sorry for the absence from blogville, but i'm a per-diem employed housewife, and my work schedule has gotten the best of me.
so enjoy today's HNT with my bodacious tata's under a wet shirt and come back in the next few days for updates and the 1st intallments of the sex column.
The other night, at about 4 am, I heard a strange sound. It sounded like... a squirrel getting electrocuted in the powerlines (Tchhhk-tchhkkkk-tccchhhkkkkk-tcchhkk-tchkk-) simultaneously with a faintly electronic beep- powering up (wooOOP!) and powering down (WOOoop!) at half second intervals. But it sounded like music; it sounded like singing.
I heard it come up my street. It woke me out of a deep sleep. Being the curious cat I am, I got out of bed and peered first out of one window, then the other. I saw nothing. Then a voice in my head said (very loudly and unmistakably) Get Back Into Your Bed. Right Now.
I got back into my bed and listened as the sound marched back and forth in front of my house. I held my breath and listened intently, eyes wide, holding perfectly still, with the covers pulled up to my chin. Then the central heat turned on and muffled the details. As the heat turned off, I heard the sound moving away down the street.
I lay there in my bed, terrified and excited, and wondered if I would ever be able to sleep. Just as I was drifting off, I heard the sound approach again. I pressed the record button on my phone, trying to catch something, and then the stupid heat turned back on.
I listened to the recording yesterday, and I can't hear anything. But I know something was out there.
What do you think? Of course, my dirty mind naturally leaps to the idea of how cool it would be to fuck someone from elsewhere in the cosmos.
I'm lucky that I haven't seen many movies about aliens, because I'd probably have a much different take on the whole thing. I'm aware that in Hollywood, alien sex invariably results in alien pregnancy, which invariably results in the body of the host mother splitting wide open in the birthing process. That sounds terrible. But for me, sex is creative, not procreative, so maybe my non-human lover and I could agree to use some safer sex precautions.
I had never even considered alien fucking until two summers ago. My gay boyfriend Clay turned me on to the idea. He is a fantasy maker extraordinaire.
It all started out with an absurdly large, veiny, vibrating dildo in the traditional pasty caucasian shade. I received the dildo as a gift from one of those guys who get off on seeing a woman impale herself on too-large objects. I didn't even take it out of the packaging for the longest time, because it icked me out. I had never had anything that large stuffed in my cunt. I'm kind of a dildo snob-- I prefer silicone, and I never, ever, buy flesh toned toys. But it came to me as a gift, and I'm the kind of girl who could find an eventual use for a frighteningly large dildo, even if just for re-gifting.
My inevitable moment of weakness arrived late one night. The dildo had a suction cup on the base, so I spent a good part of the night humping the rim of my bathtub-- the place where I decided to stick it so I could straddle the monster hands-free. I was pleased and surprised to find that it fit in my pussy quite tightly, (eventually, with a lot of patience and a ton of lube) stretching me to the point where I felt absolutely full. Yes, I was pleased to admit that I had been wrong-- my pussy was, indeed, not too small to accomodate the monstrous cock. I really, really liked it.
But though I liked to fuck it, I still couldn't stand to look at it. When I had fucked myself until I couldn't take any more, I washed it off and threw it into my toybox. Out of sight, out of mind. But I didn't throw it into the sex toybox, I threw it into the toy toybox, where my action figures, juggling balls, windup animals and all sorts of other fun objects live. The big ugly dildo remained there, forgotten, after our one sordid night of fucklust.
Fast forward a few months to one particularly debauched weekend at my house. Clay and I were talking sex, and I was showing off all my toys. I gave him the grand tour of my sextoybox, and then I remembered the big ugly dildo lurking in the other box. I was a little shy about pulling it out. A little ashamed, maybe, because it is just so unlike anything I would ever buy or find appealing. (And I'm not sure I wanted to admit that I could accomodate its girth!) But as is the case with human cocks, you can't always judge the potential for fun by the prettiness of the package. I let that thought soothe me as I prepared to bare my soul by showing him the cock I was simultaneously turned off and so very on by.
"Come on Freya, it can't be that bad," he coaxed, "pull that big thing out for me. I want to see it."
"It's really ugly," I warned him, "and kind of scary."
"Ain't nothin' that can scare me, girl. I've seen it all. And I mean, I've seen it all!"
I opened the lid of my toybox. I could feel my cheeks flush, and my pulse quicken. Even though I believed it when Clay said he was unshockable, I still felt pretty vulnerable. I took a deep breath, reached in, and pulled the ugly dildo out.
It was covered in blue spots! I did a double take, peered into the box, and immediately discovered the reason why. A spiky blue massage ball in the box had transferred its color onto my dildo. The mystery material that is known as cyberskin is apparently quite absorbent, and the spiky ball had injected blue splooge into every place where the two made contact.
"It looks leprotic!" I moaned.
Clay fell down laughing.
"It was bad enough before-- but now I'll never be able to fuck it again!"
Clay just kept giggling.
"It looks diseased!" I wrinkled my nose at the dildo. "I guess I'll have to throw it away." I got up to heave it in the trash.
He reached out to touch my arm. "Don't throw it away," he said, looking at me intently, "Just make it work for you."
"Make it work for me? How?"
"Well, since your dildo has blue spots on it, you could fantasize that you're being fucked by an alien."
I turned the idea over in my head for a moment. And I definitely liked it.
So I kept the big scary dildo. I didn't actually use it many times after that, though on a few occasions my cunt was insatiable and that big ugly thing totally hit the spot.
I had never thought of myself as being very adept at fantasizing before that day, but his encouragement of my sexually imaginative side flipped a switch in me. I'm glad for that, because now when I hear an unusual sound outside my window, I get to feel scared and turned on. It's so much more fun.
how many times have you said, often only to yourself, "i should bottle that up and sell it. I'll be rich!" ???
well, someone went and got creative, and bottled the essence of the sweet, sweet poontang.
courtesy of Viva Eros, and the folks over at RiechMichund comes 'vulva original' or for you less bourgeois folks, 'puss in a bottle' or as i'm starting to call it, 'cunt cologne'.
skip on over and look at all the glossy marketing, complete with gravity defying breasts, lots of oiled skin and a mini gallery of nudity in public. (love those forward-thinking european contries!)
i'm just left with a couple lingering questions...
- is it, fresh from the shower poon flavor you are slathering on? or is it day-old girl juice stink?
- do you have to reapply often? or will a single spritz of the spunk last all day & night?
i think this has -fabulous- possibilites! can you imagine, a door-to-door snatch scent salesgirl? nationwide, people -wanting- to be accosted in department stores by a pussy perfume girl? it's never too early to plan on get that perfect christmas gift.
i'm thinking, the eau de eros is a gift that will keep on giving...
Inspired by Fetish Memetics: Here's my personal experience with figging!
Some background info:
Figging is a form of BDSM pain play in which a piece of raw, peeled ginger is inserted into a person's ass. It creates an intense burning sensation.
And I am willing to try most things at least once.
So, being the sexual scientist I am, I had to experiment. It should be noted that figging used to be on my list of hard limits, but it is no longer. (I couldn't understand why anyone would want to experience such a thing but insatiable curiosity got the best of me.)
I trip-trapped down to the market, and bought two nice-sized pieces of ginger for $.24. (Hey, it's economical!) I spent some time peeling a piece into just the right shape and size, and threaded a string through the ginger so it wouldn't get lost in there and cause me eternal torment.
I got my play area set up, with toys and pillows all around, and took a deep breath because I was truly afraid. I didn't know what to expect except for intense ass burning, and who the hell wants that?
I approached the insertion somewhat hesitantly-- I touched the ginger to the outside of my ass and it was a bit warm and sting-y but not so bad. I waited a few moments and slid it partway in. Holy fuck, it burned. I wanted to stop right then, but instead I pushed it all the way in. I closed my eyes, felt tears squeeze out, leaned back and settled in for the ride.
It's somewhat difficult to accurately describe the series of escalating sensations I experienced. I entered a highly endorphined state after the first couple of minutes, and that state evolved consistently throughout the experiment.
My entire body from the waist down felt like it was simultaneously on fire and vibrating. I could feel my heart beating in my ass and pussy. My pussy lubricated copiously and constantly in response to the sensation, and my clit became highly sensitive. I played with my clit a little, but couldn't make myself come because the other sensation was too intense. There were more than a few times when it was so intense I thought I couldn't take it anymore, but I pushed through it with deep breathing and was rewarded with another endorphin rush.
And then, suddenly, I decided I was done. I pulled the ginger out, and almost immediately, the burning ceased. I was relieved, and super happy to know that there was no persistent pain. Then I made myself come, and considered it a full day's research.
So a friend of mine (Le Sexpot) was telling me about a practice called figging (oh, the burning!), whom she’d heard about from another friend (the Obstinate Lover), and this of course made me do research (look on the internet) and wonder more broadly about fetish memetics. Meme (rhymes with gene) refers to a unit of cultural information or idea. The study of how they spread is called memetics. Much like the gene, the meme is a self-propagating unit and can undergo cultural evolution and mutation. Christianity is a meme, blogging is a meme, an Elton John song is a meme, smoking is a really bad habit (but yeah, it’s a meme too).
So what does this have to do with sticking ginger root in Le
Sexpot’s too succulent big ass? I’ll get to that. But first, let me explain my part in
spreading a fetish of my own. I’m not a
dom in any structured sense, but like most men I have dominant tendencies in the
bedroom. As part of
my sexual repertoire
I’ve incorporated the fears of my lovers as an enticement. I’ve known since I was a young cat that women
are embarrassed by someone smelling their scent, especially their armpits. This led to a pre-coital ritual in which I
hold my lover’s arms above her head and against her will pretend to lick her armpits. Most women shriek and howl. Some have
tried to tough it out and bite their lips, wrapping themselves around me while
the heat of my breath grazes the tender skin and stubble until they can take no
more. It’s a lot of fun. Nipples harden, pelvises lock, and all of the
sexual senses are engaged. Mind you, I don’t have to lick the pits, just come
tantalizingly close, grazing them with each lunge.
But then there was the case of the Obstinate Lover. After several near-passes and the typical resistance she said, “Go for it,” and lay back in surrender. As I got closer to her armpit I felt none of the struggle I’d felt before; her arms went rubber and I was face to face with actually licking and tasting her. It wasn’t bad, funky sweet. I went in again. Side to side. Kisses. She moaned. She liked it. I really liked it. She was tickled but this was new territory and the Obstinate Lover was / is all about new territory. This is the part where I should get really scientific and tell you that it was all about human olfaction, its function and impact on psychology and behavior. But no, this was sex stripped to its core, five senses engaged. It was a moment of sexual flush that we’ll never forget. The Obstinate Lover had successfully taken on my meme.
Flash forward a couple of years. I keep in touch with the Obstinate Love
r and
she sends me a note saying that she’s been the giver and receiver of armpit
love and highly recommends it to everyone. Her adaptation of my fetish meme had mutated. What I’d once used as a form of fun torture (“it’s
armpit torture time, bitch!”), was now a loving gesture of intimacy. Who knows what form her armpit love will take
in future adherents. Which brings me
back to figging. Figging, I’m told by the
mostly true Encyclopedia Dramatica , is the sexual act of inserting ginger into
the anus while being caned. It
supposedly started out as an equine event, the burning sensation keeping the
tail of the horse held high. Someone during
the Victorian era thought this might be a good punishment for children and the
British, buggers that they are, brought it into the bedroom. At some point the Obstinate Lover got ahold of
this idea mutated it into a loving gesture (she's just like that), told Le Sexpot about it and voila,
I’m sizing up ginger root at Whole Foods.
Trading fetish memes, Darwin would be proud.
"I think girls' nipples should match their personalities."
I just flew to Mexico City on almost no notice to do a casting. I was in and out in two days. It might seem like a long way to go to take pictures of naked girls, but it paid off in spades. I like doing that anyway—taking off and looking for models instead of having a bunch of go-sees come by my place while I get fat on the couch. Most photographers just take whatever girl the agencies send around. That’s why you see the same five girls in everyone else’s photos.-- Richard Kern on Viceland.
5. Andrew Blake: One of the biggest
disappointments a man can have is when his sweetheart says
she wants to watch
porn with him and he gets to spend an hour watching the soft and dreamy dreck
of Andrew Blake. Sure the production is top-rate but blonde wigs, silicone
tits, a Yanni-esque soundtrack, and over-manicured pussy do not make for a
titillating porn experience in my world.
4. Men wearing disguises / Butt pimples: Which
is worse, porn stars who look like they’re robbing a bank with a hard-on or
video directors too cheap to buy body makeup to cover ass acne? Total toss up
here.
3. Goes gay without warning: I once rented a
video that promised to be an “orgy for the eyes.” On the box it promised
gangbangs, BBW, mature, lesbian action, and anal. Cool, right? Not when one of
the dudes in the gangbang scene penetrated the other without so much as a
handshake or hug. Judging by the ease with which they accomplished the act, I'd say they'd done it before.
2. Shemales: I admit it. I actually own shemale
porn. Please, let me explain. Once upon a time
when I was a young lad there was
a Hispanic goddess with unimaginable hold over my erotic imagination. Her name
was Vanessa Del Rio. She had hips, tits, and lips like no other woman in the
mainstream genre. She did her job with the enthusiasm that I thought all women
had for sex. And then came my viewing of “Viva Vanessa,” a straightforward but
fictional tale of her rise to the top of the porn game. After several really well
produced scenes of Vanessa’s erotic powers we get the blonde and lithe
Angelique Richard as a sex partner. It starts out as a lesbian seduction, but
when Vanessa explains she doesn’t swing that way (yeah, right) Angelique whips
out what might qualify as either a penis fit for a Lilliputian or an enormous
clit with a ball sac. Groady and unexpected in the extreme.
1. Ron Jeremy: Quite possibly the least
attractive man in the game and we’re supposed to pretend
he’s a rock
star. I know I know, Ron is supposed to represent the common man.
But does the common man look like a sleezy Mario Brother? Look at
those jaded eyes, that slack jaw, his rarely working cock, and that
mountain of furry burrito he calls a belly and you’ll know why “The Hedgehog”
is my number one reason for turning off porn.
And to think he slept with Vanessa Del Rio...
She and I started our evening with girlie drinks (blood orange and grey goose cocktails, yum!) at a neighborhood bar. We leaned across the table into each other as we sipped and talked about everything sexual. We discussed our respective boys, our past loves and lusts, and our sexual desires that remain to be fulfilled. She's got enormous, long-lashed blue eyes, and a direct confident stare.
I went to the bathroom after my first drink was finished, and when I returned, she asked, "So, what is it about you that I find so attractive?" Oh yeah. What a marvelous question. "I'm not sure about the reasons, but it's definitely mutual," I replied. I blushed, I'm sure, and smiled as I told her my theories. We both love to talk about sex. I'm safe, because I'm in a sane open relationship. I'm non-judgemental. My attraction to her is definite, and so so apparent.
We went back to my apartment, and sat on my bed talking for hours. I'm great at getting girls onto my bed, but notoriously chicken about making the first move. We talked about sex to the point that I was squirming. I gave her a tour of my sex-toy drawer. It was obvious to me that we both wanted to do something but I just couldn't...
By 5 am, we were naked in the dark, tucked under the covers in my big, soft, bed; still chaste, but so hot. The phone rang, and it was my boyfriend, calling me after his date, wanting to know about mine. I asked him all the questions I usually ask him after a playdate: Did you have fun? Did you fuck her? Did she suck your cock? Is she prettier than I am? And I answered his questions: Yes, it's been a fun night. No, we haven't kissed yet. Yes, she's completely adorable and I really, really want to.
I felt her hand slide across my belly and up onto my breast. Her fingertips grazed my nipple and pulled. I arched up into her, smiled, and sighed with relief and pent up lust. "Nothing's happened so far, but she just tweaked my nipple, so I'm taking that as a very good sign," I told him. He and I talked for about 5 more minutes, with her hands roaming freely over my body. I guess she didn't really know if it was okay for us to play until she heard exactly how okay it was with my lover, or maybe she just thought it was hot to distract me as I was talking. At any rate, she made the impossible first move and I was so happy that she did. I told him I loved him, hung up the phone, and we practically leaped on each other.
We kissed, touched, and squirmed, with our legs intertwined and hands everywhere. Neither of us vied for dominance; it was a sweet, exploratory makeout. She reached for my pussy and touched me tenatively, gently, and intuitively. I gasped to feel how wet I was. I knew that I would be, but that initial moment of discovery-- the moment of finding just how swollen, slick and sensitive my cunt was, literally took my breath away.
I kneeled over her, stroking her tits. Each was a perfect handful of impossibly firm 21 year old girlflesh, with the tiniest, pale pink nipples I've ever seen. I licked up her belly from pubic bone to sternum, one delicious breast in each hand, and then had to make a very important decision. Left or right? I don't know which I chose, but I went back and forth between them until I was dizzy, smooshing my face into her chest and inhaling her scent as I played with her perfect tits.
"Do you want to take a shower?" she asked.
We went into the bathroom and I got to see her entire naked body in the light for the first time. Her 
skin was sleek and smooth and pale, and shined under the shower light. We washed each other's backs, and pressed our soap slicked bellies and breasts against each other as we kissed. She reached one hand down in front of me, and one hand behind, and played with my clit and pussy opening at the same time. I swayed and staggered under her touch. She leaned me up against the shower wall and I kissed her neck and shoulders as she teased me with her fingertips. I seriously felt drunk, but our drinks had long since burned off.
We turned off the shower, and dried each other with big, fluffy white towels. I lit some candles in my bedroom, and we climbed into bed, damp and giddy. We touched and played with each other's pussies, intuitively mirroring each other's movements. We didn't say much, beyond the occasional oh, that's good! and yes, right there. We were slightly awkward as we navigated each other's bodies-- real life is not like porn-- it's a challenge to find a position for mutual touching that's comfortable, effective, and gives you a good view. We ended up sitting, facing each other with our legs spread, one leg over and one leg under each other's.
I slid my lubed thumb into her pussy and she leaned back on the pillows, eyes closed and smiling. I stroked her G-spot as I closed my four fingers down over her pubic bone and pressed my palm into her clit. She moved against me ever-so-slightly, but seemed perfectly happy for me to determine the
narrative of the fuck. I played with her that way until my arm got tired, then switched to my other hand, beckoning her to come here with my middle fingers on her G. I stroked her inner lips and clit with my free hand, squeezing and rolling her clit between my fingers, jacking it like a tiny dick.
I sensed that she was on the edge, but I suspected that my new-to-her touch was keeping her on that edge, instead of pushing her over. "Show me how you like to touch it," I whispered to her, as I intensified my upward thrust. She smiled, and used both hands to pull her outer labia apart and back as she grazed over her clit with thumbs and forefingers as we moved into each other. She didn't come audibly, but her body bucked as her pelvis ground into my hand more and more insistently, and then her body tensed, relaxed, and slowed to a full stop. She smiled at me, pulled my fingers from her pussy and placed my hand on my pussy.
I washed my hands (safety first!) and returned to the bed, with my G-force dildo and a pump bottle of lube. I fucked myself for her, legs spread wide and thrown back so she could see every single detail. She watched, delighted. Her eyes grew huge as my fucking became more aggressive, and she reached down to grab my ass cheeks in her hands, spreading me wide. I fucked myself until my arm felt like jelly, but I hadn't quite gotten to the place where I could come yet. "Will you fuck me with this, please?"
She was not shy about fucking me, and she did not hesitate to fuck me hard. I came, gasping and shuddering as she moved the dildo in and out of my cunt. We collapsed into a heap, and fell asleep almost immediately.
I so needed that.
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