I practiced total sloth this weekend! After Friday night, I did not leave the house. I had to reign myself in and pull back my energy and recharge my batteries. (Not those batteries–they are always charged!) I seem to have two speeds: zoom and zero! I spent much of the day reading my favorite blogs (yes, that means you) and storing up ideas and fantasies for my next go-round. A “friend” has notified me that he is moving back to my area and that I had better “get ready.” I wasn’t sure how to respond to that and I became somewhat apprehensive, then it hit me: he better get ready! I am certain that he has an idea of me that could not be further from the truth. I have kept my secrets pretty close except what I share on this blog but perhaps the time has come for more integration and acceptance of who I am and more importantly, who I have always been. There are so many things left to experience and so little time! Meow!
I participated in the most unusual experience last night: I went out into the middle of the desert with a group of people and beat a drum to the setting sun. The purity and humbleness of the Native American drums when combined with the sound of the aurora drums, was magical and time-travel mysterious. Very soothing and sensual, I became aware of the rhythms and vibrations which helped my mind and body ease into a more primitive and relaxed state. The setting sun positioned itself against the backdrop of purple desert mountains and it was as if I could feel the awareness of an old soul in union with a former dimension of raw naked life, amidst raw naked beauty.
I wasn’t certain what kind of humans participated in this weekly gathering, maybe some old hippies or New-Agers…? I am willing to try anything once, so I came with some friends and an open mind; turns out that the people were completely average, no hippies or witches, and they gather once per week to release the stresses of modern life and to embrace the simplicity of the musical heart beating to the rhythms of nature. In an age when everything has become so complicated, the unencumbered and raw sounds of beauty are most welcome. I just might try it again…?
I don’t want to
what I love and enjoy;
I merely want to
roll it deliciously
over my tongue
all the while
So, I had a little adventure this week with the “P” spot…I am not sure how this is supposed to play-out but the adventure did not live up to its hype. Even with adequate lube and a gentle hand… um, finger…it was awkward and giving oral at the same time, well, was a lot like an Olympic sport; this is to say that it required considerable coordination, endurance, and the ability to finish strong! This is not to mention the mental acuity of remaining sensitive to the…um, sensitivities of my partner. I felt that the simultaneous physical, and mental maneuvering was a bit tricky and although I thought that the practicalities of this new experiment may be challenging, I felt that the rewards would be worth whatever efforts needed to be made.
The excitement of trying something new and the anticipation of pleasing this delicious man was exhilarating. We had been planning to explore this new territory for several weeks and the moment finally arrived; I had visions of the rapturous pleasure he would experience as the stimulation of his sweet spot caused the orgasm of all orgasms! Alas, accessing the sweet spot turned out to be a lot like Lewis and Clark looking for the northwest passage: they never found what they were after but they did learn a few valuable lessons about the geography. Perhaps this is a technique that requires practice and perseverance? I don’t know if my FWB will be willing to try again, however, I am not willing to give up just yet!
I can tell you that men almost always have the advantage in the new publishing paradigm. They have the edge for the same reasons they gain the advantage in the workplace.
She painted her toenails carefully; choosing a sleek, deep, fiery red. Her experience had shown her that this type of man loved these details and the results were well-worth her effort. First she had soaked in a warm, scented bath and afterward she had sensuously applied a thick, rich emollient to her entire body. Taking care not to miss a single curve or hiding place, she thought of his lips and tongue exploring her every secret and her hands began to shake.
She chose her dress strategically; revealing some of her shapeliness and hinting at the rest. She wanted him to see just enough to think that he knew what lay beneath, and under. She imagined him undressing her with his eyes as his senses caressed the softness of her skin and the wetness of her desire. This night was to be the night that he would surrender to her completely and unrestrained.
The woman chose a pair of thigh high stockings–jet black with lace at the top. He would most certainly approve as she envisioned his full attention captured and held hostage to the promise of what was yet to come. She thought that she knew this one well enough to be able to anticipate his responses with confidence. She knew that look: intense and prolonged eye contact with one brow slightly raised, combined with a slight flick with the tip of his tongue to the corner of his mouth. It was pure lust and it was more intoxicating than any cocktail that was ever created.
Acknowledging her prowess in all things seductive, a slight smile played across her red lips. She pictured his capitulation of power and the awareness of his own vulnerability. That elusive “something” that he possessed would belong to her, at least for a time. The potency of seduction and his inability to resist the fantasies of her anticipated surrender, caused her heart to pound as adrenaline surged through her body. She began to perspire.
Allowing her mind to filter through the erotic memories of previous encounters, the thrill of the hunt caused her breathing to quicken. The remembrance of passionate, sensuous, pleasure- filled nights rocked her senses as she became aware of the shallowness of her own inhalations. She determined to slow down her racing thoughts or she would be exhausted before the evening began.
Inevitably, she knew she would concede to the surrender of her desire; until that time, however, she would revel in his anticipated reactions as he succumbed to her skill in all its power and control. She would hold him at bay while she attempted to capture those tangible sensations of deliciously tenuous energy; if only she could find some way to hang on to these moments a little longer, to prolong the pleasure, the sensation, the pure escape of passion…
She painted her nails…
Thursday is my favorite day of the week. There has always been a big deal made over “hump-day” because it is the middle of the week but I prefer Thursday, hands-down. Thursday is the day of the work week that gets everything started as the weekend is scoped-out, plans are made, and the excitement begins to build as I look forward to every working woman’s reward: Friday night! Thursday sets the stage and can determine the level of my anticipation which is dependent upon the promise of what is to come (no pun intended). Thursday can leave me breathless, excited, and anxious for the big event, such as a party, or a date, or just a quiet weekend at home. It doesn’t really matter, all I know is that Thursday is the day that I look forward to with pleasure because my work week is almost finished and my real life begins. Foreplay is much the same: the anticipation, the tension building, the senses are focused, and finally the epitome of ecstasy arrives as the realization of my closeness to Friday is almost there! Thursday is the point at which I reach that sweet agony between pleasure in a week well-spent, and the capitulation of sublime release. Yes, Thursday is a day in which to look forward with eager anticipation…yes, oh yes!