Jan 312013
 

Military men have this distasteful habit of sharing nude photos of women who they feel have done them wrong. It’s often in a texting chain, and titled, “Make Her Famous”, with only a picture of the naked woman. The other men may not even know who the woman is, who she supposedly wronged, or how many others have already seen it; they absent-minded forward it to everyone they know in the military before even looking at the picture themselves. Another way that military men share pictures is when they’re deployed, it’s called a “Dear John” or other-named wall in which actual printed pictures are posted. Oftentimes, the higher ranking people are not aware of where it is (as it’s encouraged or acceptable), and yet it exists at every deployed area.

Now, these men have plenty of access to porn and pictures, both in and out of the workplace. “They aren’t about naked girls; there are plenty of those who are on the internet consensually. It’s about hating women, taking enjoyment in seeing them violated, and harming them… , usually with the complicity of someone they trusted. The whole point is to humiliate, but not just to humiliate; to violate.” (http://yesmeansyesblog.wordpress.com/2013/01/29/revenge-porn-and-the-women-humiliation-industry/). These were women who trusted their partners with photos. Being intimate alone with someone requires trust, and yet sending them a picture requires even more trust for many (myself included).  And the forced separation from military men, for whatever reason, lends itself to more nude photo transfers than most couples (at least in my experience).

Now in the blog, Yes Means Yes, it is argued that this is mostly true of women, “because as a society we don’t think it’s inherently degrading or humiliating for men to have sex. Despite the fact that large numbers of women watch porn, there are apparently not large numbers of women who find sexual gratification in publicly shaming and demeaning men they’ve slept with.” The blog also shed a new perspective to me in that: “We have a society with a tremendous tolerance for coercion and people can sit around thinking up all the times when it might be okay for someone to be sexualized against their will…[but] we’re better off starting from the proposition that sexualizing the unwilling is always a sexual assault before we entertain questions of intent and mistake and exception.”

And it is true, these women are not allowing the men they trusted to forward their pictures to serve as a “warning: stay away” to the other guys, most often they are not even aware that their pictures are being viewed so publicly, and in a negative and hostile way. Revenge porn and celebrity-caught-photos do  the same thing-share a visual that they are not agreeing to. Anne Hathaway was quoted in two blogs recently (both blogs are mentioned in this blog) that: “I’m sorry that we live in a culture that commodifies sexuality of unwilling participants.”

What’s odd about the whole military men showing nude women photos is that they are (as a whole) incredibly quick to share their own cock photos with a new partner (or one that they barely even know, or heck, haven’t even met). I would think that they would be more cautious, or untrusting, of sharing. And perhaps it isn’t as shameful for the man’s picture to shown in our society, or that they trust that women won’t humiliate, because they most often don’t.

But I know of a group of women who do. Because military men are so eager to share photos of their male parts, this group of women share it with the phone number, only if the men give an unsolicited penis picture. The girls will then critique his penis and let him know what they think. The argument being, “because if the man wanted to have his penis seen so bad, then they help him.” An example I was given was:

Male: How’s your pizza? Here’s my penis! (Yep, sadly that’s all it takes for some (military) men.)

First woman: one word: manscaping

Another woman: why do men always take pictures from on the toilet? You couldn’t take it somewhere romantic like…like the garbage dump?

Perhaps these men don’t mind as much because, “men’s shame usually centers on not appearing weak while women’s shame often revolves around not being perfect,” (http://www.charlieglickman.com/2013/01/what-revenge-porn-tells-us-about-sex-and-humiliation). These pictures do not necessarily make the man feel weak, at least, not until this group of women send back comments, and possibly not even then. This line may seem blurrier as far as betraying trust, because the women didn’t ask or even want the pictures, but the sharing of them to someone other than the intended  recipient is still about humiliating and violating; women are not above this.



YesMeans Yes ponders,  “if the culture tells my kids that it’s hot and exciting to violate a woman’s boundaries with a camera, what lesson will they take about violating a woman’s body with a body”? Charlie Glickman suggests, “but maybe it’s time that we take a look at how many ways we create a culture in which their behavior is simply a more extreme version of some behaviors that we don’t even notice anymore”.  We are certainly a culture that views private parts “private”, gets a thrill out of catching a celebrity unknowingly revealing more than intended, and constantly creating new sites for the “revenge” pictures and/or porn.  I am not sure of a solution. An adult trusting pictures of themselves to a lover is very different than a person knowingly and acceptingly posting or publishing pictures of themselves; and there is no shame – regardless of what a person looks like (body image is another topic for another day) – to publicly and willingly share. But to use the images for malicious intent, or to share if it is someone other than you or not given explicit permission, is an absolute harmful violation. I know that previous partners’ pictures I’ve either destroyed, given back, or still hold privately for only my viewing pleasure. Certainly, that is part of the solution.  And to not feed/buy into the sensationalism of magazines, websites, other media who thrive on the commodity of an unwilling participant, demonstrates that it’s unacceptable.  



As for my military man? He deletes the pictures forwarded  to him, at least not perpetuating the problem. It’s a small step, but most movements begin with a small step (take the sex blogging community sharing the recent plagiarism/copyright issue with another blogger).

 Posted by at 7:06 pm
Jan 292013
 

There it was, laying in tatters at my feet. I didn’t know how I was reduced to this… I didn’t know how I had gotten myself in this position. Or maybe I did.

I was ready to beg him; no, plead. I was ready and more than willing to make a deal with the devil to have all of him, and yet be consumed. There were so many things that he, this man, held that I wanted. I wanted his love and desire. I wanted his heart and his mind. I wanted him in my mouth.

There I lay, trussed up, on my back, on my bed. Wearing rope as lovely as silk garments, seeing his dick, throbbing hard in front of my face and I was consumed with want of it. I wanted to feel it slide past my lips, I wanted to taste the very essence of him. I wanted to have him fuck me senseless and with a fierceness to match my own.

His compliment, “You look lovely right now” as tears course down my face, I’m bound and helpless, my ass glowing red from the punishment it has just received.

My plea, “please”.

“Please”.

So much meaning and passion raging behind one simple word. I was screaming with this one word: “here is my pride, my heart, my being! Take it! It is yours. My will, my control, take it!”

“You’ve been a good girl, I suppose I should reward you…” He lovingly runs his hand along my tear stained cheek then finally let’s me capture my prize with my mouth. Watering, waiting to taste. It is finally mine. It is worth it. The wait, the teasing. He knows how to drive me to peaks and push me right to the edge. Just when I am about to fall, to crack, to break, he catches me and soothes me and brings me fulfillment.

I get what I want that day. All of it. I was filled with him in my mouth, I was turned over and thrust into release. I more fully captured his heart and while I may have been bound and he in control, he was now bound to me more firmly than before.

I have no need of pride in the face of such things, and I more than willingly give it up.

Wicked Wednesday

 Posted by at 8:59 pm
Jan 292013
 

1. Describe your or a lover’s penis with a movie title.
Deep Impact, Big Daddy
I couldn’t choose just one. The only thing about the second title is that “daddy” is never a term that I can think in. But when I think of him, I think of the size. Seriously, the first time I saw him, I was concerned, and intimadated. Now I love the feeling of fulfillment, and will tell him when he needs to take it easy, start slower, or not as deep.  To avoid hurting me, we have a rule that both of us can’t be drunk, or we can only have sex in a certain position if we’re both drinking (which never happens, but it’s a good plan).

2. Describe your pussy or a lover’s pussy with a movie title.
 Little Box of Sweets
Well, it’s hard to not think of myself and think of the adjective “little” considering that I am overall small.  And I taste delicious.

3. Describe your last sexual encounter with a song title.
“I’ve Been Loving You Too Long” Otis Redding
I kept begging him to cum, but it was a night where that just wasn’t happening. Meanwhile, I delighted in so many orgasms that it became surreal-and exhausting. There were moments when I forgot to breathe and he had to remind me. It was ridiculous, and amazing.

4. Describe your body with a song title.
“Flesh for Fantasy” Billy Idol
My lover’s favorite part is my hourglass figure, but I don’t know of a title that contains that word (just googled it, there are several). But even as much as I appreciate my curves, I love my entire body – it allows me to feel glorious things. My skin can get so sensitive after orgasm (like last night), and I relish in touch and sensations.

5. Describe your sexual appetite with a book, song, or movie title.
“Always on my Mind” Pet Shop Boys
My male friends say that I “think like a man”; clearly they don’t read too many blogs or get to know the ladies of this community. I have a fixation with sex, and unless I’m working or totally engaged in another task, I am thinking about sex, and my lover, and all the things we have done or could do.

Bonus: Recommend your favorite sexy, sensual or kink oriented book.
I just finished Just Watch Me and am now reading Dirty Girls: Erotica for Women

TMI Tuesday How to play: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

 Posted by at 12:51 am
Jan 252013
 

I didn’t mean to become their Morale officer… Seriously, it was unintentional.

In military lingo, a “Morale officer” is a woman who has sexual relations with the unit… THE WHOLE UNIT.

Now, it wasn’t as bad as all that, however I did sleep my way through their enlisted command structure, just in time for deployment.

It was a complete, sexy, lascivious accident. When Ex and I broke up, we had been together for almost 6 years… OF COURSE I HAD A SLUT FEST! My sex life with Ex was horrible. It rarely happened, there was no foreplay, and we had premature ejaculation problems that we never did work around. That was a glaring deficit in our relationship.

I first met One right after I decided I could no longer be in my relationship. It was a hard choice to make and took a very long time to make it. I was depressed, downtrodden, and completely lost. One night I went out with a girlfriend and we saw a man she knew. He was 6’8 to my 5 ft and exuded sex. There really wasn’t a question about where I was going that night. In fact, my friend arranged everything because all I could do was stare and fantasize.  After 6 years, going home with One was like being a teenager again.

One of the things that frustrated me about my previous sex life was that Ex always treated me like I was breakable, when all I wanted was to be manhandled. I could tell instantly, One didn’t think I was breakable and if he did then he wanted me to shatter. He tossed me around like a rag doll, made me do what HE wanted, and if I said “ow” he ignored it unless I asked him to stop… I didn’t ask him to stop much. The sex was incredible and lasted forever. Round after round of virile foreplay, sex, breath, repeat. I went home with some small bruises and a huge grin. He was just what I needed at the time and helped me reclaim my own sexuality.

After a time I started dating again and I met this great guy Two. We spent a lot of time together having fun, drinking with friends, and acting young. Then I finally took him to bed….That was the end of that relationship. At one point during the sex I wanted to tell him to put his pants back on, and for God’s sake stop making that noise! After evaluating my 6 year relationship I decided I would never compromise on sex again.

Two had introduced my best friend Ava to one of his friends, so while I was no longer seeing Two I was seeing his friend regularly with Ava. We’d all go out and different people would join our group. That’s how I was introduced me to Staff Sargent (truly, that’s all I knew him by). Rawr. The man was a glorious package of wit, rippling muscle, and rock hard desire. He tied me to my bed with my satin ties and worked my body over for hours. When he finally untied me I rode him hard and had orgasm after orgasm. We broke my bed that night. It was casual sex at it’s finest and I wouldn’t take it back for the world.

Ava and her man got along pretty well so he was a recurring part of our lives for a few months. Their relationship was casual, but ongoing. While his unit was getting ready for deployment the amount of time spent out increased. The ladies of my group had no complaint about joining in the fun. We were all out enjoying the entertainment to be had at one of or local stripclubs when I met The Boot. The term “Boot” is used in a derogatory way by more seasoned veterans about people who have just graduated from boot camp.

The kid was 19, had graduated boot camp the week prior, and was going on a very dangerous deployment, with no experience or time in the unit,  the following week. He also apparently had a huge crush on me. Ava’s friend broached the subject with me and I told him that if The Boot wanted to talk to me then he should, you know, talk. I was advised candidly: “go easy on him, he’s probably not coming back from this deployment. He’s either going to get killed, or get someone else killed.”
… Uh.

I had no idea how to respond to that especially after I had this adorable young guy so shyly try to start a conversation and pick up an older, more seasoned woman who would probably eat him alive in bed.
I did the only thing I could do.

I rocked that young Boot’s world so hard he couldn’t walk straight. I blew him until his knees went out, I asked about his fantasies and immediately went about trying to fulfill as many as I could. You want to bring a vibrator into bed? Go for it! On top  on bottom, in front of the mirror, pull my hair, smack my ass until it’s glowing red? Sure thing! He was young, inexperienced, and not the best lay I’d had. If not for their deployment, I probably wouldn’t have brought him home. How though, could I have said no? It didn’t hurt anyone, and at least this way he was leaving with an incredible night to remember when stuck out there for months.

The day before they were set to deploy Ava and I ran into her man at the club. We also ran into One from months before. They were together…they were in the same unit. Along with Staff Sargent and The Boot and Two….

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. No one knew. And it was only then that even I realized I had slept with FOUR men in the same UNIT. While it may have been over the course of 6 months, during the course of their 6 months deployment the chances were zero that they wouldn’t all figure out that I had slept my way down their command structure.

Sure enough, upon their return I found out that everyone knew. I was the units’ Morale Officer. Everyone just kind of found it humorous, and in fact a couple of them asked for return visits; I declined. Now whenever some hot military man in this town approaches me, there’s a tiny voice in the back of my head praying he’s not with this particular unit. When it has happened, I decline developing a relationship. Let me be a legend then, of a deployment, that had a few men a bit more relaxed before they left.

 Posted by at 5:26 pm
Jan 232013
 

I go in waves with my sexual desire.

Now, keep in mind I want it at least once a day every day, but sometimes I want it NOW NOW NOW, all day long. I’ve been the girl that sent the text saying: “I’ve been up for 3 hours and I’ve already gotten off 5 times… I love my new vibrator!”

I’ve also had days where I just don’t really feel like anything. It always seems to be a block of days for each though.

I’m curious if everyone is like this?

I do know I binge on sex when I get a new partner. It’s like, “you mean I can finally have sex!” I’ve constantly had to warn partners that they will not be able to keep up with me and that’s ok. I’ll be disappointed and pout, but just as long as they’re willing to at least try, we’ll be ok.

For some reason every man sees this as a challenge. Then after a day, maybe two, they admit defeat. Truly, no one CAN keep up. I understand the cause of this wave: it’s a new toy, all pretty and shiny, of course I want to play with him. And I do settle down, as long as I get to see him regularly, and have sex on those occasions, I’ll settle into 3 times a day instead of three times an hour. However, outside of this cause, there are many other times I go through these waves with no discernable pattern.

Perhaps something I’ll have to start taking notice of more closely. I’d definitely like to hear other’s opinions…

Wicked Wednesday

 Posted by at 9:05 pm
Jan 222013
 

I am educated. And yet when I try to compose these blogs, my verb tenses switch. I am aware of it long after the fact.

I think my issue is that I am remembering (and how lucky am I that it’s not fiction?!) and imagining it again so vividly that it seems to be my present moment. As frustrating as it is to my verbs, it’s so pleasant to relieve and relish , so much so that I can turn myself on just in the recollection.

I will endeavor to work on my verbs, and my lover will continue to work on giving me the material.

 Posted by at 7:45 pm
Jan 182013
 

A writing prompt “March Madness-sex with an athlete” made me think that I have sex with an athlete quite often. He is amazingly fit: he can carry someone across enemy lines, run for distances and speed if need be while being bogged down in weighty gear, can do pull-ups with ease, lift ammo cans, squat and shoot a rifle. I can think of no one more athletic that I am honored to be with than a man who commits his body to his country, to shed sweat and tears and blood for it. But he is just not athletic because his job requires it: he also is a runner by nature, loves to swim, and cycle.

The sexier side of him can lift me easily up for a kiss, or to manipulate me where he wants me. My legs can wrap around his small waist, my arms can barely (heck I may not be able to do this, and if he were around, I’d test it) wrap around his broad chest or shoulders. My eyes can feast of the visual image of his arm muscles bulging when he is braced above me, can feel the ripples of muscles under my fingertips as he moves in and out of me.

The downside to having sex with this amazing archetype of athletic man, is that he is gone for long periods of time, doing his duty to his first mistress: our country. This is a story about needing and greeting him back into my own arms…

As I drift off to sleep, I remember the day’s events that have wrung me emotionally dry. The lack of sleep the night before with anxiety and anticipation. The moments of giddy thinking about getting a chance to see you. Hours spent grooming, shaving, shampooing, brushing, straightening, curling, spraying, spritzing, changing. I was a nervous wreck at the thought of seeing you. Laughter, encouragement, compliments from friends were lost in the fog, voices seemingly far away, my own apprehension amplifying the concern from within rather than the reality outward. I don’t remember the drive there.


My emotions spiraled out, sense was disoriented, expectation unreasonable, tangled hopes, exaggerated emotions. And then the moment came, and the world was still, and all of the many people surrounding me ceased to exist as suddenly men poured out, so similar in dress and manner that I panicked that I wouldn’t find you. But I did, and my breath caught and my heart stopped, time dragged slowly as we struggled our way to each other. And then I was engulfed in your arms, unable to see anything but the fabric clothing you, smelled your unique scent that draws me in. My heartbeat returned, rushed through my body and poured life and sensation back into it, pounded in my head, overtook my senses. I wonder, before I drift off, was that you towering over me that cast shadows, or was the sun blocked out briefly?

My insecurities came to the forefront when you released me, was the reality of me what you’ve professed to dreaming about all these nights? Did the memory turned fantasy hold up? I wanted to stop the tears, happy tears that my world – in you – was close. How waterproof was mascara, I thought then. You were better looking than the image that I envisioned, vibrant and magnetic, alive and breathing, smiling at me. Safe and sound, a certainty for the first time this year.  

And now sleeping next to me. My expectation, though I knew better, was a night of lovemaking, though I was exhausted and knew you would be as well. Your fatigue after visiting with friends and family left you destitute, with a mumbled apology, a collapse on the bed, an arm around my waist, possessively drawing me close and pinning me there, sudden snores soft against my ear.

Why can’t I sleep, even as I drift closer to dreams? I am aware of your chest rising and falling against my side, the heaviness of your arm draped over me.  My eyes burn and itch from holding back tears and slumber. But my body quickens and awakens, rebelling the unconsciousness.

It’s going to be a long night. I need to delve my tongue into your mouth, draw in your breath. Hold you tighter, taste your skin. Feel you harden in my hand, drag my tongue slowly up your shaft. Press your tip against my lips, open and curl and suck just the head before I fill my mouth as far as possible with your cock. Coil my tongue around your length as I pull up with my lips, pulling you and releasing you.  

I yearn to have you poised at my entrance, gently part, stretch and fill my body slowly until I am used to you again, until my body knows that you have returned, that I am yours. Your hardness searing me, marking where it belongs, my warmth clinging, clutching, grasping.

I want to surround you.  I’ve missed you with such an ache that only you fulfill, and it’s been so long.

I need to welcome you home, my love.

 Posted by at 6:52 pm
Jan 162013
 

“I wish you could call me so you can hear me find my pleasure.”

My phone rings almost instantly. He’s at work, on base, in his office. My panties are tucked in his pocket and I’ve sent him a picture of pert nipples, creamy skin, silk panties. I’m being a bit of the devil. I’ve instructed him not to find release until he sees me later this week.

He likes to please me. Against his better judgment he’s agreed to my request. Now I’m just teasing, taunting, making him feel every moment of that wait. To twist the screw a bit more I not only inform him that I’m masturbating at that very moment, but now I’m making him listen to my ragged breath.
The torture continues as I make him tell me what he wants to do to me, and I to him. I find my release but am still enjoying the sensations so I leave my vibrator down there as we talk of other things. I continue to throw sexual innuendo into our conversation; I like this game I’m playing. He asks what I would do if he just showed up at my house. The vixen in me tells him I’d let him watch me masturbate, then send him on his way to continue the vigil until Thursday.

I think he’s had enough because suddenly the tables are turned. His voice deepens, evens out. He’s speaking in an authoritative tone telling me that no, what I really want is his mouth between my thighs and to feel his tongue flick the sensitive skin of my bud. He asks if I want to be a good girl and of course I do. “Then cum. Cum to the sound of my voice and the thoughts of me tasting you.”

I’m undone. My breath catches and my legs shake as I reach that crescendo. He did it. Let me know who was in control even while playing my game. He taunts back one last time about showing up and I tell him I don’t believe him. He’s at work and devoted, I knew better. He wishes me a pleasant afternoon and I reiterate about being impatient for Thursday.

I am languorous and stay half naked as I continue my afternoon, quivering with excitement over what is happening in just two more days. I’m talking to a friend on the phone when there’s a knock at my door. I grab a towel (still naked) and peak out of the window.

It’s him. My jaw drops along with my phone and I’m flustered. Oh my God he has work, how is this possible!? It’s the middle of the afternoon! My house is a mess and so am I but all I can think is, “he’s here! HE’S HERE!”

I open the door and he holds me firmly and ravishes my mouth. He holds my face and says “Never issue a challenge like you did earlier, I’ll rise to it. You’ve no idea what I’m capable of doing.” I’m bewildered at how he accomplished it, but rank has it’s privilege I’m to find out.

His mouth, his words, his gaze… His every touch and everything get me soaked with excitement. I don’t know how he is able to do this to me. I’m still amazed every time, I’m usually dry but apparently this man, out of all of the others, was made to push my buttons. The man could send me a text and I’m damp with desire.

I decide since I need a shower, he does too; two birds and all that. I make him join me and I revel in the feel of his skin, the water caressing us both. I want him so badly and to see him kneel in front of me, to bring me pleasure with his hands, his mouth at my breast, I buck and shiver and dissolve into a pool of taunt nerve endings and arousal.

I maneuver us into the bedroom. I know I’m supposed to wait until Thursday but I no longer want him; I NEED him. He’s teasing at the entrance to my very core and I’m going quietly insane. Suddenly he drives into me with a fierceness that draws a scream from my throat. It’s mine, fulfillment, the fullness inside and the greatest sense of release. He suddenly withdraws and I’ve the strongest urge to hit him, curse him, kiss him and beg. He teasingly thrusts into me again and just as quickly out. There are tremors rocking my body and I’m fighting for control.

“What is that look for, hmmm? Why are you shaking your head?” He knows full well I’m hanging by a thread and I think he delights in it. I’ve been cruel, teasing him, making him ache. I haven’t thought of his reasons today, just my overwhelming desire.

“Why?” I ask, I beg, I plead. Why is he denying us? His penetrating blue eyes stare deep into mine and he says, “I am honoring you. I’m saving my orgasms for Thursday with you just as you requested. I gave you my word. I will honor you, you are worth it.”

Oh God, I’m done. I’m in so much trouble now as his words move me. I roll him over and climb on top. I ride him. I reason he can’t stop me. I need it I need it I NEED IT. Suddenly he says, “No!” and pushes me off but it’s too late. As much as he pushes me over the edge I take him with me. I’m a bad girl and I’ve broken my own rules.

Then he chuckles. Somehow we were playing my game, but I’m the one shaking with need right now and he’s the one who got off. He makes sure to point this all out to me, including the fact that now I’m the one who won’t be finding their end until Thursday. He tried so hard to hold to our bargain and in the end it was me with no self control.

It’s hard to say goodbye, we keep kissing and touching and I wish I could keep him forever today, but I know that I can’t. We both have commitments. I am full of longing for him already and he hasn’t left the door. He chides me again for issuing challenges like that. I pout like a petulant child but am already plotting my next challenge. I’m determined to out fox him.

I kiss my lover goodbye for the millionth time, trying to ignore the fact that I’m bereft at his absence even before the fact. My desire, my longing for him are so strong. He returns my kiss, and with a gentle caress whispers against my lips, “until Thursday”.

 Posted by at 9:29 pm
Jan 142013
 
 
 
For me, it is dishes. This isn’t a scam that I announce to get a guy to do the dishes. No, this is a real, every day occurence turn on. Sure, there’s the appeal of now I don’t have to do them, I’d be lying if I said otherwise. But a man in a kitchen, sleeves pushed up (or better yet shirtless), being meticulous about cleaning, steam rising from the water, the repetitive motion of him scrubbing, wringing out the soap, his hands soapy and slippery…holy hell, I could go on of why this makes me hot.
 
Cooking is almost to the same level, for similiar reasons. The precision in which he cuts meats or veggies, the color to his cheeks from the heat of the stove or oven, creating something delectable that I will consume later, occasionally letting me taste, fingers in my mouth, eyes awaiting my approval, the fact that if I want to eat, I must leave him alone….
 
I had a lover who would strip naked to both cook and do dishes. He would constantly have to swat me away from him when he was cooking; he would wink playfully knowing the effect it had on me. I would have to patiently wait (not an easy thing for me), for him to be done with his task; he wouldn’t let me distract too much. I would just sit and stare and fantasize and finally pounce once he was ready; I was already worked up by that point. He could lift me onto the counter and slide right in if he so desired.
 
In speaking to some friends of mine, some of us do have the routine, mundane chores that turn us on. One friend loves when he pulls the towels from the dryer onto the bed, and then pulls his lover on top of them. They are enveloped immediately in the clean smell, and the heat. For myself, I think I’d have to clean the damn towels again, but it still sounds appealing. Maybe I’ll try it and see.
 
And of course, I am curious. What other, everyday chores are turning on others, and what is the appeal? It would be nice to view other tasks in an exciting new light.
 


Thoughts from A:
Moving! Carrying those boxes? Oh yeah baby! Grunts from the weight, the appearance of effortlessness when I knew damn well that box weighs a ton. Then setting up the bed, and before even putting sheets on, just getting tossed on up and taken for a ride.

I also live near trees so believe it or not you see a lot of wood chopping. Sweat glistening, a streak of dirt smeared thoughtlessly across a forehead, every muscle rippling with the fluid swing of the axe. And the military guys around here like to show off what all the physical training gave them, so they’re mostly shirtless, sweaty, man. Yum!