Jun 172010

Two years.

500 posts.


386,000 visitors to my site.

~1,000 subscribers to my feed.

80 sex toy / sexy fun items reviewed.

4 trips to NYC, 1 trip to Seattle, and 1 upcoming calendar.

3 projects – e[lust], the sex blogger co-op and toyswap network.

Countless awesome peers, acquaintances, friendlies and supportive friends that I wouldn’t have without this blog? Priceless.

I’m in a different place than I was a year ago. Some things for better, some things….not. But I’m still grateful. I’m finally able to do things like my side projects to give a little back to the community that’s given me so much. I’m still learning, I’m still growing. I’ve hit some very recent number milestones and I’ve got this mild obsession with numbers and statistics. The 500 posts and just last week hitting 1000 readers tickles me.

Thank you for having me.

On a side note, if you’ve happened to enjoy me & my blog, consider nominating me for the 2010 Sexy Bloggers list, along with your other favorite sexy bloggers.

Aug 252009

It is rare these days to be in a dressing room that has curtains instead of doors. At first this made me insecure and paranoid that I wouldn’t get it closed just so. The curtain was very heavy so luckily it would not get disturbed by a breeze created by someone else going past it in the hallway. It was a T-shaped section in the middle of the store. In the front of the T were a few chairs, a large mirror, and exit doorways on either side. Going down the length of a short hallway were the dressing rooms. I was in the very first room closest to the chairs and exit.

I was surrounded by so many things in my little room, I just gathered up as much stuff in one run as possible. A few dresses, a few tops, a bunch of bras. After trying on the tops I found one I really liked but found that perhaps it would be more flattering in a different size. So out I went to grab a different one. As I padded back in and stopped to examine the one I had on in the large mirror, a cute guy sitting in one of the chairs complemented me quietly that the color was good for me. As I headed back into my little room his wife/girlfriend came to model her outfit for him. As I was trying on the second dress, a woman with a large armful of clothes swooped down the hallway, hangers sticking out and one or two heavily brushed my curtain. Apparently enough to make it move a little. I was left with a 2″ gap but I was all tangled up in the dress and unable to do anything about it. I got it on and fretted in the mirror over how it looked on me. I remembered the curtain and turned to seal that gap; as my hand went up I noticed the waiting guy staring right at me. Very boldly.

Startled and embarrassed I jumped back, my heart racing. Wondering what he saw. Feeling self conscious of my body. In a minute my adrenaline rush cleared and I peered out cautiously. Yet again his girl was out there twirling for his opinion. She was about my size, so I guess he wasn’t offended by my body. She headed back to her room and I leaned back so as not to be noticed by her. When I peered out again I saw him watching my space and he offered a tentative, flirtatious smile.

Well. Huh. Now what.

I left the curtain where it was.

From there on out, every move I made I was conscious that I might have an audience of one. When I started trying on my bras, I wore only my panties. When I needed to try on the next bra, I bent over in a way and spot that ensured he’d get a glimpse. I completely ignored him; did my best, in fact, to pretend I didn’t realize he was watching. Every moment that ticked by I got a little more bold. He got eye-fulls of unbound breasts. If I were a thinner girl and more confident in my body I’d like to think I’d have been full-on brazen. Given him a deliberate show. A mini striptease, perhaps. Or more…..

As it were, I kept up the charade until I was done and about to get dressed.  Standing there completely bare chested I faced the curtain as I was putting on my jeans and as I did I saw him staring yet again – and I caught his gaze this time, on purpose. He was no longer casually leaned back in his chair, now he was bent forward, forearms resting on his thighs.  I looked at him with a level gaze that didn’t betray either direction – if I was upset or if I was enjoying it.  I guess the fact that I stood there and did nothing to block his view was a positive enough reaction for him to feel he was free to break eye contact and openly stare at my tits.  I let him for a minute, then stepped back to get dressed and gather my things. As I opened the curtain and walked out I shyly looked at him from under my lashes; he winked and grinned and I couldn’t help but smile back.

I think I’m going to check out my local Craigslist – the “missed connections” section. It’s a long shot, but who knows….

Aug 092009

At the beginning of my sophomore year of college I worked for the school paper doing photography. Since I was the only one of the photographers with good darkroom experience, it was my domain. My escape. My quiet corner of darkness. I knew what I was doing in there, the chemicals didn’t bother me and I could be there for hours. Also at this time I was enjoying a brief period of the singleton life and having fun. Perhaps a little too much fun.

I actually had access to two different darkrooms on opposite ends of the campus. One in a standard classroom building, the other in the student union near the office for the paper. I had keys to these places but my access was limited to the hours of the buildings.

My darkroom didn’t have furniture really, nothing to sit on except for one classroom style chair. I never had time to sit when I was printing, anyways. My boytoy of the time accompanied me one night to the office and darkroom inside the student union building; I had wanted to quickly develop and print a few photos taken that evening. In the eerie darkness of the red room, he started teasing me while the third and final print was in the developer tray. One minute of kissing my neck. He stopped while I moved to the stop bath tray. 20 seconds of pinching my nipples. Fixer tray next, there he spent about 2 minutes kissing me. Finally, the wash, where he spent 4 minutes letting his hands roam and tease under my clothing. During all of this I couldn’t do anything – my hands had chemicals on them, and I couldn’t let the photo paper just sit there in tranquil liquids. As I hung the photo up to dry, he stripped down to nakedness. As I washed my hands thoroughly, he stripped me from the waist down. After my hands were dry I threw off my remaining clothes as quickly as I could because he was waiting for me. Sitting on the chair, condom already on, waiting for me to climb onto his lap and impale myself on his cock.

We no sooner started fucking before I remembered the time; a glance at his watch showed that it was 12:50 – the security guard would be around soon to check that this hallway and these offices were empty. Fine except for one thing – the light outside my darkroom door, visible if you peered into the glass door of the office. The light that clearly indicated that the darkroom was in use. The only way to shut off that light was to shut off my red safety light. I locked the door for good measure and slowly inched my way back to him. While it is visually appealing to see your naked partner’s body and face during sex, there is also something to be said for relying on quiet vocal cues and touching.

Shortly before 1am we heard the guard enter the outer office. Our hearts pounding, we ceased all movement and listened. Or rather, we tried to cease all movement. I started rocking on his lap, just barely. A marginal amount of stimulation, more tantric than anything else. We heard the guard walk to the door of the darkroom; his hands on my hips led me to increase my movements to be a little bit faster and a little bit deeper as the guard tried to turn the handle to darkroom. I held my breath, hoping the guard wouldn’t feel the need to use his keys and open the door. He didn’t. The sound of footsteps grew more distant until we heard the sound of the office door closing. Suddenly he roughly grasped my hips and started pistoning his hips, fucking me as hard and as fast as possible. The huge risk of getting caught tipped us both over the edge, fast.

Did I mention that when the Union closed, I had to be gone as well? You could get in pretty big trouble with campus security otherwise, plus the doors were locked. You couldn’t even get out without setting off the alarm.

We had 5 hours before the Union would be open again. In those 5 hours we fucked everywhere. We started off in the dark office; on the floor, on some editor’s desk. To be cute we each sat naked on the photocopier and copied our asses. Mine showed a portion of my pussy, just the slit but it was obvious what you were seeing (we had other things on our minds that night and ended up forgetting about these – they were found the next day. No, I never owned up to it). At some point we got dressed to leave the office area and hung out in one of the common areas where there were couches and chairs. We ended up fucking there, too. Always slightly paranoid with one ear listening for the sounds of a night guard. Around 4am we were laying on the floor behind a pool table, shadows covering us completely. We were tired but couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves. His fingers in my cunt, my hand wrapped around his cock, and a guard walking the hallway just 15 feet away with no wall to separate us. We slowed but we didn’t stop; neither did the guard.

At dawn we got dressed and plotted our escape so that the guard wouldn’t know we had been there all night. We got out safely and headed to the nearest dorm room where we slept the day away, tired and sore.

Jul 262009

She will occasionally send me photos. Sexy photos. Cute photos. Beautiful photos.

But it is her husband that will send me the naughty photos. The downright dirty photos. The pervy photos.

Her husband will send me life-size close-up photos of her beautiful cunt and it makes my own cunt ache. It makes my tongue and lips ache to be on her. (It made me wet and it made me come hard)

Her husband will invite me to watch them over webcam, naked and beautiful.

While she is my friend and we are vocally mutually interested in each other, it is her husband that indulges the horny pervert in me.

Will I whisper in her husband’s ear, in the noisy bar, “Does your wife want to kiss me?”

Will I ask her husband, before I check for myself, “Is your wife wearing any panties?”

While her husband watches guard, I will sneak my hand up under her skirt and tease her clit while we’re surrounded by people.

While her husband kisses her neck, I will kiss her lips.

Before my lips assault her naked body, I will ask her husband what she likes. I will ask him to show me how.

Before I fuck her with one of the toys they have, I will ask her husband to guide my hand. To show me how deep and how fast and how hard.

Can you tell I’m anxious to meet my beautiful, sexy friend……and her husband?

Apr 072009

It seems that my dominant side is never the most prevalent. But when it does come out to play….I feel ruthless. Bitch extraordinaire. I have not had any experience dominating a woman be it in person or virtually, but I’ve already discussed (here and with others) my desire to do so.

I also must point out that I’ve never been much of a fan of the humiliation aspect of D/s, either receiving or doling out. Something more sinister, however, has popped up inside of me lately and I am finding myself aroused by the strangest things. A few weeks ago, at a meeting at work for our new unit assignments, the group was asked to do the school-classroom bullshit of “stand up and tell us about yourself”. Let it be known that I hate this. I am not comfortable speaking in front of people, even in such a casual setting. So I felt for this girl, I really did. She appears to be younger than me; pretty in a cute and “I’m trying to look cool” way. Perhaps someone I might be friends with. From my vantage point behind her and to her right, I was able to glance at her occasionally. When she stood up to speak each time, I noticed that she blushed furiously. She did not stammer, she did not show any other outward signs of feeling awkward. But I thought that the blushing was very cute. I think, partly, because at first glance her body language, style, etc was more “I’m cooler than you and this is all so lame” – but oh, what do we have here….vulnerability. Shyness.

I have read erotica- male narrator, shy and blushing female subject – of the similar nature. The man is dominating, domineering, pushy and delighting in her awkwardness. Aware that beneath the fear and nervousness lies arousal. I did not want to be in the shoes of the female, no, I think I more wanted to be the aggressor.

In my past fantasies of dominating a woman, I was never alone. It was a threesome. Perhaps a shared toy between a dominant and I. Perhaps a shared toy between a submissive man and I. But always, he was involved. I might have had the reigns of control but he was active in it. The fantasy has changed, morphed or perhaps I just have another one. He doesn’t participate. Instead, he watches passively. An audience. Another element to heighten her embarrassment and shyness.

I’ll be ruthless, while the one who trained me watches with pride. I will show her precious size 6 little ass no fucking mercy. As she is bent in half in a standing-hogtied sort of way, her cunt is bared to me like a split peach. I can easily go from inflicting pain on her ass to her cunt.

But no….that only satisfies part of my desire. I wanna make her squirm. Blush. Cry. I want to break her.

I don’t want a slut who’s at ease with her sexuality. I don’t want a whore who’s been around this block a time or two. I want a girl who cringes when sex words roll off her tongue. I want to make her say cunt and clit and suck and nipple and fuck and I want her to blush while she says this stuff. Tease her with these words and the pain (the bittersweet raw pain) and the begging until she’s crying.

She enjoys it though. Beneath the blushing and the cringing and the crying and the whimpering and the pink-red skin from my slapping and flogging she is dripping wet and aroused beyond belief. And that’s why I’ll love it, that’s what will fuel me to dig deeper. Before I break her, before she’ll full-on beg to come all over my hand, I’ll torture her. I’ll have to. Leave her at the edge of her orgasm…..make her watch me get fucked (and loving it) from my Dom. Taunt her with my orgasm. It’s going to be hard for her to watch, her instinct will be to turn her head but I won’t let her.

I want to watch the boiling point of her arousal and humiliation come to a head and erupt. At my command, at my hand. I want to break her…..and laugh at her misery. An evil giggle, a demeaning chuckle.

I’ve got a few things/issues/grievances/hurts of late that I need to take out on some poor girl. I just need to find a suitable one. Now accepting applications….

Feb 222009





Coating my tongue

Dripping down my chin

I lick it from my lips and fingers

It is simple and luxurious, sinful and decadent.

It is over too soon and I cry for more.


I sin equally in sex as I do in food. My breakfast concoction this weekend and Sunday night’s dinner are like pure sin on the tongue. The silky gorgeous mouthfeel of high-fat-content dairy foods is really in the top 3 of sinful food. Melted sweet cream cheese; cream sauces; runny warm egg yolks. Just fucking divine.


Oh, I’m sorry. What did you think I was talking about??

You want sexy food? I got it, right here. And I’m going to share it.

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