out, "Yes, that's it, that's it!, Ahhhh!". I got goose-bumps writing this in remembrance. Over the months, she got into a very comfortable position with me. I'd usually be between her legs, scrunched down, but more having my knees up and bent. She'd get so that she'd rest her ankles against my thighs, bend her legs and knees, and use that for leverage. She'd push back against me this way. I could always tell when she was settling in for a good cum when she did this. Yeah, it took some time, 15-20 minutes at a time, but, wow, could she cum. I'd lick her some, and she'd wiggle her ass and hips, and then I'd introduce one, then two fingers, in her pussy, hot, wet, dripping at times. One time on the couch, I had her up on her knees, and I was licking her pussy, fingering her, two, maybe three fingers in her from the rear, and her juices were literally running down my arm. Loved that always.

But lying between her legs was the best. Sometimes, I'd reach under her legs, push them back so she'd stick her ass and pussy out more. Times, she'd grab her legs, hold them spread, as I licked her clit and pussy. It was easy then to slip down to her perineum, then too, right into her asshole. I know she liked this, and yeah, there were a few times she gasped when I licked her, tongued her ass. Loved to lick around her rosebud, then push my tongue in, hard, deep as I could.

A few times she did open her ass, and I tongued in more, deeper. I loved doing this, and did it as much as I could with her. This would then usually work her up well, and my fingers were wet enough, that I could pretty easily insert my finger in her ass. When she really opened up, my middle finger would be all the way in her ass, with my palm on her butt. A few times I got two in up to the 3rd knuckle.

But fingers in her pussy were great, the best for her.

Licking her clit, then up to 3 fingers in her pussy, palm up, fingers pressed in hard on her g-spot. Very hard, curled around, pushing in, then too, back and forth. One time, right at the end, I was doing this so hard, she was so wet, she'd puddle in the middle of my hand.

She loved to suck me also, on my back, my head propped up so I could watch her. She always looked into my eyes, smiled and she'd devour me. She had some very good oral skills, working my cock-head and frenulum well, 'till I'd blast in her mouth. She'd moan and suck, and drive me crazy. She loved to give me 'cummy kisses' then too.

Oh and, she did like to get fucked also. She was very responsive with me. Some of the best, was simply working her up, hot and wet, fingering her, then easily rubbing the head of my cock in her pussy. Usually this elicited a small moan, a wide-open mouth, and she'd flare open, and I'd ease in. There was onetime when she just grabbed my ass, pulled me in her mostly dry. She said she liked to do that at times. Oh, but that feeling of warm, wet pussy on my cock, her gasping, tight, mmmmm, always a turn-on. There were times too, when I liked to roll on my back, grab her, bring her to me, roll her on top of me. I know I said a few times for her to grind on me, rub her pussy on my cock. She did this a few times too by herself, as she liked to tease almost as much as I did. She'd slide back and forth, wetting me, rubbing my cock, and then arch her hips some to slide down on me, as my cock fully entered her pussy. Doggie-style was the best, for us both. Loved her on her knees, fucking away. After some great pussy-licking, I'd love to then stand at the end of the bed, grab her legs, pull her to the corner. I'd position her ass right at the corner, then push her legs back, and fuck her hard and deep, using my legs to leverage in her. I loved to fuck her like this, very hot, very sexy, and she'd always then say, 'Fuck me, yes, fuck me hard, deep' I loved it when she'd call out like that. She was very vocal that way.

We only really talked and communicated thru email. Oh, and yes, in bed. Yes, we exchanged numbers, but she told me right away, she didn't like to talk on the phone. Oh, we'd text some, not a lot. Again, she didn't seem to like that. She had a 'pay-as-you-go' phone, TrackFone or something. OK, no big deal. As she was working odd shifts, she'd usually send me her schedule, out weeks. I'd suggest times when she could come by, but again, this was on her schedule. A bit odd and frustrating at times, when *I* wanted to fuck or lick her. At the least, I could leave her v-mails, again, usually late at night, so she'd get the message as she drove home after 11 from the late shift. Sometimes I'd try to be funny, sexy, erotic, tell her how much I had enjoyed her that day, or the previous day. She'd always comment on them, tell me she liked to hear them, told me she liked my voice. She never once returned the favor. Don't know why.

In the height of it all, we were emailing a lot, daily, multiple times during the day.

We only got together at my place, on her terms, when she wanted to, which was usually once a week, and usually for about 2-5 hours, sometimes a lot more. I loved to spend the time with her, more so than with anyone else.

Yes, she could make me cum 3-4 times also. She is very through.

Some of the best memories I have of us together were early on Saturday mornings, 9-10, in winter, when the sun would blaze in through the 3 windows I had. We’d get so warm, I needed to open the windows in the winter. The sun would cascade on us in bed, so warm, sexy then too, under the covers.

We only got together for sex, rarely anything else. A few times we'd meet at the local pub, share a glass of wine, or a few times, lunch.

I always provided a clean, quiet place for us, clean sheets, usually the night before, clean towels, always a clean bathroom.

Oh yes, we always showered together, always. I really understood about keeping it discreet, and she wanted to be as clean as possible to go home. Wash off any residuals, stray hairs. The shower was a place to play also. She brought her own brand of soap, loved to soap my cock, reach around me from behind, and jack me off, while fingering my ass. I loved the feeling. I'd play with her pussy and ass too, but I tried not to get soap everywhere. We did like washing each other, and the last time we were together, she wiggled her finger in my ass, with promises of more things to come that way, I had expected. That sorta surprised me, as that day was filled with a lot of sex. I had thought we were on the right track again, getting frisky, hot, erotic with each other. I used to tell her, and I'd smirk a bit doing so, that I was happy to send her home to her wife, with my cum in her belly and pussy and ass, even though she was squeaky-clean on the outside.

She had broken it off, right before the holidays, late in 2010. She wanted to regain her ‘integrity’ as she put it, by recommitting to her wife. I understand this, and can respect it. I know she was stressed at this time also. She was/is going through a big set of changes in her life, wanting more from her career, wanting to change paths, and wanting way more from her personal life, and not getting anything, except from me. I thought about that some. From what she said, I knew that I fulfilled her needs, a lot. She told me a number of times that I gave her the best orgasms of her life.

She did give me one big send-off, after she emailed me then wanting ‘one last time’ together. She came over about 10 that morning, and stayed late in the evening. We fucked and sucked for hours, showered, talked, fucked some more. She deleted her email account that night after that.

So, OK, nothing, no contact then for like 6 months.

Literally, the first of June last year, I'm out having a glass of wine, and I get a text-message from her. ‘Miss how you make me cum’ was all she said. We texted a bit that night, flirted. She said she was tired of being a ‘good girl’. She sent me a new email address. She wanted to fuck me all summer. I was curious as to why she was contacting me now. She told me at the beginning of last year, that she wanted to renew things with her wife, and she wanted to end our relationship. I couldn’t really argue with that, disappointed, yes, extremely.

I told her then that last January, I’d never find another woman like her. She looked puzzled, and it’s simply true. I’m over 60 now, and I get looked at differently. My age group wants 'soul-mates' and 'long walks on the beach'. The AM crowd doesn't looking for an older man. Perhaps that's part of the reason I would have liked to have continued longer with her, again for this past summer. I've been patient, and I know she appreciated that.

She clearly didn’t want to talk now at all, nothing, to the point of breaking things off again here. We sent some emails back and forth, where we both then stated all we (I too) wanted was to have hot sex this summer.

She told me of her plans to leave town in early fall, right after our first GTG. Her career was changing, and she was exploring options. I never did talk to her about much else, as we only got together 3 times before the end of June. We did still talk a bit about both wanting to get our needs met. I guess right now that is all she wanted, but she was troubled, it was clear to see and hear. All I wanted was a hot summer, as things would be changing for me also by fall, last fall.

I think it affected her more, when she couldn’t get what she wanted from her wife, only to find it with me. I don't think she really wrapped her head fully around that, or then, maybe she did, and couldn't handle it. She was pretty tight with her feelings and emotions, except when they all came out during sex. Then she was all over me, passionate, frisky, kinky, expressive, submissive.

She was sexually fantastic, yes.

After that first time back together with her, I had really thought then this past summer was going to be a hot one. It didn’t happen. I was very disappointed, as I had planned to really be aggressive with her, fuck her hard, all over, and leave her drained every time. I know it was gonna be the last time I’d see her, probably ever.

We got together in late June, a hot day, outside and inside. I wrote extensively about that day. Perhaps that may be another guest-post. After that day, I never heard from her again, as she deleted her email account, yet again. I sent her a tersely-worded v-mail one last time about a week later. She never replied, and I never heard anything else. I'm not even sure she did leave town.

Many times, we’d be lying together after a hot session, panting, sweating, holding each other. She said once, “Where’d you learn to fuck like that?” I just smiled, kissed her passionately, held her close, and start licking her all over, up and down again.

For two years, we had the best sex of our lives, and yes, I miss it.

Flash Fiction Friday 2-17-12: "A Ballet on Silk Sheets"

Daunt here. This will be the first time I've participated in Flash Fiction Friday. This weeks rules are to write about the photo below using 100 words or less, and include the word "folded". Let's see how we do.

____________

Lust, tension, and primal urgency well up within him. His body was on its own course now, no longer accepting directives from his mind. Looking down he finds her face glowing with passion and desire. With her legs folded beneath him he basks in the sensation of a final powerful thrust. Shuddering, he closes his eyes. He gently slips from her and sits back. Slowly his eyes open settling on the rose. His heart swells with emotion awestruck at her submission, but he begins to wonder, had he become the slave?

___________

Cara Lovely Cara...

Kat is on a road trip and asked me to post the latest HNT photos that Cara sent in. Yes, I'm a dog, I love my early sneak peaks; but this time was different. Yes, of course I was awe-struck and drooling and that is when I sent Kat a silly question, "Has Cara's hair always been that long?"

Kat replies, "Yes, what did you think, that it was a wig?"

Chagrined my response was, "Uhhhh well gee, I guess I never really looked at her hair..." -- Did I mention that I'm a dog?

Pssst, come close, I have a secret to tell. You want to know what's going to get you more photos? Trust me now, this will work on Cara, Kat, Soccer Mom -- hell, it'll even probably work on me -- what will get you more photos is honest appreciation; but you can't be silent. Leave a comment, send an email, do whatever it takes!

Mmmmm.... Cara....

Ashley Madison Chicago - The Beginning of a National Fucking Spree?

I have been getting an unusual number of hits over the last few days to my post about Chicago Guy coming from Google search for the keyword "Ashley Madison Chicago."  That seemed a bit odd to me, so I searched it myself and, lo and behold, the first link that came up in search was to the post, Kat's First Ashley Madison Encounter - Chicago Guy.

Then I noticed that there has been quite a bit of press in Chicago papers about Ashley Madison over the past few days, which makes sense, given Valentine's Day and Mistress Day and all.

It got me thinking that, in terms of traffic, PWK could do really well if I had sex posts representing the large metropolitan areas - Kat's Hot Ashley Madison Encounter with New York Guy, Kat Laps Up Newest Ashley Madison Encounter - Los Angeles Guy, and so on.  What do you think?

That means that I would need volunteers from the big cities of America. Any takers?

Ok, ok.  So maybe it's not a great idea.  There are several reasons why I may have to pass on this brainstorm of mine. First, I have a definite taste for quality over quantity, and I have to tell you, the quality of lovers has been pretty good right here in northern California.  Seriously, if you have a JJ, why look anywhere else?

Second, we are not all about building traffic here at PWK. Don't get me wrong, we do pretty well and our Prowlers are wonderful to us, but we're much more about 1) helping others who are struggling with their marriages and find themselves having affairs (or thinking about it) and 2) having a good time ourselves.

Third, if I went on a national fucking spree, Daunt would kill me.  Period.  Someone has to watch out for me since I don't do a very good job of it myself.

Back to Chicago...... All the Ashley Madison press in Chicago means that there are more visitors here from Chicago, so I want to roll out the red carpet and say, Welcome!" Enjoy your time perusing the archives.  There are many hot posts for you to enjoy. Some posts are collected for convenience in the pages that you can access through the menu bar, above, but I haven't added posts to those pages for a few months, so there are some good advice and sex posts that you'll just have to find by browsing the dated archives (See sidebar to the right).

My recommendation to go through the archives applies to everyone.  There's some fun stuff to be found there. Really fun, if you know what I mean.

Happy Valentine's Day!

We put on (and, hopefully, will be taking off!) our Valentine panties for you today, Prowlers.

Wait! It looks like Soccer Mom is already taking hers off....

I'm sending my love out to you, Prowlers.  Thank you for all your encouragement and support.  You're the best!

I would kiss (and lick!) each and every one of you if I could.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Marriage in the Bedroom

There are thousands of blogs out there.  Some are good, and some are not so good. Every now and then I come across a new one that catches my attention.  Marriage in the Bedroom (by Ponyboy) is one of those.

Marriage in the Bedroom is not a sex blog, but sex is a frequent topic.  It is not an infidelity blog, either, but it discusses infidelity.  Okay, I can hear you now, "Kat, if it's not a sex blog or an infidelity blog, why are you recommending it?" That's a fair question.

It's about the marital relationship, and the issues and struggles that married couples face - including sex.  It's well written and it's written by a man who is clearly living day to day in the marital trenches like most of us are.

My favorite posts so far:

A Good Wife is Not Defined by How Much She Puts Out - This is the post that first got my attention. When I read it, I saw a loving husband. What's not fabulous about that? But it's not all touchy feely hearts and smiles....

How Not to Be a Pussy - This post has five great tips on how to be a man in your marriage. Memorize them, guys.

Take Responsibility for Your Sex Life - Suggestions that the author (Ponyboy) read on another blog that have worked for him.

Alpha - Beta Balance - If you read the male "game" blogs, you read a lot about alpha, alpha, alpha, but these guys just don't get that it's not all about being Alpha. There's a time and place for it, of course, but all alpha and no beta makes a guy who has sex with his hand more than with any woman.  Ponyboy gets it.

Brain and Cock Are Not Connected, Brain and Pussy Are - This has to be one of my favorite blog post titles of all time. And it's true.

Some really good blogs have been shut down recently.  While those favorites can never be replaced, it's nice to know that we can turn to some new talent to help us fill the void.

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Oh!  While you're reading Marriage in the Bedroom, don't forget to comment, follow, etc.  Introduce yourself and make yourself at home. :-)

Random Thoughts on a Sunday Afternoon

It seems like I get lots of random thoughts on Sunday afternoons. Lucky for you (or unlucky maybe), I have no problem sharing them.

• I was struck yesterday by Luna Moon's post The Clash. She referenced the cheater's big dilemma - stay and cheat? Or leave? I know it's a dilemma that many folks struggle with. And it reminded me of some comments I made recently on the Married Man Sex Life blog. It's not a dilemma for me.  I've known since I married my husband that I would never leave him. I've learned through folks who have responded to my comments on that blog and from some of the trolls here that many folks just don't understand that having sex with someone else does not mean you don't love and care about your spouse. Some people just can't see beyond their own reality.
• Speaking of trolls, I really wish they would engage in conversation rather than just sniping and leaving sarcastic comments. They should know that we welcome the debate, but they seem to just want to judge rather than discuss anything.  That's really too bad.
• I got a phone call this morning (actually 10 phone calls) from a 25 year old young man who wouldn't identify himself.  He said he likes fucking older married women, and lots of other things that I won't share here.  He wouldn't say how he got my number or how he knows me. When I wasn't receptive to his offer, he kept calling, and calling, and calling.  At Daunt's suggestion, I forwarded my phone to the local police department for a little while. After I stopped the forwarding, the calls didn't start up again. I hope he got the message that I am not afraid to involve the police. I suppose that's a message I want to share with all my readers, too. Be nice. Most of you are wonderful.  For the very few who are not, just be nice. Okay?
• The Nicolas Cage skit on Saturday Night Live last night was hilarious! I guess SNL may be getting good again.  That would be nice.
• I just realized that I remember season 1 of SNL. Now I feel old.
• Knitting a blanket just takes too long. It will be summer time before I finish the project I'm working on at the pace I'm going.
• OMG.  I remember season 1 of SNL  and I'm knitting a blanket. {sigh} Now I feel really old. 
• There's a new blog I'm really enjoying - Marriage in the Bedroom I'll be writing a whole post to tell you why, but if you want a preview, head over there now.  As of today, the most recent post is Brain and Cock are Not Connected, Brain and Pussy Are. The author (Ponyboy) has some great insight.  Add it to your follow list.
• I just watched a commercial about a devise that you wear around your midsection.  I guess t send electric impulses to your abs and is supposed to give you a six pack without having to do any crunches. Wow! Who are the people who buy that sort of crap...uh...stuff?
• I miss JJ.  That's more of a constant thought than a random one, but I'm sharing it anyway.

Dimly Lit and Naughty

Daunt here. It’s funny how inspiration works for me. Sometimes it will blindside me at a moment I least expect, like when I wrote The Art that is Woman. Other times it comes on slow, like watching a pot of water come to a boil. One bubble then two. Five. Twelve. Then eventually the entire pot is roiling and steaming.

This afternoon Madison sent me a sweet, sexy text, "I'd love to be out with you some night in a very dimly lit place sitting close and be a bit naughty."

Of course this made me smile and for a moment my eyes go out of focus and I stare at nothing. In my mind an image gets painted, a visual of being in a romantic restaurant, dim lights, a flickering candle on the table. In our quiet little corner Madison is holding my arm, her cheek is against my shoulder. She tilts her head and her bright blue eyes look into mine. As each thought brings the picture more into focus my smile widens.

I reply to to her text, "Mmmmm, we’ll have to do that." I return my thoughts to work, but I’m unable to concentrate. The picture in my mind repeatedly reasserts itself. The slow boil had begun.

Okay, I tell myself, if this visual won’t let me work, let’s see where it wants to take me. I lean back in my chair, close my eyes, and set my imagination loose. A naughty thought pops in my head, my smile becomes mischievous and tight.

Where were we... Yes, Madison is holding my arm, her cheek is against my shoulder and she’s looking into my eyes. The story begins to take shape.

Smiling warmly I lean in and kiss her gently. I slide my hand down her leg, pulling her skirt up slightly so I can rest my right hand on her bare thigh near the knee.

My left hand plucks a glass of wine off the table, as I sip my eyes take in our surroundings; the restaurant is quiet, sultry. Scattered about couples are sharing meals and hushed conversation, their dark profiles hovering above rich long tablecloths. The warm glow of candles cast fluttering shadows across their faces.

I look back toward Madison and give her a sly wink. I set the glass of wine down and gently begin tracing light circles on her inner thigh with my finger. Slowly, taking my time, the light trace of my finger loops higher and higher. Madison shifts, I look at her face. Her eyes lock on to mine and I notice her lips are parted slightly. Her legs open a little more. She’s wanting me to touch her, I smile and keep teasing. She gives me a little whimper and a mock pout.

As Madison’s breathing becomes heavier, I decide I have made her wait long enough. My hand slides toward her pussy then stops, I raise my eyebrows in question. A wicked smile spreads across her face. “What? You thought you were going to get to be naughty first?” she laughs. She wasn’t wearing any panties.

My fingers glide across the lips of her sex, she’s dripping wet. I slide one finger into her easily then a second; she takes an urgent breath and arches her back a little. I press the palm of my hand down on her clit. “Well, you may have won the first round, but this game is mine.” I say to her, “Open the side pocket of your purse.”

Madison reaches over and lifts the flap on the side of her purse. Her eyes go wide. “What is that doing here?!”

I watch her face as I remove my fingers from inside her. She shudders and bites her lip, longing in her eyes. Pulling my hand out from under the table I hold it out palm up. “Give it here.” I say.

Madison looks around the restaurant and sheepishly slides the glass toy from her purse quickly placing it in my hand. The toy is cool to the touch. Smooth. I hold her gaze knowingly and with calm deliberation ease the toy under the edge of the table. I slip my hand under her skirt and lay the cool glass against her heated inner thigh. Her eyes glaze and a quiet breathy moan escapes her lips. Steadily the toy makes its way toward her sex. I can feel the muscles of her legs quivering in anticipation.

I slide the glass over her clit. Madison takes a fast ragged breath and grips my arm, nails digging into my bicep. Her other hand grips the edge of the seat, knuckles white. Eyes half-lidded she holds my gaze. I gently part her lips and slip the toy inside her. Her eyes fall closed and she shudders inhaling deeply.

My eyes blaze. “Look at me.” I say quietly. Upon hearing the hard edge to my tone her eyes snap open finding mine. “Who’s pussy am I playing with?”

Madison licks her lips, visibly struggling to regain composure. She takes a slow breath and replies, “It’s your pussy Master.”

I begin to play with the toy, teasing her. “And who decides when my pussy comes?” I feel her legs begin to shake.

“Oh! Ahhh... You do, Master.” she whimpers.

I wrap my fingers around the protruding glass allowing my my knuckles to rub her clit. Madison looks at me, eyes pleading. “Your pussy wants to come Master,” she gasps. I can feel her trembling.

“No... not yet. Close your eyes.” I say. Her eyes fall closed as she takes a deep breath through her nose. I scan the restaurant and find a couple across the way watching us raptly. I address Madison, “Is my pussy ready to come?” Eyes closed, face still pleading she shakes her head yes.

I swallow and take a breath. I want to sooth her. “Good, I’m I’m going to let her come shortly.” Her breathing becomes heavy, urgent. “There is a couple across from us near the door, do you know which couple I am talking about?” Her head nods affirmatively. I watch her face as I give Madison her next directive. “Open your eyes and look at them.” Her eyes slowly open and her cheeks flush when she finds them looking back at us.

I draw her back. “Look at me.” Her head turns toward me, eyes glazed searching mine. “It’s time for my pussy to come.” I say as I begin rocking the toy against her g-spot, my knuckles rubbing her clit in earnest.

“MmmmmMMMMmm!” Madison squeaks as she bucks against my hand, shuddering, gasping.

“Our couple by the door, are they still with us?” I ask. Madison raises her eyes and looks. The couple smiles broadly at her, Madison’s cheeks bloom red causing me to chuckle. “Oh yes, I can tell they’re still watching by the look on your face!” She grins, the embarrassment causes her to want to hide her face from me. Holding her chin, I lift her face to mine and give her a kiss.

The reverie finally breaks and my eyes open. I'm still at work.

"I'd love to be out with you some night in a very dimly lit place sitting close and be a bit naughty."

Yes Madison, we're definitely going to have to do this in the very near future.

When the Spouse Suspects. . .

So, what do you do when it becomes clear to you that the spouse has suspicions about your extramarital activities? I'm not talking about when you have been caught, but when your spouse is still at the suspicion stage (I'll write about what to do if you've been caught in another post).

If you find out that your spouse is suspicious, it's time to circle the wagons.  For those of you not familiar with that American old west reference, it means to focus on self-preservation. In the context of prowling, it means that it's time to focus on your marriage and cover your tracks.

Here are my tips for smoothing things over before they get out of hand:

1. Stay calm.  If you start deleting email and taking other actions without thinking, you are actually more likely to get caught. Stop.  Take a deep breath.  If your spouse is there with you, give her a hug and tell her that you love her.  I assume this is true.
2. Think about your recent behavior.  What have you done to cause her to be suspicious?  Don't kid yourself.  She didn't get suspicious for no reason. Take an honest look at your behavior and try to pinpoint where you went wrong (besides cheating in the first place).
3. Stop all current cheating behavior. I'm not saying you have to stop it forever, but at least until things calm down at home. Your sweetie will understand (unless you picked a young single woman; in that case you're beyond my help).
4. Don't immediately contact your lover unless there is an imminent threat.  Remember that your spouse will be watching you closely (and she'll probably have her friends watching you, too). You may have to wait a few days before making contact with your lover.  You'll live.  So will she. (Don't I sound authoritative as I say that?  Sometime I'll tell you about how I melt down and call Daunt crying like a baby if I don't hear from JJ for two days. Daunt should get an award for putting up with me.)
5. Spend more time with your wife. She needs you.  Be there for her.  Assure her. Do some things you enjoy doing together.
6. Have sex with your wife -- or at least try to.  She needs to know that you still want her.  Don't pull away now.  In fact, in many cases it's a change in the sex life that makes a spouse get suspicious in the first place. If you're the wife, do not stop having sex with your husband.  It's both wrong and stupid.
7. Make sure you get rid of any evidence.  Do this calmly and only when it is safe. If you just can't bear to delete those emails, you'd better secure them somehow so your spouse will never be able to get to them. And then, pay attention to #8....
8. Always remember that your spouse is smarter than you think she is. If you think your online activities are safe because your wife is not computer literate, be aware that she will find someone who is computer literate to help her snoop. People who feel that their marriage and family may be threatened become very creative and ingenious. When my husband suspected me, he did some things to check up on me that I never thought he'd be able to do.  Oops. 
9. Don't admit to anything! If your spouse is truly only suspicious and she doesn't know about your affair for sure, do not admit to an affair. It will hurt her necessarily. I know some people disagree with this, and choose to take the opportunity to admit things so they can move forward with trying to fix their marriage.  I respect that view, too, but it's dangerous. Don't do it unless you're ready for a divorce because that's where you may be headed. My advice is a bit different if you have been caught, of course.  You'll get that post soon.
10. Consider ending the affair, or at least taking a break.  You have the option of thanking your lucky stars that it was just a close call and ending the affair before you do irreparable damage to your marriage. The truth is that suspicion leads to more monitoring, and your chances of getting caught are higher if your spouse already has strong suspicions. If you decide to end it or take a break, please tell your lover and tell her the truth.  Just disappearing is cruel. Trust me.  I've been there.  It's no fun at all.

Any other tips for this situation, Prowlers?

Tell Me What You Want

Hey, Prowlers! I was thinking it would be nice to ask you what you would like to see more of on PWK in the future.  Keep in mind that we're still going to do whatever we want, but it never hurts to get some input.

Please select from the list below.  You can choose more than one thing, and you can add your own choice if you think I left something out.

Thanks for your help!

Hubby's back!

Most of you didn't know this, but my hubby had to leave town on family business for a week, so for a week I was a single mom.  It was challenging (I salute all of you single moms who bear that responsibility every day!), but it was also very nice.  I was able to spend some quality time with my kids - just them and me.  That's a rarity.  I also had just about all the freedom I could ever want.

I didn't use that freedom to be naughty; I just used it for me. I had time in the evening to read, to watch the TV shows I wanted to watch, to email, and to have late night chats with my new buddy, Mr. D. I felt like I could breathe - and it was wonderful!

Still, I really missed Hubby. I know what I just described sounds like a conflict - loving the freedom and missing Hubby - but it's not. Both happened at the same time.  In fact, Hubby and I communicated a lot while he was gone via phone and text.

One day, while we were talking on the phone, I locked the bedroom door and took off all my clothes. Then I started talking naughty with him.  Just as he was getting into it, I hit the FaceTime button on my iPhone, he accepted it, and *bam* we were having a video chat! He got naked, too, and we had a very, very nice little cam sex session. It was just enough to wet his whistle and make him want to come home as soon as possible.

So last night, we were trying to get to bed as early as possible.  If you have kids, you know that convincing them to go to bed before their bedtime is nearly impossible. We finally gave up the fight and did normal family things, living the normal family routine, until the youngest was tucked in and asleep.

By the time Hubby got to the bedroom, I was already naked and ready.  And I mean ready. He chuckled when he came into the room and saw me.

"A little anxious?" he said jokingly.

"Are you gonna get in here with me or not?" I replied.

"I am, I am.  Just hold on...." and I watched as he worked through his evening routine, which seemed much slower than usual, although I'm sure it wasn't.

I pulled back all the covers and started touching myself while I watched him.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Starting without you," I said with a naughty grin.

"Oh, hell no!" he snapped.

I don't think I've seen a man shed his clothes so quickly.  Well, I've seen JJ do it pretty fast, too. ;-)

That first kiss between us was electric, gentle, loving. To feel his arms around me and enjoy his kisses was so wonderful.  I think I could have been happy with that for a long time. I really do love that man.

I'm not sure how much time passed before he slipped a hand between my legs, but by the time he did, I was very wet and slippery. He found my clit easily and started slowly rubbing it - gently, but with purpose. I used to joke with him that when he was in a hurry, he rubbed my clit like his finger was an eraser and he was trying to erase it. Clearly, he got the point because this was no eraser-finger action.  This was sensuous and erotic.

I relaxed and tiled my head back, closed my eyes. The next thing I felt was his mouth on one of my nipples, suckling gently, then flicking the nipple with his tongue. I reached for the other nipple and began pinching it lightly.

I reached down with my other hand and found his cock - hard, throbbing, damp with precum. I wanted it right then, but I knew he'd want me to cum first this way so I stroked him as I felt the sensations "down there" escalate from "feeling good" to "jolts of pleasure" to "full blown orgasm." He released my nipple and kissed me while I came.

He kept fingering me until the peak had passed and I was on the downside of the orgasm.  Then he plunged several fingers inside me, found the sweet spot, and finger fucked me to help me keep it coming.

I screamed into his mouth.  He bit my lip until my screams became a whimper.  Then he took his wet fingers out of my mouth and put them in mine.  We stared into each other's eyes as I licked and sucked them clean. That was probably the most intimate moment of the whole experience. We connected, just like we used to before 25 years, several kids, and the challenges of life changed us and took our focus off of each other and put our attention everywhere except our bedroom. Navigating our way through the last six months of infidelity, revelation, and discovery brought back some of what we had lost.

He rose up onto his knees and I took his cock into my mouth.  I sucked him exactly the way he like it - with long, deep strokes - fully expecting him to come in my mouth, but he stopped me after about a minute and told me to get on my hands and knees.

The loving gentleness that he showed when he was teasing my clit was gone, and now he was demanding, forceful.  He slid his cock in me slowly, but that first stroke was the only slow and gentle thing about it. Then he grabbed my hips and fucked me hard, shifting slightly to change the angle sometimes, and varying the speed and force. I'd be just about ready to come and he'd change things, bringing me back from the edge.  It occurred to me that he was doing to me exactly what I so enjoyed doing to him (and others) - controlling the pleasure, waiting until he was ready to give it.

Almost without warning, his fingers dug into my hips and he started moaning...no, growling, as he came.  He pulled me back onto him for one last time, holding me there so securely that I couldn't have moved if I wanted to.

He collapsed next to me, grabbed a washcloth that he had placed next to the bed, and started cleaning himself. He usually had a wash cloth for both of us, but not today.

After a moment, I asked, "Where's mine?"

He smiled and reached over to his nightstand, coming back with my favorite egg vibrator and its remote control in his hand.

"We're not done with you yet," he said with a mischievous smile.

Yup, I was very glad he was home.

How to End a Date

If you haven't seen this yet, enjoy!  It's hilarious! I especially like the way he says, "Your move" at the end.

MTV Shows

I think I need to go out and get Jenga. ;-)

TMI Tuesday 2/7/12 with DauntlessD

This weeks TMI Tuesday theme is Let's Go to Bed.

1. A friend is coming to have sex. There are 3 twin beds and an air mattress in the room. What do you do? (choose one)

Well this is interesting, it sounds like I'm waiting on my friend to come over...

a. Have sex where ever we land first, who needs a bed?

Well, this could certainly happen if I'm attacked by my lover upon her arrival.

b. Have sex on a single twin mattress

Single twin, single twin, single twin. Yes that sounds like a bit of a paradox! But really, am I having sex only once? Must I choose only one?

c. Have sex on an air mattress

Ah-ha! Now we're talking! Rambunctious sex as many times as I want with a personal goal of popping that sucker!

d. Or? (tell us your solution)

2. What is the oddest thing you have in your bedroom that someone would be surprised to find. Why is it there?

To some degree the oddest thing would depend on who that someone is. But, generally I would say Hot Rod, Pink Cuffs or the book I've been reading as of late with lots of pictures, Screw the Roses, Send me the Thorns. They're there for sex of course! I started exploring a little late in life, but I am exploring!

3. What are your favorite sheets?

a. Flannel

I love flannel sheets on cold winter nights. Very cozy.

b. Cotton

If I had to choose I'd say high thread-count cotton sheets are my favorite.

c. T-shirt cotton (jersey)

I've never tried these, I'm curious though. Leave a comment and tell me if you like them.

d. Satin

I've never tried satin either. I bet satin sheets feel lovely against your skin; great for sex I bet, but what about sleeping?

4. Do you sleep with sheets tucked in or out? Why?

This question seems kind of funny. Of course the bottom sheet is tucked in. The top one is tucked in about half way up from the foot of the bed, but having the top sheet tucked in at the head of the bed would seem to make it difficult to get in and out of bed. I suppose the top sheet could be tucked back in after I'm in bed by someone else... Why am I envisioning standing the mattress up and using a roll of plastic wrap to keep a person in the bed with the top sheet tucked in...?

5. What is your usual bedtime? Why?

a. 8-10 pm

With a regular work schedule this is mostly the correct answer, with a bit of D.

b. 10-12 midnight

c. 12-24

huh?

d. Whenever my eyes won’t stay open any longer.

5. Do you sleep with closet door(s) shut or open? Bedroom door shut or open? Any particular reason why?

My answer on this will probably be a bit boring for folks. I sleep with the closet doors shut because the room looks less cluttered. The bedroom door is typically kept shut because it's more quiet in my room that way. Also, my dog sleeps on the floor on her bed in my bedroom and with the door shut I don't have to listen to her wandering in and out, click-ity click-ity on the wood floor, during the night.

6. Have you ever broken a bed or other furniture during sex?

No I haven't, but boy I'm sure I've come close! I've had the room look practically re-arranged :-)

7. What’s your favorite type of bed for sex?

Not long ago I would have said I'm not sure. However with recent discovery, I would say a bed with posts or a headboard and foot-board you can tie things too. Light Bondage Anyone?

8. What do you sleep in?

a. Lingerie

Eeek! No I don't have this kind of kink!

b. Underwear

Yup, this is me; just my boxer-briefs and nothing else.

c. Day clothes

Eww...

d. T-shirt

I feel constricted with a t-shirt.

e. Nothing

With a lover.

Say thanks to My Undercover Metamorphosis for supplying the questions, and the TMI Tuesday Blog for disributing them by giving their sites a visit.

A Visit from Soccer Mom

Soccer Mom sent some delightful new photos to share with you, Prowlers.  Here's the first.  Isn't she just delicious?

Random Thoughts on Super Bowl Sunday

• It's almost kick-off time and, yes, I'm watching the game. Strong, burly, sweaty men in tight pants - what's not to love? Without the Niners in the game, my interest in the game itself is not as heightened as it would have been if my SF boys were playing today, but I do have a little bit of an investment in one of the teams today.  Can you guess which one?  Hint: The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
• Super Bowl Sunday always feels like a celebration of men to me. Strength, sport, testosterone, perseverance. The players line up on the sidelines before the game, pacing and shifting and restless, like caged animals just waiting for a chance to fight. Any woman who isn't turned on by that must be missing an X chromosome. 
• Since it's a celebration of men, I find myself reflecting gratefully on the most important men in my life - my husband and sons, my brothers, Daunt, and JJ.These guys form a scaffold of strength and support around me that allows me to feel safe exploring the world and being who I am.  I'm also grateful for the men I met online who have become, and still are, friends of mine - Army Guy, SomewhereMan, Mr. D., Ryan Beaumont, and some others who would rather not be mentioned. Thanks, guys.
• I received a few emails this morning about my posts An Unexpected Encounter with R - Part 1 and Part 2. Folks were wondering if JJ knew about R and if he had any problem with my playing around with other guys.  Whoa! I realized that I had to put a clarification out right way. My encounters with R were all pre-JJ.  My JJ is my only playmate these days.  Have I really become a two-man woman?  Yes, I have. I know, it's shocking, isn't it?
• Speaking of JJ, I saw him 4 days ago and I miss him already.  Heck, I missed him an hour after I  drove away from our last rendezvous. I'll post more about our last meeting on JJ's blog, JJ Loves Kat!
• I  have received some email recently about guest posting. We love guest posts! If you would like to write a guest post, put something together and email it to either me or DauntlessD. We'll take a look and if it is consistent with PWK's theme and is decently written we will post here. Don't worry, as you already know, you don't have to be the world's best writer to be published on PWK, you just have to be horny and capable of putting a few sentences together.  If you're not a writer but you'd like to contribute a naughty pic, feel free to send it over.  Just be sure that you have right to the picture you'd like to post.

It's time for me to pay attention to the game.

I'm raising my glass to men today! Hazah!

An Unexpected Encounter with R - Part 2 of 2

If you haven't read Part 1 of this post, click here to catch up.

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As I drove toward the hotel on North Street, I started thinking about R.  He was the definition of "tall dark, and handsome." He had dark brown hair, striking blue eyes, and that particular tone of skin that would tan to a golden bronze within a few hours of being out in the sun. The more he tanned, the more alluring his eyes became. He was 6'4" and solid, one of the strongest men I knew.  His strength wasn't developed in a gym, but over decades of tossing hay bales, repairing machinery, and hauling irrigation pipes on the family farm. He had left the area to go to college, but he came back when his father passed away, and now the farm was his. He didn't dress or act like a farmer, though.  The only real giveaway was his farmer's tan - stark tan lines on his neck and arms where his sun-exposed skin met the part of him covered by a plain T-shirt.

He was one of those men who actually looks better in jeans and a t-shirt than he does in a suit or a tuxedo. Those fancier clothes hid his strong physique and muted his masculinity, making him look small. I hated it when his wife made him "dress up" like that.  I wondered if he did,.too.

He married his high school sweetheart soon after he came back after college. Twenty years and two kids later, she looked angry all the time and they were rarely seen together around town.

I became more and more nervous the closer I got to the hotel. I was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea after all.  I remembered my motto at the time - "Fuck globally, but only flirt locally." Sex with someone from my own town was extremely dangerous. There were eyes everywhere and the gossip mill was relentless.  One only had to be seen more than a few times with a married person of the opposite sex and the rumors would start flowing. And if things went bad the fallout would have a direct impact on my husband and my kids, and that was not okay with me. No man was worth that.

Yet there I was, driving into the hotel parking lot and pulling behind the building. I saw his truck and I parked next to it. I noticed a note on his windshield. I got out of my car and retrieved it. The only thing written on it was the number "124."  I threw my purse over my shoulder and set out to find room 124.

The first thing I noticed when he opened the door was that his shirt was off. Any reservations I had before that moment were gone and I stepped into the room quickly.

He lifted my purse off my shoulder and onto the table with one hand and he put the other on the back of my head, pulling me in for a kiss as he kicked the door closed. I started unbuttoning his jeans, a task made more difficult by the fact that we were kissing deeply so I couldn't see what I was doing and the fact that he was already so hard that the fabric was stretched tight, resisting my efforts. Feeling his cock through his pants sparked my memory of the thick eight inches I had enjoyed at least five times that night in the tent, and I worked on those buttons with more focus and urgency.

The few seconds of delay gave him time to get my blouse and my bra off and to start pulling up my skirt. Just as he had my panties down, assisted considerably by some strategic wiggling on my part, his cock was finally free.  I knelt to pull his pants and underwear down, and I took his cock into my mouth as he was stepping out of his clothes.

I was surprised when he pulled me up, turned me around, bent me over the table, and pulled up my skirt. I shoved my purse out of the way forcefully and heard it crash to the floor, emptying its contents, as he drove his hardness into me. We both gasped and moaned, like a deep and longstanding thirst had finally been quenched. He fucked me hard and deep, his hands on my hips pulling me back onto him as he pumped his hips forward.

This wasn't like our experience in the tent.  That was slow and sensuous and quiet.  This was fast and raw, punctuated by the sounds of his moans and my screams as his hard thrusts lifted my feet off the floor. This was four years of passion and desire erupting all at once.

I was close to orgasm when I felt him start to release into me. He pulled me back onto him and tried to hold me there as he came, but I kept rocking forward and back as best I could, trying to bring myself over the threshold before he finished. I groaned in protest as his satisfied cock started shrinking.

He pulled me up to standing and turned me around to face him. Short of breath and glistening just a little with sweat, he pulled me close to him, kissed my forehead and said, "I'm sorry, darlin'.  I just couldn't wait, but it's your fault.  You felt so damned good!"  He laughed and added, "Don't worry. We're nowhere near done yet."

I started moving toward the bed. I looked back at him and said, "Oh, I know we're not." Then I stretched out on the bed and closed my eyes. I could feel him lay down next me and slowly start to trace his finger around one of my nipples, just like I saw him tracing his finger around the rim of his coffee cup only an hour ago. Keeping my eyes closed, I turned my face toward him and smiled.  He kissed me gently.  That was the kiss I remembered.

I felt his hands on me, touching me everywhere, slowly working their way all over me as if he were examining every inch with his touch. I moved as he indicated, still with my eyes closed, letting his hands guide me. My skin felt aroused, even in the most innocuous of places.  I shivered when he touched my arm. I felt a jolt of electricity as he touched my hip. 

When he touched my clit, I arched my back and started grinding against his hand. He slid two fingers inside me and continued to rub my clit with his thumb. I screamed as I started to come and he kissed me, breathing me in, kissing me until I stopped shaking.

The rest was a blur, with one act of pleasure fading right into the next. At one point I remember laying next to him, suckling his hard cock for what seemed like the longest time, my throat totally relaxed, just enjoying the taste and feel and pressure.  When he came close to climaxing, I pulled back a bit, waiting for him to come back down before I dove back in, swallowing the head again. It was unlike any blow job I had ever experienced, not just because it lasted for the better part of an hour, but because it didn't feel like it was for him at all.  It was for me.  I was enjoying it and ignoring his pleas for release.

At some point, I think he grew weary of the game - or he just couldn't stand it anymore - and he grabbed my hair, pushing and holding me down on him while he pumped his hips fast, fucking my mouth. He drove his cock into my throat as he came.  I could feel the throbbing as his cum spurted out in waves, and it went on so long that I was beginning to be concerned about taking a breath. I struggled to pull my head up but he held me down forcefully. I grabbed his hands and tried to pry them off my head, but I couldn't move him. With his cock in my throat, I couldn't make any sound, no pleading groan or whimper. Just as I was about to dig my fingernails into his balls to make him release me, he grabbed two handfuls of hair and pulled me up and off his cock. The pop of the head coming out of my throat was audible, and I gasped for air as I was falling back away from him.

.Neither of us spoke. I caught my breath and looked over at him.  He was still shaking, his cock was still hard.

I rolled over and looked at the clock.  Three hours had passed since I showed up at the hotel. My pussy, my ass, and the back of my throat were all sore. I was drenched with cum.

It was time to go.

We both cleaned up and got dressed in silence, but it wasn't an awkward silence at all.  It was more of a communal silence, the kind that said more than any number of words could have.

When we were both ready to go, I gave him a hug and we kissed as we stood at the door. I put my hand on the door nob but he quickly put his hand on mine to stop  me from opening the door. I turned and looked up at him with an eyebrow raised.

He smiled and said, "Thursday.  Noon. Here. Will that work?"

I nodded.  Then I got up on my tippy toes to give him one more quick kiss before I opened the door and headed for the parking lot.  I heard the door close behind me.  I guessed that he was going to wait a few minutes until I was gone so no one would see us leave here together.

That was a Monday. The next morning, when I went out to my car to go to work, there was a note wedged in the window on the driver's side.  It simply read, "Thursday is too far away. Today."

Yup, I thought.  We've got a lot of time to make up.

An Unexpected Encounter with R - Part 1 of 2

I saw R sitting at a table near the coffee bar in the grocery store. He was reading a book and absentmindedly tracing his finger along the rim of his coffee cup. I wanted to go over and say hello, but I didn't know if I should.  Maybe he didn't want to talk and that would feel awkward.  Or maybe his wife was shopping right now and she'd show up at any moment.

I had passed up at least five times to talk to him alone over the past few years when I saw him around town. We hadn't spoken alone, without spouses or kids around, since that night about four years ago.

We were on a camping trip not far from home. R was there with his two sons and I was there with my oldest.  That night was the third and final night of the trip and my husband had gone home earlier in the day because he wasn't feeling well.  His wife didn't go on the trip with us because she hated camping. The boys had were asleep in one tent, passed out after an evening of s'mores and scary campfire stories. That left  the other tent for the adults.

As the night wore on, he got drunk - not falling over blackout drunk, but just beer drunk enough to smooth the edges off his inhibitions. It was a little uncomfortable, but it wasn't a big deal. I shouldn't have been surprised when he unzipped my sleeping bag and slid his hand under my shirt as he pressed his hard cock against me. Actually, I wasn't surprised at all, but I was in one of those strange states of mind where I wanted it to happen, but I also didn't want it to happen. There was too much that could go wrong. If one of the kids woke up and heard us or came into the tent looking for one of us....I didn't even want to think how bad that would be. Until the kids were asleep and I realized how drunk he was, I had no reason to expect that anything would happen.

But it did happen. We fucked all night, alternating between sex and slumber. I woke first in the morning and hurried out of the tent to go wash up at the creek before anyone else woke up. Washing cum out of my pussy and off my thighs in ice cold creek water was enough to shock any romanticism out of the whole experience. I hoped he'd be able to let this go and consider it a big mistake.

The boys awoke next and I started making coffee for R and me and some breakfast for us all. R stumbled out of the tent to the smell of coffee and bacon, looking very hung over. He grunted good morning at everyone before tripping down to the creek.

When he came back from the creek, he seemed wide awake and alert and he gave no indication that anything had happened.  I was relieved.   Later that morning we broke camp and headed home.

 R and I never spoke about that night or even acted like anything had happened. I often wondered if he was embarrassed about it or if he regretted it. I can't say I regretted it at all.  Even drunk, he was a decent lover, and the sensuousness of that night was hard not to think about and crave - Total darkness, total silence (except for the sounds of crickets and wind in the trees). It was all about touch and taste and smell, and the rippled shudders of pleasure.

And now he was sitting in front of me in the grocery store coffee corner. I took a deep breath and approached him slowly.

"Hi, Stranger," I said, trying to sound casual.

He looked up from his book and smiled. "Hey you."

His smile looked genuine. He motioned toward the chair next to him and invited me to sit. As we started chatting, I established immediately that he was there alone.  His wife was nowhere nearby. Then we talked about our kids and my husband, my business and his job.

I was just starting to feel comfortable when he asked, "Been camping lately?" with a broad, knowing grin on his face.

My heart stopped for a moment and I didn't reply for what felt like a long time. I thought that I was probably misreading his expression, so I should reply as if he meant nothing by it.

I finally spoke. "Not this year. The creek is way too crowded with RVs and people who don't know that traveling with a $200,000 villa on wheels with satellite TV is not really camping."

He laughed. "I know what you mean.  I like it when it's less crowded, too.  It was pretty nice - and private - the last time we were there, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," I replied. "Maybe too private." I thought I'd give him the chance to express that it was a mistake or whatever, but he didn't take the bait.

"I thought it was perfect," he said. "The best time I've ever had in a tent."

I looked away and I'm sure I was blushing, too. "If you enjoyed it so much, how come you never said anything about it all these years?"

"Because you kept acting like nothing had happened," he said. "I thought you wanted to forget it.  I figured I was too drunk and sloppy, and that was a little embarrassing, by the way. Why didn't you say anything?"

He was leaning forward in his chair now, looking at me with a shocked and expectant expression.

I chuckled and shook my head. "Well, this is interesting. I thought you just wanted to forget it."

"Forget it?!" he exclaimed. "I haven't stopped thinking about it for four years!" He leaned back, sighed heavily, and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't believe it," he continued.  "Do you mean that you were ok with it and we maybe could have, you know, tried it again?"

I just smiled and nodded.

"Holy shit," he mumbled.  His eyes drifted to the other side of the store, but he wasn't really looking at anything; he was thinking. Then he seemed to suddenly jump back to our conversation and he said, "What are you doing this afternoon? Do you have a few hours? I'm off today and I won't be missed for another five hours.What about you?"

I didn't know what to say. I was just hoping for a tension-free conversation with the dad of one of my son's friends.  I wasn't expecting a proposition.

"Uh, yeah.  I guess I can disappear for a few hours without raising any eyebrows."

"Great," he said, smiling and nodding and looking so damned sexy that I could barely stand it. "How about if we meet at that hotel on North Street, the one beyond the freeway way out on the edge of town?"

"That's a good choice," I said.

"Yeah, the parking lot is completely out of public view.  It feels pretty secure."

"Yes, it does," I replied, realizing that we had just established that both he and I had done our share of fooling around locally since we were last "together."

He stood up, tossed the coffee cup in the trash, and grabbed his book, "I'll see you there in 30 minutes," he said. Then he patted me on the shoulder and walked out of the store. No, he was half walking, half jogging out to the parking lot, with a bounce in his step that made him look like an excited little boy.

I waited around for a couple of minutes, pretending to read the newspaper that was laying on the table. On the off chance that someone we knew was watching, I didn't want it to look like we were leaving together. Then I stood up and slowly walked out to my car and headed toward North Street.

To be continued......