What he's thinking

I always tease my husband that he never thinks about sex unless we're having it, that he's a very much in-the-moment kind of person. Whatever he's doing at that moment is the thing he wants to do.

But in his arms, with his lips against my ear and his fingers stroking my clit in that way I like, he began to reveal something.

"You know, I didn't tell you this, but I think I should now. Earlier, when you'd just gotten home and were finishing your lunch and you were telling me about your day, I was looking at you and thinking: 'I own this woman. I could take her right now and make her do anything I wanted.'

Shocked at this revelation, and more than a little aroused by it, I moaned. I know the things we get up to but the idea that they should cross his mind in the middle of the day while I'm just talking to him was just mind-blowing.

He  continued: "'I could take her in the other room at this moment and have her suck my cock, or I could fuck her. I could fuck her anywhere I wanted.' But I didn't think we should be doing that in the middle of the day with the boy right in the other room, so I didn't say anything. I just contented myself with looking into your eyes and thinking that you're mine, that I could take you anytime, anywhere."

Concluding his little speech into my ear, he slid his fingers into me and pressed my clit just so. It didn't take long before I was helplessly rocked by spasms.

I always ask what he's thinking, but this is the first time hearing it actually made me orgasm. Maybe I should ask less and just let him tell me more.

Insistence

I adore anal sex. I love the way it makes me feel; I love the entire process of preparing for it. First me cleansing myself, and then my master slowly lubricating me and stretching me out to take his cock. It makes me feel owned, it makes me feel cherished, it makes me feel used and taken and claimed and adored. When my master's cock is buried in my helpless ass, I am truly a sex slave.

I often wind up preparing myself for it, making sure all is clean and pleasant, when there will be none forthcoming. Sometimes I am prepared and my master suggests it and I find myself struck with a sudden fear, and I shake my head furiously and I protest, despite the fact that another part of me is desperately aching for his cock to force its way into my ass.

So it was this time. He'd already fucked my breasts, my face, and my pussy for an extended time in three different positions. He was on top of me with my feet hooked around his ankles when he said it. "I think it's time for me to fuck your ass, now," he whispered in the voice he uses when he wants to send tingles all over me.

 It worked. I shivered, but shook my head. "Nuh-uh," I grunted.

"Yeah," he said, as if I hadn't responded at all, "I really should be fucking your ass right now, shouldn't I?"

"Nuh-uh," I whimpered again.

"'Nuh-uh'? That's what it's for, isn't it? Isn't it just another hole for me to fuck?"

I shook with the force of his words. I nodded helplessly. It's not even really my choice. I gave that to him. I could stop him, but I never would unless I truly needed to. Then he slowly prepared me to take his cock in my ass, to be the collection of fuck holes that I so long to be.

And I am one lucky sex slave.

Why being married is awesome

We'd just finished a spectacularly mind-blowing session. He'd fucked every single part of me from several different angles - including my armpit-breast area, and we'd just collapsed after he'd given me my second orgasm.

"Ooooh, I like being married to you!" he said, resting his arm across my back as I panted into a pillow, trying to recover.

"mmmmm, why is that?" I asked breathlessly.

"Because we get to have sex," he said.

I laughed. Because so many things were going through my head right then. Like, being married isn't a prerequisite to having sex, and being married doesn't guarantee sex, and even if it did, then he could be married to anyone at all, absolutely anyone, and it wouldn't have to be me.

But all those thoughts went through my head in the split second before he continued: "...and you're a particularly amazing person to have sex with."

Be still, my heart. When he gets shit right, he really, really gets it right.

Annoyed by porn

Lately, I've been exploring a few porn videos. Just casually browsing the Internet and seeing what I can find. 

I don't care so much about the visuals of something. Previously in my life, I've been satisfied to find writing that plants words and ideas in my head. I'm all about the words. 

But as the internet advances, good sex writing gets harder and harder to come by in the random internet. Yes, there are books, but for just a quick idea session? Not so much. I found myself returning to the same story over and over. A search almost always would turn up videos first, with writing scattered between them. And so, finally I broke and decided to check out some videos. 

I love anal sex. So I looked for BDSM anal sex videos. 

I found one that turned me on so much I was shocked and fascinated. I'd never had that reaction to a video before. 

But just one. It goes from the beginning of the interaction, has lots and lots of talking, shows the prep, the girl's reactions, everything. 

Every other video I've found skips around like it has a serious attention deficit disorder. They'll jump from an intro to a flogging to an all-out-ass-fucking faster than my brain can process that it's meant to be watching people having sex in the first place. And close-ups of quick-piston action of a cock into a hole? No thank you? What even is that? 

I can only surmise that this is because the people who cut the video figure that male viewers only want to see the most action-oriented parts. But I'm annoyed because if they're going to film something, and obviously there's a camera there the whole time, I want to see the prep and the talking and go with the feelings of the thing. To actually become stirred, I need more than 3 minutes from intro to "AH-AH-AH-AHHHHH." 

But maybe that's just me.

Your thoughts?

Sleepiness

On Mother's Day, we were going to go for a hike.

But our child woke us up way too early and I spent the day battling intense sleepiness. Standing up became difficult as the afternoon progressed.

"You want to just go take a nap?" my husband asked.

"No, I don't. But yes, I do." I answered. What I honestly wanted was to hike. But I didn't think I would manage very far before succumbing to my overwhelming exhaustion. "I don't want to be by myself, though."

"Oh, I'll come with you," he said, hugging me tightly to him before I turned to go into the bedroom.

I struggled to remain standing long enough to let my jeans, donned especially for hiking, fall to the floor. I crawled into bed and my heavy eyelids slammed shut.

My husband's arms went around me and he whispered into my ear, "I'll lie here and hold you."

I sleepily mumbled my pleased gratitude. As I snuggled into him, I felt his cock grow hard against my arm. His hips drove it against me.

"I can't promise I won't fuck you though," he growled, his arousal becoming more insistent by the moment.

"Mmm," I murmured, "I can't promise I'll be too responsive."

---

There was fucking. And there was responsiveness wherein he forced me to beg to be fucked. And then there was a second fucking.

My husband has a fetish for exhaustion. Not for actual unconsciousness, but sleepiness so overwhelming that it's grabbing and pulling me.

I'm having trouble finding out what that's called. But he definitely has it.

I kind of dig it. It fulfills my need to give him what he wants, even if it's not what I necessarily want in the moment.

Fucking is better than sleep anyway.

I need to find more ways to wear myself out, but preferably not so that I'm miserable all day.

Apparently there's a listed fetish for your OWN exhaustion making you horny. Kopophilia - but where is the "my partner's exhaustion turns me on" fetish? I'll keep looking.

Happy stick

We're cuddled together in bed on a Saturday morning, sunlight streaming through the gaps around the curtain. The night before we had amazing anal sex that left me feeling completely sated for the entire night, and now that it's morning I'm still feeling residual happy chemicals. I'd love more sex, but we have plans. 

I drop little kisses along his chest and shoulder, and I'm thinking about how amazing last night was. "What's it like, to go inside a person?" I ask him. 

"Hm? Well, if you think about it, it's not really me, it's just a bit that sticks out from me."

I roll my eyes but I don't know if he can see it. I sigh in an exaggerated fashion. "That's not helpful," I grumble, but playfully.

"Okay. It's like. . . it's like stabbing someone with a happy stick, over and over."

I collapse into helpless giggles for a very, very long time.

Happy stick, indeed.

An award and a gift

Pearl over at Happily Surrendered and Submissive has graciously awarded me a Liebster. Thank you, lovely lady! I took it upon myself to hunt down the original image so you can all copy it over to your blogs if you'd like to replace the fairly problematic image currently circulating. If it doesn't bother you, then no biggie, but if it does, well, here ya go!

Like all of these funny little things circulating the blogosphere, it comes with rules. They are: 

1. Thank the person who nominated you and post a link to their blog on your blog.

2. Display the award on your blog-- by including it in your post and / or displaying it using a "widget" or "gadget". (this part was problematic for me since it was literally the worst image I'd ever seen - but I found it before it was wrecked, so yay!)

3. Answer 11 questions about yourself which will be provided to you by the person who nominated you.

4. Provide 11 random facts about yourself.

5. Nominate 5-11 blogs you feel deserve this award, who have less than 1000 followers. (Note that you can ask the blog owner this since not all blogs display the widget that lets readers know this information.

6. Create a new list of questions for the blogger to answer.

7. List these rules on your post. Once you have written and published it, you then have to :

8. Inform people/blogs that you nominated that they have been nominated for the Liebster Award and provide a link for them to your post so they can learn about it (they might not have heard of it!)

It's funny because I'm pretty sure the last time one of these was going around, the lists of personal questions wasn't even a thing.  So what I'm gonna do is answer Pearl's questions. Lots of random facts about me are already floating around my blog, and the more of those I spill, the less anonymous I become. 

Anyway, that all said, here are Pearl's questions:

1. Where were you the first time you and your Husband/Wife kissed?

In a friend's apartment, after we'd just met in the airport. It was not a good kiss because it was his first kiss ever. He's fixed that now.  

2. What does your Husband/Wife do first when waking up (if you're not sure...ask!!)?

The first thing my husband does upon waking is to wrap himself more around me, if he's not already wrapped tightly. His alarm goes off, we stop it, and he snuggles me extra. Every morning.

3. Favorite place to touch your Husband/Wife?

Hm. I like different things for different reasons. Not sure if I can say I have a favorite. I enjoy touching him in places that make him make happy noises. I do really like his sides, just under his ribs, and playing with the little hairs that grow in a line along his collarbone.

4. The last place you touched your Husband/Wife?

. . .the hand. He was just here holding me and I put my hand on his and kissed it before he went off to give me a few minutes of precious, precious alone time in which I don't have to do anything for anyone.

5. Campfire or fireplace?

Both. I'm greedy like that. But, really, campfire because a fireplace just leads to draftiness. I own a house with three fireplaces and I learned way too much about them though I never lived there.

6. Biggest sex blooper you and your Husband/Wife have had?

Hm, a blooper. I don't think it counts as a blooper but we once shared the same enormous pair of pajama pants, for giggles.

I can't think of any funny actual bloopers we've had right now, though I'm sure they exist. I remember having sex with my ex once while Married With Children was playing on his TV. That wasn't the best idea ever.

7. Favorite sexy toy?

ANY of my gorgeous silky floggers. Or my butt plug (mood naughty). Those are the things I must have.

8. Do you worry (what worries you) about those around you knowing about your relationship dynamic?

I... don't actually care anymore. Whatever. I'm trying to live an honest life and if my friends know I'm kinky then that makes it all the better. The family members that are closest to me know. The family members who would condemn me for liking sex at all, much less the kind of things I get up to, don't know. I don't worry about them finding out, I just don't need to talk about my sex life with them because... why would I? I don't talk to them about anything.

9. One hidden talent?

Hidden from whom? I'm a pretty good electrician. I once fancied becoming a master gardener and/or working for the agricultural extension office. I excel at gravitating toward purple objects in any place of business. I do not always buy them but I usually must touch them at least.

10. If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

I would let go of things more easily, physical things and concepts, ideas, dreams.  When you hold on too tightly to anything it prevents you from fully realizing anything else. I'd also lower my libido a little. Okay, that's more than one thing, but if it's really stuck to one thing, then just the first. It would help a little with the second anyway.

11. One sex related item you would NOT want to live without? (Besides your partner)

Sex...related..item? That's not a toy? HRM.  Oh oh, my bamboo sheets. Definitely. I luffs them. We both do.

Yay, that was fun!

I'm going to be a spoilsport though and not nominate anyone or ask any questions because I'm out of alone time. Thank you again, Pearl!

A moment

I'd just come back from the bathroom and crawled into my husband's arms. He turned slightly toward me and his cock, hard and demanding, pressed against my wrist.

"Oh, husband, were you flopping your penis about again?" I asked as my hand rubbed his erection through the fabric of his boxers.

"No, it was like that before you left," he replied.

"Ooh, I didn't realize," I murmured, dropping little kisses on his chest.

"Maybe it would feel better if you sucked on it," he said.

"Hmm? Is something wrong with it?" I asked, slipping down his body already.

"Wrong with it? It's not in your mouth."

"Ooooooooh," I said, purring a little as I slipped his boxers down his legs. I planted a wet sucking kiss on his cock. "That's a good answer." I sucked him in, and then, for emphasis, lifted my head off once more. "I like that answer," I finished as I lowered my head all the way down and started pleasuring him in earnest.

I still do.

Noise

He's on top of me and my legs are in the air. He made me beg for his cock in me, words I could hardly get out for the blood pounding in my head, but now it feels enormous, so big that I cry out with every thrust.

"So nice of you to make yourself into a hole for me to fuck," he growls as I barely keep from screaming. I remember we forgot to close the window. I had no idea this was going to happen.

"I think I'll fuck your face next," he whispers, pressing his cock fully into me and leaning all the way down to send his words straight into my ear canal. I cry out again, the pulses of blood through his cock making it swell and stretching me almost beyond endurance. "I'll stick my cock into the hole all that noise is coming out of, and I'll fuck it."

My entire body breaks into a sweat. His whispered promise sends heat through me like I'd never imagined.

---

He's not a man to mince words. Soon, he's straddling my face, and his cock blocks all the screams that I would be making. It presses into my throat, unavoidable, undeniable, tasting of sex.

The noise is stopped. The window needn't be thought about.

My favorite posts: Q&A

Don't worry, I haven't disappeared again. It's tempting but I'm putting forth an effort to pretend to be a person, and maybe the feelings will go along with it eventually.

What I have been doing is reading the fantastic sporking that Jenny Trout has given the 50 Shades trilogy. Pretty much nonstop. It's like reading the books, but with a constant companion who dreads the experience as much as you do and has a wonderful sense of humor.

I highly recommend it, if, like me, you won't lay a finger on those books for reasons that have nothing to do with "explicit sex" - because believe me, the sex I've read in those books is definitely not what I'd call explicit.

"Down there."

Snort.

http://jennytrout.wordpress.com/jenny-reads-50-shades-of-grey/

---

NOW. The lovely Pearl asked me what one (or 2) of my favorite posts are, and why. I do have a sidebar with some of what I consider my best writing linked in it under the heading "Some of my favorite posts," but to be fair I haven't updated it in quite some time. I thought I would share one sex post and one informative one. So, not to be repetitive or anything, but this piece is definitely right up there:  Hot anal action

Why? Because I genuinely adore anal sex, but it doesn't happen often (yes, still), and this was one of the most mind-blowing experiences I have ever had.

As for the informative one, I'm going to go fairly recent. The shockingly simple motivations of sexuality

Lily's original post was much, much better than mine, but at least this one keeps the idea going.

---

Thanks so much for the question, Pearl!

Any more from anyone? It's still March!

Why I don't like kissing

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "haha, this is one of those clickbait titles, isn't it? This is going to be one of those essays where the writer explains that she doesn't like kissing, she loves kissing."

If that's what you're thinking, you're wrong.

Kissing, as it is, does nothing for me. What the hell? It's two sets of lips shaking hands.

My husband does like kissing. "It feels nice. It feels intimate," he says.

I do like kisses - giving and receiving - little drops of affection against skin. But lips-to-lips? Meh, says I. But I think I figured out why. It's too much of an egalitarian activity. We press our lips together and we move them - and our tongues - in certain ways. It's just a thing people do.

However. If there is force involved, or once I am turned on enough, it's all a different thing. It becomes exciting. His hand on my throat/jaw, forcing my face to stay where it is while his mouth claims mine? Oh, fuck. Even better, one hand on the back of my head while the other is on my throat. Fuck, yes. That's a kissing-related activity I can get into.

And then, with extreme arousal, comes extreme behavior. I hadn't experienced this in so long I'd almost forgotten, but I did just last night and what a revelation that is. There is a point of arousal when I just need him inside me, any bit of him, anywhere. If all I can do is kiss him and suck his lip into my mouth, then that is what I will do. I will attempt to devour him with every available part that can do so.

I'm indifferent to kissing, but I love being kissed.

And apparently when I am aroused enough by the being kissed, all my previously established kissing behavior is just out the bloody window.

Strange beasts, humans.

---

It's still March, y'all! Any questions? Ask and be answered!

Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated: Q&A

Q1. Where have you been? Why did you stop blogging and commenting and answering comments?

There's no one easy pat answer to this, and for the record I don't actually consider myself to have "stopped" blogging. I just haven't had anything to blog about. Once in a while a thought would tickle my brain and I'd think "that would be an amazing blog post," but then the pervasive tendrils of apathy that depression sinks into a person's soul would remind me that there really was no point. 

I'm teaching my child at home, too, and the amount of time I have for something as concerted and focused as blogging and maintaining the (very valued) relationships that blogging has brought to me has dropped to nearly nil. I am currently seeking to resolve this, but having a new reader come up next to you every few minutes to ask a question puts a damper on reading blogs. My blog itself has always been light on graphic images for the very reason that I have small eyes that could see them at any time. Now those small eyes also read words. It's just another dynamic that I have to think of when settling down to write.

As to other people's blogs - well, the same thing sort of applies. There tend to be graphic images willy-nilly, and while I actually have no problem with my little one seeing nudity, I do have a problem with nudity itself being sexualized for him so early. I do read certain blogs still that I've found are a sort of "safe" zone - yours, fiona, The Pervocracy, the dirty normal, t1klish's. But none of those blogs need my input. 

I occasionally peek over at other people's too when I can, and I will comment when I feel I have something to add or some helpful bit of advice.

The other part is, as alluded to above, an intense depression that has taken me over for the better part of this year. Our sex life dwindled away (causing the depression rather than caused by it), and even when we would have sex I wouldn't orgasm. I couldn't honestly tell you if I've had more orgasms this year than I have fingers. 

Add all that in with a 3-week-long visit from in-laws, and... well, a sex and relationship blog has to have something to keep it going, doesn't it? I try my best not to write about issues I'm having until they're resolved. It seems unfair to the relationship and my husband to air our issues while they're ongoing.

Q2. What is an amazingly sexy moment that you and your husband have had since you stopped regularly blogging?

Yeah, about that. Sex has been painful for me lately. After sex I would ache inside for a few days. I think it just hasn't been frequent enough for my body to adjust to the sort of sex we were having. I recently told him about this and he was dismayed.

It is getting better. We had amazing sex just earlier this week that has only caused a little bit of aching for me. That would have to be my top moment then, when he told me he could be gentle enough but he needed "some of that," when referring to his finger's gently probing me and finding me very very ready.

I told him I was afraid, and he said "You should be. Didn't you learn from last time? Maybe you should stop me."

I love it when he says stuff blaming me for something he's doing. It really works me up. 

Q3. What is your favorite decadent treat (food not fantasy ��). 

Hm. I make these killer reverse chocolate white chocolate chip cookies with dark cocoa, vanilla bean powder,  and vegan white chocolate chips (the veganness makes all the difference, regular dairy-laden white chocolate made my mouth unhappy even before I was vegan). 

I've been baking homemade bread every day too though, and a slice of that with margarine and strawberry jam may just be my absolute favorite. 

Q4. What is your current goto fantasy to cum?

So... yeah. I haven't been fantasizing. I've been mired in the pit of my own despair for way way too long. Also I find it frustrating to fantasize when there's no partnered sex forthcoming, although I have been known to fantasize during partnered sex. . . but there's not been much of that either. My fantasies of late have been more of the "wink out of existence" variety than the "have an orgasm" variety. 

But if we want to stretch "current" back to last year sometime, then my regular, sure-fire ones tended to involve restraint and triple penetration with lots and lots of talking and being upbraided for..whatever. Generally something I have no control over, like the weather or something he's done himself. 

My triple penetration fantasies go something like this: Dildo, gag, anal plug, spanking, having each object removed for a cock to take its place, then replaced when the cock is ready to move on to the next opening. Just being full constantly, and talked to. 

Or another one is the one where he tells me what to do when he's not here, to be prepared for when he is. 

These things don't happen. That is why they are fantasies.

Floggers - Q&A

To answer DelFonte's question - and thanks, by the way, for playing:

Are you still making floggers - any new designs?

YES. I still make floggers. Though I'm not exactly what I'd call a master marketer, folks still contact me now and then to make them an original creation and I pour all my love and creativity into it. A wonderful woman contacted me just before I left for a long trip over the holidays and she was patient enough to wait for me to get back before her lovely thing was delivered to her.

She wanted purple, red, and silver. This is what I delivered:

Inspired and enjoying being surrounded by my ropes and dye again, I then crafted what, to my eye, may be the most beautiful flogger ever to have existed. I have not listed it because of the aforementioned lack of marketing skills, but if anyone's interested in it I'm certainly up for negotiation.

 It's a gorgeous, huge, heavy monster. The purple is a bit deeper/darker than I can make photos show, but you get that with purple and cameras. I'm so proud of it I could burst, but again, not so much for the marketing.

Seriously, DelFonte, thanks so much for the question. It seemed like Q&A was a good way to dive back in.

I'll get to Fiona's questions in my next post, and if anyone has any more questions, feel free to ask!

March!

Oh, hi, it looks like it's March again and I'm just going to put myself out there.

Anybody have any questions? Ask 'em right here and I'll actually answer.

You can also email me if you prefer and I'll post the question/answer anonymously.

Internal experiences, external actions

His hand pushes on the back of my head, forcing it forward and away from him, exposing the back of my neck to him. He rubs the soft bristles of his beard against me there, a thousand tiny points of sensation, and I gasp loudly.

"You like that, girl?" he asks, pushing harder on my head, rubbing his beard against me while I feel myself melting. He moves his chin over to the tender curve between my neck and shoulder, and I inhale sharply as sensation overtakes me. I can't say which thing I love more - the hand pressing possessively yet almost dismissively against my head, or the sensations his beard is awakening across my body. Goosebumps rise up all over me and I moan.

Making the girl blush

We get up to some awfully intense things in the bedroom, but my husband rarely speaks aloud of them outside the bedroom door.

The other night, I was feeling horrible. Overstimulation from constantly caring for our child, bills, cleaning, and a lack of sex for several days had contributed to me generally feeling withdrawn and angry on a broad, not-directed-at-anyone scale.

He followed me around and when I wound up in bed, he forced himself on me despite my protests.

"But you're not going to stop me, are you girl? I wonder why you're not going to stop me, girl," he said as he performed all sorts of things upon my person. I didn't resist. I only answered his questions when he made me, though.

But later, when it was all said and done and a large chunk of the evening was gone, I mentioned how late it was as we sat on the sofa together and talked about what to do next.

"Where did the time go?" he asked, a little startled as it was 10:30 at night by now.

"You munched it up," I answered. This is common in the language of our marriage, we speak of time being munched a lot. It's not out of the ordinary. His response, though, was.

"Oh, so it was between your legs, then?"

I couldn't even respond. I gave him a look of incredulity as the blood rushed to my face.

You'd think that making me blush would be harder than this by now, but nope, it really, really isn't.

What makes you blush?

Advice from my husband

"My nipples were really, really sensitive today," I whispered against his chest as he held me in his arms in bed. He'd abused them pretty terribly the night before and every time I moved, all day, I was reminded of that fact.

"Maybe you should stop hanging out with a nipple sadist," he replied into my hair.

As if.