Oct 122014
 

I usually write erotica for Wicked Wednesday. When the words “Bad Sex” popped up on the screen, I shook my fist at the Gods of Honesty and gave into the fact that I was about to bust out the truth on a drunk Englishman. I’ve been dying to tell this story to someone, anyway. It might as well be the pervy people who read my blog.

1. I don’t judge. I don’t count your drinks. You do you.

Here’s the quick and dirty:

The bathroom was dark. The first room I walked into was barely even lit. I couldn’t tell that he was hammered. He used scarf-like ties to secure my wrists to either side of the towel stand in the bathroom. That was a disappointment. He was known to be a heavy player. I’m a heavy player. So the fucking scarf ties were all sensual and 50 Shades. Not my thing. I didn’t think it was his thing.

I wore heels. I’m 5’5, so almost 5’9. So here I am, strapped to this towel thing, above the toilet, and he comes at me with an Hitachi. Ohhh, I’m thinking I might get something out of this after all. The Drunk Englishman proceeds to tease me with it – between my left pussy lip and my inner thigh. Hmm. This is a new technique. Maybe this is just something he likes to do. It’s not really working on me, but, Ok.

Then he gets a little grind to it. And I realize… This drunk Englishman thinks he’s in my pussy.  I don’t care how drunk you are, there is no clit on my leg. You can’t wish it. You can’t smoke anything that makes you think that it’s there.

Back to it.

So I’m trying not to laugh. And at that point, I still don’t know that’s he’s piss drunk. He’s holding his own quite well. I’m just wondering if this guy is really as bad at getting the sexy and kinky on. And he’s still grinding. What do I do? He’s NOT stopping. He’s determined to drill an orgasm out of leg. I’m trying to pull back and then squirm my pussy around ONTO the toy. NOPE, He wasn’t having it.

The ties are a joke. I’m holding on to the towel stand, hoping the ties don’t fall off. As a rule, I don’t fake orgasms, but I was debating using it as an exit strategy, considering the chafing.

2. Here’s my lesson (and thank GOD I learned it through humor and not horror.) – It’s your decision who you play with. The condition of people you play with is extremely important.

Wicked Wednesday

Oct 072014
 

A is for Aftercare:

I never felt comfortable asking for aftercare. I was of the thought that if the D-type that I played with offered aftercare, then I would gladly accept it. I never wanted to tell anyone that I needed it. I experienced the patting of arms on backs in an insincere, sideways hug. No actual comfort exchanged. A show for those who no longer noticed.

The thought of someone counting the minutes as they offered disingenuous support made me throw up a little in my mouth. Hence, I wasn’t going to ask anyone for anything. Besides, I didn’t know any aftercare etiquette. Was there aftercare etiquette? With a little research during conversations, the answer continued to remain relative to each person’s needs, and the situation.

Sometimes a fucking amazing scene can clean me out. I’ve seen myself in a mirror. My make-up is always exactly 3 inches to the right of where I originally applied it. I don’t drink water like a normal person. It dribbles down one side of my chin or another. I don’t need to sit down. I need to lay down. Hair up, off my neck. On my belly, spread out. I’m a hot mess. I didn’t need aftercare then. I needed Jesus.

Once, I stayed in suspension for almost an hour while friends were inside, partying. When I was earthbound, I couldn’t have been any more chill had I smoked the rope. The only aftercare I needed was a seat on the couch and my friends to entertain me.

That’s not to say that I’ve worked past “how to do aftercare.” I have 352 unanswered questions about aftercare. Here’s what I do know. Pre-scene, I never know if I’ll want it or not. Sorry, that’s no help. Doms that expect me to be up and off to get the cleaning materials, water for him, cleaning the furniture, we probably can’t play. Nothing against those D-types, but I want to enjoy what ever space that I’m in. That’s hard to do when you’re swallowing it, walking in one shoe towards the water table.

Oct 072014
 

TMI Tuesday – October 7, 2014

Welcome to TMI Tuesday “Memorable & Amazing”

tmi art Oct 7 2014

Memorable sex is not necessarily amazing sex, though amazing sex is certainly memorable.

Memorable: hard to forget.
Amazing: startlingly impressive.

1. Tell us your top 3 memorable and/or amazing sexual experiences thus far in 2014.

How dare you ask me to kiss suck and tell!

2. What made the encounters memorable/amazing?

Because I was in them.

3. What is memorable and amazing about you?

My tits, my big ‘ol booty, riding on that surfboard, and of course, my sense of humor. Did I say my tits?

Bonus: Which one of the things listed below should be infectious? ALL of them!
a. smiles
b. wealth
c. laughter
d. good health

TMI Tuesday blog
Oct 022014
 

He told her to grab the sides of the door frame.

The floggers came in different types and materials. Her body moved with the rhythms of the strikes. It was enticing. It was meditative. It was painfully seductive. The material and weight of the implements were changed or used in unison. He noted her gentle sway.

He approached her from behind and ran a finger down her naked, warm back. She used the door-frame to support her weight when she arched. She reminded him of a cat, stretching in the sun.

He stepped back and continued to hit her. She moaned. She panted. He went to her again and pressed tightly against her. He pulled her head back by her hair. She could feel his breath from her clavicle to her earlobe. The back of her bare legs rubbed against the roughness of his bluejeans. Her ass lifted and bumped against his cock, teasing it.

He slid his hand down the front of her shorts and panties. Two of his fingers slipped just inside her pussy lips. She felt his guttural moan.

Goddamn, girl.” His fingers dipped in juices that he didn’t expect to be there. He turned her around, giving her a good look over.

Do you need to stop?” He grinned.

She smiled back at him, “I’ll tell you when I want to stop.”

She was going to need the door-frame.

Sep 302014
 

TMI Tuesday: September 30, 2014

Welcome to another edition of TMI Tuesday. This week’s questions are from moi and Sin Doll. Feel free to tackle a single topic and share in-depth with photos (e.g. your collections) or answer some of the related questions (4 and 5 make for great discussion) or answer all questions as usual. -H

tmi discuss mike meyers

1. What do you collect?

Ehhh, I don’t really collect anything. I guess you could say “Old Southern Art,” maybe old Alabama Football memorabilia.

2. What do you do for fun?

Kink stuff. Blog. Alabama Football. Craft.

3. Name a place that’s fun for you to visit but you wouldn’t want to live there. New York

4. Do you believe in revenge?

Karma’s a bitch!

5. Do you believe in forgiveness and do you forgive and forget?

For some, very FEW. Most others, no and no.

6. Are you religious? spiritual? Atheist?

Voodoo

Bonus: What’s your routine every night just before you go to sleep?

Write or watch television until I pass out.

 

TMI Tuesday blog
Sep 282014
 

Todd and Courtney. Quarterback and Head Cheerleader. Prom King and Queen. They married out of high school without ever knowing a thing.

Todd was lucky enough to be the eldest of the Tucker Brothers. All he had to do was play it straight and his Dad’s construction company was his. He worked hard every day to support his new wife and new life. He brought home a paycheck. He was responsible. He loved Courtney, almost blindly as young love sometimes is.

“I hate touching this dead chicken!” Courtney squawked from the kitchen.

“It’s not dead, Court. It’s raw.” He chuckled a little bit.

“Oh my fucking God! I…I don’t even! Oh my God, my nails. I hate this…fatty stuff. Why is this bumpy? ….Is this flesh?!” Courtney’s hands tore away the clammy skin of the bird.

“Uhhhhhhhh!” She whined.

“I’m sure it is, babe. Chicken’s got skin on it. You can wash your hands.” Todd was trying to zone her out . His crew finished early on the job site he ran. A few of the guys were headed over to Milt’s. Todd came home, took a shower, and hit the couch for the highlights of the games he missed. He wanted a little downtime.

“I can’t wash the Sam-o-nilla off. You can’t even see that. It comes from dead chicken. I hate Sam-o-nilla! It’s probably all inside this …..FAT!” Courtney continued to cut away at the tendons.

“Sam..ohhh….what? Court, you’re not the first person to handle a chicken.” He turned the television up a few decibels. He gave into the depression of another missed opportunity to relax. All because he married a drama queen.

“I’m not ever doing this again! I hate the way it feels. It’s too hard. It’s chicken out of a can from now on. I don’t care.” Courtney went into full fake crying mode. The chicken was in a pan. The pan went into the oven with a lot of dramatic slamming.

“Hey babe?” He was moved towards the door for his boots. He slipped them on and walked into the kitchen to see her cupped hand pushing chicken fat into a plastic grocery bag. He leaned against the doorjamb and smiled when Courtney looked back at him.

“Babe? I’m gonna run over to Milt’s. I’ll be back.”

“Be back before this chicken is done. And don’t eat anything over there. You’re eating this chicken, Todd!” Courtney yelled after him.

“Hey man!” Milt was happy to see him. Todd was ushered in and offered a beer by Milt’s wife. Milt married up. He talked his old lady into walling off the dining room for his office. Milt’s “office” had hand-me down recliners and someone’s college couch. It had speakers scattered around and a television the size of half the room. The place was a dump, except for the television, and the beer. Todd loved it.

Todd was getting comfortable in one of the old recliners, settling in with a beer to watch an actual game. A few of the guys were talking about money they had on the upcoming play-offs. Everything stopped when the door opened. The room lit up with a bright white light. Milt’s wife slipped in and dropped off a tray of meats and cheeses. She refilled the ice bucket with a six-pack and took out some empties, silently. Once she left everyone began talking where they left off. Milt looked around.

“Sorry guys, she’s supposed to knock before she comes in here. I’ma have to spank her ass for that one, huh? I bet she thinks I’ll forget. Dex. Remind me or I might forget.”

The room burst out laughing, and then Dex kicked in about his own wife.

“I had to beat Karen’s butt black and blue the other night for talking back.” He shook his head back and forth.

Robert asked if either of them had ever used a switch or a paddle. Todd took this all in for about an hour. He thanked the guys for the night, Milt’s hospitality, Milt’s wife as well. He had a hard time looking her in the eye on the way out, knowing what she had coming to her.

Todd came home to find Courtney with wet hair, just out of the shower. She was in the same mood he left her in.

“That chicken was horrible. The inside wasn’t done, but the outside was white. All that work was wasted. It wasn’t even safe to eat. I hate cooking! Just so you know, I’m never touching a dead chicken again!” She didn’t have time to dress. She was still assaulting her hair with a towel. Todd reached for her waist, turned her around and bent her over his knee. He gave her ass a smack with his hand, then another, and another, stopping only to speak, then smack again.

“You hate everything!”

*SMACK*

You complain constantly!”

*SMACK*

You have a shitty attitude!”

*SMACK*

Todd realized he had to go all the way through with it.

“All of that is about to change!”

“Todd! No! Stop!” Courtney squealed and kicked her feet. Her bottom was being held hostage. It hurt. She couldn’t believe he spanked her. He stood up and pulled her face-to-face.

“You will change your bad attitude or continue getting spankings. My bet is that you’ll probably have more coming.” Todd smiled down to her.

“This isn’t fair! You’re bigger than me. It hurts my butt.” Courtney coughed up tears to go with her red bottom.

“It’s supposed to hurt, baby. It’s a punishment.” He cooed down to her.

They were silent for a moment. She nuzzled her face in his chest, pouting.

“Todd?”

“What, babe?”

“Did any of this have to do with the dead chicken?”

 

Wicked Wednesday

Sep 262014
 

Everyone says “It’s that time of year!”

What’s happening is that people are listing their favorite blogs and posts that stood out in 2014. It’s “Nomination Time.” I said that like it was fancy. Anyway, Twitter gets all all gossipy about whether one should or should not post and ask their readers to nominate them. That’s fun to watch.

Feel free to nominate the fuck out of me – that’s my opinion. I like comments on my blog. I like to know what the readers of my blog are thinking when they stop by for some nasty reads. If readers like my blog, I want to know.  How would some readers know that they could nominate bloggers for stuff like this if we didn’t tell them?

That being said… Kinkly is having their annual call for their 2014 Top Sex Bloggers. It’s quick and dirty. Click the link below and then vote on their page.

2014’s Top Sex Bloggers

If you’re wanting to do one better, you can hit up Rori’s page and nominate me there, too. Just Check out Rori’s Back!

Love,

The Sin Doll