When your sex life is in the slumps, it sometimes feels like it’s easier to just let it go rather than try to fix it. After all, maybe you’re getting a little older. Maybe you still have babies in your bed. Maybe you’re out of shape. Maybe it’s just easier to throw in the towel.
So, as I’m attempting to build my online presence, I’ve been spending a lot of time on social media *read: procrastinating and not working*. And through this, I randomly have random conversations with random people.
Is the happily married couple a rarity?
My father and his wife, married for 15 years, hate each other. Oh, they try to play nice when others are around, but deep down, they can’t stand one another.
Relationship priority. It’s a concept that many of us may never have heard of, but it’s been on my mind for awhile now.
It’s something I’d never heard of until a few years back, when I went out with Paige. If you read back then, you remember it didn’t go quite as expected.
I think porn gets a bad rep.
I happen to like porn. A lot. And apparently so does most of America. And yet we judge porn watching people all the time. And nobody admits to it, but come the fuck on folks, it’s estimated that 40 million Americans watch porn regularly.
A few months back, I remember reading a post from Confessions of Your Husband’s Mistress about what men want, discussing the dichotomy of prim and proper during the day and wild and raunchy at night. I actually emailed the link to M to get his thoughts on it, which were pretty much “Yep, that’s what we want” (he’s not much of a talker).
With day jobs and three kids at home, sometimes it’s easy to forget the little
things in your relationship. It’s easy to go about your day, moving from one thing to another, homework, dinner, evening news, and never stopping to catch your breath.
As I mentioned in my last Stealing Sunday post, I’ve been trying to work on meditation. It doesn’t
seem to be working too well for me, as I’m more scatter-brained then normal (stupid fucking March, 16 days left and still no house) and tend to run in 10 different directions at once. But I need something to help ground me. Help me keep my mind and spirit focused on what’s important, not just the chaos that is my life. Meditation (or at least my attempt at such) and masturbation have become the cornerstones of my sanity.
It’s time, ladies, to stop. It’s not helping you, it’s not helping him, it’s not helping anyone. And I’m sure I’m going to hear it from some of you, giving me multiple reasons of why it’s not a bad thing, but I’m going to disagree… And I really don’t think I’ll be swayed. But you never know…
Mmmm… Yes, right there… A little harder… Oh, that’s perfect…
We all like to know that are lovers are enjoying themselves when we are doing whatever it is that we are doing… sucking their dick, licking their pussy, playing with their ass. The moans and groans of pleasure are sexy as hell, but you know what’s even sexier… talking dirty.
I’ve had a strange relationship with my nipples and nipple play throughout the years. I’ve always had big boobs, and was one of the first girls in school to have to wear a bra. Once in high school, it made me popular, but that when hand in hand with lots of comments and ogling. This seemed to make me disconnect with my boobs. I cared less that they were there, and often wished I was a girl with “itty-bitty-titties.” So for years, and I mean YEARS, nipple play did not do a whole lot for me. It felt nice, even good sometimes, but overall, it wasn’t going to get me anywhere. At 23, I decided to get them pierced. Not because I was looking for more pleasure (pain?) from them, but simply because I loved the way a bar bell looked through a hard nipple. To my surprise, it really increased the pleasure I felt through nipple play. I’d love it when M and would tug on the rings with his teeth. Even just simple squeezes felt better.