Report From the Field

We had a bit of a computer emergency last night, which interrupted my writing, and by the time it was resolved I had lost my focus. Since I resolved it, I was rewarded; Dad, even though it was way past his bedtime, took me to my room, laid me back on the bed, got between my legs, and ate me out so fervently that when I went to stand up my knees almost gave out on me.

Sometimes he toys with me, knowing that he can get me to cum fairly quickly and wanting to prolong the buildup. But this time he got a finger inside me quickly, more quickly than I was expecting which made me squeal and giggle. It wasn't rough, it was insistent. With one hand he put slow, building pressure downward, which is a trick that sometimes works and sometimes doesn't. It stretches me in a way that's different, up and down rather than side to side or just all-around stretching. That it puts pressure on my ass at the same time can also be nice. Anyway, once he had one finger in, he started licking slowly up the top of my pussy, his tongue broad, the slight roughness of it working on my labia and my clit at the same time, but slowly. I got wet in a hurry, my clit began peeking out, and that's when he gripped it at the base with his other hand and started flicking it with his tongue.

I came, hard. I don't squirt or anything, but I suddenly turned to liquid between my legs, and my hips bucked a number of times. I think he knew that I was aching for it, because he didn't stop working on me, even as I begged him to let me rest for a minute. At the time, I was sure I needed a breather, but in fact I didn't, because no sooner had I started begging to be let off with a warning than he flipped his hand around and curled his finger up, and I went off again. I didn't even notice when he shifted his other hand down and slipped a finger into me to curl down. His lips locked around my clit and kept up a slow, steady suction, while his tongue did exciting things to the head, and his fingers curled up and down at the same time and slowly petted. I won't say I came hard enough to black out, but I was twitching, and I kept cumming for a longer period of time than I have in a while.

Then he eased back on the throttle because I was blissed out to the point of being unable to appreciate the sensations, and kept one finger inside me, slowly petting the upper wall of my cunt, while he kissed his way up my belly and started suckling at my breast. I can't really describe it other than to say it was like suddenly, the pleasure which had been entirely concentrated in my lower body spread out into all parts of me, the sensations shot up and down. He rubbed his palm against my clit, and I came again quickly, not a massive O this time, just a little sigh and relaxation. Then he kissed his way back down, and slipped another finger from the same hand into me, spreading me in a way I hadn't expected, and started tonguing my clit again, which was about as swollen as I get, and though I didn't think I could stand it, sure enough, orgasm 4 crashed into me and I found myself wailing, panting, begging for more. I don't know whether orgasm 4 was followed almost immediately by orgasm 5 or whether 4 was just a long, rolling O, but either way, I was exhausted by the time I stopped and finally, firmly pushed his head away.

He went to bed and I lay there for a while in the cooling puddle, then tried to stand up as I said, finally staggering to the kitchen for a drink. I felt drained. Not a bad drained, but sated and drained.

But half an hour later, I'm sorry to say, while I wasn't sure I could physically handle it, I was horny. Horny for a cock. My penetrations have been few and far between recently, and that's tough on me. I even got out a dildo and slipped it into me just to feel something, but I didn't really masturbate, just felt penetrated for a while.

I have got to get Dad started on anal toys, because I really think they'll help, and if they help they might help him get over the part of it that's psychosomatic, preying on his mind like that. He wants to please me, but it's hard for him. That my desires are not entirely without selfish interest doesn't matter. I want him to be able to make love again.

In other news, Sveta has been over a few times since she got home, and she's working at a terrible job at the moment. We haven't had much time together, and I miss her terribly, particularly since she's been missing both me and Ernst of late. I wish I could just hold her. We're hoping that some sleepovers will be possible soon. Coming up on showtime for me, I'll need some comfort as well.

Freedom of Speech

So the Supreme Court struck down the California law prohibiting the sale of violent video games to minors because it's an issue of free speech. I'm not a hater of video games (although I do think they should perhaps be used in more moderation than they currently are, like many other things in life) but let's change around the subjects for a moment and imagine, if you would, a substitution of "sexually-oriented" for "violent."

Never happen. Because while it's okay to expose children to violence in the name of free speech, it's definitely not okay to teach them about sex in the name of them not dying of STDs or producing millions of babies for which they are ill-prepared and unwilling to care. Because sex is evil. Because sex is something that nice people don't talk about, and if they do it, it's only under duress.

I'm not in a good mood. Hence, I haven't been writing blog posts as diligently as I otherwise might. Well, that and the fact that little of interest has been going on, plus I'm kind of tied up with things unrelated to sex or blogs. I like this week's FFF challenge though, so at some point I'll make time for that. And I do actually have a post in the works, but I haven't had the energy to finish it yet.

I included the first two paragraphs so I wouldn't be doing nothing but writing an, "I can't write right now," post. I included the third paragraph so I wouldn't be doing nothing but writing an, "I hate politics and society," post. This paragraph, I included to tell you about the preceding three. I'd include a fifth paragraph which was all sexy, but... well, read paragraph three for explanation about the missing fifth paragraph. I wrote the preceding sentence to re-engineer the purpose of the third paragraph, and in doing so I managed to change this paragraph, which meant that I somehow changed a sentence I hadn't even written yet. I'm way down the rabbit hole on this one.

Flash Fiction Friday - Conjoined

Incident report: 3/17/11 16:53

Two subjects were apprehended fleeing the scene of a robbery by Officers Rattle and Hum after pursuit. Subjects were discovered in possession of one (1) experimental condom, designed by Romanticorp, the employer of both subjects. Condom described as "a true bonding experience for both partners" by developer. Subjects were not able to move at any great speed, and pursuit did not endanger pedestrians, although Officer Rattle had to disperse a crowd of onlookers. Stolen property could not be retrieved by officers at the scene. Female subject seemed to be in great distress, but it was later revealed that she was orgasming.

Officers, upon apprehending the subjects, did not immediately take them into custody because neither officer could decide the best way to separate them for transport. Officers subsequently led subjects back to police station still conjoined, where a doctor was eventually able to remove male subject from female subject by application of industrial adhesive remover. Romanticorp has been advised that further trials will be needed before product can be considered safe for the general public. Both subjects were confined to a single cell, with round-the-clock guards posted to watch for further developments. Red light was provided.

---

He called it street theatre, and I almost believed him until his pants were around his ankles and my mouth was on his cock, and by then it was too late to disbelieve. I can’t lie and say that I didn’t want it too; when the parents covered their children’s eyes and grandmothers looked disapprovingly, all I could think about was how nice it would feel when he slid into me.

The rattle and hum of traffic, the throb of my cunt, the salacious or condemnatory stares, the breeze on skin and then flesh on flesh, all of it melted away, and there in the crosswalk, before God and everyone, I let him take my clothes off, slowly, and then bend me over and press the head of his cock into me, until I felt the sharp pain inside and knew that I was a woman. Just then, the flashbulb flared, freezing that moment on celluloid, deflowered and panting for more, that instant when pain and pleasure were balanced. The traffic stopped, the pedestrians walked, and blood flowed.

---

I could cheerfully go on this week; this picture is incredibly sexy to me, just for a combination of factors. It's not real, but it has that real feeling, not constructed like art, but almost organic. The look on her face in the moment is complex; I could probably write two or three just about her face. His face too.

What are they doing? Why? I could keep going about the picture, but in the end, I have limited time and energy, so two, one goofy, one sexy. Or maybe both sexy and both a little goofy. I don't know. I'm not taking any credit for the picture, other than having included it in a bunch I sent PB; he gets all the credit for picking it.

Would I do this? I don't think so; I've done crazy shit, but never like this. We'd be arrested surely. But it's a fun fantasy to think about. Public sex is a button that I have, which I have difficulty pressing in reality (at least not any more) but have great fun pressing in fantasy. And there's something... I don't know what the right word is, possibly contrived, although that sounds negative. Something a bit like a spectacle about this. It's not just two people fucking, it's clearly being done for some purpose. I like that sometimes.

Anyway, enough gabbing; I'm back and I can't wait to read all the other takes on this picture. One of them could be yours. Don't follow my example from last week; get up off your ass and do something. Go to FFF headquarters and submit a piece for consideration. No prizes, but a lot of fun.

Panties, Always Panties

We all know by now that I have a thing about panties. I love them. I like to wear them, but I like to see them being worn perhaps even more. On women; sorry any guys who are into wearing women's underwear. Cocks destroy the line of most panties. I'd much rather you took them off and let me see what you're hiding.

Okay, I'm salivating about panties now. Where was I? Oh yes: I like panties.

I was at work today, and one of the actresses came in wearing these shorts, fairly modest really, but kind of tight, particularly when she bent over. So she sits cross-legged on the floor, and all of a sudden, two things happened: 1) I could see she was wearing what I suppose one would call a thong-kini (one of those thongs that's not quite as thin in the back) from the line, and 2) I could see up the leg of her shorts and tell that this particular thong-kini was bright pink.

I love pantie-glimpses too, if I haven't gone into that before. Not that I'm going around ogling women or positioning myself to look up their skirts, but when I catch a glimpse of a woman's panties, I get wet. It's a pervy part of me, I guess, but it's fairly harmless, and I don't stare. So sitting across from this actress, who must be Sveta's age if she's not younger, and seeing the panties winking at me like... a winky thing that I can't come up with right now, well, I was getting pretty wound up.

And then she shifted her position, which removed the panties from my vision but introduced a new wrinkle before I had time to be disappointed. I believe the vulgar argot terms it a "camel toe" (okay, so I'm not as ivory-tower as I'm making out, but it's funnier this way), but I've always felt that the epithet doesn't do the sight justice. Sure, frat boys can call it whatever they want, but to me, seeing the contours of a pubic bulge stand out under taut fabric is far, far too sexy to be associated with a spitting ruminant. The seam of her shorts was pressing between her labia, and it was clear that she has a bit of a swollen set, from the looks of it.

I couldn't stare, but I kept looking out of the corner of my eye. One advantage of being a woman and attracted to women is that most people assume I'm not ogling them, even when I am, and as I'm both polite and circumspect, I get called on it rarely if ever, and usually then it's because I'm being obvious so I will get called on it and sex will follow. Contrary to popular belief, sometimes I, for one, enjoy being politely, if intensely, eyed by someone attractive.

I was drenched. I was afraid I'd leave a wet spot in my pants (yes, pants; I was working). I almost got up, to either get away from temptation or to go to the bathroom and indulge in some quick release. But eventually she got up instead, leaving me, like a teenage boy with an erection, to cool down for a few minutes before I risked standing up. Yes, girls sometimes have to do that too. If teenage boys ever found out... well, they'd probably have even more erections, so it's probably best that they don't know.

I thought I was safe. And then another actress, also younger (the play I'm working on has a number of younger actresses) wandered in. I wouldn't ordinarily find her attractive; she's not really my physical type, picky bitch that I am. But she was wearing skin-tight pants which left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and I could almost see the color of her panties through the material. I believe two thoughts competed in my brain at this point: 1) Why does God hate me so? 2) Look at that ass!

She didn't show off; in fact, she looked very shy about wearing the pants, so a third thought entered my head quickly: 3) Poor thing, she really feels exposed. They were part of her costume, these pants, and she's not the type who wears revealing things. So I doused my internal fires and said, "Hon, we've got to get you something to wear under those."

Which led to a discussion of what was best to wear and diffused the situation, although there those damn panties and that ass were, just out of the corner of my eye, waiting to tempt me into further looking, waiting to distract me from the conversation. I was strong. I didn't ogle. I did, at a certain point, excuse myself and visit the ladies' room, where I masturbated frantically, but I tried very hard to think of other things while doing it. I thought of Sveta (no, I'm not just saying that because I know she reads this) in panties, which was a quick route to the peak. Sveta looks very nice in panties. I particularly enjoy taking them off her...

Sorry, where was I? Oh, actually, that's pretty much it. Not really a sexy story, but as rambles go, not without sex appeal.

TMI Because What Else Is There

No, actually, only kidding: the questions this week were answerable, so I decided to play along in atonement for missing FFF last week. HEDONE steers my course in this, but the actual questions are posted on the TMI blog.

1. How many states have you had sex in? How many countries? Yes, Oral counts! All sex acts– penetrative or not– are sex.

Let's see, I have to tabulate in my head. Fortunately, I haven't physically been in that many states, so it's more a matter of figuring out which states I've been in that I've had sex in. I think I answered this question once before, but my numbers might have gone up (hooray hooray). Possibly as high as 7, perhaps even 8 if fucking in a car as it travels through a state in which we didn't stop counts.

2. What do you think is the sexiest piece of clothing a man/women wears on a daily basis? e.g., bra, jeans, sundress, dress shirt, etc.

That's a tough one because it's hard to choose. I guess, in a woman, panties. I love panties, I really do. But I also love many other things women wear on a daily basis. In a man, if he's wearing a tie and no shirt, I might melt, but that's less of a daily thing. It really depends on the man; some guys wear things which look great on them but would look terrible on someone else, so general is harder. I like a man in a kilt, but that's not daily-wear unless you're in Scotland. I also like tank-top undershirts on some guys; they take their dress shirt off, and underneath is that tank top, and I just want to jump them right there. But only some guys; if a guy has a bit of a gut, I'd steer clear of tight undershirts. I like men naked.

3. Would you date yourself? Why or why not?

Probably not, in my current condition. It'd be entirely too crazy to date myself, given the way I am; one person in a relationship being screwed up is one thing, but both people being equally screwed up is another. If I didn't know myself, or if I were someone else, I might date me for a while, but depending on how far from myself I was, I might not be able to put up with me for long. I mean, the sex would be fantastic, of course, but the drama, always the drama.

That's a hard question to answer, because it presupposes a lot of other questions which haven't been asked, variables that need defining. If I were myself, I wouldn't date myself because it'd be a bit creepy, no matter how much I like myself. If I were someone else, I can't really answer the question because I'd probably want something different in a partner than I do now. It's a conundrum.

4. Which muscle do you work the hardest: brain, heart, mouth?

The brain isn't a muscle. I try to work out my brain as much as I can. My heart gets a workout whether I want it to or not. And I'm talkative, but I don't really work out my mouth, unless you mean in another, more interesting sense, in which case yes please, and then working out some other muscles if you have time.

5. Fill-in the blank: I’m a total priss when it comes to _____ .

Scat. Well, actually, I'm also a total priss when it comes to other people's food; I won't eat off other people's plates or let them eat off of mine. It's a neurosis. I can't explain it.

Bonus: Describe your darkest fantasy.

I won't go into details because of various reasons, but suffice to say that my darkest fantasies are things which I wouldn't ever actually want to experience or do. They often involve things which, in real life, would make my empathy cripple me with guilt; sometimes I feel guilty just thinking about them. But I think dark fantasy can sometimes be healthy; it helps you work out things which otherwise would fester. On the other hand, some things shouldn't arouse people. I include myself in "people." And yet they do. It's not a great situation, really. I'm not talking about things that society thinks are wrong; I'm talking things which, unless your moral compass is totally broken, you should think are wrong, and yet you fantasize about them and find yourself aroused. That happens to me sometimes. It's not an entirely pleasant feeling.

Feeling Neither Goofy Nor Sexy

I'm having a bollocks of a time with this week's FFF. Or indeed with posting in general. Because, as the title says, everyone sing it with me now: "I'm feeling neither goofy nor sexy."

You can usually count on me to feel one way or the other, or to be so stressed that I can't feel any way at all. But at the moment, although I have a few things on my plate which are keeping me reasonably busy, I'm not feeling a tremendous level of stress. I should; I have lines aplenty to learn, I have a job to continue seeking, I have another thing on the horizon and things to do concurrently with all of that. But I'm just slacking. My motor is wound way down.

I was hoping that this summer I might get a bit of time to go on some kind of vacation. Visit friends, visit Sheri, Mike; hell, in pipe-dream-mode I even thought about visiting Mari. Or just go somewhere and relax. I don't have the money to do much, but I thought if I got a week where I didn't have to be doing something else, I might consider crashing on someone's couch. Or taking Sveta somewhere. But now I'm looking ahead and seeing that it's probably unlikely, though not impossible.

I envy people with 9-to-5 jobs. I shouldn't, because there are a lot of things about them which I don't like, but the steadiness, the fact that some people don't take their work home, can plan around schedules that don't change, can wake up every morning and go to sleep every night knowing what will happen tomorrow... it's not what I expected to envy. When I was younger, I figured I'd probably envy people who were free, or famous, or rich, or something. I envy normality. I envy being middle-aged, having a pension plan, a spouse, and occasionally getting a bit of excitement in the form of saving for a week's vacation in Aruba.

I don't envy the sex life, but as I get older I wonder just how much of my sex life I'd be willing to trade for money, or consistency, or security. I know that currently few people have any of those things, but I do wonder.

I'm lucky; I have a good family who support me as I slowly creep into senescence and the prospect of working at McDonalds as a senior citizen. I have no real money worries; I can eat every day, my house isn't about to be confiscated, I have a car that I can sometimes afford to drive, and I can, on occasion, afford to eat out. If I didn't have those things I would have died a long time ago, because unlike some people whose strength and general awesomeness I envy, I am a terrible survivor. But still, I think sometimes that I'd rather be a mundane and happy than an abnormal and crazy. I don't need to define myself by being an outsider.

Except I wouldn't be happy. Hell, I'd take being what I currently am and happy at some point. But I'd also like a modest cost-of-living increase.

So, like I said, not feeling goofy, so none of the preceding was funny. And not feeling sexy, so none of the preceding was arousing. Basically, I'm feeling boring. Not bored, boring. I'm not completely sure I'm going to do FFF this week, which is what I could have said at the top and spared everyone the rambling in the center. I know I should force myself, because it's not an exercise if I only write the ones I want to write, but on the other hand it's not fun if I write things I don't like. We'll see.

Going Exploring

It's quiet in the house early in the morning. Maybe the occasional creak as someone shifts in bed, and of course the omnipresent hum of fans, but no footsteps, no words, just white noise. And suddenly I'm awake in the cocoon of quiet and wondering just what I did in a past life to deserve this.

That's how I wake up in the morning. If I sleep in, it's totally different; I wake up groggy because I have to. But if I'm up in the early morning hours, it's because I'm suddenly awake, not happy with no longer being asleep but unable to do anything about it.

I keep my eyes closed. You never know; sleep might decide to take pity on me. Besides, if I don't look, I won't know what time it is and that won't be something my mind can think about. So I'm almost asleep. Almost. I can go on telling myself that until doomsday and it won't make it true, but I tell myself that anyway.

My internal monologue has grown too complex to ignore, and that can only mean that I'm not asleep. And since I'm not asleep... well hello, mental picture. I've seen so much porn at this point that I can create nice scenes in my head sometimes, scenes which I've never seen but are amalgams of real life and fantasy and fiction. Porn isn't interactive. My brain is. And now my libido is sending out signals too, telling me to stop pretending that I'm dreaming, because if I were dreaming it wouldn't make this much sense. I'm not dreaming, therefore arousal can be tended to.

But I'm not ready to give up my pretense that maybe I'll be able to sleep again for another hour or so. So my eyes stay shut. But I shift around in bed to find a more comfortable position, and I squeeze my thighs together a little, which is a mistake because it just reaffirms my libido's central position that I'm awake and therefore I could be cumming.

My middle finger is between my lips now, and it tastes like... well, it actually doesn't taste much like anything other than morning mouth. But the point wasn't to taste my finger. My eyes are still closed, and my sensations are both dulled and heightened as I move my finger to run around my left nipple, slowly, feeling the pebbly skin around the tip, the sensations of first warmth from the finger and then chill from the evaporation. I twist experimentally with my thumb and finger, but that's too much and it threatens to knock me out of my fantasy of sleep. Returning for another dip, my finger runs over my other nipple, slowly, almost like someone else was doing it, although I can't quite fool my brain into ignoring the sensations coming from both ends of the transaction.

Then, eyes still closed, I see various exciting things in my mind, things which can't be staved off by mere nipple play, and my hand runs down over the bump of my sternum, over my belly, which momentarily awakens the bitch who tells me that I'm getting flabby because I'm not as washboard as those models on TV. I almost open my eyes and give in at that point. Stupid bitch. But I manage to maintain a feeling of disconnect from reality just long enough to quickly distract myself by slipping my hand lower still until it's resting between my legs.

Most of the time, when you see women masturbating, they're spreading their legs to give a good look at the goodies. And there's nothing wrong with that. But sometimes, I like to keep my legs closed, at least at first, slipping a finger between my thighs like I'm penetrating without penetrating, using pressure to stimulate parts while the tip of my finger strokes inward, running over my clit like somehow I've transported it into my vaginal canal, like my clit has been substituted for a G-spot. Maybe it's peculiar to me; I've never seen anyone else do it. It's a bit like being on hands and knees with knees together, which puts pressure on things, and then having someone finger you from the front, hand reaching over your ass and down. Something like that, but different. Slower than getting right to it, legs wide, fingers in the honey.

The caress of my clit has sufficiently distracted me from my inner critic, but my finger is too dry, so I'm forced to choose between chafing or readjustment. In the end, to avoid a repeat of the situation going down, I spread my legs a little so I can get lower, then gather some juice, probably more sweat than anything else, and then return to position. There's a catch in my stroke, a moment where there's a division between stroking up to my clit and then stroking above it. Sometimes masturbation is displayed as being one solid movement, a rubbing action, but when I'm stroking slowly, especially at the beginning, there's a slow movement up, a momentary pause at the height of sensation, then a slow stroke over the length. I imagine that men have the same sensation; when I suck a cock, particularly at the beginning or if I know that it'll be a long blowjob, I start slowly until my mouth is totally over the head, then I pause and concentrate on the head for a moment, then slip down until I'm stimulating the shaft as well. I'm not on the other side, so I don't know exactly when to make the transition, whereas when it's just me I know exactly when. One of the advantages of doing it myself, I guess.

It's getting too hot under the sheets, even though the morning air is somewhat chill, and I finally have to give up any pretense of going back to sleep. But I keep my eyes closed. My legs open and the breeze blows on my heated and until this moment protected pubis, which almost sets me off, then becomes too extreme a sensation, so I shield myself with my hands for a moment until the reserves of heat are built up again. Now I can stroke more purposefully, my finger encountering slightly roughened skin (I need to shave, I idly tell myself), then dipping into warm, smoothness, just the hint of a tight passage at the tip of my finger, then between the yielding folds, each pressure making me tighten and then relax, then up more quickly, lubricated and warm, and over the nub at the apex, my fingertip flicking off the head, causing a brief spasm.

Eventually I reach down with my other hand too, which had been just idly tensing and relaxing, and attempt to straddle the opening with two fingers before giving up, dipping my stroking finger into myself and keeping pressure at the base of my clit with my other hand. My cunt welcomes my finger with some reluctance; maybe it knows it's not a cock, or maybe it's not awake yet. But there's no pain, just a momentary struggle to acclimate, followed by acceptance and enjoyment, warm and firm around my finger.

It's getting close. Another finger has sneaked in, spreading me inside, although each tension and relaxation threatens the beach head. I've moved to the more-traditional rubbing, slowly at first, then faster, the images in my mind a whirl, nothing but sensation. Finally, it happens.

I've heard men describe orgasm as a balloon being inflated inside them, then released. I've described climax as a wave before. But this time, it's more like a sudden spasm of tension, until the tension becomes too great to hold and something gives and everything relaxes. There's no wave, just a sharp contraction and then release. My pussy heats up to melting point and then melts. My clit becomes tender, and my rubbing no longer feels right. My fingers move away and just cradle, keeping things warm.

And finally I open my eyes to find that it's even earlier than I'd hoped it was. Damn. It gets chilly again, but there's no point in lying down again. I get up and wrap myself in a robe and wonder when Dad will be up.

In Lieu of a Cigar

I was informed the other day that Pam had given birth to a healthy baby girl, which they did not name Lexi (I admit that there was a small, very small worry of that) although I've been told that I can be Aunt Lexi any time I want. I didn't witness the birth or even the aftermath, but yesterday I got a call from Kirk asking if I wanted to come over and see Pam and the baby in their natural environs, as they had been released from the hospital and were home now. I said yes because I'm a nice person; I should have been learning lines or something else constructive.

I'm sorry that I didn't get to take more advantage of Pam's pregnancy; I may have mentioned in the past how sexy I found her when she was pregnant. Not that she's not sexy without being pregnant, but how often do I get to share a fun evening with a preggo? But be that as it may, I wanted to meet my "niece" (particularly as I have doubts whether I'll even have any real ones) and warp her fragile baby mind as soon as possible.

She's a pip; definitely going to grow up to be a stunner (okay, so I have no idea if that's true, but you're supposed to say things like that about babies). Still quite quiet, although I'm sure that will change. And Pam looks all maternal. And Kirk seems genuinely happy to be a father, which is always a good sign, although that too may change.

After I got done holding the baby (one of the wonderful things about other people's children is that you only have to hold them for as long as you want to, and you don't have to deal with any of the other annoyances) we sat and chatted about this and that. Conversation turned to things sexual as it was bound to do, and Pam said she was incredibly horny but just couldn't do much about it. I guess she's still in the stage where sex is definitely not going to happen. Kirk said the same thing, although the girls kidded him about the fact that he could do something about it and probably was every time he went to the bathroom. It was cute how shy he got talking about masturbation around two women who've fucked him.

I admitted as I was fairly horny too, and Kirk said, "Well honey, do you mind if I help Lexi out with that?"

"I guess," she said. "It'll just make it worse for me though."

"You don't have to watch," I put in.

"You think I'm letting him fuck you and not watching?" she asked, like this was some kind of stupid question.

In the end (and I'm going to Hell but this just made it sexier) she and the baby sat next to us on the bed, the baby suckling, Pam watching. I figured that, if Kirk had been without sex for some time now, he probably wouldn't last long the first time, so before I even did more than get my blouse off, I sucked him off until he filled my mouth with cum. Then I cheekily went over and kissed Pam and passed the cum to her. She couldn't do anything about it, and after token resistance she just swallowed and then scolded me. "Jesus Lexi, the baby."

"And yet you're sitting here." She allowed as this was true, but blushed.

Kirk was hard again almost immediately; perhaps he hadn't been beating off every chance he got. I pulled off my bra and panties and lay back on the bed, but he wanted me on my hands and knees, and I didn't complain at all when I felt his cockhead pressing against my asshole. I guess, though Pam enjoys fingering, they might not do any actual anal sex, at least not yet. Kirk's anal technique is simple but effective; he keeps up pressure but doesn't force anything, and the whole time he's slowly pressing in, it's constant pressure, which is very nice although it might be harder to take if I weren't into anal. When he slipped a hand around and started stroking my dripping cunt, I came, hard. It had been too long since I got some. I made a bit of noise, and the baby started crying, so I muffled my face in the bed for a while.

Pam eventually got her calmed down and back to nursing, and I spent a bit of time looking at Pam's breasts and at the baby sucking on them. God help me it was a turn-on. I'm a terrible person. I had no interest in molesting a baby or anything, but I wished I could nurse her, just a little. Probably my biological clock telling me who's boss. In any case, the strange combination of wanting to have a baby and having a cock pressing in and out of a hole which definitely wouldn't give me a baby was a bit of a brain-fuck, but I enjoyed it.

Kirk finally pulled out, after getting me really close to another O, and came on my back, not forcefully but a lot, a real puddle. I was too busy feeling a bit cheated because I had been really close to climax, but that's the way of things sometimes. He grabbed me a towel to wipe off, and then I rolled over and started working on myself. "Not enough?" Pam asked softly. "I wish I could help."

"No, it's fine," I said. "Kirk, will you be up for three, or..."

"Give me a minute," he said. "Watching you do that helps, let me tell you."

So I let them watch as I got myself off, not terribly elegantly because I wasn't interested in putting on a show as much as I was in getting off. Kirk was stroking himself by the time I was through, and with a little encouragement from me lips and tongue, he stiffened enough to put on another condom and then lie back and let me mount him. Having him slip into my pussy was great; I need penetration more often than pretty much anything else, including possible orgasms. I think I might be able to survive longer with no orgasms than no penetration, although I wouldn't want to do either.

Pam even put her hand on my hip as I ground down on Kirk, but I was too busy cumming to care; he worked my nipples nicely, and the grinding of his pubic bone against my clit got me off again quickly, so I was feeling it all over my body, a wonderful electricity. I felt it so strongly that I didn't stop, even when Kirk said he was about to cum, and unfortunately the third ejaculation was wasted on the interior of a condom, but that didn't matter. I was still cumming as he came, and when we both finished I lay on top of him and gave him a big kiss, which we hadn't really done throughout the session. We were both hot and sweaty, so we rolled apart after a moment and just lay there and felt satisfied.

I could have gone for another, but that sort of goes without saying. But everyone else seemed to be either finished or not interested or a baby (she wasn't interested in anything but feeding and sleeping) so we chatted a bit more and then said that we'd have to do it again soon. I like them; they're easy to get along with, and they're sexually open without being completely insane about it. They seem real. I did say, and I'm not sure I should have, that I would continue rewarding Kirk if he continued to be a good father. Yeah, foot in mouth over that one, but not much I can do about it now. I will happily continue to let him fuck me if he doesn't flake out, but I probably shouldn't have said as much.

Anyway, I'm hoping that I can be the "crazy aunt" for a long time to come.

Flash Fiction Friday - Fantastic Father

"Daddy always tells me to keep cool."

I could see the sweat trickling down her face even as she sat, fidgeting, on the ice block. "I bet that suit isn't helping at all," I said, coming closer, trying to seem calm when all I really wanted to do was rip it off.

She giggled and pulled it down, exposing the flush of her skin, her fire-red pubic hair drawing my eye. The ice had melted precipitously between her legs.

"Why not sidle off that ice block and..."

"No, I can't," she said, chagrined. "If I do..."

We both knew what she meant. In the end her mouth was like a sauna, tongue like a flame, and I came hard while wishing I could have been inside her. The Human Torch's daughter might be easy, but she'd be a virgin forever.

---

I'm not entirely happy with this, but I'm also a bit pressed for inspiration this week, so I couldn't rationalize throwing away something which was rather inspired. I realized that I'd called another FFF "Flame On" earlier, so I couldn't use that title, but that title didn't apply to the Human Torch, whereas this does.

The title of the picture was "Daddy Always Tells Me To Keep Cool," which struck me as a strange title, but I decided to work it into the piece because it seemed like an interesting angle. At first, it was different, but then I realized that the best explanation I could come up with for making this girl sit on a block of ice is because her father warned her that if she got too excited, she'd burst into flame, and thus she became the daughter of the Human Torch. Who is a super hero and member of the Fantastic Four (hence the hastily-ginned-up title) for those who don't know; I'm not a fan myself, but I know the name, mostly because... well, there's this show called The Venture Brothers, and to explain would take too long, so let me sum up: Humperdinck is marry Princess Buttercup in little less than half an hour... no, wait.

In the Venture Brothers universe, there is a warped version of the Fantastic Four, and the Human Torch analogue bursts into flame if he's out of his special chamber. So basically his super power is running around screaming in pain as he burns endlessly. It's funny and horrible in equal doses. Anyway, what if this gal was like that, only she would burst into flame only under certain circumstances, so in order to forestall that eventuality her father instructed her to sit on a block of ice whenever she had boys around. There, the horse is thoroughly dead.

I would like to have written one which was a little less strange and a little more sexy. But if wishes were fishes, boring people would congregate around my head to drink and cut bait and my brain would stink of fish guts.

Speaking of things which don't stink of fish guts, Flash Fiction Friday headquarters certainly doesn't. In fact, if there's a diametric opposite of stinking of fish guts, some concept which, when it and stinking of fish guts are brought together would annihilate each other, then Flash Fiction Friday headquarters would probably be in the dictionary under that concept. Flash Fiction Friday headquarters is like antimatter to stinking of fish guts' matter. And I am the Bose-Einstein condensate in this particular metaphor. And the Internet is CERN's Large Hadron Collider. It's all fermions and muons from here anyway.

Don't try to write anything like this exegesis at home, kids; I'm an expert. The G-forces could take your head clean off.

Heat Lightning

We were outside, chastely dressed in bathing costumes because it wasn't our house. Sure, there was no one else around to see, but we had been told that under no circumstances were we to be naked, because there wasn't a fence like at our house and who knew who was watching? Never mind why we were there; that doesn't really matter much.

He was going through a phase where he liked to keep his hand inside his pants; it got to the point where Mom told him to cut it out, not because she wanted to stunt his sexual growth, just because she was sick of him wandering around with his hand in his pants. But that was later. Right now we were lying in the shade and he had his hand down there like a security blanket. The difference was that he was lazily moving it up and down, so I knew he was jacking off.

The air was oppressive, weighing down on us like there was more water than air in the atmosphere. The kind of day when being indoors wasn't an option, but being outdoors was a chore. The sprinkler on the lawn even seemed to move more slowly, as if it had caught the laziness, the inertia, of summer, and wanted nothing more than to droop and never rise again.

The shade was preferable to indoors because the air was moving, but only just, and sweat poured off of me and puddled in warm, moist pools between my breasts and legs and buttocks. My bikini wasn't modest, but it still felt like yards of fabric to soak up and store all the humidity. The lawn chair's plastic stuck to my skin every time I shifted, which wasn't often. And watching Mike slowly stroke his cock inside his shorts did nothing to help, it elevated the temperature and produced further moisture between my legs. I wished, for so many reasons, that I could tear off my bikini and find some snow, possibly with an interlude in between for mischief.

In the end, the water of the sprinkler seemed better than the slowly stagnating pools of sweat, and we moved closer to it until it was playing over us, first one then the other. Mike was still slowly masturbating, contemplatively, as if for no reason other than that it was there. I reached down and pulled my waistline away from my stomach to allow airflow beneath, which had the unforeseen (or perhaps only subconsciously-admitted) side effect of pulling the seams at the crotch tight against me, sending a message to my brain that my cunt was in need of attention. My brain replied that my cunt should shut the fuck up, because it was too damn hot to do anything like that.

"Are you as horny as I am?" I asked him, idly, in no hurry.

"Yeah, probably." We'd had each other once, quickly, before coming out earlier; quickly because the heat indoors had made it almost painful to press skin to skin.

"We could find a tree..."

"Nah, too hot for that." But the intensity of his strokes inside his pants increased slightly. I reached into my own bottoms and stroked a little too. If there had been someone watching, they would have been in no doubt as to what was going on. "We could do it in the sprinkler."

He had a point. I got up and directed the sprinkler so it was falling solely on him, its labors now ended save for the arcing of the water. Then I sat in his lap, both of us still small enough to fit in one chair. I felt his erection on my hip through the slick fabric of his swimsuit.

We couldn't get naked, but we could shift and pull things aside until his cock was pressing into me from behind, not deep because of the somewhat awkward position, but deep enough. It was too hot to fuck; we just shifted in and out, slowly, lazily, until between his penetrations and my own rubbing I came, and then he followed. Then we sat there, spent, roasting, flushed, as the water fell on us and the sun, lazy as the rest of the overheated world, sank slowly, darkness bringing no cool, only mosquitoes.

After Much Convincing

Dad is, as I may have mentioned, rather against anal play. He doesn't like giving, and he's adamant about lack of receiving. I have a feeling that he's taken a few girls in the ass in his time, but he's just not into it. That feeling pales in comparison to his feelings about any sort of working on his own ass. My father could no more be bi than I could be... um... I don't know, but something I would really, really not be.

I think this has rubbed off on Mike to a certain extent, which is why it was so hard for him to see that his desires to fool around with his own ass were natural and not something to be repressed. That Mike isn't attracted to other men isn't hard to understand; some people just aren't attracted to things. I have my own tastes, as does everyone else, and far be it for me to say that because you want something which is often given by men, you should seek out a man to give it. That's like telling a woman who likes having her cunt licked that only a woman should lick her cunt. Makes no sense. But at least Mike has the open-mindedness to see that he really would like to stick things up his ass, if I may put it in the simplest, most vulgar terms.

I know it seems rather strange to talk about a lack of open-mindedness in my family, but we all have blinders. There are probably some things I won't do which, if I gave them a chance, I might enjoy. So I'm not being a pot calling a kettle black.

But Dad is in the position of having a real reason to explore some options in the anal region. He's been told by people that exploring the joys of prostate stimulation would be good for his soul, but also for his condition. So Sveta and I took it upon ourselves to work on his inhibitions a little. I'm not the type of person to force something on someone, but in this case it was for his own good.

We started by teasing him. Well, actually, we started by being nice and trying to talk him into it. He'd made noises about possibly being interested before, but those were just noises. We said he didn't have to have any other guys involved, that we'd do all the work, that we just wanted to see if maybe it would help because we knew how much he missed being able to sink his rock-hard cock into our tiny pink pussies... okay, so maybe we started by teasing him. But the teasing accelerated to the point where we started toying with each other's asses in front of him.

Sveta has become very good at anal, probably by combination of practice with Ernst and practice with toys. Not that she was bad before, but she takes a plug like a pro now, although her ass is still tight, tighter than mine. She can't take enormous objects or anything, but she is totally relaxed and really loves the feeling.

I don't like rimjobs much; that's probably one of my blinders. But we washed off well and as I was rubbing oil into her ass with my fingers, I just had to kiss her pussy, which led to some pretty indiscriminate licking and kissing. Her ass, even totally clean, tastes slightly different from her cunt (to be expected really) but mostly just like the oil, and she was making these cute little sounds as I stuck my tongue in her ass, which just drove me crazy. Pretty soon I was fingering away at her pussy while probing her ass with my tongue until she came, and feeling her orgasm on my tongue in her ass was delightful. I pointed out to Dad afterward that I had been rather close-minded about the whole thing, that tonguing Sveta's ass had been a great experience, and maybe he should just consider... He said he'd think about it.

He finally consented to an attempt. A very small attempt. Basically, he said we could try, while blowing him, to work the perineum. No penetration. Blah blah blah, we said, but we were working toward it, and if taking it slow was how it had to be, then that's how it had to be.

He wasn't against the sensations, particularly when we both worked on him at the same time; Sveta sat on his face and had his cock in her mouth while I played with his balls and stroked as low as I could between his legs. I'm sure I was pressing on his anus sometimes and other times not, but he didn't seem to mind. But he remained somewhat tense, even though we did manage to coax a tepid erection and then a weak orgasm from him. It's not the first, but it's rare, so we felt pretty good about it.

Then Sveta had to go home. Not going to talk about that much or I'll get depressed again. My poor pussy misses her terribly, but not as much as I do; I don't miss her in the bedroom as much as I miss her being around in general. But I do miss the bedroom stuff a lot too. But she'll be back; she's probably going to be over once a week or so, and when she gets a job I'll pick her up from it sometimes, or something.

So it was just me and Dad (and Mom of course, but for the purposes of this discussion) again, and I was getting hornier and hornier, until I finally said, "Okay, look, you liked it when I was practically fingering your ass; why won't you just try it?" It wasn't tender, it was selfish, but maybe it needed to be said. I don't know.

Whatever it was, he finally said, "Okay, fine, you've worn down my resistance. Just don't expect anything."

It felt a little strange, I won't lie. I've gone through my whole life without going near my Dad's asshole. I know for a lot of you that would go without saying, but even with all the things my Dad has done with me, it's still a bit like that. Not to mention the fact that I don't have a huge amount of experience working on guys' asses. I can't say that I find them that attractive, really; it's the business end that I'm more interested in.

We went to the playroom after suitable preparations because we didn't want to get oil on anything important, and then I spent a long time just cuddling and stroking and generally getting him comfortable. It still felt weird, like I was forcing him to do this, and I didn't like that feeling. "I'm sorry," I said finally. "I don't want to make you do it. We can just keep doing what we normally do."

"No," Dad said. "You're probably right. Everyone says I should give it a shot. I want to be healthy again."

Insert jump-cut here for various reasons, and we got back to the business at hand. I started by oiling up his cock, just because it was there, then I oiled his balls and the inside of his legs, then he got on his hands and knees and I started oiling and massaging his back and buttocks, trying to get him to relax. Finally I started rubbing oil around between the cheeks. "You need to shave," I said, kidding him. He's got a relatively hairy ass, but I don't mind.

"Okay, that's where I draw the line," he said with a laugh. "Next you'll have me wearing buttless chaps and singing Macho Man."

"I think you'd look cute in chaps."

"Girly, you'd better get to it before I change my mind." He was kidding, but I knew he couldn't be that comfortable in this position.

When I pressed my finger into his ass for the first time, he flinched a little, but he's had exams before so it wasn't like he didn't know how it would feel. That is, until I reached around and stroked his cock with my other hand. As I pressed deeper, I felt his cock stiffen, and then when I started slowly stroking the walls of his ass, he developed a genuine, honest-to-god erection.

"See," I told-him-so.

"I wish I could feel your mouth on me while you do this," he said, sounding a little tense still.

So we rolled him over and I reached down between his legs and pressed my finger back into his ass, more easily this time (although I should say for the kids watching that we used an absolute overabundance of oil to make this happen), and his cock enlarged again. I kissed it and it bounced. I put my lips around it and it pulsed. It was, as Sveta would say, very nice.

Dad was clearly enjoying himself too, so while I didn't venture into two-finger territory, I did get a rhythm going between my mouth and my finger, and shortly thereafter got a violent explosion out of his fully-erect cock, which wasn't a long time but long enough to say that it definitely wasn't premature ejaculation.

It felt so good to feel his cum in my mouth. I mean, he'd cum in my mouth before now, but not like it was the real deal. We didn't have to struggle. And there was a lot of it, and it was strong and warm like it used to be.

I won't lie; I think that Dad has been slowly having more and more difficulty for a long time, and the most recent disaster was merely the straw that broke the camel's back. He used to be able to go at least twice without any real effort on his part, and last year it was more like once with some effort. He's getting older, and I've accepted that. But I think anal stimulation might be a way to fight back, and I'm really happy that it worked.

In fact, I'm now looking into options for toys, because we'd really like to try to do something which wouldn't require me to have my finger in his ass. I'm open to suggestions if anyone has any, and I've also got some things to try of my own. We don't have a lot of disposable income at the moment, but we can dispose a little for this. And Dad is eager to try now. He still says he isn't interested in fucking my ass and I respect that, and he's definitely not going to get another man to do anything with him, but he's starting to see that maybe having his daughter get him hard in any way she can is no bad thing.

Sveta's Panties

Remember this post from almost two years ago? Well Sveta does. She had the following pic somehow; I don't remember it being taken, but clearly it was. And since she's just the gift that keeps on giving, she told me to share. I couldn't say no. I mean, I really, really wanted to, but I couldn't. My arm was twisted.

Submitted for your approval, a picture proving that I at least have the panties I was talking about. Sveta thinks hers are somewhere, but we're not going digging through her stuff just to pack it all up again. I hate packing. Anyway, peruse at your pleasure (and unlike some of my pictures, I believe you may actually be able to click to see it larger).

Flash Fiction Friday - Closer

"Closer." Already my muscles were aching, stretched to breaking point, as was my cruelly-taunted libido, desiring nothing more than a touch. I would have dislocated every joint in my body if I thought it would do any good at all. But the gulf that separated us was more than physical. It kept growing wider as I tried harder.

"Closer." The word was anathema. I never wanted to hear the command again. Surely I was close enough. Surely I had stretched to the point where... but whenever I opened my eyes, there she was, a hair's breadth away, tongue impishly wiggling, and here I was, bound, gagged, only a hand free in a futile attempt to touch what I never could.

---

"You get me closer to God." Hands up everyone who immediately thought of the NIN song when they saw the title. "I wanna fuck you like an animal." I threw out the title after having written the piece, and the piece has nothing to do with the song, but as a soundtrack it's not half bad. Not half good either, but it's an unavoidable consequence of my youth that I can't really not think of the song when I see that title. I suppose I could think of the Richard Cheese lounge version, or Weird Al's polka version, or I could think of Kyra Sedgwick in The Closer. If that helps to excise the song from your brain, be my guest. "Help me..." Damn it, it's stuck in there now.

We all already know about my predilections against the sort of thing in this week's picture. Hence, only one this week, strictly fitting the requirements. The only twist is to think of the real prisoner as being the owner of that finger, rather than the obvious. And I can't even take credit for that.

Head over to Flash Fiction Friday headquarters to see who else is playing, because I guarantee that Sephi, for one, will have done something better with this picture; it's her type of thing and she submitted the picture this week. My type of thing is crazy fantasy, but I should learn from last week and keep it shorter. Not going to stop doing it though. That would be too much to ask.

21 Questions Group Play

Okay, because work got out early, I decided to steal 21 Questions from France (who in turn got it from someone else). But it's not just me answering this time. I asked Sveta, Mom, and Dad to answer as well, because trivia loves company.

My answers are in red, Sveta's are in pink, Mom's are in green, and Dad's are in blue. Yes, I'll probably screw this up, which is why I'll be labeling our dialogue as well, since it was more of a conversation on topics than a Q&A session. And since I was transcribing, I edited a bit too.

1. Sex in a cemetery or a Walmart bathroom?

ME: Bathroom. They keep them fairly clean. I mean, if any of you died, I'd come and have sex on your grave, just so you could watch from the afterlife, but until then...

SVETA: Only if you made me would I do either.

DAD: I've had sex in a cemetery.

MOM: Me too.

ME: Where haven't you had sex?

DAD: The White House?

MOM: Just you wait...

2. Are you a voyeur or exhibitionist?

ME: A bit of both, but probably more voyeur.

DAD: Says she who will be writing this up on her blog.

MOM: I was an exhibitionist back in the day, but now I'm happy with watching other, younger, crazier people if it's a choice.

DAD: I'm a dirty old man; that's the only thing I can be at this age.

ME: So are you the kind who wears a trench coat and flashes schoolgirls, or the kind who leers?

DAD: Leers.

SVETA (simultaneously): Flashes.

DAD: Okay, guilty as charged.

SVETA: I like being flashed.

3. Do you take dirty/sexy pictures of yourself with your cell?

DAD: What's that you say? You can take pictures with the telephone now? Eh? I think my hearing aid has gone out.

SVETA: Yes.

ME: We'll talk about this later young lady.

4. If you were a hooker/pimp what would your name be?

SVETA: Um... Sveta? [Editor's note: she actually said Sveta, not her real name]

ME: Okay, then if we're going into business together, I'll be Oola.

DAD: I think you all will do just fine without a pimp, so I'm disqualifying myself from answering.

MOM: Me too.

5. And how much would you charge?

SVETA: I don't know what the rates are.

ME: Yeah, me neither. Probably a lot.

DAD: Worth every penny.

MOM: I thought you said you weren't going to be their pimp?

DAD: What, I can't be an unbiased observer offering consumer reports?

MOM: Seriously, no amount of money is good enough for you two, or for anyone in this family.

6. How long should foreplay last?

SVETA: A long time.

ME: I sense a hint here.

SVETA: No, I mean, it lasts plenty long with you.

DAD: All I get these days is foreplay, so as long as possible please.

ME: I think there's a limit; I mean, at a certain point, I want to move beyond foreplay. But I guess that depends on your definition of foreplay.

MOM: When you get older, you'll appreciate foreplay more than the act itself.

ME: Not likely.

MOM: Okay, fine, I like to get to it at a certain point too. There's a difference between attentive to my needs and secretly terrified to go any further. Or believer in too much Tantra.

DAD: But it's so much fun.

MOM: You're exempted, honey. I can never have enough foreplay with you.

ME: Get a room you two.

7. Do you own any butt plugs?

ME: Yes. Oh yes.

SVETA: Me too.

MOM: I owned one once. Never got used.

DAD: Ditto.

8. Hotel Sex with the curtains open? Ever done it?

ME: Yes. Lots of times. I guess we should have closed the curtains sometimes.

SVETA: No... wait, maybe, I don't remember.

DAD: Sure you have. If not, we need to find a hotel. You can't be in this club if you haven't boinked up against the glass for everyone to see.

MOM: Don't encourage him.

9. Sex at the in-laws or parents of whom you are dating?

SVETA: When haven't I done that?

ME: Once or twice, I think. I'm given to understand that you and Ernst may have...

SVETA: Okay, so you've got me there.

DAD: Actually, I'm not sure I ever have. Probably. But most of the time, I brought dates back to my house.

MOM: Aside from some things which I'll disqualify, I'm not sure I have either; your father didn't have that situation. Although I did go home with him plenty of times.

10. Feathers or Whips?

ME: I guess, if I have to pick, feathers.

SVETA: Yeah, I guess. Although I might try whips.

ME: Uh oh.

DAD: Feathers for me too; never been a fan of whips. Unless we're talking about cattle herding, in which case, whips.

MOM: I don't think we're talking about herding cattle.

DAD: Okay, you might be right.

MOM: There was a time when the answer might have been different, but I think we're a feathers-type family at this point. Not that I really want to be tickled either.

11. Would you let your partner shave you?

ME: I think we did that once, didn't we?

SVETA: I don't remember. But I'd let you.

ME: It's not really that erotic.

SVETA: I don't know.

ME: Would you let someone other than me do it?

SVETA: I guess. Maybe not.

DAD: I went through that phase, thank you, and I'm glad to be past it.

MOM: So am I.

12. Where is your favorite place to have sex?

ME: On my parents' bed.

SVETA: Somewhere in this house.

DAD: Ditto to that.

MOM: What, no one's going to say the Eiffel Tower?

SVETA: I thought you said it was the White House.

13. Do you remember your first time?

ME: Oh yeah.

DAD: I remember your first time too, girly.

SVETA: I remember my first time with the family more than I remember my first first time, but I remember that too.

MOM: There are all sorts of first times. I think it's best to remember the ones worth remembering. But I remember mine.

DAD: I remember a lot of firsts, but my first actual time... it's a bit hazy, but I remember it a little.

14. Where was your first time and how was the sex?

ME: In my favorite place and fantastic.

SVETA: Ditto and more than ditto.

DAD: At your uncle's house. If I can't remember it that well, it can't have been awful but it can't have been the greatest.

MOM: Yeah, mine was terrible.

DAD: How about our first time? I remember that like it was yesterday.

MOM: That was worth remembering. I think that was the first time I felt like someone loved me.

DAD: We made love on the back porch, remember?

MOM: Twice, then the mosquitoes got too intense. I had bites on my butt for days. Itched like the dickens.

DAD: But worth it.

MOM: Oh yes.

15. Role play for a minute? Who would you be?

ME: Karl, Frost Warrior with a +1 Battle Axe.

[total silence]

ME: Oh come on, you know, roleplaying? Dungeons and Dragons? Okay, fine, be party poopers. I guess I'd like to be Oola for a minute, as long as Sveta will come and stand on the corner with me.

SVETA: Okay!

[At this point, we struck hooker poses while Mom and Dad laughed.]

ME: Oh, I see; prostitute humor gets you, but not nerd humor.

DAD: Can I roleplay a john please?

ME: Let's finish the questions first.

16. Sex in front of a mirror?

MOM: Done it, wasn't all that interesting.

DAD: Me too, although with the three of you...

ME: You should have had them install the mirror in the bedroom.

SVETA: What's the point?

MOM: A gal after my own heart.

ME: I've done it too. I had to be careful not to get sucked into my own face.

SVETA: Like the Matrix?

ME: Shut up.

17. A song that makes you think of sex.

SVETA: Right now, pretty much anything that isn't death metal.

ME: This is like a "favorite song" question. I have a hard time coming up with anything but a random response.

MOM: Let's Get It On?

DAD: Dear, not with the children watching!

ME: You all rehearsed that, didn't you?

MOM: No, that song makes me think of sex. I even like Jack Black's version.

DAD: You Ain't Goin' Nowhere by Dylan.

ME: Ooh, that's a good one. But so is Let's Get It On, although the Marvin Gaye version is better. How about Barry White?

SVETA: Something from this decade.

ME: All the music from this decade sucks.

SVETA: Old fogey.

ME: Young whippersnapper.

MOM: Okay kids, not in front of the parents.

18. Are you horny right now?

ME: Okay, on three, one, two, three:

EVERYONE: Yes.

19. What is your favorite body part on yourself and do you show it off?

SVETA: I hate this kind of question.

ME: Come on, you're beautiful.

DAD: I second that.

MOM: I third it.

SVETA: Okay, fine, I like my eyes.

ME: Chump answer.

SVETA: I do.

ME: Okay, fine. I guess I like my ass.

SVETA: Me too.

DAD: I second that.

MOM: It's a very nice butt dear, but you know me; I'm not going to third it this time.

DAD: I'm too old to answer this kind of question.

MOM: I'm quite fond of your lips.

DAD: Okay, lips it is.

ME: Well, mine is the only one that really gets shown off.

SVETA: I know; we've all seen the pictures.

ME: Can I help it?

20. Edible panties? Tried them?

ME: Stupid. Such a disappointment.

SVETA: No, but I've heard from Lexi what they're like.

DAD: I can't believe anyone still talks about them seriously.

MOM: Pretty silly.

and

21. I need some questions; what do you want to know?

DAD: Are we done yet?

ME: Why didn't you have a real question here?

SVETA: You want to go upstairs?

MOM: Who's hungry for dinner?

And there we left it.

Problem Envy

Boy, I tell ya, it's hard being me. Having to attempt to satisfy a sex-crazed teen is rough on my ancient libido.

And before you all kill me, I'm joking. Sveta arrived Monday evening though, which is why the past two days have been post-free. She's getting to spend this week here, then she has to go back to her house, at least for the time being.

She had a rough time saying goodbye to Ernst; I think she was hoping he might come back to my house with her for a visit, but he had family there for graduation and he had to do things with them and then haul his stuff home. He's not so far away that he's on the other side of the world, but he's also not close enough to make it anything but a long-distance relationship. Which is what I knew from the outset, which is why I was a little worried about his attempts to make things more serious. But they got semi-serious anyway, and now she's bummed out because she's afraid she'll never see him again. If I were him, that wouldn't be what happened (not ever seeing her again, I mean) but who knows?

But she's also bummed out because, for the past few days, she hasn't been getting her daily dose. At the end, they were up to daily at least. Which means that, while she had her room to herself and could masturbate (and next year, she hopes to be able to parlay a single at some point, but that remains to be seen) masturbation isn't the same, as well I know. So she's been frisky as a kid in a candy store ever since she got home.

The worse part is that, even with the AC going full blast (and I don't care about any hippies who want to tell me otherwise; AC is glorious and completely necessary) it's been quite sticky and hot here, which has made the passionate warmth of coital pleasure a bit less comfortable than normal. It's also made sleeping in the same bed much less comfortable for both of us; I toss and turn when I get hot, and two people in the same bed is just a recipe for me being unable to sleep because it's too warm and them being unable to sleep because I toss and turn because it's too warm. But we manage somehow.

Okay, actually the worst part is that I have a gig this week which has taken up far too much of my time, time I'd much rather be spending trying and failing to satisfy my nymphomaniac at home. It's not one of my regular gigs; I was asked to design lights for a concert at the theater, so it's only this week, but it pays better than normal gigs, although not all that well. I took it because I needed the money and because it gives me a lot of opportunity to do fun things with the lights. We don't have fancy lights, but even with the fairly primitive setup that's there, I've been able to do some fun stuff. Plus I get paid to mostly sit in the light booth and drink.

If it were a bit more secluded and the show didn't require a fair amount of attention, I'd bring Sveta to the booth and we'd fool around. I may bring her, but the amount of fooling around will be limited. Which is too bad, because we'd both like to fool around. So maybe I won't bring her, just because the temptation would be entirely too great.

We've been spending a fair amount of time in the shower, because it's the only way to cool off. Dad, thank goodness, has taken up a bit of my slack too, when I'm not around and Sveta gets the itch (and yesterday that happened a number of times). He's getting better about not beating himself up about the fact that he can't do anything other than fingers and tongue, mostly because she's been trying her little heart out to get him hard, which may not work well but is fun, as I well know. I even got her to try to talk him into doing some prostate play, and while he's been somewhat resistant to that idea as yet, between the two of us, we'll bring him around.

So if you don't see much of me for the rest of the week, you know why. I'm not super-busy with the gig, but all the time I don't spend doing that is time I'll probably be spending feeding the beast, as it were. Sveta, perpetually horny, without anything else to do, and at my house: I think that's a problem I'd like to have more often.