I woke up to stolen anal sex this morning. Hubby cuddled up behind me while I was sleeping on my side. I was fast asleep and didn't even notice he was there until he was pressing his hard cock into my ass. Ouch!
Now, he knows I don't mind anal and I'm glad to oblige when he wants that, but doing it without any lube, even my own pussy juices, is not my favorite. And waking up to it in the morning without any lube is just, well, let's just say it's not my favorite way to wake up.
But, being the good wifey that I am, I took some deep breaths and then started moving with him so he could have a nice experience.
When he was done, he tucked a hand towel between my cheeks and said, "Mornin', Kat" with a triumphant laugh, as if he'd scaled Mount Everest or accomplished the world's hardest task. What made me laugh at that was that fucking Kat in the ass is no great accomplishment. Lots of men have done it. ;-)
I got up, showered, got dressed, and started my day. He did the same and headed out to a doctor appointment. I ran into him a little later in the morning and I learned that it was one of THOSE doctor appointments, the kind where the doctor slides his gloved, lubricated finger into a man's anus.
Kat: How'd you like that ?
Hubby: Geez, how could anyone like that?! He didn't give me warning so I wasn't expecting it and then I'm sure he went in further and took longer than was necessary. Glad that's over for a long time.
Kat: And just imagine....his finger is much thinner and shorter than your hard cock, and he used lube, too.
Hubby looked confused. I think he even cocked his head a little bit trying to figure it out. Then his eyes lit up with recognition.
Kat: Payback can be a bitch, can't it? And I didn't even have to plan that.
Hubby: Yeah, but what we did was completely different........
I didn't stick around to hear the rest. I just gave him a kiss and said I'd see him at home later.
Over my shoulder, I shouted, "Now you owe me....."
My version of payback will be much more fun.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Thursday, June 19, 2014
I'd Definitely Want to Swallow
Someone special found this and sent it to me yesterday. Gentlemen, would you wear this shirt?
It looks like an invitation to me. ;-)
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Knock at the Door
It all started with a knock at the door.
My son looked out the front window and shouted to me that it was a friend of Daddy's. I opened the door expecting it to be one of Hubby's buddies. Instead, I was looking at Hubby's favorite playmate from a few years ago. Twenty-something. Blonde. Not gorgeous, but not unattractive. I just stared at her.
She looked like a deer in the headlights. She stuttered and finally managed to ask if Hubby was home.
That's when I realized what was going on. Hubby had taken my car to the shop to have some work done. So, it was the middle of the day on a weekday and only his car was in the driveway.
She wasn't expecting me to be home. She thought she'd find Hubby there alone. Un-fucking-believable.
I told her that he wasn't home. She asked if she could have his phone number because she lost it. Seriously. She asked ME for my husband's phone number. I told her I couldn't do that, but if she gave me her number I could call him and pass on her message. I grabbed some paper and wrote down the number.
Let's back up for a moment. You may remember that Hubby came clean about his extracurricular activities a couple of years ago when one of his skanks tried to blackmail him. She wanted cash in exchange for not telling me about their affair. He decided to tell me rather than pay her, which was the right thing to do, of course. As we talked about it, I learned that he had been seeing several women for a long time. The one standing in front of me was his favorite and the only one that he used to bring into our home for sex.
Not only did he bring her to our home, but he fucked her in our bed - many times. That was a big deal for me. I was (and am) ok with him playing with other women, but not in our home and not in our bed. It's a simple matter of respect for me. He agreed he would never do it again, yet her she was standing on my porch at a time when he should have been home alone.
After she gave me her number, she didn't know what to do. She apologized for bothering me. I told her it was no bother at all. Then, after another awkward moment or two, she turned and walked away.
I was too angry to call Hubby, so I texted him. "M just showed up at the door and asked for you. She asked for your number but I refused and I got her number instead. xxx-xxx-xxxx. She would like you to call her. When you speak with her, please tell her I never want to see her at my home again.When we talk later, you may want to be prepared to answer some questions. What the fuck was she doing here?!? Why did our son know her?? He called her 'Daddy's friend'.Are you still seeing her? Remember our deal? If you screw around then I can do it openly, too. You should think about these things before you come home."
Within 15 seconds of hitting Send, my phone rang. It was Hubby.
"I have no idea why she came to the house," he said. "I haven't seen her for a couple of years and I told her never to come to the house." He sounded a bit frantic.
"I suggest you make that clear to her again."
"Do you believe me?" he asked quietly.
I thought about it for a moment. Then I answered, "No, I don't believe you, but that really doesn't matter. I don't want her anywhere near our home and I don't want her anywhere near our son. You need to make sure she complies."
He agreed and said he would call her and straighten things out.
About ten minutes later, the phone rang again. It was him, but I didn't answer. Whatever he had to say, it could wait until he got home in a couple of hours.
I spent some time thinking about what had happened, trying to figure out what I was feeling. I was definitely angry, not because of the likelihood that he was still seeing her, but because she came to the house. Because I opened the door and there she was. Because Hubby had obviously had her over when my son was home. Because I just didn't want to deal with her. I shouldn't have to deal with her. If I could keep my playmates completely away from him, why couldn't he manage to do the same for me?
Yeah, I was angry.
When Hubby got home, he told me that he called her and she started apologizing as soon as she answered the phone. He said she promised she would never come by the house again, under any circumstances. He said she came by because she thought he'd be there alone and she was interested in starting things up again.
That was already obvious to me, but I was glad he was honest enough to say it.
We talked a bit more about my anger that our son knew her. He apologized and said he knew that was wrong and he shouldn't have had her over when our son was home.
And he swore repeatedly that he hadn't been with her for a couple of years. I finally stopped him because I was tired of talking about it. I didn't believe him anyway and no amount of talking would change that. Besides, as I said before, it really didn't matter. I didn't (and don't) object to him having sex with twenty-something playmates. I'm not that young anymore and I certainly can't offer a 25 year old pussy. If he wants to get that, he can. But he needs to follow the rules and be discreet.
The last thing I said to him that night when we got in bed was that I don't ever want another visit like that. He agreed. Then he asked if I wanted to fool around. Seriously. After all of that, he asked for sex.
I was stunned, silenced in disbelief. Then I thought about it and answered.
"Sure, why not?"
My son looked out the front window and shouted to me that it was a friend of Daddy's. I opened the door expecting it to be one of Hubby's buddies. Instead, I was looking at Hubby's favorite playmate from a few years ago. Twenty-something. Blonde. Not gorgeous, but not unattractive. I just stared at her.
She looked like a deer in the headlights. She stuttered and finally managed to ask if Hubby was home.
That's when I realized what was going on. Hubby had taken my car to the shop to have some work done. So, it was the middle of the day on a weekday and only his car was in the driveway.
She wasn't expecting me to be home. She thought she'd find Hubby there alone. Un-fucking-believable.
I told her that he wasn't home. She asked if she could have his phone number because she lost it. Seriously. She asked ME for my husband's phone number. I told her I couldn't do that, but if she gave me her number I could call him and pass on her message. I grabbed some paper and wrote down the number.
Let's back up for a moment. You may remember that Hubby came clean about his extracurricular activities a couple of years ago when one of his skanks tried to blackmail him. She wanted cash in exchange for not telling me about their affair. He decided to tell me rather than pay her, which was the right thing to do, of course. As we talked about it, I learned that he had been seeing several women for a long time. The one standing in front of me was his favorite and the only one that he used to bring into our home for sex.
Not only did he bring her to our home, but he fucked her in our bed - many times. That was a big deal for me. I was (and am) ok with him playing with other women, but not in our home and not in our bed. It's a simple matter of respect for me. He agreed he would never do it again, yet her she was standing on my porch at a time when he should have been home alone.
After she gave me her number, she didn't know what to do. She apologized for bothering me. I told her it was no bother at all. Then, after another awkward moment or two, she turned and walked away.
I was too angry to call Hubby, so I texted him. "M just showed up at the door and asked for you. She asked for your number but I refused and I got her number instead. xxx-xxx-xxxx. She would like you to call her. When you speak with her, please tell her I never want to see her at my home again.When we talk later, you may want to be prepared to answer some questions. What the fuck was she doing here?!? Why did our son know her?? He called her 'Daddy's friend'.Are you still seeing her? Remember our deal? If you screw around then I can do it openly, too. You should think about these things before you come home."
Within 15 seconds of hitting Send, my phone rang. It was Hubby.
"I have no idea why she came to the house," he said. "I haven't seen her for a couple of years and I told her never to come to the house." He sounded a bit frantic.
"I suggest you make that clear to her again."
"Do you believe me?" he asked quietly.
I thought about it for a moment. Then I answered, "No, I don't believe you, but that really doesn't matter. I don't want her anywhere near our home and I don't want her anywhere near our son. You need to make sure she complies."
He agreed and said he would call her and straighten things out.
About ten minutes later, the phone rang again. It was him, but I didn't answer. Whatever he had to say, it could wait until he got home in a couple of hours.
I spent some time thinking about what had happened, trying to figure out what I was feeling. I was definitely angry, not because of the likelihood that he was still seeing her, but because she came to the house. Because I opened the door and there she was. Because Hubby had obviously had her over when my son was home. Because I just didn't want to deal with her. I shouldn't have to deal with her. If I could keep my playmates completely away from him, why couldn't he manage to do the same for me?
Yeah, I was angry.
When Hubby got home, he told me that he called her and she started apologizing as soon as she answered the phone. He said she promised she would never come by the house again, under any circumstances. He said she came by because she thought he'd be there alone and she was interested in starting things up again.
That was already obvious to me, but I was glad he was honest enough to say it.
We talked a bit more about my anger that our son knew her. He apologized and said he knew that was wrong and he shouldn't have had her over when our son was home.
And he swore repeatedly that he hadn't been with her for a couple of years. I finally stopped him because I was tired of talking about it. I didn't believe him anyway and no amount of talking would change that. Besides, as I said before, it really didn't matter. I didn't (and don't) object to him having sex with twenty-something playmates. I'm not that young anymore and I certainly can't offer a 25 year old pussy. If he wants to get that, he can. But he needs to follow the rules and be discreet.
The last thing I said to him that night when we got in bed was that I don't ever want another visit like that. He agreed. Then he asked if I wanted to fool around. Seriously. After all of that, he asked for sex.
I was stunned, silenced in disbelief. Then I thought about it and answered.
"Sure, why not?"
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, June 6, 2014
My Lover or My God?
I think of him with longing every day.
The thoughts of him flow gently in and out of my consciousness
Like a thick but fading fog giving way to the gentle breezes of morning.
I'm cold.
Is the cold because of his absence or my nakedness?
I know I can't resist my desire for his presence.
The more I try, the more I need. The more I need, the more I fear.
I'm afraid.
I fear that my need won't be satisfied and that it will.
In the confusion of my own feelings I turn one way, then the other
Unable to commit to staying or going, diving in with my whole heart or walking away.
I'm ashamed.
I feel shame for wanting him like I do.
Echoes of childhood prayers and devotions reverberate through my soul,
Clouding my thoughts and intensifying my loneliness.
I'm alone.
In the calm of my solitude, I find clarity.
He fills me and fulfills me as no one else ever could.
I fall to my knees, look up, and open myself to him.
I'm free.
But who is the subject of my longing?
My lover or my God?
The thoughts of him flow gently in and out of my consciousness
Like a thick but fading fog giving way to the gentle breezes of morning.
I'm cold.
Is the cold because of his absence or my nakedness?
I know I can't resist my desire for his presence.
The more I try, the more I need. The more I need, the more I fear.
I'm afraid.
I fear that my need won't be satisfied and that it will.
In the confusion of my own feelings I turn one way, then the other
Unable to commit to staying or going, diving in with my whole heart or walking away.
I'm ashamed.
I feel shame for wanting him like I do.
Echoes of childhood prayers and devotions reverberate through my soul,
Clouding my thoughts and intensifying my loneliness.
I'm alone.
In the calm of my solitude, I find clarity.
He fills me and fulfills me as no one else ever could.
I fall to my knees, look up, and open myself to him.
I'm free.
But who is the subject of my longing?
My lover or my God?
********************************************************
I started this as a response to this week's FFF, but the picture really didn't do anything for me or help me go where I wanted to go with the sentiment of the poem. So, I just went my own way.
Many of us struggle with the nagging choice between prowling and fidelity, between the morality we grew up with and the fulfillment we need now. Often we come to understand that it's not a choice between one or the other, but a mosaic of choices, mistakes, passion, loss, and love that makes up our life.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Only One Thing
There's only one thing (outside my family, of course) that gives me more pleasure than JJ fucking me hard from behind or T going down on me. Only one thing.
And here it is......
It's my San Francisco Giants having the best record in baseball. Not just in the NL West. Not just in the National League. It's the best in all of Major League Baseball.
For those of you who want to say, "But the season's not even half way over yet," just sit down and shush.
I know many of you may have something to say about this. Feel free to shout out for your favorite team in the comments.
Go Giants!!!!
( For those of you from other parts of the world who don't know much about baseball, that's ok. Just repeat after me. The Giants are the best!!!!!)
And here it is......
For those of you who want to say, "But the season's not even half way over yet," just sit down and shush.
I know many of you may have something to say about this. Feel free to shout out for your favorite team in the comments.
Go Giants!!!!
( For those of you from other parts of the world who don't know much about baseball, that's ok. Just repeat after me. The Giants are the best!!!!!)
My Little Slice of Heaven .....and Other Randomness
My "little slice of heaven." That's what I call my woohoo, and none of you guessed it! You came up with some fun guesses, though. My favorite was "Batter's Box," submitted by my buddy, Max. I wish I could reward Max with some time of his own in my Batter's Box, but he lives a few thousand miles away. Such a shame. ;-)
I've been spending more time with Spartacus lately than I usually do. For those of you don't know, Spartacus is my favorite vibrator. He's quite loyal and always there for me, and he never disappoints. It's never the same way twice with him, which is a concept that seems to elude Hubby.
So here I've been over the last month, hornier than I have been for a long time, and....well, nothing. Almost nothing. Hubby is....well.....he's who he is. JJ is busy. T is also unavailable, although we did have some very nice phone sex recently. That was lovely. C is monitored more closely by his wife than are most inmates in a maximum security prison. D is on vacation. And SNS Guy remains two thousand miles away. What's a hungry Kat to do? I've attacked poor Hubby a couple of times out of pure frustration, but the lack of passion there really doesn't do much to quench my thirst, if you know what I mean.
So I just give Spartacus a new set of batteries and make do. Hubby gave me some rechargeable batteries and a new charging station recently. That helps. Always thinking about saving money, dear Hubby.
I put lube on the family shopping list last week and Hubby asked what is was for. I answered, "If you don't know, then it has been waaaaaaaay too long......"
He continued to stare at me, so I said, "Spartacus is thirsty."
His eyes widened a bit with recognition and he replied with, "Oh. Ok. Is there any particular variety that Spartacus wants?"
"Spartacus likes what you like," I answered with a devilish smile.
"Oh." And that was the end of the conversation. {{{sigh}}}
On another topic......I'm in the process of writing a smutty romance novel. I've shared several chapters with a few friends, including SNS Guy and Married Guy, but I'm stuck now, not because of writer's block, but because I'm so busy with work and family that finding time is very difficult. I know you understand because the same issue has kept me from writing here as often as I would like.
As I make progress on the novel, however slow that progress may be, I've learned that I'm much better at writing smut than I am at writing romance. I can write a hot sex scene, but guiding characters through sharing their deepest feelings is much more difficult. probably because sex is much easier for me than sharing feelings.
When I told my therapist about the book, she said, "Feelings? Romantic feelings? You're really going to write about that?" And then she smiled that hideously condescending smile that she takes on sometimes. She invited me to share some feelings I've had recently.
(crickets)
If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me how I feel about something, I'd be rich. The last time I was with T (who she knows as Xavier, just because we all live in the same town and I wanted to be sure that his identity was safe), she asked what feelings I had for him. There was a long silence. Not an uncomfortable one, just a long one.
"I like him very much. I'm not in love with him. I enjoy his company. I get annoyed when he pulls away from me like I'm a threat to his freedom, but I can live with that."
It's at that point that she usually points out to me which of the things I've just said were really thoughts or attitudes, but not feelings. Now she just has to repeat the word, "Feelings."
"Ok, ok, I said. Affection. Occasional rejection and annoyance. Comfortable. Caring? That's all I got. Except for the fact that he turns me on sexually like you wouldn't believe. I hear his voice and I'm wet and ready. Where's that on the feelings chart?"
It reminded me of the first time Hubby and I went to marriage counseling. He said something and the counselor looked at me and said, "So, Kat, how does that make you feel?" And Hubby started laughing. The counselor was shocked and started to tell Hubby how inappropriate it was to laugh at me, but Hubby explained, "She can't tell you how she feels. At least not on the spot. She'll have to answer you next week." He was right. I'm much better at identifying feelings now than I used to be, but it can still be a challenge for me.
Anyway, my instinct is to have my two main characters fucking all the time - at least as often as I want to, which is a lot. Fucking on the bus, on the bed, on the kitchen table, in the elevator, in the car, in the shower. But in a smutty romance novel, there must be some romance, so I need to build them up to fucking with some romance and feelings. Ugh.
In the prowling world, the romance and feelings often, although not always, follow the initial sexual encounters. That, I understand.That, I can describe quite well.
Maybe that's the novel I should be writing.
I've been spending more time with Spartacus lately than I usually do. For those of you don't know, Spartacus is my favorite vibrator. He's quite loyal and always there for me, and he never disappoints. It's never the same way twice with him, which is a concept that seems to elude Hubby.
So here I've been over the last month, hornier than I have been for a long time, and....well, nothing. Almost nothing. Hubby is....well.....he's who he is. JJ is busy. T is also unavailable, although we did have some very nice phone sex recently. That was lovely. C is monitored more closely by his wife than are most inmates in a maximum security prison. D is on vacation. And SNS Guy remains two thousand miles away. What's a hungry Kat to do? I've attacked poor Hubby a couple of times out of pure frustration, but the lack of passion there really doesn't do much to quench my thirst, if you know what I mean.
So I just give Spartacus a new set of batteries and make do. Hubby gave me some rechargeable batteries and a new charging station recently. That helps. Always thinking about saving money, dear Hubby.
I put lube on the family shopping list last week and Hubby asked what is was for. I answered, "If you don't know, then it has been waaaaaaaay too long......"
He continued to stare at me, so I said, "Spartacus is thirsty."
His eyes widened a bit with recognition and he replied with, "Oh. Ok. Is there any particular variety that Spartacus wants?"
"Spartacus likes what you like," I answered with a devilish smile.
"Oh." And that was the end of the conversation. {{{sigh}}}
On another topic......I'm in the process of writing a smutty romance novel. I've shared several chapters with a few friends, including SNS Guy and Married Guy, but I'm stuck now, not because of writer's block, but because I'm so busy with work and family that finding time is very difficult. I know you understand because the same issue has kept me from writing here as often as I would like.
As I make progress on the novel, however slow that progress may be, I've learned that I'm much better at writing smut than I am at writing romance. I can write a hot sex scene, but guiding characters through sharing their deepest feelings is much more difficult. probably because sex is much easier for me than sharing feelings.
When I told my therapist about the book, she said, "Feelings? Romantic feelings? You're really going to write about that?" And then she smiled that hideously condescending smile that she takes on sometimes. She invited me to share some feelings I've had recently.
(crickets)
If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me how I feel about something, I'd be rich. The last time I was with T (who she knows as Xavier, just because we all live in the same town and I wanted to be sure that his identity was safe), she asked what feelings I had for him. There was a long silence. Not an uncomfortable one, just a long one.
"I like him very much. I'm not in love with him. I enjoy his company. I get annoyed when he pulls away from me like I'm a threat to his freedom, but I can live with that."
It's at that point that she usually points out to me which of the things I've just said were really thoughts or attitudes, but not feelings. Now she just has to repeat the word, "Feelings."
"Ok, ok, I said. Affection. Occasional rejection and annoyance. Comfortable. Caring? That's all I got. Except for the fact that he turns me on sexually like you wouldn't believe. I hear his voice and I'm wet and ready. Where's that on the feelings chart?"
It reminded me of the first time Hubby and I went to marriage counseling. He said something and the counselor looked at me and said, "So, Kat, how does that make you feel?" And Hubby started laughing. The counselor was shocked and started to tell Hubby how inappropriate it was to laugh at me, but Hubby explained, "She can't tell you how she feels. At least not on the spot. She'll have to answer you next week." He was right. I'm much better at identifying feelings now than I used to be, but it can still be a challenge for me.
Anyway, my instinct is to have my two main characters fucking all the time - at least as often as I want to, which is a lot. Fucking on the bus, on the bed, on the kitchen table, in the elevator, in the car, in the shower. But in a smutty romance novel, there must be some romance, so I need to build them up to fucking with some romance and feelings. Ugh.
In the prowling world, the romance and feelings often, although not always, follow the initial sexual encounters. That, I understand.That, I can describe quite well.
Maybe that's the novel I should be writing.
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