my fantasies

I've been thinking about this one.. and there are explicit ones I'm sure I'll get to writing about someday, but what I'd like most today:

I want a club.  I want a salon.  I want readings and music, spirited banter, and sex.  I want a safe place full of books, with many rooms, richly appointed and warmly lit.  I want a cadre of companions, a cluster of comrades.  A place where anything is possible, and sex is always on the table.  I want it full of eminently fuckable, smart, interesting, funny, creative, people.
I want delicious comfort food.  I want a gigantic bathroom- with chaise longues, and huge, deep copper tubs, with lush, happy plants.  I want velvet curtains, and sexy little nooks and crannies.  Rooms with giant overstuffed chairs and deep leather couches.  With game tables.  And four poster beds in the bedrooms.  With our own little logo and cloth napkins.  I want a closet full of toys, and costumes.  A place both mirthful and sexual, big enough for parties and available all the time.
I want a discreet and clever staff, a brilliant butler/manager, a bartender in a uniform.  A place worthy of Agent Provocateur and Kiki de Montparnasse.  I want it to be comfortable and playful and darkly sexy at the same time.

I realize that my favorite part of the swingers parties I've attended is the end- the sated people in partial dress, lounging together in a shared, spent comfort.  When you've discovered that the space IS actually safe. (Not that it's always like that- but in a perfect world).  I want a club that is safe in that way, but always bubbling with spirit and possibility. 

This is what I want today.  Maybe tomorrow I'll want to be pushed up against a wall and fucked in an alley.

grey matters

I've been reasonably happily married for twelve years.  Recently I've started playing with new people. And by playing, I mean fucking. With my husband's knowledge and tolerance- if not outright enthusiasm.  So far he doesn't want to join me, but understands my need and is willing to let me go wherever it is that that need pulls me.  So, now I live in a little bit of a grey zone.  I'm on adventures that have been blowing my mind around sex, and yet, I really can't talk about them much at all- having determined that the societal expectations around monogamy and marriage are more than I want to challenge.  Hence the blog.  Hello, Blogger, I love you.

Where I've needed to go so far has included- almost always accompanied by N-: a strip club, a swingers party (twice), a swingers club, various hourly hotels, and on adventures that the above locations having been a part of but not the endgame itself: for example,  I've let N. pick out my panties, and dictate my moves (he is infinitely gentlemanly- but he does spank and pull hair occasionally- both things it turns out I like), request photos, and give me assignments. 
 I have kissed a woman, and felt her fingers in my cunt.  I have tested the waters of internet dating, an adventure in and of itself; writing the profile was illuminating and fun.  I've been on a couple of dates as a result- one that ended in a blowjob. (This still makes me blush- I never had much casual sex, and I find that I'm mildly ashamed and embarrassed by this... tho that just makes me think it's one of the grey zones I should explore).
I've also written some smut, and read some aloud (both totally fun).  I've recorded myself coming, and sent that recording to N.

This year has included a lot of firsts for me, and I'm excited about what the future may hold.  I'm also trepidatious-I think the key for me will be to stay true to myself and go at my own pace. Of course, the only way to know where your walls are is to brush up against them ;-).

and speaking of boundaries;

My favorite Christmas present is a copy of Madonna's 1992 paean to sex, Sex.

Wow.

Now, I am an unabashed Madonna fan, but more Madonna in a holistic sense, rather than her music specifically.

Back in 1992, when Sex came out, I was nowhere near buying a $50 book, and in retrospect I wasn't ready to look at that book either. 

Now that I am playing with my sexuality in a new way, i.e. looking at it straight on, I have renewed respect for those who have done so before me.  As has happened before, I'm inspired by Madge's willingness to go there, and go there full out.  In public.

She's at the pinnacle of her power and fame here, and her response is to give more, expose MORE.  Yes, I know, it's Madonna, duh.  But still.  She really goes for it.  The pictures are hot.  As are the written fantasies.  And her friends... Isabella Rosellini, Naomi Campbell, Vanilla Ice (!)... all hot. 

And damn, 34 year old naked Madonna is a beautiful thing to behold.

boundaries

"Within boundaries creativity abounds"

Quote of the day from random cute yoga teacher.

comparison

The ultimate killer.

As I enter into the world of sex bloggers, I'm staggered by the variety and frankness of the things people reveal, and do; I assume they're being (mostly) honest.  I haven't been a follower of sex blogs, so I'm just now looking at what's out there.  It makes my eyes bug, and my head shake in wonderment, and then both the comparison and the doubt set in. What could I possibly have to contribute?

And then there is the other side of comparison- that which opens the Pandora's Box of jealousy and envy.

I am physically small. Sometimes I love that, other times I wish I was bigger. There were many years when I wished I was taller multiple times a day. I still do, in certain circumstances: particularly out at night, or at any general admission event, or in a bar, or standing while talking to someone much taller than I am.

But height here is just an easy out: there are all sorts of comparisons that I can make that will leave me feeling less.  Suffice it to say that in the end, nothing good comes from comparison. Staying true to who you are and appreciating what you've got is as close to being centered as I can see.

dear N,

I can't adequately express the thrill and appreciation I have about having you (and having you) in my life.

You make me smile a million times a day. You push me in directions I want to go. You play with me... You compel me. You make me think. You turn me on. You spank me- every now and then.

I've liked you, and lusted for you, since before we actually knew each other- a little sparkle in my life that made everything more interesting and fun. 

I have told you, and it is true, that I have a knack for finding the right people at the right time- people who are catalytic in my life. I have never doubted that you are one of these. It's part of why I invited myself into your life. That, and the lust thing.

I feel lucky every day that we found each other.

With love and Like, and a plenitude of Lust,

L.

banana bread

We joked about my ability to handle a banana as one flew out of the mixer. I was making banana bread. He sat at the table. He was wearing the look that always made me nervous- like he was going to devour me:  it was inevitable.

Then we went upstairs. It was quiet. We didn't talk much. We spread the duvet on the floor. Sunlight streamed through the skylight.

I told him I felt imperfect in the bright light. He told me imperfections were real, and that I was beautiful.

We removed each other's clothes. Slowly, with deliberation.

His hair was tawny in the light. His cock, hard, big, and wet. Until him, I'd never encountered a guy whose cock wept with excitement. It was intoxicating.

He is bigger than me, by a lot. Long legged and tall. His hands, hard fingered and smooth, and large on my ass as he pulled me into his body.

He kissed me and I melted into him. And then he spread my legs, bending to take me with his mouth, his fingers. Looking up into my eyes to watch his effect. I let him see me- opened myself to his ministrations. His hands held my thighs, and sometimes my ass, scooping it like he was holding a melon. Eating me like I sustained him.

I came hard, in shuddering shaking waves.

He turned me over, onto my hands and knees, and began to fuck me. At first it was slow, again deliberate. Soon it was harder, faster, insistent. He owned our movements, and rode me fiercely. Once upon a time we both worried that he was too big for me. His cock hit the roof of my cunt, and filled me almost to overflowing. Now we knew that I held what he gave me, and he was no longer worried. Instead he was thorough.

I could feel him stiffening further, his balls smacking me as he drove us on.

He withdrew, coming hard on my back. Striping me with his wet streams, his weight falling down to cover me, cuddle me under his arms. We breathed in unison.

asshole

"You look pretty today" he said. The guy I used to fuck. Hearts don't break in a moment, they do it in circular time... over and over again.

sex and fashion

I went to see Cabaret way back when with Alan Cumming in the role of the Emcee. What I remember most was how transfixed I was by his rouged nipples.

Perusing my local, and excellent, sex shop a couple of days ago, I was struck by the fashion of sex. There is such a particular direction that one is pointed in when one becomes interested in exploring sex and related toys. The dildos and toys themselves make perfect sense, designed as they are to conform to the shape and needs of the body. But the stylized whips, and black leather restraints? The cheesy pasties and chaps? Why haven't we done better? Or- we have, but only in high fashion- Alexander McQueen, or Azzedine Alaia or the late great Gianni Versace come immediately to mind.

Shouldn't we be able to translate those concepts into something affordable and cool? Sexual for sure, and leather, why the fuck not, but not cheesy streetwalker slut? Am I asking for too much?

nooner

The day started badly. I woke late to find I had washed a lipstick (a Nars favorite) in with a very full load of my most often worn and loved clothing. The pinkish waxy splotches totaled much of the load.

I remembered to send N. a photo with a few underwear choices; he chose some grey lace boy-shorts. I love that he likes to pick out my panties. BUT. I forgot to wear a dress or skirt as he'd instructed; daily I'm a jeans girl, and I was distracted by the morning commitments I had to fulfill before our afternoon tryst.

I did, however, remember to grab the bag I'd packed on my way out the door. It contained my sex kit: condoms, vibrator, some all natural fancy lube, a pink suede and silk blindfold, and extra batteries (semper paratus). It also contained a deck of cards and a few choice outfits, as requested by N.

He picked me up on a busy Brooklyn corner, and we headed more deeply into the borough.

N. looked hot behind the wheel. He was in his standard button-fly jeans and a fitted striped shirt that complemented his eyes. He immediately noticed my failure to comply with the skirt/dress edict, and I was both chagrined and thrilled to think that punishment might ensue.

He squeezed my thigh and asked me to play with myself. I did, scrunching down into the seat and unzipping my jeans. I wondered about the view I offered to passing buses and trucks on Fourth Avenue.

The hotel was unremarkable, excepting that it was new, Chinese, and available hourly.

Upstairs N. instructed me to put on a dress. I did, feeling amused and slightly self-conscious. Dressing for sex is an interesting proposition. The rules and object are so different from my daily considerations. I pulled up silk seamed thigh highs, hooked on a lacy garter belt, and stepped into black four inch heels. For all of our feminist-comfortable-shoe battles won, there is nothing that feels quite as sexy to me as stepping into fuck-me pumps.

He was reclined on the bed when I emerged, rubbing his cock through his jeans. He admired me, kissing me, rubbing my cunt through the silk of the long red dress I wore over the lingerie. Then he sent me back to change into a skirt/top ensemble.

This time I emerged to cards dealt on the bed. We played black jack. I won the first few hands and had the pleasure of removing N.'s belt, then his jeans. I distinctly enjoyed his vulnerability while I was still dressed. Both fortunately and un, he soon made up the difference: standing me up to remove my skirt and blouse.

We gave up the game in our underwear, some clothes often being sexier than none, and N. flipped a coin to determine who would drive our play. I won.

I'm usually more comfortable in the submissive role, so this is largely unexplored. I asked N. to pull out his bag of tricks. He also had brought a blindfold. He looked marvelous in it, naked but for his boxer briefs, laying on his back, waiting. I straddled him, and tightened the knot at the back of his head, slipping his hands into the soft loops on the ends of the blindfold's ties.

Then he was mine. I nibbled and kissed him, enjoying his body. Taking my time to reach his cock, hard and delicious, I removed his underwear and spent some time licking and sucking him. I like the subtleties...how hard he gets, the texture and flavors of his balls, his appreciative sighs and moans.

He'd also brought a paddle, leather and hard on one side, soft and padded on the other. I asked him to stand before me with his hands on his hips. I gave him a couple of exploratory thwacks, and was rewarded by his exclamations. The leather side produced a very satisfying (and stinging-I know from experience-) slap. I didn't want to hurt him, but liked again his willingness and vulnerability. And his hard cock standing at attention wasn't bad either. I abandoned this tack, and sat on his face instead.
N. is ardent, his lips and tongue delighting me.

It wasn't long before I was near coming, and backed off- requesting the blindfold for myself.
We proceeded to fuck, long and actively. N. at one point pressing me hard into the bed, his palms pushing my chest down as he pounded into me. It was divine.

The further I go, the more I learn about myself. I like surrendering my body to his ownership- giving him my trust and receiving what he gives.

Later I changed again, this time into a tight black dress, which N. ruched up over my ass, bending me over, my hands on the windowsill. We admired the view as he fucked me... Or maybe he admired the view; I was lost in the sensations.

It all bleeds together, I know I came hard with his head between my legs. I know he asked me to play with my vibrator as he watched and snapped pictures. I know he took pictures of his cock in my mouth, and they were hot. I know in the end I rode him to orgasm, feeling his body bucking under me, his hands holding and guiding my rocking hips.

I like N.

Yesterday my husband asked me if I'd enjoyed my afternoon delight. And today N.'s wife and I will find a nice holiday gift for him. My life is strange and good.

And if you want N.'s version, you can find it here.

all kinds

N. posted this ad on Craigslist a week or so ago:

"I'm training my sub - mw4mw - 42

Date: 2011-12-12, 8:55PM EST

Reply to:

I'd like to show her a demonstration of how others practice D/s. If you are a M/F couple, and you want to show off for us, we would love to watch you. This could be a non-sexual, partly sexual, or completely sexual scene. You decide - we simply will watch and learn.

Now- we didn't get much of a response, and who knows really if we would entertain this... although I suspect the answer is yes, if the prospects were right.

Today, with a note saying, "Wanna drive to LI?" N. sent me this:

64 yr old Dom 57 yr old sub female, The Dom has a dungeon in his house and would enjoy having a couple watch, You guys can learn and join in, Who knows where it can go but possibilities are endless, We are in suf co.

Way too Pulp Fiction for both of us. And instead of making fun of these people (and the urge is strong) I just have to say, wow. I'm really glad this couple has found each other.