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.

Naked Commercialism . . .

Okay, Mike has put his trashy porno book up for sale on Amazon.com, 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 . . .

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.

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.

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.

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.

"Probably."

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.

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.

To Be Continued . . .

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

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.