I Need an Escape

I know I’m not the first person to want to flee from reality for a while. It’s a feeling I would assume everyone has experienced. There is a lot in my life coming to head at the moment. Work stress and the added pressure from my upcoming decision on what to do with Jack has made my chest feel tight and tiny furrows to appear between my brows.

So I’m running away for the weekend. Where, you ask? To the haven and welcoming arms of dear sweet Hy. Everything seems better in her rose-tinted world. I’m so thankful she has invited me down. I have a huge bottle of white wine chilling in my fridge to bring. And will raid my liqueur cabinet for some other goodies to take as well.

See you soon my sweet friend. It’s been far too long.

I Want You to Ride My Ass Again

“I want you to ride my ass again,” Jack told me over lunch last week. With a covert look over his shoulder to make sure no one had approached our patio table he continued. “Remember how I had been fucking you and then you told me to roll over so you could rub my back? And then you were sitting on my ass massaging my shoulders and kissing my neck. And then you started grinding your pussy on my tailbone and you did it harder and faster. And then you came on my ass, and I felt you squirt and it ran down my ass crack. That was amazing! We have to do that again.” Continue reading

Here on My Shoulder

I stretched tonight after I had toweled off after my shower, easing the tension and soreness. Clasping my hands behind my back, I aimed to connect my shoulder blades, my tendons squealing a little from the pain. My hands released and then took turns kneading the muscles up and down my arms.

As I preformed this evening ritual I thought about the decisions I’m faced with on a daily basis and the analogy August brought up about the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. Like many people, I feel that tugging in one direction or the other often. What I should do versus what my baser nature wants to do.

While this ran through my head I took a good long look at my shoulders. They are broad. Always have been. I will never have the narrow, delicate frame of my mother, and I’m good with that. They are surprisingly strong. I can remember many times I’ve moved things without a second thought and been asked how I had done that. I’ve never done strength training or weight lifting… It’s just how I was made.

I believe that I was designed with the body I need. So whether the angel or devil who sits on them wins the next round, I’m going to be thankful for my strength, both physically and emotionally. Throughout this life I expect to need both. If not for myself, then so I may be a comfort and help to others.

One of my shoulders… Continue reading

Lusting After Another

Nathan and I have “couple friends” now. One of them is a husband and wife who are several years older than us. It began with the wife—Kate—and I being friends and now that Nathan and I are a regular thing, it’s grown to include the men more often than not. Last night we attended a casual get together with them.

A little bit of back story:

Several years ago at a fancy holiday gala I had indulged a bit too much in the open bar. That’s rare for me. Normally I stay happily buzzed but still completely in control. But on this night, when I stood up after having who knows how many vodka tonics, the room spun. I placed a hand on the white leather upholstered chair of the hotel bar and willed myself to stay steady. Chris, my friend’s husband, noticed. In moments he was at my side.

“Kate,” he called to her, “I’m going to walk Marian up.”

She smiled and waved us on.

“Thank you,” I whispered, “Is it obvious?”

“No,” he said, “I just happened to see you stand up and saw how quickly you reached for the chair.”

He slipped a strong arm around my waist to steady me as I maneuvered toward the elevators across the marble floored lobby in four and a half inch heels. We didn’t have to wait long for the lift. Once inside I let my head rest on his shoulder. The surge of desire I felt for him hit me like a brick wall. I’d had a crush on him for ages but this was different. It was raw lust.

The doors opened and I stepped out, thanking him as I exited. I needed to get away from him before I made a fool of myself. With one hand on the wall for balance I made my way to my room. I was almost there when I looked over my shoulder and saw him behind me. Continue reading

Conflicted

Every good story has conflict. That’s what we’re taught in our English literature classes. Without conflict there is no story, because resolving the problem—in one way or another—is the very crux of a story. Otherwise there’s no plot. And a plotless story… well it’s nothing more than words on a page.

I think of myself as a storyteller, and of this blog as a place to chronicle my own journey. Not so much in journal form, but simply a nook to let my thoughts pour out, a place to process my actions and my desires… especially those of a sexual nature because I had no outlet for that. I could tell my mother about troubles at work or my co-worker about a weekend trip. But what about those more deviant tales? Those live here.

But I’m less deviant now. The sharp contrast of how my sexual nature has evolved in the past two and a half years came into crystal clear focus last night. Pent up stress and anxiety due to work and changing of medications came bubbling to the surface. I desperately wanted to go to a bar, down some whiskey, and lure which ever man caught my eye to my side. And then… just toy with him. Like a cat with a mouse, tease and flirt, giving nothing but my smile and maybe a deep, lingering kiss at the end of the night. Continue reading

Thoughts While Walking

Flames of clouds lick the sky, white against the midnight blue. Swirling. Twisting. Violent vapors in the air.
I want to writhe like them, free, drifting. Fill myself with drink and move with abandon. And then to feel a hot smooth tongue trace the lines of my body. Plundering. Taking. Fingers possessing. Desire overtaking.

Rainy Mornings and Blowjobs

Thunder clapped outside my curtained windows before sunrise. The previous lightening had scattered flickers of white light across the room. Burned in my retinas was the outline of the familiar space… the four-poster bed, the lingerie chest, the vanity with my embarrassing wealth of expensive perfumes… and long, man-shaped lump under the covers beside me.

Nathan has practically moved in. Something I enjoy, yet am still getting used to. I question my worthiness of him. He’s a good man. True, loyal and faithful. I am not made of such pure materials. I still talk to former lovers without his knowledge. I have this blog, of which he will never be informed. I daydream of illicit meetings. But I compartmentalize like a beast and brushed all that aside as he nuzzled towards me and took a mouthful of my exposed breast.  Continue reading

Creative Noodling the World!

I took a look at my all-time stats today for about the first time in forever and was excited with what I found. Except for a swath across north/central Africa and countries that aren’t on speaking terms with mine, most of the WordPress world map has some color on it. And that makes me smile. At least one person in 190 countries has landed in my little nook of the internet. I don’t know what brought them here, how they found their way, but for what began as a place to simply begin to process how and why my heart was broken, to have coverage almost the world over is more than a little thrilling. But it’s humbling too. What I have here… it’s just words. But they are my words. And for so many to actually read them brings me such joy. I wonder if there is a man in the mountains of Austria who let my steamy thoughts warm him on a cold night. Or could there be a woman on the shores of Peru finding comfort in my melancholy musings. I’ll never know. But I do know those of you who comment and encourage keep me going way more than you can ever realize. Thank you. Now if I can just get WordPress to do the map in shades of green…

Creative Noodling Worpress Map

Countries that haven’t yet had people stumble my way: The Western Sahara, Mauritania, Mali, Cote d’Ivoire, Guinea, Niger, Chad, Central African Republic, South Sudan, Gabon, Iran, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, Somalia, North Korea, Cuba and Svalbard.

A Wanton State of Mind

I want to feel the full length of my naked body pressed up against yours.

I want to tongue your balls.

I want to wrap my legs around your neck.

I want to hear your guttural moan as you lose control.

I want to rest my head on your chest and hear your pounding heart beat.

I want you to be closer.

I want to have desire light me on fire.

I want you to pull me close and kiss me with wild abandon.

I want.

I am wanton.

Exposing Myself for the Sake of Community

I went back and forth for days on whether or not I was going to participate in Hy’s Boobday. Obviously the side that wanted to won. One of the things I love about how she does it is that anyone can participate as long as they follow her guidelines. It’s inclusive. And there is something truly beautiful about that. And that was the deciding factor. I want to support an inclusive community. And if I can do that by taking and sharing a photo that I feel celebrates the figure I was given, then I’m good with that.

Not only did it take me a while to decide if I was going to join in, it was also a thirty minute process of trying to capture the feeling I wanted in the photo. I’m exposing myself. And I wanted the vulnerability that comes with that to be felt in the image. Yes. There were some I culled that had me “presenting” myself… back arched, breasts forward. And they were damn sexy. But right now, that’s not how I feel. So I shared this. This simple photo of me in a threadbare v-neck tee left behind by an old lover many years ago.

My fist submission to Boobday.

My fist submission to Boobday.

Happy Boobday, y’all.