Sunday, December 21, 2008

Divorce Fantasies . . .

Despite the title, Mike and I are very happily married. Somehow, we feel that each of us has managed to find the one other person with just the right mix of understanding, patience, love, and lust that matches the other. Not mirroring, as we are individually very different, but we are certainly quite complementary. And don't get me wrong, we wouldn't trade what we have for anything.

But last night, after we finally managed to get out of the house, away from children, and aging parents, and finally were able to sit down with a drink and just each other, we got to talking. And we were talking about a friend of a friend who is divorced. With all you hear about divorce rates, you'd think we would know more divorced people, but I'm starting to think we all travel in different circles. Maybe the Dad I see picking up his daughter over at the elementary school is one of them. She's a fourth grader, compared to our first grader, and I'm sure it becomes more prevalent as children age. But for now, the friend of a friend is the best I can do.

And as we were talking about this woman, and fretting about how tough her life must be, and how sad it must be that her daughters only see their Dad two weekends a month, we kind of looked at each other and paused. And then Mike says, "so what you're saying is that both the Mom and the Dad have two WHOLE weekends per month all to themselves? No kids?"

That got us thinking. About all the things we could do with so much time. Books to read, movies to watch without interruption. Working out, walking in the park, volunteering at the church. Not to mention all kinds of hotwife fantasies on top of it all. That really got us thinking.

Back in another life, we used to own a three-flat in the city, and we talked about how cool it would be if we had a building like that now, with an apartment that either of us could escape to when we were playing out our divorce fantasies. How neat it would be to alternate "custody" of the kids every weekend, letting the other spouse escape alone to this little place in the city and just pretend for a couple of days that all the obligations of marriage and family were lifted, and we could just be "single" again.

And talking about all that could involve really got us going. So much that we soon cashed out our check at the crappy little suburban chain restaurant so that we could run home and play out all of our hotwife fantasies in our comfy bed, and how we could really have some adventures if I had an apartment that I could bring some of those sexy divorced dads back to for sex.

Let me tell you, with all that hot talk, Mike didn't last very long at all. And neither did I.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Storytelling . . .

So a lot of our fantasies revolve around MFM threesomes, but we do like to vary our scenarios from time to time. On Friday night, after I came home from the Mom's night out Christmas spectacular (sorry - no action. Wrong crowd to get wild with!), Mike and I played cocktail party.

Mike has always liked the idea of the perfect hostess. His perfect hostess is a yummy little suburban cupcake who makes time during a busy party to lavish him with little caresses and witty asides just for his ears only. At some point during this little fantasy party, the hostess slyly asks Mike if he could help her get down some glassware or some such thing that she keeps in her closet in the master bedroom. Of course, when they are finally alone, her little flirtations become much more overt, and Mike soon finds himself lowering himself into the hostess on the floor of her bedroom, her simple black skirt hiked high around her waist. It's the little details that matter to Mike, so, in my guise as the "hostess", he quickly finishes when I whisper that I want him to fuck me, to come in me, but that it can't be on the bed, because that's where I fuck my "husband".

So during this fantasy session on Friday, Mike is done after only a couple minutes, but I'm still hanging, not to mention having rug burns on my ass from the carpet where he laid me. So I told Mike to go get the Purple Rabbit and snuggle up next to me on the bed and tell me a story.

When he comes back, he comes up with one of my favorites. You see, Mike used to travel often back before we were married. And he used to wander quite a bit during his visits to towns across America. On one of these visits, he happened to find himself in a porn store late one night. This particular store was one of those that happened to feature those little booths. Now I know that men have their needs, but I've never been enthralled with what I imagine might go on in there. Or that is, until Mike told me the story of how he wandered into a booth that one night.

It's kind of cute how he tells it (and it makes me ragingly horny, too). Mike had already spent what little cash he had on him on a trashy mag for his hotel room when an adorable young college girl happened to wander out from the booth area, looking bored. Guess it was a slow night or something, but apparently she had to come out from behind the glass to drum up business. And seeing Mike, she asked if he'd be interested in a show.

Mike was up front with her - he showed her the few crumpled ones that he had in his pocket, and said he'd love to see how she looked, but that he didn't have the $20 minimum posted on the sign over the entrance. She gave him a smile and said not to worry, she wouldn't tell the boss if he didn't.

So she led him into the back, showed him a door that led into the booth, and then disappeared behind another door. Mike went in the booth, which was about three feet square, with plywood walls on three sides and a plexiglass window on the fourth. Behind the window was a little raised platform with some cushions on it. And from behind a little curtain, this young girl soon appeared and seated herself on the cushions.

Apparently, she was wearing a very ordinary cotton bra and panty set, like you might pick up at Target. And next to her on the cushion was a notebook. That's the detail that Mike remembers most from the adventure, and it's the detail that really sends me over the top as well. He said that if the girl had been some aging, strung-out woman down on her luck, he would have wished her well and gone right back to his hotel room. But instead, he asked her about the notebook.

With that cute young face, it turned out that she was in college. And a wannabe writer, which immediately set the hook in Mike. (Sometimes I think that Mike only called me back that first time because I happened to write for a living, even if it is only technical manuals and the like.) She told Mike that the notebook was where she liked to record details of her nights in the booth. Being young himself, Mike wasn't sure exactly what went on in the booth either. So he asked her.

She said it was usually pretty clinical. The men would push their money through a little slot in the plexiglass, and then she would push the bra up over her breasts so that the men could see her nipples. Then they would usually pull their penises out of their pants and begin to masturbate. She said that she could usually hurry them along by pulling her panties down so that they could see her pubic hair, and by fingering her clit while they played with themselves, they would come that much more quickly. Apparently, turnover is important in all businesses.

Now Mike had read an interview with a prostitute in Studs Terkel's Working (highly recommended) that the illusion of arousal was all an act, and he asked the girl about this. She said that for the most part, it is fake, but that, being a young girl who sees a lot of cocks, she did occasionally need to relieve the tension. And then she asked Mike if maybe he would like to relieve some tension.

Always the Boy Scout, Mike reminded her that he didn't have enough money. She said not to worry, just slide whatever he had through the slot. So he shrugged and gave her three or four dollars, and asked her what to do next. She told him that most guys just liked to stand and jack off, so he pulled his jeans and underwear down and began to masturbate while she laid back to do the same.

Now these are Mike's recollections, but he said that it was weird to be standing there beating off for a stranger, but that watching this angelic young woman smiling and stroking her glistening clit had him horny instantly. And the idea of that notebook, and becoming an entry in this girl's journal, was more than enough to send him over the edge. He told me that he soon sprayed big thick globs of semen on that window, and that the smile that she gave him after, knowing that she made this cute young businessman come, was one of the most genuine smiles that he has ever had the pleasure to receive.

And even though I wasn't there, I absolutely love hearing Mike tell me this story over and over again. And on Friday night, with my Purple Rabbit buried deep in the pussy that Mike had just filled with his semen, my fingers furiously stroking my clit, I made Mike tell me every last detail of this story from his past. I was just laying on the bed with my eyes tightly closed, fantasizing for all the world that I could be this girl who gets to see all these different men and their cocks from behind my little window on the world. Looking, but not touching. Chaste, in a weird way.

My God. It took me a long time to get over the mountain, but when I did, I came in buckets, squeezing so hard that I don't think there was even a drop of Mike's come left in me when I was done orgasming.

Maybe this story ties in somehow with our mutual fantasies of me experiencing more men, or maybe it's just a good story in its own right, but let's just say that I slept like a baby on Friday night. And so did Mike.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

I wish every doctor visit was like this...

Haven't gone out with Marcy yet, still working out the details....

I had to go to the doctor this past week and I had my husband's voice in my head the entire visit. Kiss a guy, go ahead and flirt with men, I kept hearing as I waited in cold examination room. I had on jeans and a white camisole which totally provides me with lots of cleavage. The view from the mirror on the door assured me that my nipples were surely popping through.

Now somehow I've been blessed to have pretty handsome medical practitioners all by accident of course. My dentist in the city looked like Aidan Quinn (hard to flirt when you mouth is full of dentistry tools!), a physical therapist that was so good looking I kept saying my back was never healed just so that I could keep getting massages from him and now I have this internist. It's not that he's drop dead handsome, but more of the naughty nurse fantasy kept popping up into my mind during my appointment that he just turned me on.

During the exam, he asked me to take off my camisole. I realized that it was part of the exam, but I took it a step further. As I reached up to pull off the camisole, I looked at him directly in the eye. Never breaking eye contact, I gently carassed my breasts as I placed the camisole on my lap. He was so close to me, all I wanted to do was kiss him. All of a sudden I was fantasizing that I was wearing one of those tight, short nurse outfits and that he was massaging my breasts as I lay there. I have no idea what the doctor was saying to me during that time because I was too busy thinking of what his dick looked like hard and how good it would feel to get fucked on the table.

I was wet. I could feel it in my underpants. My mind started thinking again that I should just kiss him and see what would happen. He told me I could get dressed. So there I was getting dressed in front of this man, who in my fantasy mind is still fucking me hard with his cock on the table. I started getting red in the face and he was trying to make small talk and I was fumbling with my clothes. I looked at him in the eyes and said "well next time I see you, hopefully it will be under better circumstances." He said, "oh no, you should get better in no time."

This is what I thought but didnt say: "Well what I actually meant doctor, is that maybe that next time it would be necessary for me to take off my pants for the exam and you can see how wet I am!" But I didn't say it.

I went home with racy, sexy thoughts in my head and a wet pussy. Mike still has no idea of what I was thinking that night as we had sex, but I'm sure he's all in favor of a nurse outfit hanging in my closet in the near future.

Here's to all of us who ever had a naughty nurse fantasy!

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Wishful Thinking . . .

Ok, so as much as we love following all of the wonderful hotwife blogs, in practice, Mike and I have been underachievers. As in, with kids and all, we barely have enough time for ourselves, let alone working out the logistics we'd need to bring someone new into the mix again.

But we do keep talking. And lately, we've been talking about my friend Marcy. See, until recently, I'd lost touch with Marcy. But thanks to Facebook, we've been hanging out, doing mommy stuff. Stuff that makes Mike's eyes glaze over, to be honest.

The thing that gets him thinking is me and Marcy's sordid past. No, we're not talking sapphic love here. More like post-college, drunk chick hookups. Most weekends would find us cruising the Lincoln Park bars, meeting guys and going home with them. I wasn't quite as daring as Marcy - she ended up with more than a few one-night stands during our cruising days. Me - I tried to maintain some semblance of my good girl past, and usually got away with giving my guy a handjob or a blowjob (see my last post).

That's what gets Mike going. And when I mentioned that Marcy and I wanted to go out for drinks, sans kids, Mike was all to happy to promise to be home early. I guess I kind of let it slip that Marcy is feeling a little bit restless, and what with all the racy conversations Mike and I have been having lately, he got it into his head that Marcy and I could get into more than a bit of trouble if we get a few drinks into us.

And that led to the Bet. But is it really a bet if I win either way? Maybe it's more like a dare. So with all those yummy divorced dads on the prowl, Mike has kindly dared me to lure one of them out to the old mini-van for a makeout session. I know, I know, pretty tame stuff for most of you, but I gotta take baby steps while getting back into the pool. And if I do manage to get lucky, Mike has graciously offered to take over the laundry chores for the next three months. That's an offer I can't refuse. And who knows - one day, I might actually follow in the footsteps of the lovely Suburban Hotwife . . .

I'll keep you posted.

Monday, November 24, 2008

Dreaming . . .

I don't know why this is so hard to write about on a regular basis, but I want to tell you more about our Ben experiences. God knows Mike and I talk about it often enough, even though this was at least ten years ago. Pretty much every time we have sex. Perhaps it's because I'm trying to apply a narrative thread to something that is essentially non-narrative. The three of us basically had several sexual experiences a long time ago. There really wasn't a beginning or an end - we fell into it, and we drifted apart again without a lot of drama. We had some fun, and nobody got hurt - if only things always ended that way in love and lust.

In keeping with that spirit, maybe I'll just tell you about this man's penis. I like the bluntness of that particular word, and I liked the heft of that thing in real life. I always associated that thing with blunt force when I would play with it, and Mike literally creams when I speak bluntly about how fondly I remember it.

I don't know if it could be called beautiful, but it whatever it did for me, I felt it deeply. Not just in the way you're thinking, but emotionally. I would see this thing, erect, kind of long, but the thickness was what really made me swallow hard. I don't know if men have an equivalent feeling, but when I see something like that, I have a powerful urge to take it in my mouth. I'm sure most girls here are familiar with that species of male whose favorite pass involves them opening their trousers and looking at their girl with an expectant stare. I have to admit that I am one of the few girls that nearly always fall for this lame come-on. I've given more than a few charity blowjobs because of this weakness, but silly me, it's just how I'm wired.

So in the spirit of non-narration, I'll just tell you about the effect on me and Mike. We can still spend literally hours talking about that thing. We like to do a little of this and a little of that. We strip, we kiss, we whisper to each other about our different adventures. Mike somehow will lead the dirty talk back to Ben, because he's seen firsthand the effect that a nice big penis can have on me. Talking about it gets me wet every time - every married person could be honest and tell you that getting aroused over your husband or wife will take some time the longer you are together, but Mike and I are both pretty open about the way the thought of a new penis can really make me drip.

Well, Mike put me in that state, so I generally make him go down on me. I'm not nineteen anymore, but I can still knock out a couple of O's in a session with no problem, so I don't let him up from between my legs without giving me at least one. Plus it's fun to be able to reminisce explicitly about Ben's penis while Mike has his mouth full. I especially like to watch Mike's penis twitch more and more as I talk dirtier and dirtier.

So after I let him up, he really wants to be inside me. He tells me how my soaking cunt reminds him of some of our other adventures with Ben, but I don't want to talk about those just yet - I just want keep whispering to Mike about how orally inclined it would make me feel.

It's funny - you could watch us making love at these times, and it would appear so romantic. And it is, although we are nuzzling and kissing each other while we very graphically discuss how hot this man's penis makes me. Mike is so sweet because he doesn't get jealous - he just takes pleasure in how it makes me feel, and how it makes us feel.

And he does take pleasure, because he never can last for very long when we make love this way. Neither can I really - when I feel Mike begin to lose it, I'm usually right behind him.

It's kind of funny really - as I said it's been ten years, we've lost touch. Ben is probably married somewhere. But even after all this time, Ben's penis is still making me come.

I think that may be the real definition of immortality.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Jinxed . . .

Damn, I jinxed myself. I had to get all know-it-all about the blog stages of death, and then I go into a posting slump. Pretty soon people will be checking back, and after weeks of no posting, they'll leave comments like "where'd she go," or hopefully, "we miss you".

It'll be like college where you miss a class for so many weeks that you know the teaching assistant will single you out when you do finally show up that you end up dropping the class out of sheer embarrassment.

So please forgive me if you see me slinking around all the other blogs I follow anonymously, too lazy to even comment. Now please excuse Miss Lazybones while she orders the pre-cooked Thanksgiving dinner from Safeway.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

The Domino Theory . . .

Please pardon the lengthy interruption. Whoever said it was the twenty four hour flu? More like 24/7. And like dominoes, when one kid falls ill, they all do. And in that final cruel twist of fate, Mom and Dad get sick just when the little munchkins are back to running around at full energy.

Although having my very own posting famine is very blogger-like of me. They should have some kind of guide for bloggers, like the five or whatever stages of grief. So instead of denial, anger, blah blah blah, you could have enthusiasm, where you post three times a day at the start; writer's block, where you can't think of anything to say and go weeks at a time without a post; anger, where you threaten to turn on comment moderation because some lurker thinks your thighs look fat; suicide, where your anger makes you threaten to delete the entire blog and hope that there are enough readers out there that care enough to make you change your mind; and acceptance, where you just slog through your life and try and put something interesting up on the web every couple of days.

Don't worry - I won't be posting cute kitten pictures anytime soon. I haven't reached the acceptance stage yet.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Pussy Just Isn't My Thing . . .

I'll confess to everyone. At least anyone interested, that is.

I've never had much interest in actually going down on a girl. I think some women think that since we have the same equipment that we would enjoy each other, but the answer is no for me. I could fantastize my face in a set of beautiful breasts anyday. I mean they are fun regardless of size, aren't they? But I thought I'd never find myself between a woman's legs. Well all that changed one office Christmas party.

I used to work at a company that gave an all out, break the bank Christmas party at a downtown hotel. Mike and I were dating at the time (I think I actually JUST started calling him my boyfriend after a very long time dating. I just couldn't give up seeing other guys, I guess.). Anyways, we are at my party and drinking heavily. At the end of the party we go to another hotel bar to keep up the good times.

We get to the bar and of course Mike makes a bee line to two women kissing in the corner. He comes up to them and says "hey were you guys just kissing? That's so hot." So he comes back to me and introduces me to them. Ok, I'm sure they were just as loaded as we were but they were like "Oh my god she's so hot!" Literally, the one woman whose name was Libby just came up to me and started frenching me. Hard. And then she bit my tongue! After Libby was done with me, the other woman, Marissa, who thankfully was much softer in her approach kissed me too. Let me tell you. I love attention and I was like a kid in a candy store going from woman to woman taking in everything they were saying and doing to me.

It was something about their touch that caught me off guard. It was so gentle and their hands so small that I've never felt before. I loved it. It felt invigorating and sexy and new. So there we were, a sight for the late night drinkers at a hotel bar. Three good looking women sharing kisses with a man gazing about.

It turns out the two women were coworkers in Chicago for a convention and they were both married. I think Libby was trying to hook up with someone for drugs, but Marissa invited us up to her room. Now, up to this point, I've never been with a woman in my life but Mike and I certainly have spoke about how hot it would be to be with another woman. I'm drunk, still a bit nervous but we walk into her hotel room.

We -Marissa and I - stood kissing in the middle of the room. I'm not sure what came over me but I took charge of the situation and brought us over to the bed. It was her scent that made me kiss further and to go further. I've always been with men, so smelling something so sexy and feminine was new. Then I touched her skin. I've never felt a woman's thigh before, but in that moment I really began to understand men. Her skin was so incredibly soft and supple that I caressed her inside thigh up and down with my fingers. It was the softest skin I've ever touch. Now I could understand why men want to go further and touch women everywhere. Mike sat next the bed watching everything. But that didn't matter to me.

Well I did to enjoy my breast fetish with her. Her breasts were great. I loved them. Then, instinctively I went down south. She was moaning. I pulled off her panties (very nice by the way, I guess only woman would appreciate!) and dove my face into her pussy. Mike was all eyes watching me do this. He couldn't believe one of our fantasies was coming alive.

Only the fantasy was better than my reality. I dove my face into Marissa's pussy only to be over come with the smell of garlic! Yes, readers my first pussy tasted just like garlic. I kept going though licking her thinking it was going to get better but it didn't. Finally I stopped. I pulled myself up and found her passed out. I looked over at Mike and he said "why did you stop?" And I said "look she's passed out and she tastes like garlic. Let's go home."

I woke up the next morning in my apartment with Mike next to me. As I woke up, it was like going over a dream over and over again except that I knew it wasn't. At first, Mike and I were both shy about talking about what happened the night before. I told him I thought men were crazy for wanting to eat pussy if it tasted like garlic and he said it was a fluke that my first time was bad. I asked "do I taste like that?" knowing that I've tasted my own cunt juice and it never was like Marissa's.

So that my friends was the first and last time I've ever tasted pussy. I think that is the thing about fantasies and reality. In fantasy, the pussy tastes good, everyone cums, everyone looks good, feels good etc. In reality, the new guy who is eating your pussy obviously isn't aware of the location of a clit or has such a hairy ass that you just can't get passed it. Life just isn't always the recreation of the great porn you just watched.

But just to feel the softness of a woman's skin was all worth it. Good night.

My Voyeur . . .

Thanks for all the wonderful comments - posting my picture on the web (however anonymous it might be) has been a real turn on for me. I see why so many of my fellow bloggers feel the same.

Of course my biggest fan has been Mike. When he told me last night that he's been sneaking a look at my tits several times a day in his office, I couldn't help but reward him for being such a wonderful little pet. So even though I was tired, I let him lube me up for a quickie.

Nothing I like better than falling asleep with a nice orgasm and a sticky mess between my legs, my man curled up around me . . . sheer heaven.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Naked Commercialism . . .

Okay, Mike has put his trashy porno book up for sale on, and as a dutiful wife, I'm linking up to it from my blog. Yes, I'm biased, but it's naughty and sweet, even though Mike's shameless voyeurism is practically oozing from every page. And no, it is not a true story, even if certain, uh, elements have been ripped from the headlines of our marriage. I'll leave it to the readers to speculate on what's fact and what's fiction.

Of course, I also feel a sense of responsibility to my readers, and should you feel dirtied in any way by this blatant commercial interruption, I hope the little snapshot of your hostess will help you feel better.

And if you still feel dirty, then maybe Nurse Angie will have to come give you a nice, hot bubble bath . . .

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Controlled Reactions . . .

Okay, today I do remember one of the things I was thinking about last night at 3 am. I'll tell you a little about it, and see what you think. Probably, you'll just tell me to go back to bed.

If you know a little about history, you might know that here in Chicago is the site of the first controlled nuclear reaction. (And those of you who know a little about sleep disorders might wonder why I still have insomnia when I'm thinking about physics in the middle of the night, but I digress.)

So what they did down there at U of C was to stack up a big pile of nuclear material and then push and pull these graphite rods in and out of the stack to heat it up and then slow down the reaction. (And now, with that explanation, you're probably wondering if I'm an unemployed technical writer. Oh right - digression again.)

Me, I was thinking how grown-up sexuality is a lot like that experiment. Not the fake, Gossip Girl or whatever show kind of sex, but sexuality of people on the north side of 30. The great thing about blogs is that they give a wide audience of people access into the very personal thoughts of people that might be just like them.

And in reading these blogs and seeing all these sexual variations, I was thinking lots of people are finally free to explore the things that turn them on in the same way those scientists did, and they write about it. They can take a very strong response to an emotion or idea that inexplicably turns them on, like maybe jealousy, or violence, or rape, and then personally explore it on a controlled basis as they try to understand their fetishes.

So me and Mike, we took a history of jealousy in his previous relationships, a history that inexplicably turns him on when he thinks about old girlfriends cheating on him, and we eventually started exploring it through controlled experiments. What would it be like if Mike saw a guy kiss me, what would it be like if I touched a guy - that kind of thing. And then if the reaction gets too hot, we push in one of those graphite rods (pardon the pun) and stop the experiment for a while to analyze the response.

And the great thing is that lots of other people are out there doing the same thing. Perhaps people who experienced abuse are exploring it and controlling it as an adult through the BDSM lifestyle. And believe me, I know more than a few girls with rape fantasies they have acted out. The great thing about being a grown-up is finally having the courage to stop and face your fears, and then finding out that maybe you wasted a lot of time and anxiety on something that wasn't so scary in the light of day.

And now, Oprah and her inner child have to get some sleep. Nighty night.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Ottoman Empire . . .

This blogging thing is tough sometimes - it'd be great to be able to have an assistant next to your bed at 3 in the morning who could transcribe the awesome post that comes to you when you're lying awake. Around here, the person standing next to my bed at that time of night is usually a three-year-old who just had another accident. And after changing the sheets, whatever profound thoughts I had have vanished into the air.

Anyway, I was thinking about a crazy adventure Mike and I had a long time ago - maybe ten years. It's about how you might have fantasies, but when you find yourself in that fantasy situation, it goes completely in another direction. But I'm not feeling that one yet, so remind me at some point that I have to tell you the story about Marissa.

For now, I'll give you a little more on Ben.

As you could guess, this Ben thing unfolded over a longer period of time. I think it was probably like a year or so before we all kind of drifted apart, and he moved to the Twin Cities to be with some girl he met at a bar in Wicker Park. I like relationships like that, that not feeling hurried thing, because it seems much more natural and relaxed. You can ask Mike about me - I was so non-committal that it drove him nuts. I think right up to our wedding, it was like we were still seeing other people. But he loves me anyway, and gives me my freedom!

So at this point, Ben had masturbated for me and Mike, and Mike and Ben had masturbated for me. Looks like it was my turn, and the next time we got together, my boys were only too quick to remind me. And was I ever ready. It wasn't even a game night this time - just a little after-work Happy Hour on a Friday night. It broke up early, and Mike just asked Ben if he wanted to come over and watch a video with us. This was still in the VHS era, but I still remember the movie - Bitter Moon. Most people will think it's really weird, but if it catches you in the right mood, it will really turn you on. Like us.

Ben had a joint with him, and even though Mike is kind of square, he didn't mind that Ben and I smoked it while Mike had his beer. We were all feeling good after a while, and kind of heckling on the characters while we were watching, just laughing and having a good relaxing time. But by the end of the movie, I felt a little strange.

"Guys, you know what?" I said. "I think I'm kinda wet." That was like throwing steaks to the dogs, and my two puppies were barking. Ben, always a man of action, got up and said he had an idea. He got up and went across the living room to where we had this big leather ottoman. It was about three feet by three feet, and upholstered in some kind of distressed leather. Ben pushed it across the room so it was in front of the couch. He flopped down next to Mike and looking at me, said, "Your stage, my lady." What a goof.

I asked them what exactly I was supposed to do. Men never seem to think that far out, or maybe they are afraid to say exactly what they're thinking. So I just kind of walked over to where they were sitting and stood there looking at the ottoman for a minute, then I got up and stood on it.

"What do I do now?" They were just sitting there, like two little altar boys with these eager smiles. I was still dressed in a skirt and a blouse from work, but I had put on a pair of white athletic socks on over my black thigh highs (no bare legs back then, and sorry to be so open, but pantyhose always gave me yeast infections), so I had this weird goth schoolgirl look going on. And now I had Mike and Ben trying to look up my skirt.

Since the guys were obviously not going to tell me what I should do, I just started out doing little poses for them. I unbuttoned my blouse and bent over from the waist so that they could look down my cleavage. I kind of squatted on the ottoman so that my skirt rode up and they could look at my panties and my thighs above the hem of the stockings. I turned around and flipped my skirt up and shook my ass a little bit and looked over my shoulder at them (no, I was never a stripper, but I was trying to steal all their moves, I think).

The boys weren't saying a word, but I knew from their expressions that they were loving it. But it wasn't doing much for me (aside from a little ego-stroking), and I was still hot from the movie, so I kind of curled up on the ottoman in this semi-fetal position, with my legs together so I could slide my thighs back and forth in a way that stimulated my clit.

I did this for a little while with my eyes closed, just thinking about sex generally, and when I opened my eyes, I saw that Mike and Ben were totally entranced, even though they couldn't see more than a little flash of my panties. Ben had asked for a show, though, and now I was ready to give him one.

I rolled over on my back, and pulled my legs up and open so that they had a good view of my crotch. I like to play with my nipples when I masturbate, so I unbuttoned my blouse all the way and left it open, but I left my bra on. I guess that's kind of weird - being exposed to my two guys, but still being modest? Anyway, lying there like that, I put my fingers in my panties and began to play with myself.

I was definitely wet, and I wanted to show Mike and Ben that I was excited too, kind of like them showing their erections to me the past few weeks, so I pulled my panties to the side while I fingered my clit. I couldn't see how it looked, but Mike later said that it was really cool the way my wet and shiny lips looked right next to the shiny black fabric of my panties.

And there I was, in this very quiet room, on my back on the ottoman, my clothes undone, my eyes closed, one hand under my bra tweaking my nipple, the other on my clit, sliding up and down while I thought about how exciting it was to be getting myself off in front of them.

It probably took me about five minutes before I finally came, and the whole time, no one said a word. When I opened my eyes, I saw that they were totally fascinated. They didn't have their penises out, but there were definitely two pairs of tightly packaged Levis in front of me.

It was their turn now, but seeing as it's time to get the kids off to school, I'll save the rest of the story for another time.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

A Little Worked Up . . .

It's already been a busy weekend and here we are at Sunday. Let's see to recap the weekend so far: Friday had to get off work early so I can get an estimate on my roof repair. Apparently, those little bastard racoons ate a hole in my roof and have been having a party and a half in my attic. So here I was in my home, waiting for roofing guy to come and it's 3pm. Now, I'm not sure what happened in my past that 3pm is when my clit begins to throb. Some people like morning sex, or sex before they go to bed but for some reason (maybe it was all those after school high school make out sessions with my boyfriend that set my "button")3pm is officially "throb time" for me.

Being in tune with my clit is satisfying yet it really can be annoying. I mean it's great that I'm all horny and lusty and I need a cock, but at 3pm I've got 15-20 minutes before I pick the kids up from school. My pussy is literally throbbing that all I can think of is just going into the office, zipping down my pants and whipping off a quick orgasm. Do I call Mike and have him listen to me? Or do I hunker down and wait until later when we get more time? The door bell rings and decides for me. It will have to be later.

Ok, I'm not sure if there are any other women like me, but I'm a cock watcher. The roofing guy was contractor cute (meaning kinda gruff, but I could picture him on top of me!) and as he's telling me about the intricate details of roof repair I'm off in fantasy land. Do you think he would accept a blow job as payment? Is he the kind of guy who hasn't had sex in awhile and would blow in a minute? I look at his left hand and notice no ring. I bend down to pick up a piece of trash on the lawn, but also to allow him a sneak peek at my tits in my semi low cut top. I peer up and sure enough he's looking. I love playing this game. It's fun, no harm is done and it makes me feel sexy. So he gives me the estimate and we exchange sly grins. He's probably thinking cute housewife and I'm thinking that at the cost of the roof repair I'd have to give him two blow jobs to pay for this.

So finally Friday night. I'm so tired but still horny. Mike is amazing at pulling through his tiredness to dredge up enough energy to pull off amazing acts in bed. Door closed and locked, I throw off my clothes and tell him to start licking me. He literally is my sex slave and loves taking the role of satisfyer. And I love telling him exactly what I need and he delivers. Are the other moms I know also getting their pussies licked like me from their husbands? I'm always curious to know.

Anyway, Mike pulls out this purple vibrator that I bought at a sex toy party my girlfriend had. Yes, sex toys parties do exist among the suburban house wife crowd. We are the few, the horny, and after a few cocktails we'll buy anything. Four glasses of wine later, I learned that this one amazingly gorgeous mom is afraid to undress in front of her husband. I'm almost said to her "you can undress in front of me anytime!" but thought that would blow the minds of the other moms. So I'm asking this lady "so your husband never gets to see your body after all these years?" She is so open with me (she's had too many cocktails at this point) and exclaims "no, I'm just too shy. I'm not like that." I'm thinking this lady who workouts out all the time, has this amazing body and her and her husband are having once a month sex in the dark. I swear to you, in my next life, I will become a sex therapist. I literally wanted to walk to their house the next night after the party and instruct them on how to enjoy each other and all the neat toys she bought. I wanted the husband to see her sexy thighs and love her clit. I wanted her to enjoy the taste of her husbands cock. To look at each other and put all previous bad sex times behind them and start fresh. To start being lusty with each other. Ok, sorry now back to me and Mike.

So I've never put this large, purple rotating vibrator up me all the way. Mike puts a bit of lube on the toy and my pussy literally opens up. I have no idea what he's doing, but I've never experienced this vibrator like this. He's got the 8 inch rotating thing entirely up me and his mouth is on my entire vagina. His tongue is on my clit (my favorite spot!) and I'm no longer in my bedroom. He's telling me he wants to take me to an orgy and perform exactly what he's doing. The thought of it turns me on so much that my pelvis is moving up and down fucking his face and this amazing vibrator. I imagine that there's a crowd of people watching this. They are getting horny, and wonder what it would be like to do this to me. People want me and get into my hole. Everyone wants this amazing wet hole.

Needless to say, I'm cumming and it's great. Mike says he wants me on top and to perform for him. And there's that crowd of people watching us again so I really play it up. My ass is humping up and down slithering all over his slick cock. My tits are rubbing against him as I fuck him hard. I know that he loves this and he's telling me that the men in the crowd want my pussy. He knows that I really love this adoration and it makes me perform harder, fucking him harder. And it makes me cum again. He flips me over and gets on top of me. My pussy is wet and open. His cock is harder than ever and within two minutes his groans are getting louder. I love this moment with men. I've got them. They love my pussy and they are already thinking when they can "get" me again. They are hooked. I really love satisfying men and making them cum good.

So he cums. Show is over. It's another amazing night in our bed. But during our sex, it's no longer our bed. It's our performance platform. Our fantasy comes to life and we feel great.

Friday, October 10, 2008

Ben so long . . .

If anyone is actually reading, they are probably so tired of waiting for more about Ben that I've just decided to blurble (I love making up words!) the story out in bits and pieces.

Mike and I didn't really have a plan when it came to Ben - we just let it all happen (and generally fucked like rabbits after whatever happened went down). All we had to do was wait for the next Game Night, which was a couple weeks later.

Definitely, Mike, Ben and I must have looked like something was up with all the smirks and sly winks we were giving to each other, but no one seemed to catch on. Needless to say, Mike and I weren't surprised when somehow Ben was the last person to leave again. After Mike walked whoever to the door of our apartment, Ben was just sitting their on our couch with his sexy, smirky, expectant grin.

Even though Mike and I were open to more, I didn't want him to think we were easy, so I asked him if Sally was waiting up for him.


After last time's show, I askes him if it wouldn't be a problem to "expend" himself and still take home leftovers for Sally without raising suspicion.

That got a hearty laugh. "Please," he insisted, "I'm twenty three years old."

This time, he was a lot more curious about Mike and me - what kind of kinks we were into, things we had tried. He was really giving Mike a hard time, teasing him about checking out Ben's cock last time, asking if he'd ever played with other guys back when he was a kid. Mike was actually blushing (which was totally making me wet), but he denied everything (and still does to this day - hmmm?). But Mike did admit that we fucked like bunnies after the whole thing, and he admitted that it was the first time he had ever seen a guy beat off in front of him.

Of course that's when Ben started whining about being the only one exposed, so to speak and said it was our turn.

Being a lady, I teased him that I had a reputation to worry about, but that Mike at least owed it to him to level the playing field, which made Mike blush all over again.

But he didn't say no. And when Ben started unzipping, Mike just said "what the hell," and started pulling down his own pants.

At that point, I totally flooded my panties.

Yes, Mike's cock was noticeably smaller (and yes, he DOES know how to use it!), but ladies, the scene was making me cock-crazy, even though I was fully dressed. It was almost like I knew things would get out of hand if I so much as took off my socks.

But I did open the door for the future . . .

When Ben asked if I wanted to have a closer look, I did come across the room to see for myself. And no, I did not ask for Mike's permission when I reached out to wrap my fingers around Ben's penis and have a feel.

It's not that I'm a bitch or a bad wife - it's just that when I looked at Mike when I reached out for that fat cock, I knew I already had my answer from the way that Mike's cock began to spray semen all over the place.

And I did have my feel. Just a feel. For that time, at least. Which is a story I'll save for next time.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Link Up . . .

Okay, I'm finally going to put up some links to some of my favorite blogs. I don't know much about blog etiquette - am I supposed to send an invitation to let the owners know I'm linking to them? Don't know, but please, any blogger Emily Post's out there, forgive me for any faux pas!

A Little Rain Must Fall . . .

Lest you think the life of a sex blogger (gawd, I shudder to think that's what I've become - my parents would be mortified) is a non- stop orgy, let me remind you about the joy of conference calls. Sex bloggers have to pay the bills, too, you know.

Of course, they always fall during my period. Let me tell you, I'm not one of those girls from a Judy Blume book that sees her period as a visit from the blessed fertility goddesses. In case you men didn't realize it, it pretty much sucks to lose so much blood that you seriously consider the merits of a tourniquet over a tampon. And I haven't even started on cramps, which the mommy bloggers have already covered in far greater detail than I ever could.

The subject of any conference call has pretty much been covered already by hundreds of emails. It really exists to bring the boss "up to speed" (please spank me later for using that phrase. Please?) I generally like to bring a boss up to speed by shooting him out of cannon, which is probably why I'm not the boss. Of course, he could also check his Blackberry for the emails and spare us the call, but that would require reading. Did I mention that the chairman of our local literacy campaign hates to read? No, I haven't, because I'm still trying to tell you how nothing says clueless poseur like a middle-aged white guy with a Blackberry. Here's a tip on how to get into my pants, guys: don't fill up my Inbox with pointless emails that just say "thx".

Of course, while Mr. Blackberry is verbally recapping said emails, I distract myself by cruising the Craigslist Casual Encounter ads. I'm trying to imagine why sex with a couple that is attending a Robin Williams show is supposedly superior to sex with people who think RW is just an irritating nanny-fucker.

"What do you think, Angie?"

"Mmm-mork?" That Blackberry-sucking motherfucker. I'm blank.

Impatiently now, "Angie?" Oh, don't get all superior with me, you cocksucker.

"Sorry," I mumble. "Is someone on a mobile - that last part broke up."

You get the picture. I can practically see that smug look through the wires. The one that says, "what more do you expect from a woman with two kids working from home."

I answer his repetitive question and spend the rest of the call searching the web for email-borne Blackberry-destroying viruses.
Not that fuckslit would notice anyway.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

To Be Continued . . .

Fear not, gentle readers (or any readers - anyone?). I still have lots more to tell about Ben. Stay tuned . . .

Friday, October 3, 2008

Write What You Feel . . .

I don't know why I feel the need to write about my life. It's pretty ordinary - I work part-time, raise my kids, love my husband. Ordinary stuff. With a few not-so-ordinary things thrown in.

Maybe that's why I write. It's a nice life in the suburbs here, probably like anywhere. But I just kind of feel that I want to write down those not-so-ordinary things, so that others like me and Mike won't feel like we're some kind of deviants. Which I guess we are, in the sense that some of the things we like do deviate from the "norm". But really, the norm is a pretty big space.

With lots of room for all of us.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Ben, My Only Friend . . .

I want to tell about how we started down this road in earnest. That means I have to tell you about Ben. And that means I have to tell you about Game Night.

Two jobs ago and BK (before kids), when I used to work for an ad agency, writing catalog copy, there were quite a few of us late twenty-something nerdy types who worked there. We all used to like to get together every few weekends, but being intellectuals, we couldn't just drink - we had to have a reason. So someone decided we should play games, like Trivial Pursuit and Scattergories. And drink.

Anyway, we'd usually meet up a someone's apartment (usually at me and Mike's - we were already living together at the time) and play till it was late and the game was usually forgotten. (I know what you're thinking - a six pack and a game of checkers will get you into Angie's pants. You're probably right.)

Ben was a guy that worked at the agency, too, as some kind of IT guy, and he had an on/off thing with Sally, who was one of the creatives. Sally and Ben were two of the regulars at Game Night, and I knew from her that they would sometimes go back to her place afterwards for an occasional hook-up. But she was kind of paranoid about her career, so none of our other co-workers had any idea.

Of course, I also knew from Sally that Ben had a fat fucking cock on him. That totally intrigued me (told you I was a crotch-watcher), and Mike and I loved to bring up that subject when we'd dirty talk during sex. What really turned me on about Ben was that he was a really sweet, slow-drawling Southern guy, kind of a gentlemen-type, yet he had this way of bringing the conversation around to sex. Which totally steamed Sally, but there was nothing she could do about it, since they weren't out to anyone at work.

So basically, we're all hanging out at Game Night one evening, the crowd dwindles down, and Sally has left early, and finally, it's just me, Mike and Ben. Without Sally there, and with the alcohol, Ben is rolling. And since Mike and I have been talking about this cock on Ben for weeks, we kind of just let him ramble. We didn't even need to steer the conversation back toward sex.

The neat thing about was that he wasn't shy at all in front of Mike. It wasn't like he was trying to make me - he just was very open about talking about his various "adventures". Mike is by nature a very curious guy, and between the two of them that night, it was like eavesdropping on a couple of buddies shooting the shit about their girlfriends. Mike kept coaxing more tales of Ben's exploits out of him, and Ben was only too happy to oblige.

I think Mike knew exactly what he was doing when, as Ben was bragging about his dick size, Mike jokingly called his bluff. After the prefatory "I'm not gay, but . . . " line, Mike said he'd seen enough penises in locker rooms to doubt there was much difference, and with an inquisitive look at me, he basically said to Ben, "prove it."

Needless to say, I did not object, and more amazing, Ben just smiled this cocky smile and put his hand on his zipper. Looking at me, he asked if we were sure. My jaw was down on the floor, so I just nodded. Then he made us both promise that we wouldn't breathe a word of it to Sally. Not a problem, either - it wasn't like they were exclusive.

It's not like we all ripped off our clothes at that point (not that night, at least!), but it was pretty bizarre. Shockingly, I don't think I'd ever watched a man beat off at that point, and certainly not with my boyfriend present, but Ben claimed that he was a "grower, not a show-er", and that he needed to pump it up a bit to appreciate its full effect.

And appreciate it we did. Mike and I just stared in awe at that hunk of meat while he beat off in front of us. It was pretty impressive - the thing with dick size is that, watching at least, you don't really notice differences in length, but you can really tell a nice thick cock from a regular one.

It was really cool - he only lasted a few minutes, but Ben was completely conversational during the whole experience, talking about different girls he'd been with, experiences, and yes, even some very personal experiences he'd had with Sally. He even asked if I wanted to touch it, but I declined (I can be a little shy, sometimes). Mike was hilarious - he saw that Ben was getting close, so Mike went and got him some paper towels. He was a bit of a show-off - he held the wad of towels a couple feet in front of him, and then he shot off into them. Boy, was he a good cummer!

And then we sat around for a bit and had a nightcap before he left, just bullshitting about things. Mike admitted that Ben wasn't bragging about what he was packing, and Ben just gave me this sly wink when he heard that. And then he left a few minutes later.

And then I didn't even wait for the door to slam before I yank Mike's cock out and jammed it in my soaking wet pussy. But that's a story for another day . . .

Thursday, September 11, 2008

A Little Taste of Scotch . . .

Mike is an absolute voyeur when it comes to my past flings. He gets off on this little jealous reaction inside him when he hears about some other guy having his way with me. Especially when that guy had his way when we were already dating . . .

Well, to be clear, we weren't dating exclusively. I was in grad school, he was working, and I did a semester abroad thing over in England. And like most people in those kind of situations, we agreed that it was okay to "see" other people while we were apart.

Silly men. Mike admits he agreed to it, thinking he'd be getting all this pussy while I was gone. Guys - a word of advice. We girls can get it any time we want. And you can't. Of course, Mike didn't even have a date in that period.

And me - let's just say I wasn't hurting for company. I've never been one to miss an opportunity. And the opportunity that really turns on Mike happened when I took a week-long bus tour in Scotland.

It was crazy - fifteen college-age guys and girls, drinking and toking their way around the island. That's what really gets Mike - he's pretty straight, and the thought of a guy getting his girlfriend high so he can get into her pants drives him nuts.

But what really gets him is that I was the aggressor. After a couple days on this party bus, this one guy from Germany and I were getting cozy. We'd make out on the tour bus between stops, I'd let him feel up my tits while walking through this or that castle, and at night, when we went to the pubs, I'd let him rub my crotch a bit under the table. But the thing is, we didn't fuck, because the thing about this tour was that we'd sleep in these hostels with big common rooms, without any privacy.

Well, by this time, Angie is horny as hell from all this fingering, and after a few drinks, I get a little forward. I take my German boy by the hand, and I lead him out the back door of the pub of the day and into a semi-dark alley.

And without a word, I get down on my knees, unzip his shorts, and pull out that fat German prick of his and swallow it whole. The guy is shocked, and probably thinking that American girls are every bit as slutty as he's heard. And his dick is thinking, "I'm not going to last long at all." Believe me, it doesn't. This poor guy shoots his wad in my mouth, I swallow, smile, and zip him up, and we go back inside for another drink.

Sure, he tells every other guy on the tour about my oral skills, which is kind of flattering, but I also have to fend off their passes for the rest of the trip. Which is kind of a bummer, because I would have actually fucked the guy at some point if he didn't have such a big mouth. And of course, I don't tell Mike anything when I get home. Not yet, anyway.

Until he asks, of course. Poor guy - his curiosity is killing him. So I tell him, and yeah, he's a little mad, but he's really turned on. And within five minutes of me telling him about the German, he has me on the bed, his penis inside me, begging me to tell him what it was like for me to suck that stranger off in that alley. So I tell him, and he's is coming so hard you wouldn't believe it.

And that's exactly how it's gone every time I've told him that story over the past ten years - instant hard-on.

I really love my Mike.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

That Old School Spirit . . .

Hard to believe, but Mike wasn't really the first kinky guy I've been with. Let me tell you about Lee.

I'm not really a princess kind of girl. I'm more of a tomboy, if anything, and I didn't really like to hang with girls who were princesses either. Needless to say, I certainly wasn't the sorority type, and I didn't really go for the fraternity guys, either. But somehow, in my senior year, I found myself dating Lee.

Okay, it's not like Lee was in one of the elite frats. Just kind of average, which is kind of what Lee was like, but he was a sweet guy, and for whatever reason, he really enjoyed the friendship of the other average joe's in his house. It was even sort of cute the way they'd get together and talk all earnestly about sports or jobs or girls. They might've been average, but at least they weren't jaded.

And the sex was just kind of average, too. I didn't mind so much - sometimes it's fun to not have to work so hard to impress somebody. Lee would get on me, stick his cute little penis in me, and just seemed to enjoy himself so much when he'd ride me for a few minutes that I felt like I was just this hot sexy girl that was just giving it away to him.

So anyway, one night, Lee and I are sitting around his apartment with his roommate Bill, who's also in the frat. The three of us are playing some stupid drinking game - maybe quarters. Lee is being Mr. PDA, having me sit in his lap, stroking my thighs (I was wearing some loose shorts and a t-shirt), nuzzling my neck in between rounds. And of course, his little boner is pressing against my ass. He is all flushed, and he is horny, right there in front of his friend Bill.

Who I notice, when I look over at his crotch (I'm a total crotch-watcher, which you will soon come to realize), is also horny, and which I find totally amusing. That's what was kind of cute about these guys - normally, at this point in the night, guys I dated previously would have kicked out their buddy and taken me into their room for a good lay.

Not these two, which is by now getting interesting. So being just slightly the exhibitionist, I play along. I want to see how long it takes before Lee wants to get laid, so I start kissing him on the mouth and rubbing him in a not-so-discreet way.

And he goes for it. He's french kissing me back, feeling up my tits, and he kind of rolls me over on the couch so he's now on top of me, wedging my legs open with his hips, all of this right there in front of Bill, who is just eating Doritos and encouraging Lee to go for it.

It was weird - at this point, the only time I'd ever been caught in the act was when roommates accidentally walked in on me with a guy, and then they turned right back around. But here was Bill, being encouraged by Lee, watching the whole thing. So I figure, what the hell, I'm graduating in a couple months, and if Lee doesn't mind, I'm game to see how far he goes in front of his buddy.

And for a very average nice guy, I have to hand it to Lee. He did go for it. We're drunk, my shirt's pushed up over my tits by now, and I'm pulling his hard little cock out of his pants at this point, and Bill is still there enjoying the hell out of the show. So what the hell - I pull my shorts to the side and pull Lee into my pussy, which is totally soaked from just the utter weirdness of it all.

And I look over at Bill and smile when he smiles at me. All three of us are looking at each other and smiling as if we were just talking about a class or a game or something. Maybe that's the thing about these frat boys - they're really into this communal kind of thing, and it all seems natural just to have sex all together, like it was supper time and everyone eats at the same table.

And that's when we get to the weird part (weirder part?). Lee is a good little boy and comes in me after his usual two minute drill. He rolls off of me, with his wet, shrinking dick laying there in the open for both of us to see, completely unashamed, and which I found totally cute and non-threatening for some reason. And Bill says kind of jokingly, "hey, what about me?" So Lee looks at me, gives me this questioning look, and kind of shrugs his shoulders.

And shockingly, at least to myself at the time, I just say, "sure, why not?" So Lee moves out from between my legs, Bill stands up, walks over to me, and I help him push his jeans down to his knees. And out pops another cute little cock, almost identical to Lee's. And all I want to do is to give him a nice ride, too, just like I just gave to his buddy. So I pull him between my legs, guide him inside me (my pussy is totally soaked with my juice and Lee's come at this point), and just let him have a quick ride. And just like his buddy, it only take him about a minute to shoot off in me.

And then it's over, and I have these two guys with me with their penises hanging out in front of me and each other, and of course, being my sweet little frat boys, they give each other a very dorky, pants-wide-open high five. Which makes me break out in belly laughs, and pretty soon, all three of us are laying around laughing at the weirdness of it all.

And no, I didn't come until later, after I'd gone home and reached down and felt how wet I was with those two guys's sperm in me, and fingered my clit before I went to sleep. I was realy happy, too. For some reason, I always pictured my first threesome to be this really slutty, dirty experience, and here I am now, reflecting on it many years later, marveling at how cute the whole thing was.

So that's my threesome story (one of them, at least). And yes, I've told it to Mike many, times, and it never fails to get him off, just like my frat boys so long ago.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Can I Get A Witness . . .

Let me tell you about Mike, my husband.

He's a good guy, steady husband, goes to work every day like clockwork, puts up with a lot of crap at the insurance company he works at, yet still has a smile for our kids when he gets off that train.

He's sweet to me, too, thinking of me, sending me naughty texts some days, letting me know how much he loves me after more than a few years of marriage.

I appreciate him, and I encourage him when he needs an outlet. Being an English major-turned-finance guy, he thinks he's got a novel in him somewhere. Only it turns out, when he sits down to write something, he's totally blocked. So like a good wife, I give my guy a little encouragement - a nice blowjob to get him past the block. Only now, he's in that post-orgasm lethargy, where all you want to do is lay there and look at the ceiling fan go round.

So being the kind of wife who won't let a perfectly good blowjob to waste, the next time, I take him right to the edge, and I leave him hanging. And I tell him to write.

And he says he can't - he's too horny. So I tell him to write about sex. And he does, and it's like the dam is bursting. All of a sudden, he is writing page after page of the dirtiest pornography I have read in my life.

And I am shocked, and proud of my finance guy, who is finding his voice. And a little flattered, too, because of lot of fiction has its basis in fact. Clearly, my Mike has starting spinning an amazing yarn out of some of our adventures.

Which is all well and good. But remember, I'm a technical writer. And something inside me tells me that I have to tell my own story, too, and that I have to tell it the way it happened. Because I'm supportive of Mike. But still, I have to set down events as they happened, not as they've been imagined. And let his readers puzzle over what's fact and what's fantasy.

Hence, the raison d'etre of this blog.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

The Journey Begins . . .

I kind of hate myself for how much time I spend reading blogs, and now I'm going to write one of my own? As if I didn't already have enough to do . . . as my own mom would say, "this house isn't going to clean itself."