Questions Aplenty

Though it's rather a cheap trick, I've culled questions from two different sources today, because what the hell, I might as well. That is, until some questions from readers come along. Kara and Jess provided some, Lola provided others, and they both got them from other sources. But because it's fun, once again I'll be pretending that celebrities and notables have asked me questions. There are quite a few this time.

Whitey Ford asked, "What age to you think is a good age for someone to lose their virginity?"

When they're ready. Number of years alive is a pretty poor benchmark for readiness; there are a lot of people who are probably never actually ready to have sex.

Hester Prynne asked, "Do you have any problems asking your partner for what you want in bed?"

Nope. Well, mostly nope. Sometimes. Not a lot.

Gregory Peck asked, "At what number of sexual partners does one become a slut?"

Well Greg, first let me say how much I admire your work. As far as slut goes, I'm not sure it's a number. I think you can be with thousands (yeah, no hyperbole there at all) of partners without being a slut. It's probably hard to do, but you could. I think saying that a large number of sexual partners leads you to be a slut is post hoc ergo propter hoc; the two may be related, but one doesn't follow from the other. If anything, being a slut might lead one to have more sexual partners, rather than the number making one a slut. I'm not sure. I don't particularly like the term slut anyway.

Uta Hagen asked, "On a scale from 1-10, how kinky are you?"

It depends on what you mean by "kinky." If incest isn't kinky (and I don't know that it is) I'm not all that kinky, most of the time. My level of kink goes up around certain people, but I say, baseline, maybe 4. I don't know.

Cesar Chavez asked, "Do you like to french kiss? How much tongue is too much tongue? Can you get past the "bad kissing thing" or is that a deal breaker?"

I do like to french kiss, although it's certainly not the only way to have fun. The amount of tongue is less important than the skill with which it's used. And the level of lousy kissing I'm willing to put up with has a lot to do with how far I think things will go and how desperate I am to get there. I'm not a fan of bad kisses, but I can perhaps put up with more than some.

Queen Elizabeth II asked, "A name you think is just freaking sexy!"

Bess, that's not a question. But because I like you, I'll let it slide. I think a lot of Russian names are sexy as hell, although there are some stinkers, just as with every nationality. Since you didn't ask what name I think is sexiest, I can throw a name out without worrying about ranking. I'll say Sveta. No reason for that.

Archduke Franz Ferdinand and Gavrilo Princips both asked (what are the odds of that?), "What is your lucky number?"

I don't know that I have one. Maybe e. Look it up; I'm not typing it out.

Calamity Jane asked, "Do you have a name for your partner's sexual part?"

This presupposes that I have only one partner and that he or she only has one sexual part. What, it was so hard to say, "Do you have a name for a partner's genitalia?" The answer is no; I don't give pet names to my own organs, let alone other people's. I might jokingly refer to things, but it's not an established name.

Tux the Penguin asked, "Will you deny your partner sex if you are mad at them?"

I don't simmer sexually. So either I'm mad enough that they know not to ask, or I'm not, in which case probably not. It hasn't really come up. Sure, I might deny someone sex because I'm mad at them, but that's along with all the other things I do because I'm mad at them.

Superman asked, "How many naked pictures are on your phone?"

I decoupaged hundreds of tiny pictures of my ass all over our rotary phone... oh, wait, you mean cell phone with camera. Silly. I don't have one of those.

Wonder Woman asked, "If you could change one thing about your body what would it be?"

Just one? I'd probably work on my abs some; I have a slight belly I'd like to eliminate. That's the reasonable part of me talking; the ego is screaming that she'd like bigger boobs and better skin and just everything changed so I look more like a movie star, totally unrealistic and made mostly out of airbrushing and plastic. We don't pay attention to her.

Lady Godiva asked, "What are your bed sheets like?"

Flannel. Basic. Not terribly interesting.

David Hasselhoff asked, "Would you like to have sex on the beach or have you already?"

Not recently, but I have in the past. I've even talked about it It's less fun that it would seem, but more fun than it would seem too. Sand gets into things, but it's still a lot of fun. basically, if you're already on the beach, you're going to suffer the ill effects, so you might as well have sex on the beach.

Henry Ford asked, "Do you drive an automatic or a manual?"

I learned to drive stick, but I've never owned one and I've forgotten most of what I used to know. I'm perfectly happy with an automatic.

Will Farrell asked, "What is love?"

Lady don't hurt me.

I absolutely couldn't resist.

Penn and Teller asked, "If you won a trip to Disneyland/world, whom would you take with you?"

If I only have to pick one person, I'd go with Mike because he's the most fun to have at theme parks. Sveta would be a close second, but I've never been with her to a park. Maybe I should pick her, since I've never done that with her. I don't know. But one of the two.

The Recording Industry of America asked, "When was the last time you listened to a CD?"

Getting desperate, guys? Sunday. I was in the car. I don't listen to CDs as much as I used to. That's partially because I don't have a CD player in my room any more.

Julia Child asked, "What spice/seasoning is your favorite?"

Don't make me choose, Julia. I use cumin a lot because I like it so much, but I love ginger too, and garlic, and chili pepper, and... so on and so on and so on. I have a well-stocked spice cabinet; it won't fit on a rack.

St. Dominic asked, "What is the weirdest position you have ever been in that you were sure would not work but did??"

It's funny, up until the first time I had sex standing up face to face, I was sure it wouldn't work. I figured he'd drop me and snap something. But it worked out just fine, although I have to say that I was smaller then than I am now, and some guys would have a hard time holding me up.

Sancho Panza asked, "Worst Date ever?"

That's a tough one, not because I've been on so many bad dates, but because I've been on so few. I mean, dating in general, not just bad ones. I'm not a huge dater. I've had meetings with people, and I've gone out with people, but bad dates... I just don't know. Nothing springs to mind.

Simon Bolivar asked, "If you were in a band, what kind of music would you play?"

Zydeco/klesmer fusion.

Emperor Darius II asked, "If you could have personally witnessed one historical event, which one would it be?"

It's really a choice between witnessing an event because you think being there would be cool and witnessing an event in order to be able to solve a mystery. And "historical" implies that it has to be an event from after the invention of writing, so I can't say "The Big Bang." And "witnessed" implies passive observer, rather than the ability to change history. I think I'd actually like to witness some ancient Greek drama, back when it was still half religious festival, the mystery plays. Because it'd be cool and informative. I can think of other options, but that's off-the-cuff.

David Letterman asked, "Have you ever broken anything doing the nasty?"

Dear god no. That would be horrible.

Rasputin asked, "If you could go back to school, what would you study?"

What wouldn't I study? It's less not wanting to learn things and more not wanting to be in school that keeps me from being in school. I think I might try to go full-out computer major if I went back, because it would make me more employable. But I'd love to do more music, or history, or foreign languages, or sculpture, or... so on and so on. Really, it's that I don't like school, not that I don't like learning.

Imelda Marcos asked, "If you could go to one sporting event, all expenses paid, which one would you see?"

All expenses? The Olympics, because it's the longest sporting event I can think of and I could run up one hell of a tab while it was going on. Okay, so I'm gaming the system. I might actually enjoy going to the World Cup championship game because it's likely to be in another country and I'd enjoy myself. Not that I wouldn't go to some other sporting event, but I don't care that much.

Hatshepsut asked, "Are you comfortable speaking in front of people?"

Not really. I can do all kinds of things as an actor, but public speaking freaks me out a bit.

Queen Liliuokalani asked, "Have you ever experienced an earthquake?"

I did once. It was barely a tremor, but around here, it was much talked about. I don't really remember when it was, but I remember feeling like a big truck had just driven by, and then seeing on the news that there had been a tremor. Just proof that they can happen anywhere. I was lucky I wasn't doing something sexual at the time, or I never would have noticed.

Jane Eyre asked, "What is the one sexual experience, that you haven't tried before, that you would like to experience this year?"

Well, I had "preggo sex" on my list until recently, although in fairness I actually did that first last year. Now, I guess I'm still hoping to try upside down DP. As a goal, it's fine. I'm not actively working toward it or anything though.

Okay, Finally

I'm going to just hop right in. Saturday, Pam and Kirk came to see the play and surprised me afterward, and even though I had a matinée to do the next day, plus all the attendant crap of the show closing, I went out for drinks with them.

Pam looks about as pregnant as she was last time I saw her, which is pretty amazing since it had been at least a month. She showed early but is apparently going to show the same, at least for the moment. I must have missed the unpleasant parts of the pregnancy, because other than the fact that she didn't drink and looked like she was carrying a volleyball under her dress, she was really enthusiastic.

Kirk seemed fairly enthusiastic too, which is a good sign I guess. They gushed a bit about babies, as all new parents or parents-to-be tend to. Then the topic of conversation turned to the bedroom, and they started telling me stories about how great their sex life was and how Pam just loves getting fucked now that she's pregnant and how fingering her ass while fucking her relieves cramps and constipation, and at that point I really wanted to stop them because I didn't need to know that. To each her hangup, and mine is scat.

But once I made it clear that I was definitely up for going back to their place, back to their place we went. To my surprise, Pam said she wanted to watch Kirk fuck my ass, please, and who was I to refuse a request like that, least of all from a mommy-in-training? They didn't have condoms again, so got some from my purse while Pam stripped off her dress and revealed that she was only wearing a bra and her ass is just as delicious as before. She started sucking Kirk's cock, already hard, while I pulled off my clothes and got on the bed, and then she put her hand on the small of my back while he pressed his cock into my ass slowly, excruciatingly slowly.

"You want me to finger you?" she asked. I was a little surprised, since she'd never seemed that interested in doing things to me before, but I guess she was curious. I just nodded with a grunt that wasn't at all ladylike but was pretty much unavoidable, and when her fingers sneaked into my cunt I came the first time.

He didn't last long after that; I made it through the orgasm before he pulled out and stripped the condom off, then splashed his load on my back and Pam's hand. She cleaned me off with her tongue without asking, which was nice, but she didn't do anything more than lick up the puddle on my back. Then she lay back on the bed, belly sticking up so high I could barely see her face, spread her legs, and said, "I'm ready."

"Ready for what?" was my immediate thought, but since Kirk seemed like he was settling in to watch again, I took it that my part in this was to orally pleasure her, which wasn't exactly low on my list of priorities. She didn't seem as bothered by it, although she didn't really offer much in the way of encouragement. Her pussy is still quite tight, though it seems shallower than before, possibly because the baby is taking up space. I know I spent a certain amount of time kissing her belly. I slipped fingers into her while I played with her belly button with my tongue; she's practically got an outie now. Eventually I did work my lips down to her pussy, and was just getting started on licking her clit when I felt Kirk move up behind me and press his cock into my pussy.

This was new. But not unwelcome. Not at all. I guess he couldn't wait. His hands gripped my hips and started thrusting, and I did all I could to keep up my performance on Pam while having another long orgasm on her man's cock. Then he pulled out and hustled over to her, stroking out another load onto her belly, which was just too much for me to resist, and I went back to just fingers while I licked my way up her tummy and cleaned off every swollen inch of her baby bulge.

She came on my fingers while I was still cleaning her off; I'm sort of sorry I missed it because it was much stronger than the others I'd witnessed. She couldn't really arch her back, poor dear, but she shuddered several times as her muscles clenched and released on my fingers.

"Baby, you promised," said Kirk after a moment. I wasn't sure what she'd promised. "Lexi, lie back and let Pam try."

"Do I have to?" she said, sounding supremely under-enthusiastic.

"No!" I said without waiting for his response. "No you don't. Believe me, you're fine. I'm fine. I don't need anything other than looking at you. You're just gorgeous."

"But you promised..." Kirk insisted.

"Hun, she doesn't have to," I said, somewhat sternly. "I know people offer to try things out, but it's not a race. If you want to sometime, that's okay, but maybe not tonight. All right?"

He looked disappointed, but I fixed him with a stare that said he was going to have to live with that. I don't think he's a bad guy, I just think he wants Pam to want something that she either doesn't or isn't going to for a while. She's not bi, not really. And that's fine.

She did give me a kiss, an enthusiastic kiss, with tongue, perhaps to slake his thirst, perhaps because she wanted to thank me, perhaps because, given time, she will want to eat me out. Her belly pressed against me, and I could feel the firm flesh, and I just wanted to kiss it all over again, so once she stopped kissing me and lay back, I started kissing her belly again, being a bit silly, until she giggled and squirmed, which just made it all the more pressing to keep kissing her baby. And when Kirk suggested that I try fingering her ass, I was more than happy to oblige, even more so when Kirk got between her legs and pressed his cock into her pussy. I was kissing and licking her belly with my hand under her ass, finger up inside her, feeling the pressure as he fucked her, and it was just a great sensation all around. When he reached over and slipped his finger into my ass, "to show me how it's done," I came again, just a little one.

It was funny though; after a long time, during which I'd gone from kissing her belly to suckling at her large nipples, when he finally came, he pulled out. Afterward, I asked him why, and he said that they both like to see it. It's not bad, seeing it sparkling and gooey on her pregnant tummy, but I still think creampies are better. But whatever. She was close to cumming when he came, so I shifted over and finished her off with my tongue, fingers still probing her ass. When she cums, her anus flutters. It's sexy.

Then I looked at the clock, thought, "Oh shit, I'm never going to be able to wake up tomorrow," and rather abruptly took my leave. I was almost tempted to stay the night and then just go back to the theater the next day, but I really wanted to shower and sleep in my own bed. I've been promised that they won't be strangers and that some time they'll catch me on a day when I don't have to wake up so it can go on all night. It was fun. They're neither of them terrific lovers, but Kirk is passable and Pam's pregnant, so that counts for something. And I got anal. Damn I missed it. I could have used a whole lot more, since the anal basically consisted of penetration followed by him pulling out and cumming on my back, but still, it was anal. I think the lesson there may be that anal first isn't a good idea, because it seems to get him off really quickly. Perhaps he should fuck Pam first, get out the easy cum on her. No, that's just cruel.

Tease Tuesday

And now, the complete story of all the fun this weekend...

Will not be seen so we can bring you the following TMI. From Max, indirectly from HEDONE.

1. Who would you call for bail money?

It would depend on why I needed to be bailed and where I was. For some things, I'd have to skip my parents and go for the nearest sibling, unless I was quite close to a few people I know who'd be happy to bail me out for things I wouldn't tell my parents about if at all possible. Fortunately it's never happened and I hope it never will, unless I'm jailed for some protest or other, in which case I'm sure my parents, being the liberal people they are, would bail me out. Or I'd decide to rot in jail as part of the protest. Let's hope it doesn't come to that either.

2. Your life has been threatened unless you do one of the three following things. Which would you do? Why?

1. Do a sanctioned and well-promoted strip tease at a WWE event
2. Have sex with anyone of your choosing in a full of trash garbage dumpster
3. Star in your own Girls Gone Wild video knowing that it will be distributed, for free, in your hometown.

This is a tough question. B is right out; I don't want to get in a disgusting dumpster fully-clothed. Although it would depend on the dumpster. When I was younger, my sibs and I used to go dumpster-diving after each semester when all the college kids were moving out and throwing away some fantastic stuff. I'm not sure I'd do it now though. Anyway, I'd probably do a strip-tease at a WWE event, just because I'm just not that inhibited about stripping. Not that I'd enjoy it, but I think I could get through it. The video might make life more interesting than I'd like.

3. What is your most hated chore on your household chore list?

I don't like washing other people's dishes. But I'm really not a fan of most chores.

4. Do you perform any chores in the nude? Which one(s)?

All the time. And any of them that seem like they could be performed in the nude. But it's not really a big deal; I'm naked a lot.

5. When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up? Did you turn out to do that?

I honestly can't remember. I'm pretty sure I didn't want to be what I wound up being when I was really young, but I can't remember what my first "when I grow up" job was. Hell, I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, and I'm pretty much screwed on that front.

6. One of your scars, how did you get it?

I have a scar from when a certain someone stabbed me with a pair of scissors while trying to cut my hair. In fairness, it wasn't completely her fault. It's something you'd probably never notice unless I pointed it out to you, and then you'd see it and say, "Oh dear God, how did you not die?" I was quite young at the time and it's a larger scar that you'd think.

7. What is on the walls of your bedroom?

Wallpaper. Bookshelves. A picture or two, not of anything in particular. A window.

8. Do you snore, grind your teeth, or talk in your sleep?

If I get really congested, I might snore just a little. I sometimes clench my teeth in my sleep, but I've gotten much better about that after orthodontics and a mouth guard. And I may talk in my sleep, but it's never been reported.

9. What type of music do you listen to?

All sorts. I'm beginning to find that, in my decrepitude, I listen to more music from my youth, so a lot of grunge. But that's comfort-food-type music. I listen to all kinds of things, from bluegrass to Shostakovitch, from Georgian choral music to rap. I'm pretty eclectic. That doesn't mean I like everything, not at all, but it's hard to pin a genre on the things I like.

BONUS: Buried or cremated? Why?

I actually want to be excarnated. Seriously. I'd like to be put up in a tree maybe, or possibly left out on a mountainside, and just gradually disappear, although I'd also accept being taken to international waters and dumped off the boat to feed the fish. But if those are the only two choices, I want to be cremated and have my ashes disposed of in some innocuous way, like being plowed into a field or thrown into a waterfall. However, as several people have pointed out, I'll be dead, so I guess it's not really up to me anyway. I don't want my survivors to have to spend a lot of time and effort and money on me when I'm dead though. And I'm fine with a gravesite; people need a place which can be my grave. But there doesn't actually have to be a body buried there. Again, not really my call; if my survivors want to freeze-dry me and put me in a corner so they can talk to me every morning at breakfast, I guess I'm okay with that too.

First Thing's First

The weekend was eventful. Quite eventful. But more on that later.

Today we hit a milestone. I was playfully sucking Dad's dick, because he seems to enjoy it even if nothing much seems to come of it, and I had him semi-hard, just out of flaccid but not yet something I'd call an erection. He's been having more of those sort-of-erections recently, which we've taken as a good sign.

Anyway, I'm teasing away, tickling his balls with my finger while I roll my tongue around his cock in my mouth, when suddenly he stiffened up and I felt his balls tense, and half-hard as he was, without getting any more erect, he dribbled a pool of spunk onto my tongue. We were both surprised. He said, "Jesus, did I just cum?" to which I replied with a grin, a nod, and a swallow.

He's not up to putting it inside me, simply because the physics won't cooperate, but it was his first orgasm in a long time and I made it happen. I was glowing. It wasn't a strong orgasm; if it had been dry, I'm not sure either of us would have called it an orgasm at all. But he doesn't have any issues with semen production, just with achieving the necessary stiffness. He said it felt weird, like going off half-cocked, which made me laugh and play-punch him.

I don't think my father has ever ejaculated when he wasn't completely in control and good and ready for it to boot. Certainly not with me. Maybe one day, long ago, when dinosaurs ruled the earth, in his cave somewhere, he had a wet dream or something like that, or maybe he suffered from premature ejaculation as a child and has just never told me, but this is a new experience for him. And while it's not that he's back to normal just because he was able to cum, it is important for his psyche. I hope that maybe some of the mental blocks will be blown away by this, and perhaps he'll be able to get back on the horse, so to speak.

It's also exciting because, well, it's something new for him. Don't get me wrong; my father is one of the best lovers ever, and I include all the people with whom I've never fucked in the reckoning. Seriously, he's a terrific lover. But sometimes I feel like he's just doing the same thing over and over again, and while he may enjoy it, he's stuck in a sexual rut of sorts. Now, maybe, he'll have to do some different things. We've already talked about the possibility of some prostate stimulation, to see what happens there. It's uncharted territory. And maybe, once he gets over the heebie-jeebies about perhaps never being able to have sex again, he'll discover that actually, he gets to have sex again, but in a different way, and that will be fun and exciting.

Maybe not. Who knows. I just know that I made my Daddy cum today for the first time in forever, and that makes me almost happy enough to throw off the funk I settled into because the show is over. Got hit with a big dose of post-show malaise this time for some reason. But as I said, more on that later.

Filler Because I'm Not Here

I'm not in today, and I had this filler just screaming to be used, and so you get some filler (which I got from France and she got from someone else, and so on and so on) while I'm gone. Play nice, children, and you can have a popsicle from the fridge if you like.

1. (via Angel) Where is your most sensitive spot that you did not expect to be sensitive?

Okay, so knowing about anatomy and so forth I never actually expected that the wall between my pussy and ass would be so delightfully sensitive. I don't know what it is; it's not like there are that many nerve endings there, and it's in the opposite direction from what you'd expect, but I love the sensation.

2. Do you like oral sex?

Hell yes. Give and receive, any gender.

3. Have you ever tasted someone that tasted just of the nastiest nasty ever?

I actually have. I told this story a while back.

4. drunk text me right now!

Hey, I'm drunk and I need a ride home because I don't believe in driving drunk. Can you come get me? Yeah, I write like that even when drunk, and since I don't text...

5. How many partners have you had?

Ever so much more than twenty...

6. Have you ever had your ass licked?

Yes. Not my thing, and they'd better not think they're going to come right up after and give me a big sloppy kiss.

7. Do you like anal sex?

Does the Pope shit in the woods?

8. Girls will you have sex on your period?

I will, but I feel a bit odd doing it. If my partner(s) are okay with it, then I'll deal, and lord knows I get horny during my period. But I prefer to maybe steer guys toward the rear entrance, so to speak.

9. Sex in a public place?

Of course.

10. Are you lusting after someone right now?

Just one someone?

11. drunk text me again...

Hey I texted you ten minutes ago; please come get me.

12. One word to describe your sex style.

Naughty. You expected maybe something else?

13. One word to describe your kissing style.

Friendly.

14. Shaved, trimmed or full bush?

I was full, then I trimmed because full was a bit extreme, and then I shaved because trimming was more of a pain than it was worth. But I keep hearing about lasers and how much they've improved techniques, and I'm very tempted.

15. Do you have a blogger crush?

I had one, a long time ago, but not now I don't think. I'm not sure the definition of the term though.

16. Fantasy?

I have so many. I talk about some of them regularly.

17. How do you nurse your sore crotch after being used like a punching bag?

Anyone who uses my crotch as a punching bag had better be prepared to have certain parts of their anatomy used in similar fashion, only with less restraint and more biting. If I'm sore after a long session, I'll take something or sit the next day out. I don't have any particular treatment.

18. (I'm grasping here running out of questions)....show a hot pic if you want.

19. What do you think about bondage?

A little light bondage is fine. The heavy stuff isn't something I'm into. Fantasy-wise, I'm probably a bit more extreme than I'd ever be in real life, and in real life I don't tend to go that way for pleasure. Nothing against it, just not really my scene.

20. Talking dirty hot or not?

I think most people, when they talk "dirty" are pretty silly. There have been some times when it's been sexy, but that's the exception, not the rule. Naughty or sexy talk is one thing, but "Tell me how much you like my big cock in your tight little pussy, slut!" is either insulting or silly most of the time.

21. Put a question you want to ask for next weeks 21 questions!

France asked "Which one is easier to organize for a woman... a MFM or a FFM?" and before I post my own question, I'd just like to weigh in on that and say that it's definitely a FFM. Just by nature. I think an FFM is easier to organize period.

As for my question... Does size matter to you? I know I've talked about this, but I'd be curious to hear what other people thought on that score.

Flash Fiction Friday - Cuba Libre

Havana, before Batista and the revolution, burned brightly in her mind as she swayed to the fierce thrumming of fingers on guitars, Spanish and yet not of Spain, of Cuba, of freedom and what had been. On the boat, over endless martinis sparkling for the ambitious businessmen and rum for those who were more sure of their allegiances, Javier had been the most ambitious and yet the most sure. He had played flamenco and jazz effortlessly, and had put down the guitar many times to dance with her, only to be cajoled into "just one more" by the drunken American plutocrats who didn't know samba from son.

Her memories, kissed by the sun, dissolved in a haze of scratches as the needle of her phonograph lurched in its track, the record coming to an unscheduled halt as it always did. That was where the song ended now. Javier, the boat, the sun, the freedom, all of it dead and gone. She had nothing to do now but watch the sun sink in Miami harbor and dream of Havana that was, and what might have been but now would never be.

---

I must say at the start that I am not political about Cuba at all. This is not me pouring out my longing for a free Cuba, or pining for dissidents, or what have you. It's just a story. Used to be, long ago, that one didn't have to say things like this, but now it seems safer. Please don't get offended. Thank you.

Now that that's out of the way...

This picture wasn't terribly inspiring, thus only one this week. They can't all be winners. I know the title of the picture is Casablanca, but this really spoke Caribbean to me for whatever reason. For a total and utter gringo I have a bit of experience of Cuba, entirely vicarious, for various reasons. I worked on several plays about the period surrounding the revolution. Cuban music, although I can't claim to know much about it, is also fascinating; Cuba is a real melting pot of cultures and it shows in the arts.

The picture struck me as an odd combination of old and new, vintage and modern, so I played with the idea that maybe it wasn't an old picture, but rather a memory. Which led me to consider what kind of memory it could be. It doesn't look like sex is about to happen, so the most enjoyable memories were out, but they seem like they're having a good time. A party on a yacht, perhaps. He's playing, she's dancing, there are drinks and cigarettes. But she looks a bit like she wishes he'd put down the damn guitar and come dance with her. He's not looking at her though. Lost opportunities maybe?

I've read a number of stories over the years where watches stop at important times. She keeps a watch because it stopped the second her lover died. The watch was smashed when its owner was murdered, preserving that moment. And so on. But there's no real angle for a watch here. The moment is frozen in some other way, and I'd already decided it wasn't because the picture was taken; this picture isn't a photograph. So she's dancing and thinking of this memory, and then it stops. And it struck me that a record would be perfect. I'm not sure why the scratch happened. Maybe it was totally innocent at the time and later achieved significance. Maybe the record was damaged during whatever events occurred to ruin what might have been. But for whatever reason, she has this precious record which she plays because it brings back happy memories, but the record is scratched, the memories flawed.

Anyway, enough talk about me. Let's talk about you. Yes, you. The one who hasn't ever done Flash Fiction Friday before. You read them, you enjoy them, and you think to yourself, "Gee, it seems like fun, but I don't think I could ever write something. I'm just no good at it." Pshaw, my fine fellow, pshaw I say again. You can write something. Hell, the first thing I wrote for FFF was about an elaborate sexual roleplay scenario involving vampire ants. I can only go up from there. And so can you. Seriously. Writing is good for the brain, and we all need a little fiction in our lives these days. So it's not too late. You can write something for this week's photo right now and head over to Flash Fiction headquarters and put your hat in the ring. The worst that will happen is that you write something terrible about an elaborate sexual roleplay scenario involving vampire ants.

Questions Other People Could Have Asked

It worked for Sephi to appeal to the guilt of the masses to get some questions, but I know just how hard it is to think of questions to ask. So let's pretend that these questions, which I got from Kara and Jess, were actually asked by people. In fact, I'm going to give them names.

Former Lady Sarah Ferguson asks: "What was your first job?"

Funnily enough, pretty much doing what I do now. I got a gig working backstage as a yoot, and things kind of snowballed from there.

Pope Pius XII asks: "Have you ever seen a stand up comedian?"

It's difficult to tell whether His Holiness is asking whether I've seen one live or just ever seen one at all. Have I run into a stand-up comedian on the stairs? No. Have I seen one live? Yes, although no one you'd likely know. Have I seen one on TV? Of course. I like stand-up, actually, and I'm a shockingly easy audience. I have some favorites, but I'll watch pretty much anyone who's not terrible.

Queen Noor asks: "When was the last time you played mini golf?

Ages ago. I'm not very good, and there's no course nearby. My family used to play sometimes, of an evening, but we haven't done it in a long time. Just too busy. I kind of miss that; not the game so much, but playing it together.

Ex-King Zog of Albania asks: "What was the last picture you took?"

I'm not much of a picture-taker. Quite possibly something that's made it on the site. I can't remember; I don't take pictures even monthly.

Imperatrix B'Qthaaaaa of the Crab Nebula asks: "Burnt food: yes or no?"

Again I'm not totally clear on the question, but while I have burnt things by accident, I'm not a fan of doing it or eating the results. I like a little char on things cooked over a fire or on the grill, but beyond that healthy infusion of cancer-causing carcinogens, I'm fine with food in an unburnt state.

Harry Houdini asks: "If you have a pocket full of change, what do you do with it?"

I hate change, so I remove it from my pockets as quickly as possible. If I'm in the car, I put it in the cup holder for tolls and parking meters, and if not I put it on the table with the intention of putting it in the car, but it probably never makes it there. There was a time when I saved quarters for laundry, but that time is blessedly past. And during holiday times, I sometimes deposit change in various charity buckets. Honestly, if I were a better person I'd do that more often.

Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and War, asks: "Can you touch your tongue to your nose?"

Nope. I'd never tried until I read this question. I can say conclusively that I cannot do this particular parlor trick. But I more than make up for it with other things I can do with my tongue.

Qin Shi Wang, first Emperor of China, asks: "Do you scrapbook?"

No. Never been terribly crafty like that. I used to build paper models and make rockets, but I've never scrapped-book. Not that I wouldn't try it. I mean, a lot of it seems like it would be fun. I just don't know that I'd do it for preserving mementos. I'm not big on preserving mementos.

St. Anne of the Bleeding Bodice asks: "Do you buy lottery tickets?"

No. I'm not much for gambling, and anyway lottery tickets are pretty much a sucker's bet. Me, if I'm going to gamble on something, I'd like it to at least have some element that's not pure chance.

Former President Dwight D. Eisenhower asks: "Do you prefer to be in front of the camera or behind it?"

As odd as this will seem, behind. I know I said I wasn't much for taking pictures, and I'm not, and I know it might seem contrary to my exhibitionist tendencies, but I'm actually not all that happy with most pictures of me. It's not that some of them aren't good, it's just that a lot of them (the ones you'll never ever see) aren't. The camera doesn't represent what the eye sees anyway. So I'm always the one who volunteers to take the group photo. Boudoir photography is easier for me to get into, but even then, I'm still a bit camera-shy. There's a small part of me which believes that the primitive tribespeople are right and having my picture taken steals my soul. Okay, that's weird enough for today.

There you have it, folks. I feel so honored that all these important people took time out of their busy schedules to ask me such interesting questions. But I won't forget the little people. I may step on them on the way up, but I won't forget them as I'm stepping.

All kidding aside, I'm always open for questions, and while I don't have a gadget to make those questions show up on some other website, you can use the easy method already provided by Blogger and leave me a comment, or you can email me if you want to be all private and such.

Because I've Got Nothing Better To Do

How popular/unpopular would it be if I put in some buttons to let you save your favorite look of the site, so it would keep showing that whenever you showed up instead of always randomizing? Because I've figured it out, and I'm just interested in taking a straw poll; some people really hate online persistence and cookies and so forth (okay, some people include me) but maybe since the blog is already saving at least one cookie because of the Content Warning (in capital letters no less)... Yeah, anyway, I could do it. Because I said it would be too much trouble, and then I went ahead and did it anyway. I've tested it out on my test blog (yes I have a test blog, and no there's nothing worth seeing on it) and it seemed to work fine for me. Of course, I don't want the UI to get so bloated that it takes up all the space, but I also want it to be easy to use. Hence the change from button saying "Random" to little shuffle icon. Hopefully that didn't throw everyone. More attractive but less intuitive.

I haven't been sleeping well of late (well, that's not really news, but recently it's been particularly bad) which I blame on Daylight Savings Time, or as I call it, Devil Shit-Ass Fuck You Stupid Clock Fuckity Fuck Time. I know the acronym doesn't work and I don't care. And I know that it's probably not really DST's fault, but I've got little else to blame.

This means that I've been up sometimes when Dad is heading to work, and while we haven't had a repeat performance like his first recovery erection, I've still had some nice showers with him and his magic fingers. They take me right back to growing up. I remember sitting next to him as either Sheri or Mom rode him, and he'd sneak a hand over and slip a finger up into me, moving it in time with his other partner's motions, and it was like we were all three making love. He has thick fingers, but not stubby, and being fingered by him is a gentle experience but it fills me up nicely.

Because of the show, I've been working crazy hours, which means I might be home at any time, but because of the sleep deprivation I haven't really been enjoying it. I've been watching Green Acres (I love that show and I don't care who knows it) and doodling with Javascript on the blog and noodling with design ideas for banners to add to the rotation. Playing solitaire. Rereading Treasure Island.

Sveta is having the time of her life. I know I haven't been talking about her much recently, and that's partially because talking about her reminds me of how much I miss her. But she'll be coming home soon for break. Unless she decided to go off with Ernst. Like I said, having the time of her life. She says they fuck almost every day, lucky minx. He still wears a condom every time, at least according to her, but I really wonder how long that will last because since she's not likely to get any cream at home, she might go looking for it from him. And I wouldn't blame her if she did decide to go bareback with him; they're clean, young, and perhaps, I shudder to think, in love. Okay, so I do really shudder to think it, but not really really. As I've said many times before, I would be perfectly happy for her if she found someone and had a relationship with them which took precedence. I think it would be good for her. I'd miss her terribly, but you know, set them free, etc. etc.

Selfishly, of course, I don't want her to leave me. And I hope that, should she decide to move on, she'd still be my friend (with possible benefits) and still view this house as her home and us as her family. I have no reason to believe she wouldn't. Hell, I have no reason to believe anything. We've talked, I've made it plain that, while I'd love to see her for Easter (or whenever the hell it is), she can decide whatever she wants and I won't hate her for it. Midterms come first anyway.

Beyond that, not much at the ol' manse. So, if you'd like to see the option (and it would be optional) of saving your banner and border preferences, give me a sign. If not, I won't be sad.

They Say It's Your Birthday

It's my birthday too, yeah.

Okay, so it's not my birthday. But it is a blogiversary, a blogthday, a blogibration. That's right, today, four years ago, I started this mess. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

For all those people who believe that I don't pay attention to my fans, I've changed the banner. It is now halfway between the skinny and the large. Don't compromises kick ass? But that's not all.

If you've got Javascript running (and a reasonably modern browser) I've programmed some fun. First, as you might have noticed when you arrived, the banner and the borders randomize. Maybe they randomly decided to stay the same for you; you can hit refresh if you like to try your luck again. But while you could hit refresh, you'd be much happier looking over to your right, where the poll used to sit, because I went crazy and added some bells and whistles to the bells and whistles.

Assuming you've got a browser that can cope with this sort of thing, you should see two numbers and a button which says, "Random." Click the button. Go on, I dare you. There now, wasn't that easier than hitting refresh? But the numbers are the coolest part; you can choose your banner and border (in that order) by those numbers. Go on, give it a try. See the different (16 in all) combinations. Choose your favorite. Tell me about it.

Now, if all of the above isn't working for you, I should say a few things. First, the experience should gracefully degrade, so if it doesn't work, you should still see a banner and a border, just not a random one. Second, I'm not a Javascript guru; I ginned this up in a few hours with jQuery and it's definitely not fault-tolerant; your mileage may vary. Third, if the connection is slow, it might take a moment for the changes to happen, but once you have the images cached, the changes take place much more quickly. Fourth, if you're looking at the page on a phone, I have no idea what will happen. Damn kids and your computer-phones.

It's a bit of fun. If everyone hates it, or it only works for me and no one else, or it's slowing the site way down, let me know. I just wanted to have some fun for the blogiversary party. Now, get yourself a beverage of your choice, have a slice of cake if there's one in the house, and sing along with me!

Oh, and for those who can't see the assorted banners, here you go.

This just in:

Finally, a Day Off

Mondays are the traditional theatre day off, in case anyone was wondering why they couldn't see a Broadway play on Monday. Don't lie to me; you weren't wondering that at all, were you? Anyway, while I don't always get Monday off, during shows I do because it's the way it works out.

So I couldn't sleep, and then woke up ass-early (for a day off) and crawled into bed with Dad and just cuddled with him. I wasn't particularly horny (well, any more than usual) so I just wanted to cuddle a little. I've been missing snuggles rather a lot recently; I haven't had anyone sharing my bed for too long, I guess.

The snuggles were getting more animated than could be maintained with Mom asleep next to us, so we got up and since it was still dawn outside, retreated to my bed, where the snuggles could be as animated as they wanted. It reminded me of some times when that wasn't the case; when Mari and Sheri were both sleeping in the room too, and they were asleep and I was awake, and Mike showed up wanting some late night loving. He and I were night-owls at around the same time for a long time; Mari's always been a morning person, and Sheri was so erratic as a teen that she might be asleep at any given time. Mike and I have both lost some of our ability to stay up all night, but we used to, sometimes. It was as close as we ever came to having to hide sex from the family.

He'd creep in to see if I were still up, and when he saw that I was, he'd slide into bed next to me and start running his hands all over me. We had to keep quiet because Sheri in particular is bitchy when she's awakened before she has to be (or indeed at any time; if you wake her up you get an ugly look at least, but then I shouldn't point fingers because I'm not the best person to wake up either). My bed was on the floor, which meant fewer things to squeak, but we still had to be somewhat gentle because mattresses and box springs and floorboards can still make noise during boisterous sex.

A lot of times, we'd be tired so there wasn't much danger of the sex getting too energetic anyway. We spooned a fair amount, him slipping up between my legs from behind, maybe my top leg wrapped back around him, his hands stroking my breasts or reaching down to diddle my clit. It's not a position that I love, but I certainly don't hate it either, and for slow fucking it's just fine. It can also be maintained for longer, I find. Or sometimes we'd be body to body, him on top of me between my thighs working in and out, our lips locked to keep the moans to a minimum, rolling over to put me on top, but in the same position. Often when spooning, as things got close, we'd roll so he was lying on top of me too, particularly if anal was going on.

Once, I remember, Sheri woke up, despite our attempts to keep things muffled, and glared at us for a moment, then she must have woken up enough to realize what was going on because her expression changed and she crawled out of bed and came over to join us. If I recall correctly, Mari wasn't in the room, either because she was in college at that point or because she was away, so once Sheri was up we were able to make a bit more noise. I just remember that moment of dawning realization on Sheri's face as she went from, "Who the fuck woke me up?" to "Ooh, late night sex!" We were all very tired the next day.

But that's all in the past. Today, Dad and I hopped in my bed, which was still nice and warm, and commenced pleasantly snuggling again, not really talking, both kind of tired but enjoying being together. I was on top of him, and rubbing my crotch up and down his thigh, which was very enjoyable indeed, when I realized that something was jutting into my stomach. It took me a moment to realize it because I hadn't expected it. I don't think Dad realized it either until I grinned and said, "Hey, guess who's hard?"

He was. It was great. I won't say it was the hardest he's ever been, but it was a definite erection, the first real one he's had since the unpleasantness. I quickly shifted positions and slipped him up into me, and enjoyed the hell out of that let me tell you, even though I was rushing it because I really wanted to take advantage of it while it was there. I gave him a wild kiss and rocked back on his cock a few times before it began to deflate abruptly, leaving me feeling sad and empty for a moment, until I saw on his face that he was really upset, so I kissed him again and snuggled into his chest and we just lay there for a while.

It's kind of sick to make jokes about it, but I'm sick and it's a coping mechanism. I feel like I'm toilet training a toddler; I have to act really excited about things which ordinarily wouldn't excite me. I have to say, "Wow Dad, you had a full-on stiffy this morning," and tell Mom like a proud mother myself, so she can say, "Fantastic, sorry I missed it." We're trying to keep his spirits up a little; he's been kind of depressed about the whole situation. I know he knows we're humoring him, so we do it a bit tongue-in-cheek, and he responds tongue-in-cheek too. We're coping. Humor is good.

Anyway, after a while of just lying there, holding each other, he said he was so lucky to have me, and that he certainly owed me something for my trouble, so I got an extra-long, three-orgasm workout from his tongue and fingers before he had to get up and get ready for work. I think he was late today (which is okay, since he's sort of on his own schedule) just for me. It made me feel special. And I'm hopeful that, before too long, we may get to the point where he can last more than a few seconds. He's got to stay positive so the stress doesn't cause additional, psychological problems.

In a way, even though as he's gotten older his ability to get it up multiple times has decreased, he's still a goddamn sex machine. I mean, seriously ladies, my father wears me out sometimes. So it's like suddenly the machine has exploded, and that's hard for him. No one likes to think about it, but there's a chance that even if he does get back to some capacity, it will be greatly reduced. So there's worry there. But hope too.

21 Free Associations

Stole this from Lola. Don't know where she got it from; if it's someone else, I'm sorry for not giving credit where credit is due, but my research department is on strike.

This week, we have some free association, which isn't really fair to do online because I could have done these without actually free associating. But what the hell, I'll give it a try anyway.

1. Pink: Stink (You wanted the first thing.)

2. Lolly pop: You make my heart go giddyup (Oh, it's an awful song, and I'm probably remembering it wrong.)

3. cherry on top: pretty please (I like maraschino cherries.)

4. 3: Doors Down (God help me, I hate myself for saying this; literally the first thought in my head.)

5. entertainment center: television (Yeah, nothing else popped up.)

6. spoon: The Tick (SPOON!)

7. Biology lab: Is that some kind of retriever? What color? (Because there are black labs and chocolate labs... okay, so the joke isn't good, but in was the first thing that came to mind.)

8. Wham Bam: Thank you ma'am (Come on, I can't help it.)

9. Dessert: Island (Yes, I know that desert is spelled with 1 "s." Obviously you haven't read The Pirates' Mixed-Up Voyage. You should. Great book.)

10. Rough: and tumble (I could have easily said "and ready.")

11. Hot tub: time machine (Damn it pop culture, get out of my damn brain.)

12. Sex Club: Okay, I can't really bring a word to mind because I'm too busy wondering what a sex club would look like and what you'd hit with it. Is it the club cavemen used to subdue cavewomen before intercourse? I don't know.

13. Lips: and jowls (I really don't know.)

14. floor: me (No, I'm not drunk.)

15. ice: pick (can I help it that I was just looking at Joe Esterhas' picture?)

16. naughty or nice: Santa Claus is coming to town. (It wasn't a question, it was a free association)

17. table top: Joe (I love Tom Waits.)

18. back: in black (AC/DC will rot your brain too.)

19. Ryan Reynolds (yes had to get him in): aluminum foil (Reynolds Wrap; I have no thoughts on Ryan Reynolds.)

20. Tattoo: De plane, boss, de plane! (come on, Fantasy Island?)

and

21. boobies:

Yes, I know there's only one, so it should be booby, but give me a break; I couldn't find a picture of two in the five minutes I cared to look for it that was licensed to be shared.

Flash Fiction Friday - Masks

It was like this before every time. She stood naked in the cramped bathroom, having cleansed herself, feeling the tiles beneath her feet, cool and smooth. She would never stand here again. Not after tonight.

"I am empty. I am a formless void." She repeated the words like a mantra. "I am untouchable. I will succeed." She allowed her mind to wander to the face on which she focused, hardening her eyes, burning out pity, desire, kindness. They would not see her coming.

When the time seemed right, she took the mask from the basin where she had washed it and held it to her face, as she had done every other time. With the touch of it to her skin, she felt the blood take hold. She felt the killer wake. She was ready.

---

I watched as Simone sluiced water over her skin, washing away the body paint, exposing tan flesh to my approving eye. "Good crowd tonight?" I asked, sitting on the toilet. There was nowhere else to be, really; the apartment was crowded with friends and acquaintances.

"I think I pulled a muscle," she said, grimacing as she kneaded her thigh. "Damn. Do we have to go out there?"

"Just for a bit," I said, secretly sympathizing, the porcelain, cool and smooth, warming beneath me. “It's your big night."

She climbed, dripping, from the tub and sat, despite my protests, in my lap, covering me with water. "Stay in here with me. They can wait."

When she stood and bent over the sink, warm flesh beckoning, and put on the mask from her act, I couldn't refuse.

---

She was naked and waiting, holding the mask to her face, when he entered the room. When she turned to look at him, he could see the fear in her eyes, though the mask, cool and smooth, hid all else.

He regretted for a moment that there was no hole for her mouth; the idea of fellatio between masked lips suddenly struck him, made his cock jump. But there was no time for that. With a snap of his fingers, she rushed to present herself on the bed, ass in the air, waiting for him.

His own mask was foggy with his breath, and he almost pulled it off and threw it from him, bargain be damned. But he resisted. He wanted this too much. Her father was watching, and the instructions were quite specific.

---

Three takes on masks. I wish the assignment had been about 100 words longer for the latter two, because I think they would have been less of a tease that way. I actually wrote about twice as much for the last one, but had to cut it brutally.

I might, repeat might, try my hand at something a bit longer on the blog if I have nothing much else to do here. I don't really want to get too far into fiction; others do that far better than I, and I didn't start blogging to do it. But occasionally I really wish I could go a bit longer with these. Who knows?

I have nothing much to say about any of these, shockingly. I think the first one is the clearest and fits the most easily into the space limitations, which probably means it's the worst one since I didn't really have to work at it much. The second isn't pointed; it's just a moment in time. And the third is my twisted little mind.

Sorry; I'm a bit swamped this week, brain-wise, so while I may be able to write them, I can't talk about them much. You should head over to Flash Fiction Friday and see what other stories have been told, because that's part of the beauty of the whole thing; you don't have to just read mine. The others are just as good if not better, and we're a fun group in that we seem to manage to take on the picture and phrase from a wide variety of angles, rather than all coming at it from exactly the same direction. Even when there are thematic similarities, it's still different and great and so forth. Seriously, if you're not going to write one yourself, go see the others if you haven't already.

Where the Blog Is

Just some brief things:

As you can see by the poll, opinion was divided 3:2 in favor of the skinnier banner. I know there's no way to make everyone happy (well, okay, there is, but it involves a lot of work that I just don't have time for) so I hope that going with what I'd pretty much already decided and sticking with the skinnier banner won't make everyone miserable. To the 22 people who voted for the old banner, you can get a copy of it here, and I hope that upcoming plans may salve your grief slightly.

I decided, not initially, but after I heard from enough people that it seemed like the skinny banner would walk away with the victory. Then there was a late-in-the-day push for the old banner. Perhaps I should compromise and make it slightly larger, but not back to the size it was originally. I just wanted to hear your thoughts, and what I heard, predominantly, was, "We're happy with it whichever way."

We're into the 600s, posting-wise, but as promised I am not making a big deal about it. Not until I get to 1000. However, Blogiversary is coming up, and I am going to throw a bit of a blogday party, so keep an eye out for that.

I've talked with a lot of very nice people over the past year (they know who they are) and had followers and comments and so forth from many more, and despite all my sarcasm and attempts at wit, I really do love you all and while I don't want just to do whatever you want, I don't mind knowing what you want so I can make informed decisions. If you've got questions or comments or quizzes I should take or TMIs I should fill out or whatever, please let me know because if it weren't for people letting me know, I would never have started doing some of the fun stuff I've done in the past. My office door is open.

So thanks for being around, and thanks for everyone who's linked to me in the past or said nice things about me or given suggestions or voted in the poll or just lurked, because even the silent viewers are great. I don't mind. I started out getting no comments on anything, and if everyone lurks and no one says anything, I'll probably keep going because I enjoy doing it. And if I stop liking it, no amount of commenting or linking is going to keep me here. Luckily, that doesn't seem to have happened yet.

Missionary to Mars

It's quite likely that, in the almost 4 years I've been doing this (yeah, that shocks me too, although I'm hardly the old master), I've done this topic before. I know I've said some of this before, and if I've said all of it before in some post which was premised along those lines, or if I directly contradict myself and say something different, there's nothing you can do because I'm a girl. Nya nya nya. A friend of mine used to say that, tongue in cheek I assure you. I'm just getting old and forgetful.

The topic at hand, suggested by the dapper and dandy Dan, is my favorite sexual position, missionary, and why I enjoy it so much. Because it sometimes seems odd, even to me, that missionary is my favorite. It's such a boring old position; it's the way people have been doing it since they came down from the trees and were taught how by Rae Dawn Chong (yeah, I made that joke). Everyone does it. Birds do it, bees do it, even automated fleas do it (yeah, made that joke too).

But damn it, it's my favorite, and maybe it's time to reevaluate the old tried and true. I'm not saying that it should be the only position in which to make love; far from it. Only having missionary sex is just as wacky as only having doggy-style sex, only with different baggage. And I know, there are people who feel that missionary is unfairly biased in power relationships; the man is on top and does the control, the woman lies back and takes it. But the same can be said for other positions.

That still leaves me with why I like it best. It's not ideal for some things; anal in particular is harder. But when it comes to sex, especially with someone I love, I love it. Understand that I'm talking about all species of missionary. If you're the sort of person who follows the Kama Sutra, there are all kinds of different positions which resemble missionary in some aspects. I'm talking about a position where the man is on top, the woman is underneath, and most likely her legs are spread and he's between her thighs. Where the legs and arms go after that is immaterial.

First off, while missionary isn't good for the G-spot, the G-spot isn't everything, despite what its advocates might say. Missionary does a fine job on my clit, and it also presses the penetration down into the back of my cunt, which is a much-underused erogenous zone, at least for me. And I don't know about the rest of the world, but my vagina seems to curve in a way which makes the penetration the easiest in missionary; the cock thrusts up into me nicely.

Then there are the less tangible sensations. For one, I really like feeling a body between my thighs. There's just warmth there that I can't get from a body behind me. Now I could do cowgirl, but... well, I also like being underneath. Looking up at him, seeing him look down at me. Maybe it's a touch of submissive in me. And when he lets his body down so it's pressing against me, that's the most contact with a person's skin I think I can have. My legs wrap around, my arms, his arms around me, his hips to mine, my breasts pressed to his chest, our lips locked, and there's really not a whole lot closer you can get to someone.

I just feel a connection. Not always; I can have random anonymous missionary sex and feel nothing much other than contact, but with someone I love, there's just nothing like everything locked together. Even eyes locked. It's like being one with someone else. And I just can't get that in any other position. I'm not bashing the other positions, or people who may get that connection through them, but for me, missionary is the best for that.

Men sometimes talk about how they like to watch a woman cum. Well I like to watch a man cum while he's on top of me. If I had to get a creampie in any position, it would be missionary, because I can see that moment, when everything is stripped away and he's cumming into me. It's the most intimate moment, I think, or maybe just one of several, because I also like to watch his eyes as he enters me the first time. And sometimes there's a feedback loop, being so close, so his pleasure is mine and mine is his.

All of this could probably apply to good sex in any position, I know. And I've had great times that didn't include missionary, or didn't end with it. But it's still my favorite. With women too; Sveta and I have gotten good at strapons or double dildos or just tribbing while face to face, because it just is so wonderful to be in that position, no matter who's on top. Just wrapped in each other's arms. I don't think you can get any closer.

That, at any rate, is what I'm thinking at the moment. I reserve the right to change my mind, because by God that's what life is for: changing my mind. Thanks for the inspiration, Dan. To the rest of you, keep those questions or just thoughts coming.

TMI Wednesday

Because I'm always late and because I never see these things until after it's too late to do anything about them. Originally from Hedone, via Max who brought it to my attention.

1. How old are you?

Twenty-something, as it says on my bio, although I'll admit that I'm more rapidly approaching a time when that will no longer be true than I'd like. Yeah, feeling a bit aging some days. My knees, though, are 187 years old next week.

2. What's your favorite color?

I like black, red, purple, and hell even pink sometimes. I like rich, deep colors; never been a fan of pastel. Dark colors really accentuate features I like in myself.

3. First car you ever had sex in?

A VW of some kind. What do you want? I'm a girl.

4. Favorite rated R movie?

R-Rated is the more popular way of saying this. Let's see, Twelve Monkeys and Ronin are both rated R. I like them. Pretty sure Monty Python and the Holy Grail is rated R too. That's three off the top of my head.

5. Favorite flavor of Popsicle

Lime. If watermelon were a reasonable option I'd go for that, but it's not. I've only had watermelon once. So since lime can be had, I'll go for that.

6. Banana or apple?

I don't like apples much. I guess banana.

7. Favorite Jersey shore character?

I find myself echoing Max here, except I'm going to get even more topical and say whichever one kills the show by pulling a Charley Sheen. Bam.

8. Are your nails painted and if so what color?

Not currently. Occasionally I'll paint them, which is why you might see my nails done in pictures (if you were looking closely). I went through a phase of painting them constantly, but now they just get ruined at work.

9. Favorite animal?

I like cats of all kinds, from tigers to kittens. I guess they're my favorite animal. But I like animals in general quite a bit, so it's a tough call.

10. If you could bang a Disney character who would it be?

So many to choose from. So many I've thought about. I have had sex to so many Disney movies it ain't even funny. Not because I'm some kind of Disney-loving freak or anything, just because they happened to be on when the urge struck. I've talked about this before. Maybe Ariel? I don't know; it's really a tough choice to have to make.

11. What time is bed time?

Whenever I'm in bed.

12. Do you have kids?

No. Shut up, biological clock.

13. Last time you bought a toilet brush?

A long time ago, when I lived somewhere else. It's not that I wouldn't buy one now, but I just haven't.

14. Double penetration (come on I had to get one in)

That's not a question. No, seriously, it's not. That's like asking me, "Oxygen?" or "Autonomic nervous system?"

15. Bubble bath or long hot shower?

Tough call. I like showers for cleanliness; baths don't usually make me feel clean. But when joined by another interested party, baths are lots of fun.

16. Can you speak a foreign language?

I can swear in several. I know POW German, elementary French (but I've forgotten most of that), very basic Russian (but I'm working on that) and a smattering of a few other languages. Nothing impressive.

17. Describe yourself in 2 words?

Naughty girly. That should be obvious.

18. How many tattoos do you have if any?

None. I might one day get one, but I'm scared of needles and hepatitis.

19. How do you like your eggs?

It depends on what I'm eating with them. Sometimes I like them scrambled, and I do mean scrambled eggs. Sometimes I like an omelet, which I'm not so good at making; mine taste just fine, but they don't look pretty. Sometimes I want a fried egg, and I can actually do decent fried eggs too; I like the yolks runny, so generally sunny-side-up. And sometimes I want a hard-boiled egg, which I have a complicated procedure to produce stolen from Julia Child, but which produces perfect hard-boiled eggs. I don't use it often.

20. How do you get rid of a hickey...I need to know.

I've heard all sorts of things; the one I like best is not getting one in the first place.

21. Favorite color to wear.

Black or dark red or purple. I wear things of other colors all the time, but I find myself in black often enough. It goes with everything and it makes my hair pop.

Present, Tense

I came home today from work feeling incredibly horny. Just exploding with horny. Like ten pounds of horny in a five pound sack. Yeah, I was horny. How horny was I? I wish I could come up with a suitable Rodney Dangerfield joke about horniness here, but I'm too damn horny. I tell ya, I was hornier than a Catherine the Great on stable-cleaning day. Horny!

I couldn't do anything about it right away; I had to deal with dinner and then decompress. But I'm now going to do the only thing I have, which is to pick out a couple of toys and have fun with them, because fingers ain't gonna do it today. And since I have sweet fuck all to write about, I thought I might share a bit of the sensations.

First off, I'm holding up one of my more aggressive vibrators to my nipples. I can't use this one on my clit most days; too sensitive. But it's working just fine on the girls. I like how the vibration jars the nerve endings in the nipple itself, but carries on into the breast and even into the ribs. It's like a combination of nipple play and a massage, both of which I enjoy individually. I could use a massage. Yeah, this is probably going to be a bit stream-of-consciousness-y, so if that bothers you, better leave now.

I should explain that I'm typing as I go, but not necessarily as it happens; I can't type particularly well with one hand at the best of times. So I'm typing and playing and typing and playing, and then I'll probably edit a bit to catch typos and totally off-the-wall shit. I'm not used to doing this. We'll see how it goes.

Sometimes I use oil with vibes on my nipples. It doesn't really improve the sensation of the vibe, but it improves the sensation of moving the vibe all around. Today though, I'm just sticking with the plain vibe. I don't really want to clean up after, not too much. There's a bit more abrasion this way, so I don't move as often, but I can put the vibe on the underside of the nipple and kind of roll it around.

But enough of foreplay. I also brought my newest buttplug, which I bought the last time I really, really wished I had a cock to fuck my ass. Sometime last year, I believe. I'd never owned a glass plug before. The trick, I find, is to warm it up first; it gets fucking cold in the winter, and cold glass in the derrière is only fun if you're into that kind of thing. A few times it's been borderline and I've been in a hurry, so I've just stuck it in and felt the slow warming sensation, but today, too damn cold. I ran it under scalding hot water for a while until it warmed up.

Okay, here goes. It's not huge; I don't really believe in giant toys in the back door. It gets a little thicker than your average cock right before the dip at the base, which feels just... no, wait, getting ahead of myself. A little lube on it; I'm using extra-virgin olive oil, actually. I know, I know, but I like it for various reasons. Your mileage my vary. Anyway, the sheen of just a little oil on the purple glass (yeah, I like purple) is very pretty, but I won't be looking at it long.

I can type while sitting back on it. I'm teasing myself a little, sitting down on it so it pops in but only the top, then backing off. It's not like a cock at all, but it's a wonderful sensation nonetheless, and if you've been looking to try out anal (boys or girls) I recommend toys as a starting point highly. The spreading of my ass cheeks is a fun sensation too, which you don't usually get with a cock, since aim is important there.

Okay, like I was saying, the widest part is just wider than your average cock, and there's this great moment of tension as I get right up to it, like I'm not going to make it all the way. I love that about a plug like this; I know I can take it, but there's still that delicious moment where I feel like, "Oh shit, I'm going too far." And then the release as the whole thing pops in and the base is pressing against my butt, the wide part still stretching but inside now. I'm just going to sit for a few minutes and enjoy the full feeling. Maybe trying adjusting my posture a little so different areas take pressure. Sitting on a rigid plug, as opposed to a softer one, is harder; there's a lot more pressure.

I can feel a little spasm in my ass. Wondering if maybe I shouldn't have gone so ambitious. It's been longer than I wanted since I had something in my ass, and maybe I should have worked back into rhythm. I'm just going to take it slow and let it in for a while. I'm actually kind of thrilled; shows my ass is still tight. I try to keep trim. Anal is great, but you do have to be careful otherwise you'll wind up carrying a colostomy bag. That, at any rate, is what the naysayers are fond of saying, and there's a small part of my brain which listens. I don't know; I've never had any trouble, but maybe there's truth to it and I've been lucky.

Okay, my pussy is positively dripping, and having to break off to write is just winding me up mercilessly. I think before I try anything fancy, I'm going to get myself off. Excuse me for a moment.

That was nice. A simple one, just fingers on my joy buzzer, but with the added tightness of the plug the sensations were brought to the fore. The spasm came back in my ass as I came, and I felt a bit like I was going to somehow defy physics and anatomy and shoot the plug out of my ass, through the chair, and shatter it in a million pieces on the floor. I believe the term of art is peristalsis, but whatever it was, it was fighting all the way, and while at first for the newcomer that might sound unpleasant (and indeed until you get the hang of it it probably is unpleasant) I enjoy it immensely. Cumming with anal penetration is the next step up from just anal; some people never get any of it, and some people never experience the orgasm in their asses, but lucky me I guess.

I believe I may have whimpered a bit too, if that's your bag. I'm usually not terribly vocal during masturbation, but I was just so keyed up. Not the most intense orgasm ever, but perfectly decent. I'm terrible at describing the actual physical sensation of orgasm; this one was mostly in my belly and hips; it didn't shoot up my spine or down my legs, which sometimes happens. I don't think any of these things really happen, of course, but the feelings do.

Okay, having stabilized and still wanting more, time to pull out the big guns. I've got my favorite black dildo, 10 inches but not too wide, and I'm going to spread my legs a bit and feed him into my pussy and see what happens. He's not anatomical, really; basically just a shaft with the indication of a head. Quite firm, and ten inches is really false advertising because you have to use the bottom two or so as a handle. But anyway, I don't really want to be stuffed. I'm just looking for something inside me.

Latex or rubber or whatever it is doesn't feel like flesh. For one thing, I find that I need lube with toys more than I do with cocks. In this case though, personal production was more than sufficient. I am not now nor have I ever been a squirter, but I can ruin sheets. I just rubbed him around, got his head all nice and juicy, and now he's a few inches in. Dildos really don't give me the sensation of penetration that I crave; if they did... well, maybe nothing would change, but on the other hand I might just become a lesbian, because if I could get from rubber what I want from a cock... but the point is moot, since I can't. I feel full, but the feeling isn't connected to anything, and the warmth and give is different. I would imagine that fake pussies probably feel the same way to guys. Sure, it can get you off, but it's not the same. Maybe not.

Okay, I'm twisting him in. I like to do that sometimes, and it's something that's hard to do with a cock. I can really do it with my corkscrew dildo (and here as well) but as I mention in those posts, it's hard to do that to myself. This way I just ease in while twisting, which produces a nice tension in all directions. If you've never turned a dildo (it's got to be large enough for you to feel it) while inserting, I recommend trying it. I enjoy it, and if someone would invent a way for sex to take place while rotating... no, wait, I think someone has, and it looks damned uncomfortable.

Anyway, I've got the dildo in as far as I'm interested in going this evening, and the pressure between dildo and plug is very nice. I had another tickle of an O on the way to full insertion; it was really just a shiver, maybe not even what some people would qualify as an orgasm. But if a sudden shiver comes straight out of my cunt while I'm doing things like this, I'll qualify it. What the Hell; it's not like it's the only O I ever have.

And now, for the coup de grace, a very, very gentle vibe egg, which I will be holding on my clit. And what the Hell, mess be damned, I'm going to lube up a bit. I like this vibe for this purpose because it doesn't seem to stay in one place. It's somewhat slower and feels like a tongue moving around on my clit, rather than a jackhammer trying to bore into my pelvis. Not that it's better than a tongue, but for the solo, it'll suffice. A little oil, careful not to get too messy, and now...

There follows a short interval of purring noises, punctuated by sharp gasps.

I really, really wish I could wire my brain up so you could feel what I just felt, because it was very nice and difficult to describe. It felt like the orgasm, when it came, was actually originating from between my pussy and ass, which, as I've mentioned numerous times, is a real erogenous zone for me. DP doesn't always give me an O like that, but combining DP and clit stim (which is harder than it should be when the DP is cocks rather than toys) seems to be a good way to attempt it.

I'm glad now I put down a towel. I would have ruined the computer chair, or at least had to mop up. Again, had Sveta undergone what I just did, she would have been gushing. Me, I... well, not to put too fine a point on it, but I think I drool a bit. Not when being fucked though; the in-out of a cock keeps the drool down. But when there's no movement to the penetration, it's a bit like holding something tasty between your teeth.

I could continue, and probably will, but I can't continue typing at the same time. I'd like to try to have another in a more private setting, with more comfort involved. So I'm calling a halt to this little experiential experiment and heading to more comfortable surroundings. Hope you enjoyed the attempt, and if you've got any suggestions, let me know.

Flash Fiction Friday - Clean

She stood above him, looking down at his naked body in the water with an expression that bespoke either panic or eagerness. "Are you sure?" he asked warily.

"Yes. Yes I am." And she removed her clothing quickly, as if jumping into very cold water. It was tough, she knew, but the decision had to be made.

Soon he was enveloped in warmth as she slipped down over him, the warmth of her body making the water seem chilled. She rocked on him, causing waves, splashes of moisture running down her hips. She smiled, eyes wide with pleasure. "I told you the tub was big enough for two. Let's buy this model." The salesman nodded and rang them up.

---

He had come back to her broken and bleeding and clinging to life. Even after convalescing he still wasn't whole, the injuries sapping his strength, scarring him where she could not reach to heal. She was a nurse, a healer, yet he seemed beyond her abilities.

Each day she bathed him, gently washing the body that seemed healed and yet was not. Each day she kissed each puckered scar she could find, cursed herself for being unable to kiss them all. Each day he grew more distant. Each day she grew more desperate.

Enveloped in warmth, she held him close and prayed, but he had never really left. He was still there on the field where he had fallen.

---

Two of radically different tones this week. The first because I don't think you should have to buy things without trying them out first. The second because I got all morbid and depressed-like.

Not much to talk about in the first one. I just liked the idea. I think housewares stores should employ models to fuck in their bathtubs and showers, just to demonstrate. I know I'd enjoy going into stores like that even more if they did; I could stop in for lumber and catch a quick show. Yes, I spend a fair amount of time in Home Depot and such. And I like tools. Not very girly, I know.

The second... well, it doesn't match the picture particularly well, actually, since the folks in the picture seem to be having a good time. Maybe it's a memory of happier times. If I'd had more space, I could have better incorporated it, perhaps. As it is, I ran out before I even could incorporate a reduced version, so basically you get 119 words which start something, or perhaps end something. I have nothing but respect and sympathy for people who can have loved ones come back from war or accident injured in a way which changes them, not just physically, and yet can go on loving, go on being supportive, just go on. It's not about soldiers; it's about dealing with trauma whatever the cause. I don't know that I'd have the strength. I hope I never have to find out, honestly.

Anyway, I wasn't sure I'd have the mental capacity to write much of anything this week, because my brain is mush, so if these are kind of mushy, that's why. Stop by Flash Fiction Friday and contribute your own mush or at least read the other ones, since they'll doubtless be excellent. I'll make rounds at some point myself. Let's hope for lots of wet sex, because bathtub sex is good sex.

TMI Too Late

It's Wednesday now, or thereabouts, so I'm late, but I don't care. I tracked down what I believe to be the origin of this particular series of questions, but Max and Lola were where I saw it first, and I thought, what the hell, I've answered strange questions for less. I'm not really playing, just stealing; maybe next week I'll play and not lurk. Who knows. There's a limit to the amount of rounds-making I can do.

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?

I have no idea. I don't look in the mirror that often. I know, it seems odd, but I don't. Probably, "Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?" or possible, "Damn, still not the fairest of them all." Okay, kidding. Seriously, probably, "Mgmfbgm." Or, "Blargle." It would have been in the morning.

2. If you could take a class for fun right now, what would you take?

Russian. I am trying to learn the language, but a class might help. Of course, I just don't have the time to learn it whether in class or not, and my memorization has suffered recently. It's a beautiful language, and I currently speak just enough to inform people that I speak very poorly and they should probably treat me like an idiot child. That's something, I guess.

3. What did the last text message you received on your mobile/cell phone say?

Done this one before. I do not text, for I have no way of so doing.

4. What was the last song you listened to?

No idea. Something on the radio of which I don't know the name or the artist. Obviously it didn't stick with me.

5. What was the last song you sang or hummed (cuz it's stuck in your head)?

The last song I sang was an old spiritual because that's how weird I am; I wander around work singing spirituals. In my head, I currently have a really tedious Green Day song about knowing your enemy on continuous loop. I don't know where it came from, and I hope it goes back there sharpish. Ooh, it's the all-Green-Day medley now: I wanna be a minority and know my enemy on holiday from the boulevard of broken dreams, and I'm hitching a ride to paradise. How alarming is it that I was able to spit out that series of things without really even thinking about it. I don't even like Green Day.

6. First thing you wash in the shower?

I generally begin with my hair so the shampoo has as long as possible to stay in. Sometimes I even leave off rinsing it out until after I've shaved. The longer the better.

7. When was the last time you masturbated in the shower?

Not this morning, but recently. It depends on the amount of time I have. I like fingering myself in the warmth when my morning hasn't gotten off to a good start, but that's usually when I don't have the time to do it. I don't usually spend a whole lot of time on it, but a quickie O is still an O. It gets the blood flowing. That's, of course, when I don't have someone with whom to shower.

8. What color is your couch?

We have several. They're all patterned. No leather; leather sticks to skin. I don't care how often I hear it; I never believe people when they say they enjoyed fucking on a leather couch. Sticky leather combined with warm bodies... yuck. We put things over the upholstery anyway because we don't want to damage it.

9. Have you had sex on your couch?

As if the previous answer didn't let on, yes, all the damn time. We have to clean our throws regularly.

Non-Sexy Time

Perhaps you're wondering why meaningful updates have gone out the window. Perhaps you're sitting there thinking to yourself, "Jeez Louise, if I had the exciting life that Lexi seems to have, I'd have so many blog posts to make that I'd have to limit myself to three or four a day, just so I'd have the time to fit in some of that excitement. What the hell is wrong with that girl? She should be posting more."

Perhaps not.

Either way, things wax and wane for me as for everyone else, and occasionally there are periods where either nothing is happening worth reporting, or nothing is happening at all, or too much is happening, or too much not worth reporting is happening to give me time to report anything that was worth reporting, or tragical historical pastoral comical. Speak the speech, I pray you, like a dead ox that hath lain too long i' the sun.

Wait, hang on a minute. Get out of here, you Shakespearian thespians! Go on, scat! You're not even saying the lines right!

Okay, there we go. Anyway, at the moment I am hard up for time and for things to talk about, not necessarily in that order. The time can be explained by work, and the things to talk about can be explained in a slightly longer manner, and it's gotten to the point where it needs to be explained because otherwise it just seems like I'm holding back vital information when really I'm not.

I am not getting my regular sex. Or even much irregular. This is due to a condition which can be most accurately described as paternal inability and fraternal unavailability. Accurate, but not helpful. I don't really want to talk about it overly much, but in fairness I must.

My dad had a health issue last month, the culmination of a number of things, which has left him sadly unable to do much by way of erection. We're hopeful that, with treatment and practice, this situation will improve, but at the moment he's out of action, and unfortunately medication is not an option. It's a circulatory thing. Don't ask me; I'm not a doctor. Anyway, just to prove to all the doubters out there, I love him just as much if not more, and should the horrible possibility happen and he never be able to regain his vigor, I wouldn't stop loving him. We have tender moments, and in the spirit of recuperation both Mom and I have engaged in spirited attempts at revivification of the flaccid, but thus far while he's been able to achieve momentary stiffness, of the half-staff nature, nothing which could be maintained. It seems like it's getting better though.

My family's bond doesn't depend on sex, but sex strengthens it I think, so we've been a bit testy at times. Dad feels like he's letting me down, which I try to tell him he's not, but to tell the honest truth (and why not) I really, really miss having him inside me, to the point where I do feel a bit let down, even if I don't blame him for it. I'm not perfect.

This is not me being sob-y at all either; he recovered from his medical complications, and at the moment there's no reason to believe that he won't recover his former mojo. He's not in danger. We're happy to have him here. And it does mean that I've been getting a lot more from him in an odd way; it used to be that once a day would be the limit, but now that it's mostly about me (and I feel selfish about that) I've been getting shorter encounters at an increased rate. I spend a bit of time doing my best to liven him up, but I think the lack of ability is really driving him as nuts as it's driving me; it's hard to go from once a day to nothing at all, and my father is a man who enjoys sex a lot.

So I've been getting plenty of orgasms. Dad is really getting back into eating me out, something which we almost never bothered with much before; he lasts so long typically that I just want to spend as much time as possible being penetrated, without worrying that I won't get mine. I always get mine. Now, he's falling back in love with my taste and smell, or so he says. There have been a few days, lucky days when no one had to be anywhere (something that seems not to happen all that often these days) when Mom would work on his cock while he ate me out until I was gasping for air.

But despite having plenty of orgasms and plenty of what could definitely be called sex, I miss penetration. I'm just a gal who needs to be filled with a cock, often. I think the last time I had a cock was when I visited Sveta in college. Oh lord, and don't get me started on Sveta; Dad is really worried that she'll freak out about this, even though she knows and hasn't freaked out yet. I don't know why she would. But I think Dad's just projecting his anxiety or something.

Anyway, as horrible and selfish as it is of me, I need penetration. I can get by with just orgasms, but at a certain point my brain begins to deteriorate. So right now I'm engaged in an experiment to see if I can deal with months of no penetration. I can do it for anal, and have, but none at all will be tough.

I'm really not telling you all any of this for sympathy purposes; it just has gotten to the point where I really needed to clear up the situation so I'd stop hinting obliquely at it. Dad is fine, I'm fine (if a bit cock-crazier than usual), and I am confident that things will return to, if not normal, at least close enough to pass muster without worrying. These things happen. I know I'm not the only one, and I know people who suffer from various forms of impotence (or whatever the correct term is; like I said, not a doctor) who manage to deal with it. It's life. Just thought you should know.

While I'm giving status updates, to save from having to make another filler post of status:

Mike is working at some menial job he hates and can't get time off from, but it's better than nothing. Last I heard, he was trying to nail a waitress. I had hoped to see him over Easter because that was my closest hope for someone with a cock who knows how to use it, but I'm not hoping much because it doesn't seem likely.

Sveta, on the other hand, will doubtless be here for some kind of spring break, Easter or not. I told her, as a joke, that she should bring Ernst and they could both stay at my house. She laughed. To tell the truth, I'd rather she didn't; despite needing a hot beef injection, I'd rather have some alone time with her. Talking would be nice, as would other things we do when alone.

Sheri is being an idiot. I'm currently in a drawn-out cold war with her. I love her, but sometimes she drives me nuts. I won't go into it; too much drama already in this post. The one positive is that makeup sex is always nice.

Mari is really hoping that more states will pass gay marriage bills, as should we all, but she has a more immediate reason for hoping. She refuses to take sides in the cold war. Thus, I hate her too. No, only kidding. I just treat her like Switzerland and try to get her to give me gold.

The blog is coming up on the anniversary again, and I have something a little exciting planned, nothing major. The banner appears to be coming down 2:1 in favor of the skinnier banner; keep voting, although while I probably shouldn't tell you this I've already made up my mind, unless there's a huge groundswell for one option or the other.

I'm still not doing Formspring, mostly because they won't let you ask the right questions. But I still love questions, and you can always either comment (even off-topic; I'm not a topic-Nazi) or email me at lexinaughtygirly[AT]gmail.com if you've got one. Or if you've got quizzes. Or memes in general. I promise nothing, but I love fodder.

And lastly, I'm coming up on crazy time again at work, so if posts become slightly more scarce, I'm not throwing in the towel, I've just got a show to do. With partial nudity. Hooray!