Thursday, May 31, 2012

Fisting. I Get It.

Yes, Prowlers.  I get it. You like fisting, or at least you like reading about it.

I think you have alerted the people at Google and now someone there is asking, "Who is this Kat person? And why do people keep going to her looking for 'fisting' and 'fisting stories'?"

Seriously, I didn't know so many people were into or looking for fisting, but the stats don't lie.

Wait, I need to directly answer Mr. Google-man's question: Why?  Because Prowlers are very, very naughty boys and girls who like to suck the marrow out of life (among other things) and reach for hitherto unknown heights of sexual pleasure.

Unfortunately, my friends, I haven't had a good fisting in a long time (months), so I can't yet provide you with any new stories. Before you get upset, please be aware that it's not my fault. My pussy has been open for business and available for fisting all along, but I can't help it if my honey hasn't chosen to go there.  So, file your complaints elsewhere.

For now, here are links to my fisting posts in case you missed any of them.

Delicious Irony - A Naughty Fisting Story This is my favorite fisting story.

Gone Fisting ...... This is an informational post, but there is at least one video link, too.

Double Fisting? Yowza! This is my favorite fisting experience.

All Filled Up - A Naughty Story Re-reading this one inspired me to shoot of a text to P to see how he's doing.

There you go.  Four fisting posts.  Three fisting stories. Three unbelievably hot men and one horny Kat.

You like fisting.  I get it.

Who doesn't?

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Fifty Shades and a Friend

I finally broke down and read Fifty Shades of Grey, by E.L. James.  Actually, I read that one and Fifty Shades Darkness and I'm in the middle of the third book of the trilogy, Fifty Shades Freed. I was going to read them on vacation  next month, but a girlfriend of mine read the trilogy and she really wanted me to read it, too, and give her my opinion.

She knows about the blog, but she has never read it, doesn't have the URL, doesn't know about the infidelity part, and she doesn't know about Kat. In short, she knows I have a blog that has some explicit sex in it, but that's about it. I would love to give her the URL and let her read to her heart's content, but you know I can't take that risk.

Anyway, I'll be writing a review of the Fifty Shades books when I finish the trilogy, which will be soon. Don't worry, if you haven't read them yet and you're planning to read them later, I'll give you a spoiler alert.
she starts talking about them on the phone.

"Can you believe how controlling he is?! I can't imagine being monitored wherever I go and whoever I"m with," she says. She's referring to one of the main characters in the book, Christian Grey.

Welcome to my world, I think. Imagine trying to have an affair under that scrutiny.  It's not easy.

I wonder if she has any idea that Hubby is as obsessed with that as Christian Grey. Well, at least Hubby has a reason not to trust me.

She goes on to talk about the BDSM lifestyle and she tells me Googled it, doing some research, and it looks like how the book describes it is pretty realistic.

I smile, glad that we're talking on the phone and she can't see the look on my face.

"Really?" I ask, pretending I don't know anything about it, and wondering if she'll ever now that my research has been a bit more...uh....hands on.

"Yes!" she exclaims. "And have you noticed that, since you've been reading it, you feel closer to your husband?  More like when you first met?"

"Sure," I answer, trying to sound convincing. "I have been sharing it with Hubby as I go along.  He knows the story line."

"But has it helped your sex life?" she whispers.  I can hear her little girl in the background.

"A bit," I respond, trying to sound coy, like I'm embarrassed to talk about it. What I really want to say is No, It hasn't had an impact on my sex life with Hubby at all, but I've been horny as hell for my lover for days and he's "not available."  Again.  Still.  Whatever.

"Well, all the women I've talked to who have read it say it's made a big difference in their marriage."

I have this image of ice queen housewives around the world taking off their frosty chastity belts and finally giving their desperate husbands some sex. Well done, E.L. James. You have accomplished what men haven't been able to do for centuries and what Masters & Johnson have been unable to do for decades.

Then she asks a question I don't expect. "If you had to pick a safe word, what would it be?" she giggles.

This comes from the book, when our horny little heroine has to pick a safe word (book 3).

"Rutabaga," I answer.  She laughs.

"Well," I say, "It has to be a word that would not come up in the course of normal conversation in that context."

"What about 'Red'?" she asks. "Like in the first book."

"Red is a bad safe word.  It could very likely come up in that situation," I say authoritatively, regretting it the second it's out of my mouth.

I remember the Dom I had when I was 20 who made me beg him to whip my inner thighs until the welts were bright red. Not pink, but red. I'm instantly wet.

I can hear her smile on the other end of the line. "Ms. Kat," she coos, "It sounds like you know what you're talking about."

I laugh. "Hardly," I say. "You know Hubby.  Can you imagine him doing that?  I just have the feeling that 'rutabaga' is as safe a word as there is."

"What about 'Popsicle'?" she asks.

Popsicle is the safe word Ana picked in book 3. All I can think about is that same Dom who tortured me by fucking me with a Popsicle.  Then when it was all melted (which didn't take long), he ate my pussy until I came three times.  The third time was so intense I was begging him to stop, but he wouldn't. He waited until I was crying, then he climbed on top and fucked me. I don't think I've ever been so grateful for a cock in my life.

I was pretty sure I shouldn't tell her that I've experienced the word 'Popsicle' coming up during sex, because I've also licked plenty of nice hard cocks like Popsicles, too.  Now I'm uncomfortably wet and my pussy is twitching.  I need to end this conversation.

"Popsicle would be an excellent safe word," I say definitively.

She laughs again and tells me that I need to hurry up and finish that last book so we can get together and talk about it. Then she asks about the blog, how it's going, and so on.  I answer non-noncommittally like I always do. We exchange a few more pleasantries and  the conversation ends for now.

I'm relieved.

Maybe I should finish that third book now.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

The Distance Between Us

I'm sitting at my desk at work.  The doors to my office are closed and locked. My staff thinks that means I'm focused and writing, but what it really means is that I just want to be alone.

I'm sad today. I miss you. I haven't been with you for awhile - too long - and right now I don't know when I'll see you again. If I could pick up the phone and call you, I would, so I could hear your voice.  Even that would cut through the distance between us.

I remember the last time we were together. I remember everything about it - the feel of your touch, the taste of your mouth, the scent of your skin. I close my eyes and relive it, from the opening of the door to your gentle goodbye kiss. I remember standing on my tippy toes to put my arms around your neck as I lifted my lips up to kiss you, and how I was so happy to see you. It was the beginning of a few hours together, but at that moment it was the beginning - just the beginning - and time didn't matter.

I remember watching you undress and trying to memorize every curve, every ridge, every muscle, every hair. I knew that the time would come when the distance between us would lead me to think back on this moment and I wanted it burned in my memory.

When you climbed onto the bed and wrapped your arms around me, I sighed.  Relief. You're here. In my arms. No more waiting.  Next month became next week which became tomorrow which finally became now.

Your kiss was demanding, forceful, like you wanted to devour me completely in the first few minutes. It was clear that you felt you had been patient enough, too. Now was the time for indulgence, for taking, for possessing.

For me, it was the time for surrender, for letting go, for pleasing you.

When you entered me, I moaned. Part of that moan was about the amazing physical sensation of your hard cock taking me.  Part of it was the emotion. The emotion of feeling you inside me again. How can I tell you that I never feel better, never feel happier, than when you're with me and I'm giving myself to you? For these few hours, there's no distance between us. We're connected and nothing can come between us.  Not your wife.  Not my husband.  Not the kids.  Not your job or mine.

When I come, I feel like I'm melting into you and everything feels right. Exactly, perfectly, completely right.

As I think about this now, I can almost feel your hands on me.  I can almost feel you inside me.


Until I open my eyes and the memory dissipates like smoke. All that's left is the distance between us.

Friday, May 25, 2012

When Your Wife's Pie Gets Cold...

I ran across this on the Ashley Madison Facebook page this morning and I just had to share it. Admit it.  It makes you smile, doesn't it?

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

And When I Got Home....

Hubby already had dinner on the table. Wow!  I was impressed.  I figured that all of my naughty texting throughout the day did the trick.  Of course, I was home a bit late from work, but it wasn't too late.

There was flirting.  There was reference to the awesome blow job he had earned. I stroked him a little while we were eating dinner.  Yes, we were on our way to some fun.

Then he turned on he Giants game.  Great! We finished dinner and kept watching the game.  We decided to go to bed and play after the game.  Ok, I know some of you are thinking, "What???!!!  You're postponing sex for a baseball game?"  I know.  In retrospect, I would have ditched the game. But at the time I didn't know.

I didn't know the game, being played in Milwaukee, would go 14 innings. That's right. 14 innings.  We thought about going to bed and not watching, but it was tied and in extra innings and, ohmygod, what if the most exciting play in the world happens and we miss it?

Remember, I had been up since 5:00 a.m. and at work for 15 hours before I came home.  I was already exhausted.  By the time the game was over, that hot little minx who had been sending the sexy texts all day was almost catatonic. And the old guy who was hard as a cock at dinner time was dozing off and drooling.  Sexy, huh?

The game finally ended.  Yes, the Giants won, but by then I really didn't care.  We went to bed.  Well I took a shower first.  He was a sleep before I got to bed and I think I fell asleep as I was laying down.

When the alarm went off in the morning (5:00 a.m.), Hubby got up, went to the kitchen and brought me my coffee a few minutes later.  By the way, he started doing that when he heard that Cara's honey does it for her.  Isn't that sweet?

As I took the coffee from him, I asked, "Did we have sex last night and was it good?"  He laughed and said, "I was going to ask you the same thing." We agreed that we would have sex the next night (which was last night).

I was ready this time.  So was he. I got home late. We had dinner.  We agreed on what time we were going to bed regardless of what was happening with the Giants game.  I set the alarm on my phone.  We watched the game and got the little one through his evening routine and in bed a shade early (I regretted that we had taught him to tell time. "But Mooooooommmmyyyyy, it's not time yet!!!) and when my alarm went off, we shut things down and went to bed.  Yes, it was still light out.

Oooo la la. There was kissing. There was touching. There was wetness. Hubby reached down between my legs and started playing with my clit.  Then he started sucking on one of my nipples, too. I was loving it.  What a wonderful way to start an evening of playtime. I came quickly and hard. I kissed him and started reaching down to stroke him and....

He got up and went to the bathroom.

That's ok, I thought.  He's going to clean up for his blow job.  He's so sweet that way.

You know where this is going, don't you?

He came back from the bathroom, turned off the little desk lamp we keep on during sex, climbed into bed, kissed me on the forehead and said, "Goodnight.  I love you."  Then he rolled over.

I waited about 30 seconds, then I tapped him on the shoulder.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Is that it?" I replied."I kinda hoped we were gonna, you know, get a little dirtier than that.  A little BJ, a little fucking, a little moaning......cumming two or three times...."

"But aren't you tired?" he said.

There were three Kat's there at that moment and I wasn't sure which one would answer.

Kat #1 was a mature adult who wanted to say, "You're right and it's going to be another long day tomorrow.  Thank you, Sweetie. I love you. Goodnight."

Kat #2 was an angry bitch who wanted to scream, "What the fuck?!?! What's the matter with you? Have you completely forgotten what sex is?"

Kat #3 was a hurt and disappointed little girl with a quivering lip who wanted to say, "Yes, I'm tired, promised."

I ultimately decided that my best chance of getting sex the next night (which is tonight) would be to go with Kat #1.

As I started talking to answer him, though, I heard him snore.

I'll be going home a little late tonight again, but I have a new strategy. I'm going to try for sex before dinner.

I'll keep ya posted.

Monday, May 21, 2012

Work, Sex, Communication....and Marital Discord

I know I haven't been posting regularly, Prowlers. I'm sorry about that.  Trust me, I really want to post often, but sometimes life just gets in the way. This time, it has been work that has interfered. As many of you know, I own a small business and the buck stops with me, as they say. I've been working long hours and not having time to do any of the things I really enjoy.

And that includes sex.

Marital sex is complicated enough under the best of circumstances, but when you throw in crazy work hours and work-induced exhaustion, it's even worse.

For example, I worked a 15 hour day yesterday (yes, on Sunday), came home, fixed dinner for the family (late), cleaned up, got the little one bathed and to bed, showered myself and went to bed. Don't even get me started on why I had to make dinner when Hubby and my adult son were home all day lounging around; that's really another conversation entirely, but it is related to the exhaustion factor.

In spite of all of that, I was up for sex.  Heck, I'm always up for sex. In fact, I primed the pump, so to speak, in the shower and it wouldn't have taken much to make me very, very happy, relaxed, and ready for my six hours of sleep.

I got in bed, and there was Hubby.  Sweet Hubby. Hubby had a dilemma.  He knew I've been working like crazy and he doesn't want to pressure me into sex when he knows I'm tired.  Of course, he had no problem with that over the dinner issue, but I digress.....again.

He also knows that, generally speaking, I want sex all the time. He's not particularly interested in sex.

He's confused. He has a dilemma.  What to do?  What to do?

So, he says, "I can do you if you want. I don't want it, but I can do you if you want."

Wow.  What a way to get a gal's pussy quivering....NOT.

I would have enjoyed sex, even as tired as I was, but I was too tired to deal with "duty sex" and the emotion that it stirs up in me. And I was way too tried to have the conversation that usually goes along with duty sex (explaining to Hubby, in language that men understand, why his offer is not alluring in any way).

I responded, "No, thank you."  That's it.  A simple, "No, thank you."

Hubby knew he was in trouble. He was ready for, "Sure, let's fuck!" or a conversation of some kind, but "No, thank you" in that situation is wife-speak for, "Don't do me any favors, you son-of-a-bitch. And don't touch me, either."

I rolled over and was in the process of falling asleep (because I really was that tired), but he wanted to talk. Uuugghhhhhh. So, we talked about the duty sex offer.  We talked about how many hours I've been working and how he wants me to work less.  We talked about how I'd like a little help around the house.  We talked about how he misses me because I'm gone so much.  We talked about how little sex we've had recently and his fear that it means I'm getting it elsewhere (which is true, but not lately. Why?  Because I'm working too much!).

By the time the conversation was done, I was wishing I had ignored my abhorrence of duty sex and just said, "Sure, let's fuck!" We would have been done a lot sooner. A lot sooner.

It occurred to me this morning that this bout of marital discord could have been avoided with just a little bit better communication before we got into bed. All I had to do was indicate that I wanted it or not and Hubby never would have been forced into his atrocious duty sex offer which started the downhill spiral. While I was tired, I wasn't too tired to say, "Let's get it on" or "Let's skip sex tonight, ok?" That's all it would have taken.

But I didn't say anything. The real problem wasn't that I have been working too much (although that is a problem).  The real problem was communication....again.

So, today I decided that I was not going to make the same mistake. I sent Hubby the following series of text messages throughout the day:

7:00 a.m. - Please be advised that I would like a nice hard fucking tonight.

10:00 a.m. - Still want to cum.  Don't forget.

11:00 a.m. - Did I mention I'm not wearing a bra today?

12:30 p.m. - I'm looking at the picture on my desk of our trip to Florida.  Remember making love in the hot tub?

2:30 p.m. - (No words, just a picture of my tits I took in the bathroom with my phone.)

4:00 p.m. - I'll be home by 7:00. Can you get dinner started? That will leave me more energy to give you a nice long blow job later.

5:30 p.m. - Do we have to wait 'til bedtime?  Can't we just duck into the back room for a few minutes while the kids are watching TV?  Better yet...let's do that AND do it at bedtime, too!

6:30 p.m. - Did I mention that I'm horny and I would love some hot sex with you tonight?  Be home soon.;-)

Think he got the message?

I'll let you know. It's time to head home.

Friday, May 18, 2012

The Other Husband

I knew it would happen eventually, but I wasn't prepared for it. Hubby did all of his fooling around locally - with women I know. These are women I see around town regularly.  One is the mother of a child at my son's school.  Others attend my church.

There's really nothing to say or do when I have a "slut sighting," as I call it, except smile sweetly and get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

What I wasn't prepared for was an encounter with a husband or boyfriend of one of Hubby's playmates.  I was innocently walking around the block at lunch time to shake off some work stress and Mr. M walked out of a business onto the sidewalk and right into my path.  I stopped for a moment, startled. he said, "Oh! Excuse me!" and then he looked up and saw who I was and then he looked startled, too.

It was one of those slow motion moments - two people staring at each other for what seemed like forever but it probably was only a second. I turned away first, said, "Sorry" quickly, and started walking away.

What is the polite thing to say in such a situation?  As some of you will remember from some earlier posts, I have been to charm school three times. I know the rules of etiquette.  I've read all the famous books on the subject, but I don't remember a chapter on "What to say to the husband of the woman your husband was fucking for several years." The only thing I knew for sure was that when such a moment arrived, I was not going to let myself say "I'm sorry" as a reflex because I don't owe an apology for my husband's behavior. Ok, I might say "I'm sorry this happened to your family," but that's it.

I was two steps away, thinking I had made a clean getaway when I heard, "Excuse me, Kat...."  Damn. I turned around and raised my eyebrows, giving the nonverbal "what can I do for you?" signal. All I knew for sure at that moment was that speaking as little as possible was probably my best bet.

"Mrs. M told me what happened," he said. "With your husband, I mean."

Gee, I'm glad you clarified that, I thought.

"Oh. Okay," I said.  So far, the 'woman of few words' plan was working well.

"Are they still.....involved?" he asked.

"I don't think so," I answered,"but I really don't know." I tried to turn and walk again, but then he said, "I didn't know, you know.  I had no clue. Did you know?"

That's when I saw the pain on his face, in his eyes.  My heart broke for him. Damn, I thought. There's no clean getaway here.

"No, I didn't know. I didn't have a clue, either.  In fact, a couple of friends of mine asked me if I thought he was fooling around and I swore that I was sure he wasn't, so that shows you what I know. It wasn't just you."

He asked me to sit with him on the nearby bus bench and talk, and I agreed.  I'm not sure why I agreed.  I felt badly for him. I felt like I owed him some time, although I don't know why. He told me what he knew about it and he asked questions.  He was unaware that his wife wasn't the only one.  He was unaware that to Hubby it was not an emotional affair at all, that it was only sex. He was unaware that they did their fucking in my bed. He was unaware that his wife had taken money for her "services."  I was unaware that sometimes her child was with her, sitting on the couch in my living room while mommy and her friend played in the back room.  I was unaware that to his wife it was most definitely an emotional affair and she thought she was in love with my Hubby. I was unaware that Mr. and Mrs. M were struggling to keep their marriage together and it didn't look like they were going to make it.

Thirty minutes later, I think we both felt like we'd been put through an emotional wringer. I couldn't believe that I had been afraid of an attack.  This man wasn't on the offensive at all.  He was simply trying to make sense of it all and keep his family together. He was broken.

He asked, "Have you ever thought of cheating, too?"

I hadn't lied yet.  This was no time to start, but I kept my answer simple.


"Me, too," he said, "but then I'd be just like her."

I smiled and said, "Only if you did it for money in my bed."  We both laughed.  He cocked his head a little and looked at me. I think he was trying to figure out if I was just trying to lighten the mood or if I was flirting. It was a little of both, to be honest.

We chatted a little more and then I told him I had to get back to work.  He asked if we could get together for lunch next week. I told him that I was busy at work and wasn't available, but then he asked about the following week.  As I agreed, I already knew that I'd probably cancel. Unlike my Hubby, I don't play with folks from town (Okay, there was Young One, but he was an exception - in several ways). I don't think that's what Mr. M had in mind, but it was a chance I didn't want to take.

We said goodbye and I continued my walk. I wanted to slap Hubby at that moment and tell him, "Look what you did to that man?!" But that would have been a bit hypocritical, wouldn't it? I was going to go home later and tell him about the encounter and ask him if he ever thought about Mr.M, the other husband.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Obey the Kitty....and Other Naughty Thoughts

I was just reading an email from a PWK reader who's going to be in San Francisco next week and wants to know if I'm free for a roll in the hay.  I know what you're thinking.  Kat, do you ever hook up with men who send proposals via email like that?

No comment.

But that's not the point. To the right of his email was the standard column of Google ads and one of them said, "Obey the Kitty."  Meow.  Now, that caught my attention. The ad didn't give much information to tell me what it was about, and I didn't want to click on it (I was just lazy), so I guess I'll never know, but it did get me thinking.

Obey the Kitty.

There's another reader who communicates with me regularly who has taken to calling me Kitten, which is unusual because most people don't call me Kitten. Kat, Kitty, Baby are common.  Cunt, whore, and bitch come up, too, mostly from the guys I block and the ones I report to the police. Whenever I see a message start with "Kitten....." it kind of warms my heart. Maybe it's because I think of kittens as small, fragile, and vulnerable and I am most definitely not those things. Maybe I like being thought of as someone who needs to be cared for, someone who needs a strong man to watch over her.  I've always related to that song Someone to Watch Over Me.  The Sarah Vaughn version is my favorite.

There's another reader who emails me just about every day hoping for a naughty cyber exchange. I responded this morning with my typical, "Hope you have a good day," and he replied with, "I was hoping for my Mistress to tell me what to do...."

Obey the Kitty.

Let's be clear.  For the most part, I'm a sub. shackledkat with a small s. Nothing turns me on like a man taking charge in the bedroom and taking what he wants.  Nothing. If you read through the naughty stories here on the Sex, Sex, Only Sex page, you'll see my hunger for being dominated played out again and again. But every now and then I get the itch to be holding the riding crop and imposing a little sexual torture on an undeserving sub (either male or female).

About ten years ago, I played through variations of a scenario with a phone sex buddy in which he was tied up standing, ropes pulled tight, making him stand on his tippy toes. There were ropes around his ankles and his legs were pulled apart. I teased him as he stood there, spread eagled, sucking his cock until he was close to climax.  Then stopping.  Whipping his ass with a short whip for a little while. Then stopping. Eventually, I'd stroke his cock and whip him at the same time, telling him to stand perfectly still and enjoying his struggle to be still in spite of wanting to thrust forward away from the pain and toward the pleasure.

Obey the Kitty.

He'd be punished if he made a sound.  He'd be punished if he didn't respond appropriately. He'd be punished sometimes just because I knew it turned him on. Sometimes he'd be punished because it turned me on. Was there any better reason, anyway?

As time went on, the fantasy evolved to include some light cock and ball torture and other fun stuff.  He was very obedient and he learned that he was even more submissive than he thought. I explored my sadistic side and learned that I'm more dominant - sometimes - than I thought. Our fantasy world ended when the phone sex just wasn't doing it for him anymore and he wanted to get together to play in person. I refused (I was on a fidelity streak at the time). Relationship over.

I have to admit that just telling that story without any of he details made my pussy twitch and my nipples harden.  Dang. Where's my sweetie when I need him?

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

What He Came For

He arrived in the middle of the night after driving several hours. It was 2:30 in the morning and I had to be out of there by 7:00 and I still hadn't slept. All-nighters were common when my kids were little (and I was young) and when I was in college (even younger), but staying up all night and working the next day did not sound like fun to me as a middle-aged full grown woman.

Except for that night.

Except for JJ.

The lateness of the hour was my fault.  He wanted to meet me much earlier in the evening but it was such a long drive for him that I didn't want to inconvenience him and, frankly, I thought he was just offering to be nice. But then as the night wore on he was still asking, and then his requests turned to, "I'm leaving now."

It was a rare occasion.  I was traveling for work and he was out of town for the night, too. When he said he was leaving to make that long drive to come and see me, I was shocked. Of course I wanted to see him (have you ever known me not to want to see JJ?), but part of me couldn't believe that he would drive that far in the middle of the night (and back just a few hours later) just so he could spend some time with me.

I tried to remember the last night time anyone had gone out of their way for me like that. I couldn't remember.

I jumped into the shower and then crawled into bed to try to catch a little nap before he arrived. It took me a long time to fall asleep, but I managed.  I was awakened by the sound of my phone alerting me to a text message.  It was from JJ and it simply said, "I'm here."  I was groggy.  I wondered if that meant he was in town, in the parking lot, or in the lobby.  As I was trying to think that through, I replied "ok."  When I heard his phone ping right outside my door, I knew where "here" was.

I jumped up and ran my fingers through my hair as I moved toward the door.  I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I passed it. The lights stay off, I told myself, chuckling a little. JJ had seen my hair much messier than that on several occasions.  And why was I even thinking about my hair right now???

I opened the door and let him in. He immediately reached out for me and kissed me.  As I felt his hands on my back, his arms wrapped around me, and his cold clothes pressed against me, I realized that I was naked. That hadn't even occurred to me when I was in such a hurry to let him in.

He kissed me deeply and tenderly. I nudged him into the room while we were kissing until we got to the bed.  He sat down and I stood in front of him, still kissing him, tugging on his sweatshirt to pull it off.  As we undressed him quickly, he told me a bit about the trip.  I kept interrupting him with kisses.  Eventually he quit talking.

What happened over the next few hours is a blur. I remember that soon after he arrived I was on my hands and knees and he was fucking me hard from behind. I remember that feeling of both calm and excitement I felt when he first entered me. It was such a familiar feeling, but every time it seemed new.  We both came forcefully - no gentle rising of pleasure but an assault of sensation that seemed to burst inside us both.

We lay together and talked for awhile then we dozed off.  Well, I did. I have no doubt that he couldn't sleep much because of my snoring. But he did sleep a little.

The next thing I remember,  I was laying on my side and I felt his hand cock sliding between my legs from behind. I lifted my leg a little and arched my back to give him room, but I had no intention of fully waking yet. He slid inside my pussy for a few strokes before pulling out.  I lowered my leg and relaxed.  That's when I felt his cock pressing into my ass. I squealed and grabbed the edge of the bed.  He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me back to him, saying, "Shhhhh.....slow.  It's ok."

Of course it was ok. I was there with him. Everything was ok. He pulled my hip back toward him just a little, signaling me to press back against him. I did, very slowly, stopping once to catch my breath and let the pain subside. Then I pushed back all the way, taking his cock completely into my ass.  He moaned and kissed my neck. Then he began thrusting. Slowly. Deeply. Very gently at first and then with more and more force.  His arm was around me holding me tightly against him, reminding me how strong he was.

When he finished, he didn't move away. He stayed there holding me as his cock slowly receded and pulled out of my ass. I could tell by his breathing that he was dozing off again. I wanted to kiss him, but I didn't want to wake him.  I didn't want to ruin that moment of feeling completely his, used by him, held by him. I belonged to him at that moment.

Then I realized, that's what he came for.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

I Just Have to Share This

I was taking a few minutes to catch up on reading some friends' blogs this morning, and I came across some things that I just have to share with you.

This post from Mr. Dryden on Mindfully Sexual has some amazing photos. If you love beautiful naked women, you must check this one out.

The "Big Tease" award for the week (month? year?) goes to Ryan Beaumont, author of The Ashley Madison Adventures of a Regular Guy Gone Bad, for the ongoing saga about Sandee.  Will he ever get any? Is she just leading him on...and on...and on? Wait, maybe I should call this "The Most Patient Man of the Millennium Award." Anyway, in Love is the Drug and I Need to Score, he gets so, so close, but we're left with a cliffhanger.  Then, in Can You Take Me High Enough we finally get to the answer of the big question, "Will they or won't they?"

I really enjoyed Ponyboy's post, Drunk Sex, too.  Maybe I liked it because I had a lot of drunk sex when I was in college and it brought back some memories (or are they flashbacks?). But I just like his blog, Marriage in the Bedroom, a lot regardless of the particular post. He writes about married life - the good, the bad, and the ugly. The best part about it is that it's real. It's a great portrait of what early married life with young children is really like.

Naughty Kitty made me laugh with her re-post of Sex Candy Tester on her blog, My Secret Life. I've never tried Altoids as a sexual enhancement tool, but I just may give it a whirl now!

Take a trip through these fun posts this weekend.  I'm sure you'll enjoy them as much as I did.

Is there a blog or post that you really enjoy?  Tell us about it in the comments.  I'll take a look and it might appear in another of my sharing posts.  I love to share the love.  And yes, pimping your own blog is perfectly fine.

Friday, May 4, 2012

Mini-Golf Adventure

Last Saturday, I went out on a miniature golf adventure on Saturday with Hubby, my youngest son, Cara, and Beth. It was a gorgeous day and I thought it would be nice to get outside in the sun. As you know, I work a lot, so I don't get out much, and when I do "get out," I'm usually getting in bed.  Either way, there's not much sun involved.

So, we got to the mini-golf place, and all of us were dressed appropriately for mini-golf - except for Cara. I was wearing my lucky tennis shoes (and some other things, of course).  Hubby was wearing golf shorts and a golf shirt from an exclusive golf club in Florida - a clear attempt to try to intimidate the rest of us. (By the way, he took off the knee brace he has been wearing every day because he wanted to look young.) My son was wearing shorts and T-shirt.  Beth was wearing jeans and a casual blouse. We were all good to go.

Cara was wearing a strapless knee-length dress and 4" wedge sandals.


She was gorgeous, of course, with her long blonde hair and the hem of her dress blowing lightly in the breeze and the sun reflecting off her sunglasses and mini-golf putter as she leaned over to address the ball in her oh-so-sweet-girlie-girl way. 

I was watching my son, who wanted to run all over the place, and Hubby - just to make sure his knee didn't go out and force him to tumble down the windmill hill into the faux lake. Hubby was watching Cara, and I'm sure he was praying for wind and for the bodice of that strapless dress to slip just a little more.

I'm sorry I forgot to take a photo.  We could have used it for an HNT.

All that said, we really did have a great time. I hope we do it again soon.  Maybe Cara will wear hot pants and stilettos next time. ;-)

Thursday, May 3, 2012

The Eye Doctor Calls

Continued from The Eye Doctor....

I thoroughly enjoyed flirting and toying with Dream Doc as I was having my exam, but I didn't expect that he would really call, so I was a bit surprised when he did. Here's how the conversation went:

Dream Doc: Hello, is this Kat?

Kat: Yes. This is Kat.

Dream Doc: Hi! It's Doctor Eyes (not his real name, of course). I was hoping to catch you today.

(That's an interesting way to put it, isn't it?)

Kat: Well, you caught me.

(I know, I know.  It was stupid to say that, but I was still thinking, "Holy shit! He actually called!")

Dream Doc: How are you feeling?  Any residual effects from the dilation?

(Uh oh. My stupid response pushed him back. I'd better open the door for him again.)

Kat: I feel great! No residual effects at all, but I'm really troubled by that.

Dream Doc: Oh?  Why? No residual effects is typically a good thing.

Kat: I know, but I was hoping to have a reason to come back and visit you again.

(Ok, big boy.  The door is wide open.  What are you going to do with it?)

(There was a pause. I could almost hear him thinking.)

Dream Doc: Well, you don't need an eye problem to visit, you know. Would you like to get together for some coffee....or something?

(Good boy! Confident. Quick to the point.  My kind of guy.)

Kat: Sure, that would be great.  What works for you?

Dream Doc: How about tomorrow?

(Ugghh.  That's a problem.  I was meeting JJ for some playtime and then I had a scheduled meeting,)

Kat: Tomorrow is really tough, but I could have 30 minutes at 2:00 if we could meet at the Starbucks on Corner Drive in River City. Do you know where that is?

Dream Doc:  I sure do. I'll see you there tomorrow at 2:00.

Kat: Great! See you then!

The conversation ended, and it was immediately followed by an internal self-smack-down.

Kat, what the hell are you doing! You let a harmless little flirtation turn into something much bigger than it should be.  And you are seriously planning to leave playtime with JJ and go meet another guy for coffee? Really? Why? And you don't know for sure yet that he's married, and you don't see single men, but it doesn't matter because you're not hunting these days anyway! Call him.  Call him right now and tell him you can't. Get out of this before you get in over your head. Do not blow it with JJ. Quit being an idiot.

By the way, that could have been Daunt saying all those things to me.  He's usually the voice in my head when I'm being an idiot anyway.

I decided to call and cancel.  But I didn't - for no good reason.

Then time got away from me and it was "tomorrow."

Playtime with JJ was absolutely delicious.  Over the top amazing. Yes, I will write a post about it for y'all since I've been promising a sex post for a while.

Anyway, I was a little late leaving JJ because, well, you wouldn't want to leave that man a second earlier than you had to, either. ;-)

There was no way I was going to make it to Starbucks by 2:00.  I ended up being 20 minutes late, which meant that I'd only have ten minutes before I had to leave for my meeting.  That was good.  I had an excuse to say hi and leave. I thought, Maybe he left already. Maybe he thought I wasn't going to show so he just left.

No such luck. I saw him immediately when I walked in to Starbucks.  Damn. He had big smile on his face which made him even more attractive. This was going to be harder than I thought.

He gave me a hug to greet me. Mmmm...strong arms.

He said, "When I noticed you were late, I took the liberty of ordering something for you because I know you don't have much time."

So much for saying hi and leaving.  But what a nice thing for him to do.

"Oh?  What did you pick?" I replied.

"No, no.  I'm not going to tell you.  Take a sip and then tell me how I did."

Good approach, Dream Doc, even though it's also risky. You added a little mystery.  A conversation starter. You've done this before.

I took a slow sip. Peppermint Mocha, extra sweetener. How the heck did he know that's my current favorite? Impressive, but a little stalker-like too, don't you think?

"Ok. How did you know?" I asked with a suspicious smile.

"Just lucky, I guess," he said, smiling back.

I decided to sit down.  I wasn't planning on sitting.  Once you sit down you're committed to stay for a bit, probably longer than you want, but I was intrigued now.

We chatted for a few minutes.  He was charming, funny, smart - everything I like. There were sparks.  No, there were fireworks.

Soon it was time for me to go. I thanked him for the coffee and started to leave.  He offered to walk me to my car. We talked as we walked out, and when we got to my car, I turned to say goodbye and he reached for a hug so I reciprocated. That's when it happened.  The kiss. Deep, wet, perfect kiss.

I lingered longer than I should have, then I pulled away and said, "I'm really sorry, but I can't."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know you're married, but I thought...."

"Oh, this has nothing to with my husband, but there's someone else...and I can't..... I'm sorry for being such a flirt. That was wrong."

"It's ok. I get it," he said. "It was kinda fun. Still, it was very nice meeting you, and spending a little time with you.  Can I call again sometime? Maybe things will change...?"

I laughed. "You sure are tempting! But no, it's not going to change. At least I hope it doesn't."

I gave him another hug, said goodbye, got in my car, and drove away.

As I drove the few blocks to my meeting, I thought about Dream Doc, and Hubby, and JJ......Geez. I am such a fortunate woman. I've had some pretty amazing men in my life.

Then it hit me.  I'm going to need another eye exam in a year or so. ;-)

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

The Eye Doctor

I went to the eye doctor on Monday. I wear glasses and, like most folks in their 40's, my vision is changing.  I won't say the nasty "bifocal" word, but I'll just say that my glasses needed an adjustment. Anyway, when I got there, it wasn't my regular eye doctor. My regular eye doctor is a lovely young east Indian woman who speaks with a thick accent I can't understand, but she is very sweet, and I've learned that I apparently don't need to understand what she says.  I get my prescription in writing and I just smile and thank her for a lovely time.

This time, there was a new eye doctor. A man.  A tall man - about 6'4". A middle aged man - about 50-ish. A distinguished-looking man - salt and pepper hair. A nerdy man - wearing khakis and a sweater vest. A strong man - visible muscles on his forearms and biceps. Yes, Prowlers.  This eye doctor was my dream man.

Hubby had taken me to the eye doctor (I'm being monitored like a child, remember?) and he took one look at Dream Doc and asked if he could come into the exam room with me. Sheesh. I giggled and said no and he gave me the "look" as I was going in.  I waved goodbye to him as the door clicked shut behind us.

You know the "look" I mean, don't you?  It was his, "You sure as hell better be good" look. It's exactly the same look he gives our 8-year-old when we drop him off at a friend's house to play.

I forgot about his look as soon as the door closed, and I focused my attention on Dream Doc.  No ring.  No suntan line where a ring would be.  Damn. Of course, lots of married men don't wear rings.

I followed all of his instructions and was amazed at all the things he was saying and explaining to me.  Gee, if I had known it were that interesting, I would have helped my regular eye doc learn English faster. Wait, maybe it wasn't interesting at all.  Maybe I was just entranced by Dream Doc and his sexy voice.

I chit chatted with him and turned on the charm. We both laughed a few times and I knew that Hubby would be going crazy when he heard the laughter as he sat frustrated in the waiting room. Sweet.

The lights were off.  He was right next to me.  His leg was pressed against mine, and every time he leaned over to change a lens his arm brushed against me. I didn't remember an eye exam feeling this intimate before.

When I was growing up, there was a big scandal in my home town about an eye doctor who molested several of his female patients while they were in the exam room alone with him.  Apparently he touched their breasts, played with their hair, and so on.  At the time I was disgusted and outraged like everyone else. Right now, though, I was fantasizing about that kind of an eye exam from Dream Doc.

At one point he stopped and turned and looked at me. The poor guy was probably drowning in the  pheromones I was exuding. I looked right back at him, holding his gaze, not blinking. Then I licked my lips and bit my lower lip.

That did it. He turned around with his back to me and started talking, stammering, stuttering. Yes! I did the victory dance (on the inside, of course).  I 'd had my way with Dream Doc!

As I was walking to to the door to leave, he asked if there was a number where he could reach me. Sometimes he likes to check up on some of his patients a day or two later to make sure they didn't have any long term effects from the dilation. Yeah.  Right. I gave him my cell number, and said, "Thanks.  That would be great.  The last time I had some problems later and I didn't know what to do."

For the record, I don't think I have ever had a problem when I didn't know what to do, but I also know the damsel in distress act works just about every time.

When I walked out to the waiting room, Hubby gave me his other "look." This one was his, "I'd better not find out your were bad" look. And then he proceeded to talk to the doctor about my exam and my prescription. Again, as if I were a child. I didn't mind too much.  It just gave me more time to stare at Dream Doc.

Then Hubby actually asked him where my regular doctor was. Dream Doc explained that he was subbing for her, and that he was only at the clinic two days a week.  Then he looked straight at me as he said what too days those were and what hours he was usually there. I smiled.  Dream Doc smiled.  Hubby steamed.

On the way home, he grilled me about every single thing that happened and every single thing that was said.  I told him everything - except the part about giving him my number.  Why upset him for no reason?

This afternoon, the phone rang. I answered, and then I heard Dream Doc's voice say, "Hello, is this Kat?"

To be continued.......