A Day of Firsts, Part I

She slid under the warm covers, settling down into the mattress and sighing. She hated it when he started feeling unwell and sleeping crazy hours. It meant that when he got up, she was going to bed, and when she got up, he was almost ready to go to bed. Completely opposite schedules.

And she was so horny, too!

She'd been hot and wet all day. She was seriously beginning to wonder if maybe she was hitting her sexual prime a little early, because she'd been obsessed with sex for a while now. Trying to ignore it didn't seem to be working. She just kept getting hornier and hornier, no matter what she tried to distract herself.

Absently her hand traveled up under the quilt and started to massage her own breast. God, she needed a good fucking. But she wasn't about to risk her marriage for a roll in the hay. She'd just have to wait until her husband was feeling better. But God, what torture it seemed to be!

As she lay there thinking and rubbing her own tits, her breath quickened. She had to do something about the throbbing between her legs or else she'd NEVER get to sleep.

Wriggling out of her pj bottoms, she spread her legs wide under the quilt. One hand still tweaked, rolled, and pulled at a nipple while the other slid down to her crotch. Rubbing her outer lips, she felt how much hair there was down there. Man, I need a shave, she thought. Must remember to buy razors the next time I go into town.

She slid one finger between her pussy lips and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Wow. I don't think I've ever felt myself this wet before. Running her finger along the inside of her pussy lips, she gently traced her way to her clit. Jesus! I really AM horny, aren't I? She'd never felt her clit so engorged before.

Ah well, she thought. I guess it's a day for firsts.

Running her fingers in circles around her clit, she thought of the last time they'd had sex. It had been a better-than-usual encounter, and she'd came at least twice. Switching to two fingers to rub up and down both sides of her clit, she remembered how he'd lifted her up by her hips and slammed his cock into her. God, that had felt so good. Her pussy had been on fire and she felt it all the way up to her chest.

Seriously worked up by now, she was almost desperate for release. Reluctantly she let go of her clit to reach over to his side of the bed. Getting the pink vibrator from the miniature chest on his table, she lay back down and brought the quilt back up to cover her shoulders, stopping for a minute to listen for any sounds of footsteps on the stairs. Hearing nothing, she spread her legs wide once again and slipped the tip of the vibrator into her. Realizing that she was so wet that lubrication wasn't even going to be a problem, she shoved it in all the way and turned it on, dialling it up to maximum speed.

One hand returned to her clit, while the other resumed its nipple play. God, she thought, I wish he understood just how much I love it when he plays with my tits. I'd probably come all over him if he did.

It didn't take too long for the fire in her belly to start growing. Feeling her orgasm building, she finally abandoned her tit to spread her pussy lips wide with one hand while the other rubbed frantically on her clit. Images flashed in her mind: him, kneeling on the bed, naked, with his magnificent cock sticking straight out at her. Him, laying on the bed naked while she sucked his cock. Him, in the house they'd moved into shortly after getting married, sitting on the desk naked while she sat in the desk chair, sucking his cock and talking to her sister on the phone at the same time.

That one still made her giggle.

Impatient now, and finding the desperation to come too much to bear, she slipped the vibrator from her hole and pressed the tip to her clit. A slight smile flitted across her face the moment it touched - though she much preferred sex with another person, there was just something about the way a vibrator felt.

Very gently, she rubbed the vibrator around her clit, trying to find just the right spot. It never seemed to be in the same place twice! Damned thing has a mind of its own, that's for sure. Finally finding it, she threw her head back on the pillows. Oh God yes.

The more she felt her orgasm build up inside of her, the more she felt she needed it. Quickly alternating between rubbing the tip of the vibrator against her clit and pressing it into her sweet spot, she felt the heat inside of her grow.

Just as she came, she pressed the vibrator firmly into her clit. As wave upon wave of her orgasm hit, her eyes rolled back into her head and she began bucking against her own hand and the vibrator. It seemed to take forever for the waves to subside completely.

Switching off the vibrator, she opened her eyes...

... and looked directly into her husband's.

Porn and Contradiction

It pains me to admit this, but I have a problem with porn.

Not in the abstract, just for me personally.

In the abstract, I think there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. I mean, a person who watches and reads rape-fantasy-type stuff and then goes out and DOES it... yeah, that person's got a problem. But the porn isn't the problem, and even taking that out of the equation isn't going to change the end result. But for the majority of the population, I don't see anything wrong with it.

But me? It makes me uncomfortable. And I'm not sure why.

The thing is, it only makes me uncomfortable in certain situations. Specifically with The Husband. Hell, even particularly raunchy scenes in movies make me uncomfortable when I'm with him. I can't even look at the screen if we're both watching together. (Example: the early scenes in From Dusk 'Till Dawn where the strippers are actually, you know, stripping. As opposed to trying to suck the life out of their customers.)

But if I'm alone? Nope, they don't bother me in the least. In fact, I quite enjoy them.

What the fuck?

I mean seriously - that's pretty fucked up. I can watch porn on my own but not with my own husband? What the hell is going on here, brain? (I don't know, Pinky. But I'm going to find out!)
I know it ties into this whole "can't let hubby see who I really am" thing, but I'm not sure exactly how. Is it the puritan ideals I was bombarded with growing up? Is part of me still thinking that porn is something to be ashamed of?

Is it my fear that if he knew what was really going on in my head, he'd think less of me?

Or does it have to do with me being afraid that if we watched porn together and then had sex, he'd actually be fucking one of the women in the film and just using my body to do it with?

I honestly don't know. I know that all of those things go through my head, but I honestly couldn't tell you which is the one that tips the scales.

I couldn't even watch the homemade porn he made of the two of us together! See what I mean? How fucked up is that, if I can't even watch MYSELF?

It's embarassing, just how fucked up I am.

Why?

Why a blog?

Well, to be quite honest, I'm doing this more for me than I am for popularity or entertainment. See, I have this problem.

In my head, I am a nymphomaniacal, sometimes dominating, hotter-than-the-fire-of-a-thousand-suns sex goddess that has my husband on his knees begging for mercy.

In reality... not so much.

Occasionally we've gotten glimpses of that inner sex goddess - but only when I've been heavily impaired by alcohol or marijuana or a combination of the two. (And for the record, I'm of the camp that doesn't believe that a person behaves OUT of character when under the influence. I personally believe that those chemicals - whatever they may be - simply bring things to the surface that the non-impaired person goes to great lengths to conceal. You're seeing the real person - just another side to that person, a side that they normally wouldn't want to reveal. For some people it's violence, for some it's bigotry of one form or another. For me, it's my inner slut.) But in our "normal" sexcapades? No.

Why the hell not? you're probably thinking. And the honest answer is: I don't know. I know that there is nothing wrong with being the slut I picture in my head. I know that there really isn't a "bad" thing about being fully in touch with my sexuality. And yet there is still the fear and shame I feel when I consider actually DOING some of the things I fantasize about.

In some ways, I'm a generation behind my own times, because I was raised by my grandmother. So at home, it was like being in the 60's and early 70's. Euphemisms for everything revolving around sex, sexuality, and reproduction in general, and even then it was hardly ever talked about (example: she was absolutely flabbergasted when she realized I knew what a period was and knew that I'd gotten it). And yet in the outside world, it was the 80's and early 90's. To call me confused was an understatement. And since it was mainly just her and I (my aunts and uncles all scattered to the 4 corners of the country), there was no one else for me to turn to, so I just stayed confused.

But then there's also the fact that, before my grandmother regained custody of me at age 8, I was abused. (It's a long story, but here's the Reader's Digest version: at 18 months old, my grandparents went to court to get custody of me. I lived with them until I was 5, when my grandmother shattered her hip in a motorcycle accident and had to have a full hip replacement; it left her unable to care for herself, much less me. So I went back to live with my parents. Between then and when my grandmother got me back at 8 [by which time my grandparents had also gotten divorced], I suffered major abuse at the hands of my father. Every type of abuse imaginable. By the time I went back to live with my grandmother at 8 years old, the damage had been done.) So yeah, that adds a second level to my issues regarding my sexuality.

And I became sexually active young - way too young, to be completely honest. In no way, shape, or form was I even remotely ready to handle the emotional consequences. Not that I would have admitted it then. I felt like 12 going on 20, mainly due to what I had gone through already. And yeah, I was way more mature than an average 12 year old. But nowhere near ready to make a decision on my own sexual health.

And the last ingredient for the mix, self-esteem issues. For most of my life, I had little to no self-esteem. And you'd be surprised how many aspects of your life are affected by it. My sex life suffered tremendously. It wasn't until I finally started to get myself some self-esteem that I realized just how badly it had been ruining my life. Everything was suddenly better, including our sex life.

I guess this is kind of a self-therapy, if you will.

Because... we've got the Sex Bomb in my Head competing with the Angry Nun in my Head. Think of this blog as a little bit of each, with a little creativity thrown in for good measure. Because it's likely that my posts with rotate between the three. There may be times when it seems like I've got multiple personality disorder or something, the difference is so distinct. But I assure you, it all comes out of my head.

I'm not saying my head is anything close to a sane place, though.

About the creativity... I've been itching to write some more erotica. I wrote and published a few stories years ago, and then it kind of just fell to the wayside. But lately I've been feeling the urge not just to write, but to write specifically erotica, and I figured a blog was as good a place as any to do that.

I suppose it would probably be good for me to give some idea of who I, and we, are. I am 30-something, mother to 4, American ex-pat in the UK, monogamous and faithful to my husband. He is 30-something, father to 2 and stepfather to the other 2, British, monogamous, but previously unfaithful. (He had an affair in '04. We're working through it. It'll never be "done" with, but time has proven to me that I CAN trust him again.) We have been married nearly a decade. We agree on pretty much all of the big things and most of the small things. We're alike in good ways and different in good ways, too. We are not perfect, though, and our relationship does have its ups and downs. Thankfully things always swing back up again, though. :)

I suppose some people would think us boring - monogamous, faithful, heterosexual, white. But that's why we work so well: we both agree on those things. I could never be in an "open" relationship, and neither could he; we're just not built that way. However, having said that, neither do we judge nor condemn people whose sexual lifestyle might be described as "alternative." Polyamorous, queer, whatever... We are not the kind of people that think that what works for us is the ONLY way to go. Um... no. What works for us works for us because we ARE us. What works for other people is going to be different because they ARE different people.

So I guess we're open-minded bores. ;)

I'd also like to go on record here as saying that if you want to comment, please feel free. Dialogue is one of the best ways to get a person thinking and self-examining, and I wholeheartedly welcome it. All I ask is that you be respectful - both of me and of anybody else you might be responding to. Even if you disagree with something - you can disagree with somebody without being an asshole. So let's everybody NOT be assholes and we're all good. 'Kay?

And if I post something you particularly like, telling me that ain't gonna hurt, either. ;)

God Bless the Missionary

I am all for experimentation in sex, but sometimes... sometimes plain-old "vanilla" sex just hits all the right spots.

Last night was everything I was anticipating, and more. I don't know if it was because of the anticipation or what, but everything seemed to feel... more. I'm not exactly sure how to put it into words. It was like every nerve in my body was aching for his touch, and when it finally came, I burst into flames. Everything was more intense than the night before, which was strange. You would have thought that the night before - the first time in weeks that he's wanted anything to do with me - would have been the most intense of all. But no. Marital Sex Take 2 was the big one.

It was also the first time in a long time that Hubby managed to do the missionary position for the whole duration. He had an accident in 2003 that permanently fucked up his back, so sex for us usually involves at least 2 positions - usually more like 3 or 4.

And there's also the fact that the missionary has become my new favorite position, post-children. (Yes, I am a mother. And I have sex! Shock of all shocks.) Pre-children, doggy was my favorite. But my insides seem to have permanently shifted, in such a way that doggy is excruciatingly painful now. Which is a total bummer, yeah, but at least there are other options. And it was only through trial and error that I realized that missionary now gives me everything that doggy used to give me. Mainly, it puts his cock in just the right position to get to both my g-spot and my cervix, not to mention there's the whole friction thing between my clitoris and his pelvis.

Um yeah. Can we say mind-blowing orgasm? 'Cuz that's pretty much what I had. And just so it doesn't seem that I'm totally self-centered, I feel the need to say that he seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself just as much. After nearly 10 years of marriage, I can tell when it's just "okay" and when it's "wow."

Last night was a "wow... why can't EVERY time be like that?" occurrence.

And then this morning, just as I was about to get out of bed, he puts his arm and leg over me like he wants a cuddle... and proceeds with some nipple play.

The teasing bastard! I've got to get up and get the children ready for school, and he wants to leave me all teased and horny like that?

Yeah. Pretty much!

Sweet Anticipation

First, since this is my first post on this blog, I suppose I should take a moment to introduce myself and this thing here.

I'm obsessed with sex lately. This is not a "normal" occurrence for me, but neither is it "abnormal." I tend to go in phases, though I have a high sex drive anyway.

But lately it's been bad. Real bad. I'm reading erotica and fantasising about having sex with my husband, who either isn't interested or simply isn't available. Then I masturbate, imagining myself and said husband in whatever story it is that I've just read.

When I'm horny, I turn to erotic literature more than I ever would porn. Porn is okay, and it has its place, but language is the medium that speaks to me. I suppose it's because I love language anyway - I've always considered myself something of a writer (amateur, yeah, but still...) and I much prefer the images my own mind's eye comes up with than some director's "vision."

And so I turn to blogger, where I can get my frustrations at least out in the open, even if I choose to do so anonymously. And anonymous I plan to remain, at least for the time being.

Oh, I should give credit where credit is due, though. The blog name/my pseudonym? Inspired by Deliciously Naughty. I've been lurking - on and off - at her blog for quite some time now, and as soon as I saw that name, I was miffed that I hadn't thought of it first. And then I started reading, and realized that she damn well deserved that name. So, instead of ripping her off entirely, I came up with what's basically a synonym for her name. But I am a fair person, so I thought I should give her credit (since she did come up with the idea first!).

But back to the topic in the title... Hubby must have picked up on my pheremones or something, because he's suddenly interested. He surprised me last night by suggesting I take a bath. Especially when it comes on the heels of my period finally leaving for the month, "why don't you take a bath" is code for "I want to have sex but you know I'm squeamish around your womanly stuff, so go take a bath so I don't have to think about the fact that you were just bleeding down there for a week."

Fun Fact 1: Hubby is notoriously squeamish around blood and guts. Even seeing them on television - when he knows they are real. He can watch a horror movie just fine, even the most gory of them. Because he knows it's fake. But watch - for example - a surgery that was filmed? Yeah, he actually gets sick.

I laugh at him.

So I took a bath and then replaced the bath water for him, so he could take a bath. (Hey, he might be squeamish about my having been on my period, but at least he's fair! *grin*) While his bath filled, the foreplay began, vibrator included.

I love him so much for buying that vibrator. It was a surprise for me, and BOY was it ever a good surprise! He didn't even show it to me first - he just hid it until we were in the middle of sex and then just shoved that thing inside me, going at full tilt. My eyes popped out of my head and I had the best orgasm I'd had in years. But anyway.... ;)

After his bath, the festivities continued. So much so that it eventually became too much for me and I had to ask him to stop. I was actually hurting, we'd fucked so much. I realized why when I looked at the clock. We'd fucked for 2 hours straight.

I can tell you the last time that happened. Last May. There was a period of about 2 weeks when he would keep me up literally all night.

And earlier tonight, he warned me: "don't go staying up all night... or you'll really be up all night!" Which is again, code for "take 2 scheduled for whenever you come to bed!"

So here I sit, in sweet anticipation, unable to think of anything but the fact that I'll be having sex with my husband later.

And I'm still so pathetically in love with him that just that knowledge is enough to have me throbbing in breathless anticipation.