I Love Men

Seriously. I love men.

I love men of all ages.

I love the way they look, the way they think, they way they smell, they way they sweat. I love their muscles and their strength and their swagger.

I love the look of a man in a suit, in a uniform, in jeans and a t-shirt, in nothing at all. I love the way most men are more comfortable with their bodies than women are with theirs. And I love the way that most men overlook flaws in a woman's body and see her as beautiful even when she refuses to see it herself.

I love the bravado of young men and the wisdom of older men, just as I love the sexual power of young men as much as the skilled lovemaking of older men.

I love men who are sensitive and courageous enough to cry in front of others and men who would die before they would shed a tear in public. I love outgoing men and introverted men and I can appreciate how confidence shows itself in both types.

I love men who know how to dominate a woman in bed without really hurting her and while still respecting her.

I love how it's pretty easy to know what a man wants and how grateful most men are when they get it.

I love the sound of a man's voice whispering in my ear, and the sound of a man laughing.  I also love the sound of a man moaning with pleasure and begging for more. And then I love it when he just takes what he wants.

I love the feel of a man's arms around me and the feel of his cock inside me. I love the taste of his kiss, the warm breeze of his breath on my neck, the passion in his eyes when he's gazing into mine.

I love the process of discovering a man - his strengths, his fears, his uniqueness. I love how no two men are alike.  Each has some characteristic or ability that leaves me in awe and grateful that I met him.

I love intellectual men and active men, men of faith and men of the world, family men and single men.

Seriously. I love men.

Offensive or Hot?

This cover of Vogue is getting a lot of attention. Women's advocacy groups around the world, including the National Organization for Women in the U.S., are arguing that the cover photo sexualizes and glamorizes domestic violence and rape.

Huh?  I just don't see it.

Okay, I don't get why the guy is apparently sucking on his own finger, but that is beside the point.

What I see is a very hot depiction of consensual sexual domination.

Let me be clear.  I am not an advocate of domestic violence or rape in any way. I can say from first hand experience that there is nothing sexy about rape and there is nothing erotic about domestic violence.

That's not what this photo is showing. It's obvious because there is no sense of fear in this photo. No look of fear on her face, no panic in her eyes.

Just as some of those women's groups are upset at what they perceive as the sexualization of domestic violence, I am deeply offended by their efforts to pervert sexual domination and submission into something violent and dirty. It's not. They fact that they can't see that this photo is obviously not about violence is also disturbing.

I'm not being facetious when I say that I suspect they have been so sheltered, sexually speaking, that they cannot even understand what a full, passionate, exciting, varied, and invigorating sex life can be. To them, anything that's not plain vanilla is evil and an affront to women. They are so uneducated, deprived or intolerant that even french vanilla (which is all this photo is, really) is scary for them.

What's next? Are we getting to the point where if a man even touches a woman  somewhere other than her hand without her screaming, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" that it will be considered a sexual assault? Needless to say, I think it's going too far.

The women's movement is all about allowing women to have choices. That also means that women should have the right to choose to be sexually dominated by a man without the implication that she must have a psychological issue deeply rooted in a troubled childhood. And it means that the man she chooses to engage with sexually in that regard is not a rapist.  Oh yeah, and he's not a psycho for liking it, either.

Unfortunately for the prudes of the world, they can no longer say that women (and men) who enjoy BDSM to any degree are a kinky fringe minority with a sick sense of sexuality.  Fifty Shades of Grey debunked that myth. Millions of people are either into it or turned on by it and want to try it. Millions of people don't see it as rape or domestic violence. Because it's not.

The range of "perfectly normal" in human sexuality is broad. We're just learning that some of what we used to think was really kinky and unusual is actually much more common and, yes, normal.

I'm not a pervert for wishing I were the woman in that photo (but I'd pick a different guy) or for loving a good, hard, hair-pulling, ass-slapping, gagged fuck. The people who try to make me and millions of others feel dirty for liking it - they are the perverts.

Your thoughts?

Freshly Fucked and Fisted (continued)

(This is a continuation of Freshly Fucked and Fisted. If you haven't read that post yet, that's the place to start.)

After a few minutes, JJ said, "Roll over."  As I did, I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the lube and handed it to him, just in case, even though there were plenty of sexual juices flowing all over the place down there, both his and mine.

He pressed his cock into my ass and stopped, waiting for me to push back against him, our signal that I was ok and I was ready for him to do whatever he wanted. He took a few slow strokes and then he stopped halfway.  I looked back and saw that he had grabbed the phone again and he was snapping another picture. Then another.  I suggested that he just take a video, but he made some comment about the lighting not working well for a video.

I started making a snide comment about the the shortcomings of the iPhone camera compared to the camera on my Android phone, but before I could finish, he slammed his cock into me and started pounding me hard. I grabbed onto the edge of the bed with one hand and supported myself by pushing against the headboard with the other.  It took nearly all my strength to keep myself from being shoved into the wall in front of us.

Without warning, he slapped my ass - HARD. I squealed and winced, which is exactly what he wanted because when I winced, I tightened around him even more. Just as the sting was beginning to subside, he slapped me again, this time on the other side. I winced and squealed again and held on tighter.

Time for a little encouragement.

"That's it, Baby, fuck my ass harder, " I said breathlessly.  "Fuck me hard, like you want to.  Fuck your whore."

That did it. The pounding slowed and he pulled me back onto him for a few more deep, slow thrusts. I heard him groan. I took a deep breath and smiled. I don't think I'll ever get over how good it feels when he fucks my ass.

He pulled out and fell next to me again. He reached for the camera and showed me the photos he took. My, my, my! So that's what it looks like from his angle when his cock is in my ass.  No wonder he likes it so much. Then I was a little bit jealous because I just get to feel it, but he gets to feel it and see it. Oh well, that's life, I suppose.

We chatted some more and watched the clock so we didn't stay beyond the time when I'd have to leave so I could get back to work as expected. We kissed. We laughed. As the minutes clicked by I felt that old feeling of sadness I always get when our time is just about up. It would be a couple of weeks before I could see him again, maybe more.

We got up, cleaned up, got dressed and left together. I dropped the room key on the front desk as I said goodbye to Strange Hotel Guy who also said goodbye as he flashed that creepy "I know what you've been doing" smile of his. The joke's on him, though, because I really don't care that he knows.

JJ kissed me goodbye in the parking lot before we both got into our cars and headed in opposite directions.

It was a few minutes later, as I was driving, that I got the text from Seattle Guy asking, "How was your early afternoon?"

You know how I answered.

Freshly Fucked and Fisted

"I'm great! Fantastic. Freshly fucked and fisted." That was my reply to Seattle Guy when he asked, via text, how I was after my time with JJ.

I got to the hotel first and acquired the room with Strange Hotel Guy's wife and paying with the $100 bill  I weaseled our of Hubby the night before.

When I got to the room, I was glad I got there a little earlier than JJ because it gave me time to clean up a bit and relax. I had just come from a pretty intense work meeting and I needed a few minutes to unwind. I took off my panties and starting playing with my clit, not in a focused way, but almost absentmindedly, as if to make sure my body was fully alert and ready for his arrival.

I got a text saying he was close. Then another saying he was just stopped and got a speeding ticket. Ugghh! My first thought was about how he could explain to his wife how he got a speeding ticket nowhere near where he was supposed to be today. This is one of those "cheater's nightmares," right up there with being seen with your lover by one of your spouse's friends at a restaurant. Someone in my town was having lunch with his mistress at a local restaurant and his photo appeared on the front page of the local paper. No, he wasn't the subject of the photo; the restaurant owner was.  But it didn't matter because the whole town saw him in the background of the picture kissing a woman who was not his wife. Ouch.

My mom used to say, "Never do anything that you wouldn't want to be posted on the front page of the paper." Generally speaking, that's very good advice. I'm sure that guy wished he had taken it. As for me, it makes me giggle to think of seeing a picture of myself giving someone head or a picture of me being fucked from behind on the front page of the paper....until I think of how it would hurt my family. Then it's not so funny anymore.

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

Of course, by the time JJ showed up, he already had a plan for what he would tell his wife and it was a perfectly plausible explanation. He's a smart man. And you know how I love smart men.

JJ climbed into bed and kissed me, and the next thing I knew he was fucking me from behind, nice and hard like he does. I know there was some kissing and petting before that, but I had been waiting a long time and I was ready. Very ready. Sex at home had started becoming less frequent (again) so I had a pretty pointed physical urge burning along with the emotional one making me want to connect with JJ again. Feeling him inside me again felt like water quenching a hot, dry thirst. The way my body responded to him is indescribable.

For some reason, this reminded me of the movie Sommersby. In the movie, Richard Gere's character is being tried for murder and Jodie Foster's character is trying to convince the judge that he is not really her husband and, therefore, not the person who committed the murder for which he was on trial. One of the things she says is, "A woman knows her own husband," referring to how a woman gets to know her own husband in the personal and private way and how she would know if another man in her bed was not her husband.

I agree completely. I've been with a few men in my life (ok, ok, stop laughing guys....I use the word "few" very liberally) and I can tell you in absolute certainty that each and every one is different. Even if a guy were trying to mimic another man in bed, I don't think it can be done, at least not if the woman is paying any attention at all.

So, yes, JJ is unique, but he's not just different. He's amazing. Maybe it's the way we fit together. Maybe it's the emotion that makes it all better. Maybe it's a year and a half of getting to know each other very well.

Back to the story....

I loved the way he pulled me back onto him as he came, digging his fingers into my hips. After, he collapsed next to me and he just lay there talking. I noticed that he had pulled off his shirt and was now naked. My dress was hiked up around my waist. Sometimes, taking off clothes just slows things down too much. Don't you agree?

JJ and didn't talk much between our "meetings" so this was the time to catch up with what was going on with each of us and our families.

Eventually, his hand wandered down between my legs and starting rubbing me. I was distracted. I couldn't speak anymore. Neither of us was rushed anymore. His hand moved slowly, deliberately. We kissed deeply as he slid a finger inside me, then another. Then I got too distracted to kiss, too. I was completely focused on the sensations "down there."

He shifted a bit in the bed and continued to work me with his fingers and his hand for I don't know how long. From my end, it felt like slow, steady waves of pleasure - not like the hard, jolting orgasm that I'd just had a little while before. This was that kind of orgasm where it started, and then the pleasure kept building and building, but not going over the edge. I was stretched and stroked and teased. I started to wonder if this was the longest orgasm I'd ever had, but he kept pulling my focus back to him and the pleasure that he was both giving and forcing on me. It was one of those moments where I would have done just about anything he wanted. It's hard to describe to someone who has never experienced being so physically and mentally possessed by someone. And if you have experienced it, you know it can't be adequately described.

As I write this, I remember someone asking me why I was still with JJ when he doesn't communicate as much in between meetings as I'd like. I didn't have a great answer. Intellectually, I  had asked myself the same question more than a few times. But this moment is why. Well, it's one of the reasons. There are plenty of men I could fuck, but I couldn't replace that moment, that feeling, that emotion. I couldn't replace him. And so far in my life, no one else has been able to give me an experience like this one.

Anyway....back to the story...again....

When my orgasm finally flowed over the edge and shook the last bit of energy out of me, I reached down and felt for him. Just as I expected, his whole fist was inside me and I was holding his wrist. I smiled.

He asked, "Do you wanna see?"

"Yes!" I answered. The last time we were together, I asked him to take some photos of me from behind as I was on all fours. I had never seen my pussy from that angle and I wanted to see what he saw. It was kind of fun.

He reached over and grabbed his phone so he could take a picture, which he did expertly with only one hand. He didn't have to tell me not to move because it's not easy to move when a man like JJ with big hands has his fist up inside you. He showed me the picture. I loved it!

I lay back and he s-l-o-w-l-y pulled his hand out. It seemed to take a long time. I held my breath. It's official. The "coming out" phase of fisting is not nearly as much fun as the "going in" phase. It's not bad, mind you, but it just feels weird. Let me put it this way - if a woman feels a big lumpy thing coming out of that space, it's supposed to be an infant and thinking of babies and fisting pleasure at the same time is just...wrong. It's conflicting. I hate the thoughts. Something had better distract me quickly....

Then he slid a finger down and around my asshole....then inside (perfect distraction, thank god). I could tell he was gently stretching me, preparing me for his favorite thing to do in bed.

To be continued.....

Going Back for More

I ran into C last night at a community meeting.  I'm referring to C from Afternoon Fun in a Honda Civic. I'd tell you what kind of meeting it was, but I've been told recently that I've been giving too many details about my life and that eventually anyone who knew me would be able to identify me easily by my posts. Trust me, if you knew what kind of meeting this was, this story would go from cute to hilarious, but alas, I must show some restraint.

Anyway......

C lives in the town next to mine. We don't see each other as a matter of course, even though we live fairly close to each other. The fact that we would run into each other at a community meeting is unusual, but I suspected I might see him there since he's involved in the activity that was the topic of the meeting.

Before I go into what happened, let me review who C is. I met him on AM. He has many great features, but the ones that grab you after the first impression are his intelligence, his crazy sense of humor, and his smile. Once you get to know him better, you learn that he's an amazing kisser and a very sensual lover. He has strong shoulders and hands, and arms that make you feel like you're in the safest place on earth when they are wrapped around you. He's an active community member and a great dad - in short, everything about this man is attractive to me.

Well, almost everything. He has a very difficult time getting away to play, and he's monitored so closely by his wife that having an affair with him is nearly impossible. That's what got in the way with us before. There are some men I can take or leave, but I just couldn't take the "so close, but oh so far" thing from a man like C. It's like dangling a very special toy in front of child, but never letting her have it.

But with this meeting coming up, I'd been thinking about C a lot. Would he remember me? I hadn't seen him for well over a year, almost two. If he remembered me, would he talk to me or pretend he didn't know me?  Would he be glad to see me? Would I be able to stay cool or would I attack him in the parking lot after the meeting?

I got to the meeting a few minutes early. I didn't know anyone there and the friend who was supposed to go with me called and cancelled while I was on my way, so I was on my own. I remember walking in and meeting an older woman, and being greeted by several others before the meeting started. I was nervous. I was nervous because I didn't know anyone there and I was nervous about potentially seeing C again.

Here's where it get's weird.  C says that he greeted me when I came in and that I said "Hi" and then turned to talk with someone else.  I don't remember that at all.  In fact, the first time I remember seeing him was during the meeting.  I turned around and saw him and my my breath caught in my throat for a moment. I turned and faced straight ahead again, and I could feel my heart beating hard and fast. I felt flush. Then my clit twitched.

I forced myself to try to pay attention, but it was pointless. I tried to take some notes to focus myself, but that didn't work.  I tried to not turn and look at him again, but I had to. I stole a few quick glances, feeling like a school girl. He had more facial hair than I remembered, but those eyes were the same. I wished I could see him smile, but not much in this meeting was going to cause a smile, so that was unlikely.

There was a break for people to head to a break-out session and I knew that was my chance.  I moved slowly and watched him, then wandered over by him, hoping to catch his eye.  He finally looked at me and said hi.  No smile.  I smiled at said hi, too.  He turned back to the person he was talking to.

Oh geez, I thought.  I'm such an idiot!  That was the clearest "I don't want to know you here" message he could have sent.

I moved quickly to where my group was sitting at the other end of the room, sat down, and tried to focus. Every now and then I glanced over to see him talking with someone. One of the times I looked over, I saw him walk out the door, leaving the meeting.

I won't lie.  I was very disappointed. I had hoped that there'd be a connection between us again.  Then I thought that maybe he'd wait for me in the parking lot, but after the meeting I looked for his car when I walked to mine and it wasn't there.

Then it hit me. Oh my god! I'm going to be seeing him at these meetings every month for the next year! And I wondered how I'd handle pretending I didn't know him and being ignored by someone whose dick had been in my mouth more than a couple times and who used to kiss me like I was the sexiest thing in his world.

Yeah, I was sad as I drove home.  It was hard to act perky when Hubby asked me all sorts of questions about the meeting.

Then, this morning I got to work and an IM danced onto my screen. It was him! That's when I learned that he was acting cool, almost cold, because that's how I acted when I first entered the room. The only problem is that I wasn't acting.  I was so nervous that I wasn't my typical warm and lovable self.

We chatted on and off all day.  He kept me laughing most of the day, reminding me of what I liked so much about him.  As the day wore on, I wanted him more and more. He talked about coming over for 30 minutes or so to chat and...????

I wondered, Can two people pick up again where they left off after many months have passed?

This lifestyle isn't easy. And it can be very confusing. Throughout the day, I had received several text messages from Rotary Guy (all went unanswered), Seattle Guy (if only he lived closer), and Somewhere Man (a dear friend...and it's also too bad he's not close enough for some "benefits"). Nothing at all from JJ.

But what my body is telling me right now isn't confusing at all. In fact, it's very clear. It is glad C is back in the picture. It wants to go back for more.

Back to School - September Sex Blog Chain

I know.  I should be punished.  If you're wondering why, you don't know me very well, do you? Hehehe.

Seriously, I was was supposed to have the September Sex Blog Chain post up on Monday, and here it is Friday. I have no good excuse except that my work and home life has just been busier than I can manage this week.  I'm hoping to get a handle on things soon.

But I subscribe to the "better late than never" philosophy, so here you go.....

The topic for this month is Back to School or The One that Got Away.

We'll start with SameSassyGirl and her post about her high school reunion. When I read it, it brought back all the fun feelings related to getting my flirt on.  Very nice, and guaranteed to make you smile.

Ryan Beaumont shared his story of "the one that got away" and combines it with a school story, although it's not technically a back-to-school story.  He's rebel, isn't he? In Good Morning Little School Girl, Can I Come Home with You?, he thoroughly enjoys young Bethany's special talents. You will, too.

Advizor also shared a post with us about his "one that got away." My heart ached for him as I read the story, and I saw much of myself in it.  It's amazing how we are all more alike than different in some respects, isn't it?

Naughty Kitty wrote about a rendezvous with Auditor Guy for her entry, Slumber Party. Before I comment on the post, I have to admit something.  Sometimes I have a hard time reading Kitty's blog because I get stuck staring at that seriously hot picture just below the blog title bar. I actually have to make myself move on sometimes.  I know. I'm weak. As for Auditor Guy....what a gentleman to leave before the kids get up.

Max, from Thoughts of a Mystic Satyr, contributed College Memory, a story about a special evening with his Catholic college girlfriend. While completely different, this story reminded me of Advizor's because of how it glowed with nostalgia. A beautiful memory. A beautiful story.

What Changed Me from a Complete Beta, by Ponyboy, is an interesting piece reflecting on how a relationship with an old girlfriend changed him - for the better, of course.

As for me, my "one that got away" story is My First Fuck Buddy.  I still miss him.

If I missed anyone's story, I am so, so sorry! Please forgive me, and re-send your link. I'll post it ASAP.

As for the rest of you, check out these bloggers and their great blogs. Follow them, subscribe and enjoy!

Now, back to my punishment for being so late with this post.....

Any ideas?

More importantly, any volunteers?

Hair Pulling Sex God

I wasn't really in the mood for sex, but I wanted it anyway.  Wait, that's not entirely true.  I'm just about always in the mood for sex, but last night I wasn't feeling an urgent need.  I was just feeling that gnawing undercurrent of craving that I live with all the time. I was really into the idea a few hours earlier before Hubby started telling me who my friends should be.

Seriously, we were having a discussion about Daunt and Hubby started talking about who I should, and shouldn't, have as friends. He even named some women at church that he thought I should befriend.  I found it interesting that he left out all the women he screwed over the last five years, and I thought I'd really have something in common with them. 

But I kept my mouth shut and let him talk. However, on the inside I was saying, "Gee, Honey, in this century women are allowed to pick their own friends.  And, by the way, we get to vote now, too!"  I knew I was getting catty so I just let conversation die.

At bedtime, it was clear that Hubby was not going to initiate anything, so it was up to me to make it happen or go to bed frustrated - again.

I took my shower and went to bed, pulling the covers all the way back so I was laying naked on top of the sheet. Then I reached into the drawer next to the bed and pulled out Sparticus and put it on the bed next to me. I waited. 

Then I texted him and told him to come to bed. And I waited.

Eventually, he wandered into the room and a smile swept across his face as he saw me.

"It's about time," I said. "What does a girl have to do to get a good fucking around here?"

He said, "Exactly what you're doing. But give me a minute. I want put the trash cans out first."

Wow. I guess the trash couldn't wait for 30 minutes. To be fair, I know that Hubby is totally oblivious to the effect that it has on me when he says things like that. If I thought it was on purpose, that would be one thing, but this is just who he is. It really makes me wonder how he convinced me to marry him way back when I would not have ignored comments like that.

Anyway, he came back in about 5 minutes, and climbed into bed.  I asked him if he would mind at least washing his hands since he had just handled the trash. He grudgingly agreed.

When he came back to bed, I was ready.  No, I was more than ready. I had spend the majority of the time I was waiting thinking about JJ, and what he would be doing in this situation. I am 100% sure that he would say that the trash could wait.

Hubby grabbed the lube from the nightstand.  I told him, "You're not going to need that."

"Oh?" he replied as he reached down between my legs and slid a finger inside me.

"Oh! I guess we don't need this," he said, tossing the bottle of lube aside. "You should have told me you were this ready.  I would have put off taking out the trash."

Oh no, I thought. Don't even go there.  Did you really just say that???

I decided to ignore the comment. I grabbed Sparticus and put it in his hand. We were back on track quickly. He slid the large shaft inside me slowly and turned it on. I gasped. It felt better than I was expecting. Then he turned on the little vibrator and pressed it against my clit. An intense jolt of pleasure shot up my back and I squealed a bit. Hubby chuckled and turned the vibrator down just a bit.  Ah.....perfect.

I closed my eyes and remembered the last time I was alone with JJ. We stood kissing for a long time as he slowly undressed me. I sat on the edge of the bed and took off his shorts and sucked on his cock for awhile. His cock was beautiful. Hard, glistening, dripping with precum, delicious. He leaned me back on the bed, pulled my legs up and entered me. I felt that same amazing sensation I felt every time he entered me. I looked up at him and watched his face as he fucked me. I remember thinking that I'd freeze that moment in time if I could. I'd have to settle for burning it forever into my brain. It didn't take me long to come. He came soon after and seeing the look on his face as he came gave me another kind of pleasure.

I held that thought as I took the little vibrator from Hubby's hand and started holding it myself.  He kept working the big shaft of Spartacus and he leaned over and began sucking on one of my nipples. Three seconds later I was coming hard - moaning, shaking.

A minute or so later, he pulled Spartacus out of me and tossed it aside. He got up on his knees on the bed with his cock erect and jerking a little. I knew what that meant.  I rolled over onto my side and up onto my elbow and took him into my mouth. I started sucking him slowly, but very deeply, taking him in as far as I could.  Every third stroke I'd hold for a beat or two with the head of his cock in my throat. He moaned. That was exactly the response I was going for. 

He got harder and I could tell that he was going to come soon.  Just as I was getting ready to make that happen, he tapped my shoulder twice. That's our sign for "Stop now. I want to do something else." I have no idea how that signal came to be for us, but it's very clear. The shoulder tap means "stop immediately," so I did, and I looked up at him. 

He said, "I want you from behind."  I smiled.  My favorite.

As I positioned myself, my mind flashed again to the last time I was with JJ. In that room, there was a mirrored wall at the head of the bed, so I could watch him move behind me and I could watch him fuck me as much as I wanted. I pushed back the emotion I was feeling about him right then. I missed him.

But there was no mirror here.  That's not the only thing that was different. Hubby is not as thick as JJ, but he's a shade longer, so the cock inside me felt completely different - amazingly good, but different. Also, JJ pounds me hard and fast, which I absolutely love; Hubby is slow and deliberate, usually making me do most of the work. So there was no fantasizing about JJ at this point. That was clearly not him behind me.

I wanted to come again.  I tried to.  I moved a little faster.  Hubby slowed me down. I tilted my hips so I could feel his cock in just the right spot. Hubby grabbed my hips and re-positioned me. Bummer. 

He came quickly.  I couldn't see him, but I could hear the satisfaction in his voice as he moaned loudly while he released into me.

He held there for a while.  I remained still, giving him all the time he wanted to feel it. Then he reached forward and gently tugged on the hair on the back of my head, and we both burst into laughter.

When Hubby first learned about my cheating, we had many long talks about what was missing in our sex life. One of the things I shared with him was that I loved having my hair pulled. We talked about it at length.  He tried a few times, but it was a feeble attempt. In fact, it made me laugh more than it turned me on. Sometimes he'd pull it after I had already come. It was clear he wasn't into it and he just wouldn't pull hard enough.  The problem is that he can't bring himself to hurt me physically - even if I want him to. So, what started out as him trying to do something different sexually, something that I enjoy, turned into a joke between us.

He pulled out of me slowly. I rolled over. He leaned over and kissed me and said, "I love you, more than you'll ever know."

I replied, "I love you, too, you hair pulling sex god."

His face lit up and he wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. I snuggled against him, really glad that he had taken the trash out earlier so he didn't have to get up now. This was a moment to burn into my brain and remember forever.

To Shave or Not To Shave?

I found a few grey hairs today.  Not on my head, but down there. I plucked them immediately, of course. That made me think, though, that if I keep plucking grey hairs as they show up, eventually I'll have no hair left, or maybe I should just shave.

The reason I don't shave my private area is that my husband doesn't want me to.  It used to be that hairy was his preference.  However, since I learned about his years of cheating it has come out that he really prefers shaved but he knows that most men do and he doesn't want me to be attractive to other men. Huh? It makes no sense.  Other men like awesome blow jobs, too.  Should I give you lousy BJs like most wives give their husbands just so you'll feel secure? Ok, I though there's a difference, but it's still weird.

If you're thinking, "Kat, it's your body.  Shave if you want to shave," please don't go there. Those of you who have been in long term marriages know that some things are worth fighting for and some things are not. This falls in the "not worth it" category for me.

Besides, I hate shaving, in general. If I didn't have to shave to appear as an acceptably groomed person, I wouldn't. As it is, I shave my legs only if I absolutely have to - seeing my sweetie for a rendezvous, going to the doctor, wearing a skirt or shorts. This means that I have to shave a lot during the summer and less during the winter, which is great. I love winter.

Now that I've said I shave when I see my honey for a rendezvous, I have to admit that I haven't always done that. Sometimes I skip it. This isn't a secret because I'm sure he knows.  Surely he noticed the sandpaper-like scraping against his skin. I'd like to be able to make up some witty comment or incorporate the stubble into a BDSM-style torture ritual during sex, but it's pretty obvious that I just didn't shave.

That's bad enough, but if my woo-hoo were shaved and I let it go like I let my legs go sometimes, I would think that intercourse could be pretty painful, and I just don't think it would be nice to send him home to his wife with something resembling road rash on his face, his hand, and his pubic area. She might think something is up.

So, if I shaved down there, I'd have to be diligent about keeping it smoothly shaved. Uggh. One more thing to have to remember.

I know some of you may be thinking, "Oh come on, Kat, it's not that big a deal.  Not much to remember - you shave your legs, underarms, and pussy."

Au contraire, my obviously young friend. As time marches on and a woman reaches a certain more mature phase of her life, there are certain changes that they never tell you about as a young woman.  I think the goal is not to scare young women too much about getting older, but I really don't care.  So here's the truth.  Young women, while you will, indeed, become much sexier and more desirable as a sex partner (well, some of you will), you will also start to grow hair in places that will shock you. What will start as a random hair on your chin or upper lip will eventually seem like you are getting a full beard and mustache. At first, getting a waxing every couple of weeks will be fine. Then, you'll be plucking in between waxing appointments. Eventually, you'll be plucking and waxing every morning. It will take you longer than you expect. If you're lucky, it will stop there. If you're not, you'll be plucking hair from your breasts, too.

I know, this is a decidedly un-sexy topic, isn't it? But it's not an unimportant topic.

I laugh when I hear a man say, "I like a woman who is just natural."  I know he's saying that he prefers bush (or he's just saying that because he wants to fuck the unshaven woman he's chatting with at the moment). Someday, I will actually say out loud what I'm thinking when I hear that:

"I am pretty sure you don't like women who are 'natural.' That gal you're talking to spent at least an hour, probably two or three, to look as 'natural' as she looks right now. She has shaved her legs and her underarms. She has trimmed her pussy so she looks natural but not bushy. She has waxed her chin, lip, and eyebrows. If she's wearing open toed shoes, she may also have waxed her toes. If she naturally has a lot of hair on her arms and she's dark-haired, she may have bleached the hair on her arms so it's less noticeable. She may have bleached her teeth, too. Of, course, she carefully bathed and washed - everywhere. If she's anticipating the possibility of anal sex, she will even have cleaned in there. And all of that happened before she put on a stitch of clothing or a touch of makeup. So, Mr. I-Love-Natural-Women, it takes a lot of work for a woman to look like a 'natural' woman.  Unless you live in the far northern region of California or other parts of the northwestern U.S., I doubt that you have ever even met a fully 'natural' woman, let alone fucked one."

Whew.  Can you tell that I have some definite thoughts on this whole shaving and grooming subject? All the porno films and magazines show women who are shaved and look like pre-pubescent children "down there." Honestly, that's kind of creepy for me.  I'm not saying that I don't find it attractive.  I definitely do, just like most people.  That is what is so creepy.

I have definitely digressed....again.....

None of this solves the problem of my greying womanhood.

Maybe I'll just embrace my maturity and let it go grey, accepting it with grace.

Uh....right.

Until I can do that, I'll keep plucking.