Phone Sex, Anyone?

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.

Between Jobs

T and I only managed to find about 45 minutes to meet yesterday.  You'd think it would be easier to make time to meet, but sometimes it just doesn't work out that way.

I was hoping to connect with him around noon after a meeting and spend the afternoon together. Unfortunately, the time he had available after he finished up a job in the morning evaporated when he learned he had another job to get to in the afternoon.

Sure I was disappointed, but I wanted to see him anyway, so we decided to meet for a few minutes. I drove into a parking lot shared by a Carl's Jr and a grocery store in the town next to mine. It didn't take long to find his car where he was sitting and reading the paper, shaded by a big tree.

I pulled up next to him and parked.  We both got out of our vehicles and walked to greet each other.

He smiled and said, "A van, huh?"

I was a little confused.  All I was thinking about was kissing him, but he was one step ahead of me.  I had driven the family van that day, instead of my teeny tiny Civic because I had to pick up a colleague at the airport earlier in the day.

"Yes," I answered. "I have the van today."  Then I took his face in my hands and kissed him. Yes, right there out in the open in front of all the shoppers and lunch-goers. T slid his arms around me and kissed me again, deeper and more passionately.

After about 30 second of kissing, we decided to get in the van.  We sat in the front seat first and got back to kissing.  In between kisses, we chatted a bit and I caught myself staring at him and smiling. He had a couple of days worth of stubble (which I love!) and his hair was a bit mussed.  He was a man who had been working, and from my perspective, there aren't many things hotter than that.  Sure, I like a man in uniform or a tux, but I'll take one who looked exactly like T did yesterday afternoon over the others any day.

And it doesn't hurt that my heart melts when he smiles a me, something that still catches me off-guard after all this time.

After a couple of minutes, T suggested that we move to the back seat. We each got out and opened the sliding door on our respective sides. Then we put down the middle row of seats and climbed into the back. I noticed a man in a white truck parked in the row behind us.  He was watching.  I blushed a little because I knew what we were doing would be pretty obvious to anyone who was watching. I pointed him out to T who dismissed it by noting that the windows were tinted so he shouldn't be able to see.

The side windows are definitely tinted and didn't worry me at all, but the back window - not so much.  Actually, I couldn't remember how much the back window was tinted and I couldn't tell from the inside. We sat down on the back seat and I looked back.  There was White Truck, staring at me.

I started to get even more nervous, but then T wrapped his arms around me and started to kiss me and I didn't give a damn about White Truck anymore.

We made out like kids for a while, in the middle of the day in the back of Hubby's van. Did I mention that?  The van is the vehicle that Hubby drives every day, but yesterday it was our hotel room.

I was lost in his kisses when I felt him reaching into my pants and sliding his hand down between my legs. He rubbed my clit slowly while I rocked my hips and moaned into his mouth. I came quickly the first time.  He slid a couple of fingers inside me and I bucked against his hand as I let the orgasm play out.

As is T's style, he didn't stop once I had come, but he kept going, changing things up a little but grabbing some of the remaining energy from my first orgasm to start the journey to orgasm #2. I don't even try to resist anymore. I know he's going to make me keep coming until he's ready to stop.  My job is to go with it, so I did.  The second one was much more intense. As I started to let go, I put my head back and T kissed and sucked on my neck. I screamed and opened my eyes briefly, just enough to see White Truck staring right at us. It seemed like he could see, but maybe not. I didn't really care.

After orgasm #2 I was whimpering and wiggling a little, trying to escape some of the intensity I was feeling as T's fingers continued to work their magic. In no time at all, though, as usual, I was coming again, this time looking directly into his eyes. He smiled, and my heart melted right along with the rest of me.

I know he can keep that going for a long, long time because I've experienced that with him before, but were short on time so he stopped after he'd given me three. I snuggled against him purring, and he kissed me deeply. It felt like nap time to me.

But there was more to do. I asked him if I could have a taste.  He agreed, but he looked around nervously as he unfastened his pants, talking about the tinted windows again.  I glanced back and saw White Truck, as focused as ever.

T scooted over to the end of the seat and I knelt/squatted/sat between the second and third row of seats so I could easily access his gift for me. There was no time to play and tease, so I got down to business.  I took him into my mouth slowly, sucking off some precum and increasing the speed and tightness over the next minute or so. I felt his hand on my shoulder and he pulled on my hair a little bit, but not much. He came soon, but it didn't seem very intense.  I figured he was just uncomfortable being in public like that.

We talked and kissed a little while more.  Then I asked, "Can I have some more?"  I looked down at his cock and then back at his face.

What's a guy supposed to say in that situation?  T said, "Sure," giving me access again, Then he added, "I know you know how to raise the dead."  And I did.

I knew he was more into it the second time because he grabbed my hair tightly and pumped my head up and down exactly as he wanted. I could hear him breathing harder and moaning, and then he pushed and held me down on him and groaned wildly when he came.

As his cum was spurting into my mouth, I thought, That's my T. :-)  If I could have smiled at that moment, I would have, but I couldn't do anything except swallow and wait. It was delightful.

I sat next to him again and we kissed for a few minutes more before realizing that he really had to go.  We stayed longer than we had planned as it was.

As we climbed out of the van I saw White Truck still in the same place and he was still watching. Great, I thought sarcastically.  An audience that won't leave.

We put the van back in the condition it was in before we played.  We double and triple checked to be sure that T had everything he came with, like his keys and his sunglasses. Nothing could be left behind because Hubby would be driving that vehicle within an hour and he notices things.

Before he got back into his car, T gave me a hug and another nice, deep kiss. He got into the car and I saw White Truck get out of his car. I scurried to get into the van, and then I noticed that he was just getting something from the back of the truck before getting back in the driver's seat and driving away. Apparently, there was nothing left for him to see.

As I headed home, I drove with the windows down for a few minutes to make sure the van smelled as fresh as it did when I left the house in the morning.

Quite a Mouthful!

If I Swallow a Couple Loads of Cum, Can I Ditch My Daily Protein Shake?

I've had the same unusual thought twice in the last 24 hours.  The first was yesterday morning as I was swallowing my second load of T's delicious cum.  The second was while I was chatting with SNS Guy this afternoon.

How much protein is really in semen?  And is it enough for me to substitute it for a protein shake?  As you know, I love giving BJs and it sure is more fun and fulfilling than mixing up a protein shake. I've never had a lover  groan and pull my hair while watching me down a protein shake, either.

So, I decided to find out how much protein is really in semen so I could answer my question. First, I scoured the internet for information from all the most reputable popular sources, such as Wikipedia, ask.com, men.com, and Yahoo answers.  I can tell you that the information from those sources varied significantly.  Who should I believe?

So I decided to bite the bullet and look for information among the scientists and the topic specific sites.  That means I must issue a Science Alert here, but don't worry, I'll put it into everyday language as best I can so those of you who prefer not to think won't have to worry your pretty little heads about it.

First, the basics.

Semen is made up of sperm, water, sugars, proteins and amino acids, vitamins (C, B12, and choline), hormones, enzymes, and and trace elements of some body byproducts (lactic acid, uric acid, nitrogen). Interestingly, there's almost twice as much sugar as protein in semen, but we're talking about such a small amount that the carbs won't ruin your Atkins diet.

To calculate the protein content of semen, we need to know the typical volume of semen per ejaculate. In other words, what is the average load volume? There is some discrepancy in the literature, but the consensus seems to be that it ranges from 3/4 of a teaspoon to a full tablespoon.  That's a pretty big range for average, but there it is.  I know for a fact that Webcam Guy's loads were a lot bigger than a tablespoon, but he's not average, of course. Anyway, we'll calculate the average volume at about a teaspoon.

Scientists calculate between 171 mg and 500 mg per load.  Yes, that's quite a range, too. As you can see, an exact calculation will be impossible to do using averages, but we can get close. Let's use 500 mg just because it will make the math easier, but be aware that it will be lower in most cases.

There are 20 grams of protein in the brand of protein shake I use. Because 500 mg = .5 gram, it would take 40 loads of semen to replace the protein content of my shake.  Clearly, I can't get enough protein that way to replace my daily shake. Dang.

But I sure would love to try.

I know what some of you are thinking.  Is the amount of protein the same for the ejaculate of a man who has had a vasectomy?  (Isn't that what you were thinking?) Well, because there's lots of protein in sperm, there must be less protein in ejaculate with sperm.  However, sperm only make up 1-5% of the stuff in semen and the other stuff in semen also has some protein, so while there is less protein in a load of cum without sperm, there's still a reasonable amount.

So, if I were blowing a guy who'd had a vasectomy, it could take about 60 - 80 loads to replace my protein shake. Wow.  That's a lot. It could take me 6 months just to replace one shake!

As long as we're speaking of semen, you may want to know that a load averages 5-15 calories, depending on the size of the load and the man's diet, so you can tell assure your wife (or Lover, or both) that giving you head and swallowing won't ruin her diet.

Now you have inspired me. Look for coming posts on Why Blow Jobs Are Good for You (a tool for convincing your lover to blow you) and How Can You Make Your Sperm Taste Yummy.

Postcoital Comfort

They lay together quietly

Breathing rapidly, resting

Nested against each other

Legs entwined

Kisses interspersed with silence

Then easy conversation

As droplets of perspiration fall and dry

Laughter

More kisses

A sheet pulled over their legs

Fighting off a chill

Words of love shared

More kisses to seal their private moment

Of perfect postcoital comfort

A Must Read

I was reading through the recent posts on my naughty blogs list earlier today, and I came across  All He Could Do Was Moan.  It was written by Victoria Vista and it appears on her Sexual Destinies blog.

I think you should read it because it's beautifully written.  Even though it is very brief, you can feel the sense of anticipation and tension. Even if you're not into cock cages (she has a picture on the page if you don't know what that is), you'll still be able to appreciate the beauty of her writing.

As you know, I don't call out good writing on sex blogs very often. That means you should pay attention and go check it out.

Have you read a really good post lately that you'd like to share?  Tell us in the comments, and don't forget to share the link.

Writing in the Real World

As most of you know, I write for a living.  I used to do only one type of writing - the most stressful, tedious, boring kind that you can imagine (also the most lucrative), but I've branched out in recent years and now I'll write just about anything I can get someone to pay me for.

What a sell out.  I know, right?

The only excuse I have is that I have to support my family. That's a pretty good excuse, now that I think about it.

But trust me.  If I could earn a living doing nothing but writing for you guys, I would do it. This is one of the few places where I can be myself, end a sentence with a preposition (without giving a shit), and use the Oxford comma (or not), as the mood strikes me. This is the place where I can be completely honest and know that it's ok. There is no other place like PWK in my life, and no other people I respect and enjoy as much as you.

Recently, I joined a few online writing groups to see if I can make a connection with other writers in the "real world." It has been an interesting experiment. I shared a few sexual-themed poems with my poetry group and waited for feedback.

Crickets.  That's all I heard. They were shocked.  When the comments finally started coming, they were about the sexual content, not the structure or craft of the poem.  I was a bit disappointed.  I ended up revising one of them myself and submitting it to an online literary journal for publication, fully expecting it would be rejected as smut, but no! It was selected for publication and my real name will appear in the byline.

Hubby isn't too happy.  "Do you have to say, 'As he entered me...'? Can't you make it less graphic?"

"Are you kidding?" I answered. "That's not graphic at all.  Graphic would be something like 'I gasped  and arched my back as I felt all 8 inches of his hard, hot, throbbing cock slide into my wet cunt.' But that's not very poetic, is it?"

"Oh," he said sheepishly. "I guess it's ok like it is."

Yeah, I thought so.

That is exactly what's so difficult about taking erotic writing into the mainstream. People still think of it as dirty.

I'm working on a smutty romance novel right now that has some beautiful lovemaking/sex scenes in it. In my mind, they are anything but dirty.  They are beautiful, lyrical, almost poetic in the blend of love and sex that they describe. Ok, poetic may be going a bit too far, but you know what I mean, right?  My non-PWK reviewers, though, see dirty smut.

One wrote, "For the oral sex scene, can't you say hardness instead of 'cock'?  'Cock' seems so crass."

"No," I answered. "A woman doesn't want  to put a man's hardness in her mouth.  She wants to put a hard cock in her mouth.  It's a subtle, but important, distinction."

And I didn't even have to put the word cock in quotation marks, like the rest of the sentence needs to be protected from its filthiness. If you can't handle the word cock, maybe you shouldn't be reviewing my writing.  I'm just sayin'. I happen to love cocks.  They are nothing to be ashamed of.

(See? I ended another sentence with a proposition.  Ooooo, I feel so naughty!)

In fact, I think I'll write a poem using as many words for cock as I can. I think the bucket needs more stirring.

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!

An Afternoon Escape with T (Part 2 of 2)

This is Part 2.  If you'd like to read Part 1 of An Afternoon Escape with T, click here.

******************************

Looking at T's face is one of my favorite things to do.  I've already told you that he's ruggedly handsome, and that's true.

Forget about the shirtless Abercrombie & Fitch models who have never seen a day of hard work in their lives. They have those little ripply muscles that were made in a gym, not the real world, and those will go away when they are older, their modeling days are over and they are not paid to hang out in a gym for 4 hours a day. Their eyes are blue, but they look hollow, and you wonder if the blue is real or from colored contacts. They are a type of handsome, sure, but it's a faux-handsome.  Its more like "pretty."

Now picture another guy.  Let's say you meet while camping by the river. Dark hair, dark eyes. You watch him move firewood and set up camp. He takes off his shirt and he has a real man's body - strong, a little hairy (but not too much), proportioned. His skin is glistening with perspiration and he rubs a towel over his hair and face. He turns to look at you and you lose your breath for a second when he smiles. He's not a model, but a regular guy, and that makes him hotter, much more appealing to you. He reaches for a beer and you notice the muscles in his chest and arms again. They are flexing in a natural way, moving as he moves, not just sticking out like permanent artificial attachments or growths. He sits down in a camp chair to relax and stretches his legs out.  You notice a few scars here and there on his tan skin as you try not to fixate on his sexy mouth, the late-afternoon stubble on his chin and cheek, or the faraway look in his eyes when he thinks you're not looking anymore. The closer and longer you look, the more you think Wow.  This guy is really good looking, but it's the kind of attractiveness that you don't notice until you really stop and look. You look around at the other men nearby to check your theory and you realize you're right. This one is different. He's the kind of handsome that comes from living and working and sacrificing and taking care of other people. Nothing about that is fake.  The Abercrombie boys are nothing next to this guy, even though he could easily blend in with a crowd without turning every woman's head as they pass by. Those who take a good look, though, will turn and watch him, and they'll notice all the pieces come together until a minute later they realize that they are staring at a very attractive, real man.

That's T.

I was having that realization again - that he's so attractive  - when he entered me deeply and pulled all of my attention to that one and only thought. I gasped and my mouth dropped open. Not only did it feel marvelous, but it was the first time.  Yes, the first time his cock had been inside me.  We had thoroughly enjoyed our oral and manual fun for a long time, but this.....

I pulled my knees up toward my chest and tried to keep my eyes on his while he fucked me, but every now and then I had to close my eyes to focus on the perfect sensation of his cock inside me. He continued for quite a while, which was awesome, but then we stopped for a moment and I suggested we try it from behind.

"Can you do that?" he asked, referring to the same issue he mentioned earlier when I was kneeling on the floor.  My answer was simple. "Yes."  Not only did I know I could, but I knew it wouldn't hurt and I knew I was going to be feeling so good when I came from doing it that way that I wanted to hurry.

We got in position and I felt him behind me. I spread my knees a little wider to adjust my height and he slid inside me easily, deeper this time, and I leaned back against him. What followed wasn't gently and sweet. It was fast, hard fucking. It took me no time at all to come again, and I screamed, pushing back against him, trying to hold onto the pleasure that was reverberating through me while he was pounding me HARD from behind. He came soon after that, and then he collapsed next to me, covered with sweat and breathing hard.

We just lay there quietly for a bit, holding hands, catching our breath. Then we started talking about this and that.  I rolled onto my side and leaned over to kiss him. This may sound silly but I never get tired of kissing that man. I could kiss him for hours.  Ok, that's probably not a great idea, but I could.

I'm not sure how much time had passed while we were kissing and talking, talking and kissing, but after one of our prolonged kissing bouts he said, "I want you taste us."  I knew exactly what he meant. I scooched down toward the foot of his bed and licked his cock. One little lick.  Then another.  Another. Then I moaned and took the whole thing in my mouth.  Yes, I could taste both of us. I licked and suckled and swallowed until I felt his cock go from firm to immalleable and unyeilding. Even though he had just come 20 minutes before, I felt his hands on the back of my head, his fingers tightening around my hair, and his hips thrusting upward. I matched him, stroke for stroke, until he exploded into my mouth.

I love the groan a man makes when he comes. I really do. When I hear it, I feel victorious, like there was just a little bit of a power swap and I won. He may have thought he was in control, but that guttural groan means he wasn't in control for that moment. In that moment, he was mine. All mine.

I lingered a bit, keeping his cock in my mouth until I was certain he was finished.  Then I swallowed one last time and gently licked his cock and balls until they were all cleaned up.

I scooched back up and into his arms.  The rest of our time together was spent kissing and talking, and talking and kissing some more, until it was time to go.

We got cleaned up and dressed, and I would be the first to go.  He was going to hang out there for a while. I picked up my purse and keys and I turned toward the door. That's when I saw my cane hanging from the chair where I had left it when I came in. I grabbed it and whispered under my breath, "Fucking stairs."  T was right there next to me, and he slid his arms around me again and kissed me just like he did when I walked in the door a few hours before. We said our goodbyes and I heard the door close behind me as I walked down the hall.

With every step, I could feel the peace of our afternoon escape slipping away. By the time I was at my car, my mental To Do list had forced itself to the front and center of my mind and I knew that by the time I walked through my front door at home, the last remnants of the escape would be completely gone and I'd be inundated again with chores and demands. The family would want dinner.  I'd have clients that would want their phone calls returned. The list would just keep going from there and my life wouldn't be my own again.

Then I shifted in my seat a little and remembered. T's gorgeous cock had been inside me and it was unbelievably wonderful. Then I saw his face in my mind and remembered our kisses, and it occurred to me that all of that was mine. The rest of my life couldn't take away my time with him or the way he made me feel. It was all mine.

An Afternoon Escape with T (Part 1 of 2)

We arrived at the hotel at the same time. I drove to the back of the parking lot to wait in the shade for him to text me with a room number.  He turned the other way, driving toward the office.

I rolled down the windows and closed my eyes. The warm breeze passed through my car, seemingly carrying away my stress and concerns of the day, too. That's how it always is when I'm alone with him - nothing but him and me and that moment. All the stuff I have to deal with during the rest of my life is completely absent. Next to being with him, I think that's what I really love about these times. I get to be truly in the moment for a couple of hours.  Oh, I try to be mentally present all the time, but I never seem to master it on my own.  My brain keeps piping in with a million things that need to be done. Real peace is rare for me.

But I was starting to feel it as I relaxed into the breeze that afternoon. The silence was broken by the buzz of my phone announcing his text. Room 214. They only had upstairs. Sorry.  

Ugh. It's not that I mind stairs, but I'm unable to negotiate stairs without my cane and in the months I'd been seeing T, I had managed to keep him from seeing me with my cane, for the most part. I used simple tricks - park close to the room and be careful, get to his place first and be sitting on a bench waiting for him to arrive. But there was no way I could avoid it now.

Half of you are probably thinking, Why is it a big deal? (The other half of you are thinking, Kat? A cane? What?  How did I miss that?  You didn't miss anything. I just don't share it much. Canes aren't that sexy, are they?  However, I'm starting to think it may be my job to make them sexy! LOL) Anyway, it's not a big deal.  It's just my ego and my struggles with my own self-image. There was a time in my life when I would have driven away rather than be faced with this situation.  But I'm a grown up now. And this was T in that room.

I made it up the stairs and to the room. He had left the door open so I walked in. He heard me and turned and looked at me at smiled.  Damn, that man is ruggedly handsome.  Then his eyes dashed quickly to the cane and back to my face again.

Have you ever had a moment in which it seemed like many things happened all within the duration of a split second?  That's what I experienced right then. I felt fear and embarrassment and I quickly said, "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to see the cane, but the stairs....." Why was I apologizing? I had nothing to apologize for. Before I finished the sentence, he was standing in front of me, reaching out to pull me closer to him. "It's ok," he said. "No big deal."  And he kissed me deeply. I hooked the cane on the back of chair and held onto him instead.

And there it was again. The feeling that came along with that warm breeze, shooing the rest of the world and all my stress away until only the two of us were in that room and nothing outside those walls mattered. We stood there kissing a while and then we stopped for a bit because both of us had just been on the road.  We needed a bathroom break and a chance to clean up a bit.

The beginning of a lovemaking (or hot sex, or both, whatever the case may be) session is always interesting, and it changes base on how long you've known each other, how comfortable you are, and how horny you are, of course. Sometimes you just rip each others' clothes off.  Sometimes you undress slowly, interrupted by kissing and soft touching.  Sometimes, you chit chat and undress while you talk, waiting until you're both naked to get started. T and I were somewhere between the last two options. I often find myself torn between wanting to talk to him, kiss him, stare into his eyes, and suck on his cock. Of course, I can't do all of those at once, which is a darn shame. The good news, though, is that I knew I'll get to do all of them soon.

He lay down on the bed and I grabbed a pillow and threw it on the floor. "Turn this way," I said, smiling. He smiled a knowing smile and  sat on the edge on of the bed. I nudged his legs apart and knelt between them. "Whoa," he said. "Can you do that?" He was referring to my kneeling on the fake hardwood floor. I just smiled and said, "That's what the pillow's for," and leaned forward to take his cock into my mouth.

Before I go on, let me say this:  It was a lie.  It hurt like hell and I knew it would. There's my ego again, my image of myself, my refusal to accept reality. At that moment, something hit me. Not everything from the outside stays on the other side of that door. Some things have to come with us, no matter how much we'd like to lock them out.

It hurt, but I knew he didn't know it. I'm chuckling right now because I know he'll be reading this and thinking, What the hell, Kat? Why didn't you say something?  There's only one honest answer.  Because I'm an idiot - too proud, too scared, too stubborn. I think he's been those things at various times in his life, too. Haven't we all?

Pain aside, I loved getting his cock into my mouth. I suckled him for a while, alternating between deep and shallow strokes, playing more than seriously working toward orgasm. I knew he wouldn't let me make him come right then. We had just started.  He'd want to wait a while so he could enjoy it all more. I considered taking that decision out of his hands, and a couple of times I took him into my throat. I could tell he was getting close, but ultimately he tapped out (tapping my shoulder) and suggested I get up on the bed with him.

I agreed, and I started to comply, but then I stopped. In my exuberance and foolish excitement about getting on my knees, I had completely forgotten about the second half of that project.  Getting up. At first, I was struck with panic.  What if I have to ask him to help me? Seriously, at that moment, that seemed like a fate almost worse than death.  Knowing someone has a disability is one thing. Seeing evidence of it (cane, wheelchair, etc.) is something else. But having to be involved in physically helping with what to others are simple movements? That's way on the un-sexy side of the scale in my mind. Sort of.  Only when it's me. Could my perception of his sexiness be negatively impacted if I needed to help him? My perception of a man's sexuality is much broader than any set of physical characteristics. The question I continue to ask myself is this - Why is it so hard for me to believe that he wouldn't be put off my this stuff? T is a good man.  I know he, like all of us, has struggles of his own.  I know he doesn't judge me.

I proceeded slowly and eventually I made it up and onto the bed. I nestled in next to him and his hands started exploring me as we kissed. My neck, my cheek, the back of my head, my shoulder, my arm, my breast, my hip...... I parted my legs, knowing where he was going next. Hoping.

I heard myself moan softly when he touched me. He parted my lips with his fingers and found my clit instantly. My gasp and little squeal, and the way I pressed against his hand when he touched it might have been a clue for him that he was in the right place.  A clue was completely unnecessary, though, because he never had trouble funding the right spot. Never.  I relaxed and let him work his magic, surrendering to him and the moment. He brought me right along the trail he was blazing, at exactly the speed he wanted, using more than just his fingers.  His mouth and tongue kept me entranced while arm was around me and his hand pulled the hair on the back of my head, keeping my lips in position to receive his kisses. He wrapped his legs around my leg closest to him and pulled it toward him, pinning me down. Sometimes he'd stop kissing me for a moment so he could watch my face as got closer and closer to coming.

I knew the moment was coming when it would feel less like he was doing something to me and more like he was reaching inside me to pull my orgasm from me, whether I was ready to give it up or not, because it was his and he'd come for what was his.

That moment flew by me quickly and I came hard, almost without the normal build up.  One sharp bolt that made me scream into his mouth, followed by ripples of pleasure that forced out a series of little whimpers.

True to form, he didn't let me enjoy the final passing of the electricity.  Instead, he kept going, stroking my clit through that almost painful period when everything is so intense...and on to another crescendo of delight.  I reached down and found his cock, which was rock hard and stretched to its fullest, and I started stroking him. This time, there was a build up. Slow and steady. I squeezed his cock harder as I got closer to coming and gripped it tightly when I released. He kissed me gently, letting me come down this time, pulling his finger off my clit, sliding a couple of fingers inside me.

At one point, we stopped kissing and I gazed into his eyes.  I was still shaking, he was holding me tightly, and I couldn't speak.  I was feeling things I wanted to say, but I couldn't say them.

After a few moments, he rolled over on top of me, nudged my knees apart, and pressed his cock against my pussy. He slid it up and down against me for several strokes.  I moaned, "That feels pretty good just like that." Just as I said that, he entered me deeply and I gasped.

To be continued......

I Need A Hug

Matthew, Chapter 1

Just a day after TommyKat noticed the word c-o-c-k in something I was writing, we had another interesting experience. He and I were reading Matthew, Chapter 1, from the New Testament of the Bible.  For those of you who haven't read your Bibles in a while (or ever), the highlights of Matthew, Chapter 1, are the ancestry of Jesus and Joseph finding out that Mary is pregnant - and he knows he didn't do it, so he plans to dump her quietly.  He gets a visit in a dream from an angel who tells him that the Holy Spirit was responsible for the pregnancy and that he should go ahead and marry Mary. We also learn that they marry, but don't consummate the marriage until after Jesus is born.

That's all simple and straightforward, right? We had a little discussion about what we read and then TommyKat, age 10, started asking questions. He kept asking questions for a very long time. Because I'm a believer that if a child is old enough to ask a question, he's old enough for an honest answer, I answered each question as directly and honestly as possible.

Here's just a sample of the questions TommyKat fired at me over the next couple of hours (in no particular order):

• What does "consummate the marriage" mean?
• If Mary got pregnant without having sex, was that like artificial insemination?
• Is it a normal thing for the Holy Spirit to make women pregnant?
• What's an erection?
• What's masturbation?
• How does masturbation work?
• Why to people masturbate?
• How do women masturbate?
• What does it mean when a girl gets her period?
• Why can't men get pregnant?
• What is the cause of "morning wood?"
• How does a condom keep a woman from getting pregnant?
• Do women get pregnant every time they have sex without a condom?
• Is masturbation a sin?
• What does the Bible say about masturbation?
• Why are some kids called "unwanted children?"
• When a guy goes to donate sperm, how do they get it out of him?
• What makes a man "aroused?"
• Do men and women like sex the same amount?
• What's an orgasm?
• Do women get orgasms, too?
• How is a woman's orgasm different than a man's?
• So women can have sex without having an orgasm?  Why?
• How does a condom work?  Can I see one?
• When is a woman too old to have any more babies?
• Are you too old to have more babies?
• If a woman gets too old to have kids, does she stop having sex?
• Do you and Dad still have sex even though you guys are really, really old?
• How do lesbian women get pregnant?
• Is it true that there are tampon machines in women's restrooms?

Oh. my. gosh. All I wanted was a quick little Bible reading and discussion at the start of our day, just like we've had on many other days, and instead  I was quizzed about sex for over two hours by a prepubescent boy. And I still hadn't had my coffee yet.

Where was Hubby during all of this?  He wasn't home, of course.  He was safe at the office, far away from  ground zero.  I did leave a few questions for him ("I think you and your dad should talk about that."), mostly questions about wet dreams, if a guy can control when he gets an erection, and how you put on a condom.

Because Hubby was planning on making a stop at the grocery store to buy milk on the way home, I sent him a text. "Please pick up some condoms at the store.  TommyKat wants you to show him how they work."

This was his reply:

This morning, I heard the two of them chatting in the living room.  Hubby was answering questions and then I could tell there was a condom demonstration going on. I made sure to keep myself busy in another room until they were finished.

When I was sure it was safe, I wandered into the living room in time to kiss Hubby goodbye as he headed out for the day. I leaned forward and grabbed the banana that was on the coffee table and asked, "Is this your banana?"

TommyKat answered, "No, but that's the one Dad was using to show me how to put on a condom."

"Oh," I said casually as I peeled it. "That's nice."

"Are you going to eat that?!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, that was my plan," I answered.

"But we were pretending it was a penis, and a condom was on it, and you're going to put it in your mouth?!? Ewwww!"

I just smiled and took a bite.

The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 3 of 3)

If you haven't yet read the first two parts of this encounter, here they are:
The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 1 of 3)
The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 2 of 3)

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One of the frustrating things about only having a couple of hours together is that you want to do much more than you can do in that amount of time. Ultimately, you just have to let go of plans and expectations and go with the flow. That's what I decided to do at this point.

I had checked the time and it was time to go.  In fact, it was about 5 minutes before my "must go now" time. But we were both having such a nice time and I was in the mood and he was hard again, so......

I scooted down and started licking his cock.  I was thinking. He came just a little while ago.  Could he come again so soon? How long would that take? I started to wonder if he'd want to go for it again, but then I realized I was taking a rock hard cock into my mouth.  That's usually a sign that he wants to go for it.  I think that's the universal male sign for, "Go for it!" So I did.

I got comfortable, prepared to spend some time.  Rushing wouldn't work.  The only way this would happen is if I focused on the journey, rather than the destination. I took him into my mouth and suckled him slowly, playfully.  Then after a moment or two, I sucked the head into my throat and swallowed, massaging him with my soft palate and flicking my tongue on the base. Every time he moaned, I stopped what I was doing and changed it up, trying different things, exploring, playing.

About ten minutes into it, I felt a twinge in my pussy, then another. I sucked him harder, almost as an automatic response to what I was feeling. Now I wasn't playing anymore. Whenever my pussy twitched I'd press into whatever I was doing with renewed focus and passion. If I had taken him in deep, I'd dive down further.  If I was on an upstroke, I'd just suckle the head for a bit.

I knew he was done with my eclectic approach when I felt him grab my head and hold it down while he thrusted upward from below. I pressed my legs together and started grinding, wanting to cum, but trying to stay focused on him. I wasn't very successful until I heard him groan loudly and push my head down, holding me firmly while he came. 

I held my breath, then came up swallowing. After, I kissed his cock gently, as I always do.  I was about to  crawl back up to kiss him when I thought.  Wait.  What's good for the goose is good for gander.  He never stops when I come.  He always keeps going.  I wonder what would happen if......  Besides, horny is an understatement for what I was feeling at the moment.

I didn't care what time it was.

I looked up at him and took his cock into my mouth again. He smiled and chuckled a little. He didn't get completely soft after he came, and it didn't take long at all before he was as hard as he was before.  Every now and then he'd say something, but to be honest, I don't know what he said. His voice had a magical effect on me, though.  My pussy wasn't just twitching anymore; it was on fire.

I was conflicted again. I really needed a good hard fucking, but I was committed to seeing if I could get a 3rd orgasm out of him, and I was finding it pretty pleasurable.  I could wait.  For a little while, anyway.

I refocused on his cock and started with the exactly what I had been doing when he came a moment ago.  He moaned loudly. I relaxed and kept going, sliding my hands up his hips and around his lower back, then down to his backside, pulling him up a little on each downstroke so I could get him even deeper. 

My mind wandered at times.  Why does this guy turn me on like he does?  Why does my body respond to him so easily? Why do I like being with him so much?  Why does his voice make me feel both calm and excited at the same time? 

Every now and then he'd do something that would pull my attention back to him completely - a moan, a word or two, his grip on my hair pulling my head up forcing me to pull against him to get back to his cock. And whenever my attention came back, not only did I go after his cock more hungrily, but I realized how close I was to coming. 

It seemed like a long time later, but eventually he groaned loudly again and held my head down.  I felt his cock pulsate in my mouth, but very little ejaculate came out. When he released me a moment later, he said, "Damn, you drained me."  That made me smile, So, that's really possible, I thought. 

My pussy was quivering wildly. Not. Quite. There.  Ugh!

I lapped up a few drops of cum and crawled back up to kiss him. I wanted to suggest that we do something more to take the edge off my slutty and needy pussy, but I realized that it had to be late.  I checked the time and I was right.  I had to go. I was already late. Fuck.

As I was driving home, I still wanted him. Later that night, I still wanted him. Finally, I found some release in the shower, but it didn't relieve my desire for him at all. And we had no date for another meeting. 

I hoped it would be soon.

The Art of the Alibi

The main reason that prowlers get caught is because they get sloppy with their alibis. We tend to be very careful in the beginning and then, if we have succeeded at not being caught, we get cocky and start to cut corners and that's when the disasters happen.

A good alibi needs to be simple, believable, and verifiable.

It should be simple because the likelihood of being caught goes up exponentially with each degree of complexity. Simple means that it doesn't involve more than one other person ("Oh, I was at Dave's house with all the guys from the bowling team."  "Really? I talked with Marcia tonight and Steve and Joe were at her house." Oops.), it's easy to remember ("What was the name of that new restaurant you said you went to with Joe the other night? What do you mean you don't remember?  Do you still have the receipt?"), and it doesn't involve multiple steps ("I was at the book store, then I went to the gun store, then took the car for an oil change, and...and...and....").  The more complicated it gets, the more chances you have to screw it up.

Of course, everyone knows it needs to be believable.  In fact, that's what we spend most of our time on. It needs to be something that you either normally do already or that your spouse would think is reasonable for you. If you never go anywhere, it's time for you to get a life.  Not only will this help you become a much more interesting person, but it will help establish an alibi should you need one in the future. If you regularly volunteer at your local homeless shelter (or animal shelter or whatever), it will be pretty easy to peel away a few hours from that activity to use for some playtime. For godsake, don't use going to the library as an alibi if you don't have a library card, and if you hate museums, don't use going to an art museum as an alibi.  Use some common sense, will ya?

It also needs to be verifiable. This is the one that catches many of us and, yes, this is the one that caught me. I had planned for my time one day a couple of years ago so I could spend a nice 6-8 hours with JJ. I picked a business trip as an alibi, a client that I had been seeing fairly regularly recently and that was located 3 hours away.  The round trip would be 6 hours of driving, plus two hours of meeting time while I was there.  There it is.  8 hours. What I didn't plan on was that Hubby would be tracking my mileage.  If I had actually gone where I said I was going, I would have logged about 350-380 miles on the car. Instead, I logged 60 miles. I had some 'splainin' to do.

You should have seen his face.  He had that, "Gotcha!" look and he was acting victorious until he realized what every newly awakened cuckolded spouse eventually asks.  What now? Yeah, he caught me, but what was he going to do then? Anyway, that's another story. (For those who don't know, I didn't try to wiggle out of it.  I fessed up.)

The point of this part of the story is that I truly came to appreciate how important it is that an alibi be verifiable. Now when I establish an alibi, I know how many miles I'd log round trip if I actually went there and I make sure that my rendezvous location will be within a few miles of that distance.

If you suspect that your spouse may be tracking your whereabouts via GPS (or if you just want to be extra careful), pick a meeting location that is near your alibi spot, and park at the alibi spot. If you're being tracked through your phone, consider leaving your phone in the car, where you're supposed to be, if you can. If you can't, get a room that is closest to your alibi location.

Also, for an alibi to be truly verifiable, if you say you're going to be with a friend, that friend should know that he/she is an alibi and should be willing to vouch for you. That doesn't necessarily mean that the friend has to know your prowling.  For example, I have a good friend who knows I spend most of my time locked in the tower (my home), under Hubby's careful watch. She knows I rarely get out these days and that makes me crazy.  So, from time to time, I can call her and say, "Hi Suzy.  I've got cabin fever and I'm dying to do some shopping.  Can I tell Hubby I'm having lunch with you?"  She says yes, happy to be helping a friend, and we agree on where we went shopping and that we didn't buy anything.  You may ask why I just didn't ask Hubby if I could go shopping (or tell him I was going shopping, depending on how liberated you are), but that won't work for me because Hubby needs to be able to verify my story, which he can do if I'm with a friend. If I'm going out alone, Hubby hears that as "fucking around" and more deadbolts are added to the tower doors.

There were a couple of times a while back when I said I was going to Cara's house for lunch or a BBQ. To help verify that, Cara texted me a few photos of the BBQ, herself, the food, and I saved them to my phone and texted them to Hubby. Then Cara texted him a picture of herself at the BBQ with a little message, "Wish you could have joined us!" Hubby was happy.  Heck, what man wouldn't be happy to get a text and a photo from Cara? :-)

If you use a friend as an alibi, and that friend doesn't know it, you're rolling the dice.  What if your spouse runs into him/her at the gym or the grocery store or the park or wherever when he/she is supposed to be with you?  What if your spouse asks him/her about your outing a week or two from now and that person just looks back at him confused?

Finally, don't sabotage your own alibi. If you said you were going to share a meal with a friend, don't come home ravenously hungry. Dress appropriately for wherever you are supposed to be. If it's a work appointment, don't wear your jeans (unless that's what you wear for work appointments). You also need to talk about your alibi without looking or sounding nervous. Talking about it needs to come easy to you.  If it doesn't, re-think it.

If you feel like this alibi business feels slimy and scummy, that's because it is. Lying to Hubby is the worst part about prowling, by far.  I've even cancelled a couple of play dates because I just couldn't lie to him on those days. There was no particular reason except I just couldn't do it. As most of you know, my preference would be to be completely honest and upfront about the whole thing. Unfortunately, that's not what Hubby wants.

Do you have a favorite alibi?  Is it simple, believable, and verifiable? Have you ever been caught because you used a bad alibi?

Use Your Teeth

Top 10 posts for the Week of Aug. 10-16, 2014

Hi Everyone!  I hope you're having a great weekend. In case you missed anything, here are the 10 posts read the most this past week, in order from the most page views to the least.

The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 1 of 3)

Beefing Up the Blog Roll

The Surprises in Room 139 (Part 2 of 3)

The Unexpected Downside of Infidelity

Make Your Life Spectacular

10 Tips for Being a Good Fuck Buddy

Checking In

International Day of the Female Orgasm

10 Surefire Ways to Ruin Your Affair

The Great Dane and the Pomeranian


And just so you know, I updated some pages this week, too.  Sex, Sex, Only Sex now has more posts so it's current (I think), and Advice for Prowlers and Kat's Musings have also been updated.

Enjoy!

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.

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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.....

Beefing Up the Blog Roll

Hey, Everybody.  I need to add some good sex and infidelity blogs to my blog roll.  Will you make some recommendations for me?  I *love* the ones I have, but as I have taken off blogs that have gone dark, my list has dwindled, and I just don't have the time to go exploring on my own. I'm quite busy with, well, other things. ;-)

I don't have many guidelines or preferences.  While I enjoy some bondage myself, I'm not particularly into the daily journals of full time submissives or sex slaves. I prefer following people who have real lives, like the rest of us.

And obviously, if a blog is staunchly anti-infidelity, it will never show up here, so please don't even bother to share it with me.

If you're not on my blog roll and you want to recommend your own blog, please do!

Help!  I need more smut!

The Unexpected Downside of Infidelity

I was chatting with a dear friend this morning and he reminded me about one of the downsides of infidelity that we rarely talk about and that most never see coming.  It's not getting caught, although that can be, and usually is, pretty bad. It's something that is brought on by the experience itself.

Most of us who cheat are looking for something that is missing from our relationship at home.  It's usually intimacy and/or sex, but it could include many other things, too. If you're lucky, you'll meet the right person and find what you're looking for. At that point, all you see is the upside.

If everything clicks, you experience intimacy like you never have before, maybe not even with your spouse in those flush early days. The sex is great.  You feel alive. You wonder why you waited so long. You find that feeling so connected to another human being on so many levels is amazing beyond description. In a nutshell, for the first time in a long time, you feel complete. All of your needs are being met and you're happy.

What could be bad about that?

Well, nothing.  As long as it lasts.  The problem is that, unlike marriage, affairs are not intended to go on forever.  That's generally speaking, of course.  Some can go on for years or decades, but those are the exceptions.  Most affairs end. In the best of situations, they end well. The affair has run its course and you both agree that it's time to move on or that it's time to attempt fidelity again.  Maybe you end on good terms because you just drifted apart. The time between meetings just got longer and longer until *POOF*you just weren't seeing each other anymore. That's pretty much what happened between me and JJ.  There was no decision to end it, no falling out.  It just fizzled out due to lack of attention.  That doesn't mean we don't care about each other, just that the affair is not active (I'm hesitant to say "done" because I don't know what the future holds, even though it looks like it's done).

But maybe your affair ends on bad terms.  Your wife finds out or your partner's husband finds out, and things turn very, very ugly. Maybe you can salvage your marriage, but that was only possible because you agreed to end the affair. Maybe your partner just decided she wanted to end it or she found someone else. Regardless of how you feel about it, it's over.

The ending, though, isn't even the bad part I'm talking about. It's worse when the affair is over, and you know it's over forever, and you're still with your spouse, and you're faced with the heart wrenching knowledge that you have experienced indescribable intimacy with another human being, and now it's gone.  And you may not have that ever again.

I'm a believer in Alfred Lord Tennyson's assertion that " 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved," because I honestly believe that connecting with our fellow human beings is part of why we're here. Loving others, in all the possible forms that love takes, is how we live to the fullest.

As long as I'm quoting literature, let me add another. "A ship in the harbor is safe, but that's not what ships are for." This is attributed to William G.T. Shedd as well as to several other people (that's what the internet does to authors who don't copyright their work; eventually, everyone claims it). Some people, most notably those who obviously can't read, claim that Theodore Roosevelt said it first in his 1901 State of the Union speech, saying that "ships are not built for a harbor."  Of course, he was actually talking about real ships and the need to get them out of the harbor so peacetime crew can get adequate training, not ships leaving a harbor as a metaphor for courage and risk taking. The funny thing is that he never really said it.  What he said was, "Our ships must be assembled in squadrons actively cruising away from harbors and never long at anchor." Even poor Teddy Roosevelt can't escape bad reporting.

Wow.  My inner nerd just jumped out at you.  Sorry about that. However,  if you're ever in a nerdy mood, read Roosevelt's speech in its entirety. He talks about the importance of building the Panama Canal and the cavalry, basing U.S. foreign policy on the Monroe Doctrine, and changing the way recruits are addressed at Annapolis. Good stuff...and kind of amusing given today's context.

But I digress....again.

The point was that I agree that knowing there will be pain in the future is no reason to avoid living and loving fully today. Still, it's painful to have what you were craving and then have to face a life without it again.

Before you experience it, you know you're not happy, not content.  You know something is missing, but it's only when you have it in your life for a period of time that you fully understand the depth of the hole in your life without it. Yes, you can go to counseling with your spouse and if you're both willing, things can definitely get better, and that's awesome! But it is unlikely that your spouse will ever be able to fill that void for you completely.

I know that some of you may be thinking, "Hey! It's not your spouse's job to fill that void!  You need to fill it yourself by growing spiritually and learning to appreciate what you have."  Ok, there's some truth to that. One of the secrets of a happy long-term marriage is appreciation.  Another is for each spouse to be on his/her own path of growth and self-actualization (did you ever think you'd see that word again after the 70's?). I have to tell you, though, that my first thought when I hear someone say something like that is that they have probably never experienced the intimacy I'm talking about.  If they had, they'd know that one person can't recreate that alone just by concentrating on being grateful. It's like magic. It's illusive and addictive......and sorely missed when it's gone.

This morning I told my friend that he should never say never because it's possible that he may find that lost intimacy with his wife. We don't know what the future holds. If they are both working on it, it's possible.

But we both knew the truth.  It's unlikely. So how do you live with that?  How do you happily stay on the farm when you've seen Paris, so to speak? I don't know.  I know it's difficult, and I know that life is full of trade offs.  Maybe we have to let go of the magic to keep the family we love whole. Maybe we have to go back to settling for something that doesn't fully fulfill us in exchange for a chance at another kind of happiness. Maybe we just have to hope that as we age it won't really matter as much to us.

Warning someone about this downside of infidelity before they cheat won't do any good because it will just make them want to find that magic and have the experience themselves.  And then they'll know. Unfortunately, at that point, there's going back.

Is it really "better to have loved and lost than never to have loved?"

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......