tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70514780080316021312024-03-13T11:42:24.765-05:00Angie and Mike ExploreA Chicago-area couple documents their adventures on the wild side of suburbia.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-63948151658672284912009-04-28T21:47:00.002-05:002009-04-28T23:06:54.061-05:00Saran Wrap Adventures Continue!!My husband and I started our spring cleaning in the garage. We recently moved so the movers left this gigantic roll of clear Saran wrapping behind. Well given our new love of this great plastic, we decided if a small roll was fun, bigger was better right??<br /><br />We laid the wrap on our carpeting one night and lightly glazed it with our favorite lube. We got undressed, and started rolling around on the new floor. Nothing like some nude wrestling to get me <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">horny</span>. Mike started to wrap me starting from my breasts, then around my waist and hips. He bounded my wrists together over my head with the Saran wrap too. He headed down south to make a neat hole for my vagina opening and then continued wrapping each leg <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">separately</span> down to my ankles. It was like I was a human condom all bounded up. He sucked and bit my nipples HARD through the wrap making some teeth marks in the plastic. I love every minute. I had to put my mind in a place that made me enjoy every moment, every lick and bite. I was ready to accept all the pleasure I could. <br /><br />Mike took a couple of pictures of me laying there all wrapped up. He was hard and VERY willing to give me himself. He loved being in control and I relished in losing control. He lubed up a finger and began to caress my lips "down there". He softly rubbed my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">clit</span> with his thumb up and down and then slowly penetrated me with his two fingers. I think he took his other fingers and rubbed my lips all the while he was doing this. It felt like there were a couple of guys going to town giving me a seductive massage down there. I lost myself in my lust and how beautiful my cunt felt. I really wish I had a mirror to see everything he was doing because the lust and wanting for him to continue was intense. I started to lift up my hips up and down because my first reaction to that kind of rubbing is to thrust. Hard, deep and long.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ok</span>, all <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">horny</span> husbands out there, sex tip from me: when you combine making your wife feel like the most wanted woman in the world (or in my case, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">sluttiest</span> woman), combine that with some dirty talk, lube, gentle <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">clit</span> rubbing, you'll get a female bomb ready and willing for sex. Get ready to hear some groaning, for sure.<br /><br />His sweat combined with some of the lube made for some good fucking! We slid all over the place and all over each other. I was the wrapped up hole ready for a dick. And no condom this time. And Ronald this one is for you: for most of time since I lost my virginity I rarely had a moment with a condom. Once I got that raw meat in me, I never wanted anything to get in the way of getting that warm cum in me. When my husband and I have sex, I can feel when my husband is getting to cum in me by how warm and rigid he gets Once he cums, all that hot cum presses some sort of button in me and I orgasm. <br /><br />We had a lot of fun, which of course is what sex is suppose to be all about right?! Hope this inspires everyone to get their own roll of large Saran wrap (or at least have a good time <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">masturbating</span> to our domestic adventure.). Good night.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-18653893909125145502009-04-21T23:24:00.002-05:002009-04-22T00:02:24.101-05:00Ah, the Saran WrapTake the following things and roll them into one: saran wrap, a horney wife, and a husband who has a good sense of adventure and what do you get? Our Saturday night. <br /><br />How Mike and I got on the subject of dental dams I'm not sure. Yeah, I have to be honest that I'm kinda deft about that kind of stuff, but I said "hey why don't you go down on me and we use Saran wrap instead?" Talk about hot. He's ALWAYS willing to down on me, I love it and can come easily from it, but adding the Saran wrap was fun. As he licked me continously, my fantasies ranged from new guy who I just picked up at a bar to a my hot internist that I have a secret crush on. After I came, I made him put on a condom to complete the fantasy of "new guy". At first I was worried I wouldn't have another orgasim, but not so. He got on top and we talked about the girls he fucked with condoms and the guys I didn't. I'll admit it: I've always liked it raw, without condoms. <br /><br />Sunday morning, woke up naked next to him horney again. Later in the afternoon we napped. I had total sex dreams about fucking old college boyfriends. Mike pressed up against me and with the 10 minutes we had to spare before kids came knocking on the door, we lubed up and fucked again.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-50105065038424151682009-04-06T21:29:00.002-05:002009-04-06T21:43:07.208-05:00Oh, Seth . . .From Angie's mouth to Seth's ear. I am hopelessly out of touch here in middle America. No sooner do I write a dated blog post about Seth's movies from last fall (I got kids! That's my excuse for everything!) then Seth shows up on the TV circuit, <a href="http://www.jossip.com/seth-rogen-is-so-proud-of-his-weight-loss-20090403/">modeling</a> his newly-trained physique.<br /><br />So Seth Rogen is now sporting a six-pack. What has the world come to? I think we all know how this movie ends - Seth wants to do dramatic roles, Seth wants to be an auteur, Seth pens a workout book. <br /><br />Okay, I'm not condoning unhealthy living and drug abuse, but sometimes, I really miss the archetypes - John Candy, Chris Farley, John Belushi. Yeah, I'm biased - they all have a Chicago connection. And sure, Seth has probably always been LA. But hey man, those Chicago guys - they were <span style="font-style: italic;">real</span>.<br /><br />Of course, I'll keep watching his movies. On DVD, of course, because I never get out. <span style="font-style: italic;">Because I'm a mom!</span>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-1254720361454674252009-03-24T20:56:00.003-05:002009-03-24T22:06:53.651-05:00The Many Faces of Seth Rogen . . .I like Seth Rogen. I like him, even in spite of the mondo overexposure. Well, I don't like the way he overexposes himself in <em>that </em>way, since he could really use a trainer, but I like him. I've liked him (and James Franco and the gang) ever since <em>Freaks and Geeks</em>. And don't even get me started on how the crew at <em>ER</em> has gone out of their way to ruin Linda Cardellini's good looks.<br /><br />So being a parent with three young kids, who hasn't seen a movie in the theater since Thomas Edison was making them, that means I recently had a chance to catch up with Seth's movies from last fall on DVD. No spoiler alerts here, buster. I mean, my grandma has even seen these dusties.<br /><br />The movies that Mike and I watched this week were <em>Pineapple Express</em> and <em>Zach and Miri Make A Porno</em>. Yeah, they were entertaining. Yeah, Seth Rogen busted up the place with his usual shtick. <br /><br />But I kinda had a problem with both movies. The same problem, even though the movies came from different directors. And maybe the problem isn't so much the actors's, or the writers's, or the directors's. Maybe it's our problem. <br /><br />Basically, you have one movie about making porn movies, and another about dealing drugs. So there's this "countercultural" angle (boy, do I sound like a Nixonian press secretary, or what?) to both movies. But what bugged me about both of them was that there was still this whole relative morality thing going on with both movies.<br /><br />So in <em>Pineapple Express</em>, there're a lot of pot jokes, and we're all supposed to laugh at them, 'cause we're <em>in</em> on the jokes. But the <em>really</em> bad guys in the movie deal in harder drugs, and they're the ones that the movie judges with its peculiar morality. So basically, pot's cool, but everything else is way bad.<br /><br />Which I hate. Not because I'm against drugs - I've done them on more than one occasion in my life. And I'm kind of a Libertarian, so whatever people do with their bodies, I don't really care. But please, Mr. Moviemaker, don't get all moral about the relative merits of various drugs. Because if you want to be honest, there has been plenty of collateral damage from the pot trade. So it's okay to say, yeah, let's legalize it, but let's not pretend that plenty of people haven't been hurt by the pot trade. <br /><br />Same goes for <em>Zach and Miri</em>. Not in the sense that the porn trade is illegal. But again, there was this relative morality laced through the movie, and it felt like it was aimed right at middle America. Basically, Zach and Miri have this unrequited love for each other. But they want to make this porno, so they hire some porn actors to star alongside them in this venture. So while they're making this porn movie, the other actors, the <em>sluts</em> of the movie, have sex with all of the other actors in the movie. But after a bit of did-she/he-sleep-with-someone-else misdirection, Zach and Miri break the rules for making the porno, and they only have sex with each other. Yeah - monogamous pornography.<br /><br />And what really irritated me was that at the end of the movie, Zach and Miri are rewarded with true love for their monogamy. And all the other characters in the movie are left to drift along from pointless sexual relationship to pointless sexual relationship. Just because they're the sluts.<br /><br />In other words - sluts are bad, but monogamous people are good. And as a once and future slut, I resent that I'm not allowed by Kevin Smith to feel love. And I know that these movies come together through test screenings and focus groups, and all that, but really, Mr. Director: if you want to pose as an "indie" or "hip" or whatever, please have some balls and take a really controversial position, and not some studio sanctioned version of potheads or porn stars. Give me the likeable heroin addicts from <em>Drugstore Cowboy</em> and <em>Trainspotting</em>. Let me fall in love with Ron Jeremy and have his grandkids. And enough with spoonfeeding us what you think middle America will respond to, okay?<br /><br />And as the late, great Paul Harvey would say, "Goooood Day!"Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-66970757218811980122009-03-10T21:08:00.002-05:002009-03-10T21:16:15.614-05:00Checking In . . .Thanks to everyone for all the wonderful comments lately. I vacillate over where to go with this blog, but maybe it doesn't have to go anywhere. I like sex blogs, and I like writing about sex. I also like being able to write about everything else in my life (yes, even Real Housewives of NYC, which I am loving/hating as I write).<br /><br />I love the thoughtful discussion in the comments section, and as a sometimes lurker myself, I think it's okay to just look on silently from the corner. So if you're here for the witty banter, that's cool. And if you're here for the sex, well, I've got an adventure involving Mike, a roll of Saran Wrap, and an amateur porn website called <a href="www.windycityxxx.com">www.windycityxxx.com</a>. More to come . . .Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-69714894465283217052009-03-05T07:20:00.002-06:002009-03-05T07:43:40.212-06:00HNT - Not . . .Angie here - I'm back, but still stuck in some late winter doldrums, I guess. Feeling guilt about not posting, but not feeling particularly inspired by anything enough to write about it. <br /><br />I was catching up on some blogs, and was over at <a href="http://broadeningourhorizons.blogspot.com/">Broadening Our Horizons</a> reading some very open and honest posts on sexuality, including some very thoughtful discussion on marriage and what it's like to <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> feel sexual when everyone expects you should. <br /><br />And one of the things that struck me was that all of this thoughtful writing, over a period of a few weeks, merited only one comment - from his lovely wife. Yet the one HNT picture (of the aforementioned lovely wife) generated nine comments. <br /><br />Now, I'm not trying to be a comment-whore here. And I'm not against naked pictures - I'm actually one of the few women (0r not-so-few women - I honestly have no statistics to back this up) that enjoys watching porn. But something feels wrong when a couple expresses some of their deepest thoughts to the world, and the best that the audience can do is to say, "hey - nice titties!"<br /><br /><a href="http://suburbanwifeblogger.blogspot.com/">Suburban Hotwife</a> is also kind of feeling around the edges of this subject, and she raises some excellent points about the nature of the audience as well. <br /><br />I don't know where I'm going with this, and I have a toddler screaming at me to get him out of his crib right now, so I'll have to leave this topic unfinished. Maybe part of it is that I realize that things like HNT, or TMI, or whatever are good prompts to get us all writing, but in some ways, they make me feel like I'm catering to the prurient or voyeuristic side of the audience.<br /><br />Anyway, I'm all mixed up, but I'll post this just to start the conversation . . .Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-2003318797593158272009-02-16T09:37:00.008-06:002009-02-16T20:25:44.755-06:00And Now A Word From the Old Man . . .<span>Hi all - Mike here. I know my name is up there on the masthead, but my contributions so far have been nil. But since Angie is hard at work contemplating the bathroom wallpaper for her next post (don't ask), I thought I'd fill in for a post of my own, and respond to a tag from <a href="http://anothersuburbanmom.blogspot.com/">ASM</a>. <br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />1. First French kiss?</span> 16. Yes, a classic late bloomer. Please don't make fun of me; I was awkward enough as it is. So a friend and I had this awkward double date at Pizza Hut, and I dropped him and his date off first, and I nervously walked my date to her door. God bless her, she took pity on me and opened her mouth and showed me what all the fuss was about. I was hooked - until the next week, when she was making out with some other guy at one of those basement parties we used to frequent in high school. (If you want to understand the time and place I come from, you must rent <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0193676/">Freaks and Geeks</a>.) I was crushed. Until a few weeks later, when I finally got to make out with a girl at one of those parties.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. First boyfriend/girlfriend. </span>Real girlfriend, as in dated for longer than a few weeks? Linda. My God - very pretty Italian girl I befriended in college. But what a temper. For a long time, I tended to confuse anger and jealousy with love and affection. I know better now. But sometimes, now that I'm safe in a stable, loving marriage, I like to reflect on all that drama - the accusations, the arguments, her chasing me around our apartment with a claw hammer . . . oh wait a minute. Maybe I <span style="font-style: italic;">don't</span> miss it all that much.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. First type: </span>Cheerleader/athletic girls have always turned me on. I only wished they had loved me as much as I did them. Though I must admit that my own dear Angie is quite a fit and athletic specimen in her own right, with a bit of an All-American, wholesome girl-next-door face thrown in for good measure. <br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />4. First time you had sex. </span>Like our dear ASM's own <a href="http://hubmanshangout.wordpress.com/">Hubman</a>, I was a twenty year old virgin. Can you believe it was with a Helen? She was a very plain Jewish grad student, working on a master's in Hindu Culture or something, with her own apartment. And she was a virgin too. And I am now admitting that I lied to her, and pretended that I was experienced, and she thought that I would be a good candidate to rid her of her unwanted virginity. It was actually pretty good, for both of us I think. For a couple months after that, I would pretend to go to the library to study, when I was secretly going over to her house for some interpersonal studies. And stupidly, I broke up with her by pretending to get back together with an old girlfriend. I think it worked out for the best for her - I called her for a booty call (not that that was what we called it back then), and she curtly informed me that she was seeing a nice Indian boy. I totally deserved it. Now I see where Angie gets her Kumar fantasies from. Gotta love the Kama Sutra.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />5. First celebrity crush.</span> Probably someone like Karen Valentine on Love, American Style, or Mrs. Brady on the Brady Bunch. Gawd, I'm old.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />6. First sexual fantasy.</span> Second grade. Not really so sexual, but I would fantasize about rescuing one of the three girls that everyone in class liked (Sandy, Laurie, or Julie) from some frozen mountaintop. <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />7. First person you fell in love with.</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span>See Linda, above in number 2. </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />8. First proper sex toy.</span> Oh, it was deeply improper, but it was an electric toothbrush. My God, I would just hold that thing alongside my hard little shaft, and it was like turning on a garden hose, with semen spraying everywhere. To all the rest of my family, I now apologize for using the family toothbrush in such a depraved manner. Really, in the future, teenage boys should just be moved to a secure, plastic-covered, magazine-equipped location where they can just masturbate for about three years until they get it out of their systems.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">9. First porn video.</span> Don't really remember. Maybe at some stupid kid's house when I was nineteen, and this awkward guy was trying to impress some equally awkward teen girls with how "adult" he was. Never really been turned on by video much, unless of course, it's <span style="font-style: italic;">authentic</span> amateur porn. That means bad lighting, unshaven pubes, no silicon, no collagen, and no tatts (no offense to my dear sweet ex, Catherine). If there's even a hint of professional production about it, I won't even bother.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />10. First sexy lingerie item/sexy briefs owned.</span> <span>Okay, I wore one of my sister's sleek one-piece bathing suits to a Halloween party once in college. I must say, with my water balloon breasts, I looked damn fine. With a nice blond wig, I looked like a slender six foot Amazon wench. I've never really been into the whole cross-dressing thing, but I KNOW there were more than a couple guys licking their chops at the sight of me. Now I know how a stripper feels at a bachelor party. </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />11. First time giving oral.</span> College, sophomore year. Met an equally awkward girl making prank phone calls to other dorms (oh, the days before caller ID). We got to talking, had a date, and went back to her dorm. Now this was a very sweet, relatively devout Catholic girl, but she had this voracious curiosity to explore her sexuality. She was a bit on the plain side, but she had this lovely athletic figure (see above), and we had this very playful evening of her flexing her very toned calves and thighs for me. It didn't take much for me to convince her that it would be even better for her to model for me in the nude. And when I saw her lovely black bush (yeah, I like a little fur down there), I felt my mouth being inexplicably drawn to that crease between her legs. It tasted yummy, and I was hooked.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />12. First time getting oral.</span> <span>Same girl, different date. Back seat of a '77 Mercury Cougar. We had this very unusual conversation of how she was going to dispose of my semen when I came. After searching frantically through the backseat garbage, I came up with an old envelope from a utility bill. She had a beautiful mouth, but my mind was so busy thinking about how I was going to stop, pull out, and then direct my penis into this envelope that I ended up losing my erection. Also my first time experiencing ED (and last, fuck you very much, to all those stupid Viagra and Cialis commercials).</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />13. First orgasm given by someone else.</span> <span>Jeanie, my lovely geology major. Now that girl could suck the crust off of a geode. Such a sweet and beautiful face, and this sturdy Scandinavian body, with lovely little breasts. After the envelope mishap, I was determined to unload in this girl's mouth, and since I knew from a friend who dated her that she loved to swallow, I felt no anxiety about announcing my impending orgasm. Maybe the idea of sharing a girl with my friend factored somehow into my psychology. But that's a story for another day. <br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />14. First one night stand.</span> <span>Jill, my real live English nanny. As a young slacker in Chicago, I spent a LOT of time in the bars. I found all this out later from her, but apparently she was nearing the end of her year in the States, and was determined not to leave without fucking an American boy. This particular night was the night she chose, and she spent a good three or four hours letting me and some other young man from the bar try to win her favor. I was clever enough to push him out of the picture by spiriting her away to a house party I knew of, and it was game over for him. An hour later, she was slipping a condom over my hard-on, and I was slipping my cock into this dead-ringer for a young Anjelica Huston. You know, I have to admit, it was a HUGE turn-on to fuck someone that you didn't even know that afternoon. Really, you're in between her legs, with your DICK in her! Crazy! </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />15. First dirty book/dirty mag read.</span> Penthouse, of course. If I could ever find a therapist that would humor me and my dirty fantasies, I would love to explore the effect that reading Penthouse letters when I was twelve turned me on to fantasizing about watching my wife when I grew up.<br /><br />Okay, I'm not very good with this tagging stuff (never could use a spray paint can, haha), but I tag <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/10/02/rachael-rays-corn-porn-vi_n_131335.html">Rachael Ray</a>. Mmm - love her.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-30863827834090531822009-02-09T09:53:00.002-06:002009-02-09T10:47:05.258-06:00Frisky . . .Mike and I got out for a little adult time on Saturday. And a little ADULT time, too!<br /><br />After leaving the kids with their grandparents, we went into the city to meet another couple for a small dinner party at their loft, where we also would be staying the night. It's a nice change - Mike's not a big drinker, but sometimes, it does get old, being the designated driver all the time, so it was relaxing for him to be able to drink along the with the rest of us.<br /><br />And drink we did. Not crushing hangover-style binge drinking, but enough to loosen up everybody's tongues. With only us, our hosts, and one other couple, it was just the right size get-together to be able to hear everyone talk without shouting over the roar of the party. And when you are able to hear everyone talk, it seems like people are able to be a little more intimate in what they're talking about.<br /><br />No, there were no major revelations, no one came out of the closet and admitted that they were swingers, but we did talk very frankly about what turns us on and off in the bedroom, which is really refreshing. It's not too often that you can truly talk about this subject with people you know, and who know you, very openly. Which is silly, because sometimes, the best people to turn to for advice on some of these subjects should be the people that know you best. So it was nice to be able to talk about the things we find exciting, and find that we're not too different than the rest of our friends.<br /><br />And after the other couple left, and our hosts made up the futon for us, we turned out the lights and settled in for the night. I haven't slept on a futon since I was in college, but something about it kind of turned me on. Maybe I was remembering all those different boys that I used to seduce in my studio apartment, or maybe it was all the racy talk, but I was horny, and I couldn't keep my hands off Mike.<br /><br />He was a little reluctant at first. Not that he was too drunk, cause he wasn't. Just a little shy, since this loft was pretty much an open plan layout. There was a kind of a partial wall separating the bedroom area from the living area and the futon, but it wasn't really designed for privacy.<br /><br />But after Mike and I heard our hosts whispering, and then grunting a little bit, and then very quietly moaning (like we couldn't hear them!), I reached over and felt his hard-on. And when I felt it, I wasn't going to waste it, or let him wiggle out of this, so I threw my leg over his waist and straddled him. <br /><br />We were whispering to each other as I slowly slid up and down him, trying to be quiet, and just kind of giggling a little, when we heard footsteps on the creaking floor, and then we saw the bathroom light go on.<br /><br />We both must have looked up, because our hostess, who was silhouetted in the bathroom door, whispered an apology. "Sorry - hope we didn't wake you guys just now," she said, and then she just kind of stood there for a moment, watching us.<br /><br />Mike and I both laughed. We were just covered by a thin sheet, and even in the semi-darkness, she could tell that I was straddled over him and moving, so we really didn't make a pretense of trying to hide what we were doing.<br /><br />"No," I said, "you didn't wake us, but you did kind of inspire us." <br /><br />It took her a minute, then it dawned on her. "Omigosh - you guys are having sex! I'm so sorry," she whispered loudly. <br /><br />"When you gotta go, you gotta go," said Mike. "Don't worry about us."<br /><br />"No really, sorry," she said again. "This is kind of weird. I mean, I don't think I've ever actually talked to anyone while they were having sex. Like, I'm standing here all weird, and you guys are probably thinking, 'leave already', and I'm just babbling." But she still stood there, flustered maybe, not really moving.<br /><br />I kept moving my hips the whole time. I was really turned on by the whole exhibitionist-thing going on with our friend standing there. I think she kind of realized that we weren't going to stop at this point, and maybe seeing me moving on top of Mike broke her out of her trance. "So, uh, okay, I really should get out of your hair." She went into the bathroom. "I'll be done in a minute. Carry on, or whatever, I guess."<br /><br />We did. Mike and I heard the toilet flush a few minutes later, and the door open, and the creaking as she tiptoed back to her bed. And just as she was walking past us again, I could sense Mike smiling beneath me as he whispered loudly to her, "sweet dreams, Sherry."<br /><br />That got a nice little giggle out of her, and a minute later, we were finishing up ourselves. Mmmm.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-40345236723497052932009-01-24T16:14:00.002-06:002009-01-24T16:55:54.144-06:00The List . . .Wanna know something I hate about living in Chicago? No, not all the snow we've been having. Nope, not even the sub-zero weather that keeps coming back like a bad yeast infection.<br /><br />It's Eric and Kathy.<br /><br />For those of you blessed to live in other radio markets, The Eric and Kathy Show is the Chicago radio version of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Regis</span> and Kelly, only without the clever banter. Kathy is basically a reformed party girl who pretends like she was a virgin on her wedding night. Eric is an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">uber</span>-dork, an evangelical Christian who panders for ratings with mildly risque subjects designed by some asinine MBA program director to titillate your average housewife. And there must be someone listening, because these two are each paid more than a million bucks a year. <br /><br />I can't tell you how bad they are, or how unfunny they are. And yet, when I happen to be driving to a client's office at that time of the morning, flipping the stations on the FM radio (oh, if I could only splurge on a Sirius receiver), I find myself coming back to their crappy show. It's like a scab that I can't stop picking at. <br /><br />And there I was the other week, picking away, when Jackass (that would be Eric) starts talking about updating his "List" for the new year. Yeah, yeah, the list of celebrities that your spouse has to give you a free pass on if you ever get a chance to fuck them. Now Eric is such a tool that his wife (a pretty hot dental <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">hygienist</span> - yeah, they met after he started making that million a year) knows he's got zero chance of banging any of the chicks on his list. I mean, he's such a loser that he couldn't get George Michael to bang him if he had a baggie of crystal meth taped to his ass. So she probably humors the loser about what a stud he is, should he ever have the opportunity to cross paths with Jessica Alba.<br /><br />Which of course got me thinking about this whole concept of the List, and how ultimately patronizing it is. It's essentially about your spouse, patting you on the head like a toddler, saying, "now, now, sweetums, of course you can sleep with Britney Spears. You have my full permission."<br /><br />Because it's never gonna happen.<br /><br />Which makes me angry. I want something more subversive than some "safe" List where the chance of any danger is less than that of lightning striking you in the middle of a Chicago winter. <br /><br />You know what I want to see? The <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">real</span> List for people, the one we keep in our heads, and never tell anyone about. The list of friends and acquaintances, co-workers and in-laws, that we really would fuck. Maybe we've flirted with them in the copy room, maybe we exchanged questioning glances with them at the Starbucks. The people that we'd drop our trousers or lift our skirts for if we get just that right combination of cocktails and opportunity and alibi. <br /><br />I want to see a List that could actually happen. And that would be so shocking, or improper, or just so surprising that your husband's or your wife's jaw would drop when they heard who it includes. <br /><br />So please readers, feel free to tell me about the pastor at your church, or your wife's younger sister. Your husband's boss, or the next door neighbor's college co-ed. My own list includes a certain ex-boyfriend with a nine-inch cock that for some reason drives Mike insane with jealousy if I even happen to mention his name. Yes, the same Mike that fantasizes about seeing me with other men.<br /><br />The comment section is now open. I promise I won't tell a soul.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-82592499363195856332009-01-21T22:08:00.002-06:002009-01-21T22:35:59.805-06:00Cock Blocked . . .My apologies - that title implies that there's something sexual about this post, when it's more about blogging. <br /><br />I'd like to post more frequently, but I just don't seem to have any adventures to add, even in the realm of fantasy. I mean, it can't really be considered writer's block if I don't have anything to say? I feel like that does a great disservice to all the amazing writers who have great ideas that they want to put down on paper, yet the words just don't come. At work, I write up a storm - business letters, research papers, you name it, it comes flowing out of my copy of Word.<br /><br />It's me really - I just haven't been thinking about sex enough in general. And cocks in particular. I just don't have any stories that I can put down on paper. So I guess that makes me cock-blocked. <br /><br />So there you have it - the first reported case of cock-blocking perpetrated on a female.<br /><br />But . . . the writers will tell you that sometimes, you just have to write your way through it. Keep putting words down on paper, no matter that you can practically smell how bad the writing is even as your pencil keeps moving.<br /><br />So I'm going to keep putting my cock fantasies down on paper, and I guess I'll tell you about my dream, and you'll promise to forgive me in advance for its lameness. You see, the other night, I had this dream. A dream about that Indian guy from the Harold and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kumar</span> movies. Now, not that there's anything wrong with it, but I've never had a real strong attraction for Indian men. Just my preference, I guess. But the other night, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kumar</span> shows up in my dream. And of course he brings his weed with him. Which, without fail, makes me ragingly horny. And because my husband's a square about those things, I've been deprived of that particular pleasure for more years than I'd like.<br /><br />So in this dream, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Kumar</span> has got me stoned, and I can't stop thinking about how smooth and hard and brown his cock must look. And how smooth and hard and brown his yummy body must look under those clothes. So before you know it, I'm stripping down this B-movie star, and then we're banging away on my couch. And I am loving it. And for the past couple of days, I am looking at every East Indian young man that I see, and wondering if he wants to smoke a joint with me.<br /><br />So afterward, I wake up from this dream, and of course I'm horny still, so I wake up Mike, and as we're having sex, he asks me what got me so fired up. And I tell him about <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Kumar</span> while we're fucking, and that reminds him of something that happened a long time ago, when we were just dating casually. <br /><br />So he tells me about how he was seeing this married woman at the time also, and how she was also fucking this other guy, and how the three of them would get together so that Mike could watch the married woman have sex with the other guy, who just happened to be Indian (yep, that's my Mike). Anyway, at some point, this woman happened to see my picture in Mike's wallet, and asked if I'd be interested in joining their little adventures.<br /><br />Clearly, Mike didn't know me very well at that point, because he told her that he thought I was too much of a "good" girl to be down with having a mini-orgy with this couple. How wrong he was!<br /><br />So that little tidbit pretty much sent me over the top, and then some. The past couple of days, I've had to rub out a couple more orgasms just thinking about <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Kumar</span> and that lost foursome opportunity. Ah, maybe one day . . .Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-85510114735638396512009-01-04T14:49:00.006-06:002009-01-04T15:33:19.717-06:00Young People . . .. . . Fucking (<a href="http://www.ypfthemovie.com/">Y.P.F.</a>) is a movie that Mike and I rented last night. Mike basically rents any quasi-indie sex-related movie he comes across on Netflix (0kay, one more link <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/9_Songs">here</a> to another good sex movie), and he gives a movie bonus points if it has anything to do with threesomes or swinging. Now, since the list of <span style="font-style: italic;">good</span> movies about these very interesting subjects is nowhere near as long as it should be, he's dragged home some real winners over the years.<br /><br />So we really had low expectations for this particular movie. But we were really pleasantly surprised. Okay, so you're saying that there are lots of pleasant, sexy movies out there - is this blog turning into Mike and Angie at the Movies?<br /><br />No. But given that wife-watching and hotwife fantasies are one of the biggest turn-ons for us, as well as many of our readers, I have to cite this movie as having the single best depiction of this scenario I've ever seen outside of a porno movie. It's not totally sexy (although the actors in this film are nearly all gorgeous to a fault), and it's quite awkward at times (like real life) but it was pretty hilarious.<br /><br />I won't spoil it, but let's just say that whenever I finally grant Mike the pleasure of watching me have sex with someone, he's going to be bringing a comfy recliner and a roll of frozen cookie dough into the bedroom with him. So give it a try, and let us know what you think.<br /><br />On that note, Mike and I happened to be in bed reading the other night, flipping through our local newspaper, when I happened across an ad for my gym. There in the center of the ad was my new trainer. Now, I can't say that there's been any vibe between me and him (it's hard to keep up a flirtation with a young stud when the babysitting room is paging me to come claim my tornado of a toddler), but when I showed the picture to Mike, he was very impressed with this handsome young man. He basically told me to go for it if I ever get the chance.<br /><br />So maybe if I'm lucky enough, I might bring home a sexy tale like <a href="http://hotwive.blogspot.com/2008/01/jamie-becomes-hotwife.html">Hotwife Jamie's</a>. I'll keep you posted.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-59646628748285313592008-12-21T09:26:00.002-06:002008-12-21T09:48:54.961-06:00Divorce 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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?"<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />Let me tell you, with all that hot talk, Mike didn't last very long at all. And neither did I.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-55469929883047152552008-12-14T08:07:00.003-06:002008-12-14T09:17:06.185-06:00Storytelling . . .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. <br /><br />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". <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Now Mike had read an interview with a prostitute in Studs Terkel's <span style="font-style: italic;">Working</span> (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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-34792366985182674952008-12-07T20:21:00.002-06:002008-12-07T21:25:16.532-06:00I wish every doctor visit was like this...Haven't gone out with Marcy yet, still working out the details....<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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." <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />Here's to all of us who ever had a naughty nurse fantasy!Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-56467937252173712102008-12-02T22:04:00.002-06:002008-12-02T22:43:40.676-06:00Wishful 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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). <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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 . . .<br /><br />I'll keep you posted.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-37638861333568732492008-11-24T18:44:00.001-06:002008-11-24T21:42:23.628-06:00Dreaming . . .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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />I think that may be the real definition of immortality.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-47959117124036202612008-11-20T20:55:00.002-06:002008-11-20T21:02:59.183-06:00Jinxed . . .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". <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-76865061604698484542008-11-12T05:56:00.002-06:002008-11-12T06:08:59.235-06:00The 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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />Don't worry - I won't be posting cute kitten pictures anytime soon. I haven't reached the acceptance stage yet.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-61073932743624434462008-10-28T21:34:00.005-05:002008-10-28T22:51:46.013-05:00Pussy Just Isn't My Thing . . .I'll confess to everyone. At least anyone interested, that is. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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." <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />But just to feel the softness of a woman's skin was all worth it. Good night.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-43126866623409555972008-10-28T10:30:00.002-05:002008-10-28T10:37:28.956-05:00My 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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-21384689623127103812008-10-23T10:52:00.003-05:002008-10-23T11:16:27.861-05:00Naked Commercialism . . .<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SvLUtHTiXPLx7i_OJBTeBiFllxniJn6neFJL55DgglN1LJDXr4o8l-B7C7DnpPcmTtlubf3Fbh7eNitP4K1geuzN5VlnEPH5fSt9cVgfBY6cqIWd-fmTbuPSySPrjb3ZHv07gnq36Ss/s1600-h/Decolletage.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SvLUtHTiXPLx7i_OJBTeBiFllxniJn6neFJL55DgglN1LJDXr4o8l-B7C7DnpPcmTtlubf3Fbh7eNitP4K1geuzN5VlnEPH5fSt9cVgfBY6cqIWd-fmTbuPSySPrjb3ZHv07gnq36Ss/s320/Decolletage.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260379678050952866" /></a><br /><br />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 <span style="font-weight:bold;">not</span> a true story, even if certain, uh, <span style="font-style:italic;">elements</span> 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />And if you still feel dirty, then maybe Nurse Angie will have to come give you a nice, hot bubble bath . . .Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-6841627086799347902008-10-21T07:15:00.002-05:002008-10-21T07:58:09.698-05:00Controlled 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.<br /><br />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.)<br /><br />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 <span style="font-style:italic;">unemployed</span> technical writer. Oh right - digression again.)<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />And now, Oprah and her inner child have to get some sleep. Nighty night.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-14656363620389948042008-10-16T06:41:00.002-05:002008-10-16T08:00:10.833-05:00Ottoman 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />For now, I'll give you a little more on Ben. <br /><br />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!<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />"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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />"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.<br /><br />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). <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-29818406557706583502008-10-12T08:32:00.002-05:002008-10-12T09:37:29.039-05:00A 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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7051478008031602131.post-35820392924346223572008-10-10T17:42:00.000-05:002008-10-10T18:22:14.080-05:00Ben 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />"Probably."<br /><br />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. <br /><br />That got a hearty laugh. "Please," he insisted, "I'm twenty three years old."<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Of course that's when Ben started whining about being the only one exposed, so to speak and said it was our turn.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />But he didn't say no. And when Ben started unzipping, Mike just said "what the hell," and started pulling down his own pants. <br /><br />At that point, I totally flooded my panties.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />But I did open the door for the future . . .<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />And I did have my feel. Just a feel. For that time, at least. Which is a story I'll save for next time.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04347457165624810792noreply@blogger.com7