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dysfunctionalwomansdigest

Sanity is overrated!

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Taboo

A Foolish Consistency is the Hobgoblin of Little Minds—Emerson

I am so pissed off right now!  I submitted entries to a writing challenge recently and I didn’t receive even an honorable mention for creativity.  I read the other entries and they were fine and well-written, and sentimental and (dare I say it?) predictable!  Needless to say, I feel as though I have been slighted due to my quirky and extremely unpredictable story twists and turns.  I realize that my dark and slightly skewed sense of the world is not for everyone but seriously, I think that the element of surprise should compensate for something…or do we only exist as automatons in this world?  Unless something is mushy, gushy, and has the potential to leave us with a lump in our neurologically-challenged throats, are we to dismiss it entirely?  

Then there is the subject of niche.  I don’t have one.  I may not ever have a definite topic that is exclusively my own.  I just roll in too many directions to state clearly and definitively that this (insert elusive topic here) is what I prefer to examine and expound.  I simply cannot limit myself this way, which brings me to my next point: I believe that the contributions I have made on my blog may have also had something to do with the lack of encouragement and support.  I was careful to take note that the facilitator of the challenge did check out my site and I am merely guessing but I do believe it hurt my chances.  Could it be that there still exists a kind of snobbery and prejudice within the literary discipline? I would dare to venture a guess that if attention had been drawn to my blog, someone might be a tad uncomfortable…?  I don’t know, it’s just a guess. 

This brings me to another point: randy writing has been with us since humans began to carve images onto stone!  Sensuous and erotic prose is as natural as sleeping, eating, and breathing, however, the Victorian bias is still alive and well when the Brontes (talented, though they were) fit our only conception of what is defined as literature.  Any English major has read Chaucer, Lawrence, Wilde, Nabokov, and The Pearl.  What about the Kama Sutra, an antique text which dared to commit to print the most sensuous and pleasurable acts to take place between two humans?

Indifference, not criticism, is the enemy of creativity and I would appreciate any feedback you would care to share.  Now that I have gotten that off of my chest, here are two of my entries that I thought were pretty damn good:

The scenario is a blind date that starts off well until….

At exactly half-past eight, she appeared. Looking more striking than her description, my heart began to pound with excitement. Will she like me? Will she think I am as desirable as I find her? What can I say to her that will not betray my nervousness and faltering self-confidence? She spotted me with ease and walked directly over to me and without saying a word she grabbed my hand and pulled me out onto the dance floor. Hips swaying to the loud sensuous beat, her dancing had me panting like a dog in heat. I dared to touch her by encircling her waist in my arms and suddenly we were flesh on flesh and I could feel her hot breath on my neck. She was so stunning and sexy that I realized she may not think that I am up to her standard but she seemed to be into me by responding to my lead on the floor. At one point, she turned and I could feel her soft, round bottom slightly pressing into my pelvis and I almost couldn’t control myself. Thankfully the music stopped and she grabbed me by the hand and led me outside to cool our sweating bodies within the embrace of the soft ocean breeze.

I looked at her and thought “What a perfect night…” And then she spoke for the first time, “You look so beautiful, wherever did you find that gorgeous red dress?!” It was then that I heard his deep, baritone voice and realized that to my dismay that she was a man.

The next scenario is a child who is talking in her sleep:

Tonight he would be prepared. Climbing into bed with a pencil and pad of paper, his plan was to have these items ready as soon as the child was asleep and her lips began to move. The child’s sleep-talking had begun a few weeks ago and he didn’t pay much attention to her gibberish at first but over the following weeks the noises had turned into an intelligible form of discourse. Her audible murmurings were beginning to reveal things that a child of four, his child of four, should not and could not know. Her mother had been equally disturbed.

“I don’t know when all of this started but I am not getting any rest since Daphne starting sleeping in our bed,” she had said. “First it was your insomnia and now it’s her talking and rolling around and I am exhausted.” She pointed to the bags under her eyes as confirmation.

“I know, honey,” said Paul. “Let’s start a new bedtime routine tomorrow and we will make sure to wear Daphne out at the park in the afternoon. It shouldn’t take but a few days and then we will be getting a good night’s rest again, OK, honey?” Paul secretly hoped that tonight he would be able to jot down what he was certain was an intelligence from another dimension. Somehow, someway, a transmission was occurring through his child and he could swear that he had been specifically chosen for this revelation. He just wished that his wife would not interfere until he could accurately transcribe the mysterious knowledge.

Paul reached to turn-out the light as his wife rolled over with a deep sigh and said goodnight. Setting the pad of paper and his pencil next to the bed, Paul made certain that his unopened refill of risperidone was still carefully concealed.

 

Enjoy!  XO   DWD

Existential Exhibitionism: Part VII

She looked around; it was definitely time to get some projects completed.  As a single woman, the never-ending compilation of “male” tasks was always an issue.  Who in their right mind would ever want to spend their Saturday cleaning and organizing the garage?  Not to mention the yard work!  She practiced her procrastination skills as if they were an art form; until the day the notice came from her HOA.  These “memos” were certainly helpful in keeping the neighborhood nice, but what a pain!  Ah well, there was no escaping the mundane tasks of life and they could certainly be a bitch and it was time to quit whining and get busy or the HOA would have its hands in her wallet.

She dressed in her cut-off shorts and a tight-fitting tee, tennis shoes, and sunglasses; she was ready to tackle the mother!  Stepping into the yard, the weeds and other debris were everywhere so she set about getting the proper tools from the garage and began to work.  She had been at her task long enough to produce a light sweat and as she wiped the moisture from her eyes and face, she poured a light stream of water down between her butt-cheeks…ahhh, refreshing!  The bottle of water she had stashed in the freezer in preparation for this particular task had come in handy and she liberally poured some down the front of her tee.  As she looked around, she definitely was making progress but there was a lot left and honestly she would rather be doing anything else!

As she continued to work diligently at her task, she was oblivious to the man who had been studying her industrious form.  Feeling that uncomfortable sense of being observed, she looked up to see a good looking man, about six feet tall and nicely built, smiling at her efforts.

“Can I help you?” She asked sarcastically, aware of her wet tee shirt and her shorts which had the appearance of sweat in her butt-crack; normally, she would have never been caught dead in this predicament but it was yardwork and she was annoyed; who the hell comes to your fence and just stares at you without offering to help?!  She decided to allow her irritation to show through, unfiltered.  “If you are selling something, the answer is ‘no’ and if not, either pick up a shovel and help me or hit the road.”

Much to her surprise, he came through the gate and picked up a rake and began to clean up the weeds she had feverishly hoed.  She watched him casually, every now and again, wondering where she had seen him before and as she accepted his presence in her space she noticed his finely chiseled features and small, tight butt.  He had a way of smirking that allowed her to suppose that she could imagine what he was thinking about and she decided that maybe her appearance was a bit more enticing that she realized…?  As she continued to slyly study him, she decided that he was definitely doable and she was determined to find out if he was all that his looks seemed to promise.  They continued to work for a while in silence until finally she decided that at the minimum she would offer him something to drink.

“Would you like to come inside for a cold drink?  Is this your way of doing your Boy Scout deed of the day?”  She teased.

“Well, I was watching you and I thought that you might want some help but I wanted to test your bitch factor first—before I had a chance to ask, you beat me to it.”  He said with a sly boyish grin.

Not exactly certain where she had scored on that test, she decided to ignore the comment until she had figured out if she even cared enough to know.  Entering into the cool house, they were both sweating profusely and she couldn’t help but smell his musky, delicious aroma.  He smelled like Man, and it was good!  There and then she made her decision to have him and have him she would!  Not caring to know anymore, she went with her gut instinct and offered him the opportunity to shower off the sweat that glistened so sensationally on his face and arms.  He was a mixture of lean muscle and deeply tanned Marlboro Man roughness; his green eyes were piercing within the contrast of brown skin and white straight teeth and he had a habit of flicking his tongue to the outer edges of his mouth when he spoke.  Almost subconsciously, she found herself imitating this tongue-flicking gesture and she felt herself getting more and more turned-on as she sensed the heat between her legs…she could really use a spray of that water bottle now!

He politely accepted the clean towel that she held out to him and followed her down the hallway to the bathroom.  As she closed the door, she heard him turn on the shower and begin to disrobe.  Hmmm…should she or shouldn’t she…he was a neighbor and in the name of hospitality…?  Oh hell, yes!

She stripped down quickly and being certain that she heard him enter the shower, she quietly let herself in and in one swift movement she pulled back the shower curtain and stepped inside.  He didn’t appear to be too surprised but the look on his face was definitely pleasing.  Taking one long survey of her naked body he simply remarked, “I can’t believe how much of a hottie you are…” to which she simply smiled.  Without a word, she began to wash him gently all over his chest and arms and then his back; she tenderly scrubbed his small tight ass and softly reaching between his legs, she lightly rinsed his scrotum and his anus.  He was beginning to harden so she continued down his legs before turning him around to finish.  Then while he watched, she began to wash herself never once taking her eyes off of his; she filled her washcloth with foamy body-wash and began to wash her breasts and stomach while gradually moving below her belly-button.  Once she reached between her legs, she put the washcloth aside and grabbed a hold of his hand and began to guide his movements by allowing his two fingers to explore her lips and finally she led him to her clitoris and showed him how to gently circle it without actually touching it until she was ready.

He dropped down onto his knees and after raising one of her legs and positioning it onto the small edge of the bathtub, he began to lick her by lightly flicking his tongue over and all around her clit…it was absolutely and incredibly hot!  She felt the adrenaline rush inside of her as the urge to explode mounted; she wanted to stay there forever, teetering on the edge of pleasure and capitulation, it was bliss!  She felt every cell of her skin responding and she writhed with physical pleasure that only comes from the excitement of a new partner and the freedom of no expectations.  The orgasm that followed was so deliriously explosive that she embraced it and held it until her quivering legs could not support her any longer.

“Well, if I had known that being a Boy Scout was this rewarding I would have become a lifetime member.”  He murmured sensuously and appeared to be very pleased with himself.  She looked at him and smiled and still she said nothing; talk is overrated at times like these and what she wanted to do to him did not require conversation.

She turned off the shower and toweled him dry; gently guiding him to sit in the chair in her bedroom, she knelt down on the floor and began to massage his penis which was hot and throbbing with desire.  She could tell that he wanted to be inside her but she was calling the shots and she would decide when, or if, that was in his future.  For now, she rubbed and tickled his hardness with her tongue and taking him into her mouth she consumed him until he could hold back no longer and he gave her the precious price of her desire which she swallowed with great satisfaction.  Leaving him like cooked spaghetti, she lightly rose to her feet and dressed.  His eyes followed her every movement and seemed to beg the question of “What’s next?”  To which she simply replied, “That yard is not going to clean itself; let’s hit it!”

 

Moral: A good worker is worthy of his hire.

Existential Exhibitionism: Part Trois

The woman presented a polished outside appearance which belied the savage sexuality  that simmered just under her composed surface.  At times, a fearful uncertainty would arise; she had consciously worked to keep the compartmentalization of her two selves distinct and separate and the thought that this carefully constructed delineation would somehow begin to dissolve left her uneasy, but not enough to abandon the hunt.  The camouflage of respectability and decorum would be unceremoniously pushed aside in pursuit of a new game and her intense focus would shift once again; new quarry meant a new challenge and therein would lay some of the thrill.  Amidst her fears, a sense of smug confidence and mischief often created great pleasure in her fantasies of being caught or discovered; never had anyone ever hinted or intimated that they were aware of her secret life but the imagined exposure was very intriguing and occupied many of her thoughts.
This particular night was going to be an experiment.  An experiment in seeking and finding the kind of thrill for which the woman hungered in order to satiate her desires and to validate the sensation of being fully and wholly alive.  When the craving would hit,  animal instincts would rush to the surface like an underwater diver who is starving for oxygen. Once the surface was breached, her instincts would trigger a hyper-awareness to every sight, sound, taste, and smell.  Instantaneously, her pupils would dilate and her blood would begin to pulsate and pound throughout her body.  She was acutely aware that nothing else mattered to her at those moments but the prey that was within her sights and the submission of that prey to her will.   The intensity of this heightened sensory explosion deliciously revealed itself by the increase in temperature and moisture between her legs.  It was nothing short of nuclear and it was fantastic!
Pulling up to the stop light, the woman glanced casually to her left and then to her right.  Traffic was moderately heavy this early evening but she happened to catch a glimpse of something in her peripheral vision and without being consciously aware, her sights zeroed-in on testosterone-saturated prey and he was openly looking at her. The presence of glass and metal presented no barrier for the electric current of lust and desire that was emitted and exchanged.  The game was on and she was in her element!  She allowed the tip of her tongue to linger as she licked her lips and looked boldly into his eyes; he winked and smiled and proceeded to turn as the signal changed and traffic began to move.  Her appetite had been triggered and there was no going home with an empty stomach…as soon as it was possible, she made a quick U-turn and approached his truck at the gas station.  He smiled when he saw her and she knew she would have him.
She got out of her car, being careful to make certain that the top of her thigh-high stockings were revealed under her casually hiked-up skirt.  Never taking her eyes off of him, she felt as though she had super-human vision and could see a light sweat present on his handsome and slightly whiskered face.  He had deeply chiseled features and piercing eyes that gave her the impression that he was already imagining her naked.  His body was muscular and hard and he had the delicious scent of man emanating from his every pore.  She walked boldly up to him and stuck her hand into the top of his pants and grabbing onto his belt she said, “Don’t talk.  Meet me in the back of the building in five and I will give you something that you will never forget…”  He opened his mouth to speak and she gently touched her finger to his lips and at once he was silenced.
To be continued…

Cheesecake

Cheesecake.  Just saying its name conjures up visions of smooth and creamy indulgence.  There is absolutely nothing more delectable than a proportionate-sized piece of this rich goodness which causes the memory of its consumption to linger and if it is exceptionally tasty, the desire for more will never be sated.  In order to fully enjoy this epicurean experience, it is essential that you have a  craving for its unique offerings: an earthy, musky smell that creates instant salivation, the right balance of perfect sweetness and creaminess that instantly registers melt-in-your-mouth goodness by isolating and triggering those taste buds whose only purpose is to signal a complete sense of satisfaction in the brain.  Added to this sensory experience, the sounds of complete quiescent pleasure which emanate from the lucky ones to which it is given.

Which brings me to my own personal recipe.  I take pains to make certain that this dessert is presented in its glory: contrasting linens to accentuate the color and texture of its pale ecru smoothness, the proper accessories to aid in its consumption, and an atmosphere of decadent indulgence to cap-off the experience.  Nothing is left undone and there is no detail is too small to accentuate and emphasize the ceremony of the occasion.

Love affairs share the same hedonistic pleasures as a piece of cheesecake.  As a dessert, they can compliment an ordinary predictable meal, however, as the main course….not so interesting.  The enjoyment of a decadent pleasure can only be accomplished once the drudgery and necessity of responsibility has been fulfilled.  If a tantalizing treat becomes the Fare-of-the-Day, it is no longer a treat and loses it appeal as something special.  To be able to enjoy being the treat without the desire of being the daily special, is an art to which women who are cheesecake understand: passion or predictability?  Titillation or tedium?  Which have you chosen?

Existential Exhibitionism…Part Deux

You pause and think quickly, this is either the luckiest day of your life or the most foolish.  One way or another, you will have your answer within the next two minutes, you say to yourself as you casually rise from your chair and mustering all of the self-control that you possess, walk as nonchalantly as possible toward the dark corner.  You are acutely aware that you may be making a fatal error in judgement, but at the same time you realize that this may be the chance of  a lifetime!  You can still smell her perfume and you feel the tightness in your pants as your desire propels you forward.  The time for second thoughts has passed as you allow the darkness to swallow you and her scent to fill your nostrils; your heart is racing and your cock is throbbing as you feel small, soft hands reach up to grab your neck and pulling you down to her, she opens her mouth and the kiss is nothing short of nuclear fusion.  You have forgotten where you are, who you are, and all facets of reality as your senses explode with animal desire.  Her mouth is warm and wet and she kisses you deeply with her delicate tongue; she has her hand on your crotch and is lightly rubbing and feeling the outside fabric pulled taut against your zipper.  She deftly unbuckles the belt you are wearing and just as quickly unzips your pants and reaches in to relieve your discomfort with the firm, warm strokes of her hand on your blood engorged and throbbing phallus.  Sweetly, exquisitely, she drops to her knees and begins to lick the tip and the rim of your cock; you feel the warmth of her mouth slowly begin to swallow you as you are fully engulfed.  She runs the tip of her hardened tongue up and down, slowly over your member.  You hold her head in your hands as you guide her movements and the intensity of her rhythm.  So deliciously, you feel your scrotum rising and beginning to tighten, your moment of turbulence is about to feel release…not yet, not yet, you say to yourself but you know you are helpless to stop the sweet misery that will lead to your capitulation and  final expression of ecstasy….

To be continued…

 

Anyone have a cigarette…?!

 

Back-Door Man

I have had this “write” on my mind for a bit and  one thing that I noticed immediately is that every phrase that comes to mind seems to offer open season for punning when the topic is anal sex!  A somewhat sensitive issue,  I wanted to approach the matter on an experiential level aimed at relating the facts, along with the nuts and bolts of the adventure.  Needless to say, this required some revolutions in the hamster wheel before being able to relate the subject with objectivity and to successfully share the physical practicalities.  The focus of my mental masturbation is quite obviously a touchy topic and for those of you who have not tried it, I have to say that no well-rounded (ahem) sexual syllabus is complete without giving it a shot!

I am fortunate to have a sexy and sensuous FWB who is willing and able to try new things and this excites me more than a double shot of espresso with an adrenaline chaser!  My heart starts pounding and my hands begin to shake at the very thought of a rendezvous with him and this particular occasion was no exception, however, I had some trepidation about the back-door adventure due to my lack of experience.  I know that the right amount of pressure applied on the anus, and even a slight fingertip insertion, can cause a sensational orgasm when sex-ing it up doggie-style, but to have it as the main course…well, that was another matter entirely!   So, I began preparations by cleaning things up a bit (not optional!), after which I was ready to be teased, touched, and turned-on!  Once pre-heating was accomplished, I rolled over onto my side. My research all pointed to side entry as being the best way to be able to receive penetration and to better enable easing his penis slowly inside (did you hear: SLOWLY..?!) in order to enjoy the pleasure this position has to offer (you mustn’t forget the lube!).  The concentration of nerve endings in this area can only rival the concentration found in the clitoris and to experience them both at the same time is to conjure up images of the historic explosion of Mount Vesuvius as it destroyed Pompeii!  In short, the experience was exciting, orgasmic, and very exotic!  I felt as though I had truly arrived at the pinnacle of my sexual prime by engaging in this wild adventure.

I must confess, however, that I remain a fan of my vagina and I really prefer the standard menu fare with all of its side dishes, however, with the promise of orgasmic nirvana, I am willing to try anything once, or twice, or…?!

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