The Wettening

The great orgasm drought of 2007 has broken!

This, unsurprisingly, pleases me mightily, as I was getting quite tetchy about my lack of libido. It first disappeared when I came down with a chest infection a few weeks ago, and as the chest infection turned into bronchitis, my libido(along with energy and appetite) disappeared completely. All that time in bed, and no desire for sex – it was a crying shame, which I buried under a tonne of reading and sleeping. Unfortunately for me, while both energy and appetite had returned by the next weekend, my libido malingered … pesky creature!

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Poly Dinner

I’m sitting at the table

with my lovers all around

Having raucous conversations

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Baby Dee Collar

I was so damned excited when my package from Libida arrived! I’d been invited to select toys I was interested in reviewing (thank you again, Petra!), but I had no idea which ones would actually arrive. So finding scissors and cutting the tape and opening the box and digging through Styrofoam packing peanuts was great fun – like my birthday come early, because I didn’t know what I would find.

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Found in Translation

Adonis, upon reading this, told me that it sounds like I’ve written about Medea. Perhaps I did. Or perhaps they words are about the lovely woman in the photographs below. Not even I know which is more true.

You tell me so much with your choice of words, but when I am with you I see so much more (and see how you share your expressions with all who see these photographs? Who will translate them so they can understand?)

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Stiletto Mistress

She’s a vision. But she’s not a goddess, not a ma’am, not someone who’s boots I should kneel and lick (although I am tempted, now, as I haven’t been for boots before). I call her mistress, tonight, but only in this room, while she wears those boots. They’re fuck-me boots, Dom-me boots, do-what-you-will-with-me boots. Her eyes gleam as bright as the leather, as she realises what she has to play with tonight.

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Libido doll

Oh where, oh where has my libido gone?

Oh where, oh where can it be?

It last was seen a full week back at dawn

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Vibrating Go Go Stick

The Vibrating Go Go Stick looks like a cool toy, which is why, when I had money to burn and was looking for a butt plug, I came home from Eroxxx with both a butt plug and, well, the Go Go Stick. I’m sure my train of thought made sense at the time: I like being tickled, and I like being vibrated. What a funky concept, being able to do both.

Here’s the thing though. No. Just … don’t buy this toy. If you want to be tickled, get a tickler – hell, most sex shops have them on the counter in a tall pot, for $4 or $5 apiece (I should know – I have a few! And they sit on top on my computer desk in a tall pot, along with some arrows that were a Valentine’s gift, a black rose, and a couple of pretty feathers. My whole house is kinky, if you know just how to look). And if you want a wee vibrator, there are a bunch out there that do a hell of a lot better job than this one. I mean – it uses one AA battery. How strong do you expect it to be?

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Out of Whack

I have so much to share with you all, dear readers. Unfortunately, my life isn’t always happy naked fun times (although sometimes it looks like that, reading this blog). Granted, there is a lot of sex (I have a backlog to write up, after a threesome last Thursday, and D/s session with Medea on Saturday, and a threesome with different folk on Tuesday. Not to mention masturbation and trying out new toys). But it’s hard to get it all written down sometimes, with the rest of my life getting in the way.

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Ironic? Or Iconic?

My second favourite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint. ~ Erma Bombeck

I actually quite enjoy ironing. If I have a quiet afternoon or evening to myself, I’ll put some Buffy on the television (favourite seasons: three and five for plot and humour, and six for the hot Spuffy sex), fill up the iron until it’s puffing steam, and open the back door so I don’t melt from the heat. Then, well prepared, I’ll work my way through the monstrous pile of clean clothes (piled on the dedicated ‘to be ironed’ chair) until they become tidy stacks of folded pillow-slips, handkerchiefs, tea-towels; and a chair with de-creased shirts and trousers carefully laid across the back.

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Five Moments of Connection

moment one

Kneeling between Demeter’s thighs, I dip my head and smell the delicious aroma of cunt through her knickers. Grinning, I lean forward to breathe hot air through the fabric; nuzzle and lick my way up her labia and across her clit. I know that the satin of her underwear is only emphasising everything I do, and her wriggles and moans agree. Finally, raising her arse and legs and slipping her knickers off, I then wriggle myself flat on the mattress, stretch my neck forward, and slowly slip my tongue between her folds. Her umami taste is as delicious as I remember.

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