I have blisters.

I made calamari for Peyton last night and the oil popped and sizzled on my wrist as I held the pan.  It hurt that hot-oil-hurt, long, low and seething, but I didn’t miss a beat.  Shit had to be done.

I fed the kids (mine and the neighbor girl) and was in bed by 10.  The week had been long and full.  I also hadn’t heard from Rex.

After our misbegotten pot roast date things slowed to a whimper.  We texted Sunday when he got back into town and a little bit each morning throughout the week, but by Friday that disappeared and I almost hadn’t noticed.

Today, Saturday, I woke up naturally to a soft blue light and a purring cat.  Sometime in the late afternoon a blister popped.  It was some hours after that I relalized I’d heard nothing from Rex since Thursday morning.

Such a shame I had to get burned at all, but so be it.  

Febraury Photofest

No more dreams.

No more dreams, no rest.

It’s bright inside, so no relief only clear sight.

Fear is a flavor, an experience, not something to swallow.

Love is a leap, not a lap.  So is bravery.

A girl learns to hide, a woman learns to be.

Rex offered his two cents for today.  This was his choice.


Febraury Photofest

I know we need the shadow.

We need the shadow to see the light, to see where we begin and end.  One defines the other and are therefore bonded brothers.  Foes, but friends, too.  Necessary compliments.  Bitter medicine.  

But I had no idea so many lived in the darkest of shadows.  

It’s not so much a disappointment as it is utter devastation.  Shame.

I am so ashamed.

Will people look at me and think I hate them because of the color of their skin?  Because of where they were born?  Their accents?  That I don’t think they’re as American as me??

I will cast my light into the darkness and do my part.  I will rally.  I will fight.  I will love.  I will accept.  I will fucking smile.

But I am afraid nonetheless.  

My rights to my body are on the line, my ethics as a globally conscious human dismissed, my safety as an inhabiter of Earth at risk, my care about the planet mocked.

This is a very long, very dark shadow indeed.

I take comfort in knowing that shadow cannot exist without light, that there are millions upon millions of people who are struggling to come to terms with this new reality and who are with me, shoulder to shoulder.  No, we aren’t dreaming, unfortunately.  This is real.  

But so is the light.  

I didn’t expect to share this, but it inspired the words, so…

Spreading the love (even if super late).

Every year for the past several years Rori (and her beau, Cash), would lovingly pour over hundreds of blogs submitted to her each year for her Top 100 Sex Blogs list.  Last year, she abruptly had to leave the blogging world and also her 2015 list.

Cue Molly, of Molly’s Daily Kiss, and her trusty side-kick, DomSigns, to pick up the reins and steer us clear of the cliff of nothingness.

Well, she’s at it again this year and there are only 3 days left (depending on where in the world you are).

All my favorites have already been nominated, but if you have any that aren’t on the list be sure to add yours before November 1st when nominations close!

This is the list that brings us all together, expands our horizons, and really showcases how powerful sex writing — of all kinds — can really be.

Click here to make your nominations now for Top Sex Blogs of 2016!



A different view.

Secret buttons.


Click the lips for more!

Sinful Sunday

Friday, November 27th, is Boobday!


It’s Thanksgiving week and I’d like to tell you all again how very thankful I am for each of you.  For the women who participate in Boobday, for the readers, friends, and lurkers.  I do all of this because I think body positivity, a healthy self-esteem, and the right to express it any way we choose are important.  It’s turned my life around and I’m proud to steward it for everyone else.

It’s been a great week; I feel blessed and focused and ready to take on the world.  I wish you all the same!



Full Boobday Guidelines here.

One of two ways to participate: 1) either be one of the first 3-4 people to submit a pic OR (OR, not AND) 2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.  And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts!  This is all about spreading the love!

My tits:

Hy loves the 49ers
I just love the Niners.

NOT my tits:

KIM 112715
Kim gets nice and sticky!

ooops, I messed……whose got a sweet tooth?!?


SANDY 112715
Sandy’s curves go for dayzzzzz.

Post workout boobs.


Anonymous Aussie and her beautiful tits and locks.

The thought of you sprinting up the stairs, blonde mane swishing, this one’s for all the blonde manes out there. xxx

Be sure to check out all the other gorgeous ladies this week by clicking below and leave lots of comment love!

Friday, September 4th, is Boobday!


Yesterday was my birthday, the Big 4-0.  It was quiet, spent with family.  It’s been a rough 39 losing The Neighbor which has made other things tougher to handle along the way.

I hear 40 is amazing and every year after.  I’m certainly smiling in that direction, sun on my face.

Love you guys and thank you again ever so much for coming along this journey with me.



Boobday Guidelines here.  One of two ways to participate: 1) either be one of the first 3-4 people to submit a pic OR (OR, not AND) 2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.  And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts!  This is all about spreading the love!

My tits:


My pajamas are those of a paupers, but I think they're sexier than lingerie.
My pajamas are those of a paupers, but I think they’re sexier than lingerie.

I took this after The Neighbor left and thought, “I used to send him these pics…”

NOT my tits:

KIM 090415
I love Kim’s enthuisasm for spring. And her lovely boobies.

Dear friends in the northern hemisphere : Spring has sprung in Africa!! Hope you enjoyed the sunshine for the last few months…….coz we are taking it back baby!!

SANDY 090415
Sandy’s giant jugs are kept on a leash. Mmm. Makes me want to do terrible things to them.

Who doesn’t like boobs in chains?


Check out all the other gorgeous ladies via the links below! Be sure to leave comments!

Boobday will be slightly delayed, y’all.

I’m still out celebrating the end of my softball season.  

Gimme a couple of hours and I’ll have it up and running. 


I had sex with a fat guy.

The Bad Texter, for lack of a better word, is fat.  I’m not using that word in a derogatory way as it’s come to be held in casual speak, it’s simply a fact.  If you carry a certain amount of extra weight on your body in the form of fat — well, you’re fat.

He’s also sexy, confident, smart, tall as fuck, and hilarious among other identifiers.

I’ve been worried since I met him how the mechanics of sex would work with someone of his size.  I even Googled “How to fuck a fat guy” with some interesting results.

There were some How To’s (missionary might not be best if he can’t support his own weight) and some personal accounts of lovin’ the extra cushioned pushin’.  Mostly what I learned was to not pretend he wasn’t fat and to work around any physical limitations as I might anything else that could limit a partner.  I wouldn’t expect to ride a guy if he had a sunburn on his back, after all.  Likewise, I wouldn’t expect a fat guy to get all acrobatic with me like a fit fireman could.

He arrived a few minutes late carrying a nearly empty box of Bud Light and his cap on backwards.  We hugged awkwardly in the entryway and I invited him into the kitchen where I was prepping our lunch.  We made small talk for a minute before he came around behind me and began to touch me.

His big belly pressed into my back as I leaned into him.

“Is it ok if I touch you?” he asked huskily.

I nodded and turned around to face him just as he bent to capture my mouth.  His soft lips plied mine apart and his beard tickled.  He massaged my breasts and moaned and I put my arms around his expansive waist and pulled his softness into me.

I held his face in my hands and wondered at the padding that was present even on his neck.

“I want to be inside of you,” he whispered against my mouth.  “Where can we go to do this?”

I laughed and told him there was a secret room in the back and led him to my bedroom.

He deftly untied my bikini top and pushed my dress and bottoms to the floor and set me back gently on the bed.  I spread my knees and he knelt between them and his ginger head dipped below my line of sight.

His mouth, hot, wet, and soft licked me and played a sweet tune.  He’s the first man in years that has spent every chance he can get between my thighs this way.  The Neighbor actively avoided it — it intimidated him — and my other more recent lovers have been much too busy throwing me around the room and fucking me senseless.

Cunnilingus has its place on the menu, but for my lovers it’s never been a main course.  For BT, it’s his forté.

I laid there and thought about it, thought about how different this man has been for me already and I pressed my thighs against his face in pleasure and felt him groan against me.

He stood up and made a move to stick his uncut cock in me.

“Do you have a condom?” I asked.  He shook his head.

“I can pull out if you want,” he said.

“Oh, no.  I’m not afraid of pregnancy.  Safety first.  There’s a box under my bed.  I might have some.”  I prayed I had some regular condoms in there.  The last I knew The Neighbor had left a bunch of Magnums behind two years ago.

He bent over and pulled the box out and there, shining like Willy Wonka’s Golden Tickets, was the strip of Magnums.  He chuckled, I groaned and shuffled giant dildos, butt plugs, lube, and silk ties around until I found a regular condom. “Don’t judge me,” I said handing it to him referring to my cardboard box of debauchery.

“No, never,” he replied with a smile.

I could see his erection flagging under the condom application.  “I have a hard time staying hard in condoms,” he explained.

“Who doesn’t?” was my reply.  There was no way he was sticking it in me without protection.

As he worked it on I took a closer look at his hulk, his ginger-colored body hair masked a vast network of freckles, his thighs were thick trunks of bone and muscle, and his belly creased over in a soft, swell of white skin.  I liked how he stood tall in the daylight and blocked out the sun.

He dove back down between my thighs and worked his cock with his free hand for a few seconds before standing up and climbing on top of me.  His belly pressed on mine as he pushed in, slow and deep; I couldn’t lock my ankles around him, but his warm bulk thrilled me as I helped to pull him in closer with my heels.

I opened my eyes to see him staring at me intently.  Our gazes locked and he pulled out and flipped me around.  I backed up to the edge of the bed and he thrust back inside.  His big hands were gentle on my hips; he whispered how good my fucking pussy felt.  “Hy, Hy, your pussy feels so fucking good.”

I gripped the covers and pressed back into him wishing he’d hit me or grip the skin beneath his hands in a meaty fist, but he seemed unsure if that would be ok and the last time I begged him to suck harder on my nipples he shied away from going the distance to cause me a little pain.

I moaned about his fucking cock and relished the feel of the slide and my pulse quickened when he told me he was about to cum.

“Please cum,” I said as my nipples scraped against the bedding and I rocked back on him as hard as I could.

He came in rolling waves and I felt him quiver and tremble behind me.  I rolled to my back and he stood towering above me breathing heavily.  “I’m a little out of shape,” he said to no one.

I laughed and answered, “It’s all cardio, man.”  He laughed at that, too, and went to toss the condom.  When he returned I patted the empty space next to me and turned on my Hitachi.

“Grab my breasts, please,” I told him.  He squeezed them in great handfuls and pinched the dark pink nipples hard enough I could feel it.  I quickly roared up to an orgasm and fell limp in his arms.

We laid like that for several minutes not talking, just panting and feeling one another’s skin.

We got up, got dressed, and continued working on lunch prep.  Down at the pool we chatted easily then slipped into the water.  I hovered over him on the steps and we kissed a little.  It felt natural — strangely natural — and I thought “Of course I have this normal, lovely dating scenario with a guy whose sexual proclivities might not match mine.”  Why does everything have to be a compromise?  Why can’t this guy be a maniac in bed and all these other wonderful things?

I haven’t written him off, but I am leery of a future between us.  There are obstacles I can’t share without giving away our identities, but suffice to say they exist.  I’m also not sure he could ever get on the same page as me sexually speaking and it has nothing to do with his size.  Also: bad texter.

He’s out of town this coming weekend and I’d love to see him again, so I’ve offered to make him dinner since I have Peyton this week.  It seemed like a great idea at the time, but when I woke up stone sober without his charismatic smile or my Vino Verde fogging up my brain I’m not so sure anymore.  We’ll see.

I’d like another go at this guy.  That much I know is certain.  I feel compelled to kick the door open for him in some way.  I almost begged him to touch my asshole as he softly held onto my hips and ground into me, but I didn’t want to scare him away.  Maybe next time I can make it clear that he may do nearly whatever he likes to me.  I thought for sure cumming on my face at the end of our last date would have been a dead give away as to my disposition.  I guess not.


I fucked two guys on Christmas night: A holiday tradition

No, not this Christmas, sadly.  It’s just me fondly reminiscing again about one of the best nights of my life.

Last year I wrote the following blurb:

Peyton is with my ex for the next few hours and I am home alone watching a bunch of hokey Christmas movies and sipping on cheap champagne. The Neighbor is in colder weather with his family and I am alone with a herd of Christmas animals I’ve volunteered to watch for a few days. Life is pretty good at the moment. I just wish I had wood for my fire — it’s somehow lonelier without one.

Anyway, I thought I’d share one of my favorite sexy Christmas memories and most popular posts with you all today: I fucked two guys on Christmas night.

This year is much the same as last and all the others: Peyton is with my ex for a few hours so I’m alone, I’ve got the herd of animals (but they’re mine this time), no wood for the fire (or a fireplace, but I like to watch the Fireplace Channel so I sort of have one — don’t judge!), and The Neighbor is once again in much colder weather with his family.

What’s different is someone loves me.  Not a bad change.

I love this Christmas Story of mine not just because of its salacious nature, but because it marks the beginning of everything for me.  It happened 4 years ago today, seemingly a lifetime, but just like yesterday.  I can still close my eyes and feel them on me.  That was a night to go in the record books.  And without it I might not be where I am today.

Troy reached out to me recently — filled with his own nostalgia I presume — and suggested that he, Jack and I get together for a drink.  I told him I’d love to.  Troy and I crackle when together and Jack is the perfect grounding unit.  It could be a lot of fun, like old school-time buddies except we’re talking cocks and pussies, not keg stands and finals.

I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and hope that today brings you much love and warmth!

Lots of love,