Me and My Magical Little Clit Button

Originally posted to Adult BackWash: Wednesday September 17, 2003  

His hands were like manacles, grabbing at her, pulling her back towards his muscular manly chest. In her ear he whispered, “Isn’t this the start of a cheesy romance?”

Yes, it could be. But, I’ve saved you! Don’t you feel pleased if not pleasured?

Why did I even write the above, is there any point to it? Not especially. I was just thinking of men’s bodies and the parts I like best. The different things men can do with those parts and how I’d like them to do them.

Back to reality, out of the cheesy romance mode. *Sigh* What a waste of a perfectly good cheesy romance type fantasy.

Are you really still here? Maybe you’re just curious to know what men’s body parts I was thinking of?

Hands, chests, arms (lower and upper) mainly. I’ve recently realized I prefer chests that aren’t too hairy. I always thought I had no preference and then some guy came into the store without a shirt and I got all turned on by his nice smooth chest. I took a mental picture to play around with later. No, later, not right now.

I love a deep, manly voice. I’m sure I’ve typed that in here at least once before. (It’s almost like ordering from a catalogue). Dark hair, maybe blonde if it’s not that silly fake looking blonde. Well, OK, I guess I’d even give a redhead a second glance or three. So, hair colour doesn’t seem all that important. Of course, it’s nice if he has some hair but I can get over that if I like the rest of him.

If I wasn’t so tired tonight I’d probably be getting more into this and back to the cheesy romance.

Well, I can always get back to that. I just have to post something here and go to bed. All by myself, just me and my magical little clit button.

The Hero/ Lover

Originally posted to Adult BackWash: Wednesday February 26, 2003  

Originally I had written something which ended up as an angry rant against men in general. I read it back over and I wondered, why am I so angry? Even to myself it seemed too angry over issues that have been around since cave men and dinosaurs. Some things will not change.

Anyway, the issue I was writing about was not worth the energy and passion I had put into my rant about it. So I took a break and went downstairs to make coffee. I concluded that I’m not really angry at men. I’m angry because there is a stereotypical ideal which is built up in most women and one that no man can really live up to. Yet, we are taught to expect to find this stereotypical hero/ lover. In short, the perfect man. No human man is likely to ever be so perfect as the hero/ lover we read about in steamy romance novels, see on soap operas, daydream about in magazines, and so on. It’s hard to let go of that illusion and the need for that perfect man in our lives.

Just imagine having that shining hero in chain mail and riding a white horse coming to your rescue, treating you like a lady (all the time) and making you feel so special and treasured, always knowing when you need to be taken care of and always being there to do it. Put the shoe on the other foot. Could you be that for someone else? Not likely, it’s too much self sacrifice, too much intuition and too much to ask of anyone.

But, that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve grown up looking for that man. I remember being in high school, reading those romance novels the other girls were reading. Always thinking how much better my life would be if I had a 30 year old man to love me, solve the problems, stick up for me, always be on my side and of course love me, cover me with affection while encouraging me to become the best me I could be. Don’t laugh, I bet there are high school girls and grown women too who still hold on to that ideal. I admit I’ve got a firm grip on at least a corner of it myself.

But, that’s fantasy. A pleasant, warm fuzzy fantasy that isn’t going to happen. But, having to give up that fantasy hero/ lover isn’t easy. It could make some women pretty angry at men. Myself, I’m going to work on forgiving them for not living up to all my expectations of perfection.

Mad Scientist in the Bedroom

Originally posted to Adult BackWash: Sunday March 28, 2004  

I’ve been going to use this title for ages and ages. But each time I start writing something erotic and fictional to go with it I end up pulling the plug somewhere along the way. It’s a good title but nothing I have written lives up to it.

You were hoping I would say “until now…” But I’m not. No, still nothing fictional to come along after this introductory ramble. But, I do think of Eric as the Mad Scientist in the Bedroom. At least my bedroom.

It is really comfortable to have someone you can try out ideas with. He doesn’t get shocked or look at me like I’m trashy or over sexed, etc. He likes my ideas. Of course, there is a down side to that. It is kind of fun being shocking. I liked to flash Todd knowing the street was right outside our big window. Now, how will I shock Eric? It will really take some extra devious thinking. I’m pretty sure I’m up to it. I won’t offer any previews cause that Brat reads this side of BackWash first.

Our first night together was maybe the best. Which is funny considering how uptight I was to begin with. We went out for dinner, like a real date (I haven’t done much of that) and then we came back to my place. Like a real different kind of date. Why is it that I always end up doing the very things other nice grrls don’t do? My life is so odd. Not like me at all.

Anyway, we came back to my place. We talked a bit, it was kind of awkward for me at least. Mostly I was thinking “OK, now what do we do!”. No TV cause there wasn’t any comfortable place to sit with him. No place to sit at all really but for the beds in the bedrooms upstairs. That is just one of the problems of having your house renovated when you meet some mad scientist and bring him home with you.

We ended up talking in the bedroom upstairs. Looking out the window into the backyard and looking past that to the road crossing my street. Talking about him and his family and whatever else came along. I don’t really remember. I was still in that “what do we do now” limbo. At some point I just decided that I wasn’t going to stay in limbo. I said something and left the bedroom, with it’s king sized bed and single pillow and single man. When I came back I was wearing the nightgown I had planned to wear for him that first night. It was long, silky and burgundy. Low cut in front. I shouldn’t admit that I originally bought that one for my honeymoon.

I can’t quite remember how things progressed from there. For me it was taking a mad leap, kind of daring and a turn on too. Eric was pleased. He said nice things about how soft I am. I liked the way he touched me. We stood together just holding each other. I wasn’t quite ready for the full light treatment so he plugged in the bedside light after hunting for the plugs (renovations/ new house).

We ended up in the bed, after lots of time standing together. I liked it all. I liked being nibbled on. I liked being held and told how pretty I am. I think I said nice things too, I really don’t remember now. The parts that stand out are the holding, the neck biting and later when I bawled and interrupted everything until I could shut off my water works. The eyeball kind, not the kitty kind. Now you’re curious… It wasn’t a big deal I just suddenly realized how empty things were before with the ex and how I never really was allowed to touch him. He used to like lying spoon fashion. When you lie that way he has access (if he wants it) but you can’t really move your arms back there to do any touching of your own. It’s an empty way to lie in bed with someone. Maybe at the end when you’ve touched all you want to.

Anyway, I’m still kind of the wallflower virgin. Yet to finish and completely have sex with anyone. Late to the party. It’s really funny when you think that I don’t have sex cause I might get pregnant. Yet, here I am, approaching 40, looking menopause in the gaping jaw and knowing I’d still like to have a child of my own. But, maybe when it’s all over and I’m taking hormones so I won’t grow too much facial hair I will finally get some, sex that is. Maybe by then I won’t even care any more. I don’t think my Mom is as interested as she used to be. That may squick some people but I’ve never been squicked by the thought of my parent’s having sex. Knowing them as I do I just find it amazing that they have 4 kids.

No one knows how life will fall out. Did you know there is a computer game called Fall Out? I played it once long ago. I remember it as being chased by zombie things that can only move painfully slow yet somehow manage to catch up with you when you least expect it. Life is like that too. Full of unexpected things. Some are not great, like zombies and some are exceptionally wonderful, like a mad scientist in your bedroom.