Friday, July 10, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
This really is not a porn site,
but I do find myself thinking and therefore writing about sex a lot. Big Papa tried like hell to have sex last night. I knew he wanted it for about an hour before he finally started touching me. I wasn't really in the mood (shocking) but I figured, what the hell if he touches me long enough and says the right things I'm sure my mind can be changed.
BIG PROBLEM. My mind kept wandering to Mr. Beautiful. How would he touch me? What would he smell like? Then (being the absolute horrible person that I am) I tried to just close my eyes and pretend Big Papa was Mr. Beautiful. No go. Not only could I not make the mental switch, the fact that it was not Mr. Beautiful pretty much turned me off.
Has Mr. Beautiful ruined me??? I'm sure he as not, I am sure this is just a temporary side effect but still....
I suppose I should complete the story to say that he finally managed to find the right spot to turn me off enough to decided to do the deed. But that is all it really felt like, a deed. I did get off, but again I think I probably just owe that to myself. Shit.
BIG PROBLEM. My mind kept wandering to Mr. Beautiful. How would he touch me? What would he smell like? Then (being the absolute horrible person that I am) I tried to just close my eyes and pretend Big Papa was Mr. Beautiful. No go. Not only could I not make the mental switch, the fact that it was not Mr. Beautiful pretty much turned me off.
Has Mr. Beautiful ruined me??? I'm sure he as not, I am sure this is just a temporary side effect but still....
I suppose I should complete the story to say that he finally managed to find the right spot to turn me off enough to decided to do the deed. But that is all it really felt like, a deed. I did get off, but again I think I probably just owe that to myself. Shit.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
He was a Hawaiin Father of three
and he was beautiful. It was also the absolute shortest love affair I have ever had. I owe it all to Michael Jackson, or his death anyways. We (Mr. Hawaii and I) were arguing back and forth on facebook about Mr. Jackson's legacy. I happened to have Mr. Hawaii's cell number because he had very randomly texted me a few days before. When the debate became too heated for FB, I decided to text him.
The debate died quickly as he revealed, "I had the hots for ya" fifteen years ago. I was oblivious to this then. I didn't really even think he knew my name. Sigh. And so the flirting continued and grew in intensity. He was impressed with my uninhibited-ness (totally made that word up). I knew I was turning him on and I loved it. Both being married, we clarified that this was just flirting and and an innocent outlet, and we both meant it. We pushed the envelope a few times but never quite got to full "cybering" (what do you call it if it is through texts versus online?). No joke there were probably 200 texts exchanged that day.
The next morning I was anxious to contact him again. The day before was the best I had felt in a while. I of course had now thoroughly scoured his FB page and photos. I avoided any with his beautiful wife in them as I do know her and she is as sweet as pie. Don't get me wrong, I had no visions of destroying a happy home, but guilt never the less abound. We talked some that day, it was nice.
I knew that he would be working a midnight shift that weekend and looked forward to the opportunity to talk at length and discover more about him. At this point it was still pretty much purely sexual. Midnight came and I hoped to hear from him and did not. I caved and texted him first, "Hey".
He was surprised to hear from me. Was he too not hoping for the chance to talk? We exchanged niceties when he mentioned something about being frustrated. I inquired. He expressed his desire to "fuck (me) like Zorro" but was frustrated because he knew he couldn't. Talk about instant wetness. A few more exchanges and I revealed that Big Papa had cheated on my in a most crushing way last year. Mr. Hawaii was generally sorry for my torture. Then suggested I be so mad that I send nipple pictures. Attempting to take things slow, I declined. Suddenly the beautiful man asked me what my four "lonely sounds" were. I was going to ask him what he meant or why he asked, but for some reason, I was certain I knew exactly what he meant. My response:
1. The sound you hear when you are under water (one of my favorites)
2. The sound you hear when you turn your ignition off, but linger in your car a few minutes
3. My "lonely" playlist on my MP3 player (I actually have one)
4. Crickets at night
I clarified that while crickets at night was a sound I categorized as lonely, I much rather preferred to enjoy them with someone on a dark summer night.
Mr. Beautiful Hawaii gave his:
1. Wolves howling at the moon
2. How is it possible I don't remember number two?? Put down the bowl Mrs.258
3. The sound a tractor trailer makes barreling down the freeway
4. A train or train whistle
Then he began with a lovely view. "Picture this, I'm laying here under the bright moon..." and then he stopped and added "I'm too old for this".
No please don't stop Mr. Beautiful. Don't you know that I want to lay in that field under that bright moon and rest my head upon your chest with my hair surrounding you? What else can I know about you? What are your happy sounds? What scares you? What usually runs through your head before you nod off?
Shit. He was stirring something in me. This was not the plan. Just fun sex talk, right? Why do I want to lay with him so badly?
The phone rings. It's him. It's Mr. beautiful. I answer nervously. We talk but I can sense how nervous he is. I run my mouth about Big Papa's infidelity, not what I needed to talk about at that moment (why did I do that??). I tell Mr. beautiful that he sounds nervous. He says he is not nervous about talking with me, he is nervous about sleeping with me. My stomach drops (and I get wetter). Knowing my boundaries, I tell him I would never let that happen. He says that makes him nervous too. Blood rushes to all sorts of great places in my body.
Soon he ends the conversation. I'm not really sure why. We could talk night if we wanted to. He must not want too.
Fast-forward to today. Three nights after the phone call and 5 (or 6?) days since the texting began. He has clarified that he wants to keep things strictly platonic because he is married and because he has three precious children. I understand and honestly agree. It is the right thing for sure. I know it is the right thing because since Big Pappa has cheated, I have had three separate men offer to help me pay him back (fuck me). I enjoyed flirting with these men to a point, but the interest wasn't there and I knew I would never break my vows that I took in front of my family, friends, and God. But you know what? I really didn't even want too. And any communication I had with those three men were never more than flirting (on my part anyways). I never thought about them if I wasn't speaking with them. I never once wondered what it would be like to actually be with them. With Mr. Beautiful on the other hand, I felt this incredibly odd, strong, almost instant connection to. I will never know if his decision to back-off was because he sensed my connection and wanted to get the hell out of dodge as quickly as possible, or if he sensed it and felt it too.
Either way, he is an incredible man.
PostScript: This has of course, made me look at my marriage. I worry that I don't feel that connection with Big Papa anymore and how long it has been since I have. Does he feel it with me? Ever? Can we get it back? I need to try.
The debate died quickly as he revealed, "I had the hots for ya" fifteen years ago. I was oblivious to this then. I didn't really even think he knew my name. Sigh. And so the flirting continued and grew in intensity. He was impressed with my uninhibited-ness (totally made that word up). I knew I was turning him on and I loved it. Both being married, we clarified that this was just flirting and and an innocent outlet, and we both meant it. We pushed the envelope a few times but never quite got to full "cybering" (what do you call it if it is through texts versus online?). No joke there were probably 200 texts exchanged that day.
The next morning I was anxious to contact him again. The day before was the best I had felt in a while. I of course had now thoroughly scoured his FB page and photos. I avoided any with his beautiful wife in them as I do know her and she is as sweet as pie. Don't get me wrong, I had no visions of destroying a happy home, but guilt never the less abound. We talked some that day, it was nice.
I knew that he would be working a midnight shift that weekend and looked forward to the opportunity to talk at length and discover more about him. At this point it was still pretty much purely sexual. Midnight came and I hoped to hear from him and did not. I caved and texted him first, "Hey".
He was surprised to hear from me. Was he too not hoping for the chance to talk? We exchanged niceties when he mentioned something about being frustrated. I inquired. He expressed his desire to "fuck (me) like Zorro" but was frustrated because he knew he couldn't. Talk about instant wetness. A few more exchanges and I revealed that Big Papa had cheated on my in a most crushing way last year. Mr. Hawaii was generally sorry for my torture. Then suggested I be so mad that I send nipple pictures. Attempting to take things slow, I declined. Suddenly the beautiful man asked me what my four "lonely sounds" were. I was going to ask him what he meant or why he asked, but for some reason, I was certain I knew exactly what he meant. My response:
1. The sound you hear when you are under water (one of my favorites)
2. The sound you hear when you turn your ignition off, but linger in your car a few minutes
3. My "lonely" playlist on my MP3 player (I actually have one)
4. Crickets at night
I clarified that while crickets at night was a sound I categorized as lonely, I much rather preferred to enjoy them with someone on a dark summer night.
Mr. Beautiful Hawaii gave his:
1. Wolves howling at the moon
2. How is it possible I don't remember number two?? Put down the bowl Mrs.258
3. The sound a tractor trailer makes barreling down the freeway
4. A train or train whistle
Then he began with a lovely view. "Picture this, I'm laying here under the bright moon..." and then he stopped and added "I'm too old for this".
No please don't stop Mr. Beautiful. Don't you know that I want to lay in that field under that bright moon and rest my head upon your chest with my hair surrounding you? What else can I know about you? What are your happy sounds? What scares you? What usually runs through your head before you nod off?
Shit. He was stirring something in me. This was not the plan. Just fun sex talk, right? Why do I want to lay with him so badly?
The phone rings. It's him. It's Mr. beautiful. I answer nervously. We talk but I can sense how nervous he is. I run my mouth about Big Papa's infidelity, not what I needed to talk about at that moment (why did I do that??). I tell Mr. beautiful that he sounds nervous. He says he is not nervous about talking with me, he is nervous about sleeping with me. My stomach drops (and I get wetter). Knowing my boundaries, I tell him I would never let that happen. He says that makes him nervous too. Blood rushes to all sorts of great places in my body.
Soon he ends the conversation. I'm not really sure why. We could talk night if we wanted to. He must not want too.
Fast-forward to today. Three nights after the phone call and 5 (or 6?) days since the texting began. He has clarified that he wants to keep things strictly platonic because he is married and because he has three precious children. I understand and honestly agree. It is the right thing for sure. I know it is the right thing because since Big Pappa has cheated, I have had three separate men offer to help me pay him back (fuck me). I enjoyed flirting with these men to a point, but the interest wasn't there and I knew I would never break my vows that I took in front of my family, friends, and God. But you know what? I really didn't even want too. And any communication I had with those three men were never more than flirting (on my part anyways). I never thought about them if I wasn't speaking with them. I never once wondered what it would be like to actually be with them. With Mr. Beautiful on the other hand, I felt this incredibly odd, strong, almost instant connection to. I will never know if his decision to back-off was because he sensed my connection and wanted to get the hell out of dodge as quickly as possible, or if he sensed it and felt it too.
Either way, he is an incredible man.
PostScript: This has of course, made me look at my marriage. I worry that I don't feel that connection with Big Papa anymore and how long it has been since I have. Does he feel it with me? Ever? Can we get it back? I need to try.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Flooded Basement
or at least that's what I told my boss. I just couldn't deal with work today. I woke up late (typical) and layed around for a while trying to come up with an excuse as to why I was late. The best I could come up with was that my basement was flooded and I was waiting for Big Papa to come home. The attitude my boss gave me prompted me to declare a mental health day.
So now I have an entire day with no children, no Big Papa, and no work. I certainly have lots to do to fill my time though. Will I fill it productively? So far I have done a lot of work on an upcoming wedding I am the event planner for (small side business, more on that later), opened a much needed bank account, and um, ate lunch.
I feel like I fail myself and it drives me crazy. I have all sorts of goals that I can never seem to reach and the pissa of the whole matter is that they are really the same handful of goals. So why can't I just set a reasonable plan and attack it? I am lazy, I am weak, I enjoy misery (not sure whether to put a period or question mark here)....
Let's - for the millionth time - list them.
1. Lose weight/get in shape - yes I know almost everyone says this, but I seriously need to do it. I am just completely unhappy with myself and I think that it affects so many other parts of my life. My confidence sucks, and I think I could cruise along life a lot better with more confidence. I just love food and am lazy. Anyhow, I digress.
2. Create and maintain a reasonable schedule - This is so stupid. I go to bed too late, sleep way too late. Don't have good healthy habits and just need to decide to do it.
3. Get a hold of our finances - way to complicated to dive into right now (lazy much???)
4. Organization! - Sort of along the same lines as number 2 but further involved.
5 Be more artsy - I love to be artsy, this blog is a good start but there are more needs!
Ok I am too distracted to complete this post now, but I'll finish later.
So now I have an entire day with no children, no Big Papa, and no work. I certainly have lots to do to fill my time though. Will I fill it productively? So far I have done a lot of work on an upcoming wedding I am the event planner for (small side business, more on that later), opened a much needed bank account, and um, ate lunch.
I feel like I fail myself and it drives me crazy. I have all sorts of goals that I can never seem to reach and the pissa of the whole matter is that they are really the same handful of goals. So why can't I just set a reasonable plan and attack it? I am lazy, I am weak, I enjoy misery (not sure whether to put a period or question mark here)....
Let's - for the millionth time - list them.
1. Lose weight/get in shape - yes I know almost everyone says this, but I seriously need to do it. I am just completely unhappy with myself and I think that it affects so many other parts of my life. My confidence sucks, and I think I could cruise along life a lot better with more confidence. I just love food and am lazy. Anyhow, I digress.
2. Create and maintain a reasonable schedule - This is so stupid. I go to bed too late, sleep way too late. Don't have good healthy habits and just need to decide to do it.
3. Get a hold of our finances - way to complicated to dive into right now (lazy much???)
4. Organization! - Sort of along the same lines as number 2 but further involved.
5 Be more artsy - I love to be artsy, this blog is a good start but there are more needs!
Ok I am too distracted to complete this post now, but I'll finish later.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
I Find Myself
debating with myself more and more often lately. The most recent question was, "Are women who truly enjoy sex, whores?". As a female and one who really really enjoys sex, I snap my head and shout, "No!". Because I am in no way a whore. Well, I guess that would depend on who you ask.
I have had my share but not over-abundance of partners. I have experimented with all sorts of different "kinks". I have zero problem with initiating sex or being pissed off if I am denied. I love to role play and talk dirty. I do have boundaries though. I know enough about fairly mainstream fetishes (is that an oxymoron?) to know that I am in no means a freak. I no my boundaries but I love to push the envelope on them, you know?
Early this evening, my husband (Big Papa) and I were getting it on. I, of course, initiated it. I was teasing him as he began to unbutton my shirt and pushed his hand away and asked him what kind of girl he thought I was. Now mind you, my hands were below the belt, if you catch my drift. This went on for a little while and I asked again, "don't you think I am a good girl?". He laughed and then hesitated. "Sure". Then I asked if he thought I was a a whore and he replied, "ummm, well, no, not really". WTF!!! I sort of let is pass so we could just continue with the deed and not ruin the moment, but later as I clean myself up from some really over the top amazing sex, I started to question myself. Maybe I am a whore. I mean I really love sex. I have great sex. Why wouldn't I love it? But why do I have great sex? Because I love it and won't settle for sub-standard performances.
And then it hit me as I looked at myself in the mirror while I washed my hands. It isn't necessarily great sex that I have, but great orgasms. I know how to get myself really turned on, let myself come to the brink a few times and then when I can't possible resist anymore I enjoy a full-body, earth-shattering orgasm. But did I really even need Big Papa for it? What did he do to contribute to its greatness other than provide the equipment? In fact, I attempted many times (as usual) to talk dirty to him and in an attempt to get him to reciprocate, ask him lots of questions. His answers are always one word. Blah, what a turn off. I want him to get really into it and start just speaking with out thinking because he is just past the point of thinking and can only feel now. Sigh, but he just isn't into pushing the great limits that you can with sex. He is probably pretty much OK with average. As long as he gets off then all was good. Doesn't he realize he could get off even harder and more intense. And even more have such a tantric sexual experience that the entire thing feels like one amazing orgasm.
We've been married for over seven years.
I have had my share but not over-abundance of partners. I have experimented with all sorts of different "kinks". I have zero problem with initiating sex or being pissed off if I am denied. I love to role play and talk dirty. I do have boundaries though. I know enough about fairly mainstream fetishes (is that an oxymoron?) to know that I am in no means a freak. I no my boundaries but I love to push the envelope on them, you know?
Early this evening, my husband (Big Papa) and I were getting it on. I, of course, initiated it. I was teasing him as he began to unbutton my shirt and pushed his hand away and asked him what kind of girl he thought I was. Now mind you, my hands were below the belt, if you catch my drift. This went on for a little while and I asked again, "don't you think I am a good girl?". He laughed and then hesitated. "Sure". Then I asked if he thought I was a a whore and he replied, "ummm, well, no, not really". WTF!!! I sort of let is pass so we could just continue with the deed and not ruin the moment, but later as I clean myself up from some really over the top amazing sex, I started to question myself. Maybe I am a whore. I mean I really love sex. I have great sex. Why wouldn't I love it? But why do I have great sex? Because I love it and won't settle for sub-standard performances.
And then it hit me as I looked at myself in the mirror while I washed my hands. It isn't necessarily great sex that I have, but great orgasms. I know how to get myself really turned on, let myself come to the brink a few times and then when I can't possible resist anymore I enjoy a full-body, earth-shattering orgasm. But did I really even need Big Papa for it? What did he do to contribute to its greatness other than provide the equipment? In fact, I attempted many times (as usual) to talk dirty to him and in an attempt to get him to reciprocate, ask him lots of questions. His answers are always one word. Blah, what a turn off. I want him to get really into it and start just speaking with out thinking because he is just past the point of thinking and can only feel now. Sigh, but he just isn't into pushing the great limits that you can with sex. He is probably pretty much OK with average. As long as he gets off then all was good. Doesn't he realize he could get off even harder and more intense. And even more have such a tantric sexual experience that the entire thing feels like one amazing orgasm.
We've been married for over seven years.
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