Some very interesting things have been happening at home, Prowlers. Unfortunately, I can't share them all with you because, well, I just can't, but I will share the biggest one.
I'll just jump in and say it. I'll be starting a phone sex site soon - with Hubby's blessing!
I know! You are shocked, aren't you? Here's what happened....
Hubby has been bitching at me a lot lately to bring in more money. At the same time, he's doing things that make it nearly impossible for me to do so. Part of the reason we're in this position is because I quit doing the kind of work that brought in obscene amounts of money because I decided to only do work that I actually like. The stress of the other was killing me, almost literally. It's his opinion that I made the change that cut my income (which is the income that supports us, by the way) so I should do something to fix it.
I thought and I thought. I made a list of things I would like to do that could bring in some additional money, in addition to the freelance writing I currently do. Phone sex was on the top of that list.
I'm good at it. I enjoy it. And there is potential to make some decent money, particularly if you open your own business, rather than work for someone else.
I took the idea to Hubby and he was initially angry. Then I told him I was serious and I asked him to think about it. A few days later we discussed it again. He said one of his concerns was that I would use it as a way to meet men.
Hahahahahaha.
I said, "Do you really think I have trouble finding men?" He agreed that was a very silly argument.
Then we started talking particulars - formats, services, costs, earning potential, how we could work out schedules at home (child care, etc.) Of course, I had done my research. He asked a few questions I couldn't answer, so I agreed to do some more research and he was going to think about it some more. When we came back together again, I had his answers, and I assured him that I wouldn't do it behind his back. We both needed to be 100% on board with it or I wouldn't do it. I also told him that if he nixed it, I'd like him to do some research about how we can bring in more cash. Then, he agreed.
So, KatCalls Phone Sex and Text Chat Service should be up an running in a week or so, maybe a bit longer. I'll have phone, SMS, text chat and email services, but unfortunately, no cam. Cam services will still be reserved for my very closest friends, and always free.
As you know, though, I can't advertise through PWK because Google has a policy that no Blogger sites can make money off anything related to sex. The truth is that even though Blogger allows Adult (over 18) sites, it doesn't like us and the day may be coming when you'll all see that sad little "504 - Page Not Found" message when you type in the URL. So, I'll be making the shift to self-hosting within a month or so. Don't worry, you'll have plenty of notice.
In the meantime, if you would like me to email you information about KatCalls (or whatever I may re-mane it) when it is up and running, please send me an email through my profile here, and I'll send you the information and some free minutes. If you are a phone sex operator and you have some advice for me, please send an email, too. I'll take all the help I can get!
Someone asked me yesterday if PWK will continue being free? Of course! Will there ever be a scenario in which I may add a paid, Members Only area? Maybe, but that is not in the works now and I'll be busy enough with KatCalls for quite a while.
PWK is a special little corner of the universe. For many, it's the only place they can come to be reassured that there is not something wrong with them for needing more than they can get in their marriage. Others use it as a place where they can live the fantasy here and stay faithful at home. I met my best friend here, not to mention many other really wonderful people.
Change is a-comin'! But it's a good change. I promise.
Showing posts with label Kat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kat. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
On Being 50
I'm 50. There. I said it. I'm 50.
I turned 50 in June and the day came and went without much notice. It didn't feel like a big deal to me at all. It turns out, though, that turning 50 is a little bit like eating that potato salad at the picnic that has been sitting out in the sun for the last hour. No big deal, you think. It's only been in the sun for a little while, and look, everyone else ate some and they are just fine. So you eat it, still thinking it's ok, until later that night when your insides are telling you that something might just be a bit different than you were expecting.
It hit me one day in July at the doctor's office. The barely-weaned medical assistant was asking me the same question she has asked for the last year every time I see her. She asked for my birth date and age (because apparently, they can't figure out my age from my birth date on their own). I gave her my birthday and then I said, "50." Then it seemed like everything was going in slow motion for a moment and I heard myself saying, "Wait? Did I say 50?" Bambi looked at me, confused, and then consulted her paper. "Yes, 50. Is that right?"
My first thought was, "No! That's very wrong! When did that happen? When did I turn 50? When did I officially become middle aged?" All I said, though, was a simple, "Yes."
It hit me again a week later. I was at the doctor's office again, seeing a specialist I have been seeing for many years. Everything was going as I expected, until he was wrapping things up and he handed me a flyer and said, "We have a class coming for our older patients on tips for managing their condition." I looked at the flyer and it said "For Patients in the Twilight Years" and I pushed his hand with the flyer away and I said, "What the fuck? I saw you a month ago and you didn't think I should go to the old people classes then!" The poor guy looked very confused, and then he said, "But you're 50 now. You can go." You see, he thought of the old folks classes as a benefit, an extra goodie for which you had to qualify. My problem was my own thinking. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that class. I may even go to see if the old folks have any tricks that I don't know about.
For the most part, I really don't mind being 50. It's all of my preconceived notions about being 50 that I mind. Somewhere along the line I picked up the idea that 50 is the official line of demarcation between young and old. I don't remember anyone ever telling me that, but it's stuck in my brain nonetheless. I remember when I was 30 looking at women who were 50 and above, and that's about when I heard people start to add qualifiers to compliments, but only when the person in question was not around.
For example, 40-year-olds can just get the compliment without the qualifier --- Wow, she's pretty! She's a great dancer! She's got so much energy! Once a woman turns 50, though, the qualifier gets tacked on automatically. Wow, she's pretty for a 50-year-old! She's a great dancer for a 50-year-old! She's got so much energy for a 50-year-old! And the tone changes, too. For the 40-year-old, the compliment is just a statement of admiration, but for a 50-year-old, the tone starts to sound like, "Can you believe it!?!?"
So, I'm 50. I have to tell you, I don't feel old at all. In fact, what I feel (and this has been a trend that started 4-5 years ago) is more confident and more sexual than I've ever felt. Even into my early 40's there were some reservations I had about sex that are long gone now, like I need to make sure that he enjoys sex more than I do and I'd better not show that I like it too much or he'll think I'm a slut and If he's not doing it how I like it I'll just stay quiet because I don't want to embarrass him.
In the last decade, there has a been monumental upheaval in my life -- not all bad -- and my life of today barely resembles my life of 10 years ago. But, for the most part, I like my life (and me!) better than I did when I was 40. I have the best friends of my life and, yes, I've had some of the best sex of my life.
If this is what the 50's are like, keep 'em coming!
I turned 50 in June and the day came and went without much notice. It didn't feel like a big deal to me at all. It turns out, though, that turning 50 is a little bit like eating that potato salad at the picnic that has been sitting out in the sun for the last hour. No big deal, you think. It's only been in the sun for a little while, and look, everyone else ate some and they are just fine. So you eat it, still thinking it's ok, until later that night when your insides are telling you that something might just be a bit different than you were expecting.
It hit me one day in July at the doctor's office. The barely-weaned medical assistant was asking me the same question she has asked for the last year every time I see her. She asked for my birth date and age (because apparently, they can't figure out my age from my birth date on their own). I gave her my birthday and then I said, "50." Then it seemed like everything was going in slow motion for a moment and I heard myself saying, "Wait? Did I say 50?" Bambi looked at me, confused, and then consulted her paper. "Yes, 50. Is that right?"
My first thought was, "No! That's very wrong! When did that happen? When did I turn 50? When did I officially become middle aged?" All I said, though, was a simple, "Yes."
For the most part, I really don't mind being 50. It's all of my preconceived notions about being 50 that I mind. Somewhere along the line I picked up the idea that 50 is the official line of demarcation between young and old. I don't remember anyone ever telling me that, but it's stuck in my brain nonetheless. I remember when I was 30 looking at women who were 50 and above, and that's about when I heard people start to add qualifiers to compliments, but only when the person in question was not around.
For example, 40-year-olds can just get the compliment without the qualifier --- Wow, she's pretty! She's a great dancer! She's got so much energy! Once a woman turns 50, though, the qualifier gets tacked on automatically. Wow, she's pretty for a 50-year-old! She's a great dancer for a 50-year-old! She's got so much energy for a 50-year-old! And the tone changes, too. For the 40-year-old, the compliment is just a statement of admiration, but for a 50-year-old, the tone starts to sound like, "Can you believe it!?!?"
So, I'm 50. I have to tell you, I don't feel old at all. In fact, what I feel (and this has been a trend that started 4-5 years ago) is more confident and more sexual than I've ever felt. Even into my early 40's there were some reservations I had about sex that are long gone now, like I need to make sure that he enjoys sex more than I do and I'd better not show that I like it too much or he'll think I'm a slut and If he's not doing it how I like it I'll just stay quiet because I don't want to embarrass him.
In the last decade, there has a been monumental upheaval in my life -- not all bad -- and my life of today barely resembles my life of 10 years ago. But, for the most part, I like my life (and me!) better than I did when I was 40. I have the best friends of my life and, yes, I've had some of the best sex of my life.
If this is what the 50's are like, keep 'em coming!
Thursday, August 14, 2014
The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 2 of 3)
This is the continuation of The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 1 of 3). You can start here or go back to read part 1 first, as you choose.
*************************
As T was moving between my legs, I tilted my head back and tried to relax. I spread my legs, but was reminded immediately by a shot of pain from my groin injury that I needed to be careful and move slowly. I opened my knees as he slipped his arm under and around my right thigh. I grabbed his hand and held on tightly when I felt the first flick of his tongue on my clit.
I reached between my legs with my other hand and separated my pussy lips for him, giving him more room, and then I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the sensations.
Every now and then I'd catch myself thinking, "Wait. How is he doing that? Is that his tongue? His lips?" and I'd have to pull myself back to the moment or he would do it for me by changing things up a little bit.
In less than two minutes, my body had taken over and I couldn't think about anything. I felt him slide a finger (or two) inside me and I started to shake. I moaned "No!" in protest, but not a no as in "Stop!" but a no as in, "I don't want to come so fast! I want to feel it build for longer." He ignored me and I came hard.
Yes, I know that's hard for you guys. No should mean "No, stop!" right? And it does, usually. Fortunately, T knows me well enough to know that it didn't mean I wanted him to stop. I remember once several months ago when he made come so many times that I was truly in need of a break. My protests did no good so I ended up sitting up and grabbing his hair and pulling him off me. Haha! He can read my body's more subtle signals now, which is very helpful.
With most of the men I've known, an orgasm kind of stops everything for awhile, and then it's time to fuck or play with him or just chat for a bit, but not with T. With him, coming means we're just getting started, and he increases the intensity to the next level.
I squealed a bit as he started sucking on my clit again because it was so, so sensitive. I took a deep breath to try to get over that sensation of a hundred electric needle pricks on my clit, and as I did, I lifted my shoulders a bit so I could look down at him. He was busy at work so I couldn't see much of his face, but I could see his strong shoulders, and his left arm that flexed as he held me tightly in place while my body tried to wiggle away. I could see his mussed black hair that I love to play with, and I could see his lower back and hips that were also moving slightly as he pressed forward, finger fucking me with his right hand. That image of him was so incredibly hot that, coupled with the actions of his hand and mouth, I was about to come again.
I screamed and started shuddering, and he held onto me tighter and did whatever he was doing faster and harder. Unlike the orgasms before this one, this one came on slowly and kept building and building as it spread throughout my body. It didn't start subsiding after 30 seconds and I didn't want to lose it. I wanted to ride it as long as I could. Of course, I didn't need to say anything because he had no intention of stopping.
I lost my sense of time, so I'm not sure how long it was, but it felt like that one kept reverberating through me for five or more minutes and, just as I started to come down, the next one hit. It came hard and suddenly, like an unexpected car collision, and I felt the air being sucked from my lungs as I sat halfway up and screamed. I squeezed his hand harder to steady myself. That one ended as quickly as it came. Within 10 seconds, I had collapsed back on the pillow again. I gasped for some air, trying to recover, but there was no recovery period. T was still going, trying something new and pulling me right back to where he wanted me again. And again.
I'd love to be able to give you detail about exactly what he does to make me so crazy, but I have no idea, really. I know it feels damn good. That's what I know. Maybe we'll get him to write a guest post to share some of his technique, or maybe he'll want to keep it a secret. We'll see.
After all that, I curled up with him and rested my head on his shoulder....and I wanted to nap. That's the truth, but I wasn't about to waste a moment of our time with sleep. We chatted a bit, about everything and nothing. And we kissed. A lot. It was almost time to go, but I don't think either of us wanted to stop.
Then I felt it. I reached down to be sure. He was hard again. We both smiled, ready for more.
To be continued.....
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 1 of 3)
I was already in my car and on my way to the hotel when I got his text. "Rm 139 next to the restaurant, corner room by the pool." It's so nice to get some information to help me find the room besides just the room number. It saves me from having to drive or walk all around the place. It was a warm afternoon on what had been a busy day. I was grateful for anything that made it a little easier.
My mind was still running a hundred miles an hour in a million directions. Home. Work. Alibi. Did I defrost the chicken for dinner? Why didn't I get gas yesterday? As I got to the room and knocked on the door, it slowed down, but it didn't stop. I wish I had made the time to pick up some massage oil. I didn't bring any lube either. Damn! Wait, I don't think I'll need it. T opened the door and smiled and for just a moment everything stopped. His smile is truly disarming. Whatever I had been thinking about or planning to say just faded away. I stepped in and we kissed. It was nice, but brief because my mind started running again.
I dropped my purse and excused myself to the bathroom. I thought that if I washed up a little I might be able to pull myself into the present moment. I cleaned up and took a few deep cleansing breaths. Better already.
I stepped back into the room and he walked over to me, slid his hands around my waist and kissed me. It was a deep kiss, both gentle and demanding, and that was all it took. Everything outside the room was gone. There was only him, that moment, that room, that kiss.
I slid my hands over his forearms and then slowly up his biceps to his shoulders. My god he has strong arms and shoulders! That's one of the things I first noticed about him on the day we met. It's one of the features of his body that I really love, not my favorite thing, but close. We stood there kissing for awhile, giving me time to caress his arms some more. Eventually, he slid a hand between my legs and rubbed me through my pants.
That's when the mixed emotions settled in. Once he started touching me down there, I couldn't give his kisses and arms my full attention anymore, but I wanted more of that nice feeling. I slipped out of my pants and panties and he obliged. I started pulling off his t-shirt (a San Francisco Giants t-shirt, by the way, because he's not stupid and I know how to pick my men) and he helped me. I commented on his fabulous choice in shirts, and he smiled as he threw it to the floor.
That's one of the things I love about hot sex with lover, and this one, in particular. The clothes get peeled off and tossed aside wherever they may fall. That's part of the turn on. Any guy who starts folding his clothes and placing them neatly on the table or the dresser before coming back to me would lose me because my ADHD would pull my brain away from him to thoughts of laundry and that load that was in the dryer when I left the house. Not only that, I'd think he was weird. Seriously, if you'd rather fold clothes than touch my woohoo, yeah, you're weird. Anyway.....
Then I was thoroughly enjoying what he was doing with my clit and losing myself in his kisses (truly amazing kisser, this one) and expanding my exploration of his body from his arms and shoulders to his chest. Within about 30 seconds I was on sensory overload.
"Let's get in bed," I suggested. He smiled and agreed. The next 15 seconds were a rush of pulling off the remaining clothes and climbing into bed.
He leaned over me and kissed me and reached his hand between my legs again. I had been with him enough that he knew his way around. He knew exactly how to touch me to make me moan, exactly how to kiss me to make me want him even more. It wasn't long before I came the first time. I screamed into his mouth and bucked against his hand, riding it as long as I could.
I never could come down, though, because he didn't stop. When I first experienced this with him it was unsettling. I was typically used to at least a little recovery time, even 30 seconds would do, but he liked charging forward, stroking on every highly sensitized nerve and pushing me through the pain of that to even more pleasure. I was ready for it, and I surrendered to it, still kissing him the whole time. When I came the second time, I felt it throughout my entire body. I don't remember much except focusing on the sensations pulsating through me and how it felt when he slid his fingers inside me.
I wish I were a better writer. I wish I could find the words to describe how that feels physically and how it feels emotionally to experience that with someone you really care about. No matter how hard I've tried, I have failed to capture it accurately. Maybe it's one of those things that isn't meant to be talked about or written about, but just experienced - a sensory and emotional experience meant to be shared by two people. When it's good, when you really have chemistry with that other person, it changes you a little every time. The woman who walks out of that room isn't the same one who walked in. And it's a good difference.
After I came for the third time (or was it the fourth?), we stopped for a bit and I snuggled up next to him, resting my head on his shoulder, tracing my finger across his chest while we talked, kissed, talked, and kissed some more.
I love stroking his chest while we lay together. He's a strong, solid man. Yes, he's very bright, too, which you know is a requirement for me, but he's also very physical, which is an overwhelming turn on. He has short dark hair, much shorter than it was when I met him, but longer than it was a month ago. Now it's just long enough for me to run my fingers through it, which I love to do. He's clean shaven, although by the time I see him in the afternoons he's usually got a little stubble, which I also love. He's taller than me (heck, who isn't?) but not really tall - the perfect height for standing in front of him and kissing without having to stand on my tippy toes and keep my face turned straight up all the time until I get dizzy and lose my balance.
I'll save the rest of the description for another time because as much as I loved what we were doing, I could feel that he was hard and I wanted to taste him. I started re-positioning myself and I asked if it was ok if I enjoyed his cock for a while. He smiled and said, "You know what I want," and I nodded, indicating that yes, indeed, I knew exactly what he wanted right at that moment.
I took his hard cock into my mouth and suckled slowly for a minute or two, enjoying the taste of him and assessing which movements and pressure points got the most response. Every now and then he'd moan and I'd feel my pussy twitch. It was almost like a dance. His responses - a moan, a thrust of his hips, a pull of my hair - elicited more excitement in me which made me suck harder and deeper, and that made him moan more, thrust faster, pull my hair harder.
Hair pulling is incredibly sexy and the one sure way to make me crazy (in a good way). I have no idea how or why my scalp is connected to my pussy, but apparently it is. I'd take a deep breath and dive down, swallowing the head of his cock and he'd grab a big handful of hair and pull me up off him, just so I could struggle against him to get his full cock back in my mouth again. Sometimes the best I could do was just to get to the tip, other times I did better. Sometimes he'd just release me and the momentum of my own pulling downward would force me to fall on him, with his head forcing is way into my throat. Other time's he'd surprise me by pulling my hair up and then, instead of releasing me either slowly or quickly, he'd push my head down onto him and hold me there, so all I could do was hold my breath and just fuck him with my throat, swallowing repeatedly. It was on one of those times that he finally released into my throat, coming so much that I had to keep swallowing so I wouldn't choke.
As if I wasn't turned on enough by the whole experience, when he groaned loudly as he came, it felt like I was pushed over an edge and I felt myself starting to come. My cunt was contracting and I felt those pleasure chemicals starting to release, but it startled me and elicited just enough resistance to stop it. That was confusing. I've experienced coming just from nipple stimulation before, and I've experienced getting so turned on by giving head (with this same man) that all it took was about 5 seconds of touching me to make me come, but I had never come before without any external stimulation below the neck. This was the first surprise of the afternoon.
I was so shocked by it that I didn't tell him. I don't know why I didn't, probably because it was so strange for me that I didn't really know how to express what happened. I was also disappointed in myself for not going with it and seeing how far it would go.
After I had swallowed the last drop he had for me, I scooched back up to where I could curl up in his arms again. Things had been changing for me recently where this man was concerned. We were supposedly fuck buddies, of sorts, I suppose. He made it clear to me six months ago that he didn't want to feel anything for me and he didn't want me to feel anything for him. We even stopped seeing each other for a month or so over that issue.
The rules hadn't changed, but the situation did. Feelings were involved now, for both of us. For me, that makes the sex better, much, much better. Everything was more intense. We were both a bit less inhibited, not that we were very sexually inhibited before but there's a price you pay for emotional inhibition. You can't be locking your emotions down without experiencing a corresponding inability to completely surrender yourself to the physical pleasure. I've come to understand that the physical/sexual and emotional parts of ourselves are intimately connected. Sure, you can have really good sex without letting your emotions out of their tightly locked box, but you can't have great sex that way. You can't break through to real shared intimacy - at any level - without letting yourself feel something.
It's hard to explain this to people, particularly to men, not because they are incapable of emotion, but because they are socialized to think that emotion comes with responsibilities. Many think, deep down, that "if I love you, then I'll have to take care of you and I don't want that responsibility," or "I can't open up to you because that will mean that I really don't love my wife/girlfriend/ex-wife," or "If I let you into that soft emotional place inside me, that would be a betrayal to my wife/girlfriend/ex-wife."
It saddens me to think of the intimacy, joy, and pleasure that we deny ourselves because of what we think it will mean. Why can't we just let it be what it is? If you don't want to make major changes in your every day life, fine. The beauty of experiencing real intimacy with someone is that you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, but you may surprise yourself and find that you like it, and that you want keep peeling those layers of resistance away so you can experience more of it. Or not, and that's good, too. Why can't we make our own rules? Why can't we decide what it means for us?
Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that I was experiencing our sexual encounter differently because of the increased level of intimacy. It was a wonderful and positive difference, and every kiss was a little sweeter. Heck, I started to come from giving a blow job. That's definitely a good difference. Wouldn't you agree?
Back to room 139....We kissed more and talked more, and a few minutes later he said with a wicked smile, "It's my turn," and he started moving down between my legs.
To be continued......
My mind was still running a hundred miles an hour in a million directions. Home. Work. Alibi. Did I defrost the chicken for dinner? Why didn't I get gas yesterday? As I got to the room and knocked on the door, it slowed down, but it didn't stop. I wish I had made the time to pick up some massage oil. I didn't bring any lube either. Damn! Wait, I don't think I'll need it. T opened the door and smiled and for just a moment everything stopped. His smile is truly disarming. Whatever I had been thinking about or planning to say just faded away. I stepped in and we kissed. It was nice, but brief because my mind started running again.
I dropped my purse and excused myself to the bathroom. I thought that if I washed up a little I might be able to pull myself into the present moment. I cleaned up and took a few deep cleansing breaths. Better already.
I stepped back into the room and he walked over to me, slid his hands around my waist and kissed me. It was a deep kiss, both gentle and demanding, and that was all it took. Everything outside the room was gone. There was only him, that moment, that room, that kiss.
I slid my hands over his forearms and then slowly up his biceps to his shoulders. My god he has strong arms and shoulders! That's one of the things I first noticed about him on the day we met. It's one of the features of his body that I really love, not my favorite thing, but close. We stood there kissing for awhile, giving me time to caress his arms some more. Eventually, he slid a hand between my legs and rubbed me through my pants.
That's when the mixed emotions settled in. Once he started touching me down there, I couldn't give his kisses and arms my full attention anymore, but I wanted more of that nice feeling. I slipped out of my pants and panties and he obliged. I started pulling off his t-shirt (a San Francisco Giants t-shirt, by the way, because he's not stupid and I know how to pick my men) and he helped me. I commented on his fabulous choice in shirts, and he smiled as he threw it to the floor.
That's one of the things I love about hot sex with lover, and this one, in particular. The clothes get peeled off and tossed aside wherever they may fall. That's part of the turn on. Any guy who starts folding his clothes and placing them neatly on the table or the dresser before coming back to me would lose me because my ADHD would pull my brain away from him to thoughts of laundry and that load that was in the dryer when I left the house. Not only that, I'd think he was weird. Seriously, if you'd rather fold clothes than touch my woohoo, yeah, you're weird. Anyway.....
Then I was thoroughly enjoying what he was doing with my clit and losing myself in his kisses (truly amazing kisser, this one) and expanding my exploration of his body from his arms and shoulders to his chest. Within about 30 seconds I was on sensory overload.
"Let's get in bed," I suggested. He smiled and agreed. The next 15 seconds were a rush of pulling off the remaining clothes and climbing into bed.
He leaned over me and kissed me and reached his hand between my legs again. I had been with him enough that he knew his way around. He knew exactly how to touch me to make me moan, exactly how to kiss me to make me want him even more. It wasn't long before I came the first time. I screamed into his mouth and bucked against his hand, riding it as long as I could.
I never could come down, though, because he didn't stop. When I first experienced this with him it was unsettling. I was typically used to at least a little recovery time, even 30 seconds would do, but he liked charging forward, stroking on every highly sensitized nerve and pushing me through the pain of that to even more pleasure. I was ready for it, and I surrendered to it, still kissing him the whole time. When I came the second time, I felt it throughout my entire body. I don't remember much except focusing on the sensations pulsating through me and how it felt when he slid his fingers inside me.
I wish I were a better writer. I wish I could find the words to describe how that feels physically and how it feels emotionally to experience that with someone you really care about. No matter how hard I've tried, I have failed to capture it accurately. Maybe it's one of those things that isn't meant to be talked about or written about, but just experienced - a sensory and emotional experience meant to be shared by two people. When it's good, when you really have chemistry with that other person, it changes you a little every time. The woman who walks out of that room isn't the same one who walked in. And it's a good difference.
After I came for the third time (or was it the fourth?), we stopped for a bit and I snuggled up next to him, resting my head on his shoulder, tracing my finger across his chest while we talked, kissed, talked, and kissed some more.
I love stroking his chest while we lay together. He's a strong, solid man. Yes, he's very bright, too, which you know is a requirement for me, but he's also very physical, which is an overwhelming turn on. He has short dark hair, much shorter than it was when I met him, but longer than it was a month ago. Now it's just long enough for me to run my fingers through it, which I love to do. He's clean shaven, although by the time I see him in the afternoons he's usually got a little stubble, which I also love. He's taller than me (heck, who isn't?) but not really tall - the perfect height for standing in front of him and kissing without having to stand on my tippy toes and keep my face turned straight up all the time until I get dizzy and lose my balance.
I'll save the rest of the description for another time because as much as I loved what we were doing, I could feel that he was hard and I wanted to taste him. I started re-positioning myself and I asked if it was ok if I enjoyed his cock for a while. He smiled and said, "You know what I want," and I nodded, indicating that yes, indeed, I knew exactly what he wanted right at that moment.
I took his hard cock into my mouth and suckled slowly for a minute or two, enjoying the taste of him and assessing which movements and pressure points got the most response. Every now and then he'd moan and I'd feel my pussy twitch. It was almost like a dance. His responses - a moan, a thrust of his hips, a pull of my hair - elicited more excitement in me which made me suck harder and deeper, and that made him moan more, thrust faster, pull my hair harder.
Hair pulling is incredibly sexy and the one sure way to make me crazy (in a good way). I have no idea how or why my scalp is connected to my pussy, but apparently it is. I'd take a deep breath and dive down, swallowing the head of his cock and he'd grab a big handful of hair and pull me up off him, just so I could struggle against him to get his full cock back in my mouth again. Sometimes the best I could do was just to get to the tip, other times I did better. Sometimes he'd just release me and the momentum of my own pulling downward would force me to fall on him, with his head forcing is way into my throat. Other time's he'd surprise me by pulling my hair up and then, instead of releasing me either slowly or quickly, he'd push my head down onto him and hold me there, so all I could do was hold my breath and just fuck him with my throat, swallowing repeatedly. It was on one of those times that he finally released into my throat, coming so much that I had to keep swallowing so I wouldn't choke.
As if I wasn't turned on enough by the whole experience, when he groaned loudly as he came, it felt like I was pushed over an edge and I felt myself starting to come. My cunt was contracting and I felt those pleasure chemicals starting to release, but it startled me and elicited just enough resistance to stop it. That was confusing. I've experienced coming just from nipple stimulation before, and I've experienced getting so turned on by giving head (with this same man) that all it took was about 5 seconds of touching me to make me come, but I had never come before without any external stimulation below the neck. This was the first surprise of the afternoon.
I was so shocked by it that I didn't tell him. I don't know why I didn't, probably because it was so strange for me that I didn't really know how to express what happened. I was also disappointed in myself for not going with it and seeing how far it would go.
After I had swallowed the last drop he had for me, I scooched back up to where I could curl up in his arms again. Things had been changing for me recently where this man was concerned. We were supposedly fuck buddies, of sorts, I suppose. He made it clear to me six months ago that he didn't want to feel anything for me and he didn't want me to feel anything for him. We even stopped seeing each other for a month or so over that issue.
The rules hadn't changed, but the situation did. Feelings were involved now, for both of us. For me, that makes the sex better, much, much better. Everything was more intense. We were both a bit less inhibited, not that we were very sexually inhibited before but there's a price you pay for emotional inhibition. You can't be locking your emotions down without experiencing a corresponding inability to completely surrender yourself to the physical pleasure. I've come to understand that the physical/sexual and emotional parts of ourselves are intimately connected. Sure, you can have really good sex without letting your emotions out of their tightly locked box, but you can't have great sex that way. You can't break through to real shared intimacy - at any level - without letting yourself feel something.
It's hard to explain this to people, particularly to men, not because they are incapable of emotion, but because they are socialized to think that emotion comes with responsibilities. Many think, deep down, that "if I love you, then I'll have to take care of you and I don't want that responsibility," or "I can't open up to you because that will mean that I really don't love my wife/girlfriend/ex-wife," or "If I let you into that soft emotional place inside me, that would be a betrayal to my wife/girlfriend/ex-wife."
It saddens me to think of the intimacy, joy, and pleasure that we deny ourselves because of what we think it will mean. Why can't we just let it be what it is? If you don't want to make major changes in your every day life, fine. The beauty of experiencing real intimacy with someone is that you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, but you may surprise yourself and find that you like it, and that you want keep peeling those layers of resistance away so you can experience more of it. Or not, and that's good, too. Why can't we make our own rules? Why can't we decide what it means for us?
Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that I was experiencing our sexual encounter differently because of the increased level of intimacy. It was a wonderful and positive difference, and every kiss was a little sweeter. Heck, I started to come from giving a blow job. That's definitely a good difference. Wouldn't you agree?
Back to room 139....We kissed more and talked more, and a few minutes later he said with a wicked smile, "It's my turn," and he started moving down between my legs.
To be continued......
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Give Me More Choices
There should be more choices in life, particularly in one's relationship status on Facebook. I get only one choice, so I picked, "Married." But what if I could pick more than one status?
Monday, July 28, 2014
Orgasmic
You may not know this, but I love playing Words with Friends. I play with several people, most of them friends in my everyday life, although JJ and I have been playing for years, too.
Well, the other day I was playing with a guy I know locally who is happily married and completely unaware of PWK and the world of Kat.
I played the word 'orgasmic,' and it made me chuckle as I hit "SEND." About 10 seconds later, my phone pinged. It was a message from him, sent through the app. It read, "Orgasmic? Really?! For 69 points? How did you do that?"
My answer was, "It's a gift. ;-)"
Here's a screen shot:
Yes, you read it right. That's 69 points. Life is delightful sometimes, isn't it?
The fun part is I know this could have been the first step in a seduction process, but I didn't set the hook. I let him swim away, confused and impressed. I can tell you this, though. Since then he has played much faster and more often than he ever has before. Some fish just want to be caught.
Well, the other day I was playing with a guy I know locally who is happily married and completely unaware of PWK and the world of Kat.
I played the word 'orgasmic,' and it made me chuckle as I hit "SEND." About 10 seconds later, my phone pinged. It was a message from him, sent through the app. It read, "Orgasmic? Really?! For 69 points? How did you do that?"
My answer was, "It's a gift. ;-)"
Here's a screen shot:
Yes, you read it right. That's 69 points. Life is delightful sometimes, isn't it?
The fun part is I know this could have been the first step in a seduction process, but I didn't set the hook. I let him swim away, confused and impressed. I can tell you this, though. Since then he has played much faster and more often than he ever has before. Some fish just want to be caught.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
The Preacher Had a Boner
"Hey, Mom! Did you notice on the movie, The Little Mermaid, that the preacher officiating at the wedding of Ariel and the Prince had a boner?"
I just looked at Little TommyKat with a look that was a cross between surprise and disgust.
"No, I didn't notice, and now I won't be able to help but notice. You just ruined that movie for me. And I don't want to hear about animated boners. Tell your father."
Something happens when you spend enough time around boys. Eventually, they forget that you're not one of them and they start to talk to you like you are. Sometimes, it's amusing. Other times, it makes you fear for the future of the country.
Anyway, so Little TommyKat mentions the Preacher's boner in Little Mermaid, so my brain automatically starts to picture it and tries to remember. That's when I realized that the image that came to mind wasn't the Preacher's boner. It was T's, from the last time I was with him. Specifically, the image was of it just before I took it into my mouth after he had arranged us into a 69 position. He was on top and tilted his hips in such a way that once it was in my mouth, I couldn't take it out. It was one of those blow jobs with almost no lip or hand involvement; it was all tongue, soft palate, and throat. My favorite kind.
But just before I took it into my mouth, I remember how perfect it looked. Nice and hard, throbbing a bit. I wanted it. Badly.
I've told you before that I'm not a big fan of 69 because I can't stay focused on my end of the deal when something so nice is going on at the other end. It's an ADHD thing. This was different, though. Because I couldn't take it out of my mouth, it was easier, and I learned that the closer I came to coming, the harder and deeper I suckled his cock. He made me come a couple of times that way. Just thinking about it today made me damp and I started wondering where T was right at that moment.
I looked up from my book and Little TommyKat was just staring at me, smiling. Apparently, only a second or two had passed. Then he said, "I know, I know. You only care about Dad's boner, right?"
I closed my book and said, "Of course. Now no more boner talk. It's time for lunch."
I just looked at Little TommyKat with a look that was a cross between surprise and disgust.
"No, I didn't notice, and now I won't be able to help but notice. You just ruined that movie for me. And I don't want to hear about animated boners. Tell your father."
Something happens when you spend enough time around boys. Eventually, they forget that you're not one of them and they start to talk to you like you are. Sometimes, it's amusing. Other times, it makes you fear for the future of the country.
Anyway, so Little TommyKat mentions the Preacher's boner in Little Mermaid, so my brain automatically starts to picture it and tries to remember. That's when I realized that the image that came to mind wasn't the Preacher's boner. It was T's, from the last time I was with him. Specifically, the image was of it just before I took it into my mouth after he had arranged us into a 69 position. He was on top and tilted his hips in such a way that once it was in my mouth, I couldn't take it out. It was one of those blow jobs with almost no lip or hand involvement; it was all tongue, soft palate, and throat. My favorite kind.
But just before I took it into my mouth, I remember how perfect it looked. Nice and hard, throbbing a bit. I wanted it. Badly.
I've told you before that I'm not a big fan of 69 because I can't stay focused on my end of the deal when something so nice is going on at the other end. It's an ADHD thing. This was different, though. Because I couldn't take it out of my mouth, it was easier, and I learned that the closer I came to coming, the harder and deeper I suckled his cock. He made me come a couple of times that way. Just thinking about it today made me damp and I started wondering where T was right at that moment.
I looked up from my book and Little TommyKat was just staring at me, smiling. Apparently, only a second or two had passed. Then he said, "I know, I know. You only care about Dad's boner, right?"
I closed my book and said, "Of course. Now no more boner talk. It's time for lunch."
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
10 Surefire Ways to Ruin Your Affair
You've done all the searching. You've found someone. You have an affair. It's fantastic! But then it all blows up in your face. What happened? We tend to focus our time and attention on finding a partner, but that's just the beginning. If you're not careful, it can end as quickly as it began.
Here are 10 surefire ways to ruin things.
Here are 10 surefire ways to ruin things.
- Be uncommunicative. You wooed her with your witty repartee and sensitive, insightful emails, but once you caught her, you became silent or very close to it. You told her you're busy, but it really doesn't matter why. If you stop communicating, she'll be gone. How long it takes her to walk away depends on many factors, including how much she likes you, how desperate she is, how good you are in bed, and probably one or two other things. Eventually, though, she'll go.
- Treat her like a booty call. In the beginning you romanced her and seduced her, but now you don't talk to her much at all, except when you want sex. So you call and act like everything is exactly as it should be and you try to set up a date. She'll go along with it for awhile, but eventually you'll be shocked when she's always too busy to see you, especially when she had no problem making the time before. Even a fuck buddy needs some friendly communication in between fuck sessions.
- Lie to her.....and get caught. Face it. We're all liars. We lie to our spouses and, yes, we even lie to ourselves at times. Still, we don't want to believe that a lover would ever lie to us. You tell her you're not looking on AM anymore, but she catches you. Now she says she can't trust you, which is odd because you really weren't too trustworthy before because you're cheating on your wife with her, but she didn't count that in the trustworthy equation (there's that lying to ourselves thing again).
- Start to fantasize (and talk) about being together full-time. The majority of prowlers never leave their spouses, and those that do very rarely end up with the lover they were with when they split. You have a deal. You're both married and you're planning to stay married. If you start making noises about changing the plan, your lover may disappear very quickly.
- Tell your friends. You think it's safe. You think your friends would never, ever tell anyone that you're having an affair. Until they do. Of course they're not trying to hurt you, but the intention doesn't matter when your spouse finds out.
- Start getting sloppy. After a while, you think you've got your spouse totally hoodwinked so you don't delete messages and email like you used to. You forget to clear your browser history. You wear perfume or scented after shave to a meeting with lover, leaving him/her smelling like s/he was inappropriately close to someone of the opposite sex. It's only natural to let your guard down a little after a while. Maintaining constant vigilance is difficult, but if you get sloppy, you'll slip up, and the affair will be over.
- Get selfish in bed. There's nothing wrong with being selfish in bed every now and then and just letting your lover please you, but remember that s/he has a spouse at home who probably does that all the time. If it becomes a regular thing, why would s/he want to be with you? S/he could be stay at home and be completely unsatisfied without risk of divorce.
- Be emotionally unavailable. Let me be very clear on this. An affair is about more than sex. It's about friendship, emotional connection, mutual support, and sex. If all you want is sex, you don't want an affair. You want a fuck buddy or a prostitute. If you go into the relationship saying you want an affair and then you shut down emotionally, she won't stay long, or if she does, she'll also be looking for someone else. If you can't be at least a little bit emotionally vulnerable, just call a hooker.
- Talk only about yourself. Don't forget the 'mutually supportive' part of having an affair. If you're talking all the time and you don't know much about what's going on in her life, you won't be able to be very supportive at all. Why should she stay? I've been in relationships (both long and short term) with men who could not tell you anything substantial about my life because the topic of conversation was always their lives, their needs, their struggles. I've even been told by someone that he didn't want to hear about anything related to my family. What the fuck?! Try this test. Let's imagine that someone were to ask you about your lover, "Hey, what's going on with (your lover) these days?" Would you know what to say? Would you be able to say anything more than, "Oh, uh, she's great!" If you can't, she's either on her way out the door or she's unhappy and thinking about it.
- Take her for granted. Things have been going so well for so long that you don't feel the need to be as diligent about the niceties. You may go for days without contact because you're really busy. Come on, how long does it take to send a two sentence email saying that you're busy but you care about her/love her and you miss her? You start forgetting to send her a thank you text or email after playtime. You just assume she'll show up for playtime, so you quit asking her. All the little acts of appreciation you showed in the beginning are long gone. Basically, you treat her like you treat your wife, or worse. Remember, she's already taken for granted and under appreciated at home. Why would she take that from you? And when she leaves, you'll probably be shocked because you didn't see it coming.
Now, take a look at this list again. Except for numbers 4, 5, and 6, these are also ways to ruin your marriage. If you recognize yourself in any of these, there may still be time to change.
Monday, July 21, 2014
Falling for Tall Guy
I met Tall Guy on AM in early January. At first there was nothing that really stood out about him except for the fact that he's tall and he's a decent writer, which is not common among men on AM. Trust me on this.
It's not that I'm a writing snob, but when your only way of getting to know someone initially and determining if you want to meet them in person is in writing, it really helps if he can put two sentences together. Okay, maybe I am a writing snob. Whatever....
Anyway, Tall Guy wrote well, often, and prolifically. It didn't take very long at all for us to learn more and more about each other and to learn that we actually have some things in common that surprised me. By the end of January, even though I was thoroughly enjoying playtime with T, I was ready to meet him. But he wasn't ready to meet me.
I used to make the assumption that by the time someone signs up on AM, they are ready to pursue whatever they may find there. I learned that is not the case. There are many folks there who are just checking it out, some out of curiosity and others to see if they really could find someone there. Let me speak for the real AM hunters and say that the lookie-loos are annoying. Seriously, it's not fun to invest weeks in getting to know someone only to find out that he doesn't know what he wants or that he was just window shopping but he doesn't want to prowl. But that's exactly how it was with Tall Guy.
Let me pause here and tell you why I've named him Tall Guy. It should be very obvious, but for some of you (Ryan, Max, and whoever else may need assistance with their masks before I put on my own) I'll explain a bit more. He's tall. Very tall. Really, really tall. 6'10" to be specific. His height is emphasized even more because I'm so short - 5'4", well, actually 5'3".......until this morning when the doctor told me I was really 5'2" now. Yes, I am the incredible shrinking woman and Tall Guy towers over me.
But I digress....again.....
Tall Guy wasn't sure that he wanted to cheat, and you know my advice to anyone who's not sure - don't do it. So, I assumed that Tall Guy would never become a notch on my bedpost, but we continued to correspond anyway. Why? Because I liked him. Very much.
The months flew by - February, March. In March he started thinking he might like to get together. April - nothing. May - he decided he wanted to meet. I'll admit that I was nervous, mainly because I had put him in the "not gonna happen" category and I was very surprised when he jumped into the "let's meet once and see how it goes" category.
It went very well. The first thing I noticed when I walked in the room was that, even though I knew he was tall, he was really, really tall. He walked over to give me a hug and a kiss and I had to look straight up and stand on my tippy toes and he had to bend way over to make it happen. I chuckled to myself at the unusual situation and then I realized that there could very well be some logistical issues to address as the afternoon unfolded.
He took my hand and stepped over to the bed and sat down. Then we were almost eye level. Almost. And he kissed me again. That's when the magic happened. Wow. Sparks, fireworks, whatever you want to call it. And I was shocked. Jumping from "not gonna happen" to "let's meet once and see how it goes" is one thing, but leaping all the way over to "this could be serious" is crazy and it caught me off guard.
As I said, it went very well. It was a wonderful afternoon in just about every way. I'm not going to tell the sex story in this post, but never fear, I will soon. This post has another point entirely.
I left that meeting happy, very satisfied, and convinced that we were moving in a new direction together. I expected to hear something from him soon afterwards. Nothing. After sending him a message, he shared with me that he was feeling guilty and needed some time to work it out.
Then I got the "let's be friends" email. Not only was that the content, but that was definitely the feel of it as well. It was much more distant than what he had written to me recently.
"Hi Kat, I fear I may have hurt your feelings and if I have, I am very, very sorry. You are an intelligent, warm, and welcoming person and I am glad to have met you. I've enjoyed our chats and the friendship we built. I really hope that can continue. Also, I did enjoy our time together very much and am sorry my own issues have dampened that for you.I don't know what else to say … I sincerely hope I haven't hurt you. If I have, I am sorry."
Fuck. You know when someone calls you intelligent soon after fucking you it can't be good. At first I was confused. The encounter we had wasn't a friendly fuck. There was much more passion to it. There was more of everything that you would want. But, hoping that I could still save face, I wrote a very polite, albeit brief, reply:
"Thanks for your note. I appreciate your thoughts. I was hurt because it seemed like you regretted our meeting and seeing me. It made something really nice seem dirty. I'd like to continue our friendship, too. I have no regrets. I think you're an extraordinary man."
The message was very docile, but I was angry. I was angry and him for not knowing what he wanted and I was angry at myself for allowing myself to be drawn in beyond the emotional safety zone before I was sure he was ready. I was angry at SNS Guy for pulling the rug out from under me and kicking me to the curb months before (a little delayed anger, I know). I was angry at T for his on again - off again efforts to keep me at a safe emotional distance. I was angry at JJ for disappearing from my life. I was angry at Hubby for...well, for a lot of things. I felt jerked around and used and every man I'd been mad at in the past 6 months popped into my head and I sat in my car and raged at them all at once.
By the time I was done, I had decided that I wasn't going to have anything to do with any of them ever again. I was done. Well, except for maybe SNS Guy because he was my best friend, and still is, in spite of what had happened. And except for T because, as you all know, he's like crack for me and I knew I'd need another fix soon. And Hubby, well, we had to finish raising our youngest son, so he could stay around until LittleTomKat turned 18, but that was it!
For the rest of May, email with Tall Guy was polite and friendly, but not as frequent as it had been before we met. In June, it became more frequent again, more personal. At some point during June, we both realized that we had moved out of that "let's be friends" category to the "this is serious" category. In early July, he decided that he was really ready to meet again. We did. It was amazing.
I'm not exactly sure when I started to love him, but I know I fought it. Every warning light in my brain started going off at once, telling me that being emotionally vulnerable - again - was a bad idea. But every time I talked or chatted with him I couldn't see those warning lights at all. I only saw him.
And that's how it is today.
Saturday, July 19, 2014
All I Need Is a Little Alpha
Hubby came home last night and we went to bed. I was all prepared, as I said I would be, but he seemed surprised about the whole thing.
Hubby: Oh, you wanna have sex?
Kat: You're the one who texted me that you took a pill. Doesn't that always mean that you want sex?
Hubby: Uh. Ok. We can do that.
There's nothing like a response like that to make a gal feel wanted (yes, that was sarcasm). I didn't let it deter me, though. I answered with a perky, "Great!" and jumped into bed.
Things started off like they always do. He grabbed some lube and started fingering me. If you would just warm me up a bit, the lube would be completely unnecessary, I thought, but I didn't say it. I've said it enough before.
If he wasn't going to help with the warm up, I'd handle it myself, so I reached down and started stroking his cock while I thought about my last visit with my Sweetie. Oh yeah. I came in no time.
He got up on his knees, his favorite position for getting a BJ. He was rock hard. Thank God for those little pills (yes, the pills that we pay for ourselves, that insurance doesn't cover....and I've never whined about that once).
I took him into my mouth and started sucking on him slowly, getting reacquainted with his cock. I will say this for Hubby; he has a lovely cock. Bigger than average, nice shape. After a few strokes I started to get into it. I reached around, squeezed his butt, and pulled him forward every time I went down.
That's when it happened. He started thrusting his his hips forward a bit, then he put his hand on the back of my head, gripped my hair, and pulled me onto him every time he thrusted forward.
Oh. my. god. That tiny bit of alpha behavior was all I needed to get that buzz of desire. I dove down and took that throbbing cock into my throat and kept swallowing until I almost passed out. Then I took a breath and sucked the cum right out of him. He actually yelled as he came. That hasn't happened for years.
We rested together after. I snuggled up next to him and instead of acting like he wanted me on the other side of the bed immediately, he started running his fingers through my hair as we talked.
I was ready go again, but I didn't think he'd be able to. Still, I lightly squeezed his balls and brushed his cock every now and then. Fifteen minutes later, he was getting hard again.
I started stroking him, and he said, "Uh, Kat, you know that's an illusion. I won't cum again."
"Such a negative attitude," I whined as I kept stroking.
When he was fully hard again, I rolled over to straddle him.
"What about your knees?!" he said quickly.
I slid his cock inside me and said, "Fuck my knees," just before I leaned over and kissed his neck.
Ok, I'll admit it, my knees were killing me, but I wasn't going to let the moment go. He was going to cum a second time. I suspected he'd need some help. So I started whispering in his ear as I rocked my hips, grinding my clit against him.
"Did you like it when your little slut, M, rode you? Did she do it like this or did you like her to sit up straight and tall so you could see her little tits and watch your cock as it slid in and out of her? "
He didn't say anything, but he gabbed my hips and started pulling me, guiding me exactly how he wanted.
"Mmmm, nice. I'll bet she was a good little slut and did exactly what you said, didn't she? Did she love your cock as much as I do? Did she suck on it? Was she good at that?"
He spoke, breathlessly. "No one does it like you do."
Wow. That made me smile, and it almost made me lose focus, but I held on.
"That's because you know I love you. But her cunt was always nice and tight for you, wasn't it?"
He started pumping, thrusting his hips upward. Then suddenly he stopped and said, "Get off. I want you from behind."
Yeehaw! I thought. Here we go.... but then I couldn't get off. My knees had frozen up. LOL. Yes. I was stuck. I whispered in his ear, "I'm sure M never got stuck on you, did she?" And we both burst into laughter.
Slowly, very slowly, he helped me and I managed to get off and change positions. I was afraid that the hot mood was dead, but he got behind me, entered me and said, "Actually, her cunt was always perfect - warm, wet, tight.... Now shut the fuck up!" And he brought his hand down hard on my ass.
SLAP!
Ouch! But.....holy shit! Where did that come from??? I felt a little shudder in my pussy. That's it. All I need is a little Alpha, Dear.
He grabbed both my hips and started fucking me hard and fast. I tried to move with him, but I couldn't, he was in control. All I could do was hold on.
Then he said something that made my heart stop.
"Is this the way JJ fucked you?"
Shit. I didn't know what to say. The whole truth? That would be, "yes, but harder and faster and with a thicker cock." I decided that partial truth would do, so I just said, "Yes."
He slapped my ass again. Hard! And he started pumping me harder.
Then I had JJ on the brain, and I came very quickly after that, but he didn't slow down, which made it much more intense.
A few minutes later, he came, and he groaned loudly as he did. He pulled me back onto him and held me tightly for a while. Then he released me and collapsed on the bed next to me. I rolled over. He reached over and took my hand. We were both quiet for awhile. I was the one who spoke first.
"Was that pill one from the doctor or one from that online pharmacy that I found?"
"Online," he said, still catching his breath.
We looked at each other and we both smiled, then laughed.
A few minutes later, he said, "Kat?"
"Yes?"
"I don't think I can take another pill for a few days."
We laughed again.
"That's ok," I told him. "Let's just stay in today, shall we? Today was ...uh.....pretty good, don't you think?"
No answer. Just as I turned to look at him, I heard the snore. Poor guy was tuckered out.
And I was amazed. Just when I think it won't ever get any better, he surprises me. All he needed was a little more help from me, and all I needed was a little bit of Alpha.
Hubby: Oh, you wanna have sex?
Kat: You're the one who texted me that you took a pill. Doesn't that always mean that you want sex?
Hubby: Uh. Ok. We can do that.
There's nothing like a response like that to make a gal feel wanted (yes, that was sarcasm). I didn't let it deter me, though. I answered with a perky, "Great!" and jumped into bed.
Things started off like they always do. He grabbed some lube and started fingering me. If you would just warm me up a bit, the lube would be completely unnecessary, I thought, but I didn't say it. I've said it enough before.
If he wasn't going to help with the warm up, I'd handle it myself, so I reached down and started stroking his cock while I thought about my last visit with my Sweetie. Oh yeah. I came in no time.
He got up on his knees, his favorite position for getting a BJ. He was rock hard. Thank God for those little pills (yes, the pills that we pay for ourselves, that insurance doesn't cover....and I've never whined about that once).
I took him into my mouth and started sucking on him slowly, getting reacquainted with his cock. I will say this for Hubby; he has a lovely cock. Bigger than average, nice shape. After a few strokes I started to get into it. I reached around, squeezed his butt, and pulled him forward every time I went down.
That's when it happened. He started thrusting his his hips forward a bit, then he put his hand on the back of my head, gripped my hair, and pulled me onto him every time he thrusted forward.
Oh. my. god. That tiny bit of alpha behavior was all I needed to get that buzz of desire. I dove down and took that throbbing cock into my throat and kept swallowing until I almost passed out. Then I took a breath and sucked the cum right out of him. He actually yelled as he came. That hasn't happened for years.
We rested together after. I snuggled up next to him and instead of acting like he wanted me on the other side of the bed immediately, he started running his fingers through my hair as we talked.
I was ready go again, but I didn't think he'd be able to. Still, I lightly squeezed his balls and brushed his cock every now and then. Fifteen minutes later, he was getting hard again.
I started stroking him, and he said, "Uh, Kat, you know that's an illusion. I won't cum again."
"Such a negative attitude," I whined as I kept stroking.
When he was fully hard again, I rolled over to straddle him.
"What about your knees?!" he said quickly.
I slid his cock inside me and said, "Fuck my knees," just before I leaned over and kissed his neck.
Ok, I'll admit it, my knees were killing me, but I wasn't going to let the moment go. He was going to cum a second time. I suspected he'd need some help. So I started whispering in his ear as I rocked my hips, grinding my clit against him.
"Did you like it when your little slut, M, rode you? Did she do it like this or did you like her to sit up straight and tall so you could see her little tits and watch your cock as it slid in and out of her? "
He didn't say anything, but he gabbed my hips and started pulling me, guiding me exactly how he wanted.
"Mmmm, nice. I'll bet she was a good little slut and did exactly what you said, didn't she? Did she love your cock as much as I do? Did she suck on it? Was she good at that?"
He spoke, breathlessly. "No one does it like you do."
Wow. That made me smile, and it almost made me lose focus, but I held on.
"That's because you know I love you. But her cunt was always nice and tight for you, wasn't it?"
He started pumping, thrusting his hips upward. Then suddenly he stopped and said, "Get off. I want you from behind."
Yeehaw! I thought. Here we go.... but then I couldn't get off. My knees had frozen up. LOL. Yes. I was stuck. I whispered in his ear, "I'm sure M never got stuck on you, did she?" And we both burst into laughter.
Slowly, very slowly, he helped me and I managed to get off and change positions. I was afraid that the hot mood was dead, but he got behind me, entered me and said, "Actually, her cunt was always perfect - warm, wet, tight.... Now shut the fuck up!" And he brought his hand down hard on my ass.
SLAP!
Ouch! But.....holy shit! Where did that come from??? I felt a little shudder in my pussy. That's it. All I need is a little Alpha, Dear.
He grabbed both my hips and started fucking me hard and fast. I tried to move with him, but I couldn't, he was in control. All I could do was hold on.
Then he said something that made my heart stop.
"Is this the way JJ fucked you?"
Shit. I didn't know what to say. The whole truth? That would be, "yes, but harder and faster and with a thicker cock." I decided that partial truth would do, so I just said, "Yes."
He slapped my ass again. Hard! And he started pumping me harder.
Then I had JJ on the brain, and I came very quickly after that, but he didn't slow down, which made it much more intense.
A few minutes later, he came, and he groaned loudly as he did. He pulled me back onto him and held me tightly for a while. Then he released me and collapsed on the bed next to me. I rolled over. He reached over and took my hand. We were both quiet for awhile. I was the one who spoke first.
"Was that pill one from the doctor or one from that online pharmacy that I found?"
"Online," he said, still catching his breath.
We looked at each other and we both smiled, then laughed.
A few minutes later, he said, "Kat?"
"Yes?"
"I don't think I can take another pill for a few days."
We laughed again.
"That's ok," I told him. "Let's just stay in today, shall we? Today was ...uh.....pretty good, don't you think?"
No answer. Just as I turned to look at him, I heard the snore. Poor guy was tuckered out.
And I was amazed. Just when I think it won't ever get any better, he surprises me. All he needed was a little more help from me, and all I needed was a little bit of Alpha.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Is Any Sex Better Than No Sex?
Hubby is out and about with friends tonight and I'm at home being Mom. Well, I'm always Mom, but you know what I mean. I'm caring for the kittens.
He texted me a few minutes ago.
"I forgot to tell you, I took a pill. :-D"
Of course it's obvious what pill he was talking about because he never gets all smiley over his blood pressure pill or his vitamins.
His text was Hubby-speak for "Let's have sex tonight."
What happened to the days of cuddling and talking and sex arising as a spontaneous result of desire? Most of the spontaneous thing left when kids came along. Now, it all comes down to a medical announcement.
Great. I guess the few hours of being with the kids between now and when he gets home is supposed to be the foreplay.
I hate to project negatively, but if tonight is anything like the last several times a pill was taken, it won't be anything to write home about. Know what I mean? It's not all his fault, either. It takes two for sex to be as boring and routine as ours. I've tried to initiate new things, but we always end up going back to the same old thing. I could do a better job of faking excitement, I suppose, but that's very hard to do with a man who won't kiss you.
I've talked about, and many of you have experienced, the pain of rejection when you tell your spouse you'd like to have sex and he (or she) rebuffs your advances. It sucks. But trying to build up some excitement during the act and to have that ignored is a kind of rejection, too. Who knew it would be possible to feel rejection during the act of sex? Well, it is.
In those situations, is that act of intercourse better than not having sex at all? I don't think so. Not having sex with the person you love can be frustrating and upsetting, but having soulless, completely unpassionate sex can be worse because you go into it thinking you have a chance for some intimacy when in reality it's just something physical. Two animals copulating. Wow. Who wants that? Many may choose to live with it, but who would want that kind of a sex life?
Not me.
I'm sure it doesn't help that I have experienced what real passion and intimacy are, so the comparison makes "pill nights" feel even more empty.
I'm sure I'll hear from people who have no spouse or partner telling me that I should be grateful. I am grateful, very grateful, for my husband. I love him very much. He means the world to me. He's the father of my children. But I'm not going to pretend I'm grateful for spirit killing sex. No way. That's like saying that you're grateful for financial problems because at least it means you have something to lose.
Above all, I am frustrated. How can two people who love each other as much as we do, who have been committed to each other for so long, who have been through hell and back together, who can talk to each other about just about anything be so incapable of making an intimate and satisfying sexual connection? I don't get it. There was a time when it was there. That's why we continue to chase it and try, I think.
I've thought about talking with him about it .....again.....but how do you tell someone you love that you feel so distant from them during sex that it's painful? That you feel closer to them and more connected when they're sick and puking their guts out than you do during sex. That you feel closer to them just about anytime than you do during sex. How do you do that? And how do you change it? We've tried the books and videos and all the professional advise over the years. It helped a little. The best post-children sex we ever had was the night he learned I had been cheating. That lasted for a few months. He was making an effort to compete, I think, and if he would keep doing that our sex life would be good. Not great, but good. But he fell back in the old routine and I let him....and here we are.
When the pill text came, I just looked at it for a moment and felt the flood of emotions wash through. Then I responded with a cute little texted kiss, exactly what was expected of me. I'll take a shower later on and pick up the bedroom, and pull out some lube and some toys (that won't be used). I'll go through the motions of getting ready. When he comes home, I'll decide. Do I try to spice things up with enthusiasm and sheer will and risk feeling that during-the-act-rejection? Or do I just go with the flow and see if something magically changes?
It's not that I don't like sex. To the contrary, I love it! But sex without enthusiasm and passion is not what I want. I can get that from someone from my AM phone list very quickly, without the emotional struggle of wishing it were better.
At this point in my life, I want more.
He texted me a few minutes ago.
"I forgot to tell you, I took a pill. :-D"
Of course it's obvious what pill he was talking about because he never gets all smiley over his blood pressure pill or his vitamins.
His text was Hubby-speak for "Let's have sex tonight."
What happened to the days of cuddling and talking and sex arising as a spontaneous result of desire? Most of the spontaneous thing left when kids came along. Now, it all comes down to a medical announcement.
Great. I guess the few hours of being with the kids between now and when he gets home is supposed to be the foreplay.
I hate to project negatively, but if tonight is anything like the last several times a pill was taken, it won't be anything to write home about. Know what I mean? It's not all his fault, either. It takes two for sex to be as boring and routine as ours. I've tried to initiate new things, but we always end up going back to the same old thing. I could do a better job of faking excitement, I suppose, but that's very hard to do with a man who won't kiss you.
I've talked about, and many of you have experienced, the pain of rejection when you tell your spouse you'd like to have sex and he (or she) rebuffs your advances. It sucks. But trying to build up some excitement during the act and to have that ignored is a kind of rejection, too. Who knew it would be possible to feel rejection during the act of sex? Well, it is.
In those situations, is that act of intercourse better than not having sex at all? I don't think so. Not having sex with the person you love can be frustrating and upsetting, but having soulless, completely unpassionate sex can be worse because you go into it thinking you have a chance for some intimacy when in reality it's just something physical. Two animals copulating. Wow. Who wants that? Many may choose to live with it, but who would want that kind of a sex life?
Not me.
I'm sure it doesn't help that I have experienced what real passion and intimacy are, so the comparison makes "pill nights" feel even more empty.
I'm sure I'll hear from people who have no spouse or partner telling me that I should be grateful. I am grateful, very grateful, for my husband. I love him very much. He means the world to me. He's the father of my children. But I'm not going to pretend I'm grateful for spirit killing sex. No way. That's like saying that you're grateful for financial problems because at least it means you have something to lose.
Above all, I am frustrated. How can two people who love each other as much as we do, who have been committed to each other for so long, who have been through hell and back together, who can talk to each other about just about anything be so incapable of making an intimate and satisfying sexual connection? I don't get it. There was a time when it was there. That's why we continue to chase it and try, I think.
I've thought about talking with him about it .....again.....but how do you tell someone you love that you feel so distant from them during sex that it's painful? That you feel closer to them and more connected when they're sick and puking their guts out than you do during sex. That you feel closer to them just about anytime than you do during sex. How do you do that? And how do you change it? We've tried the books and videos and all the professional advise over the years. It helped a little. The best post-children sex we ever had was the night he learned I had been cheating. That lasted for a few months. He was making an effort to compete, I think, and if he would keep doing that our sex life would be good. Not great, but good. But he fell back in the old routine and I let him....and here we are.
When the pill text came, I just looked at it for a moment and felt the flood of emotions wash through. Then I responded with a cute little texted kiss, exactly what was expected of me. I'll take a shower later on and pick up the bedroom, and pull out some lube and some toys (that won't be used). I'll go through the motions of getting ready. When he comes home, I'll decide. Do I try to spice things up with enthusiasm and sheer will and risk feeling that during-the-act-rejection? Or do I just go with the flow and see if something magically changes?
It's not that I don't like sex. To the contrary, I love it! But sex without enthusiasm and passion is not what I want. I can get that from someone from my AM phone list very quickly, without the emotional struggle of wishing it were better.
At this point in my life, I want more.
Monday, June 9, 2014
An incentive
Anyway, the California Department of Motor Vehicles sent me a lovely notice saying that I could renew online because I haven't had any tickets or been caught having sex in my car since my last renewal. Woohoo!
I went to the website. I followed the instructions. I followed the links. They took me to.....nowhere. Nada. Nothing. In short, there was no way I could take care of my business online. Ugh.
Shortly after that, I saw this silly little e-card that described exactly how I was feeling as I was struggling with the site. I laughed and thought, I wonder what would happen if I sent this to them. I wonder.....
So I did.
I opened a contact form and pasted it in.
I'll bet the site is operational by 8:30 tomorrow (Monday) morning.
Incentives work.
Friday, May 16, 2014
A Special Challenge
101 hilarious things you can call your lady garden
Interestingly, the name I give to my own special place is not listed.
The challenge? Be the first one to guess what I call mine.
The challenge is good for 24 hours from the time of posting. You can submit your guesses via comment or email. If you submit by email, I will probably post your entry publicly (anonymously, of course).
The prize? Free phone sex with me. If you win and don't want your prize, you can designate it to someone else.
To the friend who shared this with me, I'm sorry, but you're not eligible to play because I told you the answer already, but I'm sure we can work something out. ;-)
So, the challenge begins.......now!
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Room 201 (Part 2 of 2)
Click here to read Part 1 of this post.
******************
I smiled, rolled over, and positioned myself on my knees and forearms. He slid himself inside me and fucked me slowly for about 30 seconds, then he pulled out and pressed his cock into my ass. I squealed and pushed back against him. As he pounded my ass I had a split second flashback to a time about a year and a half ago when he told me that he didn't mind if I screwed around with someone else as long as I remembered that my ass was his.
I was about to giggle about that, but I was yanked out of my daydream by the burning sting I felt when he brought his hand down hard on my bottom. I flinched and squealed. He slapped me on the other side. I flinched again. I waited for another slap, but it didn't come. Instead, he rabbit-pumped me - hard!- until he came.
He leaned over and kissed my back, and then he rolled back onto the bed next to me and we kissed some more - not frantic and demanding kisses, but gentle and passionate ones.
"You know," I told him. "It's been well over a year since I had any anal and that was with you."
He smiled and said, "Good," and continued kissing me.
I suppose my ass is his.
In between kisses, we talked again, this time about what's going on with his work and how our hotel has changed ownership again. We figured that it had changed ownership about 4 times since our first time there. There's a poster on an easel in the lobby showing the newly renovated rooms, but the room we were in, one of our regular rooms, was exactly the same. Same mirror covering the whole wall at the head of the bed. Same carpet. Same ugly curtains that had come partially unhooked. The good news was that it was a bit cheaper now (Woohoo!).
He silenced my chatter by kissing me some more, and he got no argument from me. I've always loved his kisses.
Unexpectedly, he got up on his knees and patted my back.
"Come on," he said.
I raised an eyebrow. "Again?"
"Yep."
This time when he entered me I was in need again. I closed my eyes and didn't think. I just focused on the feelings and sensations. I was torn, wanting to come, but also wanting it to last forever. In the end, I had no choice. My body took over and I shuddered, then relaxed into the pleasure flowing electrically through my whole body. Through the fog, I felt him come. Then he leaned over and kissed my back, then my lower back. The contrast between the power he shows when he fucks me and the gentleness when he kisses my back like he does melts my heart every time.
We curled up together again and kissed some more. It occurred to him that we should check messages since both of our phones had been buzzing and beeping for the last hour. My messages didn't have anything that couldn't wait. Unfortunately, he had a message from his wife indicating that she needed him, so he had to go early. We took another 15 minutes, though, to cuddle, kiss, and talk. We cleaned up and got dressed, and before we left we agreed on the next time we'd meet. Parting was easier because I knew when I'd see him again.
When we got to the parking lot, he kissed me at my car, and then walked to his and drove away. And so our encounter was over.
This morning, I miss him. I'm sore from our playtime, but it's the kind of soreness I love. It reminds me of the passage from The Underfucked Pussy post that talks about a woman needing to fucked wide open by a man, needing his strength, his firmness, and his masculine energy. The soreness reminds me physically that I experienced that...
.....and that my ass is his.
******************
I smiled, rolled over, and positioned myself on my knees and forearms. He slid himself inside me and fucked me slowly for about 30 seconds, then he pulled out and pressed his cock into my ass. I squealed and pushed back against him. As he pounded my ass I had a split second flashback to a time about a year and a half ago when he told me that he didn't mind if I screwed around with someone else as long as I remembered that my ass was his.
I was about to giggle about that, but I was yanked out of my daydream by the burning sting I felt when he brought his hand down hard on my bottom. I flinched and squealed. He slapped me on the other side. I flinched again. I waited for another slap, but it didn't come. Instead, he rabbit-pumped me - hard!- until he came.
He leaned over and kissed my back, and then he rolled back onto the bed next to me and we kissed some more - not frantic and demanding kisses, but gentle and passionate ones.
"You know," I told him. "It's been well over a year since I had any anal and that was with you."
He smiled and said, "Good," and continued kissing me.
I suppose my ass is his.
In between kisses, we talked again, this time about what's going on with his work and how our hotel has changed ownership again. We figured that it had changed ownership about 4 times since our first time there. There's a poster on an easel in the lobby showing the newly renovated rooms, but the room we were in, one of our regular rooms, was exactly the same. Same mirror covering the whole wall at the head of the bed. Same carpet. Same ugly curtains that had come partially unhooked. The good news was that it was a bit cheaper now (Woohoo!).
He silenced my chatter by kissing me some more, and he got no argument from me. I've always loved his kisses.
Unexpectedly, he got up on his knees and patted my back.
"Come on," he said.
I raised an eyebrow. "Again?"
"Yep."
This time when he entered me I was in need again. I closed my eyes and didn't think. I just focused on the feelings and sensations. I was torn, wanting to come, but also wanting it to last forever. In the end, I had no choice. My body took over and I shuddered, then relaxed into the pleasure flowing electrically through my whole body. Through the fog, I felt him come. Then he leaned over and kissed my back, then my lower back. The contrast between the power he shows when he fucks me and the gentleness when he kisses my back like he does melts my heart every time.
We curled up together again and kissed some more. It occurred to him that we should check messages since both of our phones had been buzzing and beeping for the last hour. My messages didn't have anything that couldn't wait. Unfortunately, he had a message from his wife indicating that she needed him, so he had to go early. We took another 15 minutes, though, to cuddle, kiss, and talk. We cleaned up and got dressed, and before we left we agreed on the next time we'd meet. Parting was easier because I knew when I'd see him again.
When we got to the parking lot, he kissed me at my car, and then walked to his and drove away. And so our encounter was over.
This morning, I miss him. I'm sore from our playtime, but it's the kind of soreness I love. It reminds me of the passage from The Underfucked Pussy post that talks about a woman needing to fucked wide open by a man, needing his strength, his firmness, and his masculine energy. The soreness reminds me physically that I experienced that...
.....and that my ass is his.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Room 201 (Part 1 of 2)
I looked at my phone and the text read, "Room 201."
I replied, "Geez, you're already there?" He was about an hour early. That's ok. Eager is good.
I had to wait another 10-15 minutes before I could leave without attracting attention, but as soon as I could, I texted, "Leaving now."
The 30 minute drive went quickly. I wondered what it would be like to see him after so long. Would it be awkward? As good as before? Better?
When I pulled into the hotel parking lot, I sent my final text, "I'm here."
I walked in the front door and headed straight to the elevator and up to the second floor. Room 201 was close to the elevator. The door was propped open by the slider lock. I pushed the door open and returned the lock to its proper position before closing the door.
I stepped in."Hello?"
He walked around the corner and stood in front of me. I smiled and said, " Hi, JJ." He slipped his arms around me and said, "Hi, Baby" just before kissing me deeply. We stood there kissing for a long time. Eventually he pulled off my blouse and bra and touched a breast. I sighed what would be the first of many sighs acknowledging both the pleasure of the sensations and memories of experiencing them before.
He reached a hand into my pants and started stroking my clit. I wiggled out of my pants to give him easier access. His was an experienced touch. He knew exactly how to please me. He should. He's had years of practice.
I started tugging on his shirt, trying to get it off. He pulled it off for me, then his pants, and we jumped into bed. It made me smile that before we did, we followed the same routine of pulling back the bedspread - him on his side and me on mine - and then the blanket and sheet. It had been 11 months since we'd seen each other, but those little routines and habits were still there.
We got in bed and I curled up next to him, feeling a comfortable understanding that this was where I belonged. It felt right. He kissed me again and again before sliding his hand between my legs. He slid a couple of fingers inside me, finger fucking me. After a couple of minutes, he rubbed his palm across my clit with each stroke. That was like flipping a switch. I was still kissing him, and I screamed into his mouth as I came, bucking against his hand.
I knew that was his warm up. As soon as my shuddering subsided, he said, "Get on your knees." I scurried into position. He moved behind me and slid his hard cock into me slowly. I sighed and moaned this time. Ohmygod it felt amazing, filling me completely.
Not only do I *love* JJ's cock, but I haven't had a cock inside me for a few months. I know. That's crazy, isn't it? Me! After a while, you tell yourself that you don't really need it, and that works until you are fucked again and reminded exactly how much you do need it.
"Fuck me!" I moaned loudly, hoping he would go faster, and he did. I got dizzy when he started pounding me full force, not because it hurt, but because it was pure pleasure - all control taken away, grabbing onto the sheets and bracing myself by putting a hand on the wall in front of me to keep from being pushed into it, his fingers digging into my hips. The orgasm came on me like an explosion, like the dizziness was the burning fuse and the launch propelled me to another level of pleasure. I screamed and bucked against him. Soon after I came, while I was still coming, actually, he released into me, groaning loudly, pulling me back onto him as he took his final thrusts.
After he came he pulled out and collapsed next to me. Holy shit! I thought. I have missed that so much. I looked at him and realized I've missed him so much.
I curled up next to him and we kissed some more. In between kisses, we finally talked.
"I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too."
"I never stopped loving you."
"Me, neither."
"Don't ever leave me again."
"I won't."
Eventually, we started talking about ordinary things. Had he started training yet for that upcoming race? How my boys are, what's going on with his family, you saved how much when you switched from AT&T to T-Mobile?
More kisses, then he reached between my legs again. Time to go again? I thought. He answered that unspoken question a moment later when he smiled and said, "On your knees again."
To be continued.....
I replied, "Geez, you're already there?" He was about an hour early. That's ok. Eager is good.
I had to wait another 10-15 minutes before I could leave without attracting attention, but as soon as I could, I texted, "Leaving now."
The 30 minute drive went quickly. I wondered what it would be like to see him after so long. Would it be awkward? As good as before? Better?
When I pulled into the hotel parking lot, I sent my final text, "I'm here."
I walked in the front door and headed straight to the elevator and up to the second floor. Room 201 was close to the elevator. The door was propped open by the slider lock. I pushed the door open and returned the lock to its proper position before closing the door.
I stepped in."Hello?"
He walked around the corner and stood in front of me. I smiled and said, " Hi, JJ." He slipped his arms around me and said, "Hi, Baby" just before kissing me deeply. We stood there kissing for a long time. Eventually he pulled off my blouse and bra and touched a breast. I sighed what would be the first of many sighs acknowledging both the pleasure of the sensations and memories of experiencing them before.
He reached a hand into my pants and started stroking my clit. I wiggled out of my pants to give him easier access. His was an experienced touch. He knew exactly how to please me. He should. He's had years of practice.
I started tugging on his shirt, trying to get it off. He pulled it off for me, then his pants, and we jumped into bed. It made me smile that before we did, we followed the same routine of pulling back the bedspread - him on his side and me on mine - and then the blanket and sheet. It had been 11 months since we'd seen each other, but those little routines and habits were still there.
We got in bed and I curled up next to him, feeling a comfortable understanding that this was where I belonged. It felt right. He kissed me again and again before sliding his hand between my legs. He slid a couple of fingers inside me, finger fucking me. After a couple of minutes, he rubbed his palm across my clit with each stroke. That was like flipping a switch. I was still kissing him, and I screamed into his mouth as I came, bucking against his hand.
I knew that was his warm up. As soon as my shuddering subsided, he said, "Get on your knees." I scurried into position. He moved behind me and slid his hard cock into me slowly. I sighed and moaned this time. Ohmygod it felt amazing, filling me completely.
Not only do I *love* JJ's cock, but I haven't had a cock inside me for a few months. I know. That's crazy, isn't it? Me! After a while, you tell yourself that you don't really need it, and that works until you are fucked again and reminded exactly how much you do need it.
"Fuck me!" I moaned loudly, hoping he would go faster, and he did. I got dizzy when he started pounding me full force, not because it hurt, but because it was pure pleasure - all control taken away, grabbing onto the sheets and bracing myself by putting a hand on the wall in front of me to keep from being pushed into it, his fingers digging into my hips. The orgasm came on me like an explosion, like the dizziness was the burning fuse and the launch propelled me to another level of pleasure. I screamed and bucked against him. Soon after I came, while I was still coming, actually, he released into me, groaning loudly, pulling me back onto him as he took his final thrusts.
After he came he pulled out and collapsed next to me. Holy shit! I thought. I have missed that so much. I looked at him and realized I've missed him so much.
I curled up next to him and we kissed some more. In between kisses, we finally talked.
"I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too."
"I never stopped loving you."
"Me, neither."
"Don't ever leave me again."
"I won't."
Eventually, we started talking about ordinary things. Had he started training yet for that upcoming race? How my boys are, what's going on with his family, you saved how much when you switched from AT&T to T-Mobile?
More kisses, then he reached between my legs again. Time to go again? I thought. He answered that unspoken question a moment later when he smiled and said, "On your knees again."
To be continued.....
Saturday, February 15, 2014
An Unforgettable Event
I watched the first several episiodes of House of Cards on Netflix last night. In episode 2, one of the main characters reveals that she had been raped in college. She had kept it quiet for 25 years, telling no one but her husband, but then her rapist appears in her life again briefly. He acts like nothing ever happened and he even leaned over and kissed her cheek. A few days later, she publicly shared what happened and named her rapist.
Seeing him brought back the memories and the feelings surrounding the awful event, and finally, 25 years after the fact, she took her power back and put the pressure back on her rapist. Will that make her feel better?
Maybe. Priobably not. But it's worth it to her if there is any chance at relief. Relief from what?
Watching her situation play out triggered my own memories. Her assault took place about 25 years prior to the accusation of her rapist. Mine was only 11 years ago. Writing that feels so strange. Eleven years. That was before my youngest child was born. That sounds like a long time ago, but it feels like last week.
I was just watching the show, excited that the new new season was finally here, and my heart started racing, I felt sick to my stomach, and my eyes quickly filled with tears. When that happens, I know I can't close my eyes because then the images will start flashing in front of of me, but the longer I hold out, the more likely it is that I'll start seeing the images anyway.
That's when the full blown PTSD hits. Then I can't see anything. I can barely breathe, and emotionally it feels like I'm right back there - fighting back until I had no fight left; feeling every blow, every cut, every thrust; wondering if I'd ever see my family again.
Sometimes it hits out of the blue. It will be sparked by a particular smell or the way shadows fall on the street or a man wearing a brown sportscoat. Then I feel a sense of panic and all that goes with it - rapid heartbeat, queasy stomach, sweaty brow and palms. Imagine the emotional and physical sensations of being chased by someone with a weapon who wants to kill you. Then imagine them just erupting within you when you're not in immenent danger at all, just because you passed by someone in a the grocery store wearing a certain cologne or you hear a car door slam. Sometimes you have no idea at all why it hit you.
So you isolate yourself. Sometimes it's isolation in a crowd, where you seem to socialize a lot, but you're careful not to let anyone really know you. You try to bottle up feelings that can't be bottled up. Eventually, they'll explode. Until then, you'll be alone.
Over 22 million women in the United States have been raped. That's about 1 in every 6 women. Almost a third of rape victims develop PTSD at some point in their lifetime and 11% still have PTSD today,
In addition, 30% of rape victims suffer from major depression. They are 4.1 times more likely than non-crime victims to have comtemplated suicide, and 13 times more likely to attempt suicide than non-crime victims.
And it doesn't only happen to women. Almost three million American men have been raped, going way beyond the estimated 600,000 inmates in the prison system who have been raped.
While only 70% of female rape victims withhold the information from their families, 90% of male victims don't tell anyone. It took me 8 years to tell my husband and that was because the PTSD was so bad I had to either tell him or let him think I was crazy.
It strikes me that there are millions of women walking around as survivers of sexual assault who have PTSD and/or are suffering from other negative effects who are not even aware of what's really going on.
They don't want to say anything because they think they'll be judged, and all the evidence indicates that they are right. People expect soldiers to have PTSD, but they don't expect it from a homemaker or businesswoman.
What if we just assumed that whenever a woman exhibits behaviors like those I described above she just might be suffering from something? What if we just assumed that she had suffered and was recovering from an unforgettable event? What if we chose to be compassionate without knowing exactly what's happening?
For women who have been raped and end up with PTSD, recovery takes place over decades, not months. The impact of that one unforgettable event lasts a lifetime.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
A Few Tips for Mistress Day Gifts
Mistress gift giving may not be easy, but don't ignore the holiday. That would send a message you probably don't want to send - that she's not important to you, that you don't care enough to recognize the holiday.
First, let's start with the card. Of course you'll want to get her a card. If you give her a physical card, she's going to have to throw it away, as much as she doesn't want to. One strategy is to get a card, write your personal note in it, scan it, and then after you have given her the card, you can email her the scanned version. You can also send an e-card, but not as much effort goes into those, so they are not quite as special.
You can also give her a love letter, or love email, in lieu of a card. The whole point of a love letter is to share your feelings. If you're not prepared to do that, then this is not the option for you.
Speaking of feelings....if you love her, for godsake, just tell her! Get over the mental masturbation you practice whenever the L word comes up about what kind of commitment it means, whether you can love your wife and another woman, and how long it may last. Forget all that. I'm talking about pure emotion, completely divorced from your logical mind. If you love her right now, tell her so. We all know that tomorrow is never guaranteed, but to avoid love today because you're afraid it won't be here tomorrow is just....well, silly. You're alive now. She's in your life now.
And if you've been avoiding the L word for some reason, there's not a better gift in the world you could give her.
What about other gifts? You need to select something that she can easily slip into her regular life unnoticed. What fits into this category is different for every woman. Some of us can slip an pair of earrings into the jewelry box unnoticed and others of us can't. As many of you know, I'm a big fan of small, inexpensive, but meaningful gifts. I like little things that I can use or carry every day that will remind me of the giver. I know I may be in the minority and that many women like expensive gifts, but that has never been me. My favorite gift has always been, and remains, books. I go through so many books that Hubby never notices new ones and when he does, he assumes I bought them for myself, which is usually true.
Don't forget about gift certificates for massages and other spa services. Make her feel good when you're not with her making her feel good.
Or you can go for sex toys and/or tasty lubricants. Those come with a storage issue (where do you hide it safely?), but they also make your playtime more fun and they can become one of those gifts that keeps on giving.
Whatever you do, make sure you think about your sweetie when you do it and select something that is particularly special for her.
What about turning the tables? What should women know about Mistress Day gifts for their lovers. I know I'm exposing the double standard, but women are not expected to recognize the holiday with their lovers unless they choose to. If you want to, go ahead, but keep the same guidelines in mind.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
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