Here, I call myself Caitlyn McConnell, although I assume most of you must realize that’s not who I really am, merely just a small piece of the real me.
I find myself in a weird place here, where I once felt more me than anywhere else. A place that feels vaguely familiar, yet intrinsically different.
Preface: Nothing but rambling as I work out my thoughts. Just warning y’all.
As a writer, I’m always focused on word counts and deadlines and productivity, so when it comes to writing for me, writing to sort my own shit out, I tend to avoid it, almost because I feel it’s a waste of words. Words that should be put towards assignments, looming deadlines, works in progress, or at least here on the blog.
I shouldn’t be posting right now. There are 152 things I need to get done. Writing that’s already missed its deadline. A deadline approaching that is impossible to reach at this point. Dishes to due. Laundry to put away. Legs that need shaved.
One of my long-term goals is to become a writer. Well, I write, therefore I guess I am a writer. But I want to be an author. And it’s not about fame or money or publicity (which really doesn’t happen with most writers anyway). And honestly, as much as I’d love to see my name on the cover a book, it’s not even that.
Christ, as much as I wished my summer away, due to busyness and obligations, I never would have done it had I known what September had in store for me.
Not only was there school starting and helping the kiddos get back into the swing of things, but then there was an anticipated job change that fell through, leaving one of us unemployed and finances a little tight.
Dear assumed drug addict,
My name is LSAM and today was the second happiest day of my life, which is exactly what I said to my husband M earlier. Today we bought our first house. It’s not a pretty house right now, but it will be. And it’s ours. We own it. No one can take it from us. The only day that I have been more excited in my life, was the day I got married…
Okay, it’s been a long time since I’ve gone off on LSAM. And I mean truly gone off and freaked out and ranted and raved about something I’ve read. Months, at least. And honesty, I wasn’t even going to write tonight, I was simply going to do a meme, as I’m tired as shit, it’s been a long Monday, which followed a long, sore weekend **good and bad sore. After Friday night, M had me where I was sore both on my pussy and my ass, and then too much alcohol and Ritalin, accompanied by a 5 am bedtime, left me with a very sore head and attitude**. But then this article stumbled across my feet, and my filter was removed, and know I’m spilling it onto you my dear readers. You’ve been warned. Rant approaching.
Alright you little pervs… First and foremost, I need to apologize to you. I have a handful of faithful readers, and I’ve dropped the ball as a blogger… I used to post everyday, or at least almost everyday. And, if you know me, you know that my life has been chaos. But that doesn’t make for an excuse to slack on my responsibilities. I really am going to try and do better. We’ll see.
My evening played out a little differently then I imagine it would… I was hoping to get laid (go
figure), and I tried to set it up that way, as my first text to M this morning was simply “Morning lover. and just a heads up… i really need fucked.” I thought that would do the trick. But, as often happens, life gets in the way. I was home late from work, and that made the hubby a bit pissy. We battled it out a bit, trying to see who could be pissier. But after dinner, before the kids’ bath, I gave him a blow job — a pretty good one if I do say so myself (hands wrapped in hair, a bit of gagging, face fucking, coming on my tongue, then a deep dick swallow — sorry, apparently I’m still stuck in the TMI mode). And then I put the kids in the tub, and by the time I got them in bed, he was peacefully sleeping on the couch. So, I guess only self-loving for LSAM tonight. Oh, well…
First, let me apologize. I feel like I’m ranting, again. But I didn’t know what to post tonight, and I just came across this, and it pissed me off, so here you go.
Where do people get this shit! I found this on YourTango.com (whose tag line is Smart Talk About Love), which I get daily emails from. Sometimes it has interesting articles, which can help to spark my imagination on upcoming posts. Today was not one of those days. I was rummaging through my emails tonight, and I see an article titled “She’s Doing Threesomes & He’s Doing Lonesome.” And I instantly thought about my threesome series and thought it may be interesting to tag. And then I started reading it…
I used to masturbate to fantasies that I was a man. (I think that sounds really weird). I remember specific times when a boy would be going down on me, and I would have trouble getting into it. I would start to imagine that I had a dick that was being sucked… I’m thinking this boy liked to gently suck on my clit when he’d go down on me… Maybe leading to these thoughts. There are also times that I’ve definitely fantasized while riding a guy, about being a man and having a sexy little thing under me, fucking her. My cock sliding in and out of her wetness.
I see her, sucking my dick. Soft lips surrounding my cock. Her tongue doing circles around my head. I begin to move my hips, lightly pushing against her face. **I start fucking his face now, my hand in his hair, pushing his mouth against my clit.**
I image her pussy, warm and wet. Silky and smooth. In my imagination, my whole cock tingles with nerve endings, sending pure pleasure through my veins. Pushing into her and feeling her tightness surround me, pulling me in.
And then the power. I’m the one doing the fucking. I’m the one in charge. It’s me making her scream like that, making her convulse underneath me. It’s my cock making her drip with wetness, making her cum again and again.
I don’t know. I imagine that sex feels better for men than for women. Although, I don’t know how
So, as I was surfing the net today, looking up random stuff on sex (one of the many benefits of having a blog), I came across this bullshit
advice article from Men’s Health titled “10 Signs She’s Not Satisfied.” I’m normally a big fan of Men’s Health, but this thing just pissed me off. While a few (2) may have some validity, the rest are fucking stupid. Take a look at the dumb ass advice they are giving you guys. What The Fuck!?!