According to maverick1255, my Cake Personality reveals:
"Lemon Meringue - Smooth, sexy and articulate with your hands, you are an excellent after-dinner speaker and a good teacher. But don't try to walk and chew gum at the same time. A bit of a diva at times, but you have many friends."
Scarily accurate, apart from the fact that I'd never try and chew gum any time, let alone while doing something else. I'm so poor at multi-tasking, you know, that I forget to talk during phone sex if my hands are busy....
Now, before that distracts you completely, don't forget to check out my blog (especially those filthy, filthy stories ) ...
Oh, and if you're thinking about sex, please read Just fucking fuck me, already.. It encapsulates my thoughts and wishes very clearly.
This is a drama-free zone. Fakes, multiprofilers and people who write nasty comments about other people will not find a forum here.
This was sent to me in an e-mail hoping to pique my interest. I found it very funny, and worth repeating here. I hope, however, that doing so does not weaken my correspondent's chances with other ladies, as I imagine it is a recycling job...
I would like to play a game of golf with you!! here are the rules!!
1. Each player shall furnish his own equipment for play - normally one club and two balls.
2. Play on a course must be approved by the owner of the hole.
3. Unlike outdoor golf, the object is to get the club in the hole and keep the balls out.
4. For most effective play, the club should have a firm shaft. Course owners are permitted to check shaft stiffness before play begins.
5. Course owners reserve the right to restrict club length to avoid damage to the hole.
6. The object of the game is to take as many strokes as necessary until the course owner is satisfied that play is complete. Failure to do so may result in being denied permission to play the course again.
7. It is considered bad form to begin playing the hole immediately upon arrival at the course. The experienced player will normally take time to admire the entire course with special attention to well formed bunkers.
8. Players are cautioned not to mention other courses they have played, or are currently playing, to the owner of the course being played. Upset course owners have been known to damage players equipment for this reason.
9. Players are encouraged to bring proper rain gear for their own protection.
10. Players should ensure themselves that their match has been properly scheduled, particularly when a new course is being played for the first time. Previous players have been known to become irate if they discover someone else playing on what they considered to be a private course.
11. Players should not assume a course is in shape for play at all times. Some players may be embarrassed if they find the course to be temporarily under repair. Players are advised to be extremely tactful in this situation. More advanced players will find alternative means of play when this is the case.
12. The course owner is responsible for manicuring and pruning any bush around the hole to allow for improved viewing of, alignment with, and approach to the hole.
13. Players are advised to obtain the course owners permission before attempting to play the back nine.
14. Slow play is encouraged. However, players should be prepared to proceed at a quicker pace, at least temporarily, at the course owner's request. (Course time is four - five hours)
15. It is considered outstanding performance, time permitting, to play the same hole several times in one match.
Please don't tell me to be politically correct and avoid stereoptypes - I'll tell you now, I nicked this joke because it's so bloody funny!
Two Mexicans are stuck in the desert, wandering aimlessly and close to death.
They are close to just lying down and waiting for the inevitable, when all of a sudden...
"Hey Pepe, do you smell what I smell. Ees bacon, I is sure of eet."
"Si, Luis, eet smells like bacon to meee".
So, with renewed strength, they struggle off up the next sand dune and there, in the distance, is a tree, just loaded with bacon. There's raw bacon, dripping with moisture, there's fried bacon, back bacon, double smoked bacon...every imaginable kind of cured pig meat you can imagine!!
"Pepe, Pepe, we ees saved. Eees a bacon tree".
"Luis, are sure ees not a meerage? We ees in the desert, don' forget".
"Pepe, when deed you ever hear of a meerage that smeell of bacon...ees no meerage, ees a bacon tree".
And with that...Luis races towards the tree. He gets to within 5 metres, Pepe following closely behind, when all of a sudden, a machine gun opens up, and Luis is cut down in his tracks. It is clear he is mortally wounded but, true friend that he is, he manages to warn Pepe with his dying breath.
"Pepe...go back man, you was right, ees not a bacon tree"
I thought I did, but I don't think I do. I thought it showed the last 10 visitors to your blog, and if you click on the link you can see the list of all visitors to your blog.
But if that's the case, how come I have posts on my blog from people who have not appeared in the "last 10 visitors" list?
I suppose it is conceivable that they were in there earlier, but their data got overwritten by a whole bunch of people who had been in my blog earlier coming back later. But it seems unlikely.
Smosmof2 - any ideas? You seem to be the expert on this sort of thing.
I can hardly breathe. In less than an hour, my world has turned upside down, the entire basis of my marriage completely altered. I feel like I am standing on quicksand.
The woman who is not my wife has her hand on my chest, asking permission to undo my shirt buttons.
The woman who is my wife is watching lustfully. She has already given her permission.
I swallow nervously. I mean, shit, what man wouldn’t want this? But I can’t help fearing something will go horribly wrong. It is one thing for me to see my wife having sex with another woman, but what will happen if I have sex with another woman?
The same woman, in fact.
Her name is Linda, and she’s pretty stunning, I have to agree. Nonetheless, my fear has travelled south. Neither woman knows it yet, but I’m going to have difficulty having sex with either of them at this rate.
Linda starts to undo my shirt, cooing sexily at me as her hands run over my chest, exploring my nipples, tickling my ribs. She smiles cheekily at Fiona.
“Think he’s a bit shell-shocked?”
Off comes my shirt and gets thrown to the floor. She undoes the buckle on my belt, looking me right in the eyes as she does so. I gulp, and try to smile confidently. Up, dammit, up!
She unzips my trousers and drops them to my ankles. Her hands run down my legs as she pulls down my boxers, and she gradually comes to her knees right in front of my dead-playing cock. I close my eyes in shame and wait for the giggle.
A wet mouth encloses my cock, and I feel light pressure as she gently sucks on it. Then, suddenly, I feel a tongue probing my balls. I open my eyes in surprise: my God, Fiona is down there as well!
I breathe in deeply and try to focus. You have not one but two sexy women sucking you off at this moment in time, you lucky bastard. The least you can do is show them some appreciation. Oh God, it feels so good. That little sucking thing she’s doing with her mouth is bliss And – oh! – Fiona has just taken one of my balls into her mouth and is rolling it around over her tongue!
At last, the guy in charge of the dick comes off his lunch break, and the hydraulics system kicks in. Linda mmmmmmmmms as I start to grow inside her hot little mouth and I enjoy the reverberations. Now she can feel the head of my cock, she flicks her tongue around it and pokes it into the slit at the top.
Fiona has moved her mouth to my other ball, and is giving that equal attention, while gently stroking the first with her fingertips. Nice.
Ooh, that’s more like it. Yes! My cock is now proudly standing to attention, ready to service as many women as required. I breathe a sigh of relief.
The girls stand back to admire their handiwork. Fiona smiles wickedly at me.
“We want you to lie on the bed.” I eagerly lie on my back in the middle of the bed, wondering what pleasure they have in store for me. Mmmm, Fiona opens the wardrobe and delves into our little toy section, bringing out a handful of silky scarves. She comes over to the bed and dangles them over my body, tickling me with them.
Linda comes to the other side of the bed, takes a couple of scarves and starts to tie my wrist to the corner post. Fiona does likewise. I smile up at them.
“Tie away, girls!” I merrily say. I like a bit of bondage play, and with two women rather than one, it’s going to be even more fun than usual.
With my legs tied as well, the two of them kneel on either side of my body and lean in to kiss each other deeply, hands wantonly roaming over nipples and cunts. What a sight! My cock has never been so hard as this before. I ache to touch them, but they are just out of reach. I strain my head upwards, but it’s no good. I’ll just have to watch.
Making eye contact with me, Linda reaches over and puts two fingers inside Fiona’s pussy, rhythmically moving them in and out as my wife starts to moan. Then she withdraws her fingers and hovers them over my mouth, just out of reach. She gently wipes Fiona’s wetness on the end of my nose, so I have her smell so close yet so far.
I moan with desire and groan in frustration.
Fiona does likewise, sliding her fingers deeply into Linda’s pussy and masturbating her while kissing her deeply. Then she too trails her wet sticky fingers in front of my face, this time smearing them around my lips. My tongue snakes out to grab a taste. Delicious!
Linda moves herself so her knees are on either side of my head and I have a perfect view of her beautiful pussy. She’s just too high for me to reach – I know, because I try it. She grins down at me.
“Didn’t you learn about Tantalus at school?” she queries teasingly. Tantalising – just out of reach. Never did I learn the lesson so well as just now.
And now my lovely wife straddles me. I look through Linda’s legs and wait for her to slide me inside her. But she doesn’t.
Instead, she positions herself so that my cock is sliding against her slippery pussy, without being able to gain access, however much I wriggle and push. She raises her eyebrows at me in a smile and then leans forward to lick Linda’s clitoris.
Holy fuck. Her tongue is within inches of mine as I watch her lick her lover closer and closer to orgasm. I am mesmerised by Linda’s pussy lips blushing a deeper and deeper red, while drips of pussy juice drop right onto my face. I hold my tongue out to catch every drop, and briefly Fiona flicks her tongue against mine before returning to Linda’s snatch.
I hear her moaning. “Oh yesss, baby.... that’s good ..... oh, give it to me there”. She’s about to come, right above my face! My cock is quivering with excitement. I want to be in her, I want to be in Fiona, I just .... want .... to .... come.
“Fuck me, baby” I beg Fiona breathlessly, desperately trying to push into her. “Please, fuck me. Please” I wheedle.
And all the while I’m begging my wife to fuck me, I can’t take my eyes off the action above my head, waiting with bated breath to see Linda’s pussy suddenly contract and spasm as she comes. I want to see it so badly, want to feel her juices all over my face.
And suddenly, oh bliss! Fiona slips back onto my cock and slides me inside her in one easy move. Oh! I think I’m going to come without even moving inside her.
But even as I try to formulate this thought, Fiona pulls back from Linda’s pussy, and Linda suddenly slips lower on her knees so she is sitting right on my face and now she’s coming all over me, moaning and groaning as my tongue shoots up inside her, furiously rubbing against the front of her pussy.
I start to shoot my hot spunk inside Fiona, jerking madly, still holding on to Linda’s pussy with my lips and trying to breathe at the same time. Fuck, this would be the absolute best way to die!
Aug 16, 2006 1:48 am Mood: disappointed, 593 Views
OK, I feel sick that I feel the need to post this, but it was weighing on me the moment I woke up.
I made the mistake of reading all the postings about DustyWidget, and all the horrible things that are being said about him.
Let me stress, this not a post about DustyWidget. I have no opinion on who is in the right and who is in the wrong and I don't want people to start venting about it on here.
No, what this post is about is human nature.
Salem 1930s Germany Wartime France 1960s America
Bullies
I want no part of your pathetic behaviour. Whether you are right or whether you are wrong is irrelevant.
You say that DW is being investigated by the Adult FriendFinder authorities. Well, fine, if that's true - and if it's not I hope he sues the arse off every last one of you.
But if he is being investigated, why on earth do you still start a controversy in the blogs about him? I mean, AtomicArtist, you don't even have the balls to name him (oh yes, I'm digging deep within my heart at the moment, and I know exactly what I feel: sick).
This kind of behaviour was called bullying when I went to school, and it's even more despicable in grown-ups.
Bullies may tell the truth, but they are not nice people.
And, going on from that comment, I'm also disappointed to discover the extent to which some bullies have been acting in concert behind the scenes.
OK, so some Cliticals' posts were taken from other sources. But, BaronessK went to the trouble of sourcing the original articles?? Wow. Such devotion.
So, you guys are all in cahoots, then? Some destroy people's reputations in ther blogs, some have the minor role of joining the hunting pack (are cowards any better than bullies?), and others are doing all the digging in the background.
Who's doing the digging on DW, then? Or do you have one person doing the financial stuff, another doing the "rip him to shreds" posts and someone else to monitor the websites he visits??
And who is next on your list of people to destroy?
Shit. Nice people...not.
Can I just make it clear, Hydragenias, that I would be ashamed to call any of these people my friends.
(OK, normal service will shortly be resumed. You can expect a new story to balance the mood soon)
We are lying in bed, cuddling and giggling after an energetic and sexy session when he first suggests the idea to me.
He wants me to surrender control to him while he makes love to me, ties me up. I nod enthusiastically. We’ve dabbled with light bondage before, silk scarves and the like.
“I mean, really surrender control to me, babe. You have to trust me implicitly,” he warns. And still I nod. It sounds great. Of course I trust him.
And so, one evening after a romantic dinner, we end up back at his place. I lie naked on the bed, languidly offering myself to him. He leans down to kiss me, and runs his finger down my cheek.
“Back in a sec,” he whispers, and I close my eyes blissfully. His weight on the mattress causes me to open them. I start, seeing some sort of kinky bondage gear in his hands and look up at him for reassurance.
“Trust me, babe,” he whispers, and he starts to put the leather chain around my neck, checking it is secure but not too tight. There are straps that lead off it, and he attaches these to the top posts of the bed.
OK, now I can’t lift off from the bed, or move my body from side to side. I’m a little anxious about this now, but he bends down to reassure me, and to kiss me. We maintain eye contact.
I have to trust him. I have agreed to trust him. I will trust him.
I realise that there are handcuffs attached to the straps which are attached to the bedposts, and he raises each wrist in turn to enclose them. Wide-eyed, I watch. This is getting quite freaky now. He runs his fingertips along the exposed base of my breasts and smiles at me.
I find myself assessing that smile – is it a kind smile or a wicked smile? Because if it is wicked, I want out of here now! But I see nothing but love in his eyes.
I allow him to continue.
Although I’m unnerved, I’m also very turned on, intrigued by the situation. I can feel the wetness between my thighs.
He cuffs my legs to the bottom bed posts, so now I’m spreadeagled and unable to move. I tell myself this is no different from the silk scarves we’ve used in bondage play before, but I know I’m a lot more securely tied now.
He leans forward to kiss me deeply, and then unexpectedly slips a blindfold over my eyes. Mmmm, quite sexy not being able to see as he drops kisses onto my nipples and then alternating each side as he moves down to my belly button. I moan quietly.
His weight lifts off the mattress and the room goes quiet for a moment. I hear a muffled sound in the corridor, sort of like the rip of duct tape. A moment later, I again feel him sit beside me.
He whispers to me “I love you”. I whisper it back with a smile.
Suddenly, alarmingly, he presses some kind of tape over my mouth. Oh fuck. It was duct tape! And now I can’t speak or see.
This is beyond a joke. I start to struggle, trying to speak, but all that comes out of my mouth is muffled noises. He grabs one of my nipples and pinches it sharply.
Aaaaarrrgghhh! What the fuck is he doing? I manically try to shake him off my body, but the more I struggle, the harder he pinches. Fuck, it hurts. I can feel tears in my eyes. The bastard! I trusted him, and now he’s hurting me.
The fight goes out of me, and I flop back limply onto the bed. Immediately, he lets go of my nipple, and tenderly kisses it. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “Just don’t struggle. Trust me.”
Trust him! Yeah, right. I really feel like trusting him now! But what option do I have? None. So I surrender control to him and lie back to see what happens.
He gently strokes my ears, and then without warning pops in a pair of earplugs. Shit! Now I’m deaf as well as blind and mute. I’m totally disorientated now, and getting quite frightened. What the fuck is going on?
I concentrate on not allowing my panic to rise to the surface. Focus on trusting him. We have been together five years, and he has never let me down before. If he says I can trust him, I can do so, however weird it’s all becoming.
If we exclude the nipple incident, he hasn’t hurt me.
Yet.
Thanks, mind. Screw me up completely, why don’t you? Shut the fuck up.
Nothing happens for a few moments. I strain, to see if I can hear anything, sense any movement, but I’m completely cut off. Sensory deprivation is scary stuff, I conclude.
And suddenly, unexpectedly, it starts.
I feel his tongue licking the soles of my feet, between my toes and over the top of my feet. First the left foot, and then the right. It’s ticklish, and I wiggle my feet around to shake him off, but there’s little I can do.
And anyway, he’s moving on now, up my legs. Little fluttery kisses dropped all the way up my legs, each in turn. It’s nice. I wish I could moan in pleasure, but of course I’m mute. The feeling is thus internalised and exacerbated.
Finally, he kisses on top of my pubic mound. I mentally will him to move a little further south, slide his tongue over my clitoris, but he doesn’t.
There is another short pause, and then I start slightly as I feel something spread on my pubic mound. Sort of cold and wet, like a mousse of some sort. My mind searches for connections.
The minute I feel the razor slice through it, I know what he is doing. He is shaving my trimmed pussy hair. I feel a tingle of excitement. Oh my God, he certainly knows how to turn me on!
The razor glides over me expertly, and then he starts to foam and shave the trickier area underneath. My naked pubic mound feels exposed and vulnerable. And really sexy.
A hand under my bottom raises me up slightly. He’s even shaving right round to my arse! I spread my legs as far as I can, to help him. My pussy is dripping, and I ache to feel him touch me down there. But all I feel is the razor as it takes off every stray hair.
Smooth and hairless now, he wipes me with a warm wet flannel and then puts my bottom back onto the sheet. I am breathing deeply through my nose now. My chest is heaving. He must be able to sense my excitement. I try to whimper through my nose to get his attention, but he ignores it.
Another pause.
He moves up to my chest and runs his fingertips along the base of my breasts, and then onto my nipples. He follows this with his tongue. My nipples are hard and angry, begging for release. Again, I will him to touch my clitoris, but nothing happens.
He continues to tease my nipples mercilessly. Suddenly, he stops. Another blank moment, while my mind desperately tries to work out what’s coming next.
Aarrrgggh! Cold water dripped on my nipples from above. Really fucking cold. I reckon he’s melting an ice cube or something in each hand. The drips come down over both nipples randomly. I never know where the next one is going to land.
I’m ready to explode now. My body is so sensitised, each sensation so intense. Surely, surely, it must be time for him to make me come?
And suddenly, there he is, between my thighs. I feel the tip of his tongue on my clitoris, and that’s all I need for my orgasm to shatter us both. My body jerks violently, I try to groan through the duct tape. Fuck, it’s intense. It’s so good.
But instead of stopping, allowing my body to recover after that explosion, he carries on licking and sucking. I try to wriggle free from his tongue. It’s so sensitive down there now. Stop, I mentally beg him! Stop! But still he carries on, ignoring me.
And suddenly, unexpectedly, from left-field, I am hit by the most earth-shattering explosion I have ever felt. Oh fuck! I’m going to die of pleasure! My God! What kind of a mega-orgasm is this? I suddenly realise I can hear my own muffled screams of pleasure.
So this is what multi-orgasmic means. Fuck. Yes please. YES PLEASE.
Wave after wave of orgasm hits me as he carries on licking me and teasing me for I don’t know how long. Repeatedly, my body arches in a new release. I am exhausted and thrilled at the same time, almost sobbing into the duct tape. I can’t take much more of this sweet torture.
Suddenly, he rips off the duct tape, the blindfold and knocks the earplugs out of my ears, then covers my face with soft kisses, staring deeply into my eyes as he moves his body ready to slip himself inside me for one final, earth-shattering explosion.
Funintheday2006 has outed The Cliticals as fakes because their picture actually comes from a porn site. And goodness me, hasn’t he gone off on one? Even to the extent of comparing their actions to Munchausen’s By Proxy as an attempt to gain attention.
Of course, it wasn’t him who looked into all this and did all the digging, you understand. Gosh, that would be really sad. It’s just that another blogger dug it all up and decided to pass on the information on to him. Maybe he has internationally recognised standing as an Adult FriendFinder policeman?
Anyway, the information was given to him for some reason, and he feels forced to act by telling all his dear blog readers.
Woa, hold up there a moment, baby!
Let’s look at this in more detail....
Firstly, that’s a serious charge. Munchausen’s By Proxy is a very serious psychological disorder, resulting in women (usually) harming their babies and then “rescuing” them in order to gain attention. It may have a silly name, but let’s not downgrade it to a joke. These people need help, not to be laughed at, especially not by someone who works in psychology.
And we are comparing this to a couple of gals (if that’s what they are) putting up a fake picture on Adult FriendFinder? Hardly comparable.
And, by extrapolation, he says that they have constructed fake personae etc, which makes them really sad. So, where’s your proof, Fun? As far as I can see, the only “evidence” is the fake pic – and that itself is probably fake on the original site anyway.
I had to laugh, when the “true” identity of the real lesbians was revealed. Yes, babe, of course those are their names, of course they are lesbians, yes of course all those photos are real.
Are you insane? (Objection: I withdraw that question. Of course he is)
If The Cliticals are fake, why shouldn’t the information on the original site be equally fake? It almost certainly is. You think those are the girls’ real names? Yeah, right, and I charm snakes naked on the top of the Empire State Building for a living. They are probably two bored housewives needing to make a living to put their kids through school since their partners deserted them. It just pays more if guys all over the world think they get off on licking each other out.
So, the photo for The Cliticals’ site was lifted. It’s not that big a crime, and there are pics lifted all over the place – does everyone personally photograph every picture they use on their blog? Hell, I admitted myself that I lifted my new pic, because I think it’s a lovely scene. It doesn’t mean I want anyone to think I look like a sunset.
Onto the charge about fake personae. Fun suggests that the blog might actually be written by a sad old man (ha ha, guys, and you all sent in cock pics – I’ve got to say, the mere possibility of that being true has me wetting myself, and not in an aroused way), rather than by two bisexual women.
Possible. Or it could be written by one woman. Or it could be written by two lesbians. Or by two straight women. Or – get this – by two bisexual women.
Who just happen not to look like The Cliticals’ picture.
Or maybe they do look a bit like that, but thought that picture was more flattering than one they could provide.
I have often read The Cliticals’ blog. It’s very funny, and it is often quite thought-provoking. And I will go on record and say, hand on heart, there is no way it is written by a man.
Whatever you think of women’s so-called intuition, a woman’s mind is a complicated place, and it is really, really hard for a man to write as a woman and fool not one but maybe hundreds of women. And to do so on a regular basis.
Hell, any man that clever, I’d want to meet him. Because he would be extraordinary.
So girls, come on, tell me if you have ever seen any hint of inauthenticity (ie written by a male) on The Cliticals’ blog? Because I sure as hell haven’t. It is definitely written by at least one woman, and quite possibly by two.
And whether the details of their personae are accurate or not doesn’t really matter. It is there to entertain, to amuse, to make us think. Does the blog do these things any less, just because the picture is fake? Of course it doesn’t.
So, the blog is written to get attention – hot picture, nice little reminders that they might be having sex with each other or with occasional lucky blokes who come across their path, entertaining writing, thought-provoking ideas (hey, communist Smurfs! Inspired). And why shouldn’t it be? There are enough boring blogs on this site – you read one and wonder why you wasted your time caring whether X chose a red tie or a blue tie this morning.
Let’s say for argument’s sake that The Cliticals are two fat and ugly women (don’t get me wrong – I make no judgement on these terms; society does). Well, whatever they look like, they are fucking talented and their blog is well worth the read. And if it took a fake picture to draw people in to find that out, well that is an indictment of the readers, not the writers.
We live in an –ist society. Racist, ageist, lookist. Name your –ist: we are all guilty.
And if you’re a fat and ugly person, especially a woman, you’re invisible. You know it’s true.
These stereotypes are so pervasive, I am fighting the urge to tell you I’m not either of those things – even I, who does not go in for peer pressure, can feel the pressure of societal norms on this. Well, hang it, I don’t care what you think I look like. Imagine all you like. Yes, I have warts on the end of my nose, and my intestines stick out of my arse. Happy now?
Can you think of a better way to get your revenge on a society that totally ignores you than by tricking people into appreciating your true talents? I can’t. Rock on, girls.
And why shouldn’t the blog be about getting attention? Do any of us volunteer to write to an audience of zero? Well, let he who is without sin throw the first stone... here’s the first missile, Fun.
Oh, sorry, I’d better take that off you because you don’t qualify. You
- Relentlessly pimp your blog round your friends (I hope you pay Mav for the pimping)
- Fuck with people’s minds (oh, wait, everyone knew you were making it up when you pretended you and Sweetbabydee were getting married; and you even tried to get Mav to corroborate it on his blog VEGAS WEDDING FOR 2 BLOGGERS. HELP NEEDED )
- Tell everybody if they want to attack your blog friends (which at that time included The Cliticals) to come and do so on your blog (have you taken that post down? Funnily enough I can’t find it).
But don’t forget to be self-deprecating, and assure us you are above all of that. How could we hold such suspicious thoughts in our minds? You being so funny and lovely, and all.
I don’t want anyone to think I’m attacking Fun, though I’m sure he’ll tell everyone I am doing so. I love his blog, too, but I’m not one of those uncritical, adoring women who throw themselves at his feet just because he’s funny. I don’t want to be trampled on as he relentlessly pursues top spot on the List (of course you're not, babe. How could I think such a thing?).
I’m just questioning whether this current post is just another one to engender controversy and – surprise – draw more traffic to his blog.
What a shame he has flamed two women he has in the past called his friends as a way of doing so.
PS And read [post 469228], especially the e-mail from one Funintheday2006 to The Cliticals.
Sorry, I can't offer you the secret here, because I'm sure what works for one is not what works for another. But I'm hoping we're going to pool some knowledge here, and all learn something.
Firstly, apart from the posting I made the other day (Now THIS is what I call erotic...), which links to a really hot description of foreplay, I need to pimp NakedLnch yet again. His article My First Lesbian Encounter (Part 2) is pretty definitive on this subject, in my view (by the way, that's part 2 of a 2 parter, but it's where the sex starts). Damn, he's good!
And here's a very detailed article about eating pussy and driving women wild, written by a woman: Here are some directions. I found it a bit hard to read, because I'm not good with text-speak and big paragraphs, but the content is excellent. Tease us, boys.
Oh, and Moonlightphoenix is very detailed on this subject as well. Her post Fucking Myself is a must read.
Anyway that's a good starting point. Read and learn, guys (and interested gals). And even if you don't learn anything, you'll get nicely heated, I promise you.
For my own personal preference, I like:
Eye contact
Nothing like it to get the juices flowing, knowing that he's watching me whilst pleasuring me down below. Very hot.
Tongues
When you are down there, please remember: you are not performing mouth to mouth rescusitation, so don't clamp your jaws round it and suck like a fish out of water. In fact, the old "I can breathe through my ears" joke should have been retired approximately 46,000 years ago. Don't use it, it's corny! And not at all sexy.
No, let me suggest you keep well back (easier for the eye contact as well), open your mouth and let your tongue out to do all the work. Move it around, different textures (fat tongue and pointy tongue feel very different), different movements, differing pressures etc.
And combine it with a bit of sucking every now and then - but do it sparingly. We don't want to feel you're sucking oranges down there.
I read somewhere that what you can do is write with your tongue around her nethers: A, B, C, etc. Or you can even write little messages and see if she can decipher the letters. Unless of course she's already having an orgasm, in which case it isn't fair to expect her to concentrate.
Breathing
And blow little breaths as an alternative to using your tongue sometimes. It's all about sensitising, and a little hot (or cold) blow makes a marvellous change of scene.
Location, Location, Location
Don't home straight in on the clitoris or pussy. Take plenty of time checking out the general location: along the join of the legs and torso is an extremely sensitive (and often ignored) erogenous zone; down the thighs (any comments about cellulite, and you'll be out of there before you know what's hit you ... which will be her, by the way); that sensitive strip behind the pussy and before the arse; working gradually south from the belly button etc etc.
When you buy a house, you don't look at just the house itself. You explore the neighbourhood first. It's exactly the same principle here. Explore thoroughly and slowly. She'll try to rush you back to her clit, but resist her - it's for her own good, and she'll thank you for it ... hopefully more than once!
Later Addition:
I love the ideas from NakedLnch and IrishKev about sticking around and "making" her have a second orgasm, even when she tells you she's too sensitive, and wants you to stop. Ignore us when we say stupid things like that!!!!!! We'll thank you for it later.
Anyway, those are my thoughts to start you off. They have certainly started me off, judging by the state of my panties! Damn, where's a sex partner when you need one?
Tell me about how you like to go down, or be gone down on. Make it educational or make it horny; both work for me....
OK, I'll admit it, I nicked it from someone's blog - they are going to be leaving Adult FriendFinder soon, and it seemed a shame for such a fabulous picture to disappear into the ether.
And I was getting a bit bored of the old shadow thing. Kept bumping into too many other shadows and thinking they were posts written by me when I was drunk and incoherent. Until I realised the names were different.
But I'll be interested to see what difference the new pic makes. Supposedly increases the volume of mail you get. Not that I actually want this, but it will be an interesting exercise: after all, it's not as if the pic is actually of me, nor does it show anything other than a pair of shadowy hands cupping the setting sun. But it's the effect that this has on people's minds/interpretations of me that interests me.
We shall see.
By the way, got the car fixed today, but still waiting for a mirror to fit on the left hand side. The poor mechanic reversed out of the garage absolutely blind because - of course - being French, that's the mirror they rely on. What with the steering wheel on the wrong side of the car and no mirror on the correct side of the car, he fumbled significantly.
I told him I'd come to pick the mirror up on Monday and he was horrified "You can't drive without a mirror on that side!". I laughed and pointed out that at the weekend I drove up to Parc Asterix north of Paris and successfully negotiated the Peripherique Nord without a mirror on that side, so I was sure I would cope for the weekend. I mean, you hardly ever meet another vehicle in this part of the world - we have a road running through our garden, and it doesn't stop the kids playing there.
For those who don't know, the PN is like a cross between the M25 and the North Circular (this reference means more to Londoners than to anyone else), filled with mad Parisian drivers. My friend who drove behind me all the way was absolutely crapping herself at driving it. Certainly not for the faint-hearted, and I avoided overtaking wherever possible, given that I could not be sure I wouldn't have a mad bastard screaming up on the side without a mirror.
I've just read Anal (a article on) and think it is well worth spreading this information a bit further, for those who are interested in arses. Not the kind of sex education you get at school (I hope!), but very useful nonetheless.
I’m about to pull into my space on the driveway, when I realise another vehicle is already parked there. A red Porsche. Hmmm.
I park at the side of the road and tap my fingers on the steering wheel while I ponder this unexpected visitor. I start to feel a knot in my stomach, wondering if its presence is anything to do with the fact that my wife is not expecting me home for another couple of days. I shake myself for being silly, being disloyal – it’s not as if I have any cause to be.
Nonetheless, I walk up to the house and let myself in quietly. As I close the door gently behind myself, I listen out for voices.
No- one in the living room or in the kitchen. And it’s hardly the day to be out in the garden, given that it is midwinter.
I see a bottle and two empty wineglasses on the kitchen worktop. My stomach knots itself even tighter.
Then, I hear my wife’s voice upstairs. Well, I assume it’s her voice, but it’s difficult to tell, given that it’s more of a moan than a recognised form of speech.
Shit. Shit. Shit. What am I going to do now? I put down my briefcase, take off my coat and shoes, go through all the “Hi Honey, I’m home” motions, without actually calling out my greeting. I start to climb the stairs, sick at the thought of what I’m going to have to face at the top.
Our bedroom door is ajar, but it opens towards the wall side, so I don’t have a clear view into the room. She moans again and I hear her gasping out “Oh yes, that’s so good .... oh God, yes, lick me there again”.
Momentarily, my heart stops beating, and I hate the fact that my immediate reaction is one of arousal. For God’s sake, my wife is fucking some other man in our bedroom! He’s going down on her, his tongue touching her in places no- one other than me is ever supposed to go, and I’m getting a hard on?
I pause to try and gather my thoughts. Think, dammit. Who do we know that has a red Porsche? Convertible as well, the flash bastard. My mind flits around all our acquaintances, but I can’t come up with a match. And it’s difficult to concentrate, while all the while I hear her panting and sighing with pleasure. Without even thinking, I unzip my trousers.
I stare hard at the door while I try to think, and suddenly I realise something. I can’t see directly into the bedroom, but what I can do is see into our mirrored wardrobes, and from there....
Pushing the door ever so gently, so more of the bedroom is revealed in the reflection, my jaw drops at the sight I can see.
Whoever it is that drives the red Porsche is a woman. And at this precise moment in time, she has her face buried between my wife’s thighs. Fiona is lying back on the bed with her legs wide, positively squirming at the tongue which is dancing on her pussy lips, arms thrown back above her head.
I stare, entranced. God, I wish she would be that abandoned when I go down on her. I can almost taste her juices on my lips as I watch.
A small moan escapes my own lips and I press my hand against my cock. I can’t help myself, I’m going to have to fuck myself at this. I don’t care who this woman is, I just want to enjoy the magic she is weaving around my partner, who has never looked sexier than at this moment. Or maybe it’s just because I’m not used to seeing her flush of arousal from a distance.
I’m so hard and I get even harder when I grip the shaft of my cock firmly and start to move my hand up and down. I spread the pre-cum with my thumb so it coats the head. Faster and faster I wank, feeling it build up inside me. I groan at the imminent release, and the mystery woman raises her head, looking at the mirror.
She looks straight into my eyes, and I realise too late that if I can see her, she can see me. She smiles, snakes her tongue out and moves her head back down. She wants me to watch her lick my wife to orgasm.
There is nothing I want more in the world, either. I study Fiona’s breasts, her hard and dark nipples, so aroused. The other woman – as if reading my mind – reaches up and circles her nipples with her tongue, then again catches my eye in the mirror before bending down to catch them between her teeth and gently tweak them. Everything for me to see.
Fiona moans. “I’m going to come .... oh! .... fuck, that’s so good ... please, I want your tongue inside me again”. The woman smiles and whispers something to her. My wife looks directly at me in the mirror and then turns back to French kiss her partner.
I push the door further open and stumble in. “Please”, I beg, “don’t stop”.
But they do, for just a moment, and then Fiona whispers something which makes the other woman turn around so that each can lick the other to oblivion. My wife turns her head to watch me as she extends her tongue up to her lover’s pussy to reach her clit. All the time she licks and sucks, she maintains eye contact with me, while I watch the two of them hit a frenzy of orgasmic bliss at the same time.
And I stand there, furiously rubbing myself as I watch the two of them make love to each other in front of me, finally exploding over the carpet.
Fuck, that’s some homecoming welcome, baby, I laugh. And, finally, I get introduced to the lady who drives the red Porsche.
Aug 5, 2006 9:39 am Mood: contemplative, 658 Views
Actually, I'm supposed to be vacuuming glass out of my car, after a small accident this morning. My car brushed wing mirrors with another one, and my wing mirror bashed in the quarterlight window with the force of an explosion, shooting slivers of glass all over me and my two children. I wouldn't mind, but both cars slowed down dramatically to pass each other, as we both knew how narrow the road is. I couldn't believe the force against the window, and the other woman was practically crying as we compared notes.
Anyway, I digress - I'm just explaining how I should be doing something else, but instead I'm "calming my mind" by blogging on Adult FriendFinder. It's a form of therapy, but free of charge (OK, not exactly free, as I'm a silver member, but much cheaper than a psychiatrist).
So, onto the topic I was intending to post about:
I am 41 years old and have slept with 7 men in that time, one of them for 16 of the last 23 years. I tell you that now, because I want you to understand that I am a one-person woman. I realise it may not be obvious from my blogging!
I also realise that it is way off from the "average", if there is such a thing. When I mentioned this topic to the man I was sleeping with at the time (he was number 5, so the number was even lower then), he was astonished, and estimated that he had slept with "at least 10 times" that many women in his 45 years.
Knowing him as I do, I suspect that was a severe underestimation, to make me feel better (not that I needed to). I'm betting he's not far off triple digits really. He understands only two types of relationship: full on commitment (which he's done twice) and one night stands. Ongoing caring but commitment-free sex was outside his experience, and the relationship eventually fell apart as a result.
Now, I know that he too is way off from the "average", but these days I'd reckon many people might well have slept with about 20 people by the time they hit 40. And no- one thinks any more of it.
Times (in western countries, at least) are now sexually liberated: you don't have to find a man, marry him and live happily ever after (or get divorced to find another one and have another try) any more. You can treat sex as a fun hobby, a way to get to know people a bit better, even as a competitive sport if you like. And you can play for both teams, or for whichever side you prefer, if you like.
But I am not like that. For me, though I know sex with one person is not necessarily "for ever", I cannot take the view that it is just a one night stand. It means something to me. I have to have an emotional connection. Not something religious, but something "human".
talks in his blog about the difference in intensity between an orgasm brought on by sex with another person and one brought on by masturbation, and I feel like this about the difference between meaningful sex and meaningless sex.
For this reason, though the characters in my stories have very open relationships, incorporating other partners of both sexes, and maybe more than one at a time, and I share this fantasy, I have no wish to live it out for real.
This is why my profile says it is important for me not to live out my fantasies. Fantasies have far greater power to affect you while they remain like that. If it were offered to me on a plate, I would run a mile.
I am reminded (because I's an eddicated gal) of the story of King Midas: everything he touched turned to gold. Sounds great, doesn't it?
And yet, and yet.... Try having a drink or eating a grape, or touching the person you love, only to have them turn to gold before your very eyes.
Yeah - suddenly it doesn't have quite the same appeal, does it?
Trust me, I'm meandering round to a point here. Stay with me a bit longer. I realise the path is a little tortuous today. Put it down to post traumatic stress syndrome or something, from my broken window!
When my then-boyfriend asked me to marry him, I burst into tears. I explained to him that I was frightened that I would not be able to be faithful to him. Prior to him I had had boyfriend #1, to whom I was unfathful (with the guy who became boyfriend #2, and at the same time ex-best friend of boyfriend #1). And I had been unfaithful to boyfriend #2 with both boyfriend #1 and with my male flatmate.
So my track record on fidelity was not great.
My husband-to-be was fantastic. He just said "well, let's deal with that if it happens, shall we?", and so we got engaged and married.
We were married for 15 years, and I was never unfaithful to him. Yes, I was tempted a few times, and I had to remove myself from various environments to remove myself from the temptations they offered. Because my marriage was important to me. I did not want to slide into infidelity, and I was so glad I never did.
Last year, he died, and everything changed. I had a chance to reassess my personality, because I had deliberately suppressed various aspects of it to make our marriage work. It was not him who asked me to change anything, and I do not regret anything significant about the last 16 years, but after he died I became free to become the woman I more naturally am.
The woman I would have become if he had not rescued me from myself 16 years ago - if I'd become her then, I'd probably be dead of syphilis or an overdose by now! But now I am (theoretically, at least) older and wiser, and better able to control myself.
I now know that although I am naturally extremely horny and adventurous, it does not change my essentially monogamous nature.
And this is where I find Adult FriendFinder suits me down to the ground. I can be promiscuous without actually having sex in a physical sense, if you know what I mean.
Let me explain:
I am sleeping with one man. It is an NSA relationship, and we are together only because of the sex. Both of us have ties elsewhere, and there are no plans to change the nature of our relationship. And yet, there is the emotional connection I need. He is someone with whom I can be intimate, not just physical, I believe, without fear of misinterpretation.
At the same time, I am having what looks like becoming a pretty intense relationship by e-mail with someone else. He allows me to express the most wanton and perverted side of my personality in a non-judgemental environment, without any risk of a physical relationship. I couldn't be like this with him if we met in person, and I suspect he could not with me, so it is lucky we live in different continents. I feel safe with him, and - again - there is an emotional connection.
In addition, there are various people with whom I exchange flirty and sometimes deep and meaningful e-mails and to whom I can chat on the chat forum if I feel like it.
All of these people are on Adult FriendFinder. All accept that the others exist and none of them tells me I must practise exclusivity with them. I share different things with all of them, and can be emotionally open with all of them.
For me, this is the ideal of a truly open relationship.
Guys - you know who you are, and I'd like to thank you {=}
) ...
