Chancy Chatter

These are the potentially dangerous words of an over fed, under appreciated, tattooed, formerly pierced and occasionally purple-haired, wife and mom.

Sunday, November 28, 2004

Cure for the Holdiay Blues

Bwaaa haa haa ha! See what happens when my dirty mind is allowed to take over while I'm using up the left over cookie dough? Notice how the blue eyed cookie looks rather shocked and appalled. I'm so amused with myself that I'm considering whipping up a full batch of these anatomically correct little guys to give to sunShine, my Mom and my sisters. I may even mail a few to my friends abroad! I found and used a new sugar cookie recipe that uses cream cheese in place of some of the butter. They taste GREAT! (Especially the genitals. )


Saturday, November 27, 2004

Warning: Pitious whining ahead

Friday I wallowed around in a morose and genuinely Grinchy mood. We got out the Christmas decorations and I felt absolutely no enthusiasm. None. I've always loved Christmas. Usually I'd be drinking eggnog until I felt sick and watching The Grinch Who Stole Christmas (the classic, not the Jim Carey version) while humming Christmas carols. This year I just felt a heavy burden of hatred for our giant artificial tree. I've always preferred a real tree. It just smells right. And let's face it, no plastic, wired together with metal, assembly required, heap of faux tree parts looks like a real tree. However, my husband is allergic (or so he swears) so I haven't had the joy of daily watering or vacuuming up pine needles for several Christmas's.

It is my job to "fluff" the tree. Go ahead, I know what you pervs are thinking. Just insert your favorite "fluffer" innuendo here. Yeah, yeah I'm a fucking professional fluffer. Anyway, I hate fluffing the damn tree. It's just a mockery of my desperate longing for a real tree. Real tree's come already fluffed. GOD makes them that way. I am merely human so when I fluff the tree it is a time consuming, tedious chore. I'm always frustrated when it still looks like the gapped, plastic, junk that it is after I've fluffed for hours. The worst part of the job is repeatedly thrusting my sweet, delicately complected, supple arms into the sharp and pointy depths of the tree. The inside of my fore arms look and feel as though they've been mauled by hundreds of angry kittens. If I wanted that sort of damage I'd volunteer at the animal shelter.

What got me into such a bah-hum-bug mood? I don't know. My husband and I met and fell in love during the Christmas season. The holidays have been extra special to me ever since. This year it feels like our relationship is one big mess. I guess that has me feeling a little blue. Apparently, I won't be alone, 'tis the season to be depressed. Our marriage counselor is over booked through January. "The holidays are a very busy time for us!" She said cheerily when we made our last appointment. Jeezus, that's sad isn't it?

Thankfully, I find sulking and wound licking to be a useless form of self indulgence. (Except for here at my blog.) I got up this morning, looked in the mirror and said "Suck it up, Christine!" I then forced myself to bake Christmas cookies and decorate the previously fluffed plastic tree. I had a pleasant day of playing nice and avoiding arguments. Tonight, we had planned to watch TV together for an hour before my Hubby caught up on some web project he's working on. When the hour was over I was ready to get up but he looked at me and said "I'm really enjoying sitting here, cuddling with you in the glow of the Christmas tree." It was the nicest thing (not to mention the longest sentence) he's said to me in quite some time. I agreed to hang out for a little while longer. Despite that, I am feeling guilty for not being able to fully enjoy the moment. I just couldn't help but doubt his sincerity. He opens these tiny windows from time to time and lets the fresh air in for a minute, an hour, sometimes a whole day. When he closes them again I'm left feeling even more stifled than before. I have begun to dread the breeze. It's nothing more than a whisper of what I really want.


Friday, November 26, 2004

Post Thanksgiving Blues

Well, Thanksgiving has come and gone. My Mom's pecan pie was lackluster. In protest, I chose not to eat any. I told her not to screw with our traditional recipe ever again. I had pumpkin instead. I made them myself, the old fashioned way and they were perfect! My daughter was over tired because she refused to nap at my Mom's and was a snotty, screaming, dirty mess by the time we left. We didn't even stick around for seconds or the traditional, post feast guys against girls, game of Trivial Pursuit. My fathers team always wins anyway, through some deviant system of bending the rules and outright cheating.

My husband came to me while our daughter was napping today and was all kisses and cuddles. After the horrible argument we had a couple of days ago, I could have easily given him the cold shoulder. However, It's just not in my nature to be cold, even when I have a right to be cold. We ended up fooling around a little. Just a quick blow job for him and fingering for me. He's feeling guilty for some very nasty things he said to me during that argument. He also knows that our next therapy session is Thursday. I suspect he's trying to keep things civil until then. For me, I just wanted some comfort after the hurtful and frightening things he said the other night. He has let me know on several occasions that he hates the idea of therapy. That it's a waste of time and money. I'm just desperate to somehow turn it around, make it better, make it feel right again. For today anyway, things feel pleasant. We are playing happy family. Still, I worry in the back of my mind. What will happen to us? And if it were to all fall apart what would happen to me, to my little girl? It makes my head hurt so I try not to think so much. I'm just trying to enjoy today as much as possible.

I have an old friend in who lives in Florida. She and her husband have a little girl about 4 and they just found out she's pregnant with twins. It was quite the shock since she was on birth control pills. They are having a tough time financially so I have offered to give them all the baby stuff we saved after my little one was born. We saved it because I had hoped to have another baby despite how difficult it was to get pregnant with my daughter. However, we tried a year of intense fertility treatment for baby number two and the doctors finally suggested that we give up. I was really torn up about not having another baby when we first found out. Now, I've come to accept it and see that in a lot of ways it's probably for the best.

Despite being over it, I cried my eyes out when I sent my friend all my maternity clothes. I was sad that I'd never be pregnant again, never feel life grow and move inside me. Today I packed up all my daughter's baby things and my friend's sister is going to drive them to her. The bassinet where we first laid her down to sleep, the swing, all the precious little clothes, are packed away neatly in boxes. I could remember, with aching clarity, my baby wearing each little outfit, each tiny pair of booties. She has grown up so fast. I kept a few things. The handmade and finely embroidered christening gown that she never got to wear because the church refused to grant me an annulment from my first marriage. The outfit she wore when we brought her home from the hospital, the tie-dyed t-shirt and bib that my husband bought for her before we even knew if she'd be a boy or a girl. The boxes to be sent to Florida are organized and stacked in the garage waiting for a new home. I feel good about it. My friend really needs these things and we certainly don't. Still, I feel a little ache in my heart over the loss of those items or maybe the loss of need for them.


Wednesday, November 24, 2004

In the holiday spirit (Sexual Content)

With the last of the pies in the oven Julie and Kate grabbed the half empty bottle of wine off the kitchen counter and headed for the couch. They flopped down like giddy teenagers at a sleep over. Kate was thrilled to have her friend in from Florida for Thanksgiving. Julie had been a huge help in the kitchen preparing for the big day. They'd caught up on all the gossip, did a little man bashing and Julie entertained Kate with her amazing, single girl, sex stories. Now it was past midnight and they turkey was slathered with herbed butter and staying cold in the fridge till it's big debut. The pies were baking, the cranberry jello mold was getting firm, everything was ready for tomorrow's feast.

Kate's husband and children were at the other end of the house sound asleep. Pouring another plastic tumbler full of wine for herself Julie confided that despite her fun and unencumbered lifestyle she sometimes longed for the domestic life. She was a bit envious of Kate with her cozy little house and cute children. Not to mention, Kate's husband was quite a catch. A big, broad shouldered guy with thick auburn hair and a great smile. Earlier in the day Julie had overheard Kate and her hubby exchanging a little dirty talk. Kate had mumbled something to him about whether or not they should stuff the turkey and he had boldly informed her that the only thing he wanted to stuff was her tight little pussy. Julie had blushed and moved away before they even knew she had been there. Still, the idea of Kate getting her "tight little pussy" stuffed was enough to make Julie's panties a little damp.

Julie was feeling horny and brave from wine consumption. As Kate prattled on about the pros and cons of married life Julie began to wonder what her dear friend looked like beneath the worn jeans and Old Navy t-shirt she was wearing. She eyed Kate's full breasts with admiration and wondered if her husband had ever held them together and thrust his big, erect, dick between them. "Hellooooo.. Earth to Julie!" Kate called, bringing her back to reality, "are you even listening to me?"

"I'm sorry, Kate! I was just thinking about, um I was thinking..." Julie was blushing and stammering, trying to think of the right thing to say. She couldn't very well tell her dear friend that she was imagining her in various compromising positions. Or could she? She could always just blurt out something like that and if Kate seemed appalled she'd just say she was joking. Julie licked her lips and grinned a bit before saying "I was just thinking that I'm really horny right now!" As soon as the sentence was away from her lips Julie cringed. She was sure Kate was going to be shocked, possibly offended. Much to her surprise Kate giggled devilishly and said "Oooooh me too! After listening to all your wild tales I'm absolutely turned on!"

Julie felt a wave of sexual excitement rush over her. Her nipples stiffened, her cunt spasmed and a little gush of wetness seemed to squish into her panties. She looked at Kate, who's eyes were heavy, seductive even. She saw Kate's large breasts heaving and knew she was breathing hard. Julie sat her little plastic cup of Corbet Canyon on the coffee table and put her sweaty hand on Kate's knee. Kate put her cup down too and they stared at each other for a minute both of them awkward. Both wanting to start something but not knowing how. It was Julie that broke the tension when she leaned over and gave Kate a kiss on the mouth. It was a closed mouth kiss, no wet tongues or sucking noises but it lasted a long time. Kate didn't seem surprised or reluctant so Julie leaned in again, this time parting Kate's lips with her tongue and sucking at her mouth gently.

After the kiss everything happened quickly. Kate's t-shirt and bra were pushed up in haste so Julie could suck each rosy nipple while lightly pinching the other. Julie's blouse was unbuttoned, her front closure bra opened as Kate's soft warm hands groped her breasts appreciatively. As Julie helped Kate out of her jeans she could actually smell the sweet musk of her cunt. Kate spread her legs brazenly, offering Julie a perfect view of her smooth lips, already slick with juices. Julie held her thighs open and nuzzled the tuft of soft hair above Kate's clit. Kate could feel Julie's hot breath on her sensitive clit and began to whimper and wriggle in anticipation. Julie licked at her cunt teasingly at first. Working her tongue along the lips of Kate's drooling pussy before pulling them apart lapping up the sweet, oozing, wetness.

Kate looked down in ecstasy, watching her old friend perform this intimate act. She moaned and begged Julie to stop teasing her and lick her clit. Julie obliged, barely flicking her tongue across it at first and then gently taking it between her lips, treating it like a tiny cock, sucking and fucking it with her hot mouth. Kate wrapped her hands in Julie's curly, dark hair, holding Julie's face to her swollen and drippy cunt. She began to grind her hips against Julie's magic mouth, she bit her lip in an effort not to cry out, not to wake her family. Sensing Kate's impending orgasm Julie let her lips be forced hard against Kate's twat. Her tongue worked as fast as possible against Kate's hard clit until finally Kate began to tremble and then moan deeply as she reached climax.

Kate let go of Julie's head and Julie moved up to kiss her, the taste of pussy still on her lips. It was quiet while each of them caught their breath. Suddenly nervous, Julie wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake, if she'd ruined their friendship somehow. She looked up and began to speak in a hurried manner, "Oh Kate, I hope you liked it, I don't know what got into me, I'm sure we shouldn't have but we were both so horny and, and..." Kate was looking at her with an amused smirk. "Dammit, Kate! Say something!" Julie insisted.

With a sigh of exaggerated exasperation, Kate announced, "YOUR TURN!"

Happy Thanksgiving Everybody!


Monday, November 22, 2004

Hey Pretty Baby, did you forget about me?

I made a slight error in judgment tonight. As I headed for my ritualistic late evening bath I grabbed one of my old journals off the bookshelf. I was looking for a rather long and nicely detailed bit of erotica I remembered writing in it many years ago. I was thinking of revamping the piece. I intended to read it with new eyes in the bright light of my bathroom. I figured I'd see if it could inspire one of my famous bath time self pleasuring sessions. I figured if it wasn't as good as I'd remembered I have plenty of other pretty images floating around in my head and self pleasuring would still be an option.

The journal is one I kept from June until November of 1999. It was the time just before I met my husband. I was single, working full time, going to school full time and living with three roomates. It had been a year since my divorce from Dan (not his real name) was finalized but I was still in contact with him. In fact I was still in love with him. Memories of that painful drama were the fartherest thing from my mind when I started flipping through the pages. I was looking for a dirty story about a prissy little blonde chick I wanted to bed at the time. Instead, several letters and printed e-mails fluttered out of the beaten up book and landed at my feet. Demanding I shift my focus.

I remembered instantly stuffing them into the pages of that journal. I had sorted them by date and then filed them among the entries with corresponding or similar dates. Suddenly, the bandage of time was yanked off my wounds. I read my words and Dan's as they were at that precise moment and the pain of it all took my breath away. There was the long e-mail he sent apologizing for all the evil and sad things he'd done to me, asking me to please be his friend. There were the agonizing e-mails from me, confessing that I still loved him, forgiving him for sins that I probably shouldn't have. There were the entries in my journal describing in detail the clandestine meetings in hotel rooms during those months. Meetings where I was free to be making that mistake but he was not. There, in strong black handwriting, was my smug sense of satisfaction about his new adultery, He was my husband first! I wrote. As if that made it right.

Lastly, there were his letters expressing his grief over getting his new wife, Elizabeth, pregnant and leaving me. His insistence that despite all the pain he'd caused me, he still loved me more than anyone, seems crazy now. Yet at that time it seemed not only sane but beautiful and comforting. He called me Pretty Baby. That was always his pet name for me. In the last letter I saved, he wrote, I never have and never will call anyone else my Pretty Baby, you are my one and only. I believed him then and maybe it was true. It was all very sad and sick really when I look at it from my older and wiser perspective.

Oddly enough, the subject of my relationship to him has come up lately in conversations with friends and I've loosened my lips and told some painful truths about my marriage to Dan. Dan slowly became emotionally and sexually abusive as our relationship progressed. As teenagers we were just horny high school sweethearts. After he joined the military he morphed into a frightening Jekyl and Hyde character. Toward the end of our marriage he did things to me that I am too scarred from to even mention here. At least not in this post. So, I found it disturbing that I wrote these letters. These damatic, romance novel quality letters, that had fallen from my journal. I felt so heavy with grief for that young woman, the one who was in love with a man who'd tortured her physically and emotionally. It is surreal to read them. I am no longer that person, that lonely, confused, brain-washed girl.

Still, a flood gate of memories has been opened. For the first couple of years after he left I saw his face everytime I closed my eyes. The sandy blond, buzz cut hair against tanned skin and brown eyes. His smile and the dimple in his chin haunted me nightly. Now I rarely dream of him. I'm afraid tonight will be one of those rare occasions. I feel like letting his memory linger, just for tonight, his words, his promises, his misdeeds have free reign.


Sunday, November 21, 2004

Who are you and what have you done with my husband? (Sexual Content)

This is a question I actually asked my spouse earlier this evening. I had planned to write my girl on girl post tonight and I took off for the retreat of my garden tub as soon as my little one was asleep. I emerged from the bath aroused, my mind in writing mode, words and phrases playing hop scotch on the sidewalk of my brain. I pulled on a soft pair of pajama bottoms and dug around for a t-shirt. All I could find was a shirt that was two sizes too small that said "Did I go to college for this?" in black letters across the front. I pulled it on anyway. It hugged my breasts, provocatively, my nipple rings obvious beneath the worn out fabric. I looked in the mirror and had a rather narcissistic thought about how god-damned gorgeous my own tits were.

As I sauntered into the livingroom my husband was standing in the front of the TV fiddling with the computer console he has programmed to run all the entertainment systems in our house. I had a sudden impulse to point out my small shirt. "Who's shirt was this?" I asked, looking down at it stretched across my huge breasts. He was barely distracted from his task and said it had been his but that it was always too small for him too. Then, without warning he put down the expensive remote control, the one he'd thrown against the wall during our last fight and then spent hours piecing back together. He looked down at me and said "There's a hole in the shoulder." I looked too and noticed the rip in the seam which bulged open, a tiny piece of my lightly olive skin peeping through. He barely touched my shoulder and I got the sense that I actually had his attention for once. Emboldened by this thought, I grabbed both his hands and placed them on my breasts. We both felt my nipples harden beneath this forced touch and he pulled back. I assumed that was the end of it and moved away before I could be further humiliated by his usual rejection.

To my surprise, he held onto me. "Wait," he said, "I wasn't finished." I looked back at him and was surprised to see a mischevious smile on his face. The first real smile I'd seen all week. I turned to him and he began groping my tits like it was his idea all the time. The mere suggestion that he wanted to touch me got me aroused. That, coupled with the flow of naughty thoughts I had unleashed in order to get into my next erotic story had me wet instantly. I shoved him, harder than I meant to, onto the couch. I climbed onto his lap. I shoved my tongue in his mouth, dry humping him, moaning and whimpering with need. He let me force the issue, let me undo his pants and pull them down to his ankles. He was characteristically quiet, the only give away to his arousal was his erection.

I whispered for him to come to bed with me and actually lead him by his hard dick to our room. I stripped out of my clothes and got on my hands and knees at the edge of the bed. I let my legs spread wide, knowing my flushed and dripping cunt would be visible to him as he stood behind me. I felt his hands on my ass and then the head of his hot tool slipping against the folds of my slick cunt. The head tickling my engorged clit before dipping inside me. We played at this for a while. He'd fuck me slow, standing beside the bed while I writhed and panted, reaching underneath me to rub myself. He'd occasionally pull out and run his fevered member, slippery with my juices over my sensitive and exposed asshole. I let my fingertips slide along his cock as it went in and out, brushing his balls when he was completely inside. He seemed to be getting close and I was not ready to give up this rare treat. This rare moment when he seemed to actually be enjoying himself instead of laboring through our sexual encounter like it was some annoying household chore. I crawled away from him, letting his dick slip out and away from the heat of my hungry twat. I turned over and looked into his eyes which were black, stormy and intense. "What do you want?" I asked seductively. He let his knees rest on the edge of the bed and propped several pillows against the head board. "Lay down on the pillows." he said calmly. I did as he suggested.

I had completely forgotten about the soft restraints we had tied to the bed more than a year ago. We had only used them once, half-heartedly. Now, my husband was pulling them out from their hidden home beneath the mattress. He grabbed one of my wrists and securely attached the cuff. In an excited daze I offered the other wrist and it was cuffed as well. "What I want," He said with an angry edge in his voice, " is for you to shut up and let me have my way." My heart beat hard in my chest. This was just like our early encounters when he and I were dating. He would appear so reserved. He never made the first move and I would tease and tease until he snapped. At the time, that was the thrill of it. He was different than all the other men who constantly had to be pushed off and away. He was a challenge. I took great delight in dragging this assertive sexual being out of him. Unfortunately, the novelty of that wore off for both of us years ago. Still, at that moment, tied to our king sized bed, I basked in the glow of his lust. Letting it make my skin all feverish and sweaty.

He brought out the toys. He never let me actually see them before he assaulted me with them. Kneeling between my legs, he gave me no choice or warning when he squirted lube onto my tender ass and began to work a smooth small dildo in and out of my most private space. I ached with the need to touch my breasts, my clit, him but could do nothing more than beg and wriggle with my arms tied above my head. He eventually used his tongue on my needy pussy while he filled me completely with toys. He made me cum twice before I told him I needed a rest from the intensity. Of course, he continued slightly longer, to remind me he was in charge. Finally, when I was near weeping from having cum until I was tender and raw he sat all the toys aside and put his cock in the sloppy wet places they had been. He grabbed the headboard for traction, something he rarely does, and pounded me while I cried out and encouraged him, still straining against the binds. When he came he shuddered and groaned loudly. I could actually feel his dick pulsing as each squirt erupted inside me.

As he undid my cuffs I asked the question. "Who are you and what have you done with my husband?" I posed it playfully. A satisfied smile on my face. He answered, with a sarcastic sneer "It's still me." As he slid off the bed he continued, "See? I'm getting up and leaving, just like I always do." He threw me a towel from the chest near the bathroom and left to clean himself up.


Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Dirty Little Secrets

In the interest of preventing a complete and total nervous breakdown I am trying not to post anything emotionally draining or sexually arousing tonight. I think a break from that would do us all some good, eh?

Here are 5 of my dirty little secrets. Of course, I have many secrets that I'll never post. Okay, some of the secrets I am posting aren't all that secret anymore and aren't all that dirty either. Whatever, you get the point. Here they are:

1. I developed very early. They called it Precocious Puberty. I started getting breasts and pubic hair when I was six. I had my first period when I was nine. My poor parents did not know what to do. They took me to the doctor and I was sent to military hospitals all over the country to be "studied." If you are wondering how I came to be such a twisted girl, imagine this: You're six years old, naked on a hospital table, with seven or eight military doctors examining your genitals and talking about you like you are a lab animal. Disturbing, isn't it?

2. When I was twelve my father was deployed for an entire year, overseas. My mother, sisters and I went to live with my maternal grandparents. A distant cousin of mine, who was 16, had been removed from her parents custody and was also living with my grandparents. Somehow, she and my grandfather ended up having an affair and she got pregnant. My grandfather was the center of my family's world. His sin nearly destroyed us. My grandmother was on suicide watch and my Mother and Aunt would go out at night, with weapons, prowling the streets for my cousin. I believe they would have killed her if they'd found her. Then she lost the baby and moved away. My grandfather begged forgiveness from all of us and was allowed back into the family fold with no questions asked.

3. I almost lost my virginity when I was 15 in the mosquito filled woods near my house. The boy, who was 18, thought he'd had sex with me and I was too embarrassed to tell him he never actually penetrated me. He was just rubbing his penis in the dry folds of my vagina. He asked if I was sore afterwards and I said yes, because I was bruised and raw from his attempts. He dumped me within days but was sure to tell everyone he'd popped my cherry. The joke is on you G.H. You never got inside!

4. In my junior year of highschool I agreed to let a classmate tutor me in Algebra. In exchange, I would write his research paper for our English class and only charge him $25. I ended up fogging up the windows of his Honda and stealing his virginity. In my defense, he started it and he didn't put up much resistance. I thought he'd keep our secret because we both would be screwed (in a less literal way) if it got out. We were both going steady with other people. However, within 24 hours it was all over the school. He gathered all his buddies in the parking lot that morning and told them I "Rode him like he was a mechanical bull." while high-fiving and laughing. I was mortified and simply denied the whole incident. I even let my boyfriend, who would later become my first husband, beat the shit out of him and get in-school-suspension. I never told anyone the truth and I think most people came away believing he was the liar. Whaaaaaaat??? I was 16 for fuck sake! Cut me some slack!

5. When I was newly divorced and struggling to survive I worked at local hotel. I worked the night shift alone at least 3 nights a week. When I was working alone, I stole. I don't mean I just took a couple of towels. I refurbished my empty apartment. Sheets, blankets, pillows, towels, dishes, lamps, and furniture with the help of an accomplice. I also did my "shopping" there. Soap, shampoo, lotion, cleaning supplies, toilet paper, and paper towels, continental breakfast items such as, bagels, cereal, juice, fruit, instant oatmeal, muffins, mini-quiches all came home with me. While I worked at the hotel I lived entirely off of continental breakfast and ramen noodles. (This is not my dirtiest hotel secret. I'm saving that for a naughty post!)

Now. What are some of your dirty secrets? Feel free to e-mail if they are too dirty for comments!



I take deep breaths and try to force myself to relax but the two words are mutually exclusive. You can stick force and relax together in a sentence but you can't make them cooperate in real time. I am grinding my teeth. I put the tips of my fingers in my mouth to prevent my jaw from clenching tightly. This is a habit I developed in childhood, not really sucking my fingers, just feeling he comfort of them in my mouth. Obviously, I am orally fixated. I wonder if this is why I love kissing and oral sex. I am so comforted by something warm and textured, a tongue, an erect penis, an engorged clitoris, between my lips. It's like nursing. It's like food for the starved.

Yes, this is about my sexual needs and at the same time it's something else. My crotch is hot and alive with raw nerves, aching to be touched. It is slick in preparation for attention it never seems to receive. My nipples are erect to the point of discomfort. The hand that isn't distracted by my nibbling mouth finds the tender tips of my breasts and strokes them lightly. I consider going further. I consider making myself cum, attempting some sort of release but that is not what I crave. I cannot replace missing whispers and the wanting body of another soul. I give up the thought because it will only arouse my need.

Every time I use my own devices. My own thrusting with objects or hands, those acts become less satiating. They relieve less tension. They only serve as a reminder of the unbearable distance, the impossibilities. Touching myself only emphasizes my need for connection. My fingers rub raw the reality of being overlooked, of being alone even when I am not. So I do not indulge and I try not to bite my lip or chew my nails. I try not to cry because crying is silly and would be noticed. Even if it's not silly I'm afraid I wouldn't be able stop. I am afraid I will sob until I wake the dead. Awakening old wounds that would fester and make this so much worse and now is not the time.

I am so sleepy but I can not find the breathing rhythm needed to escape into darkness. A huge, brightly colored beast sits on my chest. It threatens to smother me. It screams to be acknowledged. I can shut my eyes but it's weight will not be ignored. I admit there is nothing I want more than a mouth on my mouth and to be held close and rocked by mutual needs. I keep my fingers in my mouth. A tear gets loose from my tired eyes, and spills over my lower lashes. I blink it's brothers and sisters out of my stinging eyes. Quiet, controlled weeping is safe. This almost feels like coming, wet, salty, hot on my face as it wells up and rushes out. The beast shifts it's weight and I am breathing again. Dreams envelope me. I am succumbing to sweet sleep.


Tuesday, November 16, 2004

Abby, Will and Jake, Part two (Sexual Content Continued)

Using the sliver chain attached to her collar, Will pulled Abby away from Jake's now pulsing cock. A thin, sticky, string of spit and precum stretched from the head of Jake's penis to her lower lip. She licked it in a hungry manner and looked to Will for instructions. Jake sat at the edge of the bed, with one hand stroking his cock as it cooled from Abby's fevered attentions. He had figured out that Will was calling the shots, so he tried not to protest. Will pulled Abby up to a stand and she let her head fall back so he could explore her mouth his tongue. She could feel his excitement probing at her back. He hooked his thumbs into the satin panties and began to pull them slowly off her hips until they fell to the floor. She kicked them aside and stood with her legs wider apart than necessary, the scent from her quaking cunt wafting through the air. Will tugged at her nipples as he rubbed his stiff member in the small of her back. "Do you want to fuck him?" He asked her. "Do you want to feel his hard cock deep inside you?" His questions seemed to hang in the air like ozone after lightning, making Abby tremble with need.

"Can I?" She asked in a begging tone. "Can you, what?" Will asked firmly, tugging the silver leash, while his other hand toyed with her soft neck where it wasn't covered by the collar. "Can I fuck Jake?" She whimpered. Jake let out a bit of a groan. The very thought of her spreading her legs and letting him into her slick heat made him ache with desire. Will whispered something in her ear. An instruction of some sort. The sudden secrecy only heightened Jake's state of desperation. Abby looked momentarily surprised and then gave an evil little giggle. Unbeknownst to Jake, Will had done some research. Will, being pretty handy with technology and more or less in charge of the office had done some digging into Jake's internet history. So he was clued in to Jake's more deviant desires. Since he was the conductor of this little symphony he wanted to make sure everyone, including Jake, had the best experience possible. "Go," Will commanded Abby, "make our new friend happy. I'll be right behind you."

Jake scooted up and back as she climbed on top of him. Will gave her a couple of sharp smacks across the ass to hurry her along. She and Jake were kissing like mad, not coming up for air. Abby needed little guidance to find his raging hard on. In one swift move she was impaled. Both of them panting and rocking. True to his word, Will was right behind her. His hand roamed between the cheeks of her ass, finding it lubed from her own super wet cunt. She rode Jake hard but not too fast, keeping them both away from the edge to prolong the pleasure. Every thrust filled her, stretching her open, while increasing the fiction on her hard clit. Will was probing her ass with his big fingers now. He still held the chain, keeping it taut, reminding her it was there. First one finger, then two, filling her ass like Jake was filling her pussy. She was loudly expressing her pleasure. Whimpers becoming, moans, becoming a stream of dirty phrases. She told Jake how good his cock felt, told Will to fill her tight ass and told them both that she loved what they were doing to her.

Will took her last request seriously and aimed his big cock at her wildly humping backside. He matched the rhythm and slowly entered her backdoor. The three of them gasp in unison, her ass was tighter than ever, both men could feel the pressure from the other, separated by the thin wall of perineum. Abby felt like the world was spinning. It hurt a little but it felt so good, to be so full, to be so totally invaded by these two men, these two big cocks. They managed to find a comfortable pace and were all close to cumming. Will remained more composed than Jake and Abby who were both babbling, incoherent, saying they needed to cum. Will murmured something to Abby and a mischievous grin emerged from her intense expression. She ran her hands up Jake's chest to his neck. She caressed his strained muscles and looked into his eyes as she wrapped her small hands around his neck and squeezed just a bit. This was Will's secret instruction.

Jake's eyes flung open wide. He was shocked but obviously excited. He fucked her back harder than before and Will smiled that dimpled, devilish grin, proud of his research. Abby concentrated on the two of them working in and out of her and she could feel the orgasm welling up, taking over. As she tipped over the edge she closed her hands around Jake's neck a little tighter. His face was red, his dick was throbbing in her pussy and all the while Will worked his cock in and out of her ass with expert strokes. The sensations overwhelmed her. Wills hands gripping her butt cheeks hard, The look on Jake's face as he struggled for air and came close to exploding inside her, the constant pumping of her holes, the pain, the pleasure. "Yes! Fuck yes!" She cried out and suddenly she was gripping both cocks with the contractions of her climax. As she came she released Jake's throat and he breathed deeply and shoved his dick deep into her, filling her with hot cum. Will was close behind and as her knees and arms were failing her, Abby braced herself by holding tight to Jake who was delirious from the whole experience. "Cum Will, Please!" Abby begged. Will smiled and fucked her ass faster, letting the silver chain go slack against her sweaty back. She was spent, just the way he'd planned for her to be. He pulled out and shot spurt after spurt of steamy jism onto her shaking body. Exhausted, the three of them struggled to untangle. They fell back onto the bed, a sweat, cum soaked, trio. Abby warmly curled up between the guys. They were too worn out for talking.


Sunday, November 14, 2004

Abby, Will and Jake, Part One (Sexual Content as Promised)

Abby had been involved with married men before but this affair with Will was slightly different. She had met him on a business trip to her company's northern office. They had a chemistry she'd never come across in all her adventures. Their minds were connected, they were so much alike it was frightening. This connection eliminated the need for a lot careful sexual experimentation. Abby and Will didn't need to hide any of their darker fantasies, they already sensed those fantasies in one another. So when Will began to tell her about the new guy in the Detroit office, Jake, she knew what he was hinting at. On the next trip she paid special attention to Jake, while Will watched from a comfortable distance. Will watched proudly as she let Jake see her adjusting her thigh high stockings right at his desk. She found excuses to bend deeply in front of him, picking up a stray paper clip or reaching for something on a low shelf, her deep cut shirt falling completely open. At the end of the first work day Will was quick to invite Jake and Abby out for dinner. Jake, unsuspecting of their little plot but well teased by Abby, went along quite willingly.

Dinner started out mostly shop talk and moved toward more personal conversation after a couple of glasses of wine. Once everyone was loosened up Abby and Will let down the business partner facade and began to toy with one another openly at the table. Jake was at first a bit shy and embarrassed but when Will excused himself to go to the men's room Abby ran her hand up Jake's thigh. She asked if he was turned on from watching their public display. She let her hand find his erection and Jake grinned and blushed, his hard on answering for him. With her hand still on his crotch, she leaned in and kissed him, letting her tongue dart into his mouth. His cock throbbed in her hand and she gave it a little squeeze under the table. They both jumped a bit when Will cleared his throat behind him. "I think you two are shocking the hell out of the other diners." He said. Abby pulled away from Jake to see Will smiling wickedly, dimples flashing, and the other restaurant patrons staring curiously. The check was paid quickly and the three of them found their way to Abby's hotel room.

They entered the room and Jake looked around nervously. He seemed a little unsure of the situation. Will announced that he was going to hop in the shower and let Jake and Abby get better acquainted. Once alone together Abby and Jake continued the play they began at the restaurant. Jake was a wonderful kisser and Abby didn't let her mouth leave his until she trailed her kisses down his neck and she helped him out of his shirt. She kissed her way down his broad chest and sunk to her knees in front of him while he sat on the bed. She undid his belt and slowly unzipped his fly. His cock was rock hard, and oozing with pre-cum which had soaked through his underwear. She gave his dick a sucking kiss through the damp fabric of his shorts and he moaned softly, running his hand through her hair. She removed his pants completely and admired his 8 inch pole, standing at attention, practically pulsing with need. Abby ran her tongue lightly up the underside of his cock and felt him shiver. Cupping his balls in one hand she wrapped the other hand around the bottom of his shaft before sucking the large head into her mouth. He reached down and undid the buttons of her blouse as she worked his cock. Her lace demi-bra was barely restraining her heavy tits and Jake reached into the cups to feel her hard nipples, causing her to whimper around a mouthful of his engorged cock.

Will didn't spend too long in the shower. Jake and Abby were so focused on what they were doing that they barely noticed him come back onto the scene. "She's good at that isn't she?" Will asked Jake. Abby, released his dick from the hot heaven of her mouth and looked up at Will who was completely nude, his thick cock already hard as steel. She smiled at his compliment. Will told her to get up and finish undressing. Abby stood in front of Jake and made show of removing her open shirt and bra. She fondled each of her full tits appreciatively as Jake watched. She slipped off her skirt and stood there in her white satin lace panties and thigh high stockings as Will reached for an item that had gone largely unnoticed until now. It was a small leather collar with a delicate silver chain. Jake watched in surprised interest as Will put it around Abby's neck. He was asserting his role as the one in charge here. Tonight would be a night for Abby to obey Will and no one else. She would be at his mercy and would give nothing to Jake without his approval from that moment forward. Will pulled her close with the chain and gave her a hard kiss before smacking her lightly on the ass. "Get back on your knees and suck his cock like a good girl." Will told her. Abby gave a knowing smirk and did as she was told.

Jake hardly had time to contemplate the dynamics of it all before he was lost in the sensation of his cock being taken all the way down Abby's throat. She sucked and slurped with new vigor and Jake couldn't help but be further excited by her collar and the sight of Will holding the leash while he watched her. Abby had worn the collar before. She liked the feel of it around her neck, the ownership it represented. She trusted Will to command her like this. She knew that Will's demanding she wear it was as much for her pleasure as his. Will's hand caressed her ass and slipped into her silky panties to feel how hot and slippery her cunt had become. "You love sucking his cock, don't you Abby?" Will whispered in her ear. She wriggled her hips humping his hand and he continued to whisper to her. "You don't have to answer out loud. Keep your beautiful mouth on his cock, your pussy tells me what you like." Will continued. She was already fighting the urge to cum as he stroked her swollen pussy lips letting his fingers brush her clit. Jake was likewise battling the urge as he fucked Abby's pretty mouth and listened to Will talk dirty to her. Will, seeing that the situation was getting out of hand, decided it was time for a change of pace...


Saturday, November 13, 2004


I promised a sexy post this weekend and I always keep my promises. Still, I have to get some crap off my chest before I start writing and masturbating with passionate abandon. The naughty post will come later.

Even in the early days of our relationship, when everything was shiny, new and infatuation reigned supreme, my husband remained slightly distant. It's just part of his introverted nature. You rarely know what he's really thinking. I learned a long time ago to read his eyes and his body language for clues about his mood but over time even those signals have become hard to decipher. Right now, he is in one of the worst funks I have ever witnessed and I've seen him through several. He is calling it stress. He is calling it mild depression. Really, it's fear. He's gripped by it, unable to see beyond it or rise above it. He is afraid of losing his job, afraid of losing his health and afraid of losing me or more precisely, the family we've created.

That distance was obvious when I asked if I could go riding with him today. Our daughter was napping, safely looked after by two adoring grandparents. I just wanted to be alone with him before I headed back north for my 24 hours of freedom. He shrugged. He said "Sure." He warned me that it would be a muddy ride but I would not be deterred. The great thing about riding the ATV out on the farm is that you can get to the best places on his family's land. The 4-wheeler will crawl over briars and ford through swamps and streams that would be treacherous on foot. It was much colder today than it's been all year. Grey and misty, the sky mirrored my husband's mood. The wind was freezing as we raced over the terraces of the pasture, and into the woods behind the pond, seeking out the muddy ruts of his favorite trails.

We didn't talk for a long time. You can't really hear over the roar of the engine anyway. The ruts of the trail started to give way to brush and mud and we came to a dead end. Bamboo canes had grown up onto the trail and we couldn't even get the ATV beyond that point. He sat there for a minute contemplating how we should navigate out of the area and I asked him to cut the motor. I asked if we could just sit there for a minute. He looked at me with a question on his face. In the past we'd get into a secluded spot and have a quickie right there on the 4-wheeler. Our clothes askew, sweaty bodies tangled up trying to balance, trying to find a comfortable position. We could pant and moan knowing no one was around for miles. That hasn't happened in a long time and I knew he didn't want it to happen today either. I told him I just wanted to talk and I could see a bit of relief in his face. As much as he hates to talk, he felt talking would be better than the alternative.

I told him I was worried about him. We talked about marriage counseling and he told me that going to counseling was admitting we had problems and he didn't want to face that. We talked for a short time about us, about how things got off track. He couldn't even look me in the eyes while we talked. I covered him in kisses, his ears, his neck, his eyes. He buried his face in my shoulder. I think he was afraid I wanted it to lead to something else but in all honesty, my heart hurt too much for that. We held onto each other and he was hugging me like he meant it. It was probably the most sincere touch he's offered me in many months. Still, it was a very sad embrace. We were like two old friends that haven't seen each other in years and can no longer find a way to relate to one another. I let my tears fall. I just felt helpless. I couldn't make him feel better. I couldn't make myself feel better. I couldn't even promise him we'd be okay.


Thursday, November 04, 2004

Making Up (Sexual Content, obviously)

We sat across the room from one another in silence. We were both trying not to talk about it. Him, because he simply doesn't like to talk. Me, because I can not bear to shed one more pathetic, sloppy tear. We are both tired of fighting. I stepped over the scattered blocks and around a discarded doll to get to the sofa where he was sitting. Curled up in the cushions like a wounded little boy he acted like he didn't even see me. I pushed up against him and wrapped my arms around his tense neck. I kissed the top of his bald head and then brushed my lips against his ear lobe as I whispered "Please, don't be mad at me anymore, angel."

My husbands whole body actually stiffened at the feel of my touch, strengthening his defense against my assault. I couldn't give up that easily. My husband doesn't usually go for make up sex. He doesn't like to even be near me after a big fight. Despite that knowledge, I wanted to comfort him and in the process, comfort myself. I placed my hands gently on either side of his sad face, turning his head to look at me. His eyes were dark and hard and I could see his anger still brewing. I wanted to open my mouth and spew out a thousand words convincing him to let it go but he has never been swayed by my long winded diatribes. Instead I just met his angry glare with my soft, pleading one. I let my green eyes, still damp from the days crying, do my pleading for me. I saw his look soften so I leaned in and kissed him, slow and tender, sucking his bottom lip as we pulled apart.

A bit more relaxed, he put an arm around me. In an effort to make conversation he complained about a bruise on his arm, showing it off as if it was evidence of his bruised ego. I traced the purple mark with my finger. "Does this mean you're too damaged to fuck me?" I purred, my voice sultry and strained with longing. He let out a sigh as my hand wandered to the crotch of his jeans. As much as he was trying to resist, his cock was getting hard. I kissed along his neck, still rubbing his growing erection. I could tell he didn't want me to be dirty, he wanted me to be sweet. So I looked at him lovingly and said something I rarely say, "Please, baby, let's make love." With that, he gave in.

In bed, naked and panting, I began reminding him of the sexual firsts in our relationship. As he sucked one of my pierced nipples I asked "Do you remember the first time we really made out? That night you made me cum in my jeans with your big, skilled hands?" He responded without words, mouth still on my nipple, he let one thick finger slip into my tight, wet pussy. Our play continued until I broke away and found his throbbing cock with my mouth. Lightly licking a bit of precum off the tip, I looked up at his dark eyes, now smokey with lust and took him a little farther down memory lane. "What about the first time I sucked your cock? Do you remember that?" I asked and sucked the head of his dick between my moist lips. He let out a tortured moan but he still had no verbal reply. That's my husband, always the strong, silent type. I slowly slid my mouth over the length of his shaft, letting my tongue dart around as I worked his cock. I still wanted to hear his voice, so I continued my interrogation. "What did you think that night?" I inquired, "was it the best fucking blow job you'd ever had? Was my little mouth as hot as you'd expected it to be?" He was trembling beneath me, losing his composure. "Yes!" he finally admitted and pulled his dick out of my teasing mouth.

That's always my favorite part with him, the place where he finally loses control and lets his guard down. That's always when he breaks the silence and starts spilling the words I need to hear. "Fuck me," he told me. "I want to watch you fuck me." Being the obedient wife I am I straddled his now huge cock and enveloped it with my wet, velvet, box. I sat up right so he had a good view of me rythmically rocking my hips back and forth as I gave him what he wanted. His hands were alternately on my hips and my huge bouncing tits as I rode him hard and fast. I opened the conversation one more time, "Do you remember the first time we fucked?" I asked, "It was just like this, wasn't it? Me on top, you watching me get off on your big dick?" I watched his face get more intense with every word, his eyes never leaving me as screwed him, expertly. "How could I forget!" He moaned out, the sweat beading up on his brow as he fucked me back. "Was it good?" I asked urgently, "was I the best piece of ass you ever had?" That was it for him, he couldn't hold back. He held my hips with big hands, pressing me down on his cock while he shot his load deep inside me. All the while, declaring that I was indeed, the best piece of ass he'd ever had.


Wednesday, November 03, 2004

Emotional Disaster Area

Have you ever cried yourself to sleep and woke up feeling like you have the worlds worst hangover? You know, feeling sick to your stomach, head throbbing, eyes sore and red. That is where I'm at today. I have posted things about my marriage here in the past. Not a full picture, just little windows into my complicated life as wife and mom. I have yet to really tell the story of how I met and fell in love with my husband or the slow but sure mutation of that love. I can't point you back to a post that explains in full how my life reached it's current state of confusion. So I'll just start with this: I called and made an appointment with a marriage counselor this morning.

I guess I've known for a long time now, since I became pregnant with my child, that he was changing and we were headed for trouble. He's slowly become more jealous, more controlling, more hateful, until I feel he's trying to squeeze the very essence of who I am out of me. I have tried time and time again to figure out what he wants, to conform and make him happy. Up until about 3 months ago I was doing my level best not to rock the boat. I don't know what happened. I just woke up one morning and looked at myself in the mirror and could barely find my reflection. I'd stopped expressing myself in any real way. I was just a shadow of who I used to be. The only thing I was being honest with myself about was my love for my family. I had squashed my love for everything else, writing, exploring, socializing, because I couldn't make it fit into the boundaries he has drawn. That moment woke me up. If those things were all part and parcel of my personality when he and I met and fell in love why can't they be part of me now?

That's what spurred the creation of this blog. I just wanted a place where I could be the person I couldn't be in my own house. I could have tried to keep it a secret but I was tired of hiding. I am not ashamed of this blog or who I really am, damn it! This blog is now a huge source of jealousy and suspicion. I should probably be more careful about what I post here, keep the erotica to myself, never write about the problems in my marriage but where's the honesty in that? I am angry that he expects me to be some bland, censored version of myself. If he had met that bland, censored version 5 years ago he'd never have looked twice.

So here I am. Tears streaming down my face, heart aching and my head spinning. The things he says when he's angry make me feel like the lowest form of scum. How can he talk to me like that and then turn and hug me while I'm sobbing? Will therapy fix this? Can it even be fixed? What will happen to me if I can't keep everything together? What happened to the brown eyed farm boy who was so enchanted with my every imperfection? The guy with the dark sense of humor and passionate sexual desires wrapped in a geeky, shy facade? Is it my fault? Am I fucked up or what?


Tuesday, November 02, 2004

Just Below the Surface

I don't like it when people see me cry. I've been taught that crying shows weakness. Still, I find myself weeping at the lyrics in a sad song or as I watch my precious daughter sleeping. I'm obviously not shy or afraid of my sexuality but the term "love making" scares me. If I admitted it was an act of love, of unconditional surrender, that would make me terribly vulnerable. For all my graphic sexual descriptions and my suck it up attitude I am surprisingly soft underneath my thick skin. Secretly, even my raunchiest, most depraved sexual fantasies are hiding emotional scars and tender endearments.

What I really want is to nurture and be nurtured. I want to seek out my lover when he is hurting or worn down and stroke the broadness of his chest while kissing the space on his neck, just below his ear. I want to whisper that it will be OK. I want to lay down, naked, next to him and let the heat from our bodies heal the days wounds. I want to chatter about everything and nothing until the unpleasant noises we've been subjected to earlier in the day fade into quiet. On a night like tonight, when I've been thinking about battles lost and dreams faded, I'd love to feel his big hand, heavy and hot on the small of my back. I could just close my eyes and listen to his voice. Let his words wash over me, cleanse me of these disturbing thoughts and let my smile slip back into place. I am not as tough or jaded as I sometimes seem.

I am not as tough or jaded as I'd like to be.

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