When It Rains, It Pours….Part 2

Usually when I have left you all hanging in the echo of my long silence it’s simply because all the boring and mundane trappings of life had me in their snare, but this time it’s quite the opposite.  This time life has me in it’s juicy grasp, and is really having it’s way with me.  I am far, far, from complaining.

I’ve left you in the lurch so long that I am unsure how to even begin.  I feel as though I can barely do it justice now.  These sensuous experiences that have been unfolding one after the other are so intricately woven together into one fantastic symphony, that to dissect such delicious harmony would be an impossible task, not to mention a disservice.

So with that being said, I invite you to re-read “Sexual Mirrors, Sensualist Lovers“, and know that I’m still gleefully riding that ecstasy with this new lover, and it keeps surprising me, beguiling me, and at times, has me lost long in thought.

In some ways he is my twin.  We’ve called each other that on occasion. So compatible, yet there is enough difference to keep things interesting.

The one thing I keep telling myself is not to hide.  I can feel myself being protective.

As I was typing this I paused, cupped my chin gently within my hand, fingertips resting lightly just beneath my nose to smell each one where the scent of him still remains from late this afternoon.  Four and a half hours of being skin to skin, and it still was nearly impossible to find the will to disengage bodies.  My mouth always finds itself hungry for his.  One last kiss never seems to satisfy.

Upcoming posts to look forward to on thoughts I’ve been musing over…related and unrelated to Mirror Twin

  • The delicious ebb and flow of power exchange between switches (the D/s kind)
  • My second experience with lactation from intense erotic nipple stimulation
  • Why ass play is so hot for me
  • The ideal poly relationship and just what it is I want
  • Ending relationships that cross ethical boundaries, even if you’ve already crossed them

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sexual Mirrors, Sensualist Lovers

I have been holding out on you.  I know, I know, for shame on me.  I wrote this over a week ago, but somehow couldn’t bring myself to post it.  Something about my level of excitement over the experience seemed too much.  It’s like I didn’t want to jinx it by being immersed in the joy of it as deeply as I was…or am.  I’m still resisting posting this.  There is hesitation, some trepidation…like standing on the edge of a very high cliff and looking over.  Here goes nothing.

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

Where to begin.  I’m so lax in writing this week, and so much has transpired in such a short amount of time, so before this gets any further away from me, I wanted to share.

I’d like to say, and for the most part it would be true, that I usually know right away whether I want to pursue being lovers with someone.  There’s the instantaneous physical reaction that is communicated between bodies.  You see someone, exchange a glance or some casual conversation, and it’s just something innately there.  It doesn’t surprise you, or beguile you, it just simply exists.  Sometimes it’s one sided, but if you’re lucky, it’s deliciously reciprocal.

And then sometimes I meet someone, and there’s not an instant acknowledgment of desire.  It’s like my body isn’t aware of that undercurrent at all.  It doesn’t say “yes”, it doesn’t say “no”, it says “I’m not sure…I want to know more before I am sure”.  You would think in those cases that whatever desire is there would then be naturally less powerful than one that is immediately known.

This is so not the case, and although by now knowing this I shouldn’t be surprised, I am in awe.

I was ready for good lovers, middle of the road, “wow, that was fun, let’s do it again” lovers, but I was not ready for this.  I was not ready for a sexual connection with someone that was so deliriously intense that it borders on intoxicating.  It’s passion with intensity that is, to me, mildly frightening.  It both implores me towards it, and makes me want to dial it back so I can feel more in control.  And the best part, the part that I always find myself musing on when I think about it, is how completely unexpected it was.  Even writing about it I find myself wanting to edit and erase.

I have been blessed during my 30-something years here on earth to have some amazingly skillful lovers.  There is a small handful of men that I can heartily thank for helping me to discover things about my body that perhaps I would have never thought to explore on my own until they came into my life.  Yet, amidst that handful, I have had only one other lover with whom I shared this same intense ungovernable ardor, and perhaps that is why I am also finding this new connection to be unraveling threads of anxiety for me at it’s force.  It’s just so incredibly rare.

Sensualists, true sensualists, are not lovers that are easily found.  You may have never found one yourself, but there will be no denying it when you do.200551307-008

Sex with a sensualist is all about the journey, and less about the destination.  There is no route, no map, no end point in sight.  You’re out exploring a sea of sensation and desire that is endless, and only seems to unfold even more before you the more and more you explore it.  This is the rabbit hole you’ve been waiting for, Alice.

I am a very orally fixated lover.  My mouth needs to be engaged.  Kissing, licking, biting, sucking; all of these things increase my pleasure immensely, and are, the very root of my sexuality.  To find someone for whom this is also true, to be almost mirrors sexually, is just beyond compare.  And not only to mirror each other in that, but also in intensity of passionate expression of that sexuality, that is undeniably raw and unrelenting.  A love of touch, a love of skin, a love of sensation and play, and a lack of inhibitions…such an exponentially delightful gift.

kissingSo, this lover and I, spent over 10 hours fucking each other dizzy.  There were hours that passed like minutes, and minutes that shared like hours.  I have rug burn on my elbows, and I have no idea how they got there.  My living room floor, the sofa, and the massage table became our great playground.  At times this was problematic because, let me tell you, sometimes carpet can be quite slippery in the right position.  It can also be quite unforgiving on delicate skin.

10 hours takes a lot of stamina, but really when you are as orally fixated as we are, you need that long because the first 3 hours is spent just kissing.

His body, it’s this incredible instrument of flesh.  I just can’t get enough of it.  There’s not an inch of it that I can keep my mouth from wanting, or needing to be tasting.  He loves touch, and in his love of touch, is skillfully curled the innate knowledge of not only “how” to accept touch so open and willingly, but to communicate through his own fingers and hands, that same lustful art of sensation.

And he makes the most amazing sounds, or as he called them, “appreciations” of my touch, which I think may have made him feel self-conscious of at first, but I told him I was really paying him the deepest compliment.  How I love vocal lovers!  So many people stifle their exclimations of pleasure.  This has never been something I understood, as vocally expressing passion is so inherent for me.  There’s a spot on his body that I love so much, and I can’t decide what makes me love it more; the way it feels to me when I run my fingertips or tongue over it, or the way he throws his head back and moans when i do.

There is a deep pleasure even in the simplicity of the feel of his skin against mine, his body pressed tightly into me.  When there are layers of clothing between us, I want to lift them up and peel them away just to feel his skin touch mine as we kiss.  So soft and electric.

It’s rare to find someone who’s energy can match my own…who rises to meet me, and pushes back against me, and then climbs higher.  It’s solid and comforting, as much as it is so powerfully intoxicating and raw.

It’s the kind of connection I crave, and yet fear allowing myself to revel in the delight of because it might swallow me whole, but I so, so, very much want to be consumed by this.

 

 

 

 

 

Feel Yourself To Feel Better

This afternoon I was just finishing up a letter to someone that had been very triggering and difficult to write  It flooded all sorts of agitation around inside my body.  My face was tight with the uncomfortableness that arose from talking about things I would rather soon forget.  It wasn’t to anyone I even really know, or who knows me, which I suppose is what made it so easy to just flush all that buried emotion out of my system.

As I had stepped away from my computer, my cell pinged at me from across the room.

“Sitting here with my cock in hand looking at your pictures” the message from FRF read.  I smiled at the thought, but then banished my phone back to my nightstand without responding.

“That is the last place I can go right now”, I muttered to myself.

I was in another headspace from what I had just finished writing, and sexy was the least of things I was feeling.  I was so tense and agitated.  But then I thought to myself that maybe this sexy little escape was just what I needed after all.  I mean, seriously, what better way to get rid of bad tension than with an orgasm?

I went back in my mind to all the flirty text messages we had been sending to each other earlier in the day…about how I had been in class that morning and could barely concentrate because I kept daydreaming about his face buried between my thighs and his fingers deep inside my exploring…about how much I wanted to wrap my mouth around his cock…how he couldn’t wait to know what it was like for me to cum squirting all over him…and about the towels we’d need to keep from drowning.

My bad mood instantly vanished, and was instantly replaced with wetness between my legs.

“Let me send you something new”, I replied.  There had been 7 minutes that had passed since his message had first appeared.

I yanked off my jeans, discarded them in a pile on my bedroom floor, and climbed into my awaiting bedsheets.

I knew that my timing was off with his now, but who cared really because I knew the moment my fingers brushed up against my clit that I was going to come quickly.  Foreplay, even just in the form of sexy text messages, only adds to the power behind a great orgasm.

I rubbed my tingling clit in slow circles thinking about how he was stroking himself while thinking of me.  The other day I told him I felt like silk, and I did.  I was so warm and slick, so soft to the touch.  I could get lost in the feel of myself beneath my fingertips.  I watched my screen for another message and hoped our edges would cross one another.  Impatient with want, I  scrolled back into messages from weeks ago to find one of the photos of the head of his rigid cock glistening with pre-cum.  Thoughts of what he would feel like against my lips and tongue…what he would taste like as wrapped my mouth around his cock, rushed in.  They were quickly followed by what I wrote him next.

“Wish I was there to straddle your lap and slowly lower my cunt down onto you, and ride you slowly while exploring your mouth with mine”Blog

The flush of rising orgasm was spreading like a slow fire throughout every inch of my skin.

Sliding my fingers inside myself, I imagined they were his.  Deep inside I could feel this firm bump that I had not remembered being so pronounced before…my god my g-spot was even erect!  You know, I didn’t know g-spots could change size and shape with arousal, but here I was in the middle of the throws of lust, stroking away, and in complete awe of my new discovery.  It was round and ripe with my desire.

I pressed my fingertips even more firmly into it, drawing more circles, and my eyes opened wide with the wetness that grew.  Somehow I had brought myself to the edge of squirting all over myself with just a few small strokes.  What I really wanted was to be squirting all over his face, seeing his cheeks dripping with me, and sucking myself from his kiss.

My gaze was fixed on that photo of him, as I rubbed fingered, and stroked myself into a shaking crescendo of orgasmic bliss.  Afterwards, with moist fingers still resting against my clit, I lay there and just let those after shock tremors wash over me, being still.

And just like that, we were both up and going out into our respective worlds in a matter of minutes.

Sometimes I think I must be a saint for keeping my resolve all this time, and resisting the urge to just put the two of us together to allow us to combust.  Imaginations are a far safer playground though.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Adventures in Sexting and Why I Love The Art of the Flirt

It all started with some flirty sexting one morning on my commute to work, and ended with me in the men’s private bathroom at work fingering myself.

Flirting makes me feel so alive.  It’s an instant high that spreads through my whole body starting with a smile on my face, a flush of warmth across my skin, and moves downward to crescendo into full blown juiciness between my legs (if done well).  I’d say it’s like a drug, but of course it is, it’s dopamine, baby.   It’s the (for the most part) kind of high I get from running, which is kind of funny, because as I was Googling around I found this article that basically discusses this same parallel.

I love it even more when it’s done with someone who understands the fine art of seduction, and who enjoys the art of subtly.  I love the mental “cat and mouse” game.  Teasing, chasing, and getting caught are so much fun.  And when he tells me how hard I make him with our flirtatious interludes, I can’t hep but feel intensely satisfied at the thought.  Thinking of that always makes me smile like the Cheshire Cat.

So one morning this week as I was commuting to work (don’t worry, I wasn’t driving at the time), some random flirty text messages transported me from the hum drum of the usual routine, and into a dopamine-induced fantasy land of arousal that literally had my head dizzy with want.

sextingThey started with that playful subtly that I love, little innuendoes that tease, and eventually worked their way into full-blown sexting at it’s finest.  I could feel my pussy literally dripping tight with desire at the thought of his face buried deep between my thighs covered in my juices, imagining his tongue lapping at my clit as he slid 2…3…4…fingers deep inside my hungry cunt.  And that was just the beginning, just the opening tease to make my body ache with need for his cock to be sliding into me like a hot knife through butter.   It was a wonder I had even made it into the building at work without walking straight into a wall in the haze he had me in.

When I finally made it in and settled, I was downstairs in a common room we all share for lunches.  Two other women were there also engaged with their phones, but definitely not having an experience like I was.  I could feel my skin flush with lust, and as much as I can hide my inner world, there is only so long  and so well one can hide a ravenous primal hunger.   I became aware that I was making impish faces and involuntary light moans.  I was sitting with my legs crossed so I could rub my clit between my thighs without anyone noticing, a trick I learned when I was 14 while reading the book The Joy of Sex, and I just knew the dizzying cloud of my arousal was now too much to go unnoticed.

I told him it was a good thing he was so far away because if he were here, I would not be able to control myself.  My willpower was at zero, and I would have NEEDED to touch him.  Nothing was truer.

I know, you’re thinking what would be so wrong with that?  And while I am single, he is not.  And no, he’s not polyamorous (which I am actually quite thankful for because honestly I’ve had my share of that for this lifetime, thank you).  I suppose if I was his girlfriend I would probably want to strangle the shit out of me (and him) if I knew we were having such a lascivious sexting romp, but then really, nothing is really happening.  It’s all just talk.  No one is acting on anything close to this, however, in those moments if he had been in the same room with me, my desire was so rampant that it would have been near impossible to control.  So, luckily I wasn’t actually in that position because I don’t want to be a shitty human. willpower

Fictional moral dilemmas aside…at least I could give myself the release my body was begging for.

With my lustful desires now being impossible to adequately hide, I took myself upstairs and into the one place I knew was quiet and no one would bother me: the men’s private bathroom.  It’s tucked away in a part of the building that no one seems to bother to go to, which makes it the perfect spot to feel comfortable enough to touch myself without fear of being interrupted.  I’m a very vocal lover, even when solo, so there was no way I could take myself all the way over the edge, but at least I could rub some of this torrid desire out of myself so I could at least attempt at being focussed on work and not distracted by all the lurid thoughts I was having about what I wanted to be doing with him.

I slipped into the bathroom, locked the door behind me, pulled my pants down around my hips, and slid my fingers inside my warm, wet, slit.  I stroked my clit with the lightest of fingertips to tease myself.  I couldn’t resist sending him a photo of my fingers covered in my juices.  He told me he thought that was fucking hot and that he wanted to lick them clean.  That just made me wetter.  I was almost going to post the photo here, but decided it was more erotic to me to keep that just between the two of us.

I teased myself some more, sliding fingers up inside my pussy to caress my g-spot and free myself from the desperate need to be filled by his cock.  I knew I couldn’t keep going for much longer because if I had cum, there would have been no being quiet about it, so I fixed my clothing, splashed some cool water on my face, and did my best attempt at going back to my room to focus on the day.  I can tell you it was definitely not free of distractions, as I found myself lulled into daydreams of him bending me over, holding me down, and burying his cock deep inside my ass.

It made for a most interesting day to say the least.  Admittedly, those same thoughts have been distracting me ever since.

A Good Night’s Tweet: A Bedtime Story (Repost)

I originally posted this here on September 1st 2012, and it was later published by GetLusty on their site about a week later.
Tonight is a good night for a little time traveling back by reposting this.  May you enjoy the ride as much as I have.

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

I didn’t even attempt trying to go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight.  I’ve done that for the past two nights, but without fail, that big ripening moon in the sky did her best to keep me awake.  Blue Moon, I had my friend in Italy ask you to be quieter for me tonight so I would sleep, but you are a harsh mistress, and not a cell in my body asks for sleep as you peak at me through the curtains in my bedroom.

The moon outside my house

My friends over at GetLusty tweeted last night (yep, it’s a verb now, get used to it) asking what our favorite sexual positions were, and you know, other than names for the standard fare like Missionary and 69, I was really at a loss.  I mean, I’m not sure some of my favorite positions even have names.   I guess you could say I’m “creatively gymnastic”.  When I’m having really mind-blowing, heart-pumping, sweat-drenched, sheets are coming off the bed, “the house could fall down around me and I’d never even know” sex, I never really paused long enough to give much thought to what the things we were doing together were called.

All of our kinetic movements and gestures for positions are just that; gestures fed on the electric inertia of lustful bodies.  There is no thinking at this point, if you’re lucky.  There is no pause, no awareness of cognitive process.  I’m plugged in.  I’m an intrinsic charge in a circuit that hums and pulses with every leg thrown up and over your shoulder, every hand tightly clasped around your back dimpling into your flesh, or every hip driven back against you as you thrust into me from behind, using the length of my hair in your hands like reins.

What do I call that?  How do I name that?  How do I even do that justice with a few simple words?

Have you ever tried to describe a sexual position in one tweet?  Let me just say, it’s not easy.  It’s really challenging to be descriptive of such things with only 140 characters as your limit.  Here is what it looked like when I sent it.

“@getlusty Modified Coital alignment is right up there w/ Man seated, W straddles cock, knees bent, feet flat on bed, leans back on her hands”

It just is totally devoid of intensity and passion, which is so unlike what it actually feels like to experience.  And then I’m supposed to find an even more abbreviated way to say that?

However, if I were to tell you that one of my favorite positions is found in a moment, in an impulse…I roll you over onto your back to straddle you, your cock throbs eagerly to be back inside me again as I hover above you holding you in anticipation.   You can feel the heat of my pussy radiating down against your flesh, and your hands feverishly grab at my hips to pull me down onto you.  I love the low growl that escapes your lips as you fill me, and the quake that follows through my body like the tremors in the strings of a well strum harp.  My gaze has never left the snare of yours.  We are often like this, which is why I hunger to be in the wake of its hazel grasp.  Slowly you raise yourself up, your weight now balanced on your hands pressed firmly into the sheets beneath us.  I am like a fawn in the headlights of your desire.  Encircling the amber skin of your back, hands sliding up along the curve of your spine, I draw your broad chest to meet the rise of my porcelain flesh.  I love the feeling of your chest hair grazing my pert rose nipples, and the heat that pours out of your skin as I press myself against you, and you fold your arms around my waist.  Your voracious mouth finds mine with greedy impatience, and I can taste our sweat on your lips as I draw my tongue to yours. I long to know its intimate terrain, and each slow caress of my tongue paints my desire inside you, where only you can speak it.  I know because I sing the trail of yours left with tongue, teeth, and nail across my sinuous landscape.   My right hand’s fingers have found their way up to be nested in the grasp of your short brown hair, and I brace myself against you, holding tightly to the swell of your shoulders with my left.   On days when you would be in your head, you would interject that it has touches of gray, but that is of no concern to me.  I’ll know you when only gray remains, even if we are no longer lovers such as this by then.

Our bodies ride together; a slow steady ebb and flow like a tide to shore, but we both feel the pull of our rampant need growing.  I loosen myself from our embrace to lean back on the weight of my arms now, my hands planted firmly against the mattress cushioning us, and stretch my legs out, knee bent, behind you.  Your tumescent cock drives itself deeper inside me, as I shift the weight of my hips forward against you.  You recline back onto your hands now, the cool sheet slipping against your fingertips as you find your steady against them.  I watch your arms tremble as you climb higher to your edge with each fevered thrust of my pussy upon you.  Our breaths come in quick gasps now, and with each grind of my hips against you I can feel the feverish spill of my juices devouring your manhood.  I know how much it drives you wild with abandon to watch your cock glisten and drip with me, as you watch it part my lips, to slide, push, and plunge inside me, even when I am the one controlling our pace.

You…always know…just…how…to…push me…to the…edge where…I…am……bursting!  I arch my back and throw my head back in shame at how you bring me there with such ease, as I come quaking upon you while watching the same insatiable peak crest and course through your taught frame.  As our breaths slowly find themselves again, our sweat-covered bodies collapse into the bed underneath.  I still have you inside me, and savor the feel of you until you begin to soften. Eventually I roll off of you, and turning myself, entangle my body in your awaiting arms to drift together into slumber.

Yeah, I guess we could call that position “The X Marks the Spot” to fit it into a tweet, but still, for me, it will always be so much more.  After all, what’s in a name?

It’s almost 6am here.  The moon is making her descent back into the trees.  Maybe she’ll let me sleep now.

In The Air Today…Tonight

I spent the better part of my down time at work scouring YouTube for my most favorite scene from the movie Wild Orchid to share with you.  If you’ve seen it, it’s the scene where Carrie Otis is walking through the abandoned hotel in Rio and finds a couple having fervent, unabashed sex up against a wall under cascading water.   I just find that scene incredibly hot.  Ravenous sex up against a wall, and there’s water too?  Hot.  So hot.  “On my mind all day long” kind of hot.

It’s been one of “those” days.  The kind of day when restless desires ride me like the ocean tide to shore.  No matter what the day brings, no matter how interesting or banal the task to draw me from it, my body has other needs that won’t allow themselves forgotten or pushed aside.

I hear it’s quiet want singing beneath my clothes, simmering between my legs, smoldering under each pore of my porcelain skin.

I chased it away as best I could.  I envy men who could take themselves into the privacy of their office bathroom and have their way with themselves to free their minds from such a snare.

Unfortunately, despite my keen searching abilities, I was unable to find this scene, and although there were others from that film, none of them stoke my inner desires quite as much as the one I was hoping to find and share.

However, I reminded myself of this scene from Risky Business, my love of the heightened arousal only sex where one might get caught (even when in reality you really don’t want to be) brings, and my love of the city at night.

Please note, Tom Cruise is and has never been the least bit sexy to me.  It’s the elements of the scene more than the people in it that do it for me; the lighting the both hides and reveals, the setting, the seduction, the innocence that peels away to reveal desire. It’s a small scene of cinematic genius.  I imagine myself and a man of my choosing, and then replace these people with us.  And honestly, who can deny the sensuality of “In The Air Tonight”  by Phil Collins?

Describing Me: Word Porn of The Day

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Although I wouldn’t describe myself as being “in pain” from this, it is an agony only some of us bare inside: a desperation to know and be known by others without the masks we wear. It’s a hunger to be freed.

Well, Now What?: The Making of a Sexual Bucket List

So, as I was noodling around on Facebook this evening I came across this post from a friend which kind of made me bat my eyelashes in disbelief.  The Sexual Bucket List: 50 Things To Do Sexually Before You Die lists 50 things that the author, a fellow woman, believes to be the “must do’s” of the sexual experience, and while it may be a good start, I’m sorry, but this list needs serious revision.  Some of this stuff is just so vanilla that it’s beyond vanilla.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of vanilla sex as you may remember reading (In Praise of Vanilla), but if you’re going to make a sexual “Bucket List”, it had better have some bells and whistles!

First, allow me to go through the author’s sexual bucket list one by one.  I haven’t done all of the things she lists, but it’s kind of surprising what I have vs. what I have not.  Some of the things listed make me think the author had a very difficult time coming up with 50 things to do sexually.  My sexuality isn’t quite so limited in it’s explorations and desires.

  1. Kiss a girl – “I kissed a girl, for the first time, I kissed a girl, and I just might do it again…”
  2. Have anal – Received and given (with fingers and a strap-on for the giving end.  Rest assured, I have no penis. LOL
  3. Have a threesome – Done it (both FFM and MMF)
  4. Engage in group sex – Isn’t this really the same thing?  Ok, so I’ve went up to 4, how’s that for a group?
  5. Have phone sex – Done it.  Phone sex always makes me a little nervous, and I’ve never really been able to figure out why.
  6. Masturbate – Um, seriously?  Does this even need to be on the list?  Isn’t this a no brainer?
  7. Use a vibrator – Again, really?
  8. Use a sex toy on someone else – Just one?
  9. Be tied up – Too many times to count
  10. Tie someone up – Same answer as #8
  11. Have sex in a public space – Always looking for new places! Suggestions?
  12. Be a voyeur and watch others having sex (live, porn does not count) – Where I wasn’t a part of it?  Hmm, I don’t think so.
  13. Sex in a car – More than a few
  14. Sex at a drive-in – Is there another reason to go to a drive in?  Actually, there must be because I have yet to have sex at the drive-in.
  15. Mile-high club – We decided the bathroom was too small, so, no.
  16. Sex with a stranger – I knew him for about 20 minutes, does that count?
  17. One-night stand – More like a “One afternoon stand”
  18. Married sex (the best kind, in my opinion) – Yep, it wasn’t my best, but at the age of 21 you really don’t know what “good sex” really is yet.
  19. Sex on a boat – Nope, can’t say I have…yet
  20. Sex in a body of water – I’ve had sex in a few pools, but never in the ocean.  I really need to rectify that.
  21. Light spanking – I’m sorry, I literally just LOL’d when I read this one again.  Bare handed, hairbrush, paddle, and of all of the above, I prefer a nice firm hand.
  22. Read erotica – Yawn.  I write it.  I wrote my first story in 8th grade, and my English teacher leaned over my desk and said to me, “I don’t think that’s currently what we’re studying”.  True story, bro!
  23. Play strip poker/Monopoly/card game – I lost, or won, not sure who really loses in that game. =)
  24. Sex in the shower – So many showers, so many!
  25. Sex standing up against a wall – Against the wall of the shower and in a movie theater bathroom stall.
  26. Sex with no kissing – Sex MUST include kissing!  I am far too oral to consider sex without lips on lips.
  27. Sex in the pitch black – Again, really? Who the fuck puts this on a sexual bucket list?  
  28. Sex in the broad daylight – Outdoors in the sun!
  29. Making out with no sex long after you’re no longer a virgin – I was just thinking about this today.  I had the most gloriously sexy 2-hour make out session with a man I was long-time friends with, and although we attempted to make a date to finish that energy off in sexual crescendo we never ended up doing so.  
  30. Sex in a tent in the wilderness – On a volcano no less!  Also out in the woods many a time.
  31. Watch porn together – While  yes, I have done this (and with my ex-husband), I don’t find porn sexy.  Ugly people who obviously aren’t even enjoying themselves does nothing for me.  
  32. Watch porn alone – When I was 12 I watched a porn film that I stole from my brother’s secret stash.  It was called something like “The Layout”.  It turned me on, but it was really stupid and cheesy.
  33. Learn to give yourself multiple orgasms – Yes, but I prefer them with partners.
  34. Sex on the beach – On a lifeguard shack on the beach in the Virgin Islands
  35. Blindfolds – Occasionally
  36. Using ice sexually – Ice, chocolate sauce, Nutella, ice cream, pudding, fruit, jam, juice, and even a cucumber.
  37. Sexual role play – I was a bad, bad, girl, and I needed to be punished.  
  38. Whipped cream – Yawn
  39. La Perla lingerie sex – It’s lingerie, really?  It frightens me that this even needs to be listed.
  40. Frederick’s of Hollywood lingerie sex – Same as 39
  41. Sex with someone much older – I used to always date older men, but the degrees of separation varied.  When I was 23 I had sex with a man who was then 45.  I thick 22 years is the greatest difference.
  42. Sex with someone younger (legal!) – Last year I had sex with someone who was 25.  I was 37.
  43. Sex in a foreign country, possibly with a foreigner – I’ve had sex in Canada and the guy was Canadian, does that even count?
  44. A quickie in a skirt – A quick what?  I’m sure I’ve had sex in a skirt before.
  45. A longie in the rain – A “longie”? Again, I laugh out loud.  I’ve kissed in the rain, but never had sex in the rain before.
  46. Sex in the ocean while people swim all around you – Not yet
  47. Feather ticklers – My ex-husband and I used to go to this craft store in the mall across the street from my college apartment in Jersey City, and we would buy all sorts of crazy things just to raise their eyebrows.  We bought a peacock feather and had lots of fun both in, and out, of that store.
  48. Sex while “altered” whether by alcohol or something else – Yes, more than once.
  49. Learn to orgasm in less than five minutes from intercourse alone – Well, I never really timed it.
  50. Silent sex in a full house – For anyone that knows me intimately, they know how much of a challenge this is for me, but yes, I’ve done it.  It wasn’t truly “silent” though, just quieter than the usual go-around.

Now, another friend had started my thoughts kindling on this a few months ago when he asked me if,  given my sexual openness, there was anything left that I had not yet done that I wanted to do.  At the time I really had a hard time coming up with something I felt I had a yearning to try.

polyFor the longest time I had wanted to have a threesome with two men.  I had had numerous threesomes where it was me, a male lover, and another woman, but the MMF threesome eluded me.  I was once lovers with a man and his best friend at the same time, just not in the same bed.  There was one night where we all got friendly together on the living room floor, but eventually one of them bowed out, and left the two of us alone to finish the evening off.  Those men, not so into each other sexually.  In my opinion, and in my ultimate fantasy of this MMF threesome, both men have to at least be sexually “friendly” enough to share a bed together and not freak out if they end up touching.  In short, this would work best with bi men, but at least with men who are bi-sensual.  Of course, I’m kind of greedy, and the whole point of the MMF threesome is to have two men ravishing me.

In July of 2012 I finally did get to have my MMF threesome with two bi-friendly (well hell, they were REALLY friendly, but I can’t claim either one as  out as bisexual), however it was not quite what I had expected.  It was great, don’t get me wrong.  It was incredibly sexy, and in some ways, it fulfilled more than one long-dreamt of fantasy bucket list item (the second being the combination of the 3 of us), but it happened too quickly for me to be completely comfortable with it.  I blame tequila and snap decision making.  The one man and I have been long time lovers.  In the list answers above he was the 45 yr old man I slept with when I was 23.  There’s a whole separate post here that I have been meaning to write, so I’l save the story for later and get back to the idea of what’s left on my bucket list.

So, what’s left?

Without further ado, here is my sexual bucket list.

Portia Blush’s Sexual Bucket List of Must Do’s (Or Must Do Over’s)

  1. I want a “do-over” on the male/male/female threesome.  Definitely.  It probably would not be with the same original two men.
  2. Fisting – I want to finally experience all 5 fingers inside me, a whole hand filling me.  The lover that I explored this with extensively could never get the wide part of his hand inside me, so we only got up to 4.
  3. Sex in a glass elevator – Not sure why, but this has always been a fantasy of mine
  4. Fucking a male lover with a strap on – Ever since I dated a bi guy in college I have had fantasies about it.  I had one lover who I did this with, but it didn’t really work well because I bought a double-ended dildo that was specifically designed to be worn with one end inserted into your pussy that would stimulate your g-spot while you fucked your parter with the larger end, and although they said it would work without a harness, it didn’t, and without the harness it just wouldn’t stay snug up inside me enough to work as intended.  So, standard dildo and harness next time.  I have a stellar leather harness that was custom made for me from JT’s Stockroom. (Oh how I love that store – and they send you tootsie pops with every order!  Sex and Candy, just like the song)
  5. Having a Violet Wand used on me – I have mo idea what it will feel like, or if I’ll even find it as sexy as I think, but it sure looks fucking hot, so I want to at least try it.violetwand

So far, that’s all I have.  I’m sure as I explore even more that something new will find it’s way into my curiosity.  As for now, just perfecting some of the things I’ve already tried sounds like a grand adventure to me.

What’s on your sexual bucket list?

Say Hell Yes To The Dress

I went shopping this afternoon because I needed work clothes, but instead of getting what I planned, I fell in love with this little number!

I saw it and instantly thought to myself, “I MUST try THAT on! God damn I hope it fits well!”

And it did!!! It will look even better when I am 5lbs lighter, but it’s a stunner none the less!

This dress just screams sexy to me! It’s mint green chiffon, but the crisp black detailing gives it edge. It’s like a long sensuous kiss from a lover who bites your lip between their teeth just as you think their mouth is pulling away from yours. It’s. delicate with a hint of vixen-like villainy.

I’m not sure I am going to be able to wait to springtime to spring this little number on a date.

Hot damn, I’m 37 and this dress is to remind me that I am still young, and one sexy bitch…err, I mean, lady!

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Dr. Ruth Lied To You: Size Does Matter

drruthWhen I was younger, say around 12 or 13, I loved watching talk shows. Remember Sally Jesse Raphael? Aw, yeah, one of my favorites to watch on those not so exciting after school afternoons. This one particular show Sally had on Dr. Ruth, and I have always remembered her cute, mischievous, wrinkle-adorned face, teaching me and the rest of the audience in t.v. land, in her adorable German accent, while referring to penises, “It’s not the length or the size of the penis that matters, but it’s how you use it!”

I’m sorry, Dr. Ruth, but here I stand (ok, I’m really sitting) at 37 years old to tell you that is utter and complete bullshit. Penis size MATTERS.

Allow me, blogging world, to share with you why size does matter, at least to me. Honestly, any woman who tells you it doesn’t matter is lying to one degree or another. Cock size matters, it’s just not always a negative slant on how or why it does.

Exhibit A: Chia Pet

When I was around the age of 26 I had a male friend that I was really attracted to. He was HUGE; all of 6′ 5″ tall, blonde, and in great shape. Tres Nordic. There’s a fun story here, but I’m going to get to the real meat of the subject for now: his meat. *smiles* Yes, his cock was by far the largest and most impressive in length and girth that I have yet to come across, no pun intended.

Now, I am a huge fan of fellatio as some of you may have read here on my blog. I absolutely love giving head, and I know I am damn good at it, as confirmed by many a lover. (thank you alt.sex pages, for all those tips back in 1999) However, my favorite pastime was seriously thwarted when I chiapetwas in bed with him. This was the first and only time this has a) happened to me and b) that I slept with this guy. I’m no porn star deep throat, but I can relax my mouth enough to take the fullness of a man’s cock in, with this exception. I was licking and sucking away, my mouth increasingly filling with the swell of him, until finally I sat up on my knees, looked him straight in the eye and said, “I’m sorry, I just can’t do this, it’s not humanly possible”.

Hence, this man has forever been named “Chia Pet” in my lexicon of lovers because he just kept growing, and growing, and growing! Cha-cha-cha-CHIA!

The unfortunate side effect of men with huge penises is that I think they tend to rely on their cock size alone to get them by as far as bedroom skills are concerned, and while I do like a longer and thicker penis on my lovers, if you don’t know how to use it, you might as well just stop before you get started with me.

Relying on your size alone is not going to help you pass the test. That’s like thinking that reading Cliff’s Notes will provide you the wealth of actually reading the book itself! Make sure you know how to fence if your going to bring that sword to my bed! Touche!

There is a lot a skilled tongue can make up for, but you just can’t replace a man who has rhythm and finesse when it comes to pleasuring you with his man meat. Yep, I said “man meat” LOL

 

Exhibit B: The Tall and The Short Of It

I had been dating this rather tall, large-framed, man from Canada. We’ll call him “Big C” for this example. He was kind of bordering on fat, save for his stature.

We had been sexual partners for several months, and I almost married him due to an early midlife crisis. Thank God for the sudden awakening of common sense! (It was like thun-dah, light-ning…) Anyhoo, when I say tall think 6’4″! That is a LOT of man, but although one would imagine his body parts would be similarly proportioned, alas, they were not.

Now, he wasn’t what I would consider small by any means, just on the lower end of the median of cock sizes, and his girth was less thick. He wasn’t a pencil dick, but his cock wasn’t burly like the rest of him. He fit in my mouth well, he felt good to ride, everything seemed ok. That was until the shortest of all my lovers came back into the picture.

I was really just waiting for the right time to disengage from “Big C”. I was coming out of my pre-mid-life crisis, waking up to my inner “Danger Will Robinson, Danger!” alarm, and needed to get that guy out of my life, STAT. He was a serious train wreck, and I did not want to be riding that train when it collided with life head on! I would love to pretend this relationship never happened, but alas, it did. Of course, I’d love to pretend the relationship with “Short Stuff” didn’t happen either, but lets just say I have learned a lot in recent years, School of Hard Knocks style.

What was the point again? Oh, yes, cock size….

So, previously to this relationship with Big C, I had been lovers with Short Stuff, and the stars and moons aligned such that we were all at this same camp out one summer. Short Stuff is the shortest man I have ever been lovers with. Shorter than all 5’8″ of me, SS was only 5’6″ tall. He once told me that “tall women were worth the climb”, and he was so right.

I ended up sneaking off with Short Stuff for a morning tenting rendezvous (read as sexy time in a tent), unbeknownst to Big C. The moment I climbed on top of him and slid my pussy down over his awaiting cock, I knew. I knew exactly what I had been missing! He was long, but not overly so, and thick. I reveled in the feel of his cock filling me so fully, it was like a hand in a fine silk glove. The way his rock-hard shaft pressed out against my juicy walls, and how if I slid all the way down him his tip nestled snug against my cervix was nothing short of pure unadulterated HEAVEN! I couldn’t get enough of how he felt inside me. I was ravenous for the feeling I had been unaware I had been missing for all these months! And although one might imagine he would have been more average in size, his cock was the beast of inches that his stature lacked.

cucumbersI learned two things from this tawdry sexcapade: A) Size DOES matter, at least to me. It just feels so much better to be so utterly and completely filled, and B) We are all the same height while lying down *smiles*

So, know this my male counterparts in readership land, size does indeed matter to us women, no matter how much we either are programmed to not believe so, or lead you to believe through our own omission. Your cock size matters to us whether it’s too big for us to swallow, too small for us to really get off on, or whatever it may be for us each individually. Just like you have your preferences for our breast size, or for the tightness, or lack thereof, of our vaginas, your cock size matters to us too. This is my own personal experience. As always, your mileage may vary.