I opened the door and G was standing there smiling. I backed up to let him in, hiding behind the door as it opened. The room was dimly lit. The only light was from the bathroom, just enough to be able to see but not as harsh as all the other lights in the room. I wished I had been one of those sophisticated women who always has a scarf to throw over a lamp when dimmer lighting is called for, but I wasn't very sophisticated at all. I'm still not, but I do usually have a scarf with me for that purpose these days.
He stepped in the room and I shut the door behind him. There was no speaking at all. That was part of the deal I made him agree to. I was afraid that we'd wake my mother in the next room.
He took off his jacket and threw it over a chair. Then he came over and kissed me. The height differential made it awkward again, so he backed up to the bed, sat down, and then pulled me to him. We were almost exactly the same height then. We kissed for a long time. He was an excellent kisser. An excellent kisser with a big cock. Not a bad combination. I have cum quite a few times over the past couple of decades thinking about what I could so with that boy now, but he's not that same boy anymore. And I'm not that girl.
Eventually, he stopped kissing me and started getting undressed. I didn't. I was shy. I have no idea why. He had seen me half naked earlier in the afternoon. There really wasn't any reason to hide, but I was still nervous.
He climbed into bed and motioned for me to lay beside him. I scurried to comply quickly. I was good at following orders. If he would just tell me what to do, I'd be fine.
He kissed me some more, and slid his hand under my nightgown. I could feel his hardness against me and, wow!, he was really hard. Then he whispered in my ear, "Get on top of me."
I thought, Good! An order. I can do that! But then I thought, Didn't he agree not to speak at all?
I straddled him quickly, hiking my nightgown up to my waist, then lifting up a bit to take him inside me. I started rocking my hips forward and back, slowly at first, then a little faster. I watched his face to see some sign that I was doing it right, or not, but I couldn't tell. I could tell that I was getting excited, though, and I quit worrying about him and started moving on him the way that felt the best to me. I knew I was close. I closed my eyes, and just as I was about to cum, he grabbed my hips forcefully and pulled me down on him, holding me deeply impaled on him and still. He whispered a moan as he came.
I hissed, "No!" His eyes shot open and he sat up and wrapped his arms around me, looking at me seriously. "No?" he said. "Are you ok?"
"Shhh!" I chastised. Then I leaned right against his ear and said, "I was almost there. You finished too fast."
He laughed, quietly of course. Then he whispered back, "Don't worry. You'll have another chance." And he flashed that king size smile that made my tummy flutter.
We relaxed on the bed for awhile, just holding each other and kissing. I had no idea how long it would be until I got my next chance, but I learned it was easy to tell. He got hard again and I looked at him and whispered, "Now?" He laughed and said, "Yes, Kat, now."
I pulled up my nightie and straddled him again. He broke our talking rule and said in a normal voice, "Take that thing off." He was referring to my nightgown and it sounded like an order to me. I didn't hesitate. I just pulled it off over my head and tossed it on the floor. He gasped audibly. Now I was embarrassed. I know I blushed. He just reached up and caressed my cheek for a moment as I started riding him. This time, I did it may way from the beginning, and I was ready to cum in no time.
He was still breaking the talking rule, but at least it was quieter. He saw that I was starting to cum, and he said, "That's it, Sweetie. That's it." Then I let go and let my body do what it wanted. I came hard, very hard. He exhaled a "Holy shit!" and then held my hips down again like he did before, but I was ok with it by then.
I collapsed on the bed next to him and he said, "You've definitely done this before." I smiled and whispered, "Maybe."
We spend the rest of the night until 5:30 in the morning alternating between kissing and fucking. I came once more. He came every damn time. I really don't know how many times we did it but I know it was more than 6, and I had to force him to leave in the morning.
The strange thing about that night was that we only did it in one position - me on top riding him. I was waiting for him say he wanted something else and he never did. However, a few months later I came back. By myself. For a week.
But that's another story.....
Monday, December 31, 2012
Sunday, December 30, 2012
The Wedding Guest
I saw him for the first time at the wedding reception. It was my cousin's wedding. G was watching the belly dancer who was providing entertainment. No, it is not my family's custom to have a belly dancer at our weddings, and I can assure you that my grandmother was mortified. I was intrigued by it all. After her "performance," various men jumped up to dance with her and tuck money in her panties.
G took a big gulp of champagne directly out of the bottle and stepped up to dance. He was very tall (6'6") and lanky and, to be honest, he was not a good dancer, but no one cared. As another man stepped up to dance, G tucked a $20 bill in her panties and stepped back. His friends were laughing and patting him on the back, as if his ugly dance and monetary contribution was some sort of rite of manhood. I just didn't get it. But I kept looking at him.
As I said, he was tall. He had blonde hair and blue eyes and a very long face with a squared jaw that made his face look kind of like a rectangle. I wouldn't say he handsome, but he wasn't unattractive, either.
He noticed me staring at him and he walked over. I was terrified. He was 22. I was 16. Being noticed by a real man was exciting! He introduced himself but I already knew who he was and he already knew who I was. We found a couple of empty chairs and sat down to chat. We made small talk while my mother watched me closely from across the room. I was annoyed that she was watching me like a hawk, as if she was doing her motherly duty. In an hour she'd be drunk off her ass and completely unconcerned about me and my brothers. I was sure the motherly act she was putting on now was just for the benefit of my grandmother.
G could tell I was uncomfortable, so he asked if I wanted to go for a walk. Hell yes I wanted to get out of there. He took my hand and we went outside.
The reception was held in a hall in a rural area by the coast. It was cool outside, almost cold. G took off his coat and put it around my shoulders. I was so impressed and I felt so grownup.We walked a while until we came to a little shed with a grassy area behind it, hidden from the reception hall and the road. That's when he kissed me. He was so tall and I was so short that he bent way down and I still had to stand up on my tippy toes to kiss him. I still remember that kiss 32 years later. It was magical.
The next thing I knew he was kneeling and tugging on me, trying to get me to lay down in the grass. He never stopped kissing me. I just let him lead me. I felt him sliding his hands up my dress and under my bra. I remember I had to remind myself to breathe because I realized I was holding my breath. Then he slid his hand down under my panty hose (yes, those were the days when you wore hose with a dress always) and gently pushed a finger inside me. I gasped and looked at him. He stopped for a moment and asked if I was o.k., if I wanted him to stop All I said was, "Don't stop." He smiled and kissed me again.
When he started fingering my clit, I finally realized where this was going to go. I looked around nervously. I was definitely not a virgin, but I had never had sex out in the open like this, in broad daylight. What would happen in someone else come out for a walk? While I was running through the scenarios of what I would do if we got caught, G was removing my shoes and hose and pulling my dress up above my waist.
I watched him as he stared at my pussy while he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants. His cock literally bounced out as he pulled his pants down to his knees. I laughed. I hadn't yet learned never to laugh at a man's cock for any reason. He looked at me strangely for a moment. I think he was trying to decide if he was offended or not, but he didn't think long because he drove his cock into me quickly.
I gasped and grabbed onto him, my arms wrapped around his chest. He fucked me slowly - long, deep strokes. His was the biggest cock I had experienced up that point and I was unprepared for how different it would feel. Each thrust shook me and I just held on. At that age, I was completely unaware of how to actively participate, but I assumed I was doing just fine because every now and then he would groan something like, "Damn, you are so tight," and "Yeah, Baby, juts like that," which I thought was strange because I didn't think I was doing anything. I now know that if you're a cute young gal, you really don't have to do anything. Just being cute, young and tight is usually enough.
Pretty soon, it was over. I didn't cum, but I didn't expect to. I was way too nervous. He seemed disappointed, though. As I pulled my hose back on, he asked if he could see me later. My family would be in town for a few days. We were staying in a hotel with two adjoining rooms and it turned out that for one night -that night- I'd have one of those rooms all to .myself, so I told him the hotel and room number and we arranged for him come by at midnight. Everyone else should be asleep by then.
He kissed me again, then he took my hand and we walked back to the reception. My mom was standing in front of me asking me where we went within 15 seconds of us walking through the door. I told her we went for a walk. She didn't say a word as she picked some grass out of my hair. G dropped my hand and walked away quickly.
I don't remember much about the rest of the reception. G left early without saying anything to me. But I couldn't get him off my mind. I hoped he would show up at the hotel that night. I didn't know why I was so nervous earlier, except for the fact that we were outside, but I fully expected to enjoy myself a bit more if I could get him in a nice comfortable bed. I imagined how I'd ride him then and what it would feel like to cum with that great big cock inside me.
The hours didn't tick by fast enough, but soon it was almost midnight. I was wearing my white cotton nightgown with little pink ribbons. I was a bit embarrassed about that, but I didn't have much else to wear excepts jeans and dresses.
Then, a few minutes after midnight, there was a gentle knock on the door......
G took a big gulp of champagne directly out of the bottle and stepped up to dance. He was very tall (6'6") and lanky and, to be honest, he was not a good dancer, but no one cared. As another man stepped up to dance, G tucked a $20 bill in her panties and stepped back. His friends were laughing and patting him on the back, as if his ugly dance and monetary contribution was some sort of rite of manhood. I just didn't get it. But I kept looking at him.
As I said, he was tall. He had blonde hair and blue eyes and a very long face with a squared jaw that made his face look kind of like a rectangle. I wouldn't say he handsome, but he wasn't unattractive, either.
He noticed me staring at him and he walked over. I was terrified. He was 22. I was 16. Being noticed by a real man was exciting! He introduced himself but I already knew who he was and he already knew who I was. We found a couple of empty chairs and sat down to chat. We made small talk while my mother watched me closely from across the room. I was annoyed that she was watching me like a hawk, as if she was doing her motherly duty. In an hour she'd be drunk off her ass and completely unconcerned about me and my brothers. I was sure the motherly act she was putting on now was just for the benefit of my grandmother.
G could tell I was uncomfortable, so he asked if I wanted to go for a walk. Hell yes I wanted to get out of there. He took my hand and we went outside.
The reception was held in a hall in a rural area by the coast. It was cool outside, almost cold. G took off his coat and put it around my shoulders. I was so impressed and I felt so grownup.We walked a while until we came to a little shed with a grassy area behind it, hidden from the reception hall and the road. That's when he kissed me. He was so tall and I was so short that he bent way down and I still had to stand up on my tippy toes to kiss him. I still remember that kiss 32 years later. It was magical.
The next thing I knew he was kneeling and tugging on me, trying to get me to lay down in the grass. He never stopped kissing me. I just let him lead me. I felt him sliding his hands up my dress and under my bra. I remember I had to remind myself to breathe because I realized I was holding my breath. Then he slid his hand down under my panty hose (yes, those were the days when you wore hose with a dress always) and gently pushed a finger inside me. I gasped and looked at him. He stopped for a moment and asked if I was o.k., if I wanted him to stop All I said was, "Don't stop." He smiled and kissed me again.
When he started fingering my clit, I finally realized where this was going to go. I looked around nervously. I was definitely not a virgin, but I had never had sex out in the open like this, in broad daylight. What would happen in someone else come out for a walk? While I was running through the scenarios of what I would do if we got caught, G was removing my shoes and hose and pulling my dress up above my waist.
I watched him as he stared at my pussy while he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants. His cock literally bounced out as he pulled his pants down to his knees. I laughed. I hadn't yet learned never to laugh at a man's cock for any reason. He looked at me strangely for a moment. I think he was trying to decide if he was offended or not, but he didn't think long because he drove his cock into me quickly.
I gasped and grabbed onto him, my arms wrapped around his chest. He fucked me slowly - long, deep strokes. His was the biggest cock I had experienced up that point and I was unprepared for how different it would feel. Each thrust shook me and I just held on. At that age, I was completely unaware of how to actively participate, but I assumed I was doing just fine because every now and then he would groan something like, "Damn, you are so tight," and "Yeah, Baby, juts like that," which I thought was strange because I didn't think I was doing anything. I now know that if you're a cute young gal, you really don't have to do anything. Just being cute, young and tight is usually enough.
Pretty soon, it was over. I didn't cum, but I didn't expect to. I was way too nervous. He seemed disappointed, though. As I pulled my hose back on, he asked if he could see me later. My family would be in town for a few days. We were staying in a hotel with two adjoining rooms and it turned out that for one night -that night- I'd have one of those rooms all to .myself, so I told him the hotel and room number and we arranged for him come by at midnight. Everyone else should be asleep by then.
He kissed me again, then he took my hand and we walked back to the reception. My mom was standing in front of me asking me where we went within 15 seconds of us walking through the door. I told her we went for a walk. She didn't say a word as she picked some grass out of my hair. G dropped my hand and walked away quickly.
I don't remember much about the rest of the reception. G left early without saying anything to me. But I couldn't get him off my mind. I hoped he would show up at the hotel that night. I didn't know why I was so nervous earlier, except for the fact that we were outside, but I fully expected to enjoy myself a bit more if I could get him in a nice comfortable bed. I imagined how I'd ride him then and what it would feel like to cum with that great big cock inside me.
The hours didn't tick by fast enough, but soon it was almost midnight. I was wearing my white cotton nightgown with little pink ribbons. I was a bit embarrassed about that, but I didn't have much else to wear excepts jeans and dresses.
Then, a few minutes after midnight, there was a gentle knock on the door......
Friday, December 28, 2012
Miniskirts and Rape
It was reported several days ago that Swaziland had banned miniskirts, bare midriff tops and low rise jeans for women because those clothes provoked rape, or at least made the crime easier for rapists to commit. The consequence could be six months in jail for a woman who breaks the new law.
We learned yesterday that Swaziland officials say it was all a big mistake. There is no such ban, they say, but there probably should be, and women should not expose themselves to rape by wearing those types of clothing.
I understand the problem. Rape is out of control in many African nations. In South Africa, a study by the Medical Research Council found that 1 in 4 men admitted to having raped at least one woman or girl. There's a huge outcry to address the issue and stop the problem.
Heck, rape is a problem just about everywhere.
But this approach is just logically wrong. If I leave my house unlocked and someone breaks in, should there be a law requiring me to keep my house locked at all times, making me the criminal if someone breaks in again?
You may say that rape is different because men just can't control themselves when they see women in miniskirts, but let's take my house analogy a bit further. What if I have a really nice house and you can see my expensive big flat screen TV and some other very cool stuff from the street because I have a nice big picture window. Does that make it my fault if someone robs me? What about all those law abiding people who could also see my stuff, but didn't break in? Why was the visual of my stuff just too much of a temptation and, therefore, the cause of the robbery for one guy, but not for the others? It wasn't. That would be blaming the homeowner, I mean, victim.
But just to drive a nail in the coffin of the argument that miniskirts cause or "provoke" rape, what about all of the women who have been conservatively dressed but were raped anyway? This by far represents the majority of rape victims worldwide. What provoked those rapes?
To be fair, if I knew I were in a place where there was a high incidence of rape, I would not be wearing revealing clothes anyway, not because I think miniskirts cause rape, but because being more conservatively dressed would make me feel more secure and because, if I were attacked, I wouldn't want to make his job any easier. The more time the criminal has to spend fumbling with my clothes means I may have just a few more seconds to get free and get away.
So, if it's not about miniskirts, what is it about? Honestly, I'm amazed that we, as a species, are still having this conversation, but clearly we need to.
It's about the violence.
It's about the violent domination of women.
It's about power.
It's about hopelessness and attempting to regain power.
Power is the need that is filled, if only temporarily. Violence is the strategy. Sex is the weapon.
Let me share a story to illustrate my point. It's a pretty horrific story; forgive me for that, please. A 76-year old woman in Sacramento was raped in her home in November 2010. I strongly suspect she was not dressed like a hoochie-mama. She couldn't help much with the investigation because she had suffered a stroke.
In September 2012, he raped her in her home again. Yes, the same guy. They confirmed it with DNA evidence. Then they finally put in some surveillance cameras and, just a few weeks ago, he came back to rape her a third time, but this time, they caught him on camera. By the way, it turns out that he was a police officer. He's not anymore because he was fired the day he was arrested.
Do you think it was all about sex for him? Or how suggestively the 76-year-old stroke victim was dressed? Unlikely. And it's pretty obvious that she didn't bring this on herself.
I applaud folks who are proposing solutions for the rape epidemic, especially in Africa, even if the ideas are not good ones. Taking rape seriously is an important start. But it's time to move beyond the belief that women provoke rape.
To go back to my analogy, we would never say, "Well, the owner of that house (locked or not) is responsible because she has such nice stuff." I may be stupid if I don't lock my house, but that doesn't make the robber less of a criminal.
There is so much to say on the topic in general that I'll be sharing a few more posts with you on related topics like the difference between rape fantasies and real rape (nothing screws up a good rape fantasy like really getting raped...seriously) and that fine line between holding rapists responsible for their behavior and demonizing all men (the first is good, the second is not).
I'd love to hear your thoughts on this topic, Prowlers (not the topic about locking my house, but the one about miniskirts and rape).
For those of you moaning, "Why so serious, Kat?" Don't worry. There's always plenty of naughtiness to come.
We learned yesterday that Swaziland officials say it was all a big mistake. There is no such ban, they say, but there probably should be, and women should not expose themselves to rape by wearing those types of clothing.
I understand the problem. Rape is out of control in many African nations. In South Africa, a study by the Medical Research Council found that 1 in 4 men admitted to having raped at least one woman or girl. There's a huge outcry to address the issue and stop the problem.
Heck, rape is a problem just about everywhere.
But this approach is just logically wrong. If I leave my house unlocked and someone breaks in, should there be a law requiring me to keep my house locked at all times, making me the criminal if someone breaks in again?
You may say that rape is different because men just can't control themselves when they see women in miniskirts, but let's take my house analogy a bit further. What if I have a really nice house and you can see my expensive big flat screen TV and some other very cool stuff from the street because I have a nice big picture window. Does that make it my fault if someone robs me? What about all those law abiding people who could also see my stuff, but didn't break in? Why was the visual of my stuff just too much of a temptation and, therefore, the cause of the robbery for one guy, but not for the others? It wasn't. That would be blaming the homeowner, I mean, victim.
But just to drive a nail in the coffin of the argument that miniskirts cause or "provoke" rape, what about all of the women who have been conservatively dressed but were raped anyway? This by far represents the majority of rape victims worldwide. What provoked those rapes?
To be fair, if I knew I were in a place where there was a high incidence of rape, I would not be wearing revealing clothes anyway, not because I think miniskirts cause rape, but because being more conservatively dressed would make me feel more secure and because, if I were attacked, I wouldn't want to make his job any easier. The more time the criminal has to spend fumbling with my clothes means I may have just a few more seconds to get free and get away.
So, if it's not about miniskirts, what is it about? Honestly, I'm amazed that we, as a species, are still having this conversation, but clearly we need to.
It's about the violence.
It's about the violent domination of women.
It's about power.
It's about hopelessness and attempting to regain power.
Power is the need that is filled, if only temporarily. Violence is the strategy. Sex is the weapon.
Let me share a story to illustrate my point. It's a pretty horrific story; forgive me for that, please. A 76-year old woman in Sacramento was raped in her home in November 2010. I strongly suspect she was not dressed like a hoochie-mama. She couldn't help much with the investigation because she had suffered a stroke.
In September 2012, he raped her in her home again. Yes, the same guy. They confirmed it with DNA evidence. Then they finally put in some surveillance cameras and, just a few weeks ago, he came back to rape her a third time, but this time, they caught him on camera. By the way, it turns out that he was a police officer. He's not anymore because he was fired the day he was arrested.
Do you think it was all about sex for him? Or how suggestively the 76-year-old stroke victim was dressed? Unlikely. And it's pretty obvious that she didn't bring this on herself.
I applaud folks who are proposing solutions for the rape epidemic, especially in Africa, even if the ideas are not good ones. Taking rape seriously is an important start. But it's time to move beyond the belief that women provoke rape.
To go back to my analogy, we would never say, "Well, the owner of that house (locked or not) is responsible because she has such nice stuff." I may be stupid if I don't lock my house, but that doesn't make the robber less of a criminal.
There is so much to say on the topic in general that I'll be sharing a few more posts with you on related topics like the difference between rape fantasies and real rape (nothing screws up a good rape fantasy like really getting raped...seriously) and that fine line between holding rapists responsible for their behavior and demonizing all men (the first is good, the second is not).
I'd love to hear your thoughts on this topic, Prowlers (not the topic about locking my house, but the one about miniskirts and rape).
For those of you moaning, "Why so serious, Kat?" Don't worry. There's always plenty of naughtiness to come.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Don't You Hate It When.....
... you have to come into the office on your vacation to let the phone guy in, so you decide to work on configuring your new computer while he's doing his thing and it's frustrating because Windows 8 is brand new and a bit strange, and the strangest thing so far is that there's a little (not so little) space on the home screen that scrolls through all the photos in your picture folder, whether you want them to or not, and you really don't want them to because you have some photos in there that no one should see at work, but you can't finish the job because the phone guy comes up from the basement to explain what he did and, even though he's a very attractive young man, you're not into him because you're a little annoyed with him because he's the reason you had to come in to work on your vacation, even though it's not his fault, so you turn your chair around to talk to him and he's explaining.... Blah blah blah.... And it's all bullshit anyway because he's saying he couldn't finish the job because someone somewhere didn't do something right and he needs to come back on Friday which means you'll lose another day of vacation, and you're getting even more annoyed when you notice that he's not looking at you anymore; he's looking over your shoulder, and you turn around to see what he's looking at and you see a picture of JJ's cock in your ass on your monitor, and you close your eyes even though you know that won't make it go away and it won't make the phone guy disappear, so you turn around and now the phone guy is smiling at you as he says, "I've never seen that in an office before".....?
Yeah, I hate it when that happens.
Men in Boxes
I like my men in boxes. Not real boxes, but figurative ones.
I knew a man once who liked to put a box-like steel cage around a woman's head before he had sex with her. It was an unusual dominant fetish, and while I don't like to call anyone's sexual practice "weird" because there is such a wide range of normal in the sexual landscape, this guy was, well, weird.
Anyway, as I was saying, I like my men in neat little boxes. Husband. Lover. Potential lover. Friend. Fuck buddy. Colleague. Employee. Client. Acquaintance. When they are in their boxes, I know where I stand. I feel in control of the situation.
Every now and then, someone jumps to another box. A fuck buddy becomes a lover. A friend becomes a colleague. A lover becomes only a friend. Sometimes the transition is smooth and easy, sometimes it's not, but as long as I know what box they're in, I know the parameters of the relationship and I know how to act.
In many cases, they'll jump back and forth between boxes or straddle more than one box. That's ok, too, as long as I know what boxes I'm working with.
The problems start, though, when a man refuses to get in a box or identify with a box. I'm not saying that he needs to be in the box *I* want him in. To the contrary, I'm perfectly ok with him picking his own box. Well, maybe I'm not "perfectly ok" with it, but I can tolerate it. It might take me a while to adjust if I don't like the box he picked, but I will.
There's a man in my life, let's call him K, who has me off balance. I didn't know why for a long time (months) , but I figured it out last night - he won't get in a box. He's clearly in the "friend" box, but he effortlessly dances me around the other boxes and every now and then we'll dip and I'll think we're going into another, but he spins me away. I get a bit shaky and confused, but then he sits securely back in the friend box and the parameters of the relationship become clear to me again.... until the music starts playing again.
I can't say this is bad. It's just unusual for a man in my life to not pick a box clearly and decisively. And don't think I force them into it. No, I've found that men want to be in a box very quickly (and no, Gentleman, that was not intended to be a metaphor for sex, although it could be, couldn't it?). A man meets a woman and ***BAM*** he wants in that fuck buddy box right away or he walks away with interest only in the acquaintance box.... Or he's struck by cupid and he pursues the lover box.
It's unusual for a man to resist getting in a box. It's unusual for me not to be in control. It's unusual for me to feel so off balance.
But K is definitely not usual or average. He's quite remarkable, actually.
There has been no sex. Will there be? I have no idea. I usually know almost immediately if there will be sex, but K won't stay in a box, which I find intriguing and fascinating, frustrating and alluring.
And so we dance..... and he won't let me lead. I trip and stumble frequently. I say the wrong thing or stutter and giggle like a nervous teenage girl. I wonder if he'll be patient with me.
This Kat is used to being firmly in charge of any situation until and unless I choose to exchange that control for sexual pleasure. Not having that control to begin with is unsettling, but I think it might be good for me.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Friday, December 21, 2012
Close Up
One time JJ was fucking my ass and he said, "I wish you could see this. It looks amazing!" It really wasn't fair that he could see it perfectly and there was no way I could get a great view given my position.
Another time, he was fisting me (and I l-o-v-e that!!!) and he said it again, "I sure wish you could see this!" I really did want to see it, but if you've ever had a man's fist and wrist up inside you, you know that mobility is limited.
So, we talked about it and decided that he would take some pictures for me the next time. But we forgot. It's kind of hard when you're in the heat of the moment to stop, get the camera, and get a good shot. It's not like a porn movie, either. In porn, there's a camera person, a lighting director, the "acting" director, and a bunch of horny groupies watching. Here's how it went in our photo session:
Anal shots - I stoked him for a while to spread the lube, and because I just wanted to stroke him and hold his thick cock in my hands. Then he got in position, positioned his cock right up against my asshole and I started leaning back. The painful part is initial entry, but that passes quickly....but not this time. Just after the head was in, he stopped and said, "Wait!" I groaned, "What?! What do you mean, 'wait'?" "Let me get my camera," he said. So he started reaching for his phone, which was on the night stand, while I tried not to move and as I started using Lamaze breathing to deal with the unending initial entry. I started to think, Is a picture really worth it?
You tell me. Here are the two shots he took.
After the photos were taken, he tossed his phone aside, grabbed my hips and fucked me very, very hard - my reward for being so patient.
You should be impressed that I'm actually willing to share my 48 year old ass with you, Prowlers. But it's only for you. I wouldn't show these to just anyone.
My reaction when I see these is to get instantly horny. JJ has me trained to have a Pavlovian response, I think. I see his cock and I get wet anticipating a few orgasms.
The fisting shots were also pretty amazing, but I think I'll share those another time, ;-)
Another time, he was fisting me (and I l-o-v-e that!!!) and he said it again, "I sure wish you could see this!" I really did want to see it, but if you've ever had a man's fist and wrist up inside you, you know that mobility is limited.
So, we talked about it and decided that he would take some pictures for me the next time. But we forgot. It's kind of hard when you're in the heat of the moment to stop, get the camera, and get a good shot. It's not like a porn movie, either. In porn, there's a camera person, a lighting director, the "acting" director, and a bunch of horny groupies watching. Here's how it went in our photo session:
Anal shots - I stoked him for a while to spread the lube, and because I just wanted to stroke him and hold his thick cock in my hands. Then he got in position, positioned his cock right up against my asshole and I started leaning back. The painful part is initial entry, but that passes quickly....but not this time. Just after the head was in, he stopped and said, "Wait!" I groaned, "What?! What do you mean, 'wait'?" "Let me get my camera," he said. So he started reaching for his phone, which was on the night stand, while I tried not to move and as I started using Lamaze breathing to deal with the unending initial entry. I started to think, Is a picture really worth it?
You tell me. Here are the two shots he took.
After the photos were taken, he tossed his phone aside, grabbed my hips and fucked me very, very hard - my reward for being so patient.
You should be impressed that I'm actually willing to share my 48 year old ass with you, Prowlers. But it's only for you. I wouldn't show these to just anyone.
My reaction when I see these is to get instantly horny. JJ has me trained to have a Pavlovian response, I think. I see his cock and I get wet anticipating a few orgasms.
The fisting shots were also pretty amazing, but I think I'll share those another time, ;-)
Hubby's Least Favorite Restaurant
I was having dinner with Hubby last night in the same restaurant where I asked him for an open marriage about a year and a half ago and he shut me down. To be more accurate, that was where I first asked him for an open marriage. I've asked several times since then, but none of those had the same impact as the first time. It had such a profound impact on him that he refuses to sit in the same booth where we sat that day. I think that's a little silly, but I'll sit wherever he wants.
Anyway, we were there last night and the topic of three-time Olympian Suzy Favor Hamilton came up. As you may have heard, she has been working as a high priced call girl, oops...I mean, escort....in Vegas (and around the country) for the last year. She was caught and exposed, and the reason she gave for her activities was that it helped her deal with depression, the stress in her life, and some difficulties in her marriage.
Here's how part of my conversation went with Hubby:
Kat: Really? Sex with strangers as a treatment for depression and stress? So, why did I go with therapy? Sex would have been more fun.
Hubby: Don't even think about it. You're not an Olympian.
Kat (ignoring Hubby's comment): And therapy costs money. What she did made money.
Hubby: Spend that same amount of time on the business and you'll make even more. Then you can pay for the therapy I'm going to need as a result of the stress of this conversation.
Kat: But then we wouldn't have to have an "open marriage" because it would be my job. I think it's a win-win.
Hubby (getting frustrated): We don't have an open marriage and we're not going to have an open marriage!
Kat: I know. I was just thinking that I was fucking around for free and she was getting paid. Just seems like a more efficient approach........
Hubby: What is it with this restaurant? I hate this place.
Anyway, we were there last night and the topic of three-time Olympian Suzy Favor Hamilton came up. As you may have heard, she has been working as a high priced call girl, oops...I mean, escort....in Vegas (and around the country) for the last year. She was caught and exposed, and the reason she gave for her activities was that it helped her deal with depression, the stress in her life, and some difficulties in her marriage.
Here's how part of my conversation went with Hubby:
Kat: Really? Sex with strangers as a treatment for depression and stress? So, why did I go with therapy? Sex would have been more fun.
Hubby: Don't even think about it. You're not an Olympian.
Kat (ignoring Hubby's comment): And therapy costs money. What she did made money.
Hubby: Spend that same amount of time on the business and you'll make even more. Then you can pay for the therapy I'm going to need as a result of the stress of this conversation.
Kat: But then we wouldn't have to have an "open marriage" because it would be my job. I think it's a win-win.
Hubby (getting frustrated): We don't have an open marriage and we're not going to have an open marriage!
Kat: I know. I was just thinking that I was fucking around for free and she was getting paid. Just seems like a more efficient approach........
Hubby: What is it with this restaurant? I hate this place.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
End of an Era...and Some Other Thoughts
End of an Era
I never thought this would happen, but Strange Hotel Guy sold the hotel. The place that JJ and I used as our "home base" for about a year and a half is now owned by someone else. It's really a shame because it took us a long time to train Strange Hotel Guy (JJ calls him Creepy Hotel Guy), his wife Mrs. Strange, and the Strange kids. They knew which room we wanted. They didn't require a credit card. Toward the end, they didn't even require ID.
I walked in once and Mrs. Strange said, "Hi, Kat! How are you today?" (Wow! She knew my name! I guess showing up over 50 times had an impact.)
What I said: "I'm great, thank you. How are you?"
What I thought; "I'm awesome! Just a few minutes away from a nice hard fucking. How's Mr. Strange serving you these days?"
No more Strange Hotel Guy. No more Strange Family. Eegads! This means we have to find another hotel that won't take a credit card. And we have train new staff all over again. {sigh}
Truly, this is the end of an era. Maybe it's time to take it back out to the country roads again.
A Few Things I Have to Get Off My Chest
This first thing I had decided I wasn't ever going to mention, but I think enough time has passed (several weeks) so I can be somewhat graceful about it. There is a certain blog that posts a Top 100 Sex Bloggers list each year. The list is decided by a single individual - the owner and author of the blog. I'm sure she gets some input from her friends, which makes perfect sense, of course, but there is no formal process for making the determination. It's just the blogs she likes.
However, most people are not aware of this and they assume that the blogs on the list are the cream of the crop. To be fair, there are some excellent blogs on her list. There's also some crap. But that's just MY individual opinion.
Last year, I was on the list. I think I was number 35 or something like that. This year, I wasn't on the list at all. Huh? Really? Not at all? Yes, Prowlers, not at all. Clearly, I did something to piss this person off, even though I have never said a negative word about her or her blog. I'm not mentioning her name now or the name of her blog so I don't break that record.
But it did piss me off. More than a little, certainly more than it should have.
"What's the big deal, Kat?" Well, obviously, my ego is bruised. But it's not just that. Being on her list is a traffic bonanza because lots of people search for lists of sex blogs. Many of you found PWK through that list, didn't you?
I've passed "getting it off my chest" and now I'm moving officially into whining. It takes a lot of work to keep a blog going. Regular posting isn't as easy as it seems. Being creative and producing quality posts are not a walk in the park, either. I don't do it to be on anyone's list. I do it for myself...and for you guys.
I should stop now or I'll say something I regret.
Next topic.....
The topic of LOVE has come up recently in several emails and conversations with readers, so I want to review a few things here. I wrote about Heartache about a year ago. The point of that post was to keep your eyes open and keep your wits about you when you're in an affair or affair-type relationship. I've had my heart stomped on a few times now. It sucks. But I'm still a believer in loving. So far, after the pain subsides, I've never regretted loving someone, but I have regretted holding myself back and not letting myself love.
Here's another post about love in an extramarital relationship - That Pesky L Word. This one is definitely worth a read.
For the friend who asked me recently if she should pull back because the man she's in love with doesn't love her..... I am SO the wrong person to answer this question, but for what it's worth.... Don't think you can change him. Accept him for who he is. If you can really be happy without him loving you (unlikely), then go for it, but don't assume you can make him love you or want you more. If you can't live with the fact that he's always going to keep that emotional wedge between you, then by all means, protect yourself emotionally. Either pull back emotionally or end the relationship. Take care of yourself. Do what feels right. Usually, if you're honest with yourself, you know what that is.
A final thought on that.... Generally speaking, I'd rather regret something I did than something I didn't do. I'm just sayin'.....
As for the end of the world.....
Well, it's been nice knowing you, Prowlers. Gee, since the world is ending tomorrow and there won't be any backlash, I should probably just speak my mind on the 100 Sex Blogger list, huh? LOL. I don't think so.
Ryan wrote a special post just for this event. It's the End of the World As We Know It is a great title and a great song. For those of you who may not be familiar with Ryan's blog, The Ashley Madison Adventures of Regular Guy Gone Bad, Ryan references music a lot.....and food. And he's funny. Take a few minutes and read some of his posts. You'll like them. But read them quickly because the world is ending, so you don't have much time.
I was talking with JJ this week and one of us brought up the end of world. Here's a snippet of that conversation:
Kat: If the end of the world on Friday is actually the Rapture, then I won't be going anywhere.
JJ: Me, either. I guess I'll see you next month, then.
Seriously, I don't believe the world will end tomorrow. However, it shouldn't matter. We should all be prepared to go at any time. Have you lived the life you wanted to live? Have you done the things you wanted to do? I learned this lesson from Steve.
Live like there's no tomorrow.
Live now. Love now.
I never thought this would happen, but Strange Hotel Guy sold the hotel. The place that JJ and I used as our "home base" for about a year and a half is now owned by someone else. It's really a shame because it took us a long time to train Strange Hotel Guy (JJ calls him Creepy Hotel Guy), his wife Mrs. Strange, and the Strange kids. They knew which room we wanted. They didn't require a credit card. Toward the end, they didn't even require ID.
I walked in once and Mrs. Strange said, "Hi, Kat! How are you today?" (Wow! She knew my name! I guess showing up over 50 times had an impact.)
What I said: "I'm great, thank you. How are you?"
What I thought; "I'm awesome! Just a few minutes away from a nice hard fucking. How's Mr. Strange serving you these days?"
No more Strange Hotel Guy. No more Strange Family. Eegads! This means we have to find another hotel that won't take a credit card. And we have train new staff all over again. {sigh}
Truly, this is the end of an era. Maybe it's time to take it back out to the country roads again.
A Few Things I Have to Get Off My Chest
This first thing I had decided I wasn't ever going to mention, but I think enough time has passed (several weeks) so I can be somewhat graceful about it. There is a certain blog that posts a Top 100 Sex Bloggers list each year. The list is decided by a single individual - the owner and author of the blog. I'm sure she gets some input from her friends, which makes perfect sense, of course, but there is no formal process for making the determination. It's just the blogs she likes.
However, most people are not aware of this and they assume that the blogs on the list are the cream of the crop. To be fair, there are some excellent blogs on her list. There's also some crap. But that's just MY individual opinion.
Last year, I was on the list. I think I was number 35 or something like that. This year, I wasn't on the list at all. Huh? Really? Not at all? Yes, Prowlers, not at all. Clearly, I did something to piss this person off, even though I have never said a negative word about her or her blog. I'm not mentioning her name now or the name of her blog so I don't break that record.
But it did piss me off. More than a little, certainly more than it should have.
"What's the big deal, Kat?" Well, obviously, my ego is bruised. But it's not just that. Being on her list is a traffic bonanza because lots of people search for lists of sex blogs. Many of you found PWK through that list, didn't you?
I've passed "getting it off my chest" and now I'm moving officially into whining. It takes a lot of work to keep a blog going. Regular posting isn't as easy as it seems. Being creative and producing quality posts are not a walk in the park, either. I don't do it to be on anyone's list. I do it for myself...and for you guys.
I should stop now or I'll say something I regret.
Next topic.....
The topic of LOVE has come up recently in several emails and conversations with readers, so I want to review a few things here. I wrote about Heartache about a year ago. The point of that post was to keep your eyes open and keep your wits about you when you're in an affair or affair-type relationship. I've had my heart stomped on a few times now. It sucks. But I'm still a believer in loving. So far, after the pain subsides, I've never regretted loving someone, but I have regretted holding myself back and not letting myself love.
Here's another post about love in an extramarital relationship - That Pesky L Word. This one is definitely worth a read.
For the friend who asked me recently if she should pull back because the man she's in love with doesn't love her..... I am SO the wrong person to answer this question, but for what it's worth.... Don't think you can change him. Accept him for who he is. If you can really be happy without him loving you (unlikely), then go for it, but don't assume you can make him love you or want you more. If you can't live with the fact that he's always going to keep that emotional wedge between you, then by all means, protect yourself emotionally. Either pull back emotionally or end the relationship. Take care of yourself. Do what feels right. Usually, if you're honest with yourself, you know what that is.
A final thought on that.... Generally speaking, I'd rather regret something I did than something I didn't do. I'm just sayin'.....
As for the end of the world.....
Well, it's been nice knowing you, Prowlers. Gee, since the world is ending tomorrow and there won't be any backlash, I should probably just speak my mind on the 100 Sex Blogger list, huh? LOL. I don't think so.
Ryan wrote a special post just for this event. It's the End of the World As We Know It is a great title and a great song. For those of you who may not be familiar with Ryan's blog, The Ashley Madison Adventures of Regular Guy Gone Bad, Ryan references music a lot.....and food. And he's funny. Take a few minutes and read some of his posts. You'll like them. But read them quickly because the world is ending, so you don't have much time.
I was talking with JJ this week and one of us brought up the end of world. Here's a snippet of that conversation:
Kat: If the end of the world on Friday is actually the Rapture, then I won't be going anywhere.
JJ: Me, either. I guess I'll see you next month, then.
Seriously, I don't believe the world will end tomorrow. However, it shouldn't matter. We should all be prepared to go at any time. Have you lived the life you wanted to live? Have you done the things you wanted to do? I learned this lesson from Steve.
Live like there's no tomorrow.
Live now. Love now.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Christmas Hydrangea
JJ gave me this lovely hydrangea plant today. While you may or may not be impressed, I was. It was a very thoughtful gift for several reasons. First, it's not easy to find a gift I can keep. Roses would be lovely, but I couldn't bring them home or keep them, but I can explain hydrangeas. I love to garden. Anyone could have given me hydrangeas or I could have picked some up myself.
But there's more. All flowers have a meaning. Hydrangea flowers represent heartfelt, deep feelings when given as a gift. They also express thankfulness to a person with an understanding heart. Isn't that sweet?
I'll plant them outside my window and think of JJ whenever I look at them.
Take note, Gentlemen. Simple, but meaningful, wins every time. At least it does with me.
Friday, December 14, 2012
A Stupid Prowler Story - Yes, It Really Happened
This story is so full of fuck-ups interesting happenings that I just had to share it with you. Here it is in a nutshell:
Cop has affair with mistress. Cop works the night shift and spends at least 57 nights playing with mistress instead of bring on patrol. Cop falsifies all sorts of records to cover his tracks (of course). Cop parks his patrol car out in front of mistress's house every time he "visits." Neighbor calls police to complain about the police being parked out front so often. Cop gets caught. Cop "retires" after 18 years on the force and draws a full pension. Cop is charged with 80 counts of official misconduct and 25 counts of falsifying business records. Presumably, the affair ends. Mistress makes details of the affair public - like what they did when they were together and the fact that the cop sometimes left his gun where her kids could have reached it.
But here's the part that blew my hair back.....
Mistress sues the county for $10 million for failing to properly supervise the cop while he was on duty.
Wow!
By the way, the cop was married and she was not.
Okay, Prowlers, how many of you can identify the mistakes the cop made in this situation?
Here's a link to the news story if you want to read about it yourself.
Cop has affair with mistress. Cop works the night shift and spends at least 57 nights playing with mistress instead of bring on patrol. Cop falsifies all sorts of records to cover his tracks (of course). Cop parks his patrol car out in front of mistress's house every time he "visits." Neighbor calls police to complain about the police being parked out front so often. Cop gets caught. Cop "retires" after 18 years on the force and draws a full pension. Cop is charged with 80 counts of official misconduct and 25 counts of falsifying business records. Presumably, the affair ends. Mistress makes details of the affair public - like what they did when they were together and the fact that the cop sometimes left his gun where her kids could have reached it.
But here's the part that blew my hair back.....
Mistress sues the county for $10 million for failing to properly supervise the cop while he was on duty.
Wow!
By the way, the cop was married and she was not.
Okay, Prowlers, how many of you can identify the mistakes the cop made in this situation?
Here's a link to the news story if you want to read about it yourself.
The Thing About Marriage Vows...
When you get married and you say, "I do," that's a response to a "yes or no" question. Are you in this thing 'til death do you part, or not? It's not conditional. You are typically not given the option of saying, "I do, as long as she keeps all of her vows perfectly and as long as she doesn't get fat. Otherwise, I can jump ship if I want."
No, each of you affirms vows to each other, but independently of each other.
So, what happens when one of you breaks your vows? Does the other one have the right to leave? I don't think so. They have no more of a right to leave than if their spouse never cheated. Why? Because of their own vow not to leave.
If my husband cheats on me (which he has), that's one issue, but I made my own promise to him never to leave. That's sort of what that "in good times and bad, for better or worse" part was about.
I know there are lots of folks out there who believe that infidelity is sufficient reason to break that vow and take off. Heck, even the Bible says it's o.k. to get divorced over infidelity, not that you have to, but you can if you want. Clearly, though, I don't believe in that tit for tat perspective, especially when it comes to marriage, families, and children.
To those people who use the argument that if a spouse cheats it's o.k. to divorce them because they broke the vows first, I ask you this: What about the other vows? Most marriage vows include a promise to love, honor, and cherish your spouse. Well, I have seen many men (and women, for that matter) treating their spouses in a way that is demonstrating that they clearly don't honor and cherish them. It should be o.k. to get out of the marriage because that was a break of the vows, right?
No? Where are the Marriage Vow Police when you need them?
Apparently, it's only that pesky sexual infidelity issue that gives you a "Get Out of Marital Jail Free" card. But only in the minds of those who are unwilling to accept responsibility for their own actions and their own promises. I wonder if they operate that way in the rest of life. Is the value of their word always contingent on the behavior of others?
Human beings are just that - human. We don't always "cherish" our spouses as we should. We're not always faithful. But families stay together because we depend on our spouse to honor the "'Til death do us part" part of the vows even when we fail, and our spouse hopes that we'll do the same when they fall short.
My belief is that the contingencies should have been reviewed prior to the marriage, at least for those things that could reasonably happen. If she becomes permanently disabled, will you stay? If she cheats, will you stay? If not, maybe you shouldn't get married. Or add that to your vows. Make a promise to stay with her 'til death do you part, unless she's unfaithful. Say that while you're in the church, in your tux, in front of your friends and family. No? You don't want to do that? Huh.
Now I'm not finding fault with anyone who is divorced. People get divorced for all sorts of reasons and they usually think their reasons are good enough. That's not my business. But to the folks who think that infidelity is a no questions asked release valve, please tell yourself (and your spouse and your children) the truth - regardless what your spouse did or didn't do, you made a vow that you're not willing to honor, and that's why you're leaving.
As for me, the "'til death do us part" vow was, and is, the most important one. It means that I'm in it for the duration. It means that Hubby knows I'll be there for him when he falters, intentionally or not. When I found out about Hubby's cheating, I knew I wouldn't be leaving, and that's the first thing I told him in response. I said, "I'm not going anywhere. This will all be o.k." When he found out about mine, that's what he said to me. You're either in this thing together or your not.
Someone who is looking for an excuse to leave the marriage will find one, regardless of what his spouse has or hasn't done.
No, each of you affirms vows to each other, but independently of each other.
So, what happens when one of you breaks your vows? Does the other one have the right to leave? I don't think so. They have no more of a right to leave than if their spouse never cheated. Why? Because of their own vow not to leave.
If my husband cheats on me (which he has), that's one issue, but I made my own promise to him never to leave. That's sort of what that "in good times and bad, for better or worse" part was about.
I know there are lots of folks out there who believe that infidelity is sufficient reason to break that vow and take off. Heck, even the Bible says it's o.k. to get divorced over infidelity, not that you have to, but you can if you want. Clearly, though, I don't believe in that tit for tat perspective, especially when it comes to marriage, families, and children.
To those people who use the argument that if a spouse cheats it's o.k. to divorce them because they broke the vows first, I ask you this: What about the other vows? Most marriage vows include a promise to love, honor, and cherish your spouse. Well, I have seen many men (and women, for that matter) treating their spouses in a way that is demonstrating that they clearly don't honor and cherish them. It should be o.k. to get out of the marriage because that was a break of the vows, right?
No? Where are the Marriage Vow Police when you need them?
Apparently, it's only that pesky sexual infidelity issue that gives you a "Get Out of Marital Jail Free" card. But only in the minds of those who are unwilling to accept responsibility for their own actions and their own promises. I wonder if they operate that way in the rest of life. Is the value of their word always contingent on the behavior of others?
Human beings are just that - human. We don't always "cherish" our spouses as we should. We're not always faithful. But families stay together because we depend on our spouse to honor the "'Til death do us part" part of the vows even when we fail, and our spouse hopes that we'll do the same when they fall short.
My belief is that the contingencies should have been reviewed prior to the marriage, at least for those things that could reasonably happen. If she becomes permanently disabled, will you stay? If she cheats, will you stay? If not, maybe you shouldn't get married. Or add that to your vows. Make a promise to stay with her 'til death do you part, unless she's unfaithful. Say that while you're in the church, in your tux, in front of your friends and family. No? You don't want to do that? Huh.
Now I'm not finding fault with anyone who is divorced. People get divorced for all sorts of reasons and they usually think their reasons are good enough. That's not my business. But to the folks who think that infidelity is a no questions asked release valve, please tell yourself (and your spouse and your children) the truth - regardless what your spouse did or didn't do, you made a vow that you're not willing to honor, and that's why you're leaving.
As for me, the "'til death do us part" vow was, and is, the most important one. It means that I'm in it for the duration. It means that Hubby knows I'll be there for him when he falters, intentionally or not. When I found out about Hubby's cheating, I knew I wouldn't be leaving, and that's the first thing I told him in response. I said, "I'm not going anywhere. This will all be o.k." When he found out about mine, that's what he said to me. You're either in this thing together or your not.
Someone who is looking for an excuse to leave the marriage will find one, regardless of what his spouse has or hasn't done.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Now That's My Kind of Present!
Have I mentioned that I love presents? Well, HH and Lola, of My Sex Life With Lola, shared these two very nice photos with me, but they are really presents for all of you, Prowlers.
Instead of telling the back story myself, here's what HH wrote:
"Here's a couple of new and special pics from Lo. She was all dolled up to go out on the town and then I told her that I had a little present for her. I told her it was under the tree and she had to look for it. She immediately got down. I snapped this pic quickly and then gave her the present - from behind."
Enjoy! And then visit their blog - http://mysexlifewithlola.com/
Instead of telling the back story myself, here's what HH wrote:
"Here's a couple of new and special pics from Lo. She was all dolled up to go out on the town and then I told her that I had a little present for her. I told her it was under the tree and she had to look for it. She immediately got down. I snapped this pic quickly and then gave her the present - from behind."
Enjoy! And then visit their blog - http://mysexlifewithlola.com/
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Is Sex Important?
It seems like a silly question, doesn't it? Of course sex is important. The problem is how important it is.
Most men think it's more important than it really is, and most women think it's less important than it really is. It's that gap that leads to a lot of unhappiness in marriage and a good portion of the infidelity in the world.
On the other side of the coin, most men think that sexual infidelity is much less significant than it really is and most woman think it's more significant than it really is. It's that gap that leads to a lot of divorces.
So how do men and women who stay married for decades navigate these murky waters? Some stay together in an unhappy and often sexless (or sexually unsatisfying) marriage. Some cheat. Some decide to try the open marriage option. Some hang on as long as they can before eventually divorcing. Some choose to talk about it openly, acknowledge the difficulty, and work constantly toward a resolution that is not just acceptable, but satisfying for both of them. No matter how you slice it, it's not easy.
I think the trick is to remember that your spouse sees it differently than you do. There is no point in trying to convince him that sex shouldn't be as important to him because you will fail. Why? Because it is important to him! And there's also no point, Gentlemen, in trying to convince your wife that sex should be more important to her.
Men are also at a disadvantage because women talk to each other. And what do they tell each other about sex? That their husbands want it too much, that they think it's more important than it really is. As they talk, they reinforce their own perspectives and miss the obvious - No matter what your girlfriends say, if your husband says he needs more sex to be happy and you want him to be happy (which you do or why would you have married him?), then you should be having more sex with him. It's pretty simple, isn't it? Unless his dick is chasing you several times a day, every day, what's the problem?
Remember my friend, Steve? He told me once that he was having a discussion, again, with his wife about the frequency of sex. He wanted it three times a week, but he could he happy with twice. His wife told him that she had talked about it with her friends and they told her that he was being completely unreasonable because no one who had been married as long as they had been married (40 years) had sex that often. She actually put the opinion of her friends ahead of her own husband's happiness, mostly because it reinforced what she wanted anyway. She also told him that women her age shouldn't have to have sex anymore. Seriously. And then she wondered why he cheated. She thought that because sex was unimportant to her that it shouldn't be important to him, either.
What women like Steve's wife don't understand is that women generally enjoy sex more if they have an emotional connection with someone. Men, on the other hand, are more likely to slide into, or stay with, an emotional connection if they have their sexual needs met. Both parties have to give in order to get what they want. Do you think this is an accident? I don't. I am pretty certain that we were made this way. Men and women complement each other physically (insert tab A into slot B), emotionally, and in many other ways. The more a wife tries to make her husband like her ("once a month should be enough") or the more a husband tries to make his wife like him ("I don't care if you worked all day, made dinner, cared for the kids and cleaned until 10:00 pm., let's get it on!"), the more trouble they will encounter.
The real danger comes when each starts to think there is something wrong with the other for not having the same needs. A man wanting to have sex is perfectly normal. And if your husband wants to have sex with you after decades of being married, count yourself very fortunate, Ladies. If you give him grief for it, you're just pretty stupid in my opinion, or you really want a divorce.
I've known women who were unhappy in their marriages and they pushed their husbands away sexually. Then, when he cheated and they ended up divorced, the women acted like the victims. I'm not saying that infidelity is morally defensible, but there are two sides to every divorce and the sad "victim" is usually not a real victim at all.
If you're a woman and you don't want your husband to cheat, you need to recognize that sex matters to him and you need to give him some good sex. Notice I said "good sex." You may also want to read 10 Tips for Wives to Keep Your Husband from Cheating. There's no guarantee that he won't cheat, but the odds are better if you take the suggestions I offer in that post.
If you're a man and you want your wife to give you more sex - and good sex - you need to back off a bit and come in from a different angle. Remember that she doesn't understand the how and why of how important sex is to you. Court her. Make that emotional connection and then go for the sex. This is a much more complex topic than this post can cover, so I'll write another. In the meantime, read What Women Really Want in Bed, and remember that to a woman, pressure is the anti-aphrodisiac.
******************************
Don't forget to check out this month's Sex Blog Chain post. It's about Holiday Sex!
Most men think it's more important than it really is, and most women think it's less important than it really is. It's that gap that leads to a lot of unhappiness in marriage and a good portion of the infidelity in the world.
On the other side of the coin, most men think that sexual infidelity is much less significant than it really is and most woman think it's more significant than it really is. It's that gap that leads to a lot of divorces.
So how do men and women who stay married for decades navigate these murky waters? Some stay together in an unhappy and often sexless (or sexually unsatisfying) marriage. Some cheat. Some decide to try the open marriage option. Some hang on as long as they can before eventually divorcing. Some choose to talk about it openly, acknowledge the difficulty, and work constantly toward a resolution that is not just acceptable, but satisfying for both of them. No matter how you slice it, it's not easy.
I think the trick is to remember that your spouse sees it differently than you do. There is no point in trying to convince him that sex shouldn't be as important to him because you will fail. Why? Because it is important to him! And there's also no point, Gentlemen, in trying to convince your wife that sex should be more important to her.
Men are also at a disadvantage because women talk to each other. And what do they tell each other about sex? That their husbands want it too much, that they think it's more important than it really is. As they talk, they reinforce their own perspectives and miss the obvious - No matter what your girlfriends say, if your husband says he needs more sex to be happy and you want him to be happy (which you do or why would you have married him?), then you should be having more sex with him. It's pretty simple, isn't it? Unless his dick is chasing you several times a day, every day, what's the problem?
Remember my friend, Steve? He told me once that he was having a discussion, again, with his wife about the frequency of sex. He wanted it three times a week, but he could he happy with twice. His wife told him that she had talked about it with her friends and they told her that he was being completely unreasonable because no one who had been married as long as they had been married (40 years) had sex that often. She actually put the opinion of her friends ahead of her own husband's happiness, mostly because it reinforced what she wanted anyway. She also told him that women her age shouldn't have to have sex anymore. Seriously. And then she wondered why he cheated. She thought that because sex was unimportant to her that it shouldn't be important to him, either.
What women like Steve's wife don't understand is that women generally enjoy sex more if they have an emotional connection with someone. Men, on the other hand, are more likely to slide into, or stay with, an emotional connection if they have their sexual needs met. Both parties have to give in order to get what they want. Do you think this is an accident? I don't. I am pretty certain that we were made this way. Men and women complement each other physically (insert tab A into slot B), emotionally, and in many other ways. The more a wife tries to make her husband like her ("once a month should be enough") or the more a husband tries to make his wife like him ("I don't care if you worked all day, made dinner, cared for the kids and cleaned until 10:00 pm., let's get it on!"), the more trouble they will encounter.
The real danger comes when each starts to think there is something wrong with the other for not having the same needs. A man wanting to have sex is perfectly normal. And if your husband wants to have sex with you after decades of being married, count yourself very fortunate, Ladies. If you give him grief for it, you're just pretty stupid in my opinion, or you really want a divorce.
I've known women who were unhappy in their marriages and they pushed their husbands away sexually. Then, when he cheated and they ended up divorced, the women acted like the victims. I'm not saying that infidelity is morally defensible, but there are two sides to every divorce and the sad "victim" is usually not a real victim at all.
If you're a woman and you don't want your husband to cheat, you need to recognize that sex matters to him and you need to give him some good sex. Notice I said "good sex." You may also want to read 10 Tips for Wives to Keep Your Husband from Cheating. There's no guarantee that he won't cheat, but the odds are better if you take the suggestions I offer in that post.
If you're a man and you want your wife to give you more sex - and good sex - you need to back off a bit and come in from a different angle. Remember that she doesn't understand the how and why of how important sex is to you. Court her. Make that emotional connection and then go for the sex. This is a much more complex topic than this post can cover, so I'll write another. In the meantime, read What Women Really Want in Bed, and remember that to a woman, pressure is the anti-aphrodisiac.
******************************
Don't forget to check out this month's Sex Blog Chain post. It's about Holiday Sex!
Kat Confessions - #1 Fucking the Teacher for a Grade
I thought it might be fun to start a new feature called Kat Confessions. I have plenty of secrets. Yes, I even have secrets I haven't shared with you, Prowlers. I thought I'd start with the time I fucked my way to a passing grade in a class.
I was a freshman in college. The course was Calculus. Before I go any further, I need to say that I have since mastered the subject, but at the time it made no sense to me at all. I was really struggling, so the day before the deadline for dropping classes I went to the professor to let him know I'd be dropping the course.
He tried to talk me out of it. I did the best I could to explain to him that I could not afford to fail the class. I participated in some activities for which I had to maintain academic eligibility, and one of those was tied to scholarships. I wasn't going to let calculus interfere with that.
Then he said, "What if I could guarantee you a passing grade?"
"How could you do that?" I asked.
He proceeded to tell me he would guarantee me a passing grade if I came to every single class session (not even one absence), turned in every single assignment, took every single test and quiz, and attended every small group tutoring session (offered five days a week in his office).
I clarified, "So even if I fail every test, I'll still get a passing grade as long as I do those things?"
"Yes," he said. "And one more thing....."
He paused. I got nervous. I was afraid he was going to say that I had to show positive progress over the semester (seriously, I had no clue what was going on in that class), so you can imagine how I relieved I was when he said that he wanted me to sleep with him once a week throughout the semester. That was the final requirement.
His inclusion of the sex part didn't come out of the blue. A couple of weeks before, I ran into him at a party. I was drunk. He was charming, and he had a British accent. Girls can't resist men with foreign accents. He was substantially older than me; I had just turned 18 and he had to be in his late 40's. But when he offered me a ride home as I was stumbling out of the party, the age difference didn't bother me at all. As he was driving toward my dorm, he asked, "Would you mind if we went to my place instead?"
There was a tiny voice inside me that was whispering that it might not be a great idea to fuck my calculus professor, but I arrogantly thought that I was a wise and worldly woman, so I agreed.
He lived about 40 minutes from campus, up in the mountains. The drive gave me plenty of time to start sobering up, which was disappointing because now I couldn't fool myself into thinking that I was drunk and unable to make rational decisions. No, I was heading fast to the sober side of the stream of thought and I was about to fuck my calculus professor. I turned and looked at him. Yes, he had a British accent. Yes, he was smart. But he really wasn't very attractive, at least not to an 18 year oldgirl woman. I remember thinking, I really hope he has a big dick.
We got to his house, which was really more like a cottage, a darling little place, and we went inside. He asked if I wanted some tea. I didn't. He pointed to the other room and said, "The bathroom is in there. The bed is over there. You can hang your clothes on that chair. I'll be in shortly." No pretense of romance. No getting in the mood. Okay. I took off my clothes and crawled into bed. A few minutes later, he came in with a cup of tea in his hand. He sat on the edge of the bed and drank his tea, making small talk. I can't even remember what he was talking about, but the whole situation seemed strange to me.
When he was finished with his tea, he stood up and took off his clothes and switched on the overhead light. Up until then, the only light had been from a lamp in the next room and the light in the kitchen. The light was so blinding that I covered my eyes. Then he pulled the covers off the bed so I had nothing to hide under. He stood there looking at me for a moment and he said, "Well, Miss Kat, I'm going to enjoy fucking you."
That's when I noticed his cock. It was erect, of course, but that's not the first thing I noticed. Damn, I thought. Average. It wasn't a bad cock, but I really had been hoping for something spectacular.
I scooched over to the edge of the bed where he was standing and I took his cock into my mouth and started sucking him. He exhaled loudly and grabbed me by the hair, guiding me to take him in deeply and come back until only the very tip was on my lips, then deeply again. He started moving me faster on him and moaning and I thought he was going to cum in my mouth, but instead he roughly pulled me off his cock and lifted his arm in the air so I was pulled up high on my knees and back a little. My hands were grasping for his hand to take the pressure off my scalp. My back was arched. My tits were thrust forward. I felt completely exposed in that brightly lit room. And for the first time, I was scared.
"You're too good at that, Kat," he said. "I don't want to cum yet. Not like that anyway." He pulled my hair tighter. Was he really punishing me for being too good at giving head? I was confused.
He finally released me and pushed me back, telling me to lay on my back. As soon as I did, he grabbed my legs and pulled me to the edge of the bed. The height of the bed was perfect (I was sure that was no accident) and he slid inside me as he tugged me to closer to him one more time. I squealed a bit in shock, but he shot a chastising glance at me so I became quiet quickly. He grasped my ankles and spread my legs wide apart, and he started fucking me. It was slow at first, but within a couple of minutes it was forceful and violent.
He told me to keep my eyes on his. I was surprised at how uncomfortable that felt. All I wanted to do was look away. Then he told me to pinch my nipples. And he fucked me harder.
I was there for about 6 hours and I did everything he told me to do. At times, he'd lay down to nap a bit. When he did, he told me to kneel on the floor next to the bed, back a few feet so he could see me, with my knees spread wide apart and my hands clasped behind my neck. I could feel his cum dripping down my thighs, but I didn't dare move. When he woke up, he'd call me back to bed, tell me what to do, and he'd fuck me again.
As the sun was coming up, he came in my ass and then he told me to get dressed. I hurried to grab my clothes and I started getting dressed. He snapped at me, "No panties." He held out his hand and I handed him my panties. Then I headed toward the bathroom. He snapped at me again, "You can pee, but no cleaning up. I want my cum to be dripping out of you for awhile. And leave the door open."
What the fuck? I thought. This guy was weird, but it was kind of hot, too. I really wasn't sure what to think.
We went out to his car and before I got in, he told me to be sure to pull my skirt down far enough so I didn't get any cum on the seat. As we were driving down the mountain, he told me to give him my bra. I did.
As we approached campus, I reminded him what dorm to take me to, but he dropped me instead at the other end of campus, beyond the dining hall. When I asked him why, he said, "Give me your shoes. You can pick them up in my office later." I was still confused. Then he leaned over close to me and said, almost whispering, "Now, Kat, as you walk back to your dorm wearing the same clothes you wore last night, but without shoes, bra, or panties....and with my cum dripping out of your pussy and ass and running slowly down your thighs, I want you to think about what a slut you are. And as you walk by everyone heading to the dining hall for breakfast, I want you to think about how they know you're just coming in from a night of being fucked like a whore. Walk slowly, and think about that."
Then he kissed me - a deep, passionate kiss, the only kiss of the "date." After the kiss he said, "You really are a good fuck." I got out of the car and walked slowly back to my dorm, just as he told me to. My thighs and eventually my calves, too, were slick and wet with his cum. I saw a group of girls looking at me and whispering to each other. I saw several guys just starting at me as I completed my walk of shame. When I got back to my dorm, I went straight to the shower.
So, when he included weekly sex in his "offer" of help with my grade a couple of weeks later, I knew exactly what I was getting into. I knew he wasn't just going to use my body, but I'd be getting weekly mind fucking as well.
I needed a few minutes to think about it. If I just dropped calculus, I'd have to take it again, and I'd be right here in this same position. But if I took it, I had to pass. Failure could not be an option. And I knew there was only way I was going to pass. I told him ok.
There were ten weeks left in the semester at that point. I attended every class, did every assignment, took every test and quiz (and failed them all), and attended every small group tutoring session. And every Thursday night at 7:00 I drove up to his house and did whatever he wanted me to do until 7:00 a.m. Three times, there was another girl there when I showed up, and he played with both of us and had us play with each other. Once, I had a chance to chat with her when it wasn't Thursday night. I ran into her at the library and we found a private place to talk and it turned out that she had a similar arrangement with him, but she wasn't handling it so well. To me, it was like a business arrangement. To her, it was.....something very ugly and humiliating.
There were three weeks left in the semester. I went to his office one afternoon and told him to let her out of the deal - just give her the passing grade and let her go. He said, "I will, but only if you cover her sessions, plus three more." That would mean that when we started the new semester, after winter break, I would have to do six more sessions with him. "But you let her go now, right? She can stop going to class, everything, and she gets a passing grade." He smiled and nodded his head. I felt relieved. "Okay then," I said. "I'll see you in class," and I left his office and went to tell her. She cried. We stayed good friends for years, and we did more than a few threesomes together.
The semester ended and grades came out. I got a C. Damn him, I thought. Couldn't he have given me a B? That was the first and only C of my life. I had been a straight A student - until then. I couldn't really fault him, though. A "C" was a passing grade and that's what he had agreed. It occurred to me that I could have negotiated that grade to be an "A" back when we were first striking the deal, but I clearly wasn't smart enough.
I called my friend. She got her C, too. She was just glad it was over. To be honest, so was I, except that it wasn't completely over for me, but the hard part was.
I went home for Christmas break and when I came back to campus there was a note in my mailbox. It was unsigned. All it said was, "You owe me six sessions. I'll see you Thursday at 7:00."
**********************
If you missed the December Sex Blog post on Holiday Sex, find it here.
I was a freshman in college. The course was Calculus. Before I go any further, I need to say that I have since mastered the subject, but at the time it made no sense to me at all. I was really struggling, so the day before the deadline for dropping classes I went to the professor to let him know I'd be dropping the course.
He tried to talk me out of it. I did the best I could to explain to him that I could not afford to fail the class. I participated in some activities for which I had to maintain academic eligibility, and one of those was tied to scholarships. I wasn't going to let calculus interfere with that.
Then he said, "What if I could guarantee you a passing grade?"
"How could you do that?" I asked.
He proceeded to tell me he would guarantee me a passing grade if I came to every single class session (not even one absence), turned in every single assignment, took every single test and quiz, and attended every small group tutoring session (offered five days a week in his office).
I clarified, "So even if I fail every test, I'll still get a passing grade as long as I do those things?"
"Yes," he said. "And one more thing....."
He paused. I got nervous. I was afraid he was going to say that I had to show positive progress over the semester (seriously, I had no clue what was going on in that class), so you can imagine how I relieved I was when he said that he wanted me to sleep with him once a week throughout the semester. That was the final requirement.
His inclusion of the sex part didn't come out of the blue. A couple of weeks before, I ran into him at a party. I was drunk. He was charming, and he had a British accent. Girls can't resist men with foreign accents. He was substantially older than me; I had just turned 18 and he had to be in his late 40's. But when he offered me a ride home as I was stumbling out of the party, the age difference didn't bother me at all. As he was driving toward my dorm, he asked, "Would you mind if we went to my place instead?"
There was a tiny voice inside me that was whispering that it might not be a great idea to fuck my calculus professor, but I arrogantly thought that I was a wise and worldly woman, so I agreed.
He lived about 40 minutes from campus, up in the mountains. The drive gave me plenty of time to start sobering up, which was disappointing because now I couldn't fool myself into thinking that I was drunk and unable to make rational decisions. No, I was heading fast to the sober side of the stream of thought and I was about to fuck my calculus professor. I turned and looked at him. Yes, he had a British accent. Yes, he was smart. But he really wasn't very attractive, at least not to an 18 year old
We got to his house, which was really more like a cottage, a darling little place, and we went inside. He asked if I wanted some tea. I didn't. He pointed to the other room and said, "The bathroom is in there. The bed is over there. You can hang your clothes on that chair. I'll be in shortly." No pretense of romance. No getting in the mood. Okay. I took off my clothes and crawled into bed. A few minutes later, he came in with a cup of tea in his hand. He sat on the edge of the bed and drank his tea, making small talk. I can't even remember what he was talking about, but the whole situation seemed strange to me.
When he was finished with his tea, he stood up and took off his clothes and switched on the overhead light. Up until then, the only light had been from a lamp in the next room and the light in the kitchen. The light was so blinding that I covered my eyes. Then he pulled the covers off the bed so I had nothing to hide under. He stood there looking at me for a moment and he said, "Well, Miss Kat, I'm going to enjoy fucking you."
That's when I noticed his cock. It was erect, of course, but that's not the first thing I noticed. Damn, I thought. Average. It wasn't a bad cock, but I really had been hoping for something spectacular.
I scooched over to the edge of the bed where he was standing and I took his cock into my mouth and started sucking him. He exhaled loudly and grabbed me by the hair, guiding me to take him in deeply and come back until only the very tip was on my lips, then deeply again. He started moving me faster on him and moaning and I thought he was going to cum in my mouth, but instead he roughly pulled me off his cock and lifted his arm in the air so I was pulled up high on my knees and back a little. My hands were grasping for his hand to take the pressure off my scalp. My back was arched. My tits were thrust forward. I felt completely exposed in that brightly lit room. And for the first time, I was scared.
"You're too good at that, Kat," he said. "I don't want to cum yet. Not like that anyway." He pulled my hair tighter. Was he really punishing me for being too good at giving head? I was confused.
He finally released me and pushed me back, telling me to lay on my back. As soon as I did, he grabbed my legs and pulled me to the edge of the bed. The height of the bed was perfect (I was sure that was no accident) and he slid inside me as he tugged me to closer to him one more time. I squealed a bit in shock, but he shot a chastising glance at me so I became quiet quickly. He grasped my ankles and spread my legs wide apart, and he started fucking me. It was slow at first, but within a couple of minutes it was forceful and violent.
He told me to keep my eyes on his. I was surprised at how uncomfortable that felt. All I wanted to do was look away. Then he told me to pinch my nipples. And he fucked me harder.
I was there for about 6 hours and I did everything he told me to do. At times, he'd lay down to nap a bit. When he did, he told me to kneel on the floor next to the bed, back a few feet so he could see me, with my knees spread wide apart and my hands clasped behind my neck. I could feel his cum dripping down my thighs, but I didn't dare move. When he woke up, he'd call me back to bed, tell me what to do, and he'd fuck me again.
As the sun was coming up, he came in my ass and then he told me to get dressed. I hurried to grab my clothes and I started getting dressed. He snapped at me, "No panties." He held out his hand and I handed him my panties. Then I headed toward the bathroom. He snapped at me again, "You can pee, but no cleaning up. I want my cum to be dripping out of you for awhile. And leave the door open."
What the fuck? I thought. This guy was weird, but it was kind of hot, too. I really wasn't sure what to think.
We went out to his car and before I got in, he told me to be sure to pull my skirt down far enough so I didn't get any cum on the seat. As we were driving down the mountain, he told me to give him my bra. I did.
As we approached campus, I reminded him what dorm to take me to, but he dropped me instead at the other end of campus, beyond the dining hall. When I asked him why, he said, "Give me your shoes. You can pick them up in my office later." I was still confused. Then he leaned over close to me and said, almost whispering, "Now, Kat, as you walk back to your dorm wearing the same clothes you wore last night, but without shoes, bra, or panties....and with my cum dripping out of your pussy and ass and running slowly down your thighs, I want you to think about what a slut you are. And as you walk by everyone heading to the dining hall for breakfast, I want you to think about how they know you're just coming in from a night of being fucked like a whore. Walk slowly, and think about that."
Then he kissed me - a deep, passionate kiss, the only kiss of the "date." After the kiss he said, "You really are a good fuck." I got out of the car and walked slowly back to my dorm, just as he told me to. My thighs and eventually my calves, too, were slick and wet with his cum. I saw a group of girls looking at me and whispering to each other. I saw several guys just starting at me as I completed my walk of shame. When I got back to my dorm, I went straight to the shower.
So, when he included weekly sex in his "offer" of help with my grade a couple of weeks later, I knew exactly what I was getting into. I knew he wasn't just going to use my body, but I'd be getting weekly mind fucking as well.
I needed a few minutes to think about it. If I just dropped calculus, I'd have to take it again, and I'd be right here in this same position. But if I took it, I had to pass. Failure could not be an option. And I knew there was only way I was going to pass. I told him ok.
There were ten weeks left in the semester at that point. I attended every class, did every assignment, took every test and quiz (and failed them all), and attended every small group tutoring session. And every Thursday night at 7:00 I drove up to his house and did whatever he wanted me to do until 7:00 a.m. Three times, there was another girl there when I showed up, and he played with both of us and had us play with each other. Once, I had a chance to chat with her when it wasn't Thursday night. I ran into her at the library and we found a private place to talk and it turned out that she had a similar arrangement with him, but she wasn't handling it so well. To me, it was like a business arrangement. To her, it was.....something very ugly and humiliating.
There were three weeks left in the semester. I went to his office one afternoon and told him to let her out of the deal - just give her the passing grade and let her go. He said, "I will, but only if you cover her sessions, plus three more." That would mean that when we started the new semester, after winter break, I would have to do six more sessions with him. "But you let her go now, right? She can stop going to class, everything, and she gets a passing grade." He smiled and nodded his head. I felt relieved. "Okay then," I said. "I'll see you in class," and I left his office and went to tell her. She cried. We stayed good friends for years, and we did more than a few threesomes together.
The semester ended and grades came out. I got a C. Damn him, I thought. Couldn't he have given me a B? That was the first and only C of my life. I had been a straight A student - until then. I couldn't really fault him, though. A "C" was a passing grade and that's what he had agreed. It occurred to me that I could have negotiated that grade to be an "A" back when we were first striking the deal, but I clearly wasn't smart enough.
I called my friend. She got her C, too. She was just glad it was over. To be honest, so was I, except that it wasn't completely over for me, but the hard part was.
I went home for Christmas break and when I came back to campus there was a note in my mailbox. It was unsigned. All it said was, "You owe me six sessions. I'll see you Thursday at 7:00."
**********************
If you missed the December Sex Blog post on Holiday Sex, find it here.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Holiday Sex - December Sex Blog Chain
What better topic for our December Sex Blog Chain than Holiday Sex?
Let's start with Max's contribution from Thoughts of a Mystic Satyr. Have you ever had the experience of drinking a little too much at the office Christmas party and then leaving with a colleague? Max has, and he writes about in his post Office Party. This is a three part post, so after you read the first one, be sure to continue with the next two. By the end of part 2, I was tasting my fingers, too.
Same Sassy Girl links us to her Holiday Sex with Philip as her entry this month. It's very hot and very sweet. Did I mention it's really hot?
Now how's this for efficient? Advizor, author of Free Advice is Worth What You Pay for It, combined his Holiday Sex post with his TMI Tuesday post. I smiled at his list of things that have put him on Santa's naughty list this year. He's definitely my kind of guy.
Ryan Beaumont definitely rose to the occasion this month by writing about food, football, and fucking in the Big Easy like no one else ever could in his post Don't Let Her Catch You With A Care.
If you missed my post on Thanksgiving Vacation Sex, you may want to take a look. Who said the holiday in Holiday Sex had to be Christmas?
If you want to catch up on the Sex Blog Chain posts of the past, all of the links are here. Please share this month's post with others.
If you're a blogger and you'd like to join us next month, the Sex Blog Chain page has all the detials you need. We'd love to have you!
Let's start with Max's contribution from Thoughts of a Mystic Satyr. Have you ever had the experience of drinking a little too much at the office Christmas party and then leaving with a colleague? Max has, and he writes about in his post Office Party. This is a three part post, so after you read the first one, be sure to continue with the next two. By the end of part 2, I was tasting my fingers, too.
Same Sassy Girl links us to her Holiday Sex with Philip as her entry this month. It's very hot and very sweet. Did I mention it's really hot?
Now how's this for efficient? Advizor, author of Free Advice is Worth What You Pay for It, combined his Holiday Sex post with his TMI Tuesday post. I smiled at his list of things that have put him on Santa's naughty list this year. He's definitely my kind of guy.
Ryan Beaumont definitely rose to the occasion this month by writing about food, football, and fucking in the Big Easy like no one else ever could in his post Don't Let Her Catch You With A Care.
If you missed my post on Thanksgiving Vacation Sex, you may want to take a look. Who said the holiday in Holiday Sex had to be Christmas?
*********************
If you want to catch up on the Sex Blog Chain posts of the past, all of the links are here. Please share this month's post with others.
If you're a blogger and you'd like to join us next month, the Sex Blog Chain page has all the detials you need. We'd love to have you!
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