TMI Tuesday - Pleasures

1. Tell us your top two simple pleasures.

A cookie and an orgasm. I'm not going to pretend to be other than I am, which is a gal who likes cookies and cumming.

2. You are being a offered a day of pleasure but you must choose one of the following to do. Which would you choose?
a. Sex
b. Watching big sports match/game
c. Fun times with good friends

Sex. I'm me, plus I don't really care about sports that much (I'm not one of those "sportsball" people; I like to watch sports when they're available, but I don't really care that much about them). Fun times with good friends would be sex, so that's basically just two options for me.

3. The sun shining through your window in the morning–annoyance or pleasure?

Annoyance. Usually it means I've had to wake up too early or couldn't get to sleep. Occasionally, very occasionally, I like to greet the dawn, and then the sun rising is wonderful, but I have to have intended to do it.

4. If you uttered the words “pleasure me” to your lover, what would you want to happen?

A delightful sensual massage, hitting all the erogenous zones before finally devolving into sex. I honestly haven't had one in a long time, not because Sveta's a slouch in the sack but because I really didn't think to ask. I may ask one of these days. It just requires a certain amount of preparation and accoutrements and I wouldn't want to just spring it on her randomly. Plus we'd have to change the sheets after because they'd get all messed up with massage oils. So it's mostly me being lazy.

5. Tell us one thing you were most grateful for last week?

I finally got paid some money I've been owed for a long time. I wish I had a better answer than that, but it was a sizeable enough chunk of change that it removes a whole laundry list of worries from my mind.

Bonus: What is the last thing you crossed of your bucket list?

Okay, so I don't really have a bucket list, per se. I have things I'd like to do, but I'm terrible at making lists so those things change depending on the day. I won't give it away, but I did something recently which was something I could check off, except now I kind of want to do it again, and it wasn't cheap, so that's not in the cards. I'm being a tease, I know, but I can't tell you what it was because it's too identifying, sorry.

When I was younger I had a sort of bucket list of sexual acts I hadn't yet tried, but I've tried a lot of them now and like I said, bad at making lists so I never really codified them. I can't for the life of me remember any of the items I checked off. It's been a while, unfortunately. I'm getting older, and while I still want sex just as much, it doesn't have to be quite as adventurous to turn my crank, I guess.

Special bonus question–one of life’s mysteries: Are fig newtons cookies or bars?

Trick question: they're sushi. Please stop asking about food item taxonomy because I have definite opinions and they're all very silly.

Okay, you twisted my arm. Fig newtons can't be a cookie because a cookie is a unit with possible admixtures of other units, and fig newtons are two distinct things. The cookie on the outside of the fig newton is a cookie, certainly. Also, cookies are by and large round, though that's not strict.

Fig newtons can't be bars because bars are baked in a pan and sliced, plus while they may contain layers those layers do not surround the other layers. Fig newtons have a cookie exterior surrounding a jam interior. One could make the case that this qualifies them as cookies based on jam cookies, but in jam cookies the cookie doesn't surround the jam. Anyway, jam cookies are hybrids of cookies and pizza, in the same way pizzookies and those giant chocolate chip cookies with icing on them that they sell in grocery stores are.

Fig newtons are a sushi roll. Before you insist that sushi rolls must be savory, there is no such requirement, nor is there a requirement for raw fish to be involved. They're dessert sushi. End of discussion.

Or are sushi rolls merely savory fig newtons? No, of course not. Who do you think I am?

Flash Fiction Friday Cross-Post

My latest entry in Fiction, the Friday Flash edition, is up on the sister-blog. Sister-blog sounds like something you'd talk about if you were a Mormon, doesn't it?

Anyway, does me doing this cross-post thing annoy you? Does it help remind you that I have a fiction blog? Do you wish I'd keep my fiction to myself entirely? Would you eat beans with George Wendt? Echo?

I Let Myself Be Seduced

So the past week and this week have been somewhat sparse because on top of a decent level of work at my "day" job, I have a gig doing some technical stuff for a theater in the area. Sorry about that.

Two things to report, regarding my busy week. First, one of my coworkers at my temporary gig is what the vulgar argot has termed a "spinner." She is adorable as fuck and I wish I had a cock on which she could spin, but I don't, plus she seems to be cheerfully heterosexual, which wouldn't necessarily stop me but she's also young enough to be my daughter. I'm getting a little long in the tooth to score coeds. 

Secondly, and more interestingly, at my "day" job (I say that because it's still gig work and mostly doesn't take place during the day) I had to deal with a very high-maintenance singer, a guy probably ten years older than me. Let's call him Martin. Martin is something of a regular at work, although we hadn't seen him since COVID hit. He does a concert, where I imagine most of the people in attendance are his friends, every year or so, and he is high maintenance in the extreme. Needs to practice everything 400 times, must have the technical stuff just so.

The good part was that I only had to be there for his rehearsal, because the performance I was unavailable due to my side gig, but my boss really doesn't like Martin and I get the feeling the feeling is mutual, so I still had to babysit for the rehearsals. We're kind of understaffed anyway; it's basically just me.

So I'm a good actor. I can make people, even high-maintenance people, think that I have no problem waiting on them hand and foot. And I was turning on every ounce of charm with Martin because I've found that he's easier to deal with when you pretend that you give a shit. I know, shocking, right? My boss takes the exact opposite tack, but then he's not really good at hiding his feelings about Martin.

I'm fetching things and moving things and generally being a good little servant, and Martin asked me something, I can't remember what, which was out of the question. Not "Can I fire a loaded pistol into your ceiling?" but something just as out of the question. And I laughed because I knew I was going to have to say no and said, lightly, "Only if you buy a girl a drink first."

To which he replied, "Okay, how about after this?"

I thought he was joking, so I laughed again and said, "Oh Martin, that's sweet, but I'm afraid..."

"I know, I know. I shouldn't have asked." Huh? I began to wonder whether Martin had been replaced by a pod person when I wasn't looking. "But I'd still buy you the drink." I mean, sure. We'd been getting on pretty well. Maybe he was just being nice? Nope, he was being totally serious. "Just to say thank you. I know I'm a lot sometimes."

"Well..."

"It's just that you've always been so nice to me and I wanted to pay you back."

I stammered something which he took as acceptance of his offer. I could have said no. I'm not going out to bars much these days (for "much" read "at all") but it hit me that he was hitting on me, and things started to make a bit more sense. Plus, not going to lie, I haven't been hit on by a guy in a while and I've been feeling... in need of flattery, I guess? The rational part of me knows that it's because of the situation, not because I'm old and undesirable, but the rational part of me is not the majority shareholder in my decision-making sometimes. I was flattered. Martin isn't bad looking, and I like older guys.

We finished up his rehearsal and I wondered whether he was going to back out, but he waited by the door of the booth while I closed things up and then said, "Should we just take my car?"

And what can I say? I let myself be seduced. I haven't had a cock in a while. So he escorted me to his car and then said, "Do you mind coming back to my place? I've got drinks there."

At this point I knew the score, so I was perfectly willing to make things easy. "Honey, you don't have to give me a drink if what you want is for me to come back to your place," I said, and I leaned over and let him kiss me. I know, the plague, the plague! Part of me was screaming at me to put a mask on and get out of the car, but she was easy to ignore. What can I say? I don't use protection anywhere near as often as I should.

His place was a condo. I got to see a little of it as he led me through to the bedroom. "Are you okay with this?" he asked me.

"More than okay," I said, which wasn't a lie. I let him take control, which was nice because subby Lexi hasn't gotten much play recently. He kicked his shoes off but his focus was getting me out of my clothes. I felt momentarily awkward about my somewhat utilitarian choice of undergarments, but they were off fairly quickly, and then he was standing there fully-clothed looking down at me lying on my back on the bed totally naked except for socks, which never did come off.

He surprised me by diving into cunnilingus with gusto. He wasn't bad at it, just kind of one-note. But if you hit the joy buzzer often enough with Lexi, she cums, which I did. Then he stripped off his clothes in a rush and moved up to kneel by my head.

His cock was delightful. A shower rather than a grower, but it was a decent length and when it got hard in my mouth its girth was more than sufficient, thank you. I let him fuck my face a little because subby Lexi was having a moment. He held my hair, which sometimes drives me nuts but in this instance made perfect sense, and once he realized that I could deepthroat him he enjoyed the hell out of that. I thought he was going to cum in my mouth when he pulled back, but he said, "God, I want to be inside you so bad. Do I need a condom?"

"Just get in me," I practically moaned. Do as I say, kids, not as I do.

He got me into a fairly athletic position for me, legs up over his shoulders, and started ruthlessly fucking me. I came again pretty quickly, and I expected that he'd do the same, but he just kept pounding away like it was no big deal. His hands roved from my hips to my breasts, but he was a jackhammer. I haven't been fucked so well in a while, and I just lay back and let it happen.

After a while, he told me to take him from behind, and subby Lexi was in full swing because I almost called him Daddy. I'm not sure what he would have done, but I stopped myself from saying it and let it be implied with the eagerness with which I assumed the position. He was inside me again in a rush and kept jackhammering away, his hands on my waist, his cock hitting all the right places. I came again. He didn't.

Finally he pulled out of me and I thought, okay, he wants to cum in my mouth or something, but instead he moved up beside me and then helped me straddle him. Being on top isn't entirely what subby Lexi wants, but I had gotten mine with little enough effort that I wasn't going to complain. So I held his cock and he eased my hips down until I was full of him again, my lips resting on the base of his cock. And then I rocked. I didn't jackhammer, I just wriggled. He got into that, and pretty soon he was thrusting up to meet me, his head never leaving its depth inside me, my clit rubbing against his pubic hair.

I came again, and that seemed to finally get through to him, because he pulled me down to kiss me and wrap his arms around me. "Where do you want it?" he asked.

"Just keep going, I'm safe." No need to go into the details. He smiled at me like he'd been hoping for that answer, and then, well, he came. I say it like that because after all the fucking I'd gotten, he could have cum like a fire hose and I'm not sure I would have known, but it was sort of anticlimactic. He held me, pressed up into me, and twitched a few times. That was it.

Not that I'm complaining. He had heroic stamina. We lay there, my breasts pressed into his chest, for a few moments, basking in the afterglow, then he asked if I wanted that drink now. I told him that I had to drive so it was probably better if I didn't. He wanted me to spend the night, but I convinced him that it was better if I didn't do that either. So he drove me back to my car and we parted ways.

I have no idea what I'm going to do if and when he comes back to work. I don't think I'd get in trouble, exactly; I'm a consenting adult and we didn't do it on company time or anything. But if he makes life interesting, I'm going to kick myself for having allowed myself to get into the situation

There's also a part of me which really wishes I'd been able to work his performance because I could have ridden that ride again. That part of me wanted to spend the night. She's stupid, what can I say? But damn, I haven't been fucked that well in a long time. Martin was a machine. I never would have suspected. I wonder how often he can get it up.

Anyway, I haven't gotten COVID and I guess I'll deal with whatever fallout happens when it happens, because I think it was worth it. At least, it was worth it at the time. I suppose future Lexi, who is the one who'll have to deal with past Lexi's dalliances, will be annoyed.

TMI Tuesday

I'm really only answering these because I want to answer one of them. I'll let you guess which one. And then I got long-winded about several other questions, so it all worked out. From, as always, the TMI Tuesday Blog:

1. Have you ever cheated at a board game? Why?

I can't recall ever doing it, but I probably have. Why? To win. Or maybe to get a goddamn game of Monopoly to finish for once.

2. [At w]hich board game are you unbeatable?

I'm easily beatable at nearly all games. I don't know why. I'm good at coming up with games but I'm not great at playing them. There was a period of time when the only things which informed Star Wars Trivial Pursuit were the original trilogy and nothing else, and I could clean up at Star Wars Trivial Pursuit because I used to have an encyclopedic knowledge of those movies, but then they made more of them and I got older and now any small child with a passable knowledge of Star Wars could take me to the cleaners. I'm still slightly depressed about this.

3. Which mythological creature would be your worst roommate?

Medusa because I'd be a statue in minutes. Is there any other answer? I guess if you're a goat, a chupacabra would be a bad roommate, but I think being turned to stone forever is probably just as bad as being killed by a chupacabra.

I'd probably make a fine roommate for a vampire because we'd keep similar hours and I don't like the sun any more than the undead, though if they smelled as bad as I imagine vampires smell and left dead bodies lying around, that might be a problem. They never cover corpse smell in the sexy teen vampire books. I feel like there's no amount of Ax Body Spray which could cover up the stink of a decomposing undead husk. Just me? Probably just me.

I would get pissed off at a werewolf for trashing the place every time there was a full moon, I'm not going to lie, and I guess that annoyance would last longer than being turned to stone would (I mean, the actual action of being turned to stone, not the being stone part) but still, being a statue, even if the statues that Medusa creates don't retain awareness and are just dead, would suck pretty hard.

Who else? I know the answer to the Sphynx's riddle (it's "man," in case you ever run up against a Sphynx other than the one in Egypt which is only called a sphynx because the Greeks ran around naming things in Egypt for a while) and other than that the Sphynx seems pretty chill. I wouldn't want to live under a bridge with a troll and I like goats (again with the goats) so I don't think I'd get along well with a troll, but again, as long as they didn't kill and eat me, I think it's still a better situation than being turned to stone.

A giant would be interesting. I'd have to put my natural desire to have sex with them to one side, depending on how big they were; I'm not a size queen but I play one on TV. Giants are sometimes described as horrible monsters and sometimes just big people, and I'm fairly tall, for a woman, so if the giant was of the masculine persuasion and seven or eight feet, I'd be curious, I won't lie. I feel like I could pleasure a giant of the feminine persuasion no matter their size, though I might have to enlist some help, which would be fun.

Bigfoot would be hairy and sort of the same boat as a giant, but again, as long as Bigfoot or yeti or whatever missing link wasn't actively killing/eating me, we'd have a better relationship than me with Medusa. The worst part about Medusa is that she wouldn't even have to mean it. She could be totally cool with me and mine but one look and I'd still be stone.

Going with Medusa. And if you can believe it, this wasn't the question I wanted to answer, but it caught me off-guard.

4. Give us a three song playlist. You can link to the songs if you wish.

The first three songs of Rage Against the Machine's Evil Empire, and I will be taking no follow-up questions at this time.

5. What famous person have you met or been within a few feet of (music concerts and book signings do not count).

Mary Oliver once told me a poem of mine was good but needed work, particularly a part which she found to be entirely too clever for its own good. I argued with her about some of it. Yes, I argued that I knew poetry better than Mary Oliver. If you have any idea who Mary Oliver is, you'll find that more amusing. She was very nice about it.

Other than that, I have very few famous people stories. Mary Oliver is really only mildly famous anyway, if you know poetry much at all. I don't know. I once got good enough at something that someone famous' brother let me take his advanced course in it even though I was patently unqualified to do so, but to reveal whom I'm talking about wouldn't add much to the story and would definitely narrow down my identity more than I'm comfortable with. Hell, I was in New York City for a bit and managed to never run into anyone famous out walking their dog in Central Park, mostly because I was in Brooklyn and never went to Central Park. I hear it's very pretty, but I'm scared of Manhattan.

Bonus: Is a hot dog a sandwich?

No, a hot dog is a sausage. If you're asking whether a hot dog on a bun with assorted condiments is a sandwich (and yes, I'm being pedantic because this is a question rife with pedantry), then no, a hot dog as typically served by the American cook is not a sandwich, it's a rudimentary taco. Since tacos are themselves merely a sub-category of the great family of wraps, hot dogs are wraps. Interestingly, that means that hot dogs and sushi are the same type of food, taxonomically. I use "wrap" here in a technical sense distinct from the American usage to mean "tortilla wrapped around something." A "wrap" in the technical sense is "any distinct thing which comes in one piece and surrounds a different distinct thing." I wish "wrap" hadn't been co-opted by American reluctance to call things "burritos."

Sandwiches require two pieces of bread. If you want to make your hot dog into a sandwich, you must place it between two pieces of bread. Note that this definition means that a sub is not, in fact, a sandwich if the two halves of the roll remain joined.

I'd draw a diagram of the taxonomy of things placed on one or more pieces of bread, but sadly the world will have to wait for my dissertation on how pizza and burritos share a common ancestor and are closer to sushi than a grilled cheese sandwich is.

Hot dogs are easy. Pocket pitas are where the system breaks down into quanta. For the record, most gyros, falafel sandwiches, and other such pita-using delights are wraps because the pita isn't the pocket variety, but once you put things inside the pocket of a pita they're pies, which are, way way back, wraps rather than sandwiches. It's all about the number of distinct things surrounding the other distinct thing. It's topology.

Did you think you were going to get a lecture about the topological nature of various foodstuffs from Lexi's Smut Blog?

TMI Tuesday - Writing

From the TMI Tuesday Blog.

1. When you need to get serious, good writing done where do you go?

Honestly, I'm not sure these days. Used to be I could shut my door and hop on my computer, but I don't have a door to shut anymore (our house is low on doors, a thing which doesn't make having cats any easier). So I usually do my writing late at night/early in the morning. I need quiet and I need solitude. Location is less important.

2. Where do you look for inspiration to write?

Questions asked by the audience (hint hint). TMI Tuesday. Things that happen in my life (which is why I haven't been writing much of that sort of thing recently). Flash Fiction Friday too, for fiction. 

3. If you could add anything to your office what would it be?

A door. Well, not really. I don't really have an office, I just have a room which, among other things, contains my computer. I'd like a second monitor, I think.

4. Are you an app calendar/planner (ie., g-cal, outlook) kind of person or do you still prefer a physical planner?

I'm pretty sure I have some form of dysgraphia. Handwriting is both hard and painful to me, and it's usually impossible to read what I've written. So when I get it together to have a calendar (and that's not always) I use digital means.

5. When you jot down notes do you use pen and paper or put it into an electronic device (tablet, smart phone, etc)

Strangely, I've never been much of a digital note taker. I'm not one for note taking in general because of this, but if I have to note something down I usually do it in my impenetrable scrawl and then am unable to read it later, thus ensuring that my notes are largely pointless. I'll draw diagrams sometimes. They're ugly and terrible but I can usually come back to them and understand them.

Bonus: March 15 is National Shoe World day. a holiday that illuminates the need for quality footwear for millions of people around the world who go without. What quality pair of shoes would you pick to gift to someone? Post a link or pic.

For various reasons I'm not able to go searching for shoes online to link to at the time of this writing, so I'll just say I'd give someone who needed them a quality pair of steel-toed boots. Safety first, kids. Don't do as I do. Wear OSHA-approved PPE at all times.

Flash Fiction Friday Cross-Post

Once again, over on the fiction sister blog, my entry for Flash Fiction Friday. I'm a bit busy this week so that's what you're getting. Sorry.

TMI Tuesday

From the TMI Tuesday blog. I'm sorry that I have nothing interesting to say in response to any of these questions, but I'm writing my responses just to keep in practice.

1. Under what circumstances would you fake your own kidnapping?

I'm not sure there are any circumstances I can think of where faking my own kidnapping would even be a bad solution to a problem. Faking my own death? Sure. But kidnapping? I don't know anyone from whom I want to scam money who would pay a ransom for me, plus it would probably worry my loved ones deeply. I guess I could fake having been kidnapped to get out of having to do something, but there seem like easier options.

Ok, scenario: Sveta and I get a divorce and then I find and marry some stupid rich person, then Sveta and I fake my kidnapping to scam said rich person out of the money. Then Sveta and I run off to someplace with no extradition treaty with the US. I don't know. This is still sounding like a lot more work than it's worth.

2. Do you feel you belong?

Depends on to what. I belong in my family, but I don't feel like I belong in the world most days. That's not me feeling suicidal if you're worried. I just don't feel like I belong in the world the way I am and who I love.

3. In your life, what is a fun thing you did that you will never do again?

I once rode what was at that point the fastest, tallest rollercoaster in the US. I had never been on one before. I don't think I could psych myself up to do it, knowing what I know now, plus rollercoasters which involve really high speeds hurt my back. I tend to stick to the lower velocities and heights.

4. Do you listen to your inner voice?

I hear it. Whether I follow its instructions changes from minute to minute based on how I'm feeling. But mostly my inner voice doesn't tell me what to do, it just whispers depression and anxiety at me. So yeah, I guess I listen, even if I try not to most of the time.

5. What can you hear?

Right now? The white noise of the fan in our bedroom. Sveta is asleep.

Bonus: Do you know yourself?

I don't think so. I know a version of myself, maybe. This is a deep philosophical question and I write a blog which is nothing but smut. You don't want my deep philosophical answer to this question. I know myself in the biblical sense. Get it?

Over Under

An anonymous pal asks, "Can you think of any encounters where you were particularly pleasantly surprised? (In other words, you didn't expect that much and it turned out to be surprisingly great.) How about unpleasantly surprised (expected great, turned out to be disappointing)?"

I tend to go into random encounters with low expectations, which is fine because I'm easy to get off, so anything above a baseline of "I came" is a pleasant surprise, but that's not particular. I could probably point back to things in the past of this blog, but that's no fun. So I'm going to try to recall a few times off the cuff when I was pleasantly/unpleasantly surprised.

I remember I went on a few dates, actual dates, with a guy who was very nice but seemed to have no desire to get into my pants at all, to the point where I was about to ask him why he wanted to keep dating if he wasn't going to at least try. Turns out he thought I was significantly more innocent than I am (significantly more, like he thought I might be a virgin) and was kind of confused by the fact that I was kind of putting out signals. But he was fairly innocent, and when he finally got up the nerve to ask if I wanted to come back to his place after a date, maybe for coffee or a movie or something, I was so horny that he could have gotten lucky in the car on the way to his place if he'd wanted to.

We got there, we sat on the sofa, I said something along the lines of, "You can kiss me if you'd like," because clearly he needed some encouragement and it was either that or just start taking off articles of clothing and see what he did. He kissed me rather chastely. I'm not a chaste kisser. I don't want it to seem like I was bulldozing over his objections, but I was putting out every womanly signal I had, short of trying to wave the pheromones from my pussy into his nose.

I don't recall exactly what broke the ice, but whatever it was, shortly thereafter I was half-naked on his couch, he was pulling down his briefs (briefs! so adorable), and I got the first pleasant shock of the evening when his cock emerged and he was definitely larger than average, which the tightness of the whiteys hadn't allowed to be evident before. I know, you'd think there would have been a giant bulge, but it looked normal sized until his shaft just kept coming out of his undies.

Still, I was figuring he wasn't going to be an enthusiastic lay, given his need to have The Joy of Sex thrown repeatedly at him. But first off, he ate pussy like a champ. Didn't want a blowjob, just wanted a snack in the box. I came repeatedly, and while I'm fairly easy to get off, repeatedly from oral signifies a better than average time.

Then I thought, okay, he's making sure I get mine and he doesn't want any in return because he's a hair trigger. That's okay. I had totally gotten mine. If he pressed in and came immediately, I would still have called it a good date. But he had stamina. When he got inside me, I had to concentrate on not getting split in two, and then he started slowly thrusting in and out, in and out, until he was bottoming out and then pulling back until just the head was inside me, and I came again, which I expected would maybe signal an end to his performance.

But no. First missionary, then from behind, then he pulled me on top even though I was pretty blissed out by that point and started jackhammering into me from below, and then finally he pulled out and asked politely if I could suck him the rest of the way off, which didn't take too long but was still a respectable finish. Thick, ropey cum, but didn't taste too strong, and then we snuggled for a bit until I felt him getting hard against me again.

I asked him if he needed more, and he seemed a little sheepish, like he was afraid I wouldn't be up for it. I very nearly wasn't, but this was in my younger, more elastic days, and I just helped him into me from behind and we spooned and fucked slowly for what felt like ages until he said he was ready to go off and I just let him go inside me because I was extremely tuckered out by that point.

You may ask why I'm not currently married to this guy. The answer is that we just weren't a good fit in other ways. I set him up with a friend of mine, who thanked me profusely after because she hadn't had to jump through the hoops I did, and we saw each other a few more times in various places, then drifted apart. But that's a nice memory. I wish I'd ridden the train a bit longer than twice, but I got off plenty during those two times.

Now, the less pleasant part of the question. I can think of a few, not as detailed because who wants to remember disappointment. There was a guy in high school who had supposedly bedded every single girl I knew, to hear them tell it he was amazing, and my standards were lower at the time. He was a total dick during our date (I am so glad I've grown out of needing to have a date with someone to fuck them), not to me as much as to the waiter, which is a deal-breaker for me, but I knew he wasn't dating material and I was basically sitting through the previews to get to the movie, as it were.

The movie was terrible. He took me back to his place, his "party pad" where his divorced dad had custody and was never home from work, and we rounded the bases pretty handily, and then I was blowing him and he came in my eye, which doesn't bother me the way it bothers some people but threw me off a little because he didn't warn me at all, just grabbed my head and spewed. And then it took forever to get him hard again, to the point where he had to watch porn to get it up, and then wanted to keep watching the porn while fucking me from behind like I was basically a sex toy. I got off, just, and he barely made it out of me before painting my lower back white. I would have let him cum inside me but Catholic school makes rhythm method practitioners of all its inmates.

That was disappointing to the point that I needed to go home and get fucked by Mike to wash the bad taste out of my mouth (figuratively speaking; I don't think the guy tasted bad or I might not have continued the evening at all).

The other underwhelming experience that comes immediately to mind was in college. There was the drop-dead gorgeous girl who had hinted to me that she was interested in pursuing some experimentation with the fairer sex in the bedroom, and I'm always open for "girl's first lesbianism" parties. She was porn star gorgeous. No, she was model gorgeous. And I wanted to undress her in the worst way. I had seen glimpses of her hidden delights but never the whole package.

Let me tell you, whatever other disappointments I might have had, seeing her naked was not one of them. I suppose I shouldn't have expected much from the rest of it, since it was her first time, but rather than be nervous or excited she was like a cold fish, and then she basically wanted me to eat her out while she lay there and provided no feedback until finally she gasped a few times, then pushed me away and said the evening was over. I wasn't particularly depressed to hear that, honestly, since she'd provided very little in the way of enjoyment for yours truly. I kept the image of her naked in my head for a while though. God, if she'd been at all a good lay, but she wasn't. I guess she decided she didn't really want to sample sapphic bliss after all. I heard from a guy who had fucked her that she wasn't a cold fish with him.

I could probably summon up more, but I'm going to leave it with those. Like I said, disappointments aren't as fun to remember as pleasant surprises, and now I'm wishing I knew where the guy from my first story wound up, and if he was up for a threesome.

I hope this answers your questions, anonymous pal, and thank you for asking them. If you'd like to ask any questions of me, even silly ones, my inbox and comments are always open, and I respect anonymity as you can see.

Flash Fiction Friday Cross-Post

I don't have anything interesting to say other than, once again, my entry for this week's Flash Fiction Friday is up over on the fiction sister-blog. And head over to Max's blog to see his entry, plus links to everyone else who played this week. And then consider joining us next week. It's more fun than any Friday activity involving a keyboard has any right to be.

Boobs!!!

I found this delightful series of questions and thought, well, these answers are good enough to share, but maybe I could also answer them? So I asked, and was granted permission to steal, and now I'm going to give my two cents on boobs and the joys thereof.

15 Questions Folks Want To Ask Girls About Boobs – Answered

1. How sweaty do they get?

In my case, really sweaty, but I'm fairly sweaty. I know, girls aren't supposed to sweat, but let me bust that myth right now: this gal is extremely sweaty. It doesn't smell like much of anything when I sweat, but I am hyperhydrotic (that's a fancy word for "sweats a lot"). My tits don't get any sweatier than the rest of me, I wouldn't say, and I don't have big enough breasts for there to be sweat beneath them, but I do get sweatier between them, I think.

2. How sensitive are they really? Are they more sensitive during certain times of the month?

Mine are medium sensitivity. I like having mine played with a little but no nipping or pinching please, not generally. My nipples get more sensitive as I get aroused, but then after a certain point it seems like they get less sensitive, because I can be in the midst of coitus and be manhandled much more than at the beginning during foreplay. Still, I'm going to echo the original answer here: some things are only for porn, and unless a gal tells you otherwise, biting is one of them. Oh, and after I cum, the sensitivity goes way up for a few minutes. I've had to ask partners to lay off the nipples for a bit.

I don't find my breasts to be more sensitive during certain times of the month (I no longer have periods, but I still have a cycle) as much as they get a little touchy. I don't like anything at certain times that I wouldn't like otherwise, but I also need more warmup at certain times than at others, if that makes sense. I think my nipples swell a little too, but I've never measured.

3. Do you ever find things in there later?

I've stored plenty of small objects in my bra. I don't have such expansive cleavage that I can hold pens between my breasts or anything like that. I did once find an M&M in my cleavage, but that was due to a particularly painful bra that I wore because I desperately wanted to have cleavage at the time. I ate the M&M. It hadn't melted.

4. Do the nipples also grow in size along with the breasts?

If you're asking whether nipples are always proportionate to breast size, no. Not at all. I've met women with less breast than me who had much larger nipples than I do. I've also met women with twice the tit and tiny nipples. It varies.

If you're asking whether, over the course of a woman's life, the nipples grow larger along with the breasts, I can only speak to a handful of women but I think they do. Most prepubescent kids have tiny nipples, and they get bigger during puberty. I'm no expert, but it seems to make sense.

If you're asking whether my nipples get larger when my breasts do, say hormonally or whatever, I don't think it's as much that the nipples grow with the breasts as it is that both breast and nipple growth is prompted by the same causal factors, if that makes sense. And I've never been pregnant, which is the big one here, so I can't speak to that.

5. What makes for a good bra?

Comfort, support, comfort, support, and sexiness. Let's face it guys (and gals, and non-binary pals, who are into breasts): you don't care as much about the sexiness of a bra as you do getting to see the bra in the first place. Like, if you are in the position to get to see a gal (or non-binary pal) in their undergarments, that's a win, whether the bra is sexy or comfortable. You don't care about it as much as you think you do, is what I'm saying. This is real life, not porn.

I don't have that much to support, but I like a little support in my life so while I don't find that to be as important as comfort, I do care about it. The material of the bra, the construction, and the support factor are all about comfort, so I suppose I could just roll all of this into comfort, but I do think that I'll trade off a little comfort for better support. And all other things being equal, I'll take a sexier bra over a boring one.

6. Do bras really suffocate them?

Is this a thing that people believe? No, of course not. Do I think that wearing a bra, particularly when you're more endowed and performing activities which require a little support like running, is a bad thing? No. I wear one all the time, even when I don't necessarily have to. But suffocation? Breasts don't breath. And if your bra is cutting off your breath, you need a different size.

7. Does going bra-less make you feel like a rebel?

Not really. I mean, I'm bra-less a lot at home, but then I'm also naked a lot at home, for no sexy reason, just because.

8. Do you like to play with your boobs?

The best part about being a woman who likes boobs is that I have a pair I can play with whenever I want. So yes, I play with them. I stroke my nipples while I masturbate all the time. I play with them when I'm being eaten out, or being fucked. It's like playing with my clit: I know what I like.

9.  Is one bigger than the other? Do you like one more than the other?

I think one is slightly larger than the other, but it may vary from day to day. I'm pretty symmetrical, which is something I'm glad of I guess. Do I like one more than the other? No. I think I play with my right one more than my left because that's my dominant hand and I usually masturbate using my left hand for whatever reason, probably so I can use the mouse with my right.

10. Are they as scenic for you as they are for us? How often do you notice guys staring at them?

I love breasts. I'm not a "breast man" whose focus is solely on breasts, but I notice them in others, so yes, I enjoy looking down at mine sometimes. I notice guys staring at them all the time (not constantly, but frequently) and frankly as long as there's no harm being done by it, I enjoy the attention a little. I know, I'm incorrigible.

Now, if I'm actively speaking to a guy (or anyone really) and they can't take their eyes off my tits, I might be slightly offended, or I might take it as a sign that I should pursue the relationship in a different direction. Don't think that this is permission to stare at my chests while talking to me. I don't usually take it that well.

But I can't really complain about being ogled because I ogle. I try to do it discreetly and I meet eyes when necessary, but if the object of my ogling can't see me, I look. But that I don't look principally at breasts. I like other parts of the anatomy as well.

11. Do you have a series of bras for every possible occasion or article of clothing?

I couldn't afford that. I have a bra for darks, a bra for lights, a strapless which sees very little use because I rarely wear gowns, and a sports bra. That's my usual rotation. Then I have a bunch of frippery that I only wear to ignore my advice about sexiness in bras not being a big deal. I wouldn't wear any of them if I thought I wouldn't be showing them off shortly thereafter, sometimes because they would show up under a lot of my tops, and sometimes because they're just uncomfortable. I also have more than a few items of clothing which don't need a bra either because I don't bother or because there's support built in.

12. Do you think there’s such a thing as an ideal-size breast?

No. Everyone is different. Some people like a handful, some people want to be able to motorboat, some people like nothing at all. I vary day to day, though I think Sveta's breasts are my ideal for the purposes of this discussion, and hers are C/D depending on the brand.

13. Is having such sensitive nipples a blessing and a curse?

I mean, mine aren't so sensitive that bumping them into something causes me to cry out in ecstasy. They're probably more sensitive than the average man's nipples, but I've never had the average man's nipples so I can only assume. I don't think they're either a blessing or a curse, really.

14. Don’t they feel like a big burden on your chest?

I have small tits, so for me, no. I know Sveta sometimes says she wishes hers were smaller, and I know my sister Sheri, who has tits for days, sometimes has back problems because of her posture, but a big burden? Not big enough that either of them would accept breast reduction surgery if it were offered to them gratis, shall we say. I know some women for whom that's not true, but every woman is different.

15. How, I repeat, how do you manage to get a bra on and off every day?

Spin it around and then pull it up. That's not the difficult part; being single and wearing gowns which zip up the back is Hell. I also have a fair amount of practice at getting bras off from the front of other people (bisexuality for the win!) so I can reach behind myself and get the clasps undone with a minimum of fuss, but why would I when you can just slip the bra down and then spin it around to attack it from the front? I know that doesn't help people who've got to take my bra off while kissing me (sorry honey) but that's what I do daily.

There's everything I know about boobs. Now go fetch Grandma another bourbon.

Pregnancy

My anonymous reader from last time continues: "Also, way back when, you talked about how sexy it would be to be pregnant. Have you and Sveta decided against kids? If so, why? (Your dad having his granddaughter for the first time would be just . . . fucking hot.)"

I still think pregnancy is sexy as hell, but unfortunately for my chances at it, they had to take out the requisite parts. When I learned that they'd have to, for a while I was crushed because yeah, there was always a part of me which wished that I could not only get pregnant but get pregnant by my father, have a girl, and hopefully have him teach her the way he taught me. But the rational part of me knew that there was very little chance of that, both medically and because I don't think Dad would go for that. He might have shown his granddaughter the ropes, but my parents have both made it pretty clear that they think family getting family pregnant is not the greatest idea.

So that's me. As for Sveta, while she would be hot as hell pregnant (and again, there's always a chance that Dad and Mom might look differently on him donating his sperm to the cause of us having a child if it was Sveta who'd be having the baby), we've decided, for various reasons, that children aren't for us. If there were a responsible way for Sveta to get pregnant but not have a baby at the end of it, we'd discuss it, but there isn't.

Sveta and I both have the usual drives, physically, so she sometimes gets a little baby crazy and we wish, but money and the world pretty much make it impossible. I know she'd want my Dad to be the father, and maybe if not him Mike, but she's, if anything, less interested in children than I am.

And then there's Zoe, who is not part of the family but is around often enough that if she got knocked up Sveta and I would get to reap the benefits, preggo-porn-wise. If Zoe were at all interested in guys at the moment, I have no doubt that she'd already be pregnant because she seems irresponsible enough to think that was a good idea. Sorry, I don't mean to sound mean, but she's kind of... impulsive about things like that.

I'm not saying that I wouldn't love to see Zoe all glowing and swollen. My partnerships with the pregnant have been few and far between, and I would love to have that opportunity. But it would not be a good idea for Zoe. And fortunately for everyone, she is currently militantly lesbian. Her last boyfriend was not good for her and women seem to have worked out better for her, at least in the pleasure department, so she's off guys at present, possibly permanently.

The state of the world is one reason why I don't think I want kids. Our monetary situation is another. And frankly, I don't like kids that much. I like the idea of pregnancy but I'd probably dislike the practicalities of it too. I know, plenty of people who don't like kids like their children, and if I miraculously gave birth to a child I wouldn't abandon it in the gutter or something horrible like that, but both Sveta and I are pretty content without children.

Sorry that's less sexy than it could be. Believe me, we still watch preggo porn sometimes, and I still get off on impregnation play, but it's just play.

Thank you for asking questions, and hopefully my less-than-stellar answers haven't put you off. If anyone out there has any questions or requests, I've got a tag for them and everything and I love to get them, so email or comment. Do it! Do it now!

TMI Tuesday

Barely made it this week because I had a long day yesterday and then plum forgot today. But here they are, fresh from my brain and the TMI Tuesday Blog.

1. Covid dating behavior:
– Are you choosier?

Yes, in the sense that I am not dating or seriously seeing anyone these days other than people with whom I already had an outstanding relationship.

– Are you less choosy?

Yes, in the sense that I would currently jump pretty much anyone's bones if they could prove that we weren't likely to spread infectious diseases. What can I say? I miss my outings.

– Are you more frank and up front about what you want?

I haven't really had much opportunity to test this one way or the other. I might be, I guess. I would probably not require much foreplay from a prospective conquest, shall we say.

2. What is stable in your life? Answer Yes or No as in “yes, this is stable” or “no this is not stable”. Elaborate if you wish.
– Job

Stable in that I know I'll have a job tomorrow, which is something that many people can't say, but unstable because it's gig work and I never know when I'll be working, or if the place will get closed down by a new variant of COVID.

– Finances

Hahahahahahahaha*snort*hahahahahahahahaha*choke*hahahaha*gasp*ha.

– Romantic relationship

Pretty damn stable. I'm married to my best friend. If we're not traditional, we're stable.

– Economy of your country

Howls of derisive laughter. Except I don't really know. Money line go up, money line go down, it's all the same to me, really. I keep hearing things which lead me to suspect that money line go down in the near future, so you can take that monetary policy to the bank.

– Mental health

Shockingly more stable than I've been in a while. Needs improvement, but I've managed to write at least one blog post a week for months now so I'd say I'm doing pretty well.

– Physical health

Meh. Could be worse. Has been worse. I don't know what "stable" really means in this context, but things aren't changing rapidly in the physical health department. Of course that knocking sound you hear is me knocking wood so hard I'm leaving dents in it.

3. Have you lived in a different country than the one you were born? Did you have to learn the language?

I haven't. I'm sweetly parochial. I've never been more than a drive (albeit a long drive) from my place of birth.

4. Can you speak any other languages?

I used to be able to speak passable high school French but I've forgotten most of it because I never use it. I can read a little Russian but my speaking of it is not as good because I want to read it more than I want to speak it. I know POW Camp German from WWII studies and movies. I can order food in Spanish and Hindi. Other than that, I used to know just enough Latin to know that I didn't know anything about Latin but could use it to understand the roots of words, and I know a smattering of words shared by various romance languages. Oh, and I can say "Hello" in Mandarin. So, tl;dr, no.

5. How do you manage your fears?

I don't? Medication? Um, okay, so I can manage my fear of some things because I have to do them. Like heights. I hate heights, but if I'm working and I have to climb a ladder, I'm up there with everyone else. I'm like Charles Bronson's character in The Great Escape, who is an expert tunneler but when he's not working he's claustrophobic. I'm also slightly claustrophobic, and I'm not at all sure I could be an expert tunneler.

Bonus: What would you pick to add to your coffee, Baileys, Amaretto, or Whisky/Whiskey?

Amaretto is delightful in coffee. If you're going to add whiskey to coffee, I feel it should be bourbon, but I'm out of the habit of drinking brown liquor to the point where I don't like the taste any more, so I'm going with delightful almond coffee. Or Godiva chocolate liqueur (I cannot spell "liqueur" without looking it up). Or both. Really, why limit yourself? Add some Bailey's, some brown liquor of some sort, whipped cream vodka, floor tiles, bouncer's shoes, and backseat of a taxi cab... wait, that's where you'll throw up. Know your limits. A dash of Amaretto is probably mine at this point.