Simply Ambrosial

am·bro·sial
1. exceptionally pleasing to taste or smell; especially delicious or fragrant.
2. worthy of the gods; divine.

There were any number of reasons why it wasn't the right time-

It was late.
We were tired.
The kids were sick.
We'd literally just changed the sheets.

But, obviously, none of those were valid reasons not to.

I didn't plot it. It was your fault. Walking around all naked, hot, and fuckable.

What's a Peter to do?

As you slid onto the bed, my eyes were drawn to your smoothly shaven pleasure center, all Pink (yes, Pink) and glistening with moisture. The lips looked slightly swollen. Basically, I saw all the signs of a happy, healthy pussy.

A pussy that needed to be licked.
A pussy that needed to be loved.
That needed to be carressed, rubbed, appreciated.
That needed to be admired, kissed, explored, and adored.

A pussy that needed to be treated the way a pussy should always be treated.

I didn't need to ask permission.

You granted permission long ago. Besides, I'm Addicted, remember?

I reached to remove my glasses, and said "And now . . ."

You finished my sentence, with a grin, saying "is the time for licking".

Brilliant!

I assumed my preferred licking position - laying on my right side, sideways to you, under your right leg.

The advantages to that position are numerous. You're relaxed, I'm relaxed. I can rest my head on your left leg while staying engaged. I get a great view, because your right leg goes under my left arm. That lets me really appreciate the beauty that exists between your legs, on your chest, and in your face. My tongue can easily reach from your ass to your clit, and every bit in between. My tongue can slide everywhere, effortlessly, leaving it free to bathe in your exquisite flavor. My left hand is free to caress your face, your neck, and your nipples. No neck cramps. No tongue cramps. Perhaps most importantly, no need to hurry.

As soon as I settled in, it was apparent that you wanted this. First the view of your swollen lips. Your clit already on display. Then the scent of your arousal hit my nose. I knew it was going to be good. In fact, I thought, it might be *really* good. When I began by just barely touching the tip of my tongue by your entrance, then pressing the entire left side of my tongue into your pussy, and sliding it slowly up to your clit, I knew. It wouldn't be *really* good after all. It was going to be great. Your lips were very responsive, really giving me something to nibble with my lips. As they got bigger, I gently closed my lips on yours and turned my head left and right, back and forth, letting your slippery lips slide through mine, delighting in the lack of friction, the soft feel, the firm substance, your intoxicating flavor. I was hard, you were engorged, and we were just beginning.

Now, in this position, I can swirl my tongue slowly around the outside of your lips, run the tip along the edges, slide a good deal up inside you, and, of course, pay homage to your clitoris. Your beautiful, aroused, red, happy clitoris. Not too much on the clit early on. Just enough to let her know she isn't being forgotten. I have to keep going up and down, using all of my tongue, savoring your flavor, worshipping your flower. I make sure to use the tip of my tongue, both sides, the top, and the bottom. I want every taste bud I have to get involved in this culinary delight. In 20 years, you have never once tasted bad to me. Only varying degrees of good. This is a really good session, though. You usually only taste this good after you've come once or twice, when the really thick, strong flavor of your orgasms hit me. This time, you've already got the orgasm flavor, even though you haven't come yet. At this point, I can't wait to taste your orgasms. I can't imagine a better flavor than I'm tasting, yet I know, from experience, that you taste even better after you come.

I started to give a bit more attention to your clit, as I can sense that you're getting more aroused. I started to lick from bottom to top, starting out by getting just the tip of my tongue into your passage, then sliding it up to your clit, and swirling it back down along the sides to start over. Your pussy likes this, and swells some more.

I realize that my chin has gotten very, very wet from your delectable juices. Things are clearly moving along nicely. Just as I shift to get a finger on my right hand into play, you gasp my left forearm with both of your hands. Good timing, and I don't even have to stop the motion of my tongue, swirling all over your lips, your clit, your opening. My finger finds your vagina, and slides in effortlessly. You are so slippery, so hot, that my finger feels the unexpected heat washing over it. At first, I just gently play around with your entrance, pulling my finger back to run it around your yearning hole, feeling the heat, the flesh, the wetness. I begin to engage my lips and tongue together, more focused on your clit now.

I can feel a rigidity starting in your body now. Subtle, but definately there. I changed up my finger now, sliding it inside, pressing it into the swollen bulge of your G spot. I can feel my finger press in, and feel you fill back out against my finger as I relax it. I start to gently press my finger into your G, then back against the back of you. Back and forth. You really start to tense up, and I can tell you're going to come. The hard thing to do now, is maintain the rythm and not go faster. I know you don't want me to change anything. I keep my pace. Your clit gets bigger - I know you're close. Your hands grip my arm. Your back arches up.

You see, another advantage to this position is that I can see your face. I look up as your first orgasm washes over you. I wish I still had my contacts in, but I can still see the happiness, the bliss, the serenity of your orgasm reflected in your face.

I keep at it until you put your hand to my head, then give you a tiny break by taking my lips off of your clit. I keep my finger in you, though, gently rubbing your G spot, which is even more swollen. A few seconds, then back, gently but insistantly, pressing my tongue back onto your clit, until you come again, only 10 or 15 seconds later. This one had a little ejaculation with it, I can taste the tart flavor of your squirt. I change up with my tongue to see what would happen. Now I'm just kind of smearing your clit around with my tongue, pushing it against your pubic bone. This time, it seems like you come really hard. Your back arched way up, your mouth was open, and your legs thrashed around. Too bad you had to be quiet. No Michael Bubble for cover noise.

I was hard as a rock. I didn't realize just how hard I was until your mouth slid around my cock. When your tongue swirled, it sent shock waves through my cock to my brain. My cock wanted to fuck you. My brain wanted to fuck you. Almost everything in between wanted to fuck you. Not my tongue. My tongue wanted to taste more of you. I lowered my already dripping face back down to your soppping wet pussy. I already had your juices running down my face, and a drip from my chin had hit my shoulder. But I needed more. More of your wetness. More of your flavor. Your come was all over you. It was on your legs, your ass, and your belly. I used my tongue to clean all of it. I stuck my tongue as far up into you as it would reach. The flavor was indescribably delicious. I got as much of my tongue into you as I possibly could, bathing it in your juices, while at the same time inhaling the aroma that hung around us like a cloud.

The aroma of your pussy.
Your sex.
Your orgasms.
Your cunt.
Your Ambrosia.

Oh, the fucking was hot. It was exhilirating. When I feel you coming around my cock, with those waves pulsing through your body, it makes me feel like I'm on top of the world.

What was hotter? When I effortlessly slid into you, I hadn't wiped my face off. I wanted to share it with you. I wiped my chin against your chest. My face against your face. And when you were coming, raking your nails across my back, my neck.

What was hottest? When you pushed your lips against mine, tongue in my mouth, and let me share your flavor with you.

Your Ambrosia.
Your exceptionally pleasing taste and smell.
Your especially delicious fragrance.
Your divine nectar, worthy of the gods.

Sharing your Ambrosia with you.
That was the hottest.

Sugasm #59

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My Addiction

My name is Peter, and I am an addict.

It started 20 years ago. I really expected it to lose its grip. No. Instead it tightens. It has me by the throat. It has my brain. It has my heart. It certainly has my balls.

In all honesty, I never set out to break the grip. I just expected that it would fade, losing its intensity like so many of life's other things. The first snowfall isn't nearly as thrilling as it once was. The sudden 1-day explosion of wild cucumber blooms isn't as shockingly sweet as the first one. The rain doesn't really feel as wet as it used to. The crack of thunder exploding right on top of me isn't quite as intense as it once was.

The sensations dull with time and repeated exposure. That's to be expected. All things lose their intensity as they become less and less new to us.

Well, most things, anyway.

Not this addiction. It continues to get
more thrilling
more sweet
more wet
more intense.

I don't know anyone else that suffers precisely such an addiction.

I'm addicted to Randi.

Addicted to her wit. To her hair. To her motherhood. To her skills.
Addicted to her brain. To her beauty. To her ass.
Addicted to our friendship. To our joy. To our life.
Addicted to her passion. To her athleticism. To her attitudes.
Addicted to her plans. To her neck. To her labia.
Addicted to her personality. To her scent. To her flavor.
Addicted to her writing. To her panties. To her gushing orgasms.
Addicted to her emerging, wet and naked, from the shower.
Addicted.

Anyone who knows me, knows of my addiction.
I don't hide it.
I don't hide from it.

I revel in it.
I thrive on it.
I often flaunt it.
I'm proud of it.

My name is Peter, and I'm an addict.
There's only one way I intend to deal with my addiction.
I intend to embrace it. To feed it. To grow it.

I will continue to revel in it.
I will continue to go in deep. Deeper.

Its like I'm on an island. An island that is warm, bright, and exciting.

Its supposed to be like a cave. A boring cave. Hollow, mildewed, cold. A cave where the only way to make it better is to get out. To go someplace else.

Fuck that.

How many people do you know that have been with 1 woman, the same woman, for 20 years, and have the best sex life of anyone you've ever known?

And getting better all the time.

The Sky chair.
The pocket rocket.
The triple bowline.
Twenty-four orgasms in one session. Not counting mine.

It surrounds me, my addiction.
It consumes me, my addiction.
It excites me, my addiction.
It feeds me, my addiction.
It renews me, my addiction.

Randi, my addiction is you.

Hump Day

I thought maybe it was a little late to start an involved sort of session, but I was so wrong.

So, where was I? Oh yes.

Spread-eagled, face down over some pillows that raised my hips, blindfolded, tied, Michael Buble in the headphones so loud and close it was like he was in my head. And the teasing began. Light at first, up and down my spine, tracing my buttocks, deliciously close to my pussy and then out and away again. If I could purr, I would have. More teasing, more tantalizing, a little more pressure, fingernails - just enough to be a little bit dangerous. Enough to make me wet. I imagined your tongue licking me and got even wetter. And the teasing went on.

How long did you stroke me, tickling up my inner thighs, around my mound, across my buttocks, along my sides? I could feel my skin prickling all over with goosebumps. "You were right," I said to the empty air. "There's no rush." Fuck me until 3 am, I thought. Who cares what's happening tomorrow - when we have to get up, what needs to be done? Just don't stop. More stroking and then licking - again you teased me - around my center, dipping closer. The first couple of orgasms soaked the towel beneath me. Delicious. But they weren't the earth-shakers. Not yet. I knew there was more to come.

More licking. Fuuuuck. It felt so good. I could feel my clit swelling under your tongue. And at some point I thought why the headphones? Why the blindfold? Did you bring someone else in? It was possible. I didn't think it was likely. But it was possible. And a little frightening. Just enough to heighten the anticipation. How many hands was I feeling, anyway? What or who was down against my ankle?

You pressed a toy into my pussy, opening me, stroking it into me. Were you licking my clit or sliding very wet fingers on it? It sure felt like licking. A kiss on my ass. But still working my clit. How were you licking and kissing at the same time? I felt a mouth on my ass, on the small of my back, a chest pressing against my pussy, grazing my rigid clitoris. A sense of urgency in the body behind me, sroking my sides, grasping my hips. It felt sexy. And still a little dangerous. I found myself gasping, tingling, panting.

I could feel the orgasm building, felt my feet lifting from the floor as my body grew rigid, fighting to meet the surge head-on, pulling against the ropes at my wrists like I was suspended or flying, climbing that wave, higher and higher until it crashed over me, soaking me, soaking you, soaking the bed beneath us, soaking the floor, my ankles getting wet. Such release.

And then you behind me, rubbing your cock in the molten pool of my pussy, sliding it into me, stroking into me. Those were your hands on me, no mistake. I felt another hot gush, knew it was flooding over your rigid cock, felt it splashing down beneath us. So good. A smack on my ass and some harder thrusting. Fuck yes. More please! And you obliged.

Yes! Harder! Thrust harder!

I felt you bucking against me, emptying into me. Another wave of lust rose within me and I was coming again as you finished. Another wave rocking me, bringing another flood of my juices as your cock slid out and brushed my clit. And then one more. Fuck, it was wet.

Happy Hump Day!

A Little More of the Story

Part I


She made a dash for the door and he followed. Turning, she smiled into his eyes and took the umbrella, then opened the door.

"Thank you," she said. She was a little breathless, but whether it was more from the running or from what she intended to do, she wouldn't have been able to say.

He smiled.

She leaned forward and kissed him, tasting the fresh rain on his lips. Then, taking his arm, she pulled him through the door after her. "Come out of the rain for a bit?"

She greeted the doorman, ignoring his poorly disguised look of surprise as she steered the man past the front desk and over to the elevator. The doors opened and a moment later they were alone inside.

Before he could say anything, she kissed him again -- first on the cheek, beside his mouth, tasting the cool raindrops -- then on the lips. He brought a hand to her face, slipped it around to cradle the back of her head, kissing along her jawline, down her neck, into the hollow where her neck met her shoulder, and she felt an intense heat building within her.

She placed one hand on his chest, feeling the irrhythmic rise and fall of it., and underneath, his heart pounding.

The elevator doors opened with a ding. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down the hall to her door, fumbled the key into the lock, and pulled him inside. Before she could rethink her decision, she began to unbutton her blouse.

"No, wait," he said. "Let me."

His voice was deeper than she'd expected; his enunciation precise. Her skin prickled into goosebumps.

He undid each button with an almost ritualistic care, while her breathing became even more rapid. After the last one, he paused for just a moment, then slowly drew the folds of her shirt apart. She heard his breath hiss between his teeth, and then he was bending forward, lips trailing across the top of each breast.

As she looked down at the back of the stranger's head bent forward in worship, her stomach clenched in anticipation and the delicious terror of the unknown. He could be anyone. She was suddenly aware of the moist heat between her legs, the swollen slickness there. She bent forward to kiss his neck, brought her hands to his face and raised it to her own.

Reaching back, she undid her bra, and with a shrug of her shoulders, it slipped to the floor between them. She moved her hands to his shirt, unbuttoning at first, then, impatient, rending the sides apart so that the last few buttons popped off and the shirt fell open. His chest was hot beneath her hands. She slid them back up to his neck, his face, pressing her breasts against him, feeling his heat against her body.

Digitalis

Foxglove.

It can cause blurred vision, weight loss, fatal disruptions of the heart, screaming orgasms.

I'm not recommending you ingest any form of the plant or take someone's heart medication. I'm referring to a techniqued shared with Peter. And can I just say, "yum!"?

The Rest of the Story

is coming soon.

I think this blog is going to take a newish direction -- more poetry and fiction. Hooray!

Not the Rest of the Story

Standing at the open window, I gratefully breathe in the cold November air. I exhale and watch as my breath plumes out into the darkness, imagining who might be outside, watching me, naked, in the glowing window. I'm hot and wet, my skin is flushed, my nipples and pussy still tingle, the insides of my thighs are slick with our juices.

No ropes tonight, no blindfold. Just you, me, a buzzing rocket and your fingers, sliding into me, pressing inside me, pinching my nipples, teasing, tickling, tracing my body, my face. They say that the seventh wave is the largest, but I think the eleventh was the clincher tonight. Your cock stroking in and out, your hand on my hip, my own on your ankle, holding on for dear life as I came on you again and again, almost bursting in ecstacy. You possessing my body and flowing into me, melding with me, becoming one with me.

Welcome home.

Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned

Here's the thing
I was just so alone that night in this sea of strangers
And there he was
Talking to me
Touching my hand
Making contact on some other, deeper plane
It was almost spiritual

He treated me like a goddess
Bringing offerings of champagne
Worshipping me with his eyes
His lips
His hands

The next thing I knew, really
We were out in the moonlight by the water
Naked
Without a thought
Or care
For consequences

Have you ever lived in the heat of the moment like that, Father?

I suppose not.

I hadn't either, to tell the truth.
Not once.
And it felt so good to just rip my inhibitions to shreds
And watch the winds of passion whip the tatters away.

Was the first sin when I let him look into my eyes and see my soul?
Or when I imagined how he'd feel inside of me?
Or when I made that decision to find out for real?
Or when I shrugged off my dress and let it slip to the grass?
Or when I undid his trousers?
Maybe it was when I grasped him and pulled him toward me
Or was it when I let him enter me, thrusting, crying out, filling me with holiness?
It had to be holiness
There's no other word.

It's funny how everything blurs together, Father, and there's no real
Hard
Defining line
No conclusive way of pinpointing the actual beginning
The true crossing over into sin.

So much of it is hazy, really.
I remember his shoes, though.
They were oddly distinctive.
In fact they were exactly like --
Father?
Forgive me, but I feel another sin coming on.

How Very Festive

2 yards of rubberized flannel with 40% off coupon - $16.00

Heater turned to (?) - No idea

Michael Buble mood setter/cover noise - $16 ish

Freedom to be a juicy as I want - Priceless

That was a very fun way to break in the new waterproof thinggy.

Michael Buble's voice makes me horny now - how very Pavlovian.

I'm going to finish that story eventually. Really.

So you didn't plan on sneaking in the back door? Just a moment of blind inspiration was it? I'd say the new thinggy was certainly properly anointed with holy water.

I feel slightly dehydrated.

Randi's Inferno

Good for the rum.

I would estimate the opening stanza of orgasms to approximate seven. How the hell *did* you come up onto your stomach? When you're laying on your back, that seems nearly impossible. Of course, you also came up my arm. That should have prepared me.

For quite some time now, you've been my dedicated tart. Over the years, you have grown as a Woman, Mother, Wife, and all-around Hot Wench.

Your inhibitions are in tatters. Only the barest shreds remain here and there - perhaps just one thin corner, barely intact, leaving the rest to flap wildly in even the gentlest of breezes. . .

Sever that last corner.

You see, my desire is twofold. First off, the higher your pleasure, the higher my pleasure. I've spoken of this before. When you assumed the position last night, I had a subtle sense that you were even more hungry than usual. A hunger to be taken. A hunger to be fucked. A hunger to be possessed by me and my cock.

I was wrong.

When you bent over the side of the bed, your position was ever so slightly different than ever before. Your pussy was calling me. There have been many, many times that I have been focused on that beautiful pleasure dispenser between your legs. But this time, it wasn't the same. Even though I was in the driver's seat, somehow, some way, your pussy was doing the fucking. It was reaching for me. Pulling me in. Keeping me in. It isn't possible, but it was like your pussy was reaching out from you and collecting my cock, my arousal, my consciousness. Your cunt consumed me last night. I know, because, you see, I was there. When your come squirted out during fucking, it didn't squirt onto me. I swear it squirted around me.

I was wrong, I realized. This time, you did not want to be possessed by me.

It was like I was being inhaled into your pleasure. Osmosing into your vagina, physically, mentally, spiritually. I have never in my life been sexually consumed like that. You were, quite simply, a pleasure predator last night.

This time, you possessed me.

But the main reason I want you to let go is for you. While you were in the throes last night, it was obvious. You were all about your pleasure. More than ever before. I wasn't in charge. Hell, you weren't even in charge. Randi's thirst for an intense, searing, sexual inferno was in charge.

Give in to the Pink side, Randi. I'll do my damnedest to keep up.

Yo Ho Ho. . .

Let's just say that rum and my libido have always been fast friends. Rum is what makes me Randi. There's something about my chemical makeup that embraces rum and turns it into a heady desire for sex, with no regard for consequences.

The first time I tried rum, I found myself in a position where I was ready to fuck the man across the table from me, regardless of the restaurant's other patrons. But not just the man across from me; the man beside me as well. Ever since then, I've known that drinking rum was akin to dancing with the devil, for me.

There's something to be said for dancing with the devil. Sometimes that opens you up to things you might not have felt comfortable trying before. Mostly it just means that you are allowing yourself to blame the devil for something you really wanted to do in the first place.

I had rum tonight, and let me just say, oh dear God, I love sex.

Not that I don't otherwise. No, indeed. I always love sex. Even when I'm not so much in the mood to start with it turns out that I still love sex. But oh, my.

Maybe I could blame it on the gorgeous day we had today. Maybe I could blame it on the fresh air and the great exercise we had before dinner. Maybe I could blame it on Peter's fanstastic food. Or I could just blame it on the rum, which seems the safest bet.

Whatever the case, I was Randi. Even though I'd fallen down on the job and not come up with anything clever for Sunday^3, (which is nice cuz then we still get to look forward to it on Monday) I was Randi. My rocket provided me with a number of juicy orgasms, the number of which I completely lost track. One went on and on and on - I don't even know how many peaks it had. It was literally a chain of unbroken orgasms. And it was bracketed by many more. My pussy was soaked, the towel under me was sopping, there were even juices up on my stomach somehow.

I finally deemed that it was Peter's turn, but let me tell you a secret. I had this desire to get my ass slapped. This is not generally me. At least not a me that I will admit to being, even to myself, so I was mildly surprised when I felt an urge for Peter to smack my ass while fucking me.

Damn!

I've always needed somewhat harsh physical stimuli. When we were kids, my sister liked backrubs but they drove me crazy because they were too tickly for me. Me, I had to have a brushing. A hairbrush, scraped down my back was what felt relaxing to me. Tonight, in my rum-induced Randi wench state, it was an ass-slapping I needed. After my uncounted number of delicious, pussy-drenching orgasms, I sucked Peter's cock a little greedily, before slithering off the bed and bending over it, positioning a pillow under my pelvis and raising my ass high in the air. Peter stood behind me and penetrated my wet pussy easily. I was incrediby aroused and my G-spot very swollen, so each time he slid into me and out again, it was inexplicably delicious. And then he began pumping a little harder.

I have to say that there is something about having Peter's strong hands firmly gripping my hips or waist that drives me wild. Somthing about that posessiveness, strength, and control. But tonight I wanted even more. A little of my brain still held back, but my friend Rum overpowered it and I grabbed Peter's right hand and brought it down on my ass with a nice, firm smack. Oh, it was good. But it wasn't enough. Fortunately Peter got the point immediately and gave me some more firm smacks. Fuck! - even better. A thick, hard cock driving deep into me, and a firm hand slapping me on the ass. Noises of urgency escaped me as Peter kept thrusting. I was worshiping facedwown at the altar of fornication and Peter served me the sacrament shortly thereafter.

My cup runneth over.

A Little Night Imagery

The steely streaks of cold rain were jabbing down the neck of her coat like splinters of ice. Hunching her shoulders up to her ears, she ran a little faster - not much; her heels wouldn't allow it.

"Oh, the hell with it," she growled, and stopped to kick them off. Just those few seconds allowed another wall of rain to sluice down her neck and back.

"Dammit!" she muttered, then, shoes in hand, she began to run in earnest.

She wove among the multitude of suddenly slower strangers blocking her way - each one a sodden pillar of anonymnity looming out of the downpour. Her bare feet slapped the pavement, splashing the puddles up around her knees, onto the people she passed. Heat began to build in her body and the icy rain lost its edge as her breath began to come a little harder, filling her lungs with a cleansing burn. God, how long had it been since she'd run like this? Years. Since she was just a kid. She'd forgotten how free she felt when running flat out - almost like flying. Her lungs hurt, but her legs felt too good to stop.

A large black shape loomed on her left, then moved over her head, and the rain's tune suddenly changed from splattering shower to hollow thrumming. She chanced a quick sidelong glance and saw a pair of eyes looking into her own - deep, dark, almost black, and sparkling with a secret mirth. She turned her face quickly forward to hide an answering grin, and ran on. The umbrella easily kept pace.

One block to her building. One block to think about how this could play out. But maybe he'd disappear before then. Maybe. Something in his eyes, though, made her think not.

Just ahead, a large puddle beckoned and before she'd had time to really think about it, she'd jumped in with both feet at once, soaking no less than 6 passersby with a spectacular wall of water. Dirty looks lasered toward her from all sides. Someone muttered "Crazy Bitch!" But another man stopped dead, sucked in by her gay abandon, wistfully watching this free spirit as she ran on and became lost in the crowd.

Her building loomed ahead now, and a good thing, too, because soon she might not be able to breathe anymore. And yet her self-appointed protector still ran beside her, seemingly effortlessly. She smiled a little secret half-smile to herself. Well, why not?

to be continued. . .

Damn! I Am Teh Pwn!!

Sweet!!

And it's really good, too. :)

Lovely, in fact, I have to say.

But it's Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. Lots of sex has come and gone since my last post, and more is in store for me even now. Some people are just going to bed, some people are just getting up, and I'm just getting ready.

Randi out. For now.

Waaaa!

My whole post - gone! Blogger sucks!

Ouroboros

Peter saw my Gchat tag this evening and assumed it was a request rather than a description. Sounded good to me! He ALSO had a very interesting package waiting. He said I could have it as a reward the next time I was naughty. Well!

By the time we headed off, I was rather bunsore from various athletic activities, so I asked him to massage my buns for a little bit. He asked whether I'd like to be naughty and I suggested that the rocket and Rita would allow for a decent show. Funny, because that's exactly what Peter had been thinking as well. Hooray!

My rocket needed a new battery. It's VERY important to keep fresh batteries in your rocket. When they lose their edge, it's just not the same. You might think it's wasteful, at first, to throw away a battery that still works, but I ask you, does it really work? I think the many, many orgasms will be well worth the 84 cents or whatever. Actually, I think they're less than that. But I digress.

Naughtiness was the order of the day - a personal show for Peter, who posititioned himself in prime viewing territory as I lay back and went to work. I could feel my clit swelling and my face flushing almost immediately. My cheeks and ears were burning, and my hips rose to bring my clit up harder against the vibe.

It was time for Rita before the rocket alone sent me over the edge. I knew that Peter really did want to watch while I penetrated myself with my favorite toy.

I lubed Rita up just a little. Really I probably didn't need to at all. I was slick and ready and the toy slid right in, oh so perfectly -- just the right texture, size, angle, everything - hitting that sweet spot until I couldn't stand it any more. I was able to hold out for longer than I expected, but then that first orgasm rolled over me with such a sweet relief of ecstasy, and I knew I'd have to have more. A second off, and then the vibe was back, bringing me around again, and again, and again. I figured it was Peter's turn and straddled him, facing away, then slowly lowered myself onto his swollen cock. The vibe was right there, and I was feeling greedy, so in no time at all, I was being rocked yet again, and again, and again, squirting my hot juices down on Peter, who, thankfully, loves this kind of treatment.

MMmm MMM it was too good to stop. Every time I'd get going, his cock would brush my G-spot and release another gush. I allowed myself a few more orgasms before getting down to business. But what with my taxed leg muscles and the angle at which I was sitting on Peter's peter, I kept losing it when I went for a nice, long stroke. So Peter had the great idea of trying out our new position, recently invented. In my mind I've been calling it "The Electrical Outlet" but I think tha t"The Ouroboros" is a better description. It's an infinite sex loop. I'm on my right side, Peter has one knee between mine, his dick inside of me, one finger in my ass, I'm curled around with a finger in Peter's ass. His pumping moves everything. Perpetual motion machine, infinite sex loop, whatever you call it, it is truly amazing. Peter and I both got even wetter from my come. And then Peter was climaxing, too - long, hard and deep inside of me. Ah, the satisfaction of a job well done. I had quite forgotten about my reward.

When I took the toys into the bathroom for a wash, Peter asked if I'd like my reward. Well, sure! It turned out to be THE COOLEST babydoll T-Shirt from my favorite movie, and a matching thong, to boot. REALLY funny considering a random tag I'd pulled out of my ass for chat recently. Wow! They rock! I'm a happy wench. I shall be wearing them tomorrow. Look for me.

PS, Peter has gotten some naughty, yet intriguing links from someone. More to come.

Good Vibrations

Found several things today, among them iBuzz attachments and Smitten Kitten biz cards (free shipping, yay!) Oh and a Good Vibrations catalog. A sign from the sex gods?

Last night was a great buzz, but today is Sunday Sunday Sunday, so I have no time to describe it.

These Shoes Aren't Made for Walkin'

Ask Natasha how those fucking shoes worked. And somehow show the self-restraint to refrain from buying these.



WTF??

Also WTF:


Consider a new side biz:

Buried Treasure and Surprises

I knew you'd have something special for me. Even as we were attempting to kick the shit out of each other tonight, I was imagining your cock in my ass. Does that surprise you? I have to admit that it surprised me just a little. Usually I don't have time to think about more pleasurable things when I'm trying to kick someone in the (upper) head.

But it didn't surprise me a bit, blindfold notwithstanding (double eyepatch if ye will, Arrr!) to find you probing my ass with The Fever shortly after I began pleasing myself for you with the buzzer, bottom raised high for your viewing pleasure. Nor did it surprise me to find that you had other toys in store for me as well. What did surprise me (just a little) was how very comfortable it was right from the start. And how fucking good it felt. Excuse my profanity, but it was fucking good.

It certainly didn't surprise me when, after a few orgasms, my juices let loose and began flowing down over my hand, though it did make holding that buzzer just a little tricky. Not enough for me to complain about, however. The heat of my juices, though, always surprises me.

It doesn't surprise me that my throat is always a bit raw after we fuck (or make love, depending on the day/time/moon.) And it doesn't surprise me that I'm still glowing right now.

It does surprise me, just a little, that we can still find new things to do after so many years. But it doesn't surprise me that we are comfortable enough to explore previously uncharted waters (Arrr! - Love the hair thing!)

It doesn't surprise me how much I still love you after a couple of decades together (17 yrs old?!?!? you naughty boy, in case you need reminding!) It does surprise me, maybe a little, that I'm still passionate about you - that you still turn me on so much that I want you inside of me desperately when we're making love. That's not how it's supposed to work is it? Good thing TV and pop culture is a load of shit. It doesn't surprise me that we can make love, but it does, a little, when I think about it, that we can still fuck like crazy.

I hope you read this at work and come home to give me another good fucking. Damn!

Booty Day

Arr, Matey! It's Plunderin' Day!

Methinks ye'll have somethin' special in store for me and my booty.

How Was It For You?

For a while there, I thought I might drop off. It was late, going on early, and I was feeling damn comfy. A little too comfy, you know.

I'm glad we made that bath. And I'm glad you had the Water Sprite ready to go. And I'm really glad that it works so well underwater. The first orgasm rocked me pretty hard, but the second, third and fourth were just as intense. I remember pushing against the sides of the tub with my feet, my hips seeming to thrust up of their own accord, straining toward that agony of ecstasy. Even sitting in water couldn't keep me from staying wet and ready for you when I climbed out.

But the way you took me, your hand on my back; the way you reached forward and wound the other into my hair and gripped while you were stroking into me; the way you angled yourself straight into my core, my heart, my soul. Is it any wonder I drenched the towel? After you emptied into me, is it any wonder that when you withdrew and slid your cock across my clitoris I came again with a gush? Is it any wonder that you are the best person I know, my raison d'etre, my universe, my love, my friend?

***

Sunglasses on
She thinks no one sees
Where her eyes stray
Turns her head the other way
Sneaking a glance
A lingering stare
Shifting to where
She can watch him
Just a little longer
Out of sight

***

Caught his eye
Turned her head
Looked right down
Turned bright red
Caught another
Looked away
It's not proper
To display
The kind of interest
That might show
Moving on now
Time to go
Caught another
Looked right through
Though not before
A sec or two
Getting bolder
(Trying to)
Can't flirt like
The others do
Caught one more
And held his stare
Normally
She wouldn't dare
Looked up more now
Glanced around
Kept her eyes up
Off the ground
Tried to hold
A glance or two
Tried a smile
Something new
She's progressing
Day by day
Improving at
The games we play

***

Like Aphrodite
She stands before the sun
A goddess in her own right
Rays of light streaming out
Around her golden body
Glinting on her hair
Thrusting between her legs
When she turns
Wreathed in power
And beauty

***

Note to Self

The hair thing. Blog it.

Another Fun Toy

Peter wanted me to post this as an HNT on my real blog. He's obviously on drugs. Actually, I don't know why I can bring myself to post some of those nipply ones and not this. Too personal, I guess. Or maybe I view it as a little too much of a walk on the wild side for most people's tastes.

***

The Pocket Rocket has been a favorite of mine, but I recently got a Water Sprite as a backup and holy shit if it isn't even buzzier! I think I may have actually worn a little skin off my clit over the last few days. Not sure, but maybe - looks like I might have, feels slightly sensitive. (Take a look?) I guess I'll have to come up with some sort of prevention for that. Like using it as intended in the water, perhaps.

But it was well worth it.


***

Reaching the tendrils of my soul out
Farther and farther
To grasp that elusive swell
Until finally
Eagerly
They entwine themselves around it
Caressing
Fondling
Firmly pulling it close against me
Into me
Through me

***

She sits there
Back to him
Silhouetted in the morning sun
Intent on her book
Not knowing that he sees her body
Stark
Curving
Through the backlit white blouse
Not dreaming
That the rise and fall of her breasts
Clenches his throat
As firmly as the fist
That will bring him
Panting
Gasping
Groaning
To release
As he pictures her
Alone in his bed

***

Creamy white flesh
Rising in smooth mounds
Falling in valleys and clefts
Tempting him to hardness
Quicker than he could have imagined

Firmly muscled arms
The thick dark hairs
An undeniable reminder of his masculinity
The sight of his hands
Enough to swell her, moisten her
Drive her to new heights of desire

Together they are light and dark
Soft and hard
Yin and Yang
In and out
Panting and Groaning
Blessing and purifying
And crying out their ecstasy together

FUCK!

To quote my favorite film:

Fucking... What the fuck? Who the fuck fucked this fucking... How did you two fucking fucks... FUCK!!!

Well, that certainly illustrates the diversity of the word.

;-)

Submission Party

Tonight I was invited to a Submission Party in honor of my recent submission of a short erotic story for publication. Quite a concept, isn't it? Here's a rundown of the evening so far:

Receive invitation (nice presentation, too)
Open instructions (which constitutes acceptance of all that lies within.)
Prepare myself by removing all hair from legs and pussy for my Master's inspection
Present myself for inspection (my Master has dressed in a tux and is drinking wine - mmmm)
Dress in the clothing he laid out for me on the bed
Apply makeup, perfume, fix hair in prescibed manner
Bring iBuzz to my Master and get it all set up
Write a short blog entry while listening to music/buzzing along

That's where I am right now.

There's plenty more fun to come, but that will be another post.

Next I will be ordering an ass tiara. I'm looking for something slightly sassier though. (and, uh, not plus-sized)

Fuck, Yeah!

Mmmmmm!

It feels SO GOOD to just let it all flow. And when we do this, oh, shit, it's so good. I completely soaked myself, you and the towel underneath us. It felt so amazing to be riding that swell and then just let the river wash over me, through me, and out from between my legs. I was coming for the 5th or 6th time - maybe more - I lost count. And then, when you emptied into me, it was the icing on the orgasmic cake. Fantastic.

I love that you help me edit my stories. I love playing with your cock when we're in the bath together. I love that we can be so comfortable together - you're my second skin - and yet so passionate. I love that we can make love, and I love that we can still fuck.

I was going to say something important, but you fucked me silly and I can't remember. Next time, perhaps. . .

Faccialo a me una nuova volta il mio amore

Here's what I loved about it

I loved your tongue probing my depths while I played with the vibrator on my clit.

Did you mind very much that your hands were tied?

I loved your thick cock sliding into me from behind, hard and heavy. I loved the intense buzzing on my swollen clitoris, and the feeling like I might burst on every outstroke.

I loved your hand on my waist, the other on the small of my back, protective, possesive, strong.

I loved it most when you fucked me hard, one knee up, foot flat on the bed to get in so deep I thought I might break inside, but feeling oh, so good.

And I loved when you eased out of me and brushed your hot, wet, swollen cock on my sensitive clit, releasing a stream of my hot juices.

Grazie il mio amore.

Toys and the Secret to the Multiple Orgasm

If I could only have 1 toy, I think it would have to be my pocket rocket. It's fast, efficient and feels soooooo good. My pocket rocket is what got me to regularly have many multiple orgasms. 24 consecutive Os is the record so far and no, I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't been there. In fact, I still find it a bit hard to believe.

Here's the secret, ladies:

When it feels too intense to go again, do it anyway. You're now on a hair trigger. You can go forever. The only reason I stopped when I did was because it was getting a bit ridiculous and I thought it was high time Peter had a turn. And of course by then my G-spot was incredibly swollen and Peter was able to trigger me several times as well, just stroking in and out. Ah, bliss.

So there you have it. If you haven't tried a pocket rocket, go for it. If you haven't tried powering through the over-sensitivity zone, go for it. Now there's a fun assignment!

Can I Have an Amen!

Well holy shit that was a fun interlude! How did it start? Let's see. . .

OK first off a lovely bubble bath, accompanied by Peter of course, while I read a book on tricks for pleasuring men. There weren't a lot of new ideas in there, but I did note 2 or 3. When we were ready to get out my eyelids were sweaty. I think that building up a high core temp really helps me keep from getting cold while we frolic. I'm one of those people that can get cold pretty easily otherwise.

During and after the bath, we were listening to "Tunes to Fuck By" and when I got out of the bath, Peter slowly dried my top, while moistening me down below by kissing and sucking on my neck, and generally worshipping my body with his hands and mouth. It was hot! And the music just made it even better. I couldn't resist a few nibbles in return and then we headed to the bedroom. The room was lowlit with candles and Peter had me get on my knees so he could buckle the fuzz-lined leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles while I sucked his cock and squeezed and stroked the "hidden" internal part of his cock up inside and behind his scrotum. Mmmmm. But all too soon he had me turn around with my ass facing him while he stood beside the bed.

Now things got even more interesting as Peter connected my wrist cuffs to the ankle cuffs, which he had actually fastened just below each knee. He had blindfolded me as well, and now, as he told me how he had been admiring my body earlier today, he slipped a small anal dildo into my ass and began stroking it in and out. Mmm hmmm. And then the lucite toy came into play. This one is bent in order to be able to reach the G-spot easily. It was getting a little awkward, angle-wise, so I turned on my back and - oh that was just right. I could just reach my clit with my right hand and it was very slippery, so I started rubbing it. Peter approved and told me that if I promised to come hard, he'd give me a vibrator to use. I was definitely ready for that, so he handed me my toy and it was soo intense that I came very quickly, but here's the thing: I didn't really stop. I just kept coming over and over. I have no idea how many times, but I needed more, so I kept using the vibe and he kept stroking away and I kept coming. Finally I could tell a big one was on the way and it just enveloped me. It was amazing.

Then it was Peter's turn. First, I got an ice cube and put it in my mouth, then went down on him. He said it wasn't nearly how he thought it would feel and that it was "interesting" and not bad. The ice cube melted all too soon with all that heat, so I moved on to stroking and licking until I was ready to ride him. I straddled him and began sliding up and down, but this made me start squirting. I drenched Peter's belly with come and still more came out. I really wanted him to fuck me by that time, so I asked him to do so and slipped off of his dick, then rubbed along his belly. More squirts. He stroked my clit and I came again all over his belly. Finally, he knelt behind me and entered me from behind, kneeling on only one knee, which allowed really deep penetration. He was fucking me hard at this point and that's exactly what I wanted. Somehow, he's never gone quite that deep before. There was one electric shock deep inside me as his cock thrust all the way to my cervix. That would have been impossible to tolerate more than one or two times, but his strokes became immediately shorter as he emptied his cock into me. All in all a very satisfying evening!

A Few Sex Notes

Let's talk about blindfolds a little bit. Maybe you associate blindfolds with S&M or B&M or just superkinks, but blindfolds are a superb ingredient for the sex toolbox of a regular person. I find that a blindfold is a wonderful way to remove inhibitions and add a little spice to your lovemaking. Use it on yourself and you're more focused on what you're feeling rather than - oh, look, there's a spider on the wall -- a really BIG one, or that light is so bright in my eyes. It also adds an element of surprise - what IS he putting in there? What's going to happen next? Put it on him and you are freed of all concerns about how you might look when you're doing something, how your body feels, what expression is crossing your face. So maybe you put a blindfold on him, tie him to the bed and ride him. That's always fun. And you can play with your clit while you ride without feeling self-conscious in the least.

I mentioned female ejaculation earlier and this might be a good time to go into that a little more. I've talked about this with other women and a lot of us have very similar experiences. The most common precursor to female ejacutation is a feeling similar to having to pee. We get all revved up and the intensity is very high and then there's this "gotta pee" feeling - very similar, but not quite the same - and then, if you're relaxed enough, this wonderful release of warmth - more HOT than warm- flooding out of you. There are a number of ways we have figured out it's not pee. Mainly that it doesn't *smell* like pee and that we can still pee (sometimes copiously) after ejaculating during sex. But it can be a little freaky when you're getting used to it. Teach your man about the joys of female ejaculation, put down some towels, and let 'er rip! I found that when I discovered how much Peter enjoyed my ejaculations I relaxed even more about it. I hadn't realized I'd been holding back, but when I went for it and actively tried to ejaculate more, I became multiply orgasmic for the first time in my life. Now it's become a pretty normal thing for me. And that, as I'm sure Martha would say, is a good thing.

Sex is So Damn Fun!

Why is it that the same thing can be so damn exciting and exhilarating every time? Why doesn't it get old? Why does the heart beat race, the blood rush, the breathing quicken every time like it's the sexiest encounter in the world?

Who cares! I'm just glad it does.

OK a little more about the lingerie show. It really was a great feeling not being ashamed of my body. I've lost a bunch of weight just recently, and that combined with regular, strenuous exercise has left me pretty fit, so while I was modeling for Peter, I was feeling pretty comfortable about myself. Maybe some of that has come with age. Does being in your 30s make you mature enough to accept non-"perfection?" Maybe I should post a pic with my head cropped out. But my room might show up in my other blog, and I'm not ready for any connections to be made.

Arching towards ecstacy
Reaching
Reaching out with every fiber of your being
Blood racing
Breath ragged
Everything concentrating just there
Until the wave lifts
Carries you out past the edge
Rolling over you
Crashing down on top of you
Smashing you into shuddering spasms
Washing you away

Picture This

My surprise for Peter last night was a lingerie photo shoot with him as the cameraman. That went over well and we both had a good time. I started with a skirt (no panties of course) and sheer black cami. (The kind you can use a "torch" on - or a flash, as it turns out ;o) ) and moved on to an assortment of silk chemises and a g-string with said sheer cami. After that it was time to play on the bed and in the chair. I resurrected the cuffs from the night before since he had enjoyed them so much. Remembered to protect the chair, but forgot the towel on the floor. Oops!

A Swinging Good Time

I'm starting out with a somewhat clinical approach to descriptions here because it doesn't feel quite so personal. This isn't really designed as a one-handed-read sort of blog. Not that I mind if it works for you, just be aware that there are going to be interruptions to the flow of things. Also because it's embarrassing to write about something in descriptive language and then have a bunch of people laugh at you or tell you your writing sucks. Or even to just have them sitting there thinking it. Even if they are wanking off while they do it.


Last night was very entertaining. Peter* decided to keep me in the dark about the plan until the action started, so we started out in the tub with a lovely Amber something (Yankee somethingorother, go smell one at Bed Bath & Beyond - nice and exotic and sexy) candle burning while we read various smutty books. Peter was reading Erotic Interludes: 21 Tales of Ultimate Pleasure, and I started out with Captive Secret (?), which turned out to be too rough for my taste (Peter's too as it turned out) so I went on to one from Black Lace that's quite good. It's called Ginger Root and is about a woman working in an art house (gallery? - I don't know. Come on, I'm reading this for the set-up and the sex, OK?)

We moved on to the hanging chair. I guess I'll share at this point that I am one of those ejaculating women. No it's not pee, yes it's OK, yes it feels *good*, and thank the gods Peter finds it a turn-on. If you are an ejaculating woman you'll know that this can get messy. Maybe you have some tips to share. I use a rubberized flannel crib mattress protector with a towel on top for absorbency. Maybe that's not sexy, but it saves our chair. I also use a towel on the floor underneath. There can be quite a lot depending on how many times it happens.

Anyway.

Peter put a blindfold on me and spread some Liquid Silk on my clitoris (if that word bothers you, it's time to leave now and never return) then handed me what I could feel was a vibrator that we haven't used very often yet. My favorite is a little pocket vibe with rounded metal nubbies on the end. This was more of a wand type with a bulbous end - not phallic, but one of those things they sell in New Age catalogs as women's personal massagers or whatever. It has 4 settings: fast, not so fast, slow, and pulse. I set it to fast and used it on my clit, which felt truly lovely, while Peter knelt in front of me and inserted a small butt plug. (OK, I said butt plug. And it made me cringe just a little. Using them is one thing. Saying the words is quite another.) He then licked me while I used the vibe, which resulted in a nice double O for me. This is where things got different. Peter had slipped two big metal rings onto the upper cross bar of our chair. Now he strapped some soft leather cuffs on my wrists and secured them to (through? I don't know. I was blindfolded, remember?) the metal rings.

I scooched back in the chair a bit to keep the plug in and Peter then proceeded to fuck my brains out. Stop complaining. I warned you that I was going to say fuck. I may have had another orgasm in there. I'd had a few glasses of wine, and I can't remember clearly. At any rate, it felt amazing! After he came and when he withdrew, I had another orgasm and ejaculation. That's been happening lately on withdrawal. Bonus!

I learned 2 things:
1) I didn't mind being tied up. For a while I went through a phase where I thought I might, but I'm past that. 2) Peter really liked having me tied up. We'd used these once before, on the bed, but the effect in the chair was different. Peter found it a turn-on that he could see the cuffs. He's still basking today.

Tonight I have something else planned, but I'm not blogging it until later because Peter will likely be reading this, too, and it's a surprise.

*Name changed to protect the guilty.

Here's where I take a big breath and hit the post button.

Caveat Lector

This blog is about sex; creative, married sex. Married sex has a bad rap in the media. The standing joke is that married women don't like sex, don't have sex, and certainly don't have creative sex. That's such a crock! Maybe this will help put a dent in that myth. Maybe not. Maybe no one will ever read this. But at least I'll be writing about it and if I want to try something again but can't remember all the details, I'll have a reference blog of my own: the RandiSutra.

Be warned:

I will be talking about sex. I may mention genitalia. I will probably say the word "fuck." If you're looking for a sleazy blow by blow (ha!) description of my sex life, that's probably not going to happen. If you spam me, you'll be deleted and I will call down the fire of the gods and goddesses upon you. If you give me good suggestions (serious ones) I will request that the deities bless you.

If you have creative, married sex and a blog of your own, I will link you in my sidebar if you like.

This will not be a complete representation of my sex life. I will probably have plenty of non-blogged sex. This is a place for creativity, so if I have a inspired session, or suddenly channel a poem from outer space, it will likely find its way into the blog.