A letter to Ugly

Note: This letter, while in response to a post an anonymous post at Molly's Daily Kiss called I am Ugly, is something I think any woman may need to read at some point. This is to all of us, when we feel 'ugly.'

Dear Ugly,
You are not alone. You may feel alone, but that does not mean that you are alone in your experience. Despite the wide reaches of the internet, its still possible to feel very lonely. Please hear me out as a sister of your suffering.

You and I are very similar.

I am also overweight. You are nearly 50 lbs overweight, I am over 90 lbs according to the published BMI ranges for my height. It's not a fun place to be. Some days its hard to look in the mirror. Your fat jeans become your normal jeans. And then your new fat jeans are the next size up and you can't believe you've jumped another size. Getting back to where you were seems like a hard, dangerous road. It's long, lonely, and difficult.

I also have too much hair on my body. I have PCOS, which means I have way more testosterone in my body than a woman should. I pluck every day to keep my chin hair, neck hair, mustache hair, and eyebrow hairs in check. I don't do a good job at it. I hate it when my lover notices if I missed a hair. Sometimes my facial hair grows really long, just one long strand on my face that is invisible until my lover tries to brush it away only to realize its connected. I have a happy trail I have to shave away. I have so much pubic hair I have to shave or wax or I get rashes from all the hair and the sweat it retains from the day. If I don't shave my legs every day, you can see it. I have more underarm hair than my male lover. I have to pluck hair from my nipples. I have hair on my toes, so much so that both lovers in my life have called me "hobbit." I struggle every day with my hair.

I have ugly stretch marks all over my thighs and stomach from two periods of depression in my life where I gained weight so fast. Now they won't go away. If a swimsuit is humiliating, then a swimsuit with long stretch marks down your thighs is even more so, because I'd have to wear men's shorts to hide them. So I stopped swimming.

Like you, I had a lover who found my body useful for sex but found parts of it unattractive. He didn't want whole parts of me. The sex was awful and I dreaded it. He gave me compliments, but the words were flat, empty, and meaningless. They were tokens of something that wasn't there. I tried to call him on it, but it just caused problems.

So, Ugly, we are not that different. In some ways, we live and have lived the same life. But that is where the similarities end.

Unlike you, I do not think I am ugly. In fact, I've found that I'm a beautiful person. I'm more round that I'd like to be, but I have beautiful breasts (saggy though they may be as DDs) and a big ass (cellulite, hairy ass crack, and all). I may have lots of hair, but its a nice brown color where I don't remove it. My body is high maintenance. My skin is always dry and my scalp is flaky no matter what products I use. I just make the best of it.

But I like my body. I try to take care of it. Even though I'm overweight I won't give up trying to lose that weight, even if PCOS makes it harder for me.

I found confidence by looking in the mirror and making myself say one positive thing about myself ten times each day. Even now I look in the mirror and remind myself how pretty my eyes are. I joined twitter and blogging and saw that there were women whose bodies were similar to mine that many (not everyone) though was beautiful.

That's the beauty of this world. There are so many types of bodies with all sorts of features; everyone has an admirer. If you don't believe me, go browse porn or tumblr. The variety is greater than I ever imagined.

But here's the biggest difference between us: how you treat yourself and see yourself tells others how to treat you. It is not your fault that you lover and partner is a complete asshole when it comes to showing affection towards you. It is, however, your fault for letting it continue as long as it has.

Relationships have ups and downs and attraction and frequency of sex may change through the years, but there is never an excuse for a partner to not comfort you, not look after your emotional well being, and to make sure you are pursued and loved.

That is betrayal. You think that another could never find you attractive. You're doomed to a life alone and unwanted. Who doomed you to such a fate? There is no wicked witch in this lifetime. Only you could choose that future -- so why are you so resigned to take it? There is another option.

You can find a new future. It can be whatever you want. I broke off a 6 year marriage and 9 year relationship with my former lover. He was my first kiss, my first everything. He broke my heart. I was right there in your shoes, willing to live and die because I promised I would always stay. But what about his promise? Didn't he promise to love and cherish also? Isn't that promise just as broken when my heart is in pieces? Did I promise to stay with in unhappy, unfulfilled life no matter what? No.

You don't have to stay in this. You have a say in whatever happens to you. You can be resigned to your life of not being appreciated for who you are, but I promise you there is someone out there who would love you and appreciate you more for who you are. They would love every part of your body, flabby, fat, hairy, or not.

I certainly found one. And he loves every single hairy, flabby, stretched mark part of me. He loves those parts of me so much I've cried during sex from the powerful emotions.

And to think I almost never knew because I was almost too scared to think I deserved better.

You deserve better, too. You deserve more credit from yourself but just as importantly, you deserve better from your lover. I hope you find that confidence and that partner, whether its from your current husband or someone new.

All my support and cheerleading,
The other you

Best Saturday of my life

If you haven't seen the big news that popped up over the weekend for us, here it is again:

We're engaged!

This wasn't planned, although if you're a reader of this blog, you can safely assume it hasn't been unexpected. We've always discussed marriage as a goal to this relationship: if we get there. Only 5 months into the relationship, he called me "Mrs ____" during sex, so we started the rule. As we approached our first year anniversary, we took another look at the rule and realized it was still relevant. Just a month or so ago, we realized the rule no longer existed, but things were just "waiting." 

Well, wait over!

We had talked rings and timing briefly -- As in, what I liked and wanted in a ring and if we were ready to really make this official. He's been ready for a while, but I really didn't want to become engaged until it had been a year and a half for us - so, in December or later seemed fine. 

Late last week, while texting me at work, he suggested we have a date night this weekend. We haven't had one in a while - months really - and I was so excited to do it. We planned a dinner and a movie: he could pick the movie and I would pick the restaurant. Now, we live together so we always eat and watch movies together. But we still make special times for dates out where we pay extra attention to what we wear, where we eat, and take a break from life.

Saturday was an excellent day. I woke up feeling very warm arms wrap themselves around me, and light kisses planted on my shoulder. My mind started to wake up and he said, "Morning my love. You are so beautiful, so sexy, so pretty, so smart, and so hardworking. I love you so much." I smiled and nestled back into him, feeling his soft dick fall in between my ass cheeks. He snuggled me and held me close.

We laid there quite a while, switching sides. At some point I flipped over and we shared some kisses before I nestled against his chest and let him kiss my forehead as he held me tight. His hands wandered up my body and I soon felt a hard cock against my thigh. I teased it slightly and started to tease him more. He begged for me to jack him off and I grabbed the lube to comply.

What followed was a hand CBT hand job. I didn't torture his cock unless you count a lot of edging and denying orgasm. My greatest torture was spanking his balls. Spanking, slight squeezing, and then some really hard spanking. It was the slowest motion I've made him cum with  my hand. I'll have to write up those details soon. It deserves its own post.

After his orgasm, I received several excellent orgasms via his fingers on my clit. My favorite part was feeling all of the fingers on his hand running through my very wet pussy. I love how he soaks his fingers in my juices. It's fucking hot to know he'll be smelling me on him all day.

We got up, got dressed, and spent our Saturday as we typically do: video gaming and flirting with each other. During the afternoon, I spent a couple of hours with some of my favorite twitter crushes PlumptiousPea and TisforTMI (both ladies have very hot blogs I recommend them both!) and the nasty men of the Wholesome Addiction podcast recording a special segment for an upcoming show. Two hours of flirting and laughing till my mouth was tired (unusual it gets so tired from laughing -wink wink-).

Needless to say, I was SO turned on from all this girl flirting (I went speechless many times through the recording) as was the BF my fiance (that will take some getting used to!) that we had to go fuck. Immediately. As soon as I stepped away from my mic, he looked at me and said, "Can we PLEASE go fuck now!?"

Off to the bedroom we went, kissing and grabbing at each other. I rode him cowgirl - furiously. Hard. Fast. Needy. He wanted me to make him orgasm and then keep fucking him. So I did. He kissed and sucked on my nipples as I rode him through both of our orgasms and watched his body tremble from pleasure under me. I felt him grow soft a little, so I climbed off and grabbed my Hitachi and masturbated with his hands wandering around my thighs, grabbing and gripping me, as I orgasmed. He was hard again, so I gave him a hand job with a blow job finish.

We still had two hours before our dinner reservation, so we napped holding each other for nearly an hour before getting up and eventually getting ready for our date. (My idea of getting ready was lounging around naked for 45 minutes). With 15 minutes until we had to leave, we both dressed. He dressed in khaki's and his best button down shirt and I dressed in black fishnets, hot pink skirt, and a chunky black sweater. I wore black leather ankle boots that he said were "fucking sexy" on me.

We made it to dinner on time - our first dinner at Benihana. It was my choice for a restaurant; neither of us had ever eaten there, but I knew it would be fun. We were seating with 2 other couples (leaving 2 seats free) so we had plenty of room. One couple kept to themselves, but we chatted somewhat with the other couple at the table.

Dinner was delicious. He kept rubbing my back with his arm. We were both just so fucking happy to have this evening out. It was a beautiful evening together. Dinner was fun and entertaining and we really enjoyed it. When it was over, we had nearly an hour until our movie started just across the street. We decided to drop off our leftovers at the car and then do some mall shopping. 

On our way to the car, he pulled my arm and said, "Hey, wait a moment." I turned, wondering what he could want. It was cold, chilly, and slightly raining. I turned to him and there he was, on one knee, holding up this beautiful ring. I think my mouth dropped open and he said, "Will you marry me?" And then I smothered him.

My ring - white topaz, not a diamond per my request

No really, I did. I grabbed his head and smothered him in my boobs and held him for dear life. At that point, he struggled to stand up and give me a proper hug. The ring was slipped on my finger, and I hugged and kissed him. I almost started crying, but seeing him struggle away from suffocating in my boobs made me laugh too much and too hard to let any tears fall. We spent the next twenty minutes just wandering the mall and decided the movie was not what we wanted tonight. We wanted to just spend time together interacting rather than sitting in a dark theater.

So we drove him, me deliriously happy and he just smiled. And then, true to our roots, we hopped online and told one of our closest gamer friends the good news. And then I started crying. Then I posted the news on facebook and texted my parents (I knew they would be surprised and would need time to digest the news vs a happy call from me). And then I announced the news on twitter. 

Then I took my fiance into the bedroom and said, "I need to attack you!" and I did.

The past 24 hours I've had nothing but congratulations, and kind, lovely words from everyone. It really was the best day.

He got off to my laugh

It was late. I was tired. He wanted to get off and I wanted to help without reciprocity.

He laid back on his pillow, completely bare. Just the light of bedside lamp shown over his naked body. I looked over his naked body. His right hand moved toward his limp cock, and his fingers curled around it. He started to jack it off, slowly, watching me. I was sitting naked beside him near his waist, looking down at him.

His eyes moved up and down my body, spending extra time looking at my nipples. I shifted my legs and placed a bare foot on his face, heel resting on his chest. His free hand immediately moved up to gently hold my foot against him. His head moved to cuddle his cheek against the sole of my foot. His lips lightly kissed the arch of my foot.

 I leaned back and watched. Watched him love my foot, my dirty foot. The foot I'd worn in shoes and socks all day and not showered before I'd gotten into bed. My smelly, dirty foot. He sniffed it, and moaned. His cock stiffened with each kiss and sniff.

Tentatively, he licked me. First a light lick, then a full lick up my arch to my toes. I giggled.

His eyes opened and he looked at me. He licked me lightly and watched as I struggled and giggled. "Yes, laugh, laugh for me," he begged. "I want to hear you laugh."

Now I knew he loved to hear my laugh, but.... laugh while he's jerking off? I consented to let him tickle me.

He gently swept his tongue across the ball of my foot and a giggle escaped my mouth. He audibly moaned when he heard it. He licked some more and I let the giggles escape unrestrained. A few teeth scraped against my sensitive skin and I barely managed to keep my leg from kicking him, but my reaction was more laugh than giggle. "More, laugh more!" he ordered me.

"I can't just laugh on command...!"

His hand stopped caressing the top of my foot and instead tickled the bottom of my foot. Now I laughed louder and it turned him on. Each laugh made him moan.  Occasionally he would bite his lip and arch his body. He became more aggressive and tickled more of my foot, giving me fewer rests. My laughs became raucous and I fell backward on the bed, letting my body just react with laughter at his fingers playing on my foot.

He ran fingers up and down my foot, fingernails lightly touching me. It felt so good to laugh, just relax and laugh unrestrained, but what I loved more was hearing him get excited over the sound of my laughter. His moans and sighs were so constant and tied to my laughs. Each laugh and burst of sound aroused him more.

His tongue tickled me in between my toes while his fingers ticked my arch. I was out of breath from laughing when he came, hard. He tickled me through his orgasm, taking final licks and sniffs of my foot, holding it to his face with the firmest grip.

I panted, laying against the side of his body. We shared a smile, and I wondered at what just happened. I'm not sure I ever felt so valued and sexy -- I knew he loved my body and my mind. Both have made him get off, but my laugh? I had no idea that turned him on like that.

And once again, another first for our relationship, and another reason why he makes me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

Flashes of our life

There are so many moments of my life I wish I could capture in a snapshot or film. I'd rather have a picture of these moments, to remember the memories rather than relive them through a video.

But these moments are all so unique and special to me. Sixteen months has done nothing to diminish my joy in being with someone I can count as a partner, best friend, and lover. So many beautiful moments and I feel so many slip by, wanting to remember them.

I can see the expression on his face when I make him laugh. I tease him and his smile is so wide and beautiful. He's so quiet around people, but with me his laugh is raucous and loud. He laughs with his full body. Sometimes I even make him laugh so hard he just collapses on the ground, unable to talk. It makes me laugh to see him so exuberant and honest with his amusement. I'm really not so funny, but he finds me hilarious. I love that.

Then there are the moments that, after an argument, he lays his head on my chest and his voices changes to the most tender sound. No matter what we were discussing, these moments are the ones where all anger is gone, but we just open up. The tone of his voice, so sweet and genuine, softened and sweet. It makes me melt hearing him with no barriers.

The moments where he calls me a slut and whore. Where he tells me to take it. Where he owns my body, the most intimate parts of me.

The moment today where he told me he masturbated, thinking about our wedding day. He envisioned me in a white dress. As he came, he yelled 'I do.' I never knew the idea of marriage and a wedding could be so alluring, sexy, and a complete turn-on for a man. To have someone so interested in marrying me that it gets them off - the fantasy just wanting, waiting to become reality. When I asked him "Was there a veil?" and he said "There usually is." So I said, "Usually?" He said, "I've said too much." Then he got all bashful and wouldn't say anymore.

Moments where I lay on his chest and watch him jack off. Hearing him moan as he rests his head against mine. He wants me a part of those moments and I love just to be present and share in this intimacy.

Those times when he calls me "Naughty!" in the most adorable way EVER when I tell him about my latest masturbation that he wasn't around to see or hear.

When he literally prances around in pink lacey panties and starts to act girly, he gets giggly and cute. And I love him for it.

Since I wrote my prior post, Reflections, discussing how I needed some changes in my life - some self-management and stress management, I've been making an effort to focus on what's really important vs what I've made or impose on myself to be important. It's not easy and I must remember that change comes slowly. One thing I've tried to make a priority is focusing on what I'm missing by being too stressed out or what I may even take for granted.

For now, I'm focusing on love.

Reunion pt 1

His parents arrive in town on a Friday night and we gave them the only bed in our house, our bed. I slept on the couch while my BF took the air mattress in the living room. The first night, we were too tired to do anything. I slept badly and was so tired the next day, I didn't even think about trying anything. Another horrible nights sleep, I wanted sleep more than sex.

And then Sunday night, we got our bedroom back. We had survived forty-eight hours with only light kisses and very minimal groping. He gropes me more in public than he did in front of his parents.

And there we were, naked in front of each other. I couldn't help but bite my lip looking at him. He was hot. So fucking hot. I couldn't not touch him. I kissed him, body pressed into him, my urgency taking him by surprise. He told me to be patient, we still had to shower and get ready for bed. I just watched his naked body move around our bedroom.

In bed. Lying naked side by side. I kissed him, soft and slow. His body responded with a hand wandering up and down my body. Shivers of pleasure and expectation soon followed with moans.

"Shhhh!" he whispered quietly. "My parents are still downstairs. You have to be absolutely silent or I will stop." I kissed him in response. Very soon, his hand wandered down to my pussy. I spread my legs wide for him. His touch ignited pure lust in me. I felt my stomach tense as his fingers slipped into my cunt, lightly running up against my hard clit.

My mouth opened in pleasure, but I kept my silence. I looked into his eyes and we just started into each other's eyes. He watched my body respond as he started quickly flicking at that spot on my clit that is my orgasm spot. My body arched and my hips started gyrating as he sped up, watching me.

"Stop!" I said, opening my eyes and looking at him.

"What? Why?"

"I want to be.... teased," I replied. "Tease me, please."

Slow. So slow. Too slow. No speeding up. I stared at him, wanting more. More speed, more touch. More pleasure.

"Stick a finger in me... please!"

He started working his finger in a little at a time, letting the wetness cover his finger. He started rubbing me with that "come hither" motion and again my body responded with moving hips and arching back. My eyes closed and my mouth was open, wanting to cry out but forcing myself to be silent. He repositioned his body and started to finger fuck me. Then a finger in me and thumb on me and I couldn't keep silent.

"Oh fuck! oh fuck!" I said in the smallest of whispers.

"Shhh.... or I will stop," he warned me.

My mouth moved in strained silence. He continued to finger fuck me as he saw the orgasm hit me and continue as my pussy gripped his finger. He slowed his movement as he pulled out and wandered back up to my clit. He played with it, moving my clit in little circles, watching how each movement made me twitch and react to his touch.

Finger back in me, deep. He moved it quick and almost rough. It was less than a minute before I was experiencing my second orgasm, which led to a third when I had barely recovered. He mocked me for coming so quickly, but his fingers kept working my cunt.

Another vaginal orgasm, and then he started toying with my clit. But he wasn't doing anything I needed to even come close to an orgasm. I begged. I begged please to give me a clitgasm. Please.

He slowly toyed with my clit, then all of a sudden just attacked it. Quick. Rough. Back and forth. Moans escaped my lips and I couldn't stop them. They were barely audible, but still there. I lost all concentration on looking at my love and just begged for more. He saw me come and my body arched and I almost screamed. He saw my body start to relax just a bit and stopped. My muscles untensed -- and then he resumed his fast clit wiggling and watched my body quickly tense to orgasm in another minute.

I was moaning so softly, he told me to be quiet again. I tried, but could not contain my echos of pleasure.

I turned my attention to him. His cock was so hard after watching me experience 6 orgasms from his hand. I ran my hand softly up and down his dick and his eyes closed as he bit his lip. I pumped a small amount of lube onto my hand and covered his dick with it. His mouth opened in silent gasps of pleasure and I started him in a rhythm of two strokes just up to his head, then one full stroke including his head. Repeat. Each time my hand slid off the head of his penis he mouthed the word "Fuck." I repeated this pattern until he started mouthing it when I wasn't touching his head, so I changed to 6 incomplete strokes to one full, watching his whole body jerk and his silent "Fuck!" when I included his cock in my grip.

So easy, just counting my strokes. Without warning I started doing every-other stroke and his whole face contort in pleasure. His whole body was focused on my hand. His silent fucks came more often and I tightened my grip, squeezing his cock with each pass on his head. He bent his head towards me, and I inclined my lips to his. His hand reached up and kept my lips pressed to his.

There I was, just pressing my lips to his, all his focus on the never ending strokes of my hand. I started going quicker, stronger, tighter. His body was fully tensed and his lips could not move against mine, he just held them there, waiting.

His orgasm spilled cum all over his stomach while he lips kissed me hard, deep, quiet moans were in his throat as he used my lips to keep him silent.

I washed the lube off my hands while he wiped up his abundant spilled come. We cuddled naked and feel asleep.

When I want to start having sex

On twitter, @Saynine asked the question - does anyone wait 6 dates or more for sex? He had seen this response on OK Cupid and was a little surprised at the length of time. A very respectful, healthy discussion followed among a large group of people. On the whole, most people had sex earlier than six dates.  Their reason? Sexual compatibility before emotional compatibility.

For me, this just doesn't jive. I can't actually imagine having my priorities that way. Just thinking about approaching life that way makes my brain say, "YOU CAN'T DO THAT! THAT'S CRAZY!" Ok, calm down brain. I'm not asking you to change who you are. At least I know my mental/emotional limits.

I have absolutely nothing against someone who can live life successfully this way - really. I fully respect people are different and can have sex on the first date and end up happy together (just like @saynine and a bunch of other twitter people have). For me, it's just not how I approach life and relationships. That conversation happened early 8 hours ago but I haven't stopped thinking about it.

Why did so many feel comfortable with sex on the first date when it seemed so few responded that that was too soon? Does my background/upbringing impact this more than I realize? Why, exactly, do I feel so strongly against this?

Let's start with a few disclaimers.

1. First, as I've mentioned several times, I've only had 2 sexual partners. My experience on dating and starting a sexual relationship is limited.
2. Also, I've never been on an actual first date. Let me explain: I started dating my first partner in college. We hung out for months and we were around each other so much that people assumed we were dating, so we just started dating under the logic, "Everyone thinks we are, so let's give it a shot and see if it's the good idea everyone else seems to think it is." Yeah, I was an idiot. (In my defense, I was only 17 and had only long-distance dated 1 other person.)  But once we first started "dating" officially, we didn't go out on any official dates. We just continued hanging out like we always had. Then when I started dating the boyfriend, but we met long distance. Our first "date" was more than a month after we started dating long distance. We were already skype masturbating, so sex upon meeting made sense.
3. I grew up in a very conservative, Christian home. Sex was not discussed. You didn't kiss anyone unless you loved them. Sex was only OK within marriage... etc. You know the type. This whole background was a major part of the problem why my first sexual relationship failed: I had no idea what you should be looking for in a potential sexual partner or relationship. I didn't know what to think about, look for, and had no idea there was quite a range of sexual preference and tastes. 

OK, so disclaimers out of the way. Does this explain why I can't imagine sleeping with someone on the first date? No... really, I see my reasoning exists outside of these experiences:

1. I don't trust people that easily. Yes, I'll take you at your word up until a point. However, I have no way of knowing you're telling me the truth when we've only just met. How do I know you're telling me the truth on what you want, are interested in, or your last STD test was as clean as you say it was? How do I know you're not going to use me to get off and not call me again? 
2. Before you even kiss me, I want to know we have chemistry. Flirt with me, show me interest, let's get to know each other. Can we even flirt? I've had men flirt with me and I've been repulsed by it. Just because you're attracted to me, I won't be attracted to you.
3. I have to be attracted to you, and I'm not automatically attracted to someone. Personality is a huge part of attraction for me. I am not attracted to the physical outright. I need time to let my attraction grow.
4. I'm not a fan of casual sex. I prefer sex within a relationship. A relationship doesn't happen overnight or after a date or two. It takes time to develop.
5. Sex can be confusing. I've seen it happen with friends... the sex is great, but the rest of the relationship sucks. It muddies the waters. You can't see clearly and you end up staying in a relationship when you really should end it. I don't ever want to be in that situation. I need to establish the rest of my relationship -- and then bring sex into the equation.

These are all reasons why just meeting someone and jumping into sex or swinging won't work for me. I need time and a relationship first. I need feelings, chemistry, anticipation. I don't want a one time thing. It's not for me. If it works for you, then I wish you safe and enjoyable sex in whatever form of relationship you are looking for. 

Masturbation month: his focus on my ass

May is National Masturbation month - and what an excellent month to choose! We have a 3-day holiday weekend and 31 days in the month... someone selected very, very well.

Twice this month, something happened that I never imagined possible before the boyfriend entered my life: he masturbated and got off to my ass. Twice this month.

The first time...
The first time was earlier in the month during an afternoon when I was working from home. I was so incredibly horny. We had been playfully teasing each other all day... I would look at pictures on tumblr and show them to him. He would tell me what he wanted to do to me later that night. We would flash each other, brush by each other. Light touches. Whispers. Kisses that lingered. Clothes came over in more layers. Eventually, I was working naked at my computer.

By mid-afternoon I was in full torture but unable to take a break. I really do try to be a responsible worker! But then the BF came over to my desk and swung my chair toward him. He kneeled down in front of me and started to eat my pussy. He ate it as if it was his last meal on earth. He hungered for it. I leaned back in my chair and took it. I didn't care that I was naked and now in the view of the parking lot. I didn't care that we had two windows open and there was a very real chance I could be overheard. I enjoyed every moment of it. I enjoyed seeing him force his face in my pussy as he licked and sucked every part of me. I came, quickly.

When he finished, he stood up, boner staring me in the face. I licked my lips. I wanted him. But work was calling me back to the computer... He needed to cum. So I provided some inspiration. I stood up bent over my desk and pushed my ass up against his hand so his knuckles and the head of his dick brushed against my ass with his jerking off motions.

He loved the view. My naked ass, displayed for his viewing pleasure. His free hand reached out to grab at my cheeks. Pinches of thick flesh. He pulled on my cheek to spread it apart. I reached around and grabbed the other. His response was an intake of breath. His hand started to jerk faster.

I wiggled my ass at him. His hand dropped from my ass to fondle his balls, so I pulled my other hand away from my laptop to pull on my other ass cheek. Now I was spread wide for him. The view made him moan appreciatively.

"You like my asshole?" All I heard was a moan in response.

I flexed my muscles, and made my asshole pucker and flex for him.

"Ooooh baby.... oh god that's so hot!" He watched me do it. I wiggled my ass and puckered it some more. In a few moments, he exploded hot cum on my ass and smeared it all over my cheeks.

I left it there for later.

The Second Time...
Then, several weeks later, he is horny and I am fighting an insane headache. I can barely keep my eyes open. He notices my pain and pulls me away to the bedroom for some ibuprofen and a nap. He tucked me in, and left me to rest. About an hour later he came back to check on me. I was a little better, but still in pain. He held me to him, our naked bodies warm together. He spooned me and ran his fingers through my hair and leaving small kisses on my back. It was comforting and soft.

I could feel his dick growing harder on my ass. I so wanted to enjoy some sweet, passionate sex, but the pain in my head was far too painful to even have an interest. His hand started wandering around my body, feeling my breasts, my stomach, my hips, my ass, my thighs. Every part he touched came with his voice telling me he loved it and it was beautiful.

I couldn't do anything to help him, but I wanted to help somehow. So I knelt on the bed, bent over with my head on the mattress for comfort, and stuck my spread and displayed ass in his face. "Here, look at my ass."

Oh he did. His jerking motions were swift and rapid. The free hand wandered over it again and again, feeling every part of it. Remembering his reaction from the last time, I flexed my muscles and he was so excited at the visual of my moving ass hole. I flexed in fast pulses and then long, slow ones. I moaned my happiness of his excitement over my body.

His hand was jerking so hard and fast on his dick. I could hear his fist hitting his body as he hand-fucked himself. The noise was sexy and appealing. I wished I could see, but I didn't want to remove my ass from his eyesight. Again, it didn't take long for him to cum. I heard whispered "Oh I love your ass... look at that little asshole.... oh fuck I love your asshole baby."

I was smiling so wide when he came. My ass, my booty, loved so much by him.

Sometimes, real life interrupts

It shouldn't surprise you to know that life does interrupt our sex life at times. We may make plans and they may go completely awry. Not everything is amazing, incredible, gorgeous, hot sex.

By now, we've had a variety of these experiences. Sometimes we plan to have sex, and then we're too tired. Or he's going to eat me out, but my period starts a day early. Sometimes we try a new position, and we don't like it. Or he fucks me too hard during the afternoon that I don't want anything in my vagina that night. Sometimes we plan to peg, and he doesn't want to when the time comes. Occasionally, we get distracted by another activity and just go with the flow. My hands feel that good on your cock? Well look who's getting a hand job tonight!

Wednesday night, we were planning on pegging him. We took a shower and I plugged him up. We went to the couch and watched TV and then got ready for bed. I got out a new dildo we hadn't used yet - I planned to hand fuck him then use the hitachi on the base while it was in him.

I slid the dildo in. It's our first one that had little ridges on it. He didn't like it; it wasn't all the way in until he told me to take it out. It was uncomfortable. I removed it and set it aside. I reached for another dildo, the Siren we normally use, but he said no. He went to the bathroom to clean up.

When he returned, I was sitting there, unsure what to do. He returned the same look. So... normal sex? We both agreed, yes.

We kissed and started playing with ourselves. I was still wet from my earlier hitachi use... I played with the wet, making sloshing noises as loudly as I could, at his request. I played with my vagina entrance to get the loudest sound. He bit his lip in excitement, watching me. He kissed up my body from knee to lips while I did this, jacking off his dick. It made me giggly, and turned me on.

After a final kiss, he moved to position himself between my legs. I opened wide for him.... then realized I had a pillow under my shoulders. I prefer to fuck flat on my back. I reached behind me to pull it out and throw it to the side - and the movement made me fart. On him.

Horror! We exchanged a very brief look, his face amused, mine shocked. "Did you just fart?"

Oh gosh. I hid my face under the pillow. He was laughing, I was laughing. My whole body was shaking as I buried my head in shame. I nodded yes, not that he needed confirmation. He wanted me to come out from under the pillow. I shook my head no.

We burst into more laughter. I could not help but recognize the irony. Here I am, sex blogger who professes to be sex positive and I pride myself on realizing that stuff like this happens. This isn't the first time I've accidentally farted during sex, but it was the first time with him. And in some ways, I'm very much a girly-girl and I personally don't like farts at all. I recognize they're normal, but I prefer to think they don't happen. And that I don't let them happen ON him when we're about to have SEX.

He let me have a few moments to compose myself. When I didn't come out, he commented that he bet I was red as a beet... which resulted in another round of laughter for us. I said I didn't want to come out, I was too embarrassed. He didn't push me or rush me.

He sat back between my feet and started jacking off again. "Guess I'll have to take care of myself then," he said, trying to get me to come out from my hiding spot. I said that was fine with me.

But then I started listening to the sound... and I realized my feet were in close proximity to his body. I ran a right foot tentatively up his chest. I couldn't see anything, so I went by feel. I wandered up his body again, this time feeling for his face. I found his neck and ran up to his face. His lips found my toes, his free hand guided my foot around his mouth. He kissed my toes, the bottom of my feet.

I ran my foot back down his body and back up. I scrunched my toes around his nose. His tongue licked the arch of my foot, then he started flicking in between my toes. His tongue was strong, warm, and wet. It felt so good and turned me on. He moaned lightly as he kissed my feet. I scrunched my toes again and he sighed. He loves it when I grip his face.

He moaned and then said something completely unexpected: "This reminds me of how I got off the other day."

"What?" I could not remember doing anything with my feet this week.

"Yeah... I jacked off sniffing your shoes... oh I came so good."

"What!?!?!" Another revelation. He's never expressed interested in smelling my shoes. I knew it was interesting to some foot fetish guys, but he's never said or shown anything. And then I needed to know, "Which shoes?"

"The purple ones... your flats." Oh, so my favorite pair of shoes... my 2-year old purple suede Nine West shoes that I've worn at least 50% of the time the past two years.

"Show me?" I wanted to see it. He agreed. Out I came from under my pillow and off to find my shoes. I retrieved them and gave them both to him. He took one in his free hand, kept his dick in the other, and took a deep, long sniff into it. I watched, so curious and fascinated.

His eyes rolled back in pleasure. "Baby, your feet are so very sexy. I love how sexy your feet are." Another sniff and his body started to lean back away from me. I placed my feet near his balls, and scrunched his testicles with my toes. His body visibly tensed. Another sniff. His jacking off motion was slower now. He didn't need that much stimulation. A final sniff and he was cumming. Hard. My feet continued to scrunch at his balls. His body trembled as cum poured from his cock.

And then we went to bed, me cuddling to his chest in his arms. The night wasn't anything like we expected or planned. We recovered and took it to something beautiful. And that is real world sex.

Being "open minded"

So in the sex positive and kink community, there's a concept called "open minded." I've found it can mean different things to different people. Are any of these specifically right or wrong? I think that's up to you and what you think of this concept.

Open and up for anything. I think there's one interpretation where "open minded" means "I'll do anything." Normally where one partner wants something and another does not, and the partner who isn't getting what they want considers the other one "close minded." I'm guilty as charged in this. I called my ex closed minded about sex.  In the end, I realized that there was no amount of talking that would fix this. He was and is who he is with his desires; I am me. We were a complete sexual mismatch. Was that our only problem? No. But, it was a significant problem considering how much and how often I like to have sex - and all kinds of sex.

Not everyone is a sexual match. Even my BF and I, with all our sex and fun we have, sometimes we like different things. I want a hand job, he wants sex. I want to fuck him, he wants a hand job. He wants to pee on me, I don't really enjoy that. So far we haven't said "no" to each other on something we want. Sometimes I hear envious comments on twitter from someone seeking a partner who matches their desires. They want someone "open minded."

I don't know how to respond to that. To me, "open minded" does not mean "I want everything you want" or "I'll try anything you ask me to." That's not what its about. I do believe in what Dan Savage calls "GGG" which is "good, giving, and game." We should be open to our partner's desires and wants. We should be open to exploring... just as our partner should understand that each person's limits are different. And just because you try something doesn't mean you'll like it or want to do it again. Give and take.

No judgement. Does being "open minded" mean that you will not judge/think badly of someone for acting in a sexual way that's not similar to your tastes? Maybe. I think you should at least respect that people may like different flavors other than you. Some of us are vanilla and others are... rainbow kink, for lack of a better term. The BF and I are into a lot of things that's not for everyone. And that's OK. If you don't like it, I understand. I don't expect you to read every entry and like it; some people are into some things more than others. Some guys don't understand my BF's foot fetish; some women are uncomfortable with ass play. To each his own.

An issue I see is that being open minded is not just about allowing for the variety of sex in this universe; sometimes, we're just uncomfortable with something and it's off limits to us. Sometimes I have conversations with people on twitter and I end up shaking my head in disbelief of "I don't get it." Some things make me uncomfortable and they probably always will. I don't like hiding things from your partner, especially if it involves other partners they don't know about. I don't like public humiliation; it makes me very uncomfortable and it would break my heart to do it. (Of course, I have nothing against humiliation in the bedroom...)

So what happens when we come across those with tastes, predilections, desires, and fetishes that are so opposite our own? We can ignore, for certain. We can run far away and pretend they don't exist. We could tell the person he/she is "wrong" for their likes.

 In my mind the real key to being open minded is accepting that the person is that way and you can't change that. You shouldn't want to change that. What we all should do is accept the fact that we're all different and move on. The world is full of diversity; you don't have to understand it to get on in life. (Just like I don't understand how anyone can like the game Minecraft which the BF is currently obsessed with... but I love him anyway.)

Formspring Friday: Turn-ons

Q. What one thing turns you on the most in a partner?
Physically? Hands. Its the first thing I notice in a male partner (I'll get to you ladies in a second.) I love a set of strong male hands. Masculine fingers, shorter, well-maintained (read: trimmed and clean) fingernails. I don't like skinny or girly hands on men - its very unattractive. I have a coworker who has very girly hands and I can't look at them without a little bit of "ew." Not all hands are manly to me - I'm not really sure how to describe it in words, so a pic to hopefully illustrate my ideal:

These are the first hands I ever noticed. HOT.

Now for women, the first thing I notice is your general body shape. I look at the curves... Are the hips wider or at least the same width as shoulders? Curves of the breasts from the front, from the side. Thighs to ass, ass to back. Pelvis to stomach and legs. Stomach to breasts. I look at all of it. There's not one shape or type I like - I'm pretty varied. All of the women I post on my tumblr are ones that I find attractive in some way.

Yes, curves like this. Beautiful.

Now, if we're not talking physical attraction, then I'd say confidence. Nothing is sexier than a man or woman who knows who they are and isn't afraid to hide it. Since I've only had relationships with men, I can tell you that they have all been extremely confident. I love it when a man knows he is the best and shows it. It's sexy.

My BF's answer to this is probably: feet. (I asked, he couldn't decide... after some talking and reflection we settled on feet). He is the only man I know who looks at the shoes of everyone we pass... he always knows what shoes people are wearing before I've even registered the color of their shirt. And, come to think of it, my feet were the first picture I sent to him by request.

May the 4th

... be with you!

Today is May 4th, aka, STAR WARS day!!! Star Wars is, and ever will be, my most favorite movie of all time. So to celebrate, we give you these....

In our Star Wars shirts and panties

I got booty!

Lifting it up....

Getting closer...

This picture blocked by the boyfriend.

Hope you enjoy our Star Wars feature. And seriously, Han shot first...

I came out as bisexual

I've known for years that I was bisexual. When I first realized I was "different" than most of my friends, I was in high school. I didn't know there was such a thing called bisexuality. I knew people were straight and that anything else was spoken in hushed tones, like if you said it too loud or spoke about it too long, something bad would happen.

My earliest memory of realizing there was anything other than man-woman couple was watching Mrs. Doubtfire where the dad turns to his gay friend for help dressing as a woman. To me, the "costumer" (as I assumed his identity) was just another person who spoke kind of funny. My mother's reaction was a shocked "oh!" with a tsk-ing noise and a comment about how she thought it was inappropriate. I knew something was odd, but I wasn't sure what.

Some years later either my sister or I asked why some men pierce one ear and why left or right side. My mom told me (and I'll never forget this): "Left is right, right is wrong." It was "the signal" of being on the wrong side of sexuality. We never talked about sexuality; I don't ever remember my parents saying the word gay or homosexual, although I'm sure at one point they must have.

Then we moved to a house where a lesbian couple lived across the street. I had never met anyone (to my knowledge) who was "that way." To my knowledge they were incredibly rare and weird. But here they were - neighbors!  They were great neighbors and of course we returned the favor, despite calling them "the girls" behind their backs. (A fact that I'm ashamed of today).

Anyway, I digress. It was in late high school or college when I first heard the term bisexual and it instantly clicked that it was right. It defined exactly where I was confused because I didn't fit the "straight" box and I didn't fit "lesbian" either. Bisexual? That was me. But I only told one person - my best friend who had first told me about the term because it was also her sexual identity.

It was years before I told anyone else. I was still very much in my shell. I had never considered how being bisexual fit into my identity. I'd had mostly boy-crushes in school and no one would ever guess. It was pushed to the bottom of the pile of self-discovery - college was too distracting and soon I was dating my ex. I told him eventually; he was fine with it, because he assumed I would never do anything about it. We were strictly monogamous.

So I ignored it. College was done, I was married, and life was started. And then something changed. Friends from college started coming out. Gay rights started popping up in the news and I was paying attention to current events for the first time in my life. And I finally started thinking about my sexuality. I knew who I was, but I was hiding it from everyone. Even when my friends came out, I didn't say anything in return. I wasn't ready for the world to know.

My ex and I became somewhat active in our pro-gay rights views. My parents did not understand why I wanted to march in DC with 200,000 other people. They didn't know why I was posting petitions to facebook. We had arguments about religion and politics. It grew heated and I felt personally attacked but unable to find a voice to say why; so I told them I wouldn't discuss it anymore.

Every once in a while my mom would try to talk about it, trying to figure out why I believed so differently from her/them/my upbringing. I did my best to keep it civil, but it reinforced why I was hiding.

Then I got divorced. I had found freedom and my voice. I met the boyfriend. I started tweeting. I started blogging. I grew more confident.

And then I realized I didn't have a reason to hide anymore. If anything, I was hurting myself by keeping a significant part of myself secret and hidden. It was time to tell everyone.

I did this by posting a note on my vanilla facebook account and then tagging everyone of any significance in my life. Here is a portion of what I posted:

When I found the term bisexual I knew instantly that it fit. It fit that I wasn't straight or lesbian, I was kind of both. I completely agree with the idea that sexuality is on a sliding scale. Its rare that you are just straight or just gay. I'm more straight than gay. If you put it on a scale of 0=100% straight and 10=100% gay, then I'd define myself as a 4 or 5.

So why am I telling you this? Well, because there's nothing to hide about it. Its who I am, who I've been, and who I will be. It won't change or go away. For the longest time I pretended it wasn't there because it didn't "fit" well into my life. What I've learned is that ignoring who you are makes your life a lie and you reflect that internal turmoil with being unhappy with yourself. You can't be yourself with those you love and care about.

I want to live authentically, true to myself and who I am.

I don't think I new any non-straight people growing up... or at least, I didn't know I had gay/bi/queer/etc friends at all until they came out during some point of their adult lives. What amazes me is that many more people than I ever suspected were more than the "straight" we assume people automatically are. I'm glad I can be trusted by those who have come out to me. Some are publicly out, others are not. It doesn't matter as its all in their own time to come out, if they ever do.

For me, learning that someone is gay/bi/queer/etc has made me appreciate how diverse our world really is. It really doesn't matter where you're from or what your background is, you are born a certain way and there's nothing you can do to change that.

 Reactions were pretty much what I expect. There are those that didn't care, those who were supportive, and the typical, "Lucky BF!" automatically assuming this is the golden way to get a threeway whenever he wants. Lovely stereotypes!

And then there was my mother. She and I are not friends on facebook since I kicked her off my page a year or so ago... it was also something that I felt I should say to her rather than send in an email. I chickened out for a week. And then a few more days. And then I decided that it just needed to be said.

It went better than I expected. It turns out she found my note through my sister's facebook a few days ago and the time had allowed her to calm down from being "very upset." She doesn't understand it at all, she doesn't even believe bisexual exists, and a lot of other conservative/religious mumbo.

In the end, it was a calm discussion, we didn't argue hardly at all, and it ended well. It's not the end of the dialogue by any means, but at least she knows and I know she knows.

And its over. I'm out. I'm free. It didn't change me for the worse, it just made me stronger.

The appreciation factor

There's something about having sex with a partner who appreciates not just your mind or your personality, but your body. That full appreciation for how you turn him on, what he finds sexy, and how he wants not just to fuck you, but to FUCK YOU, your whole body.

I've come to appreciate just how delicious it is to have hands wander not for a sweet caress, but to wander because there is a lust for every part of me, and he can't decide which one he needs in his grasp that moment. That lust for my thighs were he grabs at them, but they're too big to get a hand around them, so he grabs and grabs at them, gasping at the flesh under him. My muscular and slightly fleshy thighs.

He grabs at the top and the sides while he's on top, gripping as much as he can but he can't get a good grip. That never stops him from trying more. He moans into my chest as he grabs at them. His grip is strong, hard, and almost hurts. But not quite. Sometimes he rakes his fingers like a deep scratch without scratching me. I can feel his strength through his hands.

Or if he's kneeling fucking me hard, he grabs my inner thighs while my legs are spread. This is my fleshiest part, but he loves how tender they are. He grips gently, never hurting me.

Then my butt. My fleshy ass. This he can grip one cheek at a time, to hold however he likes. Normally he just pulls one sideways, his hand under me as he is on top of me. Sometimes he grips both cheeks while his head rests on my breasts. Sometimes, he grabs at them like he wants to tear off a chunk and devour it.

Sometimes he bites my ass when we're not even having sex.

My feet. He loves my feet. Recently he just wants to sniff them when we have sex, and he doesn't care that I last showered yesterday morning - they are too sexy to be denied. For him, my feet are heaven and the smell and feel goes straight to his dick.

My vagina.  Nothing tells me he loves my body more than when he sighs and moans and gasps when his dick first enters my vagina. "Ohhhh!" and the air is cut off in his throat. "Oh I love your pussy... oh fuck! Its amazing...." and then sometimes, "Oh fuuuuck baby you have the best pussy in the world...." and the look on his face of absolute wonder and delight of my very wet and warm vagina.

Then there is the smell and taste of me - you've read about how he loves to smell me (here and here). He loves the taste of me, too. Its delicious, he can't get enough of either.

He calls me beautiful. Beautiful, no matter what time of day or what I'm wearing. Beautiful because I am his, and he loves all of me. Literally.

And then a sweet ending of the night

Note: This is part 3 of a 3 part series of one night of sex together. Read parts one and two to find out the start of the story.

He moved between my legs, and slid his cock into me. It was rock hard, harder than it had been during the BJ I'd given him earlier.  My pussy is very warm with my cum, and his face reflects the pleasure of my pussy surrounding him. He feels huge in me, bigger than normal. I ask why, and all he does is kiss my lips. We look into each other's eyes and share the look. Its intense, and my emotions are still running high.

He fucks me slowly, his hands cradling my head as he often does. He calls me his beautiful. His hands wander down to my ass and thighs and he calls me beautiful. All I can do is smile, and hold myself to him. I feel years of pain healing in me. Balm of love spread over my pain. I kiss his neck and shoulder and then he kisses mine. He traces light soft kisses on my nipples and over my breasts. I run my fingers through his hair, watching him trace his love on me.

But his penis is filling me up, almost too much. I was a little sore from the very hard fuck he gave me that morning and the other one right when I was home from work. My pussy was sore and his rock hard dick was hurting and pleasing me at the same time. I lifted my legs back to let him in me more, holding my ankles in the air for him. He grinned as he saw my feet up in the air above his shoulders.

It was slow and sweet and all it took was some fast thrusting for me to cum again on him. He held onto my hips as I came shuddering.

He surprised me, and pulled out, climbing down and eating my pussy once again. Fingers in me, fingers on my clit, tongue on my clit, tongue wandering around me. I was calling his name and telling him I loved him over and over. I jerked his dick while I could think about it as he ate me out... he smelled me more and more. Then I would realize I had stopped for however long from the pleasure he was giving me. I came very hard again and he ended with a strong suck on my clit.

I laid still, my moans still coming for a few minutes after he finished me. I felt good everywhere.

I turned to look at him. He was laying on his back, hard straight dick waiting for me. He wanted to be jacked off, would I please do it? Of course... I wanted to do nothing more.

I grabbed the bottle of lube and laid my head on his chest, kissing him as I jacked him off. His dick was so hard and big I kept losing my grip - my fingers wouldn't fit all the way around the base like they normally do! I jacked him off then sat up and began working him with two hands. I massaged pumped his dick. I put pressure on his head as I massaged it, never removing my hand while the other jacked off the base. Then I used both hands to twist on his dick in opposite directions.

It was so hard my fingers started to hurt from squeezing him, but he wanted nothing more than a tight grip tonight. His eyes were shut so tight and his whole body was tensed. His pecs were defined, his arms tense. I looked at his legs and his calf muscles were evident from flexed legs. His pelvis was so far up he was hardly touching the bed with his butt.

And I jacked him off, told him I loved him, I loved his dick. I loved how hard it got for me. He was barely making any noise. His breathing cut in and out he got closer to orgasm, and then I would pull away, prolonging his pleasure, making it last. I played and played with him and his body stayed tense.

I jacked him off by moving my hands in half circles in opposite directions while slightly moving up and down his long cock. Squeezed him hard and moved fast, jacking off his dick as hard as I could.

He came with a long, low, almost-growl. His pelvis shifted up and he did a half sit-up to watch his dick in orgasm. More cum than I expected spilled from his cock and drizzled down my fingers.

I washed the lube from my hands, and he held me as we drifted to sleep.

Then I cried when he ate me out

Note: This is part 2 of a 3 part series on one evening of sex. Read part 1 here. 

 I laid back, waiting for him to make his move. Had I changed his mind?

Yes, I had. He laid down in between my legs to see my freshly shaved pussy. He laid sideways so one of my legs was over his body. I opened my legs far for him, and one touch of his finger to my clit, so light, so gentle, had my eyes closed tight. He slowly slid his tongue over my clit and I moaned loudly. He teased me lightly, fingers from both hands wandering around my pussy.

I moaned and cried out, he flicked his tongue across me rapidly. It was like heaven touching me. My whole world became my clit, my pussy, my vagina. A finger in me, gentle, barely there, tantalizing me as his tongue wandered up, down, and circled my clitoris. His tongue wandered down me, to the spot just below my clit.

As he teased me, he would stop his tongue and not move it, just let it sit on me. My body would tremble, and I begged him to move against me. He would sometimes remove his tongue altogether and yawn, I could feel his whole body fill with air. But he didn't act tired as he played with me, he continued loving my clit. His finger wandered further into me, fucking me gently as he sucked at my clit. His wet mouth felt amazing on me.

Then another yawn. But this time, I heard something different. He wasn't exhaling air. He was inhaling.

"Are you smelling my pussy?" I ask, bewildered.

"Mmhmm," he tells me. He inhales again, and I feel his fingers pulling my lips wider apart.  I am awed. he goes back to licking my pussy, and I feel a wave of emotions hitting me. My eyes prick with tears. I am overcome. He is eating me more intensely, and I'm moaning in high pitched almost squeals of pleasure.

He smells me again, and eats, and smells more. Now that he knows I'm aware of what he's doing, he's smelling me more, nose practically touching me as he fills himself with my scent.

I am overwhelmed. I start to cry a little as he eats and sucks at my clit. I'm almost to orgasm and I'm feeling the most wonderful, compelling joy I've ever experienced. He sniffs and smells me, he inhales as deeply as he can. Finally, I start to cum and it feels good but I'm distracted by my emotions of the moment. As I'm cumming his finger takes over my clit, but I push his wrist away. I can't take it. He stops and sits up, confused.

He looks at my face and asks what's going on. I look at him, and the reality of my experience takes over. I look at him with blurry eyes, I try to tell him, to find words. But I can't. Tears start to fall down my face and he puts a hand on my face and asks me gently what's up.

I try to verbalize the whirlwind I'm in, "I'm.... I'm... just..." and then I'm in full tears, crying. "I'm so happy!" with a sob I roll to my side and curl up into a little ball. He immediately surrounds me, holding me to him. He's cradling me against him and I'm wrapped around him. I'm sobbing into him. He's letting me cry. He's not sure what to say.

"You just... you just don't know what it feels like!" I cry. "To go from being told you're so dirty and gross to be loved like this..." I can't describe what I'm feeling. All I can do is just cry into him. "I never imagined that someone could ever love my body like this."

He holds me, and chuckles, "Honey, I love you. You are so beautiful, so sexy, I love every part of you. He was a moron you smell so good baby." He holds me tight to him.

I calm down and he kisses my cheek wet from tears. He makes sure I look into his eyes and he asks if he can continue making me cum, he's not done yet. I bashfully nod my approval.

He kisses my stomach as he crawls down in between my legs again. He smells me more, pulling my lips wide. He licks and sucks at me more and more. I'm in emotional ecstasy, and he makes a show of smelling me as much as he can. Big, deep breaths. He makes me cum twice more.

I feel vulnerable, close. He moves up to kiss him and I taste sweet on his mouth. But then he shows me his very hard dick, and he tells him he needs to fuck me, the smell of my pussy has made him rock hard...

to be continued.

Formspring Friday: Age limits in attraction

Q. When it comes to romantic involvement or sexual attraction/activity, do you have an upper or lower age limit?
Yes, I definitely do. I prefer an age range very close to my own. Younger I would only go a couple of years. Older I'd be OK up to 5. Any more than that and I feel that we're too far apart and your viewpoints in life. I've been in three "relationships" and my first two were with men who were about 2 years older than me. My BF is a year younger than me.

Age is generally a number to me. I've always been more mature than my age and ahead of my peers in life, so going younger was never an option before the BF. I've never wanted to go up too far in age. It seemed weird or uncomfortable. If you look like you could be the older sibling of my partner, I start to distance. It's just not for me.

Now, that is all addressed toward a relationship. If you're talking just romantic involvement, like a potential future girlfriend for me, then the age limits increase in both directions by a few years.

I posed the same question to my BF, and his answer was exactly what I expected. He said as long as they're 18 and legal or younger than 60, that's all that matters to him. His range of sexual attraction is quite wide and varied.


Q. Other than on the lips, what is your favorite place to be kissed?
For me, my second favorite place to be kissed is on the side of my neck. Or the bottom of my feet. Both places turn me on very much with very little touch. Both are very intimate touches. My neck can be kissed during a hug or during sex... my feet are normally kissed while we are cuddling on the couch or in bed or having sex.

My BF's answer is, simply, "on my penis." Yeah, I could have predicted that.

Am I a demisexual?

So I was browsing the forums on Eden Fantasys and came across a poll on how you would label yourself if you had to. The options were ones that I was mostly familiar with (I never claimed to be an expert!). Aside from hetero/gay/lesbian/bi there were options of pan/omni/asexual/other and then ones I wasn't sure belonged such as trans/intersexed and one I'm not sure where it goes - bi-curious. (You can see the current results and forum discussion here.)

Anyway, midway through the comments I saw a post about someone who identified themselves as a demisexual. I've never heard of this term, and neither had a lot of the discussion board members.  Finally, someone submitted the authoritative definition from Urban Dictionary:

Demisexuals are characterized by a lack of sexual attraction toward any person unless they become deeply emotionally or romantically connected with a specific person or persons. The level of connection it takes for sexual desire to form is dependent on how close the relationship is rather than initial attraction. It is an orientation that is not chosen. 

Hmm. Now that rings some bells for me. I've said for years that personality beats physical attraction hands down for me, but I'm not so sure that's specifically what this definition means. Its really about how you're not attracted until there is some connection between you and the other person. 

I really identify with this. I have a very hard time being sexually attracted through imagery alone. It just doesn't work for me. I also can't be attracted to you if I think you're an asshole. I'm only ever attracted to someone with whom I've interacted and I like personality wise.  I can't get past that, I won't even look at you 'that way' until you've won me over emotionally. I have to be your friend first.

But then I think back on history... I've had crushes on guys without knowing them, or have locked eyes and felt that drop in your stomach when you've looked too long or too directly. That thrill of a look lingering, or a joke being exchanged when others don't notice. Another reason my ex and I didn't work out is that I just wasn't attracted to him - at all, in any way. 

But then I've found girls to be appealing too, and I've never had a sexual-type relationship bond with a woman, but I sure do find them attractive. But then, am I finding them attractive or just their body parts?  And what about men?

When I look at a clothed man, I look at his hands, body type, face. A naked man, I look at penis, shoulders, and body type. I'll also look at his ass if its in view. When I look at a clothed woman, I look at her face, hair, body type, and breasts. A naked woman I look at her pussy, breasts, nipples, legs, then face.  

Basically, I objectify you if you're naked, but if you're clothed I look at all of you. But isn't that the way most of us use porn or porn-type images? I look at the picture for sexual excitement, not to see who you are. 

So back to real life. Let's talk about my boyfriend. Way, way back before we were flirting I looked him up online (I can online stalk pretty well... so watch yourselves!) and, while I don't remember what picture he had up on facebook, I remember not thinking anything about it. It could be because most of his face was probably hidden so I couldn't see much. Fast forward after we've been flirting for a few months - yeah, I found him attractive. Really attractive.

Fast forward to us getting to the point talking about our sexual orientations, what we liked in bed, and daaaaamn my pussy was on fire for him. When we started having phone sex I was cumming so hard and good - better than I've ever cum with my fingers before. And when we started skype sexing? Wow oh wow. My first multiple orgasms. And then sex? Read about our first night of sex here and here (you know if its a 2-parter its got a LOT of detail...).

So has physical attraction upped the pleasure factor for me? Without a doubt, it has. Can I feel attraction for someone without that personal attraction? I don't think so - not attraction that would lead to any real world experiences. I can't fantasize about someone who I don't know personally - its impossible. I can't picture anything sexual with someone unless I have some mental affection for them.

BF's ass after a few min after spanking. I find it so sexy.

So am I demisexual? Maybe. Does it really matter? No, not really. But its interesting to think about. Where are you at?

Formspring Friday: Naked pictures of me

Q. Why haven't you posted any hot nude photos of yourself? We know you're gorgeous and we want to see!
Interesting question. Aside from my twitter profile picture, the only photos of me on this blog are, so far, my feet and a flash of my boobs. Despite posting about my change in self-confidence and being in a sex-positive relationship, I'll admit to be unhappy with the state of my body right now... to the point that I don't like showing it to anyone but the BF.

 

 

 

 

 

BF's reaction is kinda like this. Or it feels like this to me.

 The BF's reaction to my body is undeniable attraction. He can't keep his hands off me, and when I flash my body or dress scantily around the house, he loves it.  I can't get enough of his reactions to me. But does that mean I'm comfortable when I look in the mirror? No, not really. I can see beauty and even better, the potential of beauty. I take a picture I think will be sexy -- but I see a lot of flaws.

I told the BF about this question, and he wanted to also know my reason. Why hadn't I? As far as he's concerned, I can post everything except my face. He thinks I'm beautiful and sexy, what's not to like? When I told him it was because I didn't like the flaws, he didn't know what I meant. What flaws?  Well, the fat and the stretch marks I have. He said, "Honey, those aren't flaws... those are a beautiful parts of you."

Well, until I can see that or I'm more comfortable showing more parts of me, they will remain a mystery I think. I do like to play with the camera... a few weeks ago when I took the bathtub photos of my feet I took a bunch more of my body for the BF - lots of pussy shots just for him.  The other night I took out the camera while he and I were both in lingerie and we got some terrific shots of my boobs.

My boobs are about the only part of me I'm comfortable sharing right now - cause they are fantastic. Perhaps my pussy will one day make an appearance... I'm not sure why I'm stuck on this idea that it has to be "perfect" to post. In the pictures I have its unshaven about three weeks after my last Brazilian wax, so its kind of hairy. I'm not sure why it has to be either full bush or bare for me to think its share-worthy. Truth is, I love my pussy regardless of the amount of hair. And so does the BF. I'll have to think about that.

But for now, a boob pic for you to enjoy:

Yes, my boobs are filling the cup area and spilling out the top.

 Want to ask me a question? Just head to formspring.me/billikesscifi and ask anything you want. Really. Anything. Try me. I'll answer the following Friday.

The look in the eyes

Every evening we are normally on our computers in the office. He is normally gaming while I am blogging, catching up on emails, or writing. (Blogging takes a lot of time!) We're always chit chatting and constantly interrupting the other with hugs, kisses, and sexy comments that turn the other on and disrupt concentration (another reason blogging takes so long).

Last night "the look" came up somehow. He feigned ignorance and I reminded him, "You know, THE LOOK. The one we have when we're having sex sometimes... that look." He couldn't play dumb for long, as the smile broke out across his face. Yes, he's aware of the look.

The look doesn't always make its appearance. Frequently his face his buried in my breasts or in my neck kissing me during sex. My eyes are typically close as I cannot keep them open while I'm orgasming or even close to an orgasm. But sometimes, with an effort... the look happens and when it does, I don't see anything but him.

It starts when we lock eyes. And then it stays. And for some breaths it says. We kiss, and our eyes are open, looking, staring. He is thrusting or I am rocking but the other is stopped, transfixed in time. The mouths are open, but there are no words. Just shallow breathing. Shared air.

The best sex either of us have had in our lives was in January. I came home from work stressed out beyond recognition.  I went straight to bed and started crying. He was there with me, holding me to him, letting me wet his shirt in my tears. He held me so very tight that day. He kissed my forehead and my cheeks. He told me he would be there for me, it would work out. It was OK. As I calmed down his kisses started moving closer to my mouth and then down my neck. What followed was the most passionate, moving, and incredible sex I'd ever imagined possible.

The look first made its appearance there. At one point I was riding him in cowgirl and I was moving very slowly. His hands were on my back and I was bent over him. Our eyes were locked for what felt like hours. The emotional state of the room was intoxicating. I remember looking at him and thinking this was the most beautiful, joyous, ardent moment of my life. I never wanted it to end. Then he said, "I want this to last forever." 

What followed was so intimate and so beautiful I didn't tweet about it and I won't describe it here. Its ours. Forever.

Every once in a while that look resurfaces. It may be for a few moments, it may just be for a second. The longer we hold it, the more intense the sex becomes.  Sometimes he orders me to look at him, or our eyes meet by accident and we both hold it.

The look surfaced last night. It wasn't planned, even though we talked about it. We just looked. And looked. And then he breathed "I love you" to me. I almost started crying - it was so intense, and I was so freaking happy. I managed to say it back, barely. We kissed, lips just touching. Our mouths were open, lips touch, and we shared breath as he fucked me slowly, our eyes still locked. I broke into a smile, and he asked me why I was smiling. My eyes pricked with tears again. I lost my words.

He buried himself in my neck and kissed me and kissed me.

On being sex postive pt2

Note: This is a continuation of my prior blog post about how I was in a long sex negative relationship and how I eventually escaped it by standing up for myself and what I wanted. This post is about recovering from the emotional damage and finding confidence in  yourself. 

In this post, I am brutally honest about me and my insecurities. In sharing this part of me, I hope I can show one person that has felt like I did or experienced what I have, see that there is something better out there.

At first glance, the BF liked what he saw in a few pictures of me. All I saw was an overweight, uncomfortable and awkward girl that didn't feel anywhere near cute or pretty or sexy. I saw beauty in my eyes, hair, and boobs, but everything else was... well, I didn't want to think about it.

These are my boobs.

Now he wanted more pictures. He wanted pictures of my feet. That was easy - I do have nice feet. Were they sexy? How was I supposed to know? Apparently they are because he jacked off to them the day he get my pictures. I remember modeling my feet, trying to figure out what the best angle was. In the end, I figured I couldn't go too wrong with feet.

We started skyping, and what he saw through my clothes he seemed to like, but I was so uncertain about going further. What if he decided he didn't like it? What if he wasn't attracted to me? What if he were disgusted or repelled by all the extra fat on my body? Would he care about my stretch marks, brought on by rapid weight gain from depression and medical issues? What about my extra body hair, where I have to pluck and tweeze and shave and wax almost every day?

He complimented me on my looks. It was uncomfortable. I didn't believe him. I couldn't see what he was saying - when I looked in the mirror, I hated what I saw. I hated to even watch the little window in the Skype screen that showed what I looked like. It wasn't pretty -- to me.

Eventually he asked to see my boobs. I have beautiful boobs, in my opinion, so I allowed it. When I pulled my dress down and showed them, he gave a little gasp and called them "Perfect." He loved the size of my DD's... my large areolae that are the lightest pink, and my big nipples. He didn't care about or even see the flaws that I thought might be there. I feared my nipples were too small, they pointed down rather than up, they were lower on my chest than I wanted. But to him they were perfect. He never called them anything else. He jacked off to me, watching me play with them. I began to believe him.

But then he wanted more. He wanted to see my ass. And now I was almost terrified. There was no way he would think my butt was nice. No one had ever complimented it. Ever. He asked and I said no for days. He kept asking. He seemed to like what he saw when I was fully clothed, but clothing could hide a lot. But he was so in love and interested in me, how could I resist? So one day I showed him. My back turned, facing away so he could see my butt, I heard nothing but a happy sound and he was telling me my ass was sexy, incredible, so beautiful. Exactly the kind of ass he loved.

And them my stomach. My stomach which is the biggest part of me, the most frustrating part. It's fine, despite its stretch marks and a fat roll that ends just above my pussy. He calls it sexy, he loves to see it, feel it. He doesn't care how it looks when I'm in my corsets or interferes with my underwear or strap-on harness. It's a sexy tummy for him.

I felt a change starting to take place in me. It was incredible, this feeling that someone could see me as beautiful or sexy.  Was it possible he could really like me for me, just as I am?

Fast forward a few weeks, and we are now skype masturbating together. I keep the camera focused on my chest and face. He coaches me through multiple orgasms, the first ones I've ever experienced. Afterwards, I flip on my stomach, still naked, head resting on my hands, giggling and talking with him. He asks me to shift the camera so he can see more of me. I turn it, so he can see some of my back, ass, and thighs. He loves the view. At some point he makes me laugh, and when I do my ass rises in the air slightly. He notices and his attention is drawn there. I lay my head down and push my ass up. His response is burned forever in my memory: He jumps up in his chair, punches the air, huge smile on my face, slight growl escaping his lips.

I ask him what is going on. He says, "Ohh god, you're so fucking beautiful! I can't get over it!" And I break into a smile, blushing red. He sees it immediately, and I'm hiding my face out of shyness. I'm overcome with this warmness in my heart, this joy infecting my soul. I'm convinced: to him, I am as beautiful as he could want me to be. Whatever the flaws and imperfections I see are unimportant and he sees only beauty there.

Time has passed since that moment, but I will never forget it. Every day he tells me over and over I'm beautiful, I'm sexy, I'm pretty, I'm perfect, I'm cute. He can't keep his eyes and hands off me. I totally and completely believe him.

But more importantly, I believe in myself. Beauty comes in different packages. I am going to work on getting back to the shape that I prefer for myself. I've started that journey and will continue it. But I am no longer trapped into one version of myself that is beautiful and the current version is not. That's not how it works. 

One of the keys to great sex is confidence in yourself. Without it, you'll never like who you are and it will show. Your partner will sense it but will have no clue on how to fix it. The only one who can fix it is you. You have to be willing to take the risk, trust in yourself, believe what that special someone sees in you. Find reasons to like it in yourself.  It has amazed me as I've wandered around twitter and tumblr how much "beautiful" is described in forms I would never have guessed. It isn't what you see on the newstands and in movies! Its variety in every size and shape and color of boob, areola, and nipple. I've seen tiny ones and huge ones I didn't know could exist - and I see hundreds of "reblogs" under all of these images, because so many people likes and appreciates them and want to jerk off to them.

Does that mean everyone likes everyone? Not necessarily, we all have our own tastes. If you are with someone who doesn't like YOU - and by you, I mean ALL of YOU - then fucking move on with your life. You don't deserve to be unhappy and feel bad about yourself with someone. Fix what you don't like if you can and find that someone who thinks you're absolutely gorgeous just as you are.

Beauty is never just about looks, its about personality, too. At the end of the day, a bitch is still a bitch no matter how great she looks. She's a short term attraction, kind of like a carnival ride. But no one wants a carnival ride for life. They want to go to the carnival and then go home and live life. My BF and I started out as anonymous friends before the physical attraction was in play. We were attracted mentally and (yay!) physically to each other. That is the winning combo.