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.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Friday, January 24, 2014
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.
"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.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
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caring for our child, bills, cleaning, and a lack of sex for several days had contributed to me generally feeling withdrawn and angry on a broad, not-directed-at-anyone scale.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?
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?
Friday, January 17, 2014
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.
"Maybe you should stop hanging out with a nipple sadist," he replied into my hair.
As if.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Why my husband is awesome, part 345,253,254
There's this person who's been bothering me a lot. She hates me basically for existing. I have determined on my own time that she has passive-aggressive personality disorder and I am a likely target for her hatred because I am better off than she. It's always someone else's fault.
But still, in the wee hours of the night after my husband is asleep and I am waiting to be so (I take forever every night to fall asleep), my brain tugs at her hatred, and some days it is worse than others. The other night I started crying, and it actually woke him up. He gathered me closer into his arms. "Please tell me this isn't about something that isn't worth your time and emotion," he said.
"I can't help it," I sniffled.
"Look at it this way," he said, his voice rumbling in a sleepy way, "who would you rather be? You, or her?"
I giggled against his chest, through my tears. "Me, of course."
"Well then."
"You just did that to make me laugh," I complained.
"Everything I do is to make you laugh," he answered. "Or happy. Laughter or other happy noises."
And that is why I cannot help but adore this man. I'm trapped. But it's a happy, happy trap.
But still, in the wee hours of the night after my husband is asleep and I am waiting to be so (I take forever every night to fall asleep), my brain tugs at her hatred, and some days it is worse than others. The other night I started crying, and it actually woke him up. He gathered me closer into his arms. "Please tell me this isn't about something that isn't worth your time and emotion," he said.
"I can't help it," I sniffled.
"Look at it this way," he said, his voice rumbling in a sleepy way, "who would you rather be? You, or her?"
I giggled against his chest, through my tears. "Me, of course."
"Well then."
"You just did that to make me laugh," I complained.
"Everything I do is to make you laugh," he answered. "Or happy. Laughter or other happy noises."
And that is why I cannot help but adore this man. I'm trapped. But it's a happy, happy trap.
Friday, December 13, 2013
Top 100 sex bloggers of 2013
Wow. I had no idea anyone had even nominated my blog, that's how out of the loop I have been. Thank you so much to Spanky and Fiona for doing so even while my head was immersed in the real world.
Every year, Rori goes through an incredible amount of material to compile a list of 100 of the most exciting sex blogs you will ever lay eyes on. I'm incredibly honored to have been included on that list for two years, now.
http://www.betweenmysheets.com/top-100-sex-bloggers-of-2013
Pick a few new ones to read, and check out Rori, too.
Here's her list, and congratulations to everyone who is on it!
Every year, Rori goes through an incredible amount of material to compile a list of 100 of the most exciting sex blogs you will ever lay eyes on. I'm incredibly honored to have been included on that list for two years, now.
http://www.betweenmysheets.com/top-100-sex-bloggers-of-2013
Pick a few new ones to read, and check out Rori, too.
Here's her list, and congratulations to everyone who is on it!
100. YOU! As always, I want to leave a place on this list for ALL the awesome sex bloggers out there! So please leave a comment on Between My Sheets with your name/URL to tell us about your sexy blog!
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Fucking with a vengeance
My life is brilliant. Every night I fall asleep in the arms of my delicious, fantastic, sexy husband who, even half asleep, keeps mumbling about how happy he is with me and how much he loves me.
Every night.
My life is a fairy tale dream from which I have no desire to be awakened.
It must be real, though, because the pain of his fingers clamping down on my nipple still makes me scream. My screams still seem to cause him to erupt. Those pinches do not change my reality except to sharpen it.
He revels in the power I have gifted him over my entire being.
"Your body is mine," he murmurs against my temple.
"Yes sir," I whisper in response.
"Your soul is mine," he says roughly, directly into my ear, and I shudder. His hand is causing pain somewhere. Slapping my breasts, making me arch into him, or perhaps smacking into my spread open vulva.
Every night.
My life is a fairy tale dream from which I have no desire to be awakened.
It must be real, though, because the pain of his fingers clamping down on my nipple still makes me scream. My screams still seem to cause him to erupt. Those pinches do not change my reality except to sharpen it.
He revels in the power I have gifted him over my entire being.
"Your body is mine," he murmurs against my temple.
"Yes sir," I whisper in response.
"Your soul is mine," he says roughly, directly into my ear, and I shudder. His hand is causing pain somewhere. Slapping my breasts, making me arch into him, or perhaps smacking into my spread open vulva.
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