Oh I just had to!
Stolen from The Goth Mom
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Now playing: Red Hot Chili Peppers - Snow ((Hey Oh))
via FoxyTunes
Stolen from The Goth Mom----------------
Now playing: Red Hot Chili Peppers - Snow ((Hey Oh))
via FoxyTunes
Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts
7 Dec 2008
2 Sept 2008
Bi-Curiosity
Being the liberal open-minded person that I am (claim to be), I set out to finding once and for all, whether I was all-the-way straight or half-bent… as that would be the opposite. Might as well before waking up one day, hubby, 2.5 kids, a dog and picket fence years down the line, only to discover that I love of the feminine body feel, apart from mine, of course. I do have my fights as to why one group that adheres to a certain sexual conduct is called straight. I mean straight, as an adjective, denotes perfect, upright, undiluted, neat, pure, and my personal least favorite, unadulterated. Which goes not so far as to imply that the other no-so-popular group of individuals have to contend with the antonyms of the above oh-so glorious titles. Anyway, that is a fight I'll pick one day…
Did I like it? Yes …and No.
Yes, I loved the exquisiteness and marvel of the female body. The susceptible dip below the jawbone; that tender spot between the collarbone and the shoulder blade… that yielding part that if you looked really hard at, you would see the rhythmical beating of the heart…the gentle rise of the breasts, the swell of their fullness topped by the leisurely hardening nipples, begging, craving for attention, beseeching the tongue to skim over the tops, if only to lick, or even to brush gently with the thumb…The persuasive way that the breasts mold up, defying the rest of the body, jutting forward to proudly declare that they need consideration. And then the deep sigh I elicit when my palms enclose their full mold, encompass them in my hand and gently fondle, caress, squeeze and stoke. As my hand plays havoc with the little of senses that the fabulous and exciting mold has left, if any, my tongue sucks, nibbles, blows, and flicks over the other one. The underside of the arms, those covert places that respond to that ever so slight feather touch. And then lower along her sides, by the ribs so lightly patterned. Then move lower to the stomach, to the ever so elusive but wondrous navel, to the side where the definition of femininity resides - the moderate curve of the hips. And as she bends her knees - probably to receive more, probably because she can't stay still, or probably because it is a conditioned reflex that is directly proportional to the amount of pleasure that she is getting – exposing that inside of the thigh that is hardly ever seen. That silky-smooth skin that is kept hidden and secret, that which only the fingers, and sometimes the tongue knows the feel of. And then to view comes the sleek triangle, the invitation to veiled pleasures lower below. And past the triangle, draws closer the tiny bundle of nerves that by now is so hard it is on the verge of exploding. The legs that were bent are no apart, the pink opening leading to the dark delightful enclave, inviting, tempting, daring like the little mould, enticing, beguiling, appealing, engaging, tantalizing, and ah! wanting…I have not even gone beyond to the those places behind the knees, the curve of the calves, the supple skin below the ankles, the soles, the heels, the toes…
No, I still missed the masculine feel, the sinew muscles as they flexed with each move he makes; the swell of his arms as he stretches them forth to all parts of my body, catching every single cell unaware yet deftly pleasuring. Then the taut impression of his chest, those firm hard nipples that tighten with every touch of my fingers… the feel of him as he moves atop of me, his breath on my skin, taunting my pores to open to reception. The roughness of his chin as it scrapes on my chest, nipples, my stomach and lower still. His washboard flat stomach, down under to the aching maleness…and finally, as he pries me open, and drives home…not even a thousand dildo's and all other invented toys come close to the sensation I get when he fillls me, as my muscles relax to accommodate the size of him alive inside me, then the contraction of the same muscles as he thrusts purposefully in and out of my warmth…
Have to go, will continue tomorrow...(you know i wont)
DA
This Angel would have fallen worse had she been here
13 Aug 2008
25 May 2008
What doesn't go up...
...gets a heart attack.
Little pieces of information that always makes me question why i didn't know about sooner. Not that i have ED, i mean, i don't have to rise, but it would have helped all those men i've been with who had to be rushed to the ER now and then. I've been bragging that it's my bedroom (or kitchen, or shower, against a tree, or back of a taxi) skills that sends them to hospital. I was even thinking of making a warning sign to men who come to my house. It took a while to get my landlord to agree to me installing this one on my door --
seeing as I'm a good citizen and considerate neighbour, what with mine being the most desired area in the city. Unlike my next door neighbour Kevin(a), who takes all her activities to the streets down below, i like to give ample warning.
I emphasize on her as she reads my blog and would want to keep our nonexistent friendship going. The last time we got onto a fight on about her waste disposal habits, i found this nice note stuck on my door.
Now, threatening to take away my womanhood is bad enough threat, but given that i come from Africa where that might be viewed as a good thing - makes me more docile, they say (bastards!!) - but making me white? That is one serious threat. Which is why I'm not messing with her.
Where was I? Oh yeah - installing signs. After sending about 5 men to the ER, it's only fair that i re-consider my bedroom tactics. I'm taking a hint from my Irish friends
and working on this:
It's still on the concept stage, do not fuss about the design and balance in elements. Why Hollywood, you ask? because they are having too much over there and every one pretends that they don't know the cause of the California fires. Don't believe me? Nicole Kidman can prove it --
Also, If I'm to do one with an African theme, my good intentions will be misconstrued to mean this
and no, I'm not talking about foreign aids.
Looks like i wont have to work on that sign anymore. Because i have been told that it's not my performance that has them looking for this guy --
It has come to my attention that men with failure to launch problems, who do not rise to the occasion, meaning that they bow when they should be saluting have a higher chances of getting a heart attack.
Does that mean that all those unused little workers in the sacs grow old, die and become cholesterol which is stored around the heart?hmm.
I did my duty and bought this plant for one of my 'failures' for his hospital room. It was the least i could do. If i never noticed that he was not 'up' to it, i surely must take part of the blame. I figured that if he kept it watered, seeing it rise and bloom might give him hope.
Which made me think. Does lack of sex cause heart attack too?
Little pieces of information that always makes me question why i didn't know about sooner. Not that i have ED, i mean, i don't have to rise, but it would have helped all those men i've been with who had to be rushed to the ER now and then. I've been bragging that it's my bedroom (or kitchen, or shower, against a tree, or back of a taxi) skills that sends them to hospital. I was even thinking of making a warning sign to men who come to my house. It took a while to get my landlord to agree to me installing this one on my door --
seeing as I'm a good citizen and considerate neighbour, what with mine being the most desired area in the city. Unlike my next door neighbour Kevin(a), who takes all her activities to the streets down below, i like to give ample warning. I emphasize on her as she reads my blog and would want to keep our nonexistent friendship going. The last time we got onto a fight on about her waste disposal habits, i found this nice note stuck on my door.
Now, threatening to take away my womanhood is bad enough threat, but given that i come from Africa where that might be viewed as a good thing - makes me more docile, they say (bastards!!) - but making me white? That is one serious threat. Which is why I'm not messing with her.
Where was I? Oh yeah - installing signs. After sending about 5 men to the ER, it's only fair that i re-consider my bedroom tactics. I'm taking a hint from my Irish friends
and working on this:
It's still on the concept stage, do not fuss about the design and balance in elements. Why Hollywood, you ask? because they are having too much over there and every one pretends that they don't know the cause of the California fires. Don't believe me? Nicole Kidman can prove it --
Also, If I'm to do one with an African theme, my good intentions will be misconstrued to mean this
and no, I'm not talking about foreign aids.Looks like i wont have to work on that sign anymore. Because i have been told that it's not my performance that has them looking for this guy --
It has come to my attention that men with failure to launch problems, who do not rise to the occasion, meaning that they bow when they should be saluting have a higher chances of getting a heart attack.
Does that mean that all those unused little workers in the sacs grow old, die and become cholesterol which is stored around the heart?hmm.
I did my duty and bought this plant for one of my 'failures' for his hospital room. It was the least i could do. If i never noticed that he was not 'up' to it, i surely must take part of the blame. I figured that if he kept it watered, seeing it rise and bloom might give him hope.
Which made me think. Does lack of sex cause heart attack too?
