I don't know if there is a committee somewhere that declares these things, but if there is, I want to be on it.
Tomorrow starts Masturbation Month, a celebration of self-love, I wonder if Kleenex has explored sponsorship possibilities, there is money to be made.
I, for one, am going to play along. My goal will be simple, an orgasm every day. That's not a big deal for many, for some of my friends that would practically be abstinence, but I've been in a bit of a gratification funk as of late and it's time to ramp things back up. We talk about TMI, so maybe this is it, but I want to get back to the basics, to claim what's mine, to take that extra long shower, to lock the bedroom door, to "Be all that I can be."
If I get lucky enough for sex, than that counts, it's an orgasm a day, it is taking time for pleasure and making sure that I am getting enough of it. Priorities can come and go, we are busy, distracted, we let little things like sleep and eating get in the way of what is important.
But what gets you going? Like many men, I wake up hard and happy, swollen with the joy of a new day. Is that enough, or do you need something more?
I would love to hear from men and women in the comments about what swings the mood the right direction.
Do you look at porn? Tumblr? Twitter?
Do you think of someone specific?
Do you know them in real life?
Do you have a physical relationship with them?
Are you reliving memories or creating fantasies?
Are your thoughts about the taboo (gay, rape, BDSM, incest) or vanilla?
Do celebrities turn you on or do you fantasize about real people?
Do you think of me?
What turns you on when you are alone and letting your mind wander?
Inquiring minds want to know.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Sunday Sacrilege
I just had to use this, I don't even know what I'm going to say about it, but I HAD TO SHARE THIS!!!
The snake curls around me and whispers in my ear.
Go ahead, it hisses, taste the fruit
Bite the apple.
And I laugh,
Knowing that I had apple pie the night before.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Mystery Mood Swings
We all talk about getting caught, about making decision, Luna Moon talked about it, everyone talks about it.
We've lost several important bloggers in the past few weeks, and "getting caught" is always high on the list of suspected reasons, thought I don't know anything for sure.
What triggers it? What gives us away?
For me, because my blog is the only real evidence, since most of my indiscretions are on-line, it's going to be the MMS, or Mystery Mood Swing.
Take today for example....
I have been playing with a friend, and, after some flirty back and forth, she went silent, for two days. Now, in Internet-time, that's like, what, a month? It bothered me, I thought we were having fun, our time zones aligned well enough (I know when bedtime in Europe is, I expect you to go to sleep eventually), her husband was gone, the kids were asleep. It shouldn't have bugged me, but it did. So here's the thing, it put me in a funk. It wasn't a bad day before this, so about an hour after I realize she's not coming back, my wife asks me, "What put you in such a crappy mood?"
"Well, this woman I was undressing and getting ready to cyber-bang just up and left!" I can't really say that now, can I? So I have to come up with a lie, not about being caught, but about the MMS. It is especially difficult for me, now that I'm home all day, to blame work, friends, bad traffic, or my awful boss. I always had a built in reason to be in a bad mood, no explanation required. All I had say was, "Traffic" and all was forgiven.
I don't have those excuses anymore.
So what do I do? I internalize, I keep it in like all the other emotional ups and downs and times when I had to bite my tongue and move on. Some days it goes the other way.
I met up with a friend the other day on Skype and the 1st thing she asked was, "How much weight have you lost?" It made my day! it was better than her answering the phone naked with Stoya nibbling at her nipple (well.... maybe not, but, you get the point). So, this wonderful compliment put me in a great mood and I had no way to explain it. I had been home all day, so I had to wait until the next day to exclaim! "Hey, a friend noticed that I had lost some weight and it was sooo cool and....."
You get the picture. The Mystery Mood Swing can pump me up or bring me down, but I have to be be really careful with the "What? But you were so horny this morning......"
It has been very few times when my on-line play has taken away from in-person play, since that only happens 2-3 times a month, on good months, so, if I think anything is going to happen at home, I plan carefully, let's just say that some days I'm the giver, sometimes a taker, but it's all about keeping things on a steady keel at home. Avoid complications and breaks from the norm, or, if my on-play time was enough for one day, just keep her up late catching up with Desperate Housewives and offer to do the dishes while she gets in to bed. Works every time, and I'll be ready for the next time.
Right?
We've lost several important bloggers in the past few weeks, and "getting caught" is always high on the list of suspected reasons, thought I don't know anything for sure.
What triggers it? What gives us away?
For me, because my blog is the only real evidence, since most of my indiscretions are on-line, it's going to be the MMS, or Mystery Mood Swing.
Take today for example....
I have been playing with a friend, and, after some flirty back and forth, she went silent, for two days. Now, in Internet-time, that's like, what, a month? It bothered me, I thought we were having fun, our time zones aligned well enough (I know when bedtime in Europe is, I expect you to go to sleep eventually), her husband was gone, the kids were asleep. It shouldn't have bugged me, but it did. So here's the thing, it put me in a funk. It wasn't a bad day before this, so about an hour after I realize she's not coming back, my wife asks me, "What put you in such a crappy mood?"
"Well, this woman I was undressing and getting ready to cyber-bang just up and left!" I can't really say that now, can I? So I have to come up with a lie, not about being caught, but about the MMS. It is especially difficult for me, now that I'm home all day, to blame work, friends, bad traffic, or my awful boss. I always had a built in reason to be in a bad mood, no explanation required. All I had say was, "Traffic" and all was forgiven.
I don't have those excuses anymore.
So what do I do? I internalize, I keep it in like all the other emotional ups and downs and times when I had to bite my tongue and move on. Some days it goes the other way.
I met up with a friend the other day on Skype and the 1st thing she asked was, "How much weight have you lost?" It made my day! it was better than her answering the phone naked with Stoya nibbling at her nipple (well.... maybe not, but, you get the point). So, this wonderful compliment put me in a great mood and I had no way to explain it. I had been home all day, so I had to wait until the next day to exclaim! "Hey, a friend noticed that I had lost some weight and it was sooo cool and....."
You get the picture. The Mystery Mood Swing can pump me up or bring me down, but I have to be be really careful with the "What? But you were so horny this morning......"
It has been very few times when my on-line play has taken away from in-person play, since that only happens 2-3 times a month, on good months, so, if I think anything is going to happen at home, I plan carefully, let's just say that some days I'm the giver, sometimes a taker, but it's all about keeping things on a steady keel at home. Avoid complications and breaks from the norm, or, if my on-play time was enough for one day, just keep her up late catching up with Desperate Housewives and offer to do the dishes while she gets in to bed. Works every time, and I'll be ready for the next time.
Right?
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Drown them Both
I just finished watching "The Squid and the Whale." About 5 minutes in to it I wanted to reach through my computer screen and strangle both parents, to drown them both in the sea of pain they inflict on their two boys.
The writing is amazing as the writer, Noah Baumbach, recounts his childhood as his parents divorced. He captures this absurd dialog between two horrible people, it's laced with cutting anger, the stench of failure, and it's just so fucking mean. The husband, played by Jeff Daniels, is such a total ass that you want him to not only get hit by the car at the end, but to be run over by it repeatedly. Laura Linney comes out of it a little better as the philandering wife, but this is not a movie about nice people in a bad spot. It's about horrible people so caught up in the own vacuity that they decimate their children with out batting an eye.
DO NOT WATCH THIS if your marriage is in trouble, if your kids hate you, if you play tennis, teach college, read/write/enjoy literature, if you like Pink Floyd, sleeping in your own home, or veal cutlets.
It was fantastic in what it set out to do, if that goal was to make you itchy and depressed. Or, maybe it's just his way of making us all feel better about our own marriages, no matter how screwed up they are. If that was his goal, he reached it.
So, give me your suggestions on what movies I should watch at the library when I should be finding a job.
:-)
The writing is amazing as the writer, Noah Baumbach, recounts his childhood as his parents divorced. He captures this absurd dialog between two horrible people, it's laced with cutting anger, the stench of failure, and it's just so fucking mean. The husband, played by Jeff Daniels, is such a total ass that you want him to not only get hit by the car at the end, but to be run over by it repeatedly. Laura Linney comes out of it a little better as the philandering wife, but this is not a movie about nice people in a bad spot. It's about horrible people so caught up in the own vacuity that they decimate their children with out batting an eye.
DO NOT WATCH THIS if your marriage is in trouble, if your kids hate you, if you play tennis, teach college, read/write/enjoy literature, if you like Pink Floyd, sleeping in your own home, or veal cutlets.
It was fantastic in what it set out to do, if that goal was to make you itchy and depressed. Or, maybe it's just his way of making us all feel better about our own marriages, no matter how screwed up they are. If that was his goal, he reached it.
So, give me your suggestions on what movies I should watch at the library when I should be finding a job.
:-)
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Object of desire
I think I have been objectified for too long...and thusly...rendered inanimate.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Come here slut!”
“My name is….SMACK!”
The back of his hand drove the soft flesh of her mouth into the sharp edges of her teeth and drew blood, again. How did he do that without ever leaving a bruise? Fuck, it hurt. She caressed her cheek and swallowed away the copper taste and gathered her composure.
“Yes Sir.”
His play was rough, it always was, but under his hand, with his pain, she came, and came again, so the sting in her cheek faded and was replaced by the warm glow of servitude, security, and ownership. Exhausted, dripping, tossed in the corner, limbs akimbo, she heard the apartment door close behind him as she fell asleep, wondering if she should get the cut in her mouth looked at in the morning. The factory nurse could look at it and be discrete, without asking too many questions.
Her morning e-mail was waiting for her when she awoke and she dressed accordingly. The corset cinched a notch too tight, her heels an inch too tall, especially for work, but he liked toying with her, and she didn’t mind, really.
Ba-dip! Her phone chimed from inside her purse and she glanced at the floor manager sitting across the desk from her. She knew she had only 5 minutes to respond to the text, and Franklin never talked for less than 20, and he had just barely sat down with his latest complaint about his union rep. She listened with only half her brain as her tongue ran over the strange scar at had formed overnight where she cut her cheek. It felt hard and smooth, and she definitely thought about calling for an appointment.
“Franklin,” she interrupted, feeling the tick-tock of the 5-minute countdown growing louder in her head, “I know Janice drives you crazy, but I have to tell you that we have our monthly meeting with the union next Tuesday. Can this wait until then?”
“Well, the crap they are pulling is bullshit and now it’s a safety issue and….”
The clock in her head stood at 1:10 and counting down. “Franklin. Put you notes together and be ready for Tuesday, we’ll work it out, but right now I have to use the bathroom and you’ve got window frames to finish.”
He stood and shook her hand, :58, :57, :56…..she reached in to her purse for her phone. “Really Franklin, you have to go ‘cause I have to go.” :48, :47, :46….
She kept a hold of his hand and walked out in to the hallway with him to get him moving. Once he was on his way, she scurried around the corner and slipped in to the private, handicapped bathroom and flipped open her phone.
“Left nipple, HARD. I must see the mark.”
With only seconds left she pulled up her blouse and bra in a single motion and crushed her already tender nipple between the thumb and 1st finger joint of her right hand. Aaaiiigh. A tear came to her eye and she felt it run down her cheek. While the nub was still purple she snapped a picture and sent it with just seconds to spare.
“Oh shit.” She looked at her phone with frustration. His text arrived at 9:57, her outgoing text said 10:03. She was late. DAMN YOU Franklin.
Knowing what was inevitable; she switched the camera to other hand and inflicted her punishment, snapped a picture, and waited. While she waited she washed her face and waited more, absent-mindedly soothing the hardening flesh through the fabric of her thin bra and soft cotton blouse. They felt harder than usual, but at least the sensation was dying down.
Her phone vibrated in her hand and she took a shaky deep breath and looked down.
“What are you?”
“A slut” she wrote back
“What?”
“Your slut.”
“That’s right Doll.” The small electronic words cut deep but she hoped for three more. It buzzed again. “You may cum.” Those weren’t the three words she was hoping for.
Her orgasm hit her hard and fast and she gasped and smiled and enjoyed the cool bathroom tile against her back.
When she got back to her desk she felt dizzy with pleasure, so much so that her fingers were still clumsy as she dialed Janice’s number. They made a quite tapping sound on the keys and she thought that it was probably time for a manicure.
Janice was fine after a long talk about the union’s typical beefs, but even with that fire put out and an e-mail sent to Franklin, she didn’t feel any better. In fact, she felt disjointed and decided to visit the nurse. She got to the on-site clinic, signed-in, and waited. She did a lot of that lately. Waited for instructions, for praise, for pleasure, for permission. She was good at it now.
Ba-Dip.
“Take them off.”
Shit. She wasn’t expecting the nurse to be that thorough for a general visit and a strange mouth canker, but she’d rather have kept her panties on for the exam. She asked the desk clerk for the key and he said that it was missing, but that he’d keep an eye on the door for her. She hesitated, but the next nearest bathroom as upstairs and across the storage room and she didn’t want to miss her name if they called her in.
OK, thanks, she said, and she walked past his messy desk and felt his eyes on her ass.
She rounded the corner and stopped through, closing the door behind her and lifted her skirt when she heard the door open.
“I’m IN HERE!” She called out.
“I know.” It was the desk clerk at his leering worst.
“WTF? Get out! “
“Check your e-mail.”
“Oh FUCK, what game was he playing? How had he gotten the timing so right?” The words of the text sizzled in her head, “He has permission to touch you. – Master”
She fought back the shame and turned herself to the mirror and then closed her eyes. His clammy hands were shaking and she just knew he was hard under his hospital issued scrubs. She hoped that he lost control and soiled the light blue fabric, so she spread her legs a little further than necessary.
He pulled her panties down to the floor and then stood too close behind and she smelled the tobacco and cheap beer on his breath. She shuddered and closed her eyes tightly as his hand slowly moved between her thighs. She pressed back in to him, calling his bluff, but instead of pulling back, he cupped her pussy lips and tried to slip a finger inside. She retched and arched her back and pressed harder into his hands, ashamed of the wetness he found. With his first touch, he gasped, came, and cried out in shock. Suddenly, his shame took over and he ran from the small bathroom, the obvious wet spot spreading down his upper thigh.
Ba-dip.
“Did he?”
“Yes”, she tapped back.
“Good little slut. I like sharing you with others.” He texted back quickly as she washed herself as best as she could with the rough paper towels, her skin feeling strange under her own touch.
She straightened her dress and walked out and saw that his desk was empty. She smiled at his ultimate humiliation.
The nurse called her in and began the examination with the usual routine, commenting that her blood pressure was low and that she felt cool to the touch. Her temperature was down a couple of degrees as well. “Odd,” the nurse said, “but not worrisome by itself.”
The nurse looked in her mouth and commented that the scar tissue was oddly smooth and asked how it happened. She lied about playing volleyball at a church social and getting hit which didn’t fool anyone.
“I want to do a full exam,” the pretty nurse said, “It’s for your own good.”
I don’t think that’s necessary. She protested.
“But I do. Take off your blouse and your corset.”
“Why didn’t anyone listen to her anymore?” She undressed and noted the delicate click of her fingertips on the vintage bone buttons. They sounded girlish.
She slipped off her blouse noting where the corset left marks in her skin. The exam began. The nurse looked over her skin, her throat, neck, chest, and breasts, spending an inordinate amount of time on her nipples, and then looked at her back.
“When did your skin start to change?” the Nurse asked.
“I don’t know what you mean.” She replied with a sigh. Fearful of what came next.
“It’s very smooth, and not in the right way, your pores are missing. And the scar tissue in your mouth is unusual. It’s worth keeping an eye on.”
She tried to say something but was ignored as the nurse stood and pulled out the metal stands.
“Into the stirrups please.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, and besides, I’m the nurse, your just a collection of parts to me, it’s not like I’m getting off looking at your hoo-haw.”
They looked at each other and she knew that the words were complete and total lies.
She laid back, spread her legs, and put her hoo-haw on display.
“W…T….F….?” the nurse whispered.
What’s wrong? She could feel the nurse touching her lips, pressing, caressing, but there was little sensation besides pressure.
A speculum appeared from the drawer below the table and she felt it slide in with much difficulty. The nurse continued to make odd noises of surprise, until she pulled herself up from between the open knees, and stated that it was beyond her role as plant nurse and said that she should see a specialist.
“WHAT’S WRONG?” She demanded, now nervous and on the edge of scared.
“I have no idea,” the nurse said, “it appears that your vaginal lips have merged together, simplified themselves. You wax regularly, right?”
“Well, yes, but not for a week or two.”
“You are perfectly smooth down there, perfectly smooth.”
“I said I wax. “
“No, it’s perfectly smooth, not a follicle, razor bump, or ingrown hair.” The nurse shivered and stood up. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Well, you were just…..”
“Don’t be upset, but while I was doing the exam I was touching your clit and you didn’t react at all.”
“oh”
“I want you to go see Dr. Andrews tomorrow.”
“But Andrews is a head-shrinker.”
“I know.” She turned to leave, “By the way, how does your boyfriend treat you?”
A frown crossed her face but then she smiled, “Oh, I’m his baby doll.”
“Really?” And she left.
The drive home was quiet as she worried. He called out to her as the garage door closed behind her.
“KNEEL!”
“Oh fuck”, he was in one of his moods.
She stepped out of her shoes and prepared herself.
When he was done with her she asked permission to shower and fix dinner. He granted her request.
The hot water stung at first but then she adjusted and it faded to the background. As she washed, her anus stung under her soapy hand, but then, that pain faded too and she smiled at the smooth firm skin of her ass. She spread and soothed the soft lips of her vagina and yes, it was perfectly smooth, but so abused at the moment that she could barely feel them. There had been so many sore spots these past months, hand shaped bruises, pinches, slaps, punishments and rewards, some were on her skin, others on her heart. But each one was soothed under her soapy hands, but tonight she distant from herself.
Her nipples had stayed un-naturally hard and her skin felt strange under her hand, and when she went deep between her thighs she felt tight and resistant, a reaction to his pounding, she supposed, so she let it go, barely admitting to herself that she hadn’t cum once during his session.
“What are you?” He called out his question from the living room, not even bothering to get off the couch.
“A slut,” she shouted back, then corrected herself quickly, “your slut.”
“What are you to me?”
“Your toy.”
“Who owns you?”
“You do. Do with me what you will.” And he did, night after night.
It was well rehearsed ritual. She dried, then dropped her towel and stepped into the living room and posed before him.
“Permission to go to bed Sir?”
“Granted.” He said as she bent forward, barely registering as he kissed her on the head, “Do something about your hair, it feels strange.”
“Yes sir.”
She looked at herself in the full-length mirror before turning off the lights. Smooth skin, perfectly firm breasts, rigid nipples, a hairless cunt, a smiling mouth, flawless hair, all shaped for his use. Months in the making, she began to realize she had become just what he always wanted.
She laid in bed, barely feeling the silk on her skin. Unable to sleep, not wanting sleep, she pulled her laptop over and brought up her on-line profile. It was time to change her alias to something more fitting her role; something that reflected just what she had become.
“Barbie3634 your changes have been saved. Will this change be permanent?”
She wept, and clicked “YES”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“My name is….SMACK!”
The back of his hand drove the soft flesh of her mouth into the sharp edges of her teeth and drew blood, again. How did he do that without ever leaving a bruise? Fuck, it hurt. She caressed her cheek and swallowed away the copper taste and gathered her composure.
“Yes Sir.”
His play was rough, it always was, but under his hand, with his pain, she came, and came again, so the sting in her cheek faded and was replaced by the warm glow of servitude, security, and ownership. Exhausted, dripping, tossed in the corner, limbs akimbo, she heard the apartment door close behind him as she fell asleep, wondering if she should get the cut in her mouth looked at in the morning. The factory nurse could look at it and be discrete, without asking too many questions.
Her morning e-mail was waiting for her when she awoke and she dressed accordingly. The corset cinched a notch too tight, her heels an inch too tall, especially for work, but he liked toying with her, and she didn’t mind, really.
Ba-dip! Her phone chimed from inside her purse and she glanced at the floor manager sitting across the desk from her. She knew she had only 5 minutes to respond to the text, and Franklin never talked for less than 20, and he had just barely sat down with his latest complaint about his union rep. She listened with only half her brain as her tongue ran over the strange scar at had formed overnight where she cut her cheek. It felt hard and smooth, and she definitely thought about calling for an appointment.
“Franklin,” she interrupted, feeling the tick-tock of the 5-minute countdown growing louder in her head, “I know Janice drives you crazy, but I have to tell you that we have our monthly meeting with the union next Tuesday. Can this wait until then?”
“Well, the crap they are pulling is bullshit and now it’s a safety issue and….”
The clock in her head stood at 1:10 and counting down. “Franklin. Put you notes together and be ready for Tuesday, we’ll work it out, but right now I have to use the bathroom and you’ve got window frames to finish.”
He stood and shook her hand, :58, :57, :56…..she reached in to her purse for her phone. “Really Franklin, you have to go ‘cause I have to go.” :48, :47, :46….
She kept a hold of his hand and walked out in to the hallway with him to get him moving. Once he was on his way, she scurried around the corner and slipped in to the private, handicapped bathroom and flipped open her phone.
“Left nipple, HARD. I must see the mark.”
With only seconds left she pulled up her blouse and bra in a single motion and crushed her already tender nipple between the thumb and 1st finger joint of her right hand. Aaaiiigh. A tear came to her eye and she felt it run down her cheek. While the nub was still purple she snapped a picture and sent it with just seconds to spare.
“Oh shit.” She looked at her phone with frustration. His text arrived at 9:57, her outgoing text said 10:03. She was late. DAMN YOU Franklin.
Knowing what was inevitable; she switched the camera to other hand and inflicted her punishment, snapped a picture, and waited. While she waited she washed her face and waited more, absent-mindedly soothing the hardening flesh through the fabric of her thin bra and soft cotton blouse. They felt harder than usual, but at least the sensation was dying down.
Her phone vibrated in her hand and she took a shaky deep breath and looked down.
“What are you?”
“A slut” she wrote back
“What?”
“Your slut.”
“That’s right Doll.” The small electronic words cut deep but she hoped for three more. It buzzed again. “You may cum.” Those weren’t the three words she was hoping for.
Her orgasm hit her hard and fast and she gasped and smiled and enjoyed the cool bathroom tile against her back.
When she got back to her desk she felt dizzy with pleasure, so much so that her fingers were still clumsy as she dialed Janice’s number. They made a quite tapping sound on the keys and she thought that it was probably time for a manicure.
Janice was fine after a long talk about the union’s typical beefs, but even with that fire put out and an e-mail sent to Franklin, she didn’t feel any better. In fact, she felt disjointed and decided to visit the nurse. She got to the on-site clinic, signed-in, and waited. She did a lot of that lately. Waited for instructions, for praise, for pleasure, for permission. She was good at it now.
Ba-Dip.
“Take them off.”
Shit. She wasn’t expecting the nurse to be that thorough for a general visit and a strange mouth canker, but she’d rather have kept her panties on for the exam. She asked the desk clerk for the key and he said that it was missing, but that he’d keep an eye on the door for her. She hesitated, but the next nearest bathroom as upstairs and across the storage room and she didn’t want to miss her name if they called her in.
OK, thanks, she said, and she walked past his messy desk and felt his eyes on her ass.
She rounded the corner and stopped through, closing the door behind her and lifted her skirt when she heard the door open.
“I’m IN HERE!” She called out.
“I know.” It was the desk clerk at his leering worst.
“WTF? Get out! “
“Check your e-mail.”
“Oh FUCK, what game was he playing? How had he gotten the timing so right?” The words of the text sizzled in her head, “He has permission to touch you. – Master”
She fought back the shame and turned herself to the mirror and then closed her eyes. His clammy hands were shaking and she just knew he was hard under his hospital issued scrubs. She hoped that he lost control and soiled the light blue fabric, so she spread her legs a little further than necessary.
He pulled her panties down to the floor and then stood too close behind and she smelled the tobacco and cheap beer on his breath. She shuddered and closed her eyes tightly as his hand slowly moved between her thighs. She pressed back in to him, calling his bluff, but instead of pulling back, he cupped her pussy lips and tried to slip a finger inside. She retched and arched her back and pressed harder into his hands, ashamed of the wetness he found. With his first touch, he gasped, came, and cried out in shock. Suddenly, his shame took over and he ran from the small bathroom, the obvious wet spot spreading down his upper thigh.
Ba-dip.
“Did he?”
“Yes”, she tapped back.
“Good little slut. I like sharing you with others.” He texted back quickly as she washed herself as best as she could with the rough paper towels, her skin feeling strange under her own touch.
She straightened her dress and walked out and saw that his desk was empty. She smiled at his ultimate humiliation.
The nurse called her in and began the examination with the usual routine, commenting that her blood pressure was low and that she felt cool to the touch. Her temperature was down a couple of degrees as well. “Odd,” the nurse said, “but not worrisome by itself.”
The nurse looked in her mouth and commented that the scar tissue was oddly smooth and asked how it happened. She lied about playing volleyball at a church social and getting hit which didn’t fool anyone.
“I want to do a full exam,” the pretty nurse said, “It’s for your own good.”
I don’t think that’s necessary. She protested.
“But I do. Take off your blouse and your corset.”
“Why didn’t anyone listen to her anymore?” She undressed and noted the delicate click of her fingertips on the vintage bone buttons. They sounded girlish.
She slipped off her blouse noting where the corset left marks in her skin. The exam began. The nurse looked over her skin, her throat, neck, chest, and breasts, spending an inordinate amount of time on her nipples, and then looked at her back.
“When did your skin start to change?” the Nurse asked.
“I don’t know what you mean.” She replied with a sigh. Fearful of what came next.
“It’s very smooth, and not in the right way, your pores are missing. And the scar tissue in your mouth is unusual. It’s worth keeping an eye on.”
She tried to say something but was ignored as the nurse stood and pulled out the metal stands.
“Into the stirrups please.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, and besides, I’m the nurse, your just a collection of parts to me, it’s not like I’m getting off looking at your hoo-haw.”
They looked at each other and she knew that the words were complete and total lies.
She laid back, spread her legs, and put her hoo-haw on display.
“W…T….F….?” the nurse whispered.
What’s wrong? She could feel the nurse touching her lips, pressing, caressing, but there was little sensation besides pressure.
A speculum appeared from the drawer below the table and she felt it slide in with much difficulty. The nurse continued to make odd noises of surprise, until she pulled herself up from between the open knees, and stated that it was beyond her role as plant nurse and said that she should see a specialist.
“WHAT’S WRONG?” She demanded, now nervous and on the edge of scared.
“I have no idea,” the nurse said, “it appears that your vaginal lips have merged together, simplified themselves. You wax regularly, right?”
“Well, yes, but not for a week or two.”
“You are perfectly smooth down there, perfectly smooth.”
“I said I wax. “
“No, it’s perfectly smooth, not a follicle, razor bump, or ingrown hair.” The nurse shivered and stood up. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Well, you were just…..”
“Don’t be upset, but while I was doing the exam I was touching your clit and you didn’t react at all.”
“oh”
“I want you to go see Dr. Andrews tomorrow.”
“But Andrews is a head-shrinker.”
“I know.” She turned to leave, “By the way, how does your boyfriend treat you?”
A frown crossed her face but then she smiled, “Oh, I’m his baby doll.”
“Really?” And she left.
The drive home was quiet as she worried. He called out to her as the garage door closed behind her.
“KNEEL!”
“Oh fuck”, he was in one of his moods.
She stepped out of her shoes and prepared herself.
When he was done with her she asked permission to shower and fix dinner. He granted her request.
The hot water stung at first but then she adjusted and it faded to the background. As she washed, her anus stung under her soapy hand, but then, that pain faded too and she smiled at the smooth firm skin of her ass. She spread and soothed the soft lips of her vagina and yes, it was perfectly smooth, but so abused at the moment that she could barely feel them. There had been so many sore spots these past months, hand shaped bruises, pinches, slaps, punishments and rewards, some were on her skin, others on her heart. But each one was soothed under her soapy hands, but tonight she distant from herself.
Her nipples had stayed un-naturally hard and her skin felt strange under her hand, and when she went deep between her thighs she felt tight and resistant, a reaction to his pounding, she supposed, so she let it go, barely admitting to herself that she hadn’t cum once during his session.
“What are you?” He called out his question from the living room, not even bothering to get off the couch.
“A slut,” she shouted back, then corrected herself quickly, “your slut.”
“What are you to me?”
“Your toy.”
“Who owns you?”
“You do. Do with me what you will.” And he did, night after night.
It was well rehearsed ritual. She dried, then dropped her towel and stepped into the living room and posed before him.
“Permission to go to bed Sir?”
“Granted.” He said as she bent forward, barely registering as he kissed her on the head, “Do something about your hair, it feels strange.”
“Yes sir.”
She looked at herself in the full-length mirror before turning off the lights. Smooth skin, perfectly firm breasts, rigid nipples, a hairless cunt, a smiling mouth, flawless hair, all shaped for his use. Months in the making, she began to realize she had become just what he always wanted.
She laid in bed, barely feeling the silk on her skin. Unable to sleep, not wanting sleep, she pulled her laptop over and brought up her on-line profile. It was time to change her alias to something more fitting her role; something that reflected just what she had become.
“Barbie3634 your changes have been saved. Will this change be permanent?”
She wept, and clicked “YES”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A longer piece, written for a woman who went beyond "friend" almost the minute we met. A friend I worry about, care for, fret over, and contemplate on a regular basis.
This is for her, inspired by her, and I hope, worthy of her.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Monday night success - for those who know
It was very very good.
Kneeling up in bed, kissing, touching full access to each other's bodies.
A toy, a touch, a climax, then my turn.
She laid back and opened to me,
guided me in,
held me close,
and let me go strong.
Monday nights are wonderful things when monday night is monday night.
:-p
Kneeling up in bed, kissing, touching full access to each other's bodies.
A toy, a touch, a climax, then my turn.
She laid back and opened to me,
guided me in,
held me close,
and let me go strong.
Monday nights are wonderful things when monday night is monday night.
:-p
I should write something....
But there's not much going on. I'm out of the gym because of a minor "procedure" on my leg, besides, they pulled me out of my class because I only had one class on the schedule and they wanted me to teach two, but the 2nd class was 25 miles away, in LA traffic, for $12, no thank you very much.
The job search continues, slowly, but, well, slowly.
My sex life was good Saturday night, and I'm hopeful for today, maybe.
The weather is perfectly overcast and cool, much better than the 100f we had on Thursday.
I've been really in to Instagram as I've been taking walks instead of going running (see 1st point), and I get a kick out of that. If you want to follow along (it's mostly pictures of flowers and stuff I see on my walks) my user ID is 'Advizor54' (shocking, I know).
I had a chance to talk to a friend on-line today, we've only talked a couple of times due to technical difficulties, but it was nice to see her. She got the best of it, 'cause she didn't have to look at me. We are working on losing weight together and she's doing a great job and she's a great motivation for me.
Besides that, it's been awfully blah.
I did cum on camera for a friend the other day. It was glorious for both of us.
The job search continues, slowly, but, well, slowly.
My sex life was good Saturday night, and I'm hopeful for today, maybe.
The weather is perfectly overcast and cool, much better than the 100f we had on Thursday.
I've been really in to Instagram as I've been taking walks instead of going running (see 1st point), and I get a kick out of that. If you want to follow along (it's mostly pictures of flowers and stuff I see on my walks) my user ID is 'Advizor54' (shocking, I know).
I had a chance to talk to a friend on-line today, we've only talked a couple of times due to technical difficulties, but it was nice to see her. She got the best of it, 'cause she didn't have to look at me. We are working on losing weight together and she's doing a great job and she's a great motivation for me.
Besides that, it's been awfully blah.
I did cum on camera for a friend the other day. It was glorious for both of us.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Good luck my friend.
A friend of mine stopped blogging a while ago but we kept in touch via e-mail and Skype.
Now she is gone for good, shutting down her on-line life to concentrate on home and family.
I hope she is happy.
I hope her marital bed becomes a happy one.
I hope her boyfriend understands.
and I hope she moves onward and upward and find all the joy she is seeking.
I will miss seeing her naked however.
Now she is gone for good, shutting down her on-line life to concentrate on home and family.
I hope she is happy.
I hope her marital bed becomes a happy one.
I hope her boyfriend understands.
and I hope she moves onward and upward and find all the joy she is seeking.
I will miss seeing her naked however.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
I should not encourage this
I'm sure this is going viral even as we write/read this, it shouldn't, but it will. I just want to see what happens in the men's room after the owner of the Freedom Flask has drunk it all. Will he still put the cup out one more time...? That is what I want to see.
The imbedding is having trouble, so here's the direct link.
A dear friend of mine sent me a joke to go along with this post....
Thanks sweetie!!
The imbedding is having trouble, so here's the direct link.
A dear friend of mine sent me a joke to go along with this post....
One day a Russian found a bottle with a genie in it and the genie said that he could grant him one wish. The Russian thought for a moment and then replied "I would like to piss out vodka". So the genie granted him his wish so he took a glass and pissed in it and tasted it and thought that it was the best tasting vodka he ever had. So he rushes home to tell his wife and to prove to her he got two glasses and pissed in them for her to try. She thought that it was the best vodka she ever tried so they partied all night. This went on for several nights until one night he only brought out one glass instead of two. So his wife asked him" why only one glass tonight?" and he replied " tonight you are drinking from the bottle".
Thanks sweetie!!
TMI - Illicit skills (AKA the most boring TMI Ever)
Illicit Skills
If you are hesitant about confessing crimes…lie…be creative.
1. Do you know how to pick a lock? Have you ever used this skill to gain unauthorized access?
Nope – When I was younger, my neighbor asked me to watch over their house and mow the lawn while they were on vacation. I asked about keys and he said it was locked up “so tight, Fort Knox would be jealous.” So, of course, I broke in the first afternoon I mowed the lawn. I ate some food from the fridge and watched some TV, but the wife and daughters were ugly so I didn’t do any intimate snooping, and, it was before I knew to look for sex toys. Unfortunately, a neighbor saw me inside the house, called my dad, and I got REEMED that night. Not a happy ending at all.
2. Do you know how to open a safe with a rotary combination lock? - Yes
Have you ever used this skill to gain unauthorized access? Nope
What did you find? - Nothing
3. Have you ever made a copy of a key you were not supposed to have? Yes
Did you use it to gain unauthorized access? Hell yes
What were you looking for? A full sized basketball court
Did you find it? Not only did I find it, my friends and I played on it for a year.
4. Have you ever stolen or guessed a password? Who hasn’t?
Did you use it to gain unauthorized access? Of course, that’s the point
What did you do? Saw my best friends letters to his girlfriend and wrote one of my own to her under his name, changed his password, and then shut down. He was sooo confused the next day. Took him all day to get things back to normal. I don’t think his GF knew that I wrote the letter, but I do think he got some extra loving that night.
5. Do you know how to get data from a computer that requires a password you don’t know? Yes (let’s just leave it at that)
6. Do you know how to record a telephone call? Yes
Have you ever done so secretly? Yes
Did you hear anything interesting? Not really, I already know my parent’s hated each other.
7. Have you ever used a webcam or nanny cam to photograph someone secretly? No, but I have thought about it many many times. My cousin is really hot and she has a nanny cam in her house. If I could just get in to reposition it….
8. Have you ever used an infrared camera to photograph someone secretly in the dark? Yes – You’ve seen the Paris Hilton footage, that was mine.
9. Have you ever learned anything important by deliberate eavesdropping? Yes – If you wear a set of headphone and just turn off the music while bobbing you head up and down, people assume you are deaf or dead and just start talking. I found out about a friend’s first blow-job (she loved it), how another friend lost her virginity, and that my best friend was about to get dumped. I told him and he dumped her first. WINNING!
10. Do you know how to hot-wire a car? Nope, but I really should learn, it will be very useful in the zombie apocalypse.
I’m sorry my past hasn’t been more felonious. I’ll try to do better in the future, or, should I say, do worse.
Bonus: Have you ever been paid for your sexual skills? What skill(s) did you perform?
I was a paid escort for my friend's cousin who was in town for a couple of weeks. My friend paid for meals, movies, gas, the works, I didn't charge him for making out with her though, that was thrown in for good customer service. He never knew I kissed her, but, if he's reading my blog now, Patricia squeals a little when she cums, just thought you'd like to know.
————-
Monday, April 16, 2012
You ask too many questions
I had been a good boy the entire conversation,
but I saw something in her Mona Lisa smile that hinted at something else.
Kneel up.
Why?
Please
OK, let me close the blinds.
OK, I'm back.
Show me what's under the robe.
OK, (giggling)
Cute, now show me your panties.
What?
Show me your panties. I only have a few minutes.
Show me your panties. I only have a few minutes.
They are cute.
Slip you hand down in side.
(Gasp)
Do you want to show me?
(Mmmmm)
Do you want to touch?
(a catch in your breath as you make contact)
Tell me what you want.....
It wasn't working.
She was holding back.....
You ask too many questions.
Put a finger deep inside. Now.
(aaaaaghhhh)
That's better. Pull your panties to the side.
Show me.
(willing compliance)
So pretty, so perfectly pink.
Two fingers.
DEEPER
(the most beautiful sounds in the world now come through my screen)
On your clit. Hard.
(She positions her phone so I can see everything)
Get back inside and get ready to cum for me.
(ah ah ah.......)
NOW!
Let me See it!
Her orgasm hit and she brought her face back in to frame. She is so beautiful, though I am not allowed to say so. Such a wonderful smile and glimmering hair.
Conversations resume in the aftermath, but her face doesn't change, and her fingers don't come back in to frame to play with her hair and hide her face as she giggles.
You are going to cum for me again.
She willingly complies, because I stopped asking too many questions.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Blah....
Over the past few weeks I have been lucky enough to pick up several new followers, wonderful people, some with great blogs of their own, others who enjoy the blogs of others, but all welcome.
So, how do I show my thanks? But dropping in to a writing funk that seems to deepening each day.
I have had little time or energy for writing, for play, for anything really. Perhaps my testosterone levels are following the lunar cycle now, with three other women in the house, maybe I'm finally getting in synch with them.
I spend a few minutes on Tumblr, and got bored, fewer minutes on RedTube, and lost interest, even had a few minutes for "me" time, and took a nap instead.
So, thank you to all my new followers for taking time to click me into your circle of friends. I'll try to make it worth you while some time soon.
So, how do I show my thanks? But dropping in to a writing funk that seems to deepening each day.
I have had little time or energy for writing, for play, for anything really. Perhaps my testosterone levels are following the lunar cycle now, with three other women in the house, maybe I'm finally getting in synch with them.
I spend a few minutes on Tumblr, and got bored, fewer minutes on RedTube, and lost interest, even had a few minutes for "me" time, and took a nap instead.
So, thank you to all my new followers for taking time to click me into your circle of friends. I'll try to make it worth you while some time soon.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
TMI -
Today’s fun TMI Tuesday questions were submitted by Jz from “A Reluctant Bitch” blog. Enjoy!
————-
Love, Hate, and Guilty Secrets. We never mind telling people about things we love or hate, but how about the things we love, but would hate for anyone to find out about?
Well, it’s time to free yourself of that fear!
For each of the categories below, list one thing you love, one that you hate, and then, take a deep breath and tell us something you hate to admit you love.
Really.
You’ll feel better for it!
You’ll feel better for it!
1. Food
I love popcorn, shrimp burritos, and fresh baked cookies
I hate broccoli, cauliflower,asparagus, these are not foods, they are poisons, no matter how much cheese you melt on top
My guilty secret is hostess cupcakes straight from the freezer
2. Apparel
I love new jeans, lightweight golf shirts, suits that fit
I hate ties, it’s really just a fancy noose
My guilty secret is my running shorts, but it’s hard to keep them secret
3. Books
I love Classic Science fiction
I hate Westerns (please use that Colt Revolver to kill me), oh, and spy novels. (zzz, zzz, zzz)
My guilty secret is I hated Twilight, Loved Harry Potter, and am trying to get my kids hooked on the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew
4. Songs
I love ”Like Castenets” “I hateWinnipeg” , my KEXP daily song podcast (but my tastes are wide and varied, don’t make me pick the same list on any two consecutive days, please
I hate ”Highway to Hell” are you kidding me? That song got published?
My guilty secret is I know the words to more musicals than I should admit. And I’ll admit, that the first ½ of Highway to Hell is kind of catchy.
5. Movie
I love “Raising Arizona”, “Joe v. The Volcano”, “Doctor Zhivago”, “Nightmare before Christmas”…. I could keep going as long as you want.
I hate anything with Drew Barrymore, UGH, ugly, can’t act, self-righteous.
My guilty secret is Anything made by Pixar is better than 90% of the Oscar winners in any given year.
6. TV Show
I love: Big Bang Theory, The Simpsons, The Walking Dead (Season 1)
I hate reality TV, it is pandering to the worst in all of us, and, given the state of TV today, that says a lot. The creators of “Jersey Shore” and “The real housewives of anywhere…. Should be hung for crimes against humanity.
My guilty secret is Wizards of Waverly Place, and not just for Selena Gomez, but she certainly helps
7. Celebrity Crush
I love Kaley Cuoco, strangley enough, that’s about it. I don’t watch much TV and celebrities don’t do it for me, I’d rather crush on my blogger friends.
I hate Drew Barrymore, Tom Cruise, Donald Trump, anyone pimping out their kids on reality TV, anyone making reality TV, the whores and skanks and idiots on romance reality shows, liberal media commentators who don’t understand what freedom costs, conservative commentators who do nothing but scream, and Lindsey Lohan, just because she has squandered so much potential.
My guilty secret is I want to record “The Client list” just to get a glimpse of JLH in her lingerie.
8. Music Group
I love Pink Floyd, Andre Segovia, Classical Guitar, the 80’s, Lady Gago
I hate slasher/death/skull/blood metal. Music is more than angry screaming about your mother issues before you get in your corporate jet and fly to your villa in Tuscany. Oh, yea, and Madona just needs to crawl away and die, soon, please. Give it up, you are old and look awful, sound worse, and really should have had a walker with you at the Super Bowl.
My guilty secret is Selena Gomez is pretty danceable
9. Sports Team
I love my alma matter, but they suck at basketball (2-16)
I hate them all, such spoiled prima donnas
My guilty secret is that I wish the WWE was real, we need more gladiators in spandex with fuckable ring girls, and the MMA guys all seem like pricks that I wouldn’t want to talk to if you gave me a million $$
Bonus:
Sex Position or Sex Act or fetish
I hate that moment when you realized you both should have showered before getting started
My guilty secret is that I’m really want to bang my niece even though (or because) she is a total skank,
————-
How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblogfrom your website!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)