Nathan doesn’t like to have sex if I’m on my period. And I can understand that. If I’m not at the beginning or the end I don’t really want to have sex either. Unless the end drags on and on and… on. In that case, if he is around and sleeping in my bed, I want to fuck him senseless.
But in the last week that he’s been here, there has been none of that. Every morning I wake up to an epic specimen of morning wood brushing my thigh, but when I mention sex the question he asks is, “Are you still broken?”
In other words, no sex for Marian. So there has been a Mexican standoff in my little cottage. If I can’t have orgasms from him, then I had no intention of giving him any form of release. But this morning I didn’t exactly stick to my…
It has been nearly a year and a half since my last post on this blog, and I have moved not only countries but continents since then. More importantly, I have travelled significant internal journeys in this time, searching more intensively than ever before to find a focus for my work, a way to feel comfortable with being settled in a more long-term way than ever before, and to get back my sense of who and how I really want to be in my life.
Part of this journey has been about pushing myself to be more authentic, vulnerable, and honest. It has been a process of trying to integrate the disparate fragments of my personality into a more coherent whole, and to regain a clearer sense of purpose. It has also involved tackling a few past demons, and trying to move beyond my feelings of victimhood in some key areas of my life, centrally within my relationships and my sexuality.
I have also started to re-engage with feminist dialogues in the past six or so months, and I have been feeling increasingly uneasy about this blog. On the one hand everything I wrote here was true – and, moreover, it was an enormous amount of fun at the time. The project was started as an exercise in exploration and empowerment: I wanted to break free of the inhibitions of my past and throw myself into a more fun and fulfilling sex life, taking control rather than being a passive subject. Continue reading →
i guess i’m old fashioned, but i don’t want us to fuck like porn stars.
i don’t want to change positions every three minutes.
i don’t want you to spit on my cock before you suck me.
i don’t want to shove my cock into your throat so you gag.
i don’t want you to show me your tongue to prove you swallowed.
i guess i’m old fashioned, but i just want to simply, plainly, and expertly,
fuck you, and make you come.
my idea of a glory shot, is seeing your eyes roll back in your head when you start to shake.
We were back from a wonderful dinner celebrating our ninth wedding anniversary, and finally climbing naked into bed.
“Of course,” I replied, as he shifted to the centre of the bed and spread his gorgeous arms out to either side. I slipped the silk scarves that we now keep permanently tied to the bed around his wrists, and smiled down at him. After only a moment’s thought I shifted my body next to his and took the first finger on his right hand into my mouth, running my tongue slowly up the length of it, then giving a slight nip of my teeth on the tip. He sighed in the anticipation of more of this newly-discovered pleasure, his eyes closed, a smile on his lips. Slowly, patiently, I worked my way through each of his fingers, then ran the flat of my tongue over his palm, jumping the silk snaked over his wrist, to continue on a now-uninterrupted path down the inside of his forearm, over his biceps, down to his right nipple, then up to his neck, his ear, and finally his lips for a long, deep kiss. Continue reading →
On my own for a few weeks with H away on a sports tour, I am going to have to hone my imagination and my masturbation skills… so here is a story for you all.
I left the busy office behind me as I crept down the stairs from the second floor to the first, where there is a shower with a small change room, which I use when I cycle to work. I locked the door and pulled out the small wooden chair which folds up into the wall next the shower, pulled up my skirt, and sat down. My right hand slipped inside my black lace panties, and the middle finger slid straight inside my waiting cunt, already wet and swollen with anticipation. It explored a little, ensuring it was perfectly covered in my juices before sliding back out, circling my clit a couple of times, then rising to my mouth so I could taste and smell myself. Back down to my clit, after pausing to toy briefly with my nipples through my shirt with the clean index finger, it began an anti-clockwise circling motion, while the middle finger of my left hand moved down and gentle began probing its way just inside my ass. Continue reading →
He walked into the bedroom, took one glance at my cheeky smile and the fact that the bedside lamp was still on when I was supposed to have been asleep an hour earlier, and asked,
“What are you up to?”
“Just waiting for you to come lick my pussy,” I replied, with a giggle just under the surface as I put aside the book of erotica I had been reading while my fingers toyed with my clit, covered in my sweetly musky juices, and another finger gently teased my ass.
A minute later his cupped hand covered my mouth, smothering my gasps and moans as I relaxed into the first wave of orgasms. I am not used to having to be quiet, as the children sleep through any amount of noise, and we haven’t had guests for a while – at least apart from some close friends, who know and tolerate our sexual appetites. However, with three visitors I didn’t yet know very well still getting ready for bed, discretion was advisable. Continue reading →