Wanting to ease into writing Rick that letter I've been urged to write, I decided to start off slow by emailing him one of my Hump Day submissions.
Hesalways asking to read my stories, so it seemed natural to send him an erotic one to sort of warm him up to the idea of an erotic exchange of sorts.
"I emailed you a story," I mentioned in passing.
"Oh yeah? What kind of story? Is it like what you post in your blog?"
I froze when he asked about the blog. "Its just a story," I calmly recovered. "I want you to read it and then email me back. Tell me what you think of it."
Once he was on the computer, I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, how he would react. The suspense was killing me! Finally he came to bed at about 10, just in time for Iron Chef! lol When he said nothing of my story, I decided to fish for the information.
"Did Dan email you back," I asked. Surely this would prompt him to tell me what he thought of the email.
"Oh. So what did you end up doing on the computer for so long?"
"I was playing a game."
"Oh yeah?" This wasn't working. Instead, I nuzzled up close to him and kissed his neck. I would just have to wait until morning and check my email to see what he thought.
At the commercial break, he got up to get a drink of water. Upon coming back to bed, he crawled in under the covers at the foot of the bed, raising my night shirt and planting his cold tongue on my freshly shaved slit. I moaned in pleasure, thinking he must have enjoyed my story.
As soon as the show came back on though, he stopped. He lay his head on my chest, his sternum tight against my pelvis. I writhed beneath him, rubbing myself on the hardness of his breast bone. No response from him. Until the next commercial break.
He quickly dove back down, teasing my clit and finger fucking my hole. I felt lost in the moment, anticipating his next move. And then the show came back on, and he resumed his postition, chest tight against my wet mound, a chastity belt of flesh preventing me from further arousal until he permitted.
This continued through three more agonizingly short commercial breaks until the show was finally over.
"Are you glad its time for another commercial?" he asked me.
"Yes," I answered, my fingers finding the remote and turning the television off.
"Why is that?"
"Because you're good to me during the commercials," I purred back, as I reached down, feeling his hardness through his shorts.
His hand cups my lips, finger gliding deep within me.
"Do you like that?" he asked.
"Mmm...yes," I answer back.
"Oh yeah? Does that feel good?" he asks, twisting his finger around inside of me. He would be so perfect for dominating me. Imagining this sends a surge through my body.
He positions himself between my legs, exploring me with his tongue. I reach my hand down and part my lips for him, opening myself for him to see, exposing fresh skin to be kissed. He leans his head back to look at me, to see the folds I've displayed before him. I rub my fingers along my lips, his eyes watching as I rub my clit and finger fuck myself, just inches from his face. He can't help but join me in some way, so his tongue flicks my finger as it passes by him. I let him suck my honey off of my fingers and then use his spit to harvest some more.
He gets up on his knees, grabbing my wrists and pinning them to the pillow my head is resting on. I can barely stand the excitement of waiting to see what he does next.
Biting the bottom of my night shirt, he pulls it up and over my breasts before he bagins sucking and biting at my nipples. I hear moaning, and don't realize that its me, expressing my pleasure.
In a sudden, harsh thrust, his entire length is plunged deep within my walls. A short scream escapes my throat.
"Oh yeah! Your dick feels so good!"
He fucks me with intense, short movements, my breasts moving in circles as he pounds away.
His mouth melts with mine as his dick explodes in sharp spasms, filling me with his warmth. I squeeze my pussy muscles tightly around him, his body shaking at the sensation.
I was still anxious to see what he emailed me about my story, but it would have to wait til morning. Heres what he wrote me:
You are such a great writer why do you waste your talents on such depraved and vulgar stories :)Just kidding you have an excellent way with words and the story really pulled me in. Its amazing how in such a short story you made me have a vested interest in the characters and in what they were feeling and why. I am always amazed at all of your creative talents whether its your writing or your artwork. I would love to read more of your stories so keep sending em'.
I think thats a good sign, don't you? :)
Rick and I had planned on starting to try for another baby in October, with the hopes that once the baby was born, hopefully our son will be potty trained. With October only about a month away, and taking into consideration how long it took us to conceive last time, we agreed that we may as well get a head start. More on that later! :)
If and when I do get pregnant, I won't be turning this into a baby blog. Actually, I have plans to start a second blog exclusively for the pregnancy and baby news once we're successful in conception.
My last pregnancy went extremely smoothly, without much nausea and not a single stretch mark to show for it. Thats impressive considering that at nine months pregnant my waist had nearly doubled in size at 44 inches!
The extra hormones tend to make me hornier than usual,(is that possible?!) so posting won't be compromised. :)
With many of my friends being pregnant, or having new babies, I've definetly caught the Baby Fever. lol Doesn't help that my baby is growing like a weed!
So theres an update for you. A heads up of sorts. Wish us luck!
Last night, after the baby went to bed, Rick asked me to pop his back for him. I followed him into the bedroom where he lay down on the bed, presenting his back to me. After a few attempts with no luck, I offered him a massage instead. He agreed, and so I told him to take off his shirt.
Once the shirt was off, I told him to take his pants off as well, so I could better reach his lower back. He unbuttoned, and I pulled them off for him, folding them neatly in a pile next to the bed. Grabbing some lotion, I stradled his legs as I began kneading his flesh with my hands. He let out a few approving moans and groans as I rubbed his sore muscles.
After awhile, I asked if he would like an ice pack for his back, something the doctor recommended to ease the pain between visits. He did, and so I packed a plastic freezer bag with ice and then wrapped it in a soft towel before placing it on his back for him.
He decided he wanted to change positions to lay on his back instead. I held the ice pack in place for him as he rolled over, wearing only his underwear and socks. I decided the socks had to go, so I pulled them off and then rubbed them with the same lotion I used on his back.
"You don't have to do that," he said.
"I want to," I smiled back to him.
"I'm hot. Why don't you turn the fan on?" he asked.
"Sure," I got up and flipped the switch to the fan. When I walked back to him, I grabbed the sides of his underwear and pulled them off, adding them to the rest of his clothes.
"What are you doing?" a quizzical look on his face.
I look down at his cock, growing before my eyes.
"Well, I thought I was cooling you off, but it looks like I may be warming you up instead," I reply as I get down on my knees on the floor beside the bed. The touch of my fingers on his silky shaft, makes him quickly stiffen in my hand. A light squeeze before I kiss him, tasting the tiny drop of precum thats collected at the tip. My mouth waters at the thought of sucking on his dick, feeling the pulsating against my tongue. The extra wetness of my mouth slicks him quickly, letting my hand glide effortlessly up and down his member in unison with my lips.
With my free hand, I cup his balls, gently fondling them in my palm. He bends his knee up and opens his legs wide. I wonder if its just for easier access to his scrotum, or if it may be an invitation to play around with his ass. My nails are too long, so I decide not to experiment down there today.
I feel his muscles tighten and know hes about to come. As his body begins to spasm, I slurp the come directly out of him, coaxing it into my mouth, not stopping until I know theres nothing left. I kiss the head and smile at him.
"My back feels a little better," he says.
"Good," I reply.
"Maybe you should suck my dick more often." he smiles.
"I can do that."
20 Questions to a Better Relationship
Found this link
over at Phin's site
. Heres how I did:
eXpressive: 5/10Practical: 7/10Physical: 6/10Giver: 6/10
You are a RPYG--Reserved Practical Physical Giver. This makes you a 1950s Parent.You are relentlessly patient, loving, generous and devoted. You are unflappable. If on some rare occasion you do raise your voice or say a swear word in anger, anyone around to hear it will remember it (and think it was funny). At the same time, you're very cute and charming, and even if you don't catch someone's eye at the beginning of the night you'll surely have their attention by the end. Your calm, conservative nature conceals a passionate (and sexy!) heart. You can have trouble bringing up problems, but your approach to conflict is calm and even-handed. The problem can be is that you are so busy worrying about your partner's satisfaction that you don't ensure your own. This can build up over time and make you restless. Despite your sexual nature, you are more likely to cheat emotionally than physically. You tend to work out your frustrations in the bedroom. Depending on your partner, this can be an excellent strategy. You would be a great candidate to balance out an XSYT, but not a good match for an unappreciative RPYT. You have an odd, ritualized vice that doesn't suit the rest of your persona -- like smoking a certain brand of cigarettes or drinking a certain kind of wine. Of the 27709 people who have taken this quiz, 4.7 % are this type.
A farmer has about 200 hens, but no rooster and he wants chicks. So, he goes down the road to the next farmer and asks if he has a rooster.The other farmer says, "Yeah, I've got this great rooster, named Randy; "he'll service every chicken you've got. No problem."Well, Randy the rooster is a lot of money, but the farmer decides he'd be worth it. So , he buys Randy. The farmer takes Randy home and setshim down in the barnyard, giving the rooster a pep talk, " Randy, I want you to pace yourself now. You've got a lot of chickens to servicehere and you cost me a lot of money and I'll need you to do a good job. So, take your time and have some fun," the farmer said with a chuckle.Randy seemed to understand, so the farmer points towards the hen house and Randy took off like a shot ~WHAM~ He nails every hen on there THREEor FOUR times and the farmer is just shocked. Randy runs out of the hen house and sees a flock of geese down by the lake ~WHAM~ He gets all the geese. Randy's up in the pigpen. He's in with the cows. Randy is jumping on every animal the farmer owns.The farmer is distraught, worried that his expensive rooster won't even last the day. Sure enough, the farmer goes to bed and wakes up the next day to find Randy dead as a doorknob in the middle of the yard.Buzzards are circling overhead.The farmer, saddened by the loss of such a colorful animal, shakes his head and says, "Oh, Randy, I told you to pace yourself. I tried to getyou to slow down, now look what you've done to yourself." Randy opens one eye, and looks towards the buzzards flying overhead and say's,"Shhh. They're getting closer....
After a few years of married life, this guy finds that he is unable to perform anymore. He goes to his doctor, and his doctor tries a few things - but nothing works. Finally the doctor says to him "this is all in your mind", and refers him to a psychiatrist.After a few visits to the shrink, the shrink confesses, "I am at a loss as to how you could possible be cured." Finally, the psychiatrist refers him to a witch doctor.The witch doctor tells him, "I can cure this", and throws some powder on a flame. There is a flash with billowing blue smoke…… The witch doctor says "This is powerful healing but you can only use it once a year! All you have to do is say '123' and it shall rise for as long as you wish!" The guy then asks the witchdoctor "What happens when it's over?" The witch doctor says "all you have to do is say '1234' and it will go down. But be warned, it will not work again for another year!"The guy goes home, and that night he is ready to surprise his wife with the good news…… So, he is lying in bed with her and says "123" and suddenly he gets an erection. His wife turns over and says, "What did you say '123 for?"
Caught in the act...sort of
Rick was off to take a shower and I cleaned up the kitchen before checking my email and making a phone call. I finished the call, and headed down the hall to the bedroom. Upon entering the room, I could tell I walked in on something.
Rick was awkwardly draped in our comforter, and the television was blank with the 'AV' symbol in the corner of the screen, signalling that he had been watching a dvd.
"What are you watching?" I asked, crawling into bed next to him.
He flipped the 'AV' button and the baseball game came on. "Well, I was going to watch some of 'Cabin Fever', but now the games back on."
Peculiar. I wondered what was really in the dvd player. I rested my head on his chest and heard his heart pounding, as if he were nervous. I had definitely walked in on something.
Once the inning was finished, I asked him if he could watch the game in the living room so I could make the bed. I had been wondering the whole time if his shorts were undone, and if they were, how he would manage to arrange them so as not to clue me in to what he had been doing. Would he ask me to go get something for him, so he could quickly zip up? Would he try to fix his pants beneath the covers? Was I way off base? Maybe he hadn't been up to anything at all.
As he sat up, he crawled out of bed, off the foot of the bed and crawled into the bathroom, acting as though he were chasing the cat. I giggled, as I noticed the slack in the waist of his pants, due to them being completely unzipped and unbuttoned.
I was right. Whats that they say about a woman's intuition?
What I really wanted to do, was to take the opportunity to have a talk with him, as so many of you have suggested. But I was afraid of embarrassing him. I didn't want him to feel awkward or ashamed.
After leaving the bathroom, and heading to the living room to continue watching the game, my curiosity got the best of me as I headed over to the dvd player. Surely he had been watching some other movie. I opened the tray and guess what popped out. Cabin Fever. Are you kidding me? lol Two minor little sex scenes in that movie, that I obviously highly underrated. Interesting.
The thought of walking in on him, of knowing what he was doing, recalling the images that he must have been watching excited me. It didn't take long for me to make myself come, laying on the bed where he had sat only moments ago, still warm from his body heat. The orgasm made me lazy with sleep. I could have easily drifted off, muscles numb with remnants of pleasure.
I only wish that I could have brought him his sexual gratification. I wonder how he might react if I were to tell him how I feel. That I want him to come to me whenever he feels like it, to use me as he sees fit. I envy The Girl
. Her description of wanting to be dominated is me to a tee. I'm so tempted to write a letter to Rick, like she has done to her husband. If I weren't so nervous of what his reaction may be, I'm sure I would. I tend to think he would be accomadating, since he does, on occasion, spank me and 'scold' me in bed. Maybe if I put in writing how wild that drives me, it would open a whole new world of opportunites.
Hmmmmm.......I've got some thinking to do. Help me out guys. Tell me what your reaction would be if your wife/girlfriend wrote you a letter asking to be dominated. I'm not talking dog collars and ball gags here. Just plain 'ol dominance, offering you her body to do with as you please, knowing of course that she is equally excited at the thought.
"You smell like...."
Hair still damp from my shower, I gathered a few things together in an overnight bag and waited for Rick to pick me up. I had been out of town for nearly a week and hadn't seen him since the day I left. He had rented a swanky hotel suite downtown and would soon be stopping by the house to sweep me off.
I couldn't wait to see him, I'd missed him terribly in my time away. I longed to feel his touch, to kiss him, just to share his company. Bag packed, I waited near the front window, looking for his car while tiny butterflies fluttered about my tummy. Finally, he pulled into the drive. I decided to wait for him to come to the door, although my body told me to run out to the car and meet him. We'd been dating for nearly a year, but I still felt it was important not to seem too overly eager.
Three taps on the door. I take a deep breath and count to ten before answering it. Upon seeing his familiar face, I erupt into giggles and wrap my arms around his neck. My cool act was defeated.
His arms squeeze me tightly as my lips find his. We kiss. Soft and sweet.
"I missed you," he says.
"I missed you too!" I reply.
I can see a hunger in his eyes as his hand reaches up and holds my jaw in place as he devours my mouth with his own. I let out a tiny sigh, as my thigh brushes up against his crotch, feeling his hardness pulsing against my leg. Knowing that he is so turned on makes me that much wetter.
Suddenly he stops.
"C'mon. Lets get going," he says as he grabs my bag for me.
In the car, I place my foot up on the dash to adjust my ankle bracelet.
"You smell like pussy."
I turn to him, a concerned look on my face. "What did you say?"
He smiles and places his hand on my thigh. "I can smell your pussy. You must be really wet." His fingers slide under my skirt and beneath the thin material of my panties. Seeing the puzzled look on my face, he adds, "It smells good. I like it. Most men enjoy the smell of a good clean pussy."
I took deep breaths, trying to catch the scent he spoke of with my own nose. All I could smell was perfume and remnants of the soap I used in the shower. Was I immune to my own scent? Was he telling the truth? Did he like the smell of my pussy? The car ride down town was filled my wondering these very things.
All cramped up
I once read somewhere that an orgasm can relieve menstrual cramping. Interesting theory, but after a self indulgent afternoon spent testing this theory, I can tell you its a bunch of hooey. It made the time slip by faster though...
I really liked the responses from the Book of Questions post. Most peoples idea of torture included losing a lover/ significant other in some way. That would be excruciating. A few mentioned losses of their own, girlfriend or grandfather. What an awful pain. My heart goes out to you. I think my response would have to agree with the daddies. Anything happening to my children would most assuredly be the death of me. I would hurt forever if I lost Rick, but my heart would die if I were to lose my child. Its the most amazing all consuming love, when you have children, that people can not possibly imagine until they have children of their own.
Anyway, I'd like to continue with that post, and add a new question each week. I hope you guys continue to share your answers with me. :)
I would like to clear something up real quick while we're all gathered here. lol Are you familiar with the Good Husband's blog? I link to him in my sidebar, if you're interested. I get an obscene number of emails asking me if I'm 'Wife' and if hes 'Rick'. And when he and his wife are having problems, I tend to get emails from people telling me what a bitch I've been and how I should make it up to him. I will tell you now, that I have no intention of 'sucking it up' and 'iron his goddamned shirts for the sake of our marriage'. I'm not 'a retched excuse for a mom' because I don't make the kids lunches. I'm not even married to the man! Come on! Surely there are other bloggers out there with similar nick names that don't go through this! We are in different states, with different spouses and different children. And just for the record, I do iron Rick's shirts! lol Now please, stop asking me if we are together. Or go ask him for a change. ;)
Denise and I spoke about pregnancy last night. Every time she spoke about ovulation or periods or anything remotely related, she whispered. I'm sorry for those of you who feel sorry for her, but that was funny. She reminds me of a woman growing up in the 50's, where you just didn't talk about such things, and in a way or perhaps because of that, the women were more refined and less educated on sexual matters. Before you get angry with me, I did tell her that she didn't have to whisper, and she knows I thought it was funny. The whole conversation was amusing, in that she was essentially giving me
sex tips. Of course, it wasn't for fun, but rather, she was telling me her secrets to quick conception, including taking a form of liquid Robitussin three times a day to aid the process. I can't take liquid medication, so I'm guessing that trick is out for me.
We watched Cabin Fever last night. ICK! I still feel nauseas. Seems like it was just trying to push the gross out factor, and then at the end it was trying to be funny? I did not enjoy it.
On the local access channel out here on Friday nights, we have what I like to call 'Jefferson County Porn'. hee hee Its never on when Rick is home, only when I'm home alone flipping channels late at night, so he doesn't believe me when I tell him about it. I probably wouldn't believe it either until I saw it myself.
What it is, is some guy filming his girlfriend or wife as she dresses up in costumes and does a stripper dance to some 80's music in the festively decorated basement. Shes very serious about it, like she thinks shes a really good actress. She spreads her legs and gropes herself, all the while making scrunched up faces to the camera. There are more wigs than you can count. lol
One time, she was sitting at a table set for two, and she was talking to the camera like she was talking to you. It was kind of a cool concept, if only it weren't Jefferson County Friday Night Porn! lol She proceeded to molest a bannana with her mouth and get messy with some whipped cream. Basically it looked like a home video that got into the wrong hands.
I could do so much better! ;) Maybe I could make some videos to coincide with the Good Wife love dolls! lol
More Sex Tips From Guys~Courtesy of Cosmo
Try sticking my penis through the hole of a glazed doughnut. Then nibble around it, stopping to suck me once in a while. The sugar beads from your mouth will tingle on my tip.
With one hand on each side of my penis, pretend you're spinning a stick of wood to make a fire -- but a little more gently than you learned in Girl Scouts, please.
Let me know you're in the mood by picking up my palm and darting your tongue against it. It's an unusual move, but it's so erotic at the same time.
When you grab my arms, hold 'em over my head and lick around my armpits. I'm putty.
I love it when you gently tug on my nipples. It sends chills up my spine.
If you're riding me, rub your lower abs and feel me inside you.
On your birthday, smear cake all over your body and invite me to help myself.
Interesting. I'll never see doughnuts the same way again.
From The Book of Questions
What is the worst psychological torture you can imagine suffering?
Anything causing even minor physical injury should not be considered.
What a doll!
I'm a Nip/Tuck fan. Last night, there was a lot of time spent with a real doll
. Wow. Creepy! lol He sure did show her who was boss though....
The invention of these dolls seems rather sad. Why would you ever need them, unless you were alone, without a real life partner? So they made them as much like a real person as possible to mimic a 'normal' interaction? Is that possible? I suppose a couple could use one as a third party. But isn't the reaction of the person a large part of the experience? Maybe if they could make them speak. And move. Give them artificial intelligence. Eek! Now THAT would be a good horror movie! Attack of the Love Dolls!
I woke up in the middle of the night to Rick rubbing his dick against me as we spooned. I was so tired, I thought it was a dream and started to go back to sleep. He inserted himself and slowly rocked in and out. It wasn't until he was finished that I realized I was awake. What a boring romp for him! lol And yet, perhaps he was inspired by the love dolls and I reacted exactly as he had hoped! It sounds good, anyway.
I had just gotten out of the shower and was wearing a towel wrapped around my body when I walked into the kitchen, looking for my hairbrush. It was unusually dark for the time of day, early evening, and from the corner of my eye I could see large storm clouds rolling past through the kitchen window just over the sink. As though I were hypnotized, I found myself abandoning the search and leaning over the sink to watch the storm come in.
The windows were open, having been a cooler than normal day. The cool breeze against my skin, still hot from my steamy shower, was refreshing. I closed my eyes and breathed in the sweet air, smelling of the rain to come mixed with fresh cut grass and some sort of late blooming flowers.
I hear Rick come into the kitchen, but can't seem to take my attention from the window.
"What are you doing?," he asks.
"Watching the storm come in. Can't you just smell the rain?" Again, I deeply inhale the aromas, leaving a smile on my face. I feel his presence next to me, as he joins me at the sink.
"Were you looking for this?" I didn't have to look to know what he meant, as he began to comb my hair with the brush I had come through the kitchen searching for just minutes earlier. His strokes were very gentle, the simple act making me feel loved. I sighed as he tamed my mane, thunder booming just outside the window.
I can still feel his presence behind me, long after hes set the brush down, my eyes unable to leave the clouds even for the few seconds it would take to see him. Then I feel his hands on my hips. His touch sending warmth and excitement through out my body. Still I lay, leaning over the sink, staring at the storm clouds, unable to will myself to turn around.
His left hand stays resting on my hip, as his right hand finds its way underneath the towel. As his fingers find my lips, I can tell he has licked them in an effort to wet me-an unnecessary step he soon finds out.
In a swift movement, he yanks the towel off of me, exposing my skin to the cold metal of the sink and the slightly less coldness of the tiled counter. The wind outside is picking up, the breeze carressing my nipples awake, as a light rain begins to fall, almost like a mist. Still, the storm holds my vision, refusing to lessen its grip.
Suddenly, Rick is inside me. A small gasp escapes me as he holds on to the counter for support, thrusting himself in and out of me. My breasts sway in unison to his movements, his mouth kissing my neck. The storm is right above us now, the thunder exploding in angry booms and the sky suddenly opening up a torrent of rain drops, the wind carrying them through the window, landing on my skin.
The droplets on my nakedness are strangely erotic, large spheres of rain water landing with force onto my breasts before encircling my nipples and traveling further down my body. The crash of the thunder shakes the house, gently vibrating the counter on which I lay, the sensations echoing through my body, not before tickling my clit.
The storm continued to seduce me as Rick rammed himself into my depths, letting out small grunts as he thrust. I felt on the edge of orgasm, though the position I was in seemed to not let me quite reach climax. I knew Rick was close, and that it would all be over too soon. I wanted so desperatly to come. If only I could tear myself away from the window...
The desperation in his sounds, and the quickening of his thrusts signalled to me the nearing end. I tried to focus on orgasm, willing it to happen. Practically begging for it. I feared it wouldn't.
An amazing bolt of lightning seared through the clouds, momentarily simulating daylight with its stunning brightness. And then the crash of thunder.
I felt its boom instantly hit my clit with a sharp hardness as it continued to vibrate the house, the energy entering my body and all collecting in my pussy. I let out a small scream as I exploded into orgasm, pulsating around Rick until he pulled out and blasted me with his warmth. Still I came, my walls just as strongly contracting as when it started and continuing for what seemed an eternity of time. My eyes never leaving the storm.
Finally, Rick grabbed me and turned me around to kiss me, breaking the spell. The waves crashing to a stop as his hot sweaty body mashed up against the wet coolness of mine.
The impromptu summer storm had passed.
My Denise Rubuttal
Okay guys. Looks like I got some 'splaining to do, so gather 'round.
First of all, I love Denise dearly. She is one of my very closest friends. I don't think I deserve a medal for 'hanging out' with her. I love spending time with her. I made the medal comment about her puerile thoughts on all things sexual. Its not my place to teach her about sex. Shes not my lover, or my daughter. She knows everything she feels she needs to know and she is fine with that. Why should anybody feel sad about that? She is completely blissful in her sexual innocence, and that is more than good enough for me. If her husband thinks otherwise, then its his
job, not mine, to take her through that journey. Not everyone's life revolves around sex. In fact, I almost envy her insouciance on the matter. Almost.
Now, the bit on diseases. I know what she meant, and perhaps I should have earlier specified, as this has been the subject of many an email, stirring quite the debate. She was thinking along the lines of the hair protecting the vagina against infection, std's or otherwise, not unlike nose hairs catching foreign bodies and protecting against illness. If the hair is absent, there is nothing protecting the tender area from semen carrying potential diseases or even perhaps airborn bacteria. Not unreasonable, just unproven. Furthermore, regular shaving opens the possibility of nicks and cuts, which of course can also make the area susceptible to attack. She wasn't talking crazy or anything, in fact what she said made sense. Its just wrong, at least as far as I know. She may one day be proven right! lol But anyway, that will hopefully clear up that debate. I agree that a trimmed bikini area can be just as erotic as a shaved one. And the first time I was asked to shave, I admit I was shocked at the pre-pubescent appearance. The positives obviously outweighed the negatives for me, but thats purely my opinion.
I don't feel obligated to tell Denise that I shave myself, nor do I feel the need to tell her that I enjoy nipple jewelry, or reading Playboys, or watching porn. And I don't feel dishonest, or that I am 'doing a disservice' by keeping these things private. (well, relatively private:)
Have I hit every hot point? lol If not, ask away, you know I'll answer.
On a separate note, I want to send out a big wet kiss to burbman. Apology most graciously accepted, and I thank you. I know you weren't trying to be mean. Thank you for the compliments as well. You flatter me, love. :)
Edumacation from Denise
Ahhh, Denise. A lovely, dear, if not ridiculously innocent, friend of mine for over fifteen years. One would think that perhaps just a bit of me would have rubbed off on her by now, but alas, she amazes me with her sexual callowness regularly.
A conversation from this weekend:
Denise: Have you ever heard of Howard Stern? Hes some sort of radio host guy...
Me: I think I may have heard of him. Why do you ask? (trying not to laugh and terribly curious at whats to come next)
Denise: Well.......(loooong drawn out pause followed by a deep breath) Dave was flipping channels the other day, and hes got this tv show of his radio broadcast. Anyway, he was asking this girl if....*whispering* if she shaved completely.
Denise: Well he didn't mean her legs and pits.
Me: (trying not to laugh)
Denise: Dave said that he meant he was asking if she shaved *whispering* her entire bikini area, if you know what I mean.
Me: Thats kind of a personal question, huh?
Denise: Have you ever heard of such a thing?! Oh my God! I almost fainted when Dave told me that. I think he might have just made that up.
Me: Its pretty common, sweetie.
Denise: I can't believe people would do that! Why do you know about it? Thats perverted! Eww! I don't even want to think about it. Sounds like something pedophiles would do. Yuck. I couldn't believe it when he told me that.
Me: (deciding not to ever divulge to her that I've been bare for years) I guess some people just like to do that. I don't think its perverted. Just personal preference.
Denise: Thats how people get diseases!
Denise: You just shouldn't do that.
Me: Shaving has nothing to do with diseases.
Denise: Lets change the subject. I feel nauseas just thinking about it.
Me: (rolling eyes)
Fifteen years of this. I deserve a medal.
Analyze this. You know you want to.
Somebody wrote me an email suggesting that maybe Rick wants to "take charge more". That perhaps I "take charge" too often. That makes sense. I am definitely the outspoken one of the two. Rick is a very quiet, shy person. He doesn't want to do anything to upset anybody. Hes very softspoken, and not very confident.
I, on the other hand, am not shy. Would I have this blog if I were? :) I'm not loud and boisterous by any means. But I'm confident and not afraid to speak up for myself. This can tend to make me appear to be the dominant person in our relationship. Not the boss, don't get me wrong, but definitely the dominant personality.
Maybe this is why I like to be dominated in the bedroom? Not unsimilar to the high power execs that like to frequent a dominatrix. They like the typically quieter person to take over and control them. For them women, for me Rick. lol That sounds infinitely bitchy. Do you understand what I'm trying to say? I hope so.
Anyway, Rick knows that I get off on that sort of thing in bed. I like to be spanked and otherwise controlled. I love it when he forcefully tells me "Suck my dick", because he says it with the power and force that is lacking in his everyday mannerisms. He gets really into it, which of course makes it even more enjoyable.
As we turned the lights off and retired to bed last night, I jokingly said something snotty about being neglected. Well, perhaps half joking. lol I had been giving him trouble about it all evening, but again, in a light hearted way.
He finally had enough of it and I found myself suddenly tackled.
"I oughta tickle you until you cry," he said, holding me down tightly to the bed. I was laying on my belly, and felt him start to pull off of me. Then he suddenly dove between my legs, parting my lips and diving in with his tongue. I was shocked, but adjusted appropriately, giving him full access to my pussy from behind. The sensations were wonderful. When he was happy with the amount of wetness, he slowly slid his dick between my legs, teasing me with the head. I started to move, attempting to get him further inside of me. Upon seeing this, he spanked my ass. Hard. I stopped moving.
Plunging himself deep into my hole, he built up a quick rhythm, occasionally slapping my ass as he pounded me. I moaned and groaned.
"You like that?", he asked with force. I mumbled "Yes". Grabbing a hand full of my hair, he pulled my head up and asked me again. "I didn't hear you. Do you like that?" "mmm...yes". I reply. He continues to hold my hair, using it like reigns, as he spanks and fucks me. I feel him lean down closely to me, the heat of his breath dancing on my ear as he whispers, "You fucking bitch."
His thrusts grow stronger and its not long before I feel his hot release landing on my ass and dripping down to my pussy. As soon as he stops coming, he shoves his dick back into me, pounding me with such force, I wonder if I won't have bruises on my ass from his pelvis driving against me. He sticks a finger in my ass and matches his cock's rhythm. Almost immediately I begin to orgasm, squeezing and pulsating around him. This was enough to coax him to climax again, coating my ass before a final spanking.
As he collapses on the bed, he pulls me close to him, holding me tightly.
"I love you, baby," he says between breaths.
"I love you too."
We ran into an ex boyfriend of mine at the mall today. Bill. Thats his name. He was an interesting guy. We actually got together by the urging of friends and co workers. I sometimes wonder if that wasn't the only reason he asked me out, because everyone thought we should be together.
Bill was a home body. Didn't like to go out, didn't care to be in big crowds of people, would be perfectly content to never leave the house. Basically a border line agoraphobic. Most of our dates were going out to movies, followed by parking somewhere and making out like it was a matter of life and death. This was at the time of your teenage years when you think its cool to have hickeys. My God, did we have some awful ones. I can recall going into work one morning, and a coworker actually gasped, and asked if I had been in a car accident. It was that bad.
After a few months, the relationship started to slow down a bit. Less going out, and more excuses from him about staying home. That is, unless something tragic happened. He had this strange habit of being extra attentive to me if I were upset about something, especially if I cried. My sadness seemed to be a major turn on to him. I brushed it off at first, but then when my grandma was doing really badly, constantly in and out of the hospital, and I was susceptible to crying more often, he seemed to be in a constant state of arousal.
I can recall him driving me home from the hospital after just visiting her. I started to cry, worried about her, of course, and noticed stirring in his pants just as the first tears fell. The more I cried, the more aroused he became. This was disturbing.
He could ignore me completely for days on end, barely showing interest in me. But at the slightest hint of distress, he was quickly grinding his rock hard erection into my hips or pelvis. I suppose it was his way of comforting me? Surely, sadness can't be a fetish, can it? Regardless, this relationship didn't last long. Unfortunatly for him, we had a happy ending. Ha! My wittiness is unending! :)
You don't say
Lots of interesting comments on yesterdays post! Quite a few of you suggest a talk is in order. To say what? Stop masturbating? Thats hypocritical. Perhaps, don't masturbate right next to me? lol We've fought over this so many times before, its just ridiculous. What upsets me is when he chooses that over me, especially when I'm laying right next to him! That has to be the worse! But I don't know what I could possibly say. I wonder if a few of you weren't right in suggesting his laziness. Not wanting to work at it, etc. His back has been bothering him, and it was the middle of the night.... Sex with me isn't always a huge ordeal. I'm not sure how that leaked out. There are plenty of quick stolen romps, and plenty of simple love making that doesn't always make the cut for the blog. lol Which brings me to the next point.
Fucking. Isn't that a funny word? Taken so many ways, from insult to compliment. I once heard that the original defintion of the word 'fuck' was the act of fornication between witches and devils. Thats certainly an interesting take. First of all, yes, I can fuck my husband and vice versa. I have never heard it described as sex outside of marriage before. But maybe thats more of a holy roller definition? Regardless, I would define fucking as hot, passionate almost desperate relations between two people. There is such a teensy tiny fine line between the definition of 'fucking' and 'making love' that I have to believe that it is commonly crossed. How would you define 'making love'? A slow melting of two into one? Thats sounds nice, but isn't it really all the same? I love my husband very much and I know that he loves me. I tend to believe that in our marriage, 'making love' and 'fucking' are one and the same.
Do you guys read Suburban Sex Blog? Thats who the anonymous matchmaker was suggesting I get together with. lol Another version of two bloggers coming together. Although, I'm sure he'd still find something to bitch about, as would I. Isn't that what a blog is for, anyway? It wouldn't be nearly as interesting if everyone was infinitly happy, without a care in the world, now would it?
I was angry when I posted about Rick. Plus it was the middle of the night. lol The combination should signal Blogger to not allow your post to be published until morning, after you reviewed it once more. But, hey, thats what happened and thats how I felt. Thanks for the advice. Hopefully I won't have another incident like this for a long time.
And THANK GOD, that no pillows were harmed this time around! I don't think I could have handled that trauma again so soon!
Shades of red
Are women allowed to get pissed about not getting sex? Its certainly not Stepford, is it? I feel small and petty about being pissed. At the same time, I'm so angry I feel I could cry. Thats definetly a womanly thing to say. So angry I could cry. But its true. I would feel better if I screamed. But my neighbors wouldn't. *sigh* Okay, get ready for the rant, because I feel it coming.
I wear ear plugs to bed. Did you know that? Of course not. I wear ear plugs because Rick snores, and I find myself completely unable to sleep with the loud inconsistant racket beside me. Anyway, I told you that to tell you this:
I wake up to a slight swaying movement of the bed that puts just enough pressure on my full bladder to make me uncomfortable. In my groggy sleepiness, I wonder what it may be. Am I imagining it? No, its a small movement, but the bed is definetly moving. With ear plugs in my ears, I strain for hints of noise, telling me whats going on. No such luck. Suddenly it comes to me. As the bed rhythmically moves, I think it must be Rick jerking off. Fucking bastard! I'm not facing him, so I grab my pillow and roll over, my swift movement quickly met by his own, suddenly turning his back to me. I was right. I must have been, yes? Hes been putting off sex with me, so he can whack off in the middle of the night?! I'm angry, but the swaying of the bed and the pressure it put on my bladder was too much, so I find myself jumping up to use the bathroom, being quick about it so he doesn't have a chance to 'finish off'.
Once I climb back into bed, I wrap my arm around his waist. His quiet breathing tells me hes not sleeping. I lower my hand, finding his dick, still somewhat hard, balls tight. Well, if hes horny, I tell myself, then why don't we fuck? My hand caresses him, and he rolls onto his back. This must be a good sign! Without a second thought, I begin to suck his dick, expecting full appreciation from him, his hand touching me to let me know he likes it, or even a moan or two. Nothing. He plays the part of a corpse lying before me. His dick lacks the usual salute from my oral talents. I hear him make a sound. "Are you asleep?" I ask him. "No." He replies. I continue to suck him, with little response. Frustrated, I think, I'll climb on top of him. That should do the trick. As I get on my knees, I lean up close to him for a kiss, my breasts brushing against his chest. I get a cold, closed mouth kiss. "Whats wrong?", I ask. "Nothing," he answers.
I'm horny as all hell, having been neglected for far too long. I so desperatly want to be with my husband. To feel close to him. To connect. To fuck, for crying out loud! Annoyed at his low response to my touch, I lay down next to him. "*sigh* Sorry I bothered you," I say, hoping for him to pull me on top of him, impaling me on his cock. He laughs. He fucking laughs. Now I'm pissed. You couldn't tell could you? Thats why I specified. Here I am blowing his dick, wanting to randomly fuck him in the middle of the night, and he is laughing me off.
He must have come already, when he was jerking off, I think to myself. Fucking bastard. Selfish jerk. I briefly think of masturbating, right next to him, coming alone with a perfectly good body laying next to me. I shoot that down, as he may enjoy that and I feel he shouldn't be rewarded. So instead, I stew. I get pissed until I can't lie next to him for one more minute, and then I find myself here, typing out my anger to a silent machine. Not as productive as I had anticipated, since I'm still pissed and still horny. And now I can't sleep. Goddammit!!
And Now, My Hump Day Submission!
Thanks to all of you who suggested story ideas, and a special thanks to those who volunteered to be the main character in my story. :)
I melted two story suggestions into one here, and will give credit to those people at the end of the story, as to not ruin the surprise. Also, a blogger friend volunteered to be my subject. I needed a name of course, for both characters, and both names are completely random, not true names of either person. The names have been changed, but the blogs are real. ;) I hope you enjoy.
The last night of a week long business trip, Chris was beat, and far from home. He decided to grab a few quick drinks from the hotel bar before heading up to his room to call it a night. A shot of jagermeister to start things off, and then a beer to follow. He had only just started the beer when the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of the woman setting her clutch down and sitting down next to him.
"Hello," she smiled at him. She was tall, probably close to 5'10" with her high heeled shoes on. Her body formed a perfect hourglass with a narrow waist and full bosom. She looked to be Hispanic, skin tan with olive undertones, dark long hair and big brown eyes.
"Hello there!", Chris replied, smiling at the stranger. "I'm Chris," he introduced himself, offering his hand. She took his hand in hers and answered, "Hi Chris. My name is Angela."
The bartender came up asking what he could get for Angela. "Hmmm...Tequila shot and a beer."
"Not a lot of people like tequila, I know," she laughed.
"You should try a Jager bomb."
"What, pray tell, is a Jager bomb?"
Chris called out an order for one as he explained, "Just a shot of jagermeister and some red bull." When the drink came, Angela looked at it warily before shooting it.
Making a face, she replied, "Tastes exactly like I thought it would." As the alcohol flowed and the night wore on, the two flirted more heavily, touching each other as they talked. After much contemplating, and deciphering body language, Chris decided to make a proposition.
"Listen," Chris started carefully, watching Angela's face for her reaction, "I don't usually do this. I'm only here on business for this one last night. We've hit it off so well...."
"Do you have a room?" Her question surprised him. She must have been thinking the same thing.
"Yeah, right upstairs." Angela grabbed her clutch and then stood up, waiting to follow his lead. Maybe it was the feeling of loneliness, being so far from home. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe this was just a romp that was meant to be. Regardless, he led his new lady friend upstairs to his room.
Once inside, there a was a brief moment of awkward silence. Her giggle broke the quiet, as she reached out to him. Pulling him close, she reached up, running her fingers through his blonde brown hair and staring deeply into his gray eyes. She pressed her body tightly against his as they kissed, slow and polite at first, then turning desperate and hungry. Against her thigh, she felt him growing beneath her.
Chris' hands ran the length of her back, up and down, grabbing her ass and then finding the zipper of her dress, pulling it down and letting it slither down her body, landing in a pool at their feet. Angela stood back, wearing a strapless bra and matching thong, her legs wrapped in thigh high stockings, feet still in her high heel shoes, stepping out of the dress. She eyed the bulge in his pants, her fingers fumbling with his belt and pants, freeing his large cock.
"Wow,"she says, admiring the large shaft before her. "This will be fun." And with that, she slipped the head of his large cock into her mouth, flicking it with her tongue, wetting it with her kisses.
"Mmmmm," Chris replied, leaning against the wall for support as she slowly took more and more of him deep into her mouth. She took him as deeply as possible, nearly gagging, her eyes tearing from the stretch. Her hand cupped his balls, lightly massaging them as she thoroughly lubed his meat, fucking him with her mouth, moaning a bit to add even more sensations to the blow job. Their eyes met, and then he stopped her, pulling her to standing and pressing her body tightly to his. His hand cupped her large breasts, circling the swelling nipples with his thumb.
The mere thought of that moist cock-tip pressing open the lips of her cleft and entering her wet pussy made her weak at the knees. Releasing her breasts from the brassiere, he licked and pinched the tender flesh, as her sex fluttered and pulsed, awaiting his next move.
His hands grabbed hold of her panties, rolling them down her legs for her to step out of, as his fingers then found her pouting slit and began stroking her. His thumb pad pressed against her clitoris, moving in a fluid, circular motion. Her thighs trembled as he parted her labia, exposing the glistening folds of her sex. Leading her to the bed, Chris helped lower Angela down on the mattress.
"I must taste you," he murmured, burying his head between her thighs.
As his tongue flicked against the erect bud of her clitoris, she felt the first pulsating waves of an oncoming orgasm. She clutched his head, mashing her pubis against his mouth and chin. His tongue dove deep within her, tightly constricted through her vaginal spasms.
Climax subsiding, she felt his hips lock with hers and finally his thick cock slid deeply into her. It was hot and felt bigger than she expected, the walls of her vagina closing around him and enfolding him.
"Mmmm..Oh fuck," she moaned, transported to a new level of pleasure. As he fucked her, she met his thrusts, slamming her heated flesh down onto his shaft, drawing him into the secret recesses of her body. Hands reaching beneath her buttocks, he began pumping her with long, slow strokes, the head of his cock nearly drawn completely out of her as he withdrew, the swollen glans nudging open her puffed up labia.
Watching his face, Angela decided to make a request, hoping for it to be fulfilled. "Chris? I want you to fuck my ass."
He stopped thrusting, mouth agape. "You'll let me fuck your ass?" He didn't believe what he was hearing. He had wanted to try anal sex for so long, but lacked the willing partner. "Are you sure that would be okay? I mean, I won't hurt you? I'm not too big?"
She laughed, "Yes, I'm sure, and you won't hurt me. Trust me." At that, she lifted her legs, resting them against his chest, her feet hanging past his shoulders as he felt her ass gripping the head of his erection. Nerve endings he didn't know he had were screaming for him to move, to thrust deeply into her ass, but he waited for her, taking his time and thoroughly relishing the sensations.
Lifting her pelvis up off the bed, she sat further on his engorged cock, hearing a moan escape him as his face contorted in the intense pleasure. Half way inserted, he stopped, looking at her face for approval to go further. A small nod and a smile, and he began to insert the full length of his dick deep into her bowels. A gasp escaped her.
"Are you okay?," he asked.
"It just feels so good. So full. Now fuck me. Fuck my ass."
Inspired by her encouragement, he did just that, slowly fucking her tight hole. She was clenching him so tightly, the pleasure was immeasurable. He knew he wouldn't last long like this. Holding his upper body taut, he thrust once more, jamming his cock into her up to the root. His heavy scrotum was pressed tightly against her.
He clutched at Angela's hips as his semen jetted from him in long aching spurts. Angela climaxed again, the pleasure less intense, but the waves rolled through her with a sweet, aching delight. Chris moaned loudly as her ass clenched tightly around his buried flesh, milking him of the last creamy drops.
Collapsing on the bed, they lay in a tangle of sweaty limbs, the smells of sex and exertion filtering into the room. Tremors, like after-shocks of pleasure, flickered over Angela's damp skin. Chris propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at her before saying, "Now that is good blog fodder."
Laughing, Angela replied, "Don't tell me you blog."
His smile told her he did.
"Well, then, you must tell me the name of your blog so I can check it out. I've been know to blog myself."
"Really?" he said in interest, climbing off of the bed and sitting in the chair behind the desk where his laptop sat. A few key strokes and he turned the screen, showing her his blog. Second guessing herself, Angela joined him at the desk, surprised at the name of the blog staring up before her. "The Good Husband? You're Good Husband?!" She laughed, covering her mouth and shaking her head in disbelief.
"Have you stumbled across my site before?," he asked her, confused at her reaction, and at the same time feeling a bit like a celebrity at the recognition of his site.
"You might say that. Once or twice."
"Well, I'm dying to know the name of your blog. Care to show me?"
Still laughing and shaking her head, Angela typed in the url of her own site. When the page came up, Chris was speechless. "A Taste of the Good Wife. You're Good Wife? I don't believe it!" At that she turned, showing her ass to him, the butterfly tattoo matching the photo on the blog. "Believe it, baby!" Giggling.
The next morning, Chris woke up in his hotel bed, a bit groggy from the alcohol from the night before. There was the slightest hint of sex still in the air, as he strained to remember why. Suddenly he remembered Angela, and searched the room for a trace of her. Nothing. She was nowhere to be found. Had it all been a dream? It couldn't have. Could it?
He got up and showered and dressed, getting ready to head home from the long business trip. Once everything was packed and ready to go, he walked over to his laptop, which was still on. Not recalling having left it running, he glanced at the screen. On it he saw that oh so familiar ass with the butterfly tattoo. "I must have read this before going to bed last night," he thought to himself, as he reached down to close the screen. "That explains my dream."
And then he saw it. There was a new post on the blog. It described in perfect detail the events of his 'dream'. Looking at the clock and looking at the time of the posting, he realized it had only been up for twenty minutes. He couldn't have dreamed it, he was in the shower twenty minutes ago!
A smile broke across his face as he said out loud, "She ain't lyin'. She really is The Good Wife."
Now don't you wish you had volunteered? lol I must credit Chuck
for the bar scene and business trip, and Dick
for the idea of two bloggers coming together. (I'm sure you had something else in mind, but I took the idea and ran with it! :) And of course, I must thank Good Husband
, for volunteering to be my guinea pig in this little adventure.
What did you guys think? Bueno, si?
What could have easily been a day filled with melancholy thoughts and a tear stained facade, was suddenly brightened upon fetching the mail. I couldn't help but smile when I saw the magazine wrapped in black plastic. Of course, I spent time in rememberance of Kevin. It doesn't take the anniversary of his death for me to miss him and feel somber about the circumstances of his early departure. But I also know that while a good cry is a wonderful release of tension and emotion, its not as good a release as what the carefully concealed magazine could potentially do for me.
I sometimes wonder if I don't get more excited about Rick's magazine arriving than he does. Tearing open the plastic, I always feel naughty, like I shouldn't be seeing the contents that were so well hidden just moments ago. It reminds me of sneaking peeks at my dad's magazines when I was younger, and I feel the same sensation of excitement building in my tummy as I did so many years before.
I find myself completely engaged at this section
, staring at the beautifully painted women, admiring both the art and ,of course, their curvacious figures. I can't help but imagine what it would be like to be painted like that. Wondering how the air brushing would feel on my skin, painting the most delicate areas, and having someone hand apply the jewels. The art is amazing, the canvas' gorgeous.
Theres alot of pages of olympians
, their bodies well toned and tuned to precision for their event of expertise. The well defined muscles are nice, but for the most part, they are all small chested. Apparently I'm a boob girl, and I prefer to see a woman with a more well endowed bosom. :) They are, of course, still beautiful to look at. But aren't all naked women?
has a description of the perfect blow job, which offered me no new tricks. Actually, it sounded rather similar to what I already do. Is it really that much of a mystery? But then, I suppose that perhaps not everyone truly enjoys giving oral sex as I do, and may not do it as often. I'm still confused as to why so many women are so scared to death of come, running from it like it is radioactive.
Looking at the images, reading the articles, I found myself feeling excited. I always have. I imagined what pictures, which models would turn Rick on. Which pictures he would spend more time on than others. I imagined his dick stirring beneath his shorts as he admired the naked bodies, hoping he would use that energy on me later.
It wasn't long before my fingers lightly grazed over my pussy, circling the smooth skin with my finger tips, putting pressure near my clit. I was so turned on, I knew it would be easy to come multiple times, and I did. I spent the better part of the afternoon in pure self indulgence, pleasuring myself as I saw fit. The release was heavenly, relaxing both my body and my mind. I'd rest awhile, thinking I was done. And then I'd decide to go for another one, and another one.
I could have taken a blissful nap, relishing after my gluttonous feast of orgasms. But Rick would be home soon, and there was house work to be done. Perhaps he could serve me a few for dessert tonight. One can only hope.
Bystanders ignore pleas of man slain at bus stationBoy, 12, calls police after adults walk away from dying man
By Associated Press KALAMAZOO -- A schizophrenic man allegedly told his brother he heard voices that told him to kill a stranger in a bus station bathroom. Now, Kevin Heisinger -- on his way home to Illinois from orientation at the University of Michigan's social work program -- is dead. He was beaten to death Thursday within earshot of people who never tried to help and never called police, even after they found the 24-year-old dying in a pool of blood, police say. It was a 12-year-old who finally reported the fatal attack, police say. Ypsilanti resident Brian Williams, 40, who has suffered from 20 years of schizophrenia, is in jail on a murder charge. He was arraigned in Kalamazoo on Friday and is being held without bond. He will undergo a psychiatric evaluation. Williams is charged with killing Heisinger as both men were on their way to Chicago: Heisinger to return home before he started his master's degree in Ann Arbor; Williams to see his father. The two men allegedly met in the station bathroom, Executive Lt. Thomas Martin of the Kalamazoo Department of Public Safety said. Several Kalamazoo-area residents expressed outrage that nobody tried to help Heisinger during or after the fatal beating. But there is no law in Michigan that holds bystanders accountable for not helping someone being victimized, Kalamazoo Prosecuting Attorney James Gregart said. No one is believed to have seen what happened in the bathroom. But Martin said several people heard Heisinger call "stop" and "help." When a man did go in to use the bathroom, Martin said, he turned around and walked out after seeing Heisinger lying in a pool of blood. The man then went for coffee at the McDonald's restaurant across the street. Another man found Heisinger unconscious with labored breathing. He, too, left without calling for help. The police have a substation at the bus and train terminal. Finally, Martin said, a 12-year-old boy "asked the adults 'What are you doing?' and called for help." Elizabeth Kutsche said she was angered by the apathy shown during the Thursday murder. "I don't know how to express my disgust and shock," she said. "It's beyond words. I don't understand these people because they can do these things anonymously if they don't want to get involved." For Gregart, it was another example of society becoming "tragically impersonal." "Regrettably, I've seen too many instances where people lack caring and compassion for others -- and that involves domestic violence and child abuse," he said. The adults gave police no explanation for not helping Heisinger, Martin said. "Had somebody interrupted this in some way, jumped, yelled, shouted, we might be investigating an assault and battery, rather than a homicide," Martin said. Williams' brother, Detroit attorney Amos Williams, said Friday that his brother Brian is mentally ill. He is intelligent, brother to three engineers, two of whom graduated from the University of Michigan, and a retired lieutenant colonel in the Army. Amos Williams says his brother's intelligence makes his mental illness harder. "It would be better, he would have less psychic pain, if he were less intelligent. But he knows he's trapped. Even at times when he's on his medication, it breaks my heart. Once, he sat down and cried. He said, 'look at you guys, and look at me,' " Amos Williams said.
I can't stand to hear the asshole who killed him described as a victim. I don't feel sorry for him at all. And to the pricks who couldn't be bothered enough to help save his life, I hope we never meet.
I know I hold some controversial views on crazy people. I believe I have a right to though. I was traumatized, molested and nearly raped by a paranoid schizophrenic who refused to take his medication. That would be my current father in law. One of my dearest, closest friends was brutally murdered by a paranoid schizophrenic who refused to take his medications. He was only 24, and the nicest man you would EVER meet. Today is the four year anniversary of his death.
I have this funny belief that its unfair to let ticking time bombs roam around society, able to kill at a moments notice because "the voices" told them to. They should be detained, and kept away from normal society. I say 'normal' loosely, meaning only those mentally capable of not doing stupid crazy shit all the time with a sickness as an excuse. In my utopian society, they would be no more. But don't mind me, I'm bitter.
Its crazy people that cost me my medicine career, not my laziness or indecision that I so often like to blame. I didn't/don't want to save a crazy person's life. I would sooner have them die beneath my hands than bring them back and let them loose to reek havoc. That sounds crazy doesn't it? But its true, and thankfully I realized my feelings before throwing myself into a hospital setting. Who am I to play God? These feelings of rage, the thought of being unable to treat a patient because of their mental illness, are unsettling. But its the truth, and I've laid it out for all to see. Does that make me a bad person? Perhaps not bad, but definetly bitter.
Today I dedicate my blog to Kevin, my friend who was killed four years ago today. Though, I'm sure he would have been shocked at the content of my blog, lol, I know he would appreciate the dedication.
Its a sad day, but I make it sad. I play the sad music, look at old pictures and letters. Perhaps saddest of all is reading the newspaper article describing his death. So sensless. What is so annoying, is that I know Kevin would have forgiven the dick that murdered him. Thats just how he was.
All my love, Kevin.
I dated a police officer for about six months a few years ago. He often came by the house after work in his squad car, which of course made the neighbors come out in groves to see what was going on. You'd think they would catch on, but rather, they came out like clock work, watching and waiting for some big dramatic scene. My mother was mortified.
His name was David. It would be a good story to say we met when he pulled me over, and rather than give me a ticket, I charmed my way out of it with an amazing blow job. Love at first blow. lol That didn't happen. Actually we met under an even more entertaining occasion. At a donut shop. Honest to God truth. lol I was picking up some donuts for work, and he was picking up donuts for, well, himself. Having not ever been one for junk food or donuts, I really had no idea what to get. The donut lady- I don't know what else to call her, I didn't know her name, she was just the donut lady- was getting aggravated with me for taking so long.
"You act like you've never bought donuts before," he laughed.
"Actually, I haven't." He looked surprised and then amused.
"Well then, I'll help you out." He then proceeded to place my order for me, which all my coworkers agreed was perfect. Of course it was! A professional donut eater picked them out! Poor cops. They have such a terrible reputation. But my God, he and his friends could do some damage to the pasty delights! But I digress.
Somewhere in small talk, he had asked where I worked. Nothing special, until four hours later when all of a sudden the office gets dead silent, save for the desperate whispers. The receptionist seeks me out and very quietly and calmly tells me that there is a police officer at the front desk that would like to talk to me. Of course, I was scared to death! You'd think I had robbed a bank on the way to work, as scared as I felt. I suppose it was just a natural reaction, fearing the cops. Funny, isn't it? But I was scared silly, my heart in my throat as I took the walk of shame to the front, coworkers whispering as I passed, wondering what I had done.
Upon seeing David, I wondered what I had done. Did he follow me and catch me speeding or something? That was hours ago!
"Hi...." I manage to squeak.
"Mind if we step outside?" he asks.
Oh shit! Oh Shit! Oh shit! I felt all eyes on me as we stepped through the doors. I waited through bated breath to find out what was wrong.
His serious look changed to a smile as he asked, "So how'd they like the donuts?"
Big sigh of relief, and I playfully slap him. "You had me scared to death!" I laughed.
"Why? Guilty conscious? Or did you think I followed you and caught you speeding or something?"
"No! Of course not. Thats silly!" He had no clue..lol We started dating that evening.
I really liked David. He was very sweet and I felt very safe and secure around him. (of course I did, he was a cop!) He had two children, which didn't bother me at all, because I have always loved children and wanted some of my own anyway. The problem with David was his ex wife. Ugh. Ultimately, she was the demise of our relationship.
It started with hang up calls in the middle of the night. Not long after, I received a 27 page letter from her, front and back. 27 separate pieces of paper, crazy scratchings on BOTH sides. My God. Accusing me of being a homewrecker, of stealing her husband away, of being a whore. Whatever. When her daughter started to call me mommy, I knew she'd go nuts. I was right. David was constantly apologizing, and then threatening her with a restraining order. She was a druggie and used to leave her children home alone when they were babies so she could go out and find a fix. She didn't even lock the door, not that that would make it any less heinous.
The worst part of the whole degeneration of the coupling was, of course, the children. I had genuinly grown to love them, and felt conflicted in leaving David because I didn't want his children to be hurt. But his ex wife was just too much for me. I couldn't handle it.
He had picked me up on his way home from work in his squad car. Not much was said on the short drive to his house. He pulled into the garage and shut the door as we got out. I leaned against the car, pulling him close to me. My fingers tracing the engraving of his name badge, feeling the pressure of his belt pressing up against my belly. I could see it in his eyes. His face smiled at me, but his eyes were sad, looking into mine and trying to foresee the inevitable.
"Kiss me," I whispered. He leaned in, meeting my mouth with his. As our tongues met, I suddenly thought to myself that we could work this out, that his ex was just a minor speed bump. His smell was intoxicating to me, I breathed him in deeply as my fingers found the buttons on his shirt. He reached down, removing his belt and placing it on top of the car, then pulling off my shirt and kissing the top of my breast. My head fell back, my neck limp from the delicious comfort of his kisses. This could work. We could figure something out. I so desperatly wanted myself to believe that.
With renewed passion, I stripped him of his clothes, my mouth never leaving his. I felt his warm hands coaxing off my clothes as well until we were both exposed to each other, desperatly yearning to be closer.
He fidgeted with the back door of the squad car, before opening it. "Here, climb in." As I turned around, he bent me over, my hands resting on the back seat as he entered me from behind. I felt so full, and yet ironically so empty.
I stood up and turned around, kissing him as he lay me down on the backseat. He leaned down kissing and kneading my breasts, licking a trail down my belly where he flicked my navel ring with his tongue. The look on his face was desperate. Like he was trying to prove something to me with his loving caresses. I closed my eyes, unable to bear the intensity anymore.
He entered me slowly, letting the full length of his cock rest deep inside of me before removing it and beginning to thrust. His movements quickened, fucking me with agonizing dedication. It felt nice, but I felt removed from the experience. He stopped without coming, pulling me up out of the car and tightly embracing me. He kissed my neck in silence, waiting for me to speak. I couldn't find the words.
"You're leaving me, aren't you?"
We dressed in deafening quietness before he drove me home. One last desperate plea with his eyes that I could barely stand to see. He knew why I was leaving. He knew it was because of her.
He drove away just as the sun plunged beneath the horizon. The symbolism was impossible to ignore.
I think, if I had to choose the best time of the weekend, it would be Saturday and Sunday mornings, when Rick takes care of the baby long enough for me to take a nice hot shower. I let the hot water soothe my neck muscles and just relax in the steamy room until the water goes cold.
Why are men so hesitant to go to the doctor? Do you somehow think that toughing out the pain makes you more attractive in some way? It doesn't.
Rick's back has been giving him problems since late last month. I made him a chiropractors appointment right away, only to have him cancel it. "I don't need to go to the doctor. I'll be alright." Three weeks later and hes acting like hes on deaths door. Thankfully, he finally went to the doctor on Saturday.
Sex has been minimal. Have you noticed from my posts? lol Mostly remininscing. Its not his fault if hes hurt, but gee whiz, get it fixed and lets move on!
I know all about back pain. I hurt my back at work when I was 16 and have had problems with it ever since. Then when I was pregnant, I had the joys of a fetus sitting on my sciatic nerve, bringing me mind numbing constant pain that nothing could help. I just had to wait for my precious baby to move his little hiney off my poor nerve. I know back pain sucks, but he could have been better by now.
Laying and sitting both hurt him, and every time I try to nuzzle up to him I hear, "My back!" Finally the other night, after fooling around only to hear, "Ow! My back!", I took charge.
"What?" he asked, confused.
"Stand up. Now." He ever so slowly gets out of bed like an old man, belly aching the whole time. Once hes standing, I scoot to the edge of the bed and pull down his shorts, freeing his dick and quickly taking it in my mouth.
"Oh!" he gasps, thrusting himself deep in my throat, nearly gagging me. I cup his balls with my hand as he slips in and out of my mouth.
"Hows your back?", I ask him.
"Fine. It doesn't hurt when I stand."
Hearing this I reply, "Good. Then you can stand up and fuck me from behind." I turn around on my hands and knees presenting my ass and pussy to him. He licks a finger to wet me, but I'm already moist. Very slowly he starts to insert himself, which I met by bucking up against him, forcing his full length deep inside me.
"Oh fuck!" I moan, as my body meets his thrusts, my ass slapping against his pelvis. I feel his hand rest on the small of my back, pulling me onto him.
"Oh yeah! Fuck me! Mmmmmm.... Fuck my pussy!" Drunk on the pleasure, I feel myself melting into the bed as my walls begin to squeeze around his cock, coaxing him to come. And he does.
Feeling refreshed and alive, I ask him, "There. Now how do you feel?"
"Fine." He answers. "But my back still hurts."
Dear Good Wife,
Thought I'd share some more interesting reader mail.
Hi Good Wife,
Are you a man. Youre words sound like my english teacher. I don't think girls could use big words.
No, Markie I am not a man. It seems as though your english teacher has his work cut out for him though. Good luck with that.
What that guy said about urine is true. It is very good for you, nutricious even, should you wish to try it. If you do venture that way, please do post your experience. Don't worry! I don't want you to send me your specimens! :-)
Enough with the pee emails.
I would like to request a story! :oP How about a mom and son story? Or father and daughter could even be good too!!
I saw you say you wanted a pen pal. I would write you letters. Send me your address and I'll start writing now! (and I'm not crazy, so thats good, right! :)
Thanks so much, but I'm gonna have to pass on that for obvious reasons. Glad you're not crazy though! Thats always good.
And most interesting and impressive of all:
Dear Good Wife,
I love your blog! Excellent and unique writing! So unique, I believe I recognized it from an article you may have written for [name of magazine removed]. Am I correct? And further still, I think I may lucky enough to actually own a book that your nude photos were published in. Is [name of book removed] correct? I was quite the happy man when I made my discovery. Am I correct? (hope I've not made a fool of myself) And if so, may I make a request? I would love to have your autograph. I'd send my book and magazine, but I know its not safe for you to give your address out to strangers. Maybe just on a slip of paper? I'd be very appreciative. I apologize if I'm incorrect and have bothered you. I am fairly certain that I'm correct though!
Anxiously awaiting your response!
Wow, John. Good on ya, love! I was shocked when I received this email. Absolutely SHOCKED. Yes, you are correct, and I would be more than happy to send you my worthless autograph! lol Email me your address at email@example.com
and I'll send you a signed photograph. My goodness. I am just amazed.
Last night, after reading a medical post, I was reminded of scrubs. lol Bear with me, I'm sharing my thought process here. Well, thinking of scrubs reminded me of my stethoscope that was so tragically ruined a few weeks ago. Thinking of my stethoscope, of course made me think of the cat who ruined it, which then reminded me that I need to clip his nails. I hate clipping cat nails. This thought brought me my veterinary technician days. (this sounds strangely like, 'If you give a mouse a cookie'....)
Thinking of my vet tech days,
reminded me of this:
Earlier in the day, we had gotten a call about a lost dog. She was a cocker spaniel who had gotten out of her backyard when the kids left the gate open. The owner was calling around leaving a description and their name and number, should anyone call to report finding their dig. I think her name was Cassie. Anyway, this was common, so we wrote down the information and put it up on the board, forgetting about it as we prepared for surgery.
A few hours later, just as the last surgical patient was placed in its cage, the phone rang. I heard the receptionist answer the phone, and heard her getting directions from someone and asking if they thought the dog was still alive. Upon hanging up, she rushed over to tell us that a dog had been hit by a car and the person who called thinks its still alive. It was a cocker spaniel.
Janelle grabbed the stretcher, yes there are stretchers for animals, and I ran with her to her van. I had a feeling that we would be too late, but Janelle was hopeful and sped to the scene. We saw the body right away, laying on the side of the road, cars zooming past it, choosing not to look or be bothered by it. As we pulled up behind it, I saw its front paw move.
"Quick! Shes still moving!", I spit out as I scramble out of the vehicle running up to the dog. Upon reaching the poor thing, I saw that her skull was crushed. There was no way that she was going to make it. She wasn't breathing, and her tongue was already bluish, her gums pale and tacky. Janelle saw the severity of the injuries and we shared a disappointing look. She placed the stretcher on the ground and we carefully placed the body upon it before heading back to the van.
When we got back to the clinic, the doctors were waiting for us outside. I shook my head at them, signaling to them that it was too late. We brought the dog in and took special care in cleaning up the blood with hydrogen peroxide, making it presentable, should the owner come by to claim it. She had no collar on, but matched the description of the lost cocker spaniel from earlier in the day. Janelle called the owner with the news that perhaps their dog had been hit by a car and asked if they would like to come take a look to verify whether or not it was Cassie. The owner was very adamant that it couldn't possibly be his dog. We found her too far away from home, she wouldn't play in traffic, plus she didn't have a collar on. His dog always wears a collar. He agreed to come by after work though.
Me and Janelle were the only ones left at the clinic when he finally got there. We were just about to close when he walked through the doors.
"Hi. I called about our cocker spaniel...." His sentence trailed off, as I signaled to him that I knew who he was and asked him to follow me to an exam room while we got the body. He was very tall, probably 6'3" or taller. He ran his fingers through his blonde/brown hair as he added, "I know its not Cassie. She always has a collar on. It just couldn't be her. I feel bad for whos ever dog you found though." His blue eyes darted around the exam room nervously. He acted confident that we didn't have his dog, but the fear and anxiety was palpable in the small room. He held his suit jacket in his arms, fidgeting with it as I heard Janelle tap on the door.
I opened the door and helped her carry the dog in, placing it on the table for him to inspect. Janelle quickly left the room, afraid to hear the truth.
"No?" I ask.
He drops his jacket. "No, no, no, no,no!" He reaches out to touch the dog then stops, looking at me as if to ask if its okay. I nod. He barely touches her fur before hes reduced to tears. Its Cassie.
I reach over rubbing my hand against his arm, trying to console him in some way. He plops down on his knees, his body collapsing against mine shaking with his sobs. The weight of his body, nearly pushing me over, I too get on my knees to help support his body against me. His head rests on my chest and I can feel a stream of tears falling between my breasts.
I feel helpless and overwhelmed with a desire to make him feel better. I just held him while he cried. I wanted to kiss the top of his head and tell him everything would be okay, but I just listened to him cry and rubbed his back. He was so exposed, so raw before me. If I thought that sex would have erased his sorrow, I would have eagerly agreed to take part.
I felt sleazy at that thought. Thinking of sex at such an inopportune time. But I felt connected to him. Like, if ever there were a time to have sex with a stranger, and at the same time do a good deed, then this would be a perfect example.
Of course, that didn't happen. He collected himself and apologized before we discussed arrangements for Cassie. One last goodbye to his baby, a hand shake turned hug for me and he was gone.
I had a dream this morning that I was alone in our backyard. I hadn't had sex in over a year, and I hadn't masturbated in that year either. It was warm outside, and looked to be spring, with all the flowers in bloom. Sitting in the grass, smelling the flowers, I found my hand drifting up my leg. I knew what I wanted to do, but for whatever reason, I felt guilty about doing it. Finally, I threw all caution to the wind, pulled off my dress, leaving me naked and began rubbing myself. My fingers seemed to be releasing electrical currents to my pussy, nearly painful, but I couldn't stop. I had to come. I felt a pain in my belly, a tight achey knot of an orgasm waiting to be released. It was uncomfortable, but I knew it would vanish as soon as I climaxed, which encouraged to fingers to work even faster. I felt the knot loosen, allowing the waves of ecstasy to erase the pent up tension. I woke up having the most forceful, contracting orgasm that I have ever had in my entire life. I could still faintly feel the ache in my belly, almost like a sore muscle, relaxing as my pussy pulsed. The unexpected intensity left me gasping as I rode out the sensations, leaving me breathless and stunned at the same time. I wake up in the middle of an orgasm more frequently than you would think, probably 3 or 4 times a month, always alone, after Rick has left for work and after an erotic dream. What a wonderful way to start the day!
Look at me! I've been sent an urban legend/scam! I feel so special.
Business Partnership Required
Attn: The President/CEO I am Mr. David Tungay, Provincial Director Standard Bank of South Africa, Johannesburg Branch. I have urgent and very confidential business proposition for you.On June 6, 2000, a foreign Oil consultant/contractor with the South Africa Mining Corporation, Mr. Richard Moss made a numbered time (Fixed) Deposit for twelve calendar months, valued at US$25,000,000.00 (Twenty- five Million Dollars) in my branch. Upon maturity, I sent a routine notification to his forwarding address but got no reply. After a month, we sent a reminder and finally we discovered from his contract employers, the South Africa Mining Corporation that Mr.Richard Moss died from an automobile accident. On further investigation, I found out that he died without making a WILL, and all attempts to trace his next of kin was fruitless.I therefore made further investigation and discovered that Mr. Richard Moss did not declare any kin or relations in all his official documents, including his Bank Deposit paperwork in my Bank. This sum of US$25,000,000.00 is still sitting in my Bank and the interest is being rolled over with the principal sum at the end of each year. No one will ever come forward to claim it. According to South Africa Law, at the expiration of 5 (five) years, the money will revert to the ownership of the South Africa Government if nobody applies to claim the fund.Consequently, my proposal is that I will like you as a foreigner to stand in as the next of kin to Mr. Richard Moss so that the fruits of this old man's labor will not get into the hands of some corrupt government officials. This is simple, I will like you to provide immediately your full names and address so that the Attorney will prepare the necessary documents and affidavits which will put you in place as the next of kin. We shall employ the service of two Attorneys for drafting and notarization of the WILL and to obtain the necessary documents and letter of probate/administration in your favor for the transfer. A bank account in any part of the world which you will provide will then facilitate the transfer of this money to you as the beneficiary/next of kin. The money will be paid into your account for us to share in the ratio of 60% for me and 40% for you.There is no risk at all as all the paperwork for this transaction will be done by the Attorney and my position as the Branch Manager guarantees the successful execution of this transaction. If you are interested, please reply immediately via the private email address below. Upon your response, I shall then provide you with more details and relevant documents that will help you understand the transaction. Please observe utmost confidentiality, and rest assured that this transaction would be most profitable for both of us because I shall require your assistance to invest my share in your country.Awaiting your urgent reply via my email:firstname.lastname@example.org Thanks and regards. Mr.David Tungay.
That money would buy a lot of margaritas and Wiggles tickets. What a cruel joke.
Ahhh...So this is what a real life, billionaire, porn star looking, children's character looks like. lol Thanks for the insight, wilde_thought. ;0) Who am I to judge? I'd jump at the chance for some pirate lovin'. Ha, ha, ha, and you thought I was done talking about the Wiggles. Silly people. Incidently, yes, we were that freakin' close to the good captain and the other 'geeky' guys, as wilde puts it. I like geeks. Whats wrong with that? ;0) Seriously though. No more Wiggle posting. I promise. Really. Blame this one on wilde_thought. Its all his fault.
Don't Try This At Home
I'm surprised at the number of people using my site as an example of 'what not to do'. lol Some jokingly, probably the ones who are embarrassed to talk about sex. And others just appalled that I write what I do in good conscious.
Whats so funny about the last group, is that I usually get the most hits from their reference of me. lol Whoops! No one is tying you up in your chair, forcing you to click over to my site. (if they are, then you probably enjoy it!;0) So, the easy solution is to stop coming here. You won't all of a sudden find me posting about church sermons or casserole recipes, so stop looking! But feel free to continue using me as an example. Your stuffy friends rather like me.
I've been blog whoring, and have found some good sites. lol What, you may ask, is blog whoring? Well let me tell you! hee hee When I first started this blog, and had no one commenting, I decided to cruise the recently updated blog list, *hoping* to find an audience, or at least an audience who would talk back to me! lol I found quite a few blogs that way. Blogging like I never blogged before, Road to Pregnancy, Rantings of an Internet Salesman, Blogging Without A Net, A Fool For Women, Hex, Fries and VideoScotchtape. Is your name on my list? lol Are you surprised that I found you by blog whoring? Its a dirty job...
Anyway, in the last few days, I've found some more blogs worthy of note, and that will find a home in my side bar hopefully soon. Are you surprised by the blogs I read? Not a lot of kink in there, is there? Mostly funny blogs, actually. Maybe I just want you to come here for the kink...lol No, there are some good sex blogs up there. I just didn't find them through blog whoring. We met through a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting. lol I kid.
And now the new blogs:
My dark little corner of cyberspace~ A day in the life account of a real life hero, a fireman. He is a doll, and you must go read his site. Everyone needs to understand what these men and women go through.
A Butterless Man~ Ahhhh... Professor Mel! I just simply adore his writing and the intellect that shines through his posts. His metaphoric writing is poetry in motion, causing the reader to lose their sense of place and time as they are pulled into his world through his words. A must read. *Edited for Professor Mel's pleasure*
Intermediate Animal Cracker Survey~ Oh my goodness, this site! lol Run by Tralfie, I am stunned that more people aren't flocking to his site. Hes very funny, easily comprable to the bigger funny sites, and yet no signs of his visitors. His comments and tracker must be broken. That must be it.
The Incredible Journal of a Weird Dude~ This is another web surfing site, kinda like Rich's. Its run by Rolando, and has funny pics, clips and jokes. Very entertaining, and hes a sweetheart.
I hope I haven't forgotten anybody.
One more note, yesterday's story was not the planned Hump Day submission. That has been delayed to next Wednesday so I can add the new lead character, remember? lol I've gotten more emails about that. Its coming, and it will be good. ;0)