Lizzie's Grey Matters

New toy

2012-02-28T13:28:00.000-05:00

Just about everything I think to write today feels whiny.

So instead, I'll say, I got some new shoes. They are called Delicious, and they are. I like to wear them while being fucked. Hard. And I particularly like the idea of wearing them out, being seen in them, knowing that they are in fact a sex toy.

I worship his cock

2012-02-22T16:56:00.001-05:00

Sometimes it bugs him; we are the reversal of the joke about men talking to a woman's chest. I look at his cock, hidden in his jeans, and he says, "I'm up here!". "Yes," I say, pulling my eyes up to his and laughing. "Right."

jealousy

2012-02-22T09:45:00.002-05:00

I get jealous.

What does jealousy mean for me? It means the blinding stab of painful emotion I feel when someone (anyone!) I like/love/admire has a preference for another other than me, whether that preference is real or imagined.

When I feel it, I am faced with choices- running away has often been a viable one, close up shop and move on; get angry and sharp, lash out- sometimes this feels unavoidable; the third is clear eyed observation, let it be. There may be other choices, but those are my top three.

I aspire to the third, with mixed results. When I am centered and strong in myself, letting it be is attainable, even easy. But centered isn't a constant state.

In my marriage I have felt very little jealousy- I think this is the beneficence of my husband. He gave me his heart long ago, and has never wavered, or has never given me indication that he wavers. We go through ups and downs, don't get me wrong, and face other demons, but his heart is with me. And he's not a particularly jealous type- he leads by example.

So how to understand the jealousy I feel about others- both friends and lovers? I feel it when the attention is on another and I am no longer best/closest/dearest. I wanna be Summa, baby. It's not rational. It just is. And summa presents so many problems. I can't possibly be best/closest/dearest to everyone all the time, and truly, rationally, I wouldn't want to be. I suppose ultimately it is insecurity- and the transient dissatisfaction with what I have and what I am.

I don't have an answer, other than this:

Let it Be, Let it Be, Let it Be.

And I'm sorry when I fail.

loverly

2012-02-21T17:27:00.001-05:00

The sex is anything but mechanical. I've never been so wet, never wanted anything so badly. We leave the lights on. We use the chairs, the couch, the floor.
His hands in my pants are heaven. I feel the fabric of my dress pulling across my thigh, moving higher, exposing more skin. My legs are brown from the summer sun, and smooth and tight; the chlorine has imparted a clean dry feeling- the texture of summer.
I arch toward him, leading with my chest. He holds my hips with both hands, and I feel like the definition of womanhood.

first date

2012-02-20T22:26:00.002-05:00

He's Dominant. Capital D. I guess that makes me submissive. I've never gone there consciously, but my fantasies have featured direction like this. Tell me what to do. I'll do it. What you wish is what I want. So he does.

On our first date he requested I bring a change of clothes.
"Go change," he said, sitting close to me on a banquette, his fingers on my thigh. I wasn't finished chatting yet. I didn't know the rules.

We were in an anonymous hotel bar, Manhattan traffic trundling by below us.

We talked some more, inconsequential, flirtatious. "Will you go change already?" he said, some asperity and a fleeting note of irritation in his voice. Oh.

I got up and walked toward the bathroom- wondrous and nervous, slightly embarrassed. I locked myself in a stall, removing my jeans, my top. I left the white tank, and slipped the black eyelet dress over it. The dress is short, with a smocked waist and wide, gathered neckline, girlish. I stepped out, feeling small, delicate, and a little unsure.

His eyes drank me in as I walked toward him. I began to feel more sure.

I am an actress, I don't yet know the role. I'm me, but not me. I'm finding my way. I'm game.

We hailed a cab, climbed in. He kissed me, deep, a little fierce, establishing again his dominance. His hand between my legs, his tongue sweeping my mouth. My breath catches, and I close my eyes.

The door of the taxi opens suddenly, shockingly.

We laugh at our intruder's expression, as he scrambles to close the door, apologize. I flush. I'm surprised by my embarrassment.

The hotel is modest, anonymous, seedy.

We go upstairs. He pushes me against the wall outside our door. He tastes like cigarettes- it's not unpleasant- only different, exciting. I feel illicit.

He is ravenous, so am I. He tells me to lie down on the bed, "Don't take anything off. Play with yourself for me". I do as I am told, watching him remove his shoes, his shirt, his jeans.

He's watching me too. My hand is stretching my underwear away from my body, my fingers are pressing slow circles against my clit, dipping now and then into my cunt, which is very very slick.

He stands next to the bed, bends to kiss me deeply. My knees feel liquid, and my belly flutters and melts. His hands are on my chest, pulling my dress down. My lips feel bruised, pressed, alive.

He withdraws just a little and I yearn toward him, my hands reach for his cock, feeling him through his boxer briefs. He is hard. I lift myself on my elbows, look up, meet his eyes.

I take him into my mouth, roll him on my tongue, taste him. I lick the underside of his cock, feel his hands descend into my hair, pull me more strongly over him. I suck him, feel him fill my throat.

He strips the pillowcases off the pillows, ties my hands to the rails of the bed. My bonds are soft, loose. I could get free, but I don't.

He pushes my dress up further, pulls my underwear aside. His tongue on my clit is possessive, greedy, strong. I writhe under his attention. My hips arch to meet him. My arms are extended over my head, and I hold on, my thighs spread.

He presses his fingers into me, fucking me with his hands, his tongue, his mouth.

I come, gripping the pillowcases hard, my breath shallow and quick, my heart beating fast.

He fucks my face. My arms are still above my head, my hair fanned out on the sheets. I am dizzy.

He releases me. I climb over him, take him into me, grind my body down, envelope him. Bend to kiss him. His hands on my hips squeeze and guide. I ride him, fuck him, thrill in the sound, the sensation of my ass meeting his crotch.

He comes, holding me on him, sealing me to him.

We breathe. We smile. We're good.

This is our first date.

status update

2012-02-15T15:43:00.001-05:00

or alternately: Standing On My Own Two Feet.

N. and I are on an unlimited hiatus, and I find myself learning to navigate on my own in a new world. Does that sound dramatic? It isn't. It's just that the relationship with N. opened so many doors and possibilities and I'm suddenly faced with figuring things out for myself.

Way back when, I said he was a catalyst for me, and that still holds true... when the catalytic agent has finished working the original elements have undergone a change without the agent itself changing at all- I'd like to think that I've been important to N., but I don't think I've fundamentally changed him.

But me?

Well, let's say both N and his wife have opened up a world to me (and my husband), and it's exciting and strange and scary and good. I had never really believed that people I knew/liked/respected were actively exploring their sexuality in ways that include polyamorous relationships and maintaining a healthy marriage. Now I know that that is possible, that it's possible to want to (and to) fuck other people without it meaning the end of your marriage.

My husband and I are more communicative about our needs and desires than we have been in many years, and I am grateful. Where we will go from here is undefined, and that's fine.

And N.? I will continue to read his blog with pleasure. I will enjoy the in-person friendship we have, and I will be secretly gratified by our playfully sordid past. And I may kick his ass periodically at Scrabble. In between the spankings he will certainly give me ;-).

assignments and requests

2012-02-07T22:18:00.001-05:00

From the beginning of our relationship N. has been giving me assignments. I've never had this type of foreplay before. (Ah, iPhone, how you simplify and complicate my life at the same time).

Sometimes they're goofy (or possibly that is me) sometimes a little challenging; always they're sexy.

Examples include: writing erotic stories, reading erotica aloud and sending him the recordings, offering him a selection of my underwear or clothes to choose from, and then wearing his choice-whether we will see each other or not; sometimes it's word games- or a photo of a particular body part, other times it's more explicit- putting my fingers into my cunt and licking them, sending him a description or photo immediately thereafter.

Sometimes it's physically doing what he asks in the moment of his asking - those are particularly hot.

I've given him a few back. He usually complies instantly.

He wrote a post a few days ago, describing his relationship to giving these assignments, or requests. I was thinking I'd comment on it, but then decided I might as well just write my own.

Here's how it shakes out for me:

I love the assignments. Pleasing him pleases me.

Sometimes the request is counter to my inclination- usually it's not; sometimes it challenges me and drives me to the edge of my comfort zone- and this is good.

I do, however, want and crave acknowledgement. If too much time elapses without a response from him, I get anxious or annoyed. Too much time, by the way, is mercurial- it depends mightily on the day, mood and (dare I say it) time of the month.

Let it be known that he always responds, and usually within the day, if not the hour.

Any time I put myself in the position of seeking someone's approval I've opened myself up to failure and disappointment. Executing these assignments kinda does that: the possibility of failure exists- or the possibility of looking stupid, to myself at the very least.

On the flip side, they're fun, they stretch me, I feel pleased with myself, and aroused, when I do them, and- as I said before- pleasing N. pleases me. He's hot.

This leads me to believe that submission or surrender is more layered than I at first understood.

(Forgive me if this was obvious all along... Learning is cool.)

casual sex

2012-02-05T21:19:00.001-05:00

A story in three sentences (I missed the trifecta deadline on this one- damn Pacific time!-if you haven't already, check them out- but it was fun nonetheless):

They met in the park, drank steamed milk and chatted. The height differential being acceptable, they went upstairs. Kelly was frightened by her idiocy, so she blew him.

Pan

2012-02-04T20:03:00.002-05:00

When I was seventeen I went to a boys' house. Two of them lived there, both were dating friends of mine. I was in my senior year in high school- as yet a virgin.

There were seven of us there that night, the two pairs, two other guys, and me. We were all cute, and oh so young. We listened to music, talked, laughed, joked, felt important and grown-up. What I remember most was how easy and convivial we were together.

As the night drew on the pairs melted into the shadows of the room and I was left with the two other boys. One I knew pretty well, and the other only a little. The second was curly, and cute, and alas fell squarely into the friend category for me.

My friend and I, on the other hand, had flirted for ages, but never made out. On this night we did. We kissed for a long time, and did some pretty heavy petting. But here's where it got interesting- neither of us took any of our clothes off. There wasn't any conversation about it, it may simply have been the lack of privacy.

Our friends were audible nearby, but not fucking- we were all in that on-the-cusp place; we hadn't actually had sex yet, and tonight wasn't the night.

The curly boy took himself outside for a smoke in a dejected huff as it became clear that I didn't want him.

Weirdly, my friend, let's call him Pan, and I had been naked together before; it had been a few charged, but non-sexual evenings spent at a hot tub/sauna joint in our sleepy town. His friend worked there and sometimes we would go in a group to sit naked in the saunas after the place had closed.

I digress.

My sexual experience to this point included just about everything but intercourse...

As we made out, rolling together on pillows on the floor, we started dry humping... sex with our clothes on. With the exception of our hands and lips, no flesh was touching flesh. It was hot, and immediate, and exciting. We came simultaneously. And came up for air laughing. It was sweet, delightful, and thoroughly unexpected.

Up until then, I'd never had an orgasm with a partner. I'd let boys finger me, go down on me, sucked cock, even the coveted "69", but always stopped short- scared of the expectations of total fucking.

We never had actual sex. I love him dearly, as one loves old friends, and cherish the way we see each other, always with the green-gold glow of youth.

Today, we play Words With Friends and see each other every few years, as one passes through the other's city.

140 precisely

2012-02-04T19:47:00.002-05:00

Pure energy, building, sparkly longing; the push, pull, flow, oneness, rushing wetness, openness, fire, love, toe curling tingles and sigh.

sitting next to me on the plane

2012-02-01T14:30:00.001-05:00

Sitting next to me on the plane, she pulled off her sweater. The lace edged tank rode up her back when she bent to cram it into her bag. She is clear eyed, and smooth, and she smells good; the image of youth.
I turn to my son, preventing the juice box from falling, help him slide the window shade up. I'm grateful for adulthood.

fantasy shopping...

2012-01-29T11:32:00.004-05:00

(I admit to a little fantasy shopping of a different kind this morning in the hardware store... I was there longer than absolutely necessary)

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

I took N.'s assignment to heart, as shopping is just up my alley:
What I'd pack for a week away in a warm clime with him. It should have been everything but the set was getting a bit cluttered. I might just have to do another one. And I'll have to make one for him sometime soon.

I had a ball playing with polyvore. I imagine someone will flag me soon (turns out you can add sex toys to the sets via Amazon, but no legit sex toy stores, e.g. babeland is off limits) so if you'd like to really see the set, check it soon ;-).

But generally, it looks like this:

sex in a...

2012-01-26T10:55:00.002-05:00

For N. (as usual)

They were getting desperate. It was late, and all the hourly joints had turned them away. He'd pushed her up against half a dozen walls- his fingers demanding and her cunt obliging. His hands on her breasts were insistent and unyielding; his tongue possessive. She was soaked and beginning to whimper.

Inspiration struck. In the form of a moving truck...

It didn't take long to rent. The man in the booth swarthy and smoking, blue-lit by florecents.

They drove it out of the lot, his hand gripping her upper thigh.

They only made it a few blocks, parking on a side street.

They left the roll door cracked, minimal light illuminating the cavernous container.

The walls were hard, as was the floor, cool against her back. He straddled her head, his cock hot as it finally found it's target, the silk of her hair curtaining his fist, her mouth soft and eager.

The adventure got them thinking....

eLust #32!!

2012-01-20T13:44:00.005-05:00

It's a little complicated in my world right now, but I really appreciate having been included in this month's edition of eLust. my piece is "banana bread" xx L.

Photo courtesy of Lady Grinning Soul

Welcome to e[lust], the sex blog round-up- The best posts from the hottest and smartest sex bloggers all in one place! This edition highlights topics such as libido, fake orgasms, teenage lust, voyeurism, BDSM consent and so much more. Want to be included in e[lust] #33? Start with the rules, come back in February to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!
~ The Top Three Posts ~
Assent Matters by SherynB - Find your emotional power to recognize and say “no” to what you don’t want BEFORE you get naked and tied up and give up your actual physical power to walk away to anybody.
Forever The Night - ‘Why the hell shouldn’t I listen? This is my home, my bedroom after all’. So I do listen and I do feel myself twitch at every minute sound on the other side of that fucking wall.
Hands. Fingers. Pleasure. - This was the first time a boy's fingers had such unfettered access to my pussy. Prior gropings under and through clothes had never been like this.
~ e[lust] Editress ~
The Fake Orgasm: You think you know, but you have no idea - I am 34 and I have faked orgasms. There ya have it. But I have never and will never qualify doing so as “I did it for him”.
~ Featured Post (Picked by Lilly) ~
Sadie Says... Awake - In the haze of my missing libido I also lost myself. I began to wonder if I remembered who the hell I was?
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!
Kink & Fetish
Connection, Intimacy & Trust
DQ Earns a Pass from Chasity
Five Little Words
Naked and kinky in a busy sex shop
Sharp Tongues and Good Pain
Sexual violence
The Duke Story
'Twas the Night Before Kinky
The Pink Elephant
Who I Am
Who Are You to Change Us?
Waking You
Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships
Busy Writing
Help! My Vibrator Won't Work
Men and Visual Stimulation
Slippery and sticky and covered in lube
The Safe Zone - Giving Yourself Permission To Screw Up in Non-Monogamy
Until Death Do Us Part
Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor
Interview With Senior Sexuality Advocate Joan Price
Erotic Writing
21
A Read to Remember
Aurelia (A Dirty Kind Of Grace part 1)
A Fistful
banana bread
Christmas Day
Last night in Cap D'Adge
Later On In The Evening
Meat Hooks & Butcher's Twine
Reside
Sugarbutch Star: blckndblue, The Pink Dress
she and he and me...
Surprise Orgasm
wind

and then what happened?

2012-01-18T00:41:00.002-05:00

I'm on vacation, in a warm and beautiful place, while below freezing temperatures blanket my home city.

I'm in limbo.

My husband recently expressed his displeasure in my ongoing relationship with N., something he hadn't done before. We'd been strained around it, with me offering to share any and all aspects, him assiduously avoiding it while professing his "okay-ness". He's been saying, "do whatever it is that you need to do, but I don't want to know". So I have, and with deep pleasure. I wonder now if he thought I wouldn't really?

The last week has been a roller coaster of emotions, with some highs and some plummeting lows.

Today (or maybe officially yesterday now) N. and my husband talked for the first time since this all began. They report that it was "warm, good"- from N. and that "I'd been carrying (misplaced) anger" from my husband.

I haven't actually spoken to either of them, but am suddenly feeling excluded. Their emails were positive, but vague, and the circumstances of my day precluded talking.

And.

I've resisted actively asking for further detail because a) that doesn't feel right, and b) because I'm having the weird sensation of being chattel, and I don't like it. (yes, I recognize the irony and possible hypocrisy in taking pleasure in being someone's "fucktoy", and now objecting to object-hood).

I fully appreciate N.'s stepping back. He always said that if our relationship was impacting my marriage negatively we would stop.

I have spent a chunk of my time mourning the loss of something that has been incredibly fun, educational and gratifying for me.

And, difficult though it has been at times, in the last few days my husband and I have been in better communication than we had been for some time.

And yet, I suddenly feel like The Men Are Talking, and have taken on the right to decide whether or not my "friends with benefits" can continue.

So at serious risk of petulance, WTF?

In fairness, I appreciate the integrity and respect everyone is exhibiting, and I'm grateful.

I come back from the lands of tree frogs and pounding surf, velvety tropical air, and the undiluted pleasure of watching my son frolicking, tomorrow evening.

What happens next?

win-win

2012-01-11T12:58:00.002-05:00

It's true, I declared N. the winner of our contest. Fortunately it was a win-win endeavor. I look forward to my punishment, and his reward... I'm sure one of us will fill you in. Or maybe both...

In the meantime, he gave me an assignment a couple if days ago: expand one of his tweets beyond 140 characters. He posts bite sized bits of erotica on twitter throughout the day. Fun. I thought I'd make it a little more interesting, and chose four, working them into one narrative. N. called it awesome... Have I mentioned how awesome he is? I put his original tweets in bold.

He put part one on his blog this morning, and below please find:

"Twitter fed porn fantasy, part two"

His eyes wandered out the window and she followed his gaze to the construction site across the street. There was commotion, and a couple of fire trucks, lights flashing, we're just arriving.

He raised his eyebrows, and cocked his head toward the scene outside. "You're going to fuck one of those guys. But first, go into the bathroom and take off everything but your coat. Everything. Please."
Her eyes lit up. And she liked that he always said please.

She felt a little bereft as his hand withdrew, but slid out of the booth, pressing her bottom against his cock as she went. He grinned and swatted her butt hard enough to draw a look from the table nearby. He watched her saunter toward the bathroom, her coat draped over her arm, her skirt clinging to her heart shaped ass.

When she emerged they stepped out into the grey winter light.

It was COLD. Her nipples rubbed painfully against her coat. No one could tell she was wearing nothing else.

They surveyed the scene. Construction workers loitered on the sidewalk, their work suspended. Firemen, suspenders hanging from their hips, stood in clusters.

She eyed the crowd, and quickly zeroed in on a couple of possibilities. The first was from the construction crew. He was beautiful: olive complected, dark eyed and a little too soulful looking for the urban laborer racket. The second was a fireman, with russet hair, big arms, and a Bronx accent they could hear from across the street.

They dithered on the corner, debating. They couldn't decide which would be the lucky guy: the firefighter or the construction worker. So they chose both.

The men turned from their conversation to look at her as she approached. She felt their eyes travel over her, and a little jolt of electricity shot from her groin to her breasts.

"I'm locked out," she said. "Maybe you guys can help me out?"

"I got this," the fireman said, his voice hard, and his eyes moving from her mouth to her chest and back.

"actually, I think it's going to be a two man job..." she licked her lips.

glass half full

2012-01-09T21:43:00.001-05:00

Sometimes it's a grind. Just living, and doing and making it through a day.

And then you get this in the mail:

and you can't help being optimistic about, oh, everything.

I'm helping to plan a birthday party for a girlfriend. Her husband sent me this photo, along with some music, as inspiration. Have I mentioned yet how much I love my friends? I love them. The theme is Brazil... a nice thing to contemplate in the depths of winter.

In other news, N. continues to kick my ass, as predicted, in our contest. I am looking forward to his punishment (which perhaps will simultaneously be his reward). He got a sweet shout out from fleshbot last week, who published a very hot piece he'd written. It gave us both a bump, his much bigger than mine, but still, it's a thrill to see our numbers rising.

"grind" "bump" "rising" I'm Beavis, really, or maybe "Butthead" ... Heh heh, Huh huh.

i like men

2012-01-07T12:39:00.000-05:00

I do. Guys are great. They smell good. They're fun. They're funny. They're bawdy and brawny and big. There is such pleasing linear simplicity to most of them. This is not to say that women aren't all of these things, because they are, obviously.

Women are beautiful. I love to look at them. And I'm not at all adverse to making out with women, but when I fantasize, it's always men.

Unless it's a particular type of dyke...

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

Not long ago I spent an afternoon- oh, let's be honest- a day- in the company of six girlfriends at a spa. We call it the Naked Spa. I can sit in the tubs for hours, watching. Women of all nationalities, ages, and sizes wander through, nude, with the express purpose of being IN their bodies. And it's just fine to look.

It was quiet when we got there but women trickled in as the day deepened.

My attention was taken by a party of three. The first was nymph-like: long, wavy, strawberry blond hair, a petite frame with a heart shaped ass, small waist, and high small breasts. An intricate vine of tattoos spiraled around her torso.
The second was medium everything, an ordinary girl, easy on the eyes, with an undefined tattoo on the side of her throat, and something similarly non-descript on the small of her back.

It was the third, however, that I couldn't take my eyes off of. She was luscious. She had a classically "womanly" body: full natural breasts, slender waist, firm solid ass, and strong shoulders. She was beautiful. Short brown hair, and so very very gay. I was compelled by her in precisely the same way that I am by a man who attracts me. Every time I looked at her I imagined her fucking me. Not me fucking her, but her fucking me.

I was alone in the sauna when she entered. I was on my back, watching the sweat pool in my bellybutton, wondering about the healing properties of salt; it was stacked in rosy bricks in the corner near the brazier.

She spread out her towel at my feet and sat down a little awkwardly. I wondered if she'd been to a spa before- she seemed just a little green, or out of her element. She was just a scoshe too close to me but didn't seem to realize it. And then she did. She stood up and adjusted the towel, laying down on her back with her head pointed away from me, and her knees bent. Her toes brushed mine.
"Sorry" she mumbled, moving away. Her touch was electric, and caught me by surprise. I deliberately let my toes bump into hers in response. Glancing up to appreciate the view of her legs spread in front of me, I left my my foot in contact with hers. She returned the pressure and sighed audibly. I stretched my leg a little, deepening our contact, savoring the tingle growing in my belly, the prickle of sweat that laced my palms and had nothing to do with the pre-existing heat in the room. I prayed that no one opened the door.

Her foot pushed gently between my legs, covering my cunt completely, with a solid delicious contact. She held herself there and I breathed, saying nothing.

In a few minutes she withdrew, pulling the towel up with her. She bent and kissed me: a deep, lingering kiss, smiled wolfishly, and was gone.

clit-hickey?

2012-01-07T11:51:00.003-05:00

Is it possible to get a hickey on your clit? A Clickey?

feeling groovy

2012-01-05T21:52:00.000-05:00

I'm enjoying things these days... It feels like the world is ripe with possibility. I think opening the door (and my legs, *smirk*) to the friendship with N. has made me open up to other people in a healthy way.

totally dug the hotel- kitsch and art all mangled up together.

And yes, I did in fact ask for mercy after the last of maybe, what four? orgasms his most persistent and generous mouth provided this afternoon.. Maybe I'm just feeling satisfied.

(I didn't beg, though, just saying)

p.s.- writing tweetable erotica is fun- whether you tweet it or not. 140 characters. It's a little like writing haikus. Try it.

140, part ii

2012-01-04T11:55:00.000-05:00

The audition went badly, but his cock was marvelous.

140

2012-01-04T11:50:00.002-05:00

I pulled him out of my mouth; long strings of spit glistened in the air before falling on my thigh. Then I swallowed him again.

roped in

2012-01-03T23:18:00.003-05:00

N. proposes a contest, which is just like him. He wants us to compete for blog stats. I'm not sure I'm in yet. Let's just say that N.'s mind is analytic (analytical?) to begin with, plus he has more time and experience... the deck is stacked. Of course both bestowing the prizes and dealing the punishment may be equally worth the game, whether or not my pride gets stung in the process.
I haven't been actively courting followers, have neither tweeted nor tumblred, nor yet spent much time exploring/commenting on other blogs- although some of you have certainly made me think and definitely turned me on.

So what say you? Good idea? And what about the prizes?.... I DO like prizes.

my fantasies

2011-12-30T17:08:00.002-05:00

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

2011-12-28T09:37:00.002-05:00

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;

2011-12-26T15:15:00.001-05:00

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

2011-12-26T13:49:00.000-05:00

"Within boundaries creativity abounds"

Quote of the day from random cute yoga teacher.

comparison

2011-12-23T11:02:00.002-05:00

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,

2011-12-20T17:34:00.001-05:00

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

2011-12-19T16:26:00.005-05:00

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

2011-12-19T10:13:00.001-05:00

"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

2011-12-18T09:43:00.000-05:00

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

2011-12-17T13:30:00.007-05:00

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

2011-12-17T11:29:00.014-05:00

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.