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.

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You’re Gonna Have to Face It…You’re Addicted to My Blog?

It appears that, somewhere back in the middle of October and unbeknownst to me until recently, that flirty, dirty, blogger friend of mine, Joe, gifted me with the infamous Addictive Blog Award!

In case you missed it last week when I dedicated this post on striptease to him, Joe writes the sinfully delicious blog, My Jaded Parts.  Journeying through Joe’s mind is an interesting ride involving his sexual forays, too many glasses of wine, knee-high sock fetishes, fantasies involving ex-girlfriends, and lots of other sexy hubbub, so be prepared for a great read!  You should go check him out!  But not right now…keep reading this post first!  (I’m so bossy, aren’t I?)

Now, there are a few rules to this award, so here goes:

Award Rules: Thank the person awarding you. Share a little about why you blog and how the journey started. Paste the blog award on your page. Nominate 10 other bloggers you feel deserve the award.

First, thanks Joe!  You are one rock solid piece of sexy, cerebral, lovin’.  You’re a juicy read always!

Second…Why do I blog?

I had a roommate in college who told me that I “should be famous, so that everyone can know you”, and since I’m still not famous yet, I figured I would go with the latter part.

I want people to know me, but not necessarily me “specifically”, but more so the facets of me that some part of them can relate to.  Kind of like finding a proverbial life raft afloat on the vast expanse of the ocean we call humanity.  The reason the “US” in “erogenoUS” is capitalized is because, while these are true stories of my erotic life, they are really stories of sex and sexuality that all of us, female or male, can relate to on some level, personally.  I want people to read me, and while learning about me, learn something about themselves too.  That’s the simplest version, at least. 🙂  All of that, plus, I love to write!  Always have, always will.  I started this blog back in June of this year, and I see it as a spring-board for me to bring sex-positive awareness to the world around me, one inner musing at a time.

Now on to my Top 10 Nominations for Addictive Blogs  (da dada dah!)  These are not all sex-related, just so ya know.  They are in NO particular order:

1) The Fur Files – Fern is bushels full of absolute awesome, and I love reading her!  Humor-infused love of home-life, sex-life, and cat-lady life: what’s not to love?  Plus, she’s also a super saucy erotica writer, too!

2) The Redhead Bedhead – We share a passion for all things sex-positive.  Her vulnerability and openness is addictively brilliant! She is helping save the world from mediocre sex. I read her and feel like we would be best friends if we met outside of blogging land. 🙂 Her blog is all kinds of awesome.

3) Why Am I Here in a Handbasket? – She says far more with fewer words than anyone on WordPress!  Addictively funny!

4) Go Deeper Press – Erotica and sexuality with honesty, humor, and wit! Love these ladies!!

5) Smut for Smarties – Lady Cheeky’s insatiably addicting sex-positive packed erotica blog for people who know smart is sexy!

6) My Jaded Parts – Duh!

7) Not So Sex In The City – Saucy reading!  She makes me feel like I’m not as “out there” as I thought I was!

8) Many Shades of Sexy – 3 sexy ladies, 3 sexy different perspectives!  One amazing blog!  They have been quiet lately, but I hold out hope they’ll be back.

9) The Bloggess – Unless you have been sleeping under a VERY big rock, you already know how motherbleeping fall-off-my-chair laughing-all-the-time STELLAR  she is! If not, GO READ HER NOW!

10)  Kink in Motion – She wrote one of the best articles on kink and fear play that I have ever read.  She also has a wickedly fun sense of humor!

So there you have it, now go explore!!!

A Good Night’s Tweet: A Bedtime Story

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.

Reinventing The Squeal

I don’t understand the fascination or should I say, the preoccupation, that our society has with porn.  I don’t find porn exciting to look at, or even remotely erotic.  Watching people fuck that have zero, if any, interest in or desire for one other, is boring.

While I could be totally off base here, I am going to venture a guess that the real issue people have with porn (although they might not be cognizant of it), isn’t that it’s people having graphic, carnal, balls-in-your-face sex, but that it’s people having graphic, carnal, balls-in-your-face sex, while totally devoid of any real intimate connection.   “Whoa, hold onto your panties, girlie!”, I bet you’re thinking.  Why does sex always need to have some emotional or intellectual component for it to be good?  Simple answer: because sex without those things is just about as exciting as folding the laundry on a Saturday night while watching reruns of Friends on Netflix.  Shoot me now.

Those vacant facial expressions they use to attempt to mimic the looks of lust, pleasure, passion, and joy don’t even come close to what those emotions actually look like in reality.  Their movements are cumbersome, mechanical, and strained.  I find their shallow attempts to recreate the cavernous depths of my sensual experiences of desire, ingenuous and transparent.  There is nothing erotic about the lack of connection they have with that undulating skin pop they call a partner.  They’re nothing more than a complacent puppet.  The director is just going to call “Cut!”, they’ll walk off set, fluff your hair, check their voicemails, and wonder if they remembered to turn off the coffee pot before they left the house that morning.  There is nothing enticing about watching robots have sex.  Well, unless they’re really robots having sex, because who wouldn’t want to watch Data and Seven of Nine get it on?  Just sayin’  I would still do Seven of Nine, and I’m pretty cemented on being 95% straight, so you see my point.

I want to watch two people who lust for one another, not born of scripted scenarios, but of devious hunger.  I want to see what happens between two people as their unabashed want for one another waxes into fully ripened primal need.  I want to witness what happens when they forget someone is watching; their inhibitions peeling away with each brush of the skin, each tremulous breath, each ravenous kiss.  I long to see people engulfed in their passion, hair tangled, sweat dripping, heads thrown back praising the beckoning heights of pleasure their spirits soar to.  I want to see each growl of abandon, each grimace of breathless engorgement, slip across their lips.  I want to feel the flush of my own rising eros sweep and spread like wildfire through my skin.

I want to be bewitched by the muse of your intimacy, and sullied by the ache of your flesh.  I want to want you.

Artist Unknown

And for that all to happen, for two people to be so enchanted by one another, so unchained to the choreography of sex, there has to be some form of energetic connection.  There has to be an intimacy that is shared.  Intimacy, that need not be accompanied by love, but by genuine like and reverence.  “Into me, you see”  Two people must meet each other on some level of emotional, and or intellectual congruency for theirs’ to be a passion that is worthy of igniting, and capturing.  That’s sexy.   That, is highly erotic.  That makes my panties moist.

We love to peek into people’s lives.  That’s why sites like Facebook, Twitter, and oh yes, our beloved WordPress are so intoxicating and popular.  We’re ensnared by observing the otherwise ordinary rituals of strangers loves, hates, joys, and pains, as they weave through what we casually umbrella as the “everyday life”.  We see and feel it all through the lens of our own experiences.  We become, in a way, secret lovers.  It is the intimacy shared we find the most titillating, for otherwise these moments in their lives fall flat across the page, and become commonplace to our own.

I don’t want to watch ugly muscle-choked men only picked for their giganto-cocks, having robo-sex with women donning Good-Year blimp-sized plasti-tits.  Real people do not look like this.  Real women have breasts that heave and sway, that move with their bodies, not just straddle their chests like fleshy hood ornaments.  We have sleek and slender lines, bold and curvaceous lines, dips, swells, peaks, and valleys.   And so do the men we love too!  We have the scars of surviving a full and vibrant life, and we don’t need any of that airbrushed out of us (unless by our own choosing).  We have tits and cocks of all sizes, shapes, and colors, and the banquet of choice is vibrant and thrilling.  Yes, we all have our innate preferences for what, or I should say who, we find attractive, and that is great!  Thats exactly how it should be, and it’s what keeps things interesting.  This, unfortunately, is an appreciation I see lacking in the majority of the porn that I have seen.  I’d personally rather watch two average people get it on with total fervid passion, than two “altered” people just going through the motions pretending.  Wouldn’t you?

If only I could reinvent porn.