40-Year Old Pleasure Party Virgin

Pleasure Party: def. an event held in the privacy of one's home in which friends are invited to peruse products of sexual nature, e.g. lotions, lubes, dildos, cockrings, vibrators, whips, etc... This ain't no Tupperware party, baby.

My dearest friend from my college days sent me an invitation to a "Pleasure Party" at her house. Hmmm...pleasure party, I thought. I knew exactly what it entailed and I looked forward to it. I had never gone to one of these things, and have wondered about them - what is sampled, displayed or demonstrated. And how it's done.

All in all it was pretty tame, considering what's really in the catalog. Lots of the things that were shown were standard, and rather practical. The most interesting thing to me was a male masturbator. (No it's not a real guy...) This 'product' looked like a bumpy cylinder shaped mass of squishy silicone, translucent gray and somewhat tacky and gummy. Didn't look like anything provocative, in fact it didn't look like anything at all. Could have been a stress ball thing or a kids toy. Kinda ugly, not at all something that would be appealing to the eye...unless you knew what it was for. The rep demonstrated its use on a rather giant glass dildo, but when I finally got the thing in my hands, I realized how intricate it was. There was a small opening about the size of a straw on one end and when I put my fingers in it, I could feel the texture inside - soft, bumpy, squishy (there was lube in there from the demo in case you were wondering). Like a vagina, I thought. There were ridges & nubbies inside of it all the way through the full length of it. I held it up to the light and inspected it - reminded me of the shape of an earthworm. It was stretchy too, so the texture inside would change depending on the degree to which you contracted or stretched the thing. Also, it was open-ended, so the head of the penis sticks out the other end - hmmm... thought, now there's a different kind of hand job. And blow job....because this thing was stretchy, you could pull it over the head and it would create suction! Pretty freakin' impressive. I could go on, but maybe that's something for another post...someday.

Not going to tell you whether I bought the thing or not, but I will say that I dropped a hundred bucks on edible lubes and shaving products. Can't wait to try those out.

My pleasure party virgin days are over. Aren't you glad? I sure am.

Giving Up

In the realm of sexual pleasure, I've been a slave to my thoughts, rather than my physical desires for most of my life. Like many young people, what I thought was sensual had been formed and based judgements on what society finds acceptable among taboo subjects like sex, not based on anything I had personal experience with.

One of my favorite children's books by Russel Hoban called Bread and Jam for Frances, in which a little bear, Frances expands her epicurian horizons from the familiar jam sandwiches to other foods. There's a line in there where she exclaims to her mother, who's fixing her the requisite jam sandwich 'how do you know what I'll like if you don't even try me?' Such a good rule to live by. Life is about experience and learning what you like by trying it yourself.

Sex had to be with someone I cared about. Sex meant being in a bedroom, dimmed lights or in the dark, missionary style. Blowjobs were messy and dirty and made you gag so they were bad. Anal sex was unsanitary so that was bad too. Porn exploits women. Masturbation wasn't normal. Casual sex was bad because first of all good girls don't do that kind of thing and secondly, you could catch something. Enjoying sex too much was bad. Good girls don't enjoy sex that much. If they do, boyfriend beware...

Somehow notions of sex went from one extreme to the other. From the free love hippie days of my parents generation to the 'just say no' generation to virtually anything pleasurable. So here I am, much farther along in life where I finally realize I should have applied Frances' motto to everything in my life, not just my diet. My sexual appetite is just as important as my normal appetite.

So in recent years I have applied that philosophy, of trying things, opening my mind to possibility. And I'm finding liberation in such exploration.

Awareness & Anticipation

He is in the room. I can feel his energy. Been waiting for it all day long.

This morning's action was merely an appetizer before the buffet of delights that awaited me. Lost count how many times he brought me to the edge, then paused again and again, observing my body's reaction, teasing me. It's one of my favorite games that we play. When I think I can't take it anymore, he enters me again deep inside me for a series of thrusts then stops, his cock motionless inside my pussy. In between my moans of longing, I flash him a smile.

"Like that, baby?" he asks with his velvety voice so deep and lusty. His eyes change quickly from a dark but gentle twinkle to badass motherfucker waiting to give it to me. When his lips part slightly, my heart skips a beat and the ache grows more intense.

"Mmmm" I reply, nodding as I raise up a hand and stick my thumb between his lips. I feel his teeth, his lips, his tongue. Then holding my hand to his mouth, he sucks a couple of my fingers until he feels me clench his cock the way he loves. Tension mounting inside the both of us, he closes his eyes as I throw my head back, caught in waves of delight as he pounds into the depths of me and fills me with his cum. Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure - it fills my brain, washes warm golden all over my body and I fall off that familiar edge into ecstacy.

He knows my body so well, and I know what feels good inside - together our lovemaking is incredible. This is my escape, my release and my nourishment.

That was then, and now he is here, and the ache inside only he can properly fill soon will meet its end. My panties are more than just damp and the thought of his penis hardening when he sees me causes my mouth to water and my nipples to push against the inside of my push up bra. I relish my body's reaction, for it knows what's in store for the hours to come. And come it will, and so will we.

Me And Mrs. Jones

True story.

A while back I had an online lover whom, I must admit, I was a little bit crazy about. Strung me along, played me. Fucker. Of course it didn't work out at all, but whatever.

This was one of his favorite songs.

"Me and Mrs. Jones....we got a 'thing' goin' on..." Barry White. Now there's a man and mmmmm baby, he GETS it. Too bad 'Player' didn't. His loss...thanks for playing. Buh-bye.

But, 'before his time' Me And Mrs. Jones has always been a favorite song of mine. Which probably endeared him to me even more because he liked it so much. Even though I 'got played', when I hear this tune, I think of him and it makes me smile.

Orders

Tell me

Tell me everything
Tell me nothing
Use words
Or use your eyes

Tell me to fuck you
Tell me how much you want me
Tell me to dance for you
Tell me I'm sexy
Tell me how you want to feel my body
Tell me how hard you are
Tell me how wet you are

Tell me to show you
Tell me how you love watching
Tell me you love my body
Tell me to cum
Tell me to scream
Tell me to work you
Tell me to make you cum
Tell me how you like it
Tell me where to put my hands

Tell me how much you love it
Tell me how much you need it
Tell me how much you want me

Tell me you're going to fuck me
Tell me you can't wait to fuck me
Tell me you want to cum in my pussy
Tell me you want to cum in my mouth
Tell me you want to fuck me like a bitch
Tell me you want to fuck me hard
Tell me you're going to tease me
Tell me to beg for it

Tell me how
Tell me when

Use words

Or use your eyes

Tell me with your body
Tell me with your eyes
Tell me with your hands
Tell me with your tongue
Tell me with your fingertips
Tell me with your heat
Tell me with your breath
Tell me with your moans
Tell me to touch myself
Tell me to suck harder
Tell me to choke on it
Tell me you'll fuck my ass
Tell me to lick it
Tell me that you're cumming
Tell me to get ready
Tell me to open my mouth
Tell me how much you love this

Tell me
Now

Apathy

There are some days where I just want to be fucked. Plain and simple. No frills. No scene-setting, no forced building up of tension, no gut-checks. No questions. Few words, a flash of the eyes, a lingering stare, hasty breathing - then ramming speed.

Yes there are days where I long for a gentle touch, a healing kiss. But there are just some days in between where all I want is to be fucked by a beautiful man, then off on my merry way.

Tah-tah!