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.
It was a long weekend. Family. Funeral. Friends.
Drugs and alcohol.
And M and I were up late last night, and didn’t end up fucking until after midnight.
And apparently I got off again on his hand randomly in the middle of the night.
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.
She was leaning against the bar, half watching the game, idly playing on her phone. He’d been watching her all night–hell, all month if he’d be honest with himself. Every Sunday, Monday, and Thursday, she rolled in, ordered a 7 and 7, and pretended to watch whatever football game was on the big screen.
Every once in awhile, I get an email from a reader looking for advice, and often times it’s about how to ask for D/s or add some BDSM to the bedroom. While I’m not necessarily an expert, I’ll offer my advice when I can.
After being gone for just two days (I know, I know, I made it seem like we were apart forever), I finally made my way home last night. A rushed dinner was followed by story time and bedtime kisses, then the kiddos were tucked into bed and encouraged to fall asleep.
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.
I figured this year would be the only year I would get to make her day extra special. I therefore wanted to make 34 one she’d never forget. And with her birthday Saturday and M’s on Wednesday, it seemed like the perfect weekend to celebrate.
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.
When he’s big,
I am small.
His weight on my back,
He makes me, not weak,
But fragile, precious,
To be cared for.
Wrapped around me,
His flesh hot against mine,
I ache for him
Lets face it, sex rocks. I imagine you feel the same too, or you probably wouldn’t be here reading this.
But lately I’ve been thinking, us girls in our thirties, we’re a bunch of fun. We’re finally over our adolescent expectation of fairy tales and knights in shining armor. We fully understand that you can’t read our mind and know that you don’t expect us to be perfect. We’re well enough into our careers and our life that we know how to take care of ourselves and can stand on our own two feet.