Source: VW rocks beetle • 1001 Gardens
I joined NovelTrove last night and posted a story for their contest with the theme, swinging. My story came in last of ten. Maybe due to being entered just as the contest was closing or maybe it just wasn’t sexy/ slutty enough. I liked it. I wrote it in an hour, including the time I pulled it together in my mind before typing anything. Usually I type as I think. This delayed start was better. I had to remember all my ideas and that helped as the story developed.
Click the link to see the story on the site and give it a vote if you liked it. If you didn’t like it, just don’t bother to vote. Seems simple enough to me.
I am sitting alone, still enjoying ripples of an orgasm, when my husband comes back. He has our car keys and doesn’t look very pleased.
“Maybe you’re right. All this swinging is for people not like us.” He passes me my coat. I’m surprised it was right where I had left it, folded neatly on the seat next to me.
Taking my hand, something he hadn’t done in a very long time, he led me to the back door and the parking lot. He opened my door first and waited for me to get inside the car before closing the door for me. It was nice.
On the way home he talked about the woman he had ended up with. She was older than she had looked, wore a lot of make-up and he didn’t really like her eagerness for the swinging scene. Three children later and my husband still likes to think he is the sexual guru in our relationship. My disinterest in sex hasn’t really bothered him, other than being an inconvenience at times.
“It’s funny, but you smell like sex.” He says.
“So do you.” I reply.
“I guess so, we were both there after all. Want to stop for a coffee? Make it a bit more of a night out?”
Drive through coffee because neither of us feels like getting out of the car yet. He feels out of sorts and me… I’m just feeling content and languid.
I take the coffee cup and notice the bit of paper I’ve had in my fist all this time. He notices too.
“What’s that?” He asks.
I open it and then push it into my purse. “Someone gave me their phone number.”
“And you’re going to keep it?” He says, startled, a little annoyed.
“Well, I don’t want to litter in the parking lot. I’ll find it the next time I clean out my purse and toss it out then.”
He seems satisfied with that, more or less. I say nothing more about it.
At home I leave him to pay the babysitter and check on the kids, lock up the house and all those other rituals. I strip off my dress in the bathroom. My panties are gone and I’m surprised he didn’t notice my boobs swinging around half in and half out of my open bra. But, I’m the good wife, he only looks at me that way once in awhile.
My clothes go into the laundry basket. I stand looking at my naked reflection in the bathroom mirror while waiting for the shower to get hot. Tonight I want a hot shower. I don’t want anything cold touching me, taking away the feeling of being touched by strong, knowing, and patient hands. My pussy is still leaking. It feels strange after all this time. But, I like it. I’m even a little proud, or maybe it’s defiance.
His idea to go to a swingers party, not mine. His idea to leave me sitting there, the good wife. I didn’t look for anything, other than a cocktail or two. I forget what they were called now.
Stepping into the shower, the steam rises around me and the hot water pours over me. I wash away the evidence while I relive the encounter.
A kiss at the back of my neck. Strong, big fingers stroking my back, making me feel like a purring cat. Something he whispered near my ear that I didn’t really understand. Hands on my hips, under my dress, my panties slipped down. I felt a tall, wide, male body pressed against my back. Then he gently pushed me to lean forward. His fingers just a little cold but quickly warming between the lips of my pussy. Playing with my clit, slow and then a little faster and then slowing right down again as I started the first wave of orgasm. Slowing, slower and so slow I thought the orgasm would stay at the pinnacle of just starting forever. Crashing, thudding and trembling inside of me, so strong I hadn’t even noticed he was gone and I was alone again.
Another orgasm in the shower. My husband coming down the hallway to our bedroom and our king sized bed, the best way to share a bed while not sharing anything.
I would especially like a tiny house and a tiny car. Otherwise known as a micro house and micro car. What other things have been trending as micro or tiny? Computers of course. But, I’m not a fan of smaller screens. I like to be able to see what I’m doing.
Join Gizmag as we give a big thumbs up to ten of the most attractive, innovative, and downright interesting tiny houses we’ve come across in the past 12 months.
The Vortex bladeless turbine uses the wind to vibrate instead of spin. That makes it cheaper, quieter, and more reliable than a bladed turbine.
My first question… Does it still create as much energy as the turbines with blades? (It doesn’t).
My next question… What about the birds? I can understand how birds and bats fly into them. The colour is meant to blend into the sky (for human sensibilities, not birds).
As far as noise, we parked right next to one here in Ontario. Turned off the car (the car made more sound than the turbine) and just listened for half an hour. It was very quiet. Out on a backroad, in the middle of nowhere, for awhile we felt apart from all civilization. That feeling of being still after the world has ended.
Without blades the new wind power could be very low maintenance and have far less parts to replace. That’s a good thing.
But, they do produce less energy. The solution offered in the article is to have more of them. Is this practical?
How many can be grouped together before they lose efficiency due to blocking the very wind they rely on? How many land owners are going to want a forest of these on their land? How long will it be before the same people who protested the noise of wind turbines find these have a persistent hum or vibration or some other problem which gives them headaches?
I’m not sure a lot of the complaining about wind turbines is really justified. At least the human complaining.
Bladeless turbines may be less deadly to birds and bats, but we can’t be sure of that.
What will happen with more turbines in the same area of land?
There are no perches for birds. We don’t want to encourage the birds to use them, yet a forest of wind turbines take up space without giving the birds a place to rest.
Of course, the bladeless turbines will also be a colour intended to blend in and not obstruct too much of the view, for humans. Birds may fly into these man made forests and not see what they flew smack into. To a bird a forest of nearly invisible tree stalks without perches or branches waving in the wind to show their location may not work out so well.
Could these ivory towers be made nature friendly at the risk of becoming less tolerated by humans who enjoy the energy produced by them? Could bird houses, bee hives and bat boxes be included? Could they be made mandatory? Would that be unsightly or just unnatural?
My boyfriend has recently told me he’s always wanted a femdom. I keen on doing this for him, but I’m not sure how to go about it. What kind of dirty talk do femdoms use, and would I get him to do anything I want him to do and not things he would want to do for me?
Fake, or not? This is one of those borderline comments. Even if it is comment spam, the question is at least relevant.
First, FemDoms may use a book of instructions but there is no guarantee we will follow them.
That’s the difference between being a FemDom (I prefer Domme) or a paid sex worker. Your rules – your way, mostly. Of course, you don’t set fire to him or anything extreme you may do in a fit of anger and regret later. You also take his wishes into account.
Dirty talk is a fetish. Do you like it? If so, try it out in reality and see if both of you like it. Maybe it sounded, or looked, good in pornography but doesn’t work out so well in actuality. I don’t really like dirty talk. I’d have more fun coming up with punishments for a dirty talker than being a dirty talker. But, I would not encourage dirty talk just for the sake of getting “punishment”.
When I think punishment, it is not in quotation marks. It’s real, it’s not all that pleasant or enjoyable. Punishment does not have to be something awful, painful or extreme. The best punishments are something he doesn’t like, would rather avoid but isn’t allergic to. This is where you need to know your boy, his likes and dislikes. What makes him squirm, twitch or need to be rushed to the hospital?
Secondly, what doesn’t he want to do for you?
Why doesn’t he want to do it? Does he have a good, valid and acceptable reason? Pour yourself a nice glass of wine (or coffee in my case as I don’t care for wine that much). Leave your boy to write out a list of reasons why he won’t do what you want him to do. Ask for at least 50 reasons, or however long it takes for you to enjoy that glass of wine without having to share any.
On the other hand, what do you want him to do?
Have a list of your own, prepare ahead.
- Learn how to give a manicure and pedicure and then pamper you once he has mastered the skills and bought the right colours of nail polish?
- Clean kitchen, garage, bathroom and muck out the inside of the oven until it sparkles to your satisfaction?
- Make dinner (from your menu choices), clean up and then become your chauffeur for a night out with the girls?
- Be your silent, unmoving, foot stool while you watch the TV shows he usually whines about having to watch with you?
- Polish and wax your car and perform minor repairs, oil changes, etc?
The list is as endless as you want it to be. If he doesn’t want to do something he needs to give good reasons for it. He isn’t running the show – that’s the point of Dom versus sub. Pleasing him isn’t going to work unless you (the Domme) are pleased as well.
So you need to know what pleases you. It may have nothing to do with sex, fetishes or being kinky. Or, cater his kinky desires to your own needs, wants and desires. If he wants to perform domestic service – give him an apron. If he wants to be humiliated – shine a spotlight on him and you don’t even need to say a word. If he wants to sniff your feet – give him your shoes and boots to clean and polish first (no spit shine!).
Do you want to see him squirm? Do you want to tease him? Then play with him but in your own way. What would be fun for you? Make it last. Torment him. Tease him and keep him guessing. Make sure it doesn’t get monotonous for you though. Toss in a few surprises along the way. Or just end things when you’ve had enough. Choose how things end for him and yourself. Do you want an orgasm? Should he be allowed to have a “happy ending”? You, the Domme, decides.
Reposted from an email:
Tax his land,
Tax his bed,
Tax the table
At which he’s fed.
Tax his work,
Tax his pay,
He works for peanuts
Tax his cow,
Tax his goat,
Tax his pants,
Tax his coat.
Tax his tobacco,
Tax his drink,
Tax him if he
Tries to think.
Tax his car,
Tax his gas,
Find other ways
To tax his ass.
Tax all he has
Then let him know
That you won’t be done
Till he has no dough.
When he screams and hollers;
Then tax him some more,
Tax him till
He’s good and sore.
Then tax his coffin,
Tax his grave,
Tax the sod in
Which he’s laid.
When he’s gone,
Do not relax,
Its time to apply
The inheritance tax.
Accounts Receivable Tax
Airline surcharge tax
Airline Fuel Tax
Airport Maintenance Tax
Building Permit Tax
Corporate Income Tax
Dog License Tax
Driving Permit Tax
Environmental Tax (Fee)
Federal Income Tax
Federal Unemployment (UI)
Fishing License Tax
Food License Tax
Gasoline Tax (too much per litre)
Gross Receipts Tax
Hunting License Tax
Marriage License Tax
Personal Income Tax
Prescription Drug Tax
Provincial Income and sales tax
Real Estate Tax
Recreational Vehicle Tax
Retail Sales Tax
Service Charge Tax
Telephone Federal Tax
Telephone Federal, Provincial and Local Surcharge Taxes
Telephone Minimum Usage Surcharge Tax
Vehicle License Registration Tax
Vehicle Sales Tax
Watercraft Registration Tax
Well Permit Tax
Workers Compensation Tax
THINK THIS IS FUNNY?
Not one of these taxes existed 60 years ago & our nation was one of the most prosperous in the world.
We had absolutely no national debt, had a large middle class, and Mom stayed home to raise the kids.
What in “Hell” happened? Can you spell ‘politicians?’
I hope this goes around CANADA at least 100 times.
YOU can help it get there.
GO AHEAD – – – be a CANADIAN !!!
When you go driving around in your car with your fetish wear, do you ever think about those cameras set up to catch people going through red lights?
They are always on. Whether you go through a red light or not – you are on candid camera. Think about that next time you are driving around. There are eyes watching you each time you cross through an intersection. Who knows what happens to that film…
I wonder if someone has hooked up a camera to their home computer just to catch naughty boys on film. What would they think to see you? Would they get turned on, or laugh or maybe just watch and not give away what they are thinking. Some of them might want to punish such a naughty boy.
Just something to think about… besides I’ll be smirking at the idea of you driving along and thinking twice at each traffic light. If I were in the car with you I’d just quietly say “red light” and you would know exactly why I was smiling.
I just posted this to a man I’ve begun talking to on Fetlife. I should have been posting all my little ideas from the start. Some of them are pretty clever and I enjoy them all.
Originally posted: November 17, 2006
He was on the train again. The guy with a shaved head, charcoal grey suit this time and a red silky looking scarf. No hat, he never wore a hat no matter how much it snowed or rained. I always watched him, shy, from my seat. Sometimes he noticed me, sometimes he didn’t.
I hadn’t seen him this past week. One whole week of commuting without seeing him. I had nearly cried on Friday night, thinking he must have moved or changed jobs and I would never have the chance to meet him now. I regretted not doing something, even something really dumb.
But, there he was back again. Same shaved head, same suit and that same smiley face. He was just one of those people who seemed to smile easily. Sometimes he had conversations with the people around his seat. He laughed easily too and it was a laugh that made me smile, even on the hardest days when I felt worn down to a stub of myself.
I had to meet him tonight, finally. I couldn’t let another day pass by. Maybe he had moved and today was one last trip on the old commuter train. My palms were slick and my stomach in knots but I just had to do something this time.
I knew I looked ok, not one of my better days for looks but it wasn’t too bad. Hopefully I didn’t get too wind blown while I was waiting at my stop for the train. I couldn’t quite dare reach up to pat my hair, he might look over at just that moment. Continue reading The Train Not Taken
Originally posted to Sex Kitten (2003 – 2004)
Do you handle your stress or does it handle you? I’ve found a way to do both, to my satisfaction.
Stress should be spelt with a few zeds, it’s just that kind of word. Trendy geek types have been adding zeds to words like crackz, hackerz and warez. But, they missed strezz.
How do you handle strezz? Do you throw things, yell at people or take it out on other people in more random ways? My Dad handled strezz by abusing his family. I have tried not to be that way. Maybe I’ve tried too hard. I’m not aggressive enough. I don’t really go after things as hard as I could cause I don’t want to be pushy or step on toes.
How do I handle strezz? Sometimes I hit inanimate objects. When the trunk of my car slammed into my head the other day I retaliated by slamming my hand into it. Then I chose my next strezz handling option, crying. I cried all the way into the house. Then I started my next strezz handlation, denial. The next day I was over it but for a very sore head and bruises on my wrist. Denial works, sort of, it keeps everything from swallowing me up. If I really thought about everything I think I would just sink into some dark abyss and never been seen again.
My best strezz handlation (sure that’s a word!) is orgasm. In bed at night, if I’m not so tired I fall asleep before I have an orgasm, that’s where I beat strezz. None of the other options really work but strezz orgasms aren’t always available. You can’t have a strezz orgasm at work. I guess you could go into the public washroom but some part of my mind wonders about security cameras and those jerks who set up spy cameras to later sell upskirt and other (not illegal apparently) pictures on the Internet.
In the end the best time to relieve strezz for me is late at night. After I’ve dealt with email, family and work in general. It’s quiet, dark, the bed is comfortable and I’m by myself. It’s nice to be alone in the dark. No one making demands or expecting anything from me. Just me, my clit and my fingers. I don’t need anything else but now and then I add a toy, filler literally. I don’t know why it is that every now and then I just want something inside me. It doesn’t give me a better orgasm or make me orgasm any sooner. It’s just a needful thing, the odd time. Usually, I just stroke my clit. I know exactly how to do it, I have plenty of practice.
I started when I was a kid, not even a teenager. Back then I didn’t know why I did it and I stopped long before having an orgasm. It was years before I let that happen, I had no idea what it was or if I wanted it to happen. Curiousity led me to it. During one of my fantasies I just kept going past the point I usually stopped at. Those orgasms weren’t nearly as good as the ones I have now. They were ok.
These days my orgasms are long and drawn out. I think I could make it last forever, or until my fingers got too tired. I’ve found if I rub my clit very slowly right after the first barely there rush of the orgasm the thing just goes on forever, not finishing, just hanging in there till I remove my fingers. It’s good. Then, strezz released along with other things, I go to sleep. Nights when I can’t sleep I have an orgasm too. If I curl up and get comfortable right after it always works. As an added plus, on really cold nights an orgasm warms the bed up too.