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Sveta keeps making me post these. Blame her.

That's me, in what I thought was a private moment until Sveta whipped out her camera and snapped me before I could dive for cover. Minx.

Random Fiction - The Carver of Headstones

She is waiting in stone. Some day I will pick up my chisel to carve and she will be inside instead. I do not know if it will be a joyous meeting; time has changed me since she knew me. But I have been promised that she is waiting.

When she left me all those years ago, when I begged them to make her mine again, I made no specifications as to how. And when the chisel was left at my doorstep, tangled in a strand of her hair, I knew the old ones were telling me what I needed to know. But not what I wanted to know. How, but not when.

I am an old man now, and yet perhaps I am not the changed one. Maybe she will emerge from the cold embrace of rock like a virgin from the foam, or maybe she will come back cold and hard as I have become. Maybe we're meant for each other.

Maybe the chisel was just a joke. Maybe she did what she said she would do and went to America to be an actress. Maybe she wound up a whore.

Maybe...

I cannot think those thoughts. So instead I choose another block, another mortuary statue to complete, and chip away, and think that this may be the day. She is waiting. I have been promised.

---

This isn't a terribly sexy picture and in many ways it's sort of frightening. The eyes are what really get me. But it was the first picture to pop up on the random spinner that said anything at all, so I used it. I didn't spin that many times either; there was an obvious one about BDSM, a really ugly one, and an illustration from a book, and then this one. The first I already did last week, the second I wasn't about to do, and the third had already been done by someone else and I wasn't interested in literary sloppy seconds.

I like the idea of a sort of reverse Pygmalion with a bit of whoever said that there was a sculpture hiding in every rock, and it merely needed finding. Something like that. I think, if you ask dark powers to bring your love back, you're likely to get something other than what you bargained for, and I think carving your love out of rock would probably wind up badly. So let's hope, for our narrator's sake, that he never actually finds her in a stone. Those eyes aren't mortal eyes anymore.

No FFF again this week, not that I think I would have had the time to do it had there been one. I hope everything's okay at FFF headquarters. But I decided to do one of these random ones instead, because it's good practice.

Better Hookups

After our last outing Sveta and I might be excused for taking a break from the singles scene for a while. Not to mention the fact that Mike's a hard act to follow. But we got back on the horse (for which, read "we were both pretty horny") and found someone. And that someone turned out to be a much better deal.

To save the suspense, and because no one will be that surprised, the answer is Jodie. For those of you who don't remember, Jodie is Sveta's roommate, who was believed, on first impressions to be rather uptight and chaste. But there's a twist; we didn't have sex with Jodie. We'd like to (I'm talking about Sveta and me like we're some kind of collective) because she's cute and sounds like she'd be good in the sack, but that hasn't happened. What has happened is Jodie joined in a conversation with us about sex, which led to us bemoaning the lack of good guys, and she said, "Oh, my brother would love you two." The next question writes itself: "When will we get to meet him?"

Fast forward a few days to when we get to meet her brother, who shall be known as Thom from here on in. Thom is not a tall guy. He's really rather a short guy. Not the most incredibly attractive man on the planet, but not horrible to look at either. And he exudes this confidence which is really attractive for some reason. The first thing he said to us was, "Well, which one of you am I going to see naked first? I have a bet with my sister." He's closer to my age, a bit younger but not a college student, actually rather a successful man-about-town. Which made me feel a little ashamed of my own non-successful woman-about-town-ity, but I got over it because it wasn't worth feeling that way.

If anyone was making a bet on the nakedness, the easy money is on me, but you'd be wrong because Sveta actually stripped down first. The crazy thing was that Jodie stuck around once things got past the introduction/small-talk stage. She didn't stay long enough to see anything really juicy, but she saw plenty of Thom making out with me and Sveta, and she saw Sveta naked too before she said, "Okay, have fun you guys," and left. I admit, I was really hoping she'd stay; clearly it didn't squick her out too much to be around her brother and sex. There may be more there than meets the eye. Who knows; maybe she was trying not to freak us out.

Thom is pretty hairy, swarthy is the word I believe, and probably not the guy I'd pick out of a lineup for a fling, but damn if it wasn't totally worth it. His cock was in good working order, he used it well, and he was good enough to get Sveta to cum (he made me cum a number of times, but that's not as difficult). Condoms were used, which was a good thing (safe sex, kids) but at the same time disappointing, because the first time he came, he came in a way which really, really made me wish he'd cum inside me instead of pulling out and cumming on Sveta's chest, several healthy spurts which I loved licking up.

I won't give a play-by-play, save to say that all three of us were well-satisfied if not completely sated, and Thom enjoyed watching the two ladies go at it even after he was spent for the evening. Sveta was pretty spent too by the second orgasm (that one I gave her). I could have gone on; I suddenly got horny as a poet on shoreleave, or something like that. In fact, I did go on; I got myself off again after the other members of the party were lying back and enjoying the afterglow. It wasn't a long session for all the action; I don't think we were at it more than an hour or two. And then Thom headed for the bathroom, came back fully-dressed, gave us both goodnight kisses, and left.

We shall see him again, believe that. And maybe get to the bottom of Jodie too, either figuratively or literally. I bet Thom has a friend who wouldn't be shy, and maybe we could have a foursome in some bed which isn't in a dorm room. Okay, that last might be more wishful thinking, but I'm happy with a guy who fucks as well as he does, even if it's just one of him.

But the moral of the story is the real twist: getting laid really only solves one problem, and that problem is a lack of getting laid. Sure, if that problem is stressing you out and causing other problems, getting a good fuck can help, but at the end of the day, Sveta and I were both well-fucked but in pretty much the same situation as before. Sex is great. I love it. But it's not a solution to much of anything.

Sorry to be a downer about it. It's just that I don't want anyone to think that my life has suddenly improved tremendously because I got a dick in me for an hour or two. Nor should anyone envy my life just because I happen to get things stuck in various places on occasion. It doesn't make my life worse, and I don't want to stop, but there are other things which must be done as well. Take care of yourselves, sex or not.

There's a reason the old saw isn't "Sex conquers all." Just saying.

Missing

He twitches sometimes when he comes inside me. It's not the face he makes; a lot of the time he's behind me and I don't get to see any silly face he might be making. It's not any noises he might make either; he's fairly quiet. But there's a twitch right before his cock spurts cum into me that I can't get enough of.

Not always. But sometimes. And it's sometimes enough to make me cum too. I remember hearing a sex therapist saying that she thought it was silly for partners to cum together, because it meant that they'd miss the moment of their partner's climax. Which is valid, I suppose; there is something magical about making someone cum and watching them. But there's also something magical about falling off the cliff at the same time.

He empties himself into me. It's not about the amount of semen; let's face it, biologically, the male animal doesn't make as much as I'd like, ideally. Sure, there are probably "freaks of nature" who cum buckets, but when I talk about cumming buckets, it's hyperbole. And I don't care. When he cums inside me, it's not about volume, it's about how he seems to flow into me, like we become one for just a moment. It's the most intimate thing you can share, I think. It's not always intimate, but when it is, it's the most intimate.

My cunt is like my heart; it's big enough for more than one person (no, that's not a dirty joke; I couldn't do DP in my pussy or anything like that). There's a space inside me which is filled by all the men I love, and when I don't have them inside me, that space feels empty, like my heart does when I miss them. I like penetration, but it's more than that. Being penetrated by certain people is a different ballgame.

Right now, I miss Mike. But I miss Dad too, miss him whole and healthy. I miss a lot of people. And I know that there are some of them who will never be back. The ache dulls, but it never goes away. That's not a sad thing. How else can I remember what I once had?

Random Fiction - Mistress and Maid

Because there was no FFF this week, and because I've been struggling for posts, and because people have said I should, and just because... I went to an erotica site I like and hit the random button a few times until I got a picture I didn't hate (I know, that sounds like cheating, but there are a lot of crappy pictures out there and I wanted something I could vaguely get into, even if it wasn't entirely my thing), then I'm going to write something using it as inspiration. Who knows if this will be a recurring thing. I'm not offering this picture up as a substitute challenge; I'm just doing it for myself. See PB for challenges.

Clementine had been stealing again. I felt a certain compassion for the girl even as I instructed Harris, our Punjab butler, to tie her to the tree. "Please memsahib, she is so young," begged Tilda, the head maid. But I was firm.

"You would prefer it if the Master found out? So he could take it out of her hide with a horsewhip? Believe me, this is for her own good. She'll never learn if she isn't disciplined." And Tilda fell silent, knowing that Clementine was lucky to live in my household. "Strip her," I said curtly to Harris, who did as he was told. A faithful old retainer was Harris. He'd been with my husband for years. Never batted an eye.

"Please lady, I will not do it again," whimpered the girl, but Harris' firm hands pulled her frock over her head. The skin he revealed was much paler than I would have guessed, much more firm, more supple. The girl was a beauty. I couldn't help staring as Harris tied her arms to the branch.

"Harris, Tilda, you may go," I said, trying to keep the tremor from my voice, the surprise from my tone. "I'll call for you when the punishment is finished." They bowed and receded into the bushes. "Girl, do you know why I have to do this?" I asked her, unable to stop myself. Was it compassion? My eyes wandering over her skin gave the lie to that notion.

Clementine merely whimpered, so I pulled a bunch of twigs from the nearby brush and swatted her taut buttocks. "Answer me," I said, more harshly this time.

"Because I stole," she sobbed.

"Yes." I swatted her again, more gently this time.

"But my family, they need food."

"No excuses." Again, the lash descended, harder this time, raising a series of small red welts on her smooth flesh. But then I dropped my bundle and placed my hands on her hips. "In future, if you need something extra for your family, you will ask, and I will grant your request."

It was easy to convince her, as my fingers slipped between her legs, finding her warm center and entering without obstruction. "Memsahib," she whimpered as my lips met hers. "Please do not stop."

"Stop what?"

"Do not stop beating me." And she smiled a little as my other hand came down with a crack on her backside, even as the tears welled up again.

---

I'm not one for corporal punishment play. I like pleasure more than pain. But this picture had to have that theme. And it just screamed "British Raj" to me for some reason. I'd like to think that the narrator is enlightened by her love of this serving girl. Who knows what might happen?

Long Time No See

Sveta's been quite the shutter bug. I'm not such a camera fanatic, but she prevailed upon me to take pictures, and several of them have been of the sexy variety, so in lieu of anything else worth seeing on this blog, here's one of them.

It's been a while, hasn't it? Still, here I am. I think my ass is getting a bit flabby, actually. But then I'm seldom happy with pictures of me.

Catching Up On Things

ps mentioned that he wasn't sure I'd had any cock at all in forever, and it's actually not true. Dad is not totally up to snuff, but he can manage a bit these days, more than before, and when I'm around I help with the recuperation. It's still not great, and it's not really worth talking about because it's neither entertaining for me to tell or for you to hear. It's a bit like physical therapy for him.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about. Because Sveta and I haven't been totally off the market in the time since I went kind of silent. Actually, me being there with her a lot has been interesting; I feel like I'm really imposing sometimes, but I can be a great wingman, and so we've managed to snare a few nights' entertainment from the willing male populace.

Mostly, that was me getting Sveta and a nice-enough guy set up, then them going back to her room, doing their business, and me waiting around in the common area. I know that sounds like I'm making a huge sacrifice, but really I just wanted Sveta to have a few moments of fun in a life which has been not terribly fun of late. And these guys weren't really candidates for double-teaming. And her bed isn't exactly huge.

But one of the guys she liked enough to invite back, and she said he was open to a threesome (like there was any doubt of that, right?) so instead of him coming to her place, we went to his. I felt old and out of place; actually, I feel old and out of place a lot when I'm in her dorm room. But he had a larger bed, living off-campus in an apartment. I think he might have been a grad student. Still a spring chicken, but ancient by college standards.

Things started off well enough; he had booze, and frankly at that point I needed several stiff drinks, the way life was going. I wasn't really feeling sexy or interested; I figured I'd just be a sort of bedroom wingman, pick up any loose ends, maybe give him a thrill by making out with Sveta a little, and then just settle in and let them fuck. But he wanted me. Or, more specifically, he grabbed me and started kissing me. Very sure of himself. I wasn't so sure. I don't want anyone to think that this was a date-rape-type situation; I just mean that I was under-enthused about the whole thing.

But damn it if he didn't turn my crank until the spring broke. He had a way with his hands which just made my nipples ache, in a very nice way, and I was drenched by the time he got close to my pussy. Sveta started sucking him while he stroked me, tweaking me and kissing me and just basically making worry-Lexi go away and insanely-horny-Lexi come roaring out.

And then, about two thrusts after he got inside me, he came, weakly, and immediately pulled out and shriveled up. I mean that both literally and metaphorically; his cock shrank like I was made of ice, and he stopped talking or doing much of anything.

I have no idea what was up. He basically told us both to get lost, so we gathered up our stuff and beat it, because damned if we were going to stick around after that. It was really odd. And it made me feel terrible. I know, no reason for me to feel bad, he was a dick not me, but I just felt awful. That night wasn't pleasant.

But I'm feeling better about it now, and Sveta has assured me that he wasn't that great a lay in any case, so I wasn't missing much, and that she thinks he's a dick too, and she gives him the evil eye every time she sees him. So I'm telling the story as catharsis, and also because it was just odd. I've had premature ejaculation before, but to go from full-on expert to sullen teen at the drop of a hat... it was bizarre.

I admit, I didn't feel totally right with myself until Mike arrived and summarily had me over the couch twice in quick succession. He pulled out and came in Sveta's mouth the first time, but though he loves her like a sister, I'm his sister biologically and he'd better remember that. No, just kidding; he knew I was feeling very in need of some good loving. When his cum splashed into me the second time, I remembered what it felt like when it was right, and things just seemed to click into place. And now I miss Mike terribly. Sveta and I haven't gone trolling for booty recently, but I'm thinking it might be time again. Maybe one for each of us. You never know.

Flash Fiction Friday - Withdrawal

On the third day it took hold. I’m not saying the other days were peachy-keen, but day three fucked my ass with a razor blade. I stood at the mirror for hours, howling wordlessly, feeling the cold sting as my face melted off and my skin crawled with maggots. Cracked and failing, eventually my voice descended into gravel and my brain seemed to short-circuit.

I told him to lock me in, not to come in until I was done, but he couldn’t stand it, stupid, lovely man that he was. He came in, though I had begged him not to. He came in and I jumped him. And now the walls are painted with him, Jackson Pollock and intestines. But I can see myself in the mirror again, and I swivel and admire my returned beauty. Maybe next time. For now, I am young again, and the price doesn’t seem so high with the iron tang in my nostrils and my people calling me from the shadows.

---

It's been a month, I think. Maybe more. I missed it, I really did. Maybe the withdrawal was mine, rather than the woman's.

At first, I was bored with the idea of withdrawal; it seemed like it was too easy. And then she killed him. Horribly. I was kind of shocked. Lest you believe she's a vampire, remember that I don't write about vampires. Things with vampiric aspects, certainly, but not vampires. I've been quite firm on that.

While I may not have time to make any rounds, I'm putting my hat in this week because it's a good time. Flash Fiction Friday is worth the work and waiting.

I Can TMI Whenever I Want

So what if it's Thursday night. So what if Flash Fiction Friday will be up in a few short hours. I'm going to TMI because I have some time and I'm feeling bloggy. "Bloggy" sounds unpleasant actually, like it might be curable with laxatives. I'm feeling bloggerific. That's better. Blame Advizor for pointing me to the questions.

All about the wedding tackle, twig & berries, pole, fire hose, skin flute, dipstick, meat thermometer or what we all know as the penis.

1. What’s more important – length or width? Why?

Good question. As I've always said, size makes a difference, but it doesn't matter. Maybe I haven't said it, but I meant it. Technique can compensate for lack of size, but not the other way around. If all I wanted was size, I'd just get a dildo. Seriously, there's more to it than that. That said, I think I might enjoy width a bit more than length, although I can take a longer cock than I can take a wider one. Long requires more technique, if it's long enough to hit bottom. Wide... gently, and I'm happy.

2. Ever encountered one that was too big for you to handle?

I've had my doubts as to my ability to handle a few, and once or twice I've had lovers who didn't know how to handle their cocks, so they might not have been as big as some other lovers, but they were too big for their owners.

3. Best place to put a penis?

Inside me. I don't really care where.

4. If you had a penis for a day, what would you do with it?

Fuck like crazy. No point in wasting a moment of the sensation. Maybe go out in public and wave it around. No, not that. But seriously, given a limited amount of time with a penis, I would use it for that for which it was intended to be used, as much as possible. I've always been curious.

5. You’re a penis, which love canal (that’s a vagina) would you most like to visit:

1. short and shallow
2. fall into the gap, gliding smoothly along the slick walls
3. tight suction lip-lock
4. none, I prefer the back door thank you

I think I'd like B. Something low-key and comforting. That's if I were a penis. If I had one, I'd try all of those options plus a few others.

Bonus: What is the perfect name for your penis or a penis you use often?

I'm terrible about pet names. I don't name my own parts; how can I name other people's?

Back to the Grind

I've been getting very bad about play-by-play. Maybe it's because it no longer interests me that much. Maybe I'm just lazy. But in lieu of a recounting of events, here are some snippets of holiday cheer which will maybe montage over some of the gaps.

• My midnight kiss with Sveta on New Year's Eve (or Day, whatever) was magical. Probably the best kiss I've ever had. I know it's just another second of yet another day, but it meant a lot to me, and I think to her as well.
• Seeing Mike, however briefly, for the holidays was wonderful too. I think the moment that best encapsulates the wonderfulness of it was when he teared up when I told him how much I missed him. I don't know if he'll be seen any more regularly, but he knows how I feel.
• The sex was pretty incredible, if thinner on the ground than one might expect. Sveta and I are both happily taken care of in the anal department. God, having a cock in my ass after what felt like forever since the last time... I felt like I was a virgin again. I actually had to have him slow down a little because it was too tight.
• Best gift: family love. Okay, that was bullshit sentimentality, but true anyway. Best commercial gift: Amazon money. I'm not going to lie; I love to shop on Amazon, and getting some credit to do that is a gift in and of itself. And then, of course, all the prices shot up.
• Best gift that keeps on giving: extremely cute panties which I gave to Sveta as a little lagniappe and wound up enjoying perhaps more than the main gift I gave her. They were on sale. Cutest damn things ever.
• No sex under the tree this year; our tree was tiny.
• Not really a non-stop bacchanal in any respect Christmas morning. "The kids" woke up, headed downstairs, and found Dad already awake and tapping his foot like he was afraid the gifts were going to turn back into pumpkins or something.
• Christmas evening, on the other hand, was a grade-A love-em-up. Not quantity, but quality.
• New Year's was completely low-key. Sveta and I went out for a bit and by the time midnight rolled around we were both pretty tired, so we kissed (and what a kiss it was, lasted about ten minutes I'd say) and then went to bed.
• Emotions have been running high, so some days have been better than others.
• And now it's back to commuting to Sveta every week at least and wondering where the money is coming from.

In all, not a horrible holiday season, and I hope yours was good too.