Thursday, November 29, 2012

Laundry Day

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

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Santa Baby

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

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

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

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

Monday, November 26, 2012

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Peppermint Surprise

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peppermint lube!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Thanksgiving Vacation Sex

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Happy Thanksgiving, Hubby," I said.

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

I love him, too.  Very much.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

10 Tips for Three-Way Sex

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

A lot.

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

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

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

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

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

Monday, November 19, 2012

Let's Cut Mrs. Patraeus Some Slack

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

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

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


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

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

Other things to remember:

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

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

Ok, back to the story.....


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

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

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

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

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

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

Let's cut Mrs. Patraeus some slack.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Deep Inside of You

For the one I love....

Deep Inside of You 
Neil Diamond

Good morning
I love you
Now that you're here where you belong
I want to be the man you need

Just tell me you love me
Because I need to hear it, too
Just let me be the one
You carry deep inside of you

 I need you beside me
The road is so long
You run through my heart
Like the words of some bitter sweet song

 I'd travel the whole world
Across the earth
Around the sun
If I could be the one
You carry deep inside of you

Just let me be the one
You carry deep inside of you

Saturday, November 10, 2012

November Sex Blog Chain - Sex with a Public Figure

What better way to celebrate the U.S. presidential election than to talk about sex with politicians and public officials? I shared with you last January that Mitt Romney Turns Me On and what I thought Sex with the Presidential Candidates (at least the folks who were running at that time) would be like. But what about real sex with a public figure?

This month, our blogger friends took on the topic in several very creative ways.

Our friend, Ryan Beaumont, wrote a wonderful satire piece spoofing Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. Ashley Shrugged (a political thrilla in vanilla) is definitely worth reading.  You'll laugh and, if you're a fan of Ayn Rand, you'll enjoy it even more than most. Yes, it's not quite on topic, but who cares?  It's good.

In her post, I Came First, Same Sassy Girl tells us about her experience with Bill Clinton. Yes, you read that right - Bill Clinton.  You know you have to read that one.

Advizor shares a story, November - Snow Chains, about how a good Samaritan's efforts are rewarded after his rescue goes awry.  I don't want to spoil the surprise by telling you which politician the story is about,  but you'll love it.

My story about sex with a public figure is told in The Councilman. Yes, it really happened and, yes, it was hot. Again, I don't want to spoil it for you, but it involves a Catholic church, a barn, blood, and some cheese.  Oh yeah, and some very good sex.  Enjoy!

Be sure to add the bloggers who participated this month to the list of blogs you follow, if you haven't already done so.

Next month, our topic will be Holiday Sex and I expect many of our blogger friends to participate.  You won't want to miss it.

If you want to catch up on past Sex Blog Chain posts, visit the Sex Blog Chain page. You'll also find information about how to participate.

Friday, November 9, 2012

The Councilman

When we started chatting on AM, he told me his name was Joe. I had no reason not to believe him, even though it's pretty common for men to use a fake name to begin with.  Whatever.  We sent messages back and forth on AM for a few days and then we moved to email for a couple of weeks. He didn't seem to be in a hurry for a meeting, so I decided I could lay back, too, for awhile.

I thoroughly enjoyed our conversations and chats. He was smart and very funny. He didn't send any photos, but that didn't matter to me. The friendship that was developing was fun. Of course, he had seen photos of me, but I didn't think anything of it until one day my little chat window popped up and it was him.

"I hope you don't get mad at me, but I need to tell you something," he said.

"O.k., shoot," I replied.

After a pause, he wrote, "I know who you are."

At first I felt a bit nervous, but then I realized that I had already decided that he was a trustworthy guy. I was sure it would be fine.

"O.k.," I said. "How do you know me?"

He went on to explain that we hadn't really met, but he knew who I was and we knew a lot of the same people.  Then he told me how he knew me, and yes, he knew exactly who I was. For a moment I cringed thinking about how shocked he must have been to get that topless photo and realize, "Whoa! I know that woman!"

Then he said he wanted to get together.

"But don't I get to know who you are?" I asked.

"You'll know when you see me," he said.

Oh my god, I thought. Is this one of Hubby's friends? A client? A neighbor? UGH!!!

I tried to get more information out of him, but it was useless.  He wasn't going to share anything except in person. He wanted to meet at an out of the way place in the country, about 45 minutes away.

"Uh, no," I told him. "There's no way I'm meeting someone whose name I don't even know out in the middle of nowhere - alone. Sorry."

Then the negotiations began. I suggested a place. Too public.  He suggested a place.  Too isolated. He assured me that I would feel safe as soon as I saw him and recognized who he was.

"Sure," I said. "That's what all the ax murderers say."  He laughed.  That was good. We finally agreed to meet at a Catholic church near that isolated spot he had first suggested.  We'd meet in the church, which was open during the day.  There would likely be someone there, so we wouldn't talk. If, after I saw him, I felt safe, we'd leave separately and go meet at the place in the country. It felt so much like a 007 mission that I had to laugh.

I got to the church first and went in. I picked out a pew about four rows from the door, genuflected, crossed myself, and took a seat. No, the irony was not lost on me. Married Catholic gal meeting in a church in the presence of the Eucharist before, potentially, going to have sex with a married man - and blessing herself.  Note to self, I thought. Next time, don't pick a church.

Within a few minutes, I heard the door open behind me.  I didn't turn to look around because I wouldn't do that if I had just stopped in for a moment of prayer.  I waited. There were four other people in the church, spread out all over the place. Three were little old ladies.  One was a man, but I was certain he wasn't the man I was meeting because I didn't recognize him, and Joe (or whatever-his-name-was) told me I would know him when I saw him.

I listened to the footsteps as the person who came in the door behind me stepped into the church and started walking up the aisle.  I waited. Then I was nervous. I heard him step into the pew directly across the aisle from me and sit down. I slowly turned and looked.

As soon as I saw him I smiled and chuckled a bit, trying not to make any noise.  He was right.  I knew exactly who he was.  You don't meet city councilmen on AM every day. He looked a little sheepish and then raised his eyebrows and tilted his head toward the door as if to say, "Ok? Can we go now?" I nodded yes.  He left.  Then, about 10 minutes later, I left, too.

For the few of you who know me and know where I live, let me tell you that I'm not going to tell you which city this councilman served. And because I am very committed to protecting his privacy, I can't share with any of you his age or what he looked like. I haven't seen him for a long time (before I met JJ), but I told him I would take his secret to the grave with me, and I will.

When I got to the place we agreed to meet, he was already there. His car was parked behind the barn, just like he said it would be, and it was empty, so I figured he was in the barn. I parked and walked in. I saw him arranging some hay bales (my first clue that he was very strong) into what looked like a makeshift bed. I watched him for about 30 seconds and, after he had spread the blanket over the "bed," I said, "Hi, Joe."

He turned and smiled.  Then he said, "Do you see now why I was so reluctant to tell you."

"Well," I said. "There's reluctance and there's paranoia." I later would have the same conversation with webcam guy, but that's another story entirely.

He sat down on the hay bed and motioned for me to come over. As I sat down, he dragged and pushed another bale in front of us, opened a duffle bag he had with him, and spread out a table cloth. Then he pulled out some wine glasses and sparkling cider, and then some cheese, sliced apples, and grapes. Yeah, I can admit that I was impressed. This was nice. Definitely not a typical booty call.

We laughed and talked for about half an hour, enjoying each other's company and our little lunch. I was completely lost in the moment and having a great time, so even I was surprised that I was caught off guard when he took the glass out of my hand, set it on the ground, and leaned over to kiss me.

It was a perfect kiss. Truly perfect. He slid his hand up under my blouse and unhooked my bra easily.

I smiled into our kiss and said, "You've done this before."

"Once or twice," he answered, before silencing me with another kiss.

We undressed each other slowly, taking turns.  My blouse. His shirt. My pants. His.  My bra and panties. His shorts.

He leaned me back until I was laying down (FYI- even with a blanket, hay bales are hard and prickly) and then he climbed on top of me sliding his hands slowly all over my body as he kissed me, but avoiding the most sensitive places, the places that by then I really wanted him to touch.

Every now and then I'd open my eyes and think, "Holy shit! This is Councilman Joe. What the fuck am I doing?!?" But then he'd brush his hand across my pussy and kiss me harder and I'd get dizzy and forget about who he was.

Soon, he found my clit and started rubbing. I rocked my hips forward to press against his hand  but he grabbed my hair tight and looked into my eyes sternly. "Don't move," he said. I couldn't nod my head to indicate assent, but I had a feeling I wasn't supposed to say anything either, so I just stopped moving and waited.

He went back to work. It didn't take long for me to get very close to orgasm.  I'd start shaking and then he would stop and repeat that I was to be still.  Then he'd start again.  The third time he stopped, I growled, "If you want me to be still, quit doing that!" He yanked my hair again.  "That's the Kat I've heard about," he laughed, "Saucy, spirited, and a bit annoying."

While he was talking, without warning, he entered me roughly, fully in one stroke. I gasped and squealed a bit, but his mouth was on mine in a split second to muffle the noise. He pulled back from the kiss and hissed, "Quiet!"

I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him into me and he fucked me very, very hard and slowly.  He pulled back each stroke like a receding wave and then he thrust into me more forcefully each time. He turned his head away from my face, leaned over and bit my shoulder  - HARD! I was about to tell him to stop because he'd leave a mark, but I started to cum.  As I shook, he bit harder and that just turned me on more. I started bucking against him. He screamed when he came, which startled me a bit since he had seemed so obsessed with keeping me quiet, but there was no time to think about that. My orgasm started before his, lasted through his, and continued a few seconds beyond his.

When it was finished, he lifted his head and looked at me. "Oh my god!" I shouted.

His mouth and chin were covered with blood. He wiped at his mouth with his arm as we both turned and looked at my shoulder. "Jesus," he said. "I'm really sorry! Why didn't you stop me?!"

"Because I was coming,"I said, "and I liked it. And oh my god, how am I going to explain this?"

He grabbed a couple of napkins from the bag and pressed them on my shoulder, telling me to apply pressure. Then he pulled his pants on and left the barn. I stared up at the ceiling and noticed, for the first time, the beauty of the place.  Streaks of afternoon sunlight were peeking through the roof. It was very clean, but still quaint and rustic. I wondered how he knew of this place and if he had brought other women here.

My thoughts were interrupted when he came back in with a first aide kit. He cleaned the wound, put on a bandage, taped it securely. I handed him a napkin and told him he might want to clean the blood off his face.

"You look like a vampire," I told him.

He laughed and said, "I've been called worse."

"The next time someone tells me that your bark is worse than your bite," I said, "I'm going to tell them 'No, it's not!' "

We laughed again and he lay back down next to me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close.

"I mean it," he whispered. "I'm really sorry."

I snuggled a little closer and didn't say anything for a while.  I thought about how I would explain the wound on my shoulder that looked exactly like a human mouth. I came up with a plan...and then I felt a little better.

We relaxed and talked a while longer, but eventually it was time to go. We got dressed, cleaned up the picnic supplies, and put the hay bales back as they were before either of us had arrived. As I stood at the door and looked back as I was leaving, it didn't look like we had ever been there.

As we stood at my car, he asked when he'd see me again. I joked that I'd have to attend the next council meeting because there was some guy running around in the country biting women, and that had to be stopped.

"No, seriously," he said. There was that stern voice back again.

"You tell me," I answered.

"Next Tuesday, then. Noon?"


He kissed me quickly, a peck on my lips. He jogged around his car to the driver's side and then he looked back at me and said, "You bring lunch. And I'm going to taste other parts of you next time."

And Your Point Is......?


Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Only in ...... California?

You would think that a ballot measure requiring porn actors to wear condoms during vaginal and anal intercourse in films would have sprung from somewhere deep in the Bible belt of the South.

But no.

It came from Los Angeles. The city where I saw my very first porn film.The city where I gave my first XXX theater blow job. The city where I was first filmed having sex with a guy while I was drunk at some frat party (yes, there are Kat sex films out there; good luck finding them. I think they were shot on Super 8).

L.A.? Seriously????


Measure B, the "Safer Sex in the Adult Film Industry Act," passed yesterday, 56% to 44%.  The act mandates the use condoms in porn films and requires that porn producers apply for a permit from the public health department to shoot sex scenes. Of course, there will be inspections on the sets to validate compliance with the new law.

Proponents of the measure argued that they just wanted to keep people safe, and porn actors were setting a bad and unhealthy example by not wearing condoms.

Stop laughing!  This is serious.

I can imagine some of these people watching a porn film and thinking (maybe even saying), "Oh my God! Look away! Look away!  They are not wearing condoms!"

I take that back.  I can't imagine them watching a porn film. When I try, I throw up in my mouth a little.

The questions are flying through my head right now.  Did they expect to find good examples of public health in a porn film?

And where are all of the "leave my body the fuck alone" feminists and others out there who will fight government intrusion on their bodies to the death?  Governmental regulation of the female body is bad, but it's ok for the male body?

Are we seriously planning to start regulating the actual sex act now?

Do you truly believe that this will cause young men everywhere (well, at least the ones in L.A.) to start thinking, "Pass the condoms!  If they are good enough for John Horsehung, they're good enough for me! I don't care if I hate them. Safety first!"

What about porn actors who are allergic to latex and their religion prevents the use of lambskin condoms? Will they be discriminated against for employment because of their disability and religion?

Is public safety what this was really all about?

I don't think so.  I'm pretty sure that it was 1) an attempt by some nerdy bureaucrats to get to inspect porn sets regularly (how cool would that job be?), and 2) an attempt to make some money for the city through permit fees. Imagine it. A separate permit for every sex scene. That's a lot of permits. Thank God it wasn't a permit for every faked orgasm or every instance of bad acting.  That would have been tragic.

But wait..... none of this is going to happen.  Why? Because all the porn production companies have to do is move out of Los Angeles. Measure B only affects porn films shot within the county limits. That means they can take the massive amount of tax money they currently give to LA County and give it to another county in southern California.

Of course, they would rather not have to move (they already have their favorite Starbucks scoped out), so they are challenging the law in court. Implementation will likely be put on hold until the legal challenge is complete.

So rest easy, Prowlers, your favorite porn stars are still going bareback for now.


Read more about Measure B here.

Monday, November 5, 2012

Six Tips for the Care and Feeding of a Mistress

I have addressed this topic before but I'm feeling the need to tackle it again.

Getting the mistress is only part of the battle.  Unless you are looking for a series of one-time-fucks, you're going to have to take some action to keep the gal coming back.

In the beginning, it's fairly easy because it's new and exciting, but as time wears on it's going to take more than your gorgeous cock to keep her coming back. I know.  That's unbelievable, isn't it? How could a woman want anything more than the privilege of having wanton sex with you?

Let's assume for a moment that your cock is not enough. Here's what you need to do to keep your mistress happy.

1. Communicate - Communication is what forms that connection between the two of you.  If she doesn't feel connected to you when you're not together, she will not be as willing to make the time to get together. You found a way to communicate when the relationship was new.  You wrote lots of great emails to her or you texted her from time time telling her how much you wanted her. Then you got busy. Other things became important.  Fair enough.  Just realize that as soon as she starts to feel more like a booty call and less like a lover, your days are numbered. Also realize that she may have (probably has) an uncommunicative man at home.  Why would she want two?

2. Act Like You Care - This may be a stretch for some of you, but I think you can handle the challenge. You should be communicating so you know what's going on in her life.  Once you have done that, though, you need to act like you care. Ask questions. Offer comfort, if appropriate.  Most importantly, listen. Pay attention. Know her birthday are other important dates in her life. The special dates matter, but it's really caring about the events of everyday life that matters the most.  Let me give you an example of someone who did not follow this advice. I had been seeing someone for a very long time when I got some bad medical news.  I wanted to share it with him. I contacted him and told him I had received some bad news from the doctor.  He asked if I wanted to talk about it, and I said yes.  He said he'd call.  He didn't.  Not only didn't he call, but he didn't mention it again, didn't bring it up. But when he had time to get together for sex the following week, he was quite available and able to communicate about the arrangements. It may sound like a silly little thing, but it was very important thing in my life and his behavior said, "I don't really care." Now, there's really nothing wrong with that. It's totally fine if he doesn't care about my life or can't make the time to talk about it or whatever, but that's not the way to keep a mistress happy.  Period. I hear that version of "I don't care" as "I guess it's time to move on." And that is ok, too. It has to be.

3. Add Some Variety - You know how sex at home gets boring after a while?  Well, the same thing can happen in an ongoing extramarital relationship. Surprise her with different positions.  Try sometime new. Give her a massage. Try playing with some toys together. Find an unusual place to play. Keep it fresh.

4. Make It All About Her Sometimes - Remember how in the beginning you were so anxious to please her?  Part of that was because you wanted to know you still could have that effect on a woman and part of it was because you really wanted her to enjoy herself so she'd keep coming back. It's likely that you're not focusing as much attention on her as you used to. That's a normal by-product of familiarity, but it's not a good thing. Make a decision to focus entirely on her pleasure.  Don't worry.  She'll make sure you get yours.

5. Skip the Sex Once in a While - I know this sounds like crazy talk, but it really speaks to the "Act like you care" suggestion, above. Once in a while, and only you know how often it should be, skip the bedroom and take her to lunch.  If there is no place you can go publicly together, prepare a picnic for the two of you and take her somewhere for a bite and some conversation. If it turns into some hot car sex, that's ok, but the point is that you were prepared just to spend time with her for a purpose other than getting your cock sucked or fucking her. Now, it may be that she doesn't want this.  She may want some "private time" every time.  That's fine, but make the offer.  Show the initiative.

6. Be Romantic - Get your creativity juices flowing, boys. How can you show her that you want her in your life and that you are grateful that she's your sweetie? Gifts and flowers are nice, but they can be problematic  Those problems can be solved.  I had one sweetie who liked to bring me flowers, and to be honest, I loved getting them, but I couldn't keep them.  I couldn't take them home or back to work, so I gave them to someone on my way out of wherever we were. If we were at a restaurant  I'd give them to another diner.  If we were at a hotel, I left them at the front desk.  On occasion  I'd drop them by a friend's house and leave them anonymously. He understood that I couldn't keep them, but it was the romance he was going for and he hit the nail on the head (he also had more than enough money for that sort of thing). It can also be romantic to give very small gifts that she can keep. Focus on everyday things that wouldn't be noticed at home. JJ gave me a small key chain once from a trip he took. It was from a place that I had been before so it wouldn't spark any interest at home. I love that little key chain and every time I look at it I think of him. Inexpensive, simple, meaningful, safe - a great choice.

If you're thinking, "Kat, I don't have time for all this!" I understand. I really do. But remember this: We make time for that which is important to us. If you don't have time for any of this (and I'm just talking about enough to show you care, not going overboard), then your mistress is getting the message that your relationship with her is not important to you. Maybe it's not.  If that's ok with both of you, that's fine. You may want to be sure, though,  you're both on same page or she may have one foot out the door.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

The Bath

I don't usually take a bath.  I'm more of a shower kind of gal, but it had been a long day and I needed the time alone to decompress and relax more than I needed to be washed. I had been out in the rain, so my clothes were clinging to me, adhered to my skin by cold water.  I was shivering.

I began to undress as I ran the water, dropping my clothes into a disheveled pile on the floor.  I added some bubble bath and then stood there in only my panties and stared at the pile as I waited for the tub to fill.  I thought about how everything in that pile was clean and pressed this morning - and now look at it. It was kind of like me.  I started out the day all filled with energy and hope, and now I was cold and exhausted and stressed.

I checked the temperature of the water.  Perfect.  Nice and hot.  Hotter than most people would like it. I reached over and turned off the water, slipped out of my panties and stepped in.

The heat of the water against my cold skin stung as I eased in, but soon the sting transformed to pleasurable warmth that had magical powers.  It was as if the stress and negativity was being sucked out of me, inch by inch, as the sting disappeared. As I slowly lowered my body into the tub, the sting of the hot water on new portions of skin collided in my brain with the intense pleasure of release from other parts. I surrendered to it, letting my mind slip into a nearly meditative state as my body was enveloped by the water.

I exhaled slowly when I was laying down in the tub. Yeah, this is exactly what I needed. I put a washcloth behind my head as a pillow and noticed that my shoulders were hunched and tight. I rolled them back a few times, intentionally trying to relax them, an act which caused me to notice the tension throughout the rest of my body - my neck, my back, my abdomen.  I was one big knot of tension and anxiety. Clearly, the hot water alone was not enough to relax me.

I decided to try some meditation, but my thoughts kept drifting to him. I remembered what he'd said to me earlier in the day and it made me smile. I wondered what he was doing right at that moment as I was laying naked in my tub thinking of him.

Most of the little waves of water left from my getting into the tub had subsided, but little ripples of water lapped at my nipples which were sticking out of the water. At first, I thought, I sure wish we had a bigger tub, but then I lifted a hand and flipped it down quickly, creating more ripples so I could enjoy more of the sensation of the teasing water.

I closed my eyes and imagined that it were him playing with my nipples, not touching me anywhere else, gently brushing his fingers against my nipples, telling me not to move. I grabbed a washcloth and put it over my eyes, imagining it was a blindfold. Soon, the gentleness of the water wasn't enough, and I reached up and started pinching and flicking each nipple myself. My pussy instantly twitched.

Keeping my left hand on my left breast, I slipped my right hand slowly between my legs and found my clit, pressing on it gently.....holding....waiting. I could "hear" him whispering in my ear, telling me not to move, telling me to wait when what I wanted more than anything at that moment was to start rocking my hips and pressing against his hand. I could imagine him looking at me, smiling, amused at my pathetic attempt to control myself. I pinched my left nipple as hard as I could. Was I attempting to distract myself? It was poor attempt if that's what I was trying to do because it caused a jolt of pleasure to shoot downward making my hips thrust forward. I imagined him laughing out loud at my lack of self control.

No. I couldn't wait any longer. I circled my clit slowly with my finger as I gently rocked my hips. Very gently. Just enough to get the water lapping at that right nipple while I continued to pinch the left.

I imagined him joining me in the tub, sliding his hardness inside me as I wrapped my legs around him. Then he kissed me. I melted into that kiss, wishing it could last forever, wishing it were real.

The orgasm didn't sneak up on me like happens sometimes.  This one was like a freight train. The vibrations started in the distance and roared forward in a fury, finally exploding with a geyser of pleasure like the steam bursting forth from the exhaust chute of a steam engine.

I bit my lip as I tried not to make any noise. I wished he were there to kiss me hard and muffle the sounds so I could enjoy it with abandon, but he wasn't. As the shaking subsided, the illusion I had created for myself had evaporated. The cool air on my breasts and the tops of my shoulders now felt cold. For a moment, the comforting solitude of the bath felt lonely and sad.  I really did want him to be here with me. No matter how I tried to think about it differently, the reality was that I was there and he wasn't. That's the way it was and there was nothing I could do about it.

I reflected for a few minutes as I cleaned myself on how strange it was to feel so connected to someone while being so physically distant.....and to feel so disconnected from someone who is physically close. It's not that I feel completely disconnected from Hubby.  Not at all. But there's a part of me that he'll never understand, that he doesn't even want to understand.

I felt that loneliness return briefly as I thought about that.  Then I realized the water had cooled down. It wasn't hot and inviting anymore, but tepid and dull.

No, I told myself. No tepid and dull for me. Not anymore. That's not the life I choose.

I sat up, pulled the plug out with my toe and heard the water start gushing down the drain. I stood up quickly and grabbed my favorite big towel from the towel rack. As I wrapped it around me, my mind slipped one more time to thoughts of him - of his arms sliding around me as he pulled me close to him. Then I stepped out of the tub and pushed the thoughts of him away. It was time to come back to now, to this moment, this place. I dried off and wiggled into the clean panties and oversized shirt I had brought in with me. I hung up the towel and ran a brush through my hair. The I pulled on the big fluffy robe I loved and opened the door.  As I stepped into the hallway, I remembered my dirty clothes and I turned around to get them, but I didn't quite make it.  My youngest son came flying down the hallway, screaming, "The Robe!!!!"

I laughed and steadied myself because I knew what was coming. He launched at me and I caught him in the air. Dang, he gets bigger every day. We ended up on the floor with me tickling him and him struggling to wiggle inside part of the warm fluffy robe. I pretended to be trying to keep him out.  Eventually, though, he won (he always does) and we ended up in a big, robe-enveloped hug. I knew I'd have him there for about 30 seconds before he'd leap up and skip away, so I held him close and breathed him in and kissed his head as much as he'd let me.

My heart was full, and three simple, but powerful, thoughts overwhelmed me.

This is now.  This is real.  This is love.

Dinner Time

Soccer Mom shared this little funny with me, so I'm passing it on.  Delicious.....

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Why Married and Single Shouldn't Mix

I got a text last night from a guy I haven't heard from for a while. We never met in person, but there was potential at the time or he never would have had my Google Voice number. I didn't even recognize the number; it took me a while to put together who he was.

He's a single guy. Divorced, actually. I know what you're thinking. But Kat, don't you have a rule about no single guys? Well, I used to have that rule, but since I've broken it several times over the years, I now call it a "guideline."

In any event, this single guy texted me last night.  What did he want?  What do you think?  He wanted me to come out to "play."

At 5:30 in the evening.  On Halloween.  After not communicating at all for a long time.


This is a clear example of how married and single folks simply don't mix well together when it comes to the prowling world.

To this single guy, texting someone you haven't talked to for a while to meet for sex is no big deal.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?  To me (a married woman), this is a classic booty call. He might as well have said, "Hey, my blow up sex doll won't inflate properly.  Will you come over and bend over for me?"  Attractive, huh?  Not.

To this single guy, there is nothing unusual about about a booty call at 5:30 p.m.  In my family world, that's when I'm making dinner, checking homework, listening to Hubby tell me about his day, and folding laundry - all at the same time. It's probably the time of day (except for the middle of the night) when my absence would be most conspicuous.

To this single guy, calling for a booty call on Halloween night is not unreasonable. To me, it's the stupidest thing in the world.  I've got kids. This is a children's holiday.  As soon as the dinner rush is over, we head out for trick-or-treat time. Married people know this.  Single guys are oblivious to it.

I understand the attraction that many single men have for married women. We will expect absolutely no long term commitment from them and we will never expect them to marry us.  We're perfect for the commitment-phobic single men of the world....or so they think. What they don't get is that a booty call is not what most of us are looking for.  We're looking for some kind of an emotional connection, too.  To them, even the words "emotional connection" are scary.

They also don't get that a married woman is not going to be available at their beck and call. Satisfying their current sexual need is not high on our priority list. It's probably not on the priority list at all. Family obligations come first, as they should.

This guy never had a chance with me anyway because my heart is firmly in someone else's hands these days, but his approach would have turned me off even if I was crazy horny, dripping wet and seriously in need of a good, hard fucking.

And any man who suggests that a booty call is more important than time with my kids really doesn't get it and deserves to have his number blocked....which is exactly what I did.