Thursday, 31 July 2008

HNT - Spread

As he stood over me, I remembered our earlier conversation.

The one where I told him I wondered if I should take up one of the offers to help cure my cuntphobia. Perhaps someone new that I didn't associate with the condition.

Maybe a woman.

I was advised on a couple of occasions that women are better cunnilingually than men because they know what they like themselves.

I think he was remembering too.

Because it wasn't long before I had, to quote my friend Z, a cunt full of face and the proof that even considering that particular course of action was now superfluous.


Wednesday, 30 July 2008

Sugasm #142

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #143? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

Interludes - part 3 “He winds the rope around his hands, smoothing the kinks, and I stand there, breathing a little faster, conscious of all those eyes upon me.”

Hurts So Good “I want you to wear the badges of sweet distress for days.”

Shower fantasy “You don’t want to admit it, but you want me.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice Why I haven’t blogged about the Mosley case

More Sugasm

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See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Tuesday, 29 July 2008

The Come Shot

Sugasm #143

Sometimes I wish I could come like the women in the porn videos. Glacial, porcelain dolls with flawless skin and perfectly made-up faces.

You don't see their bodies going blotchily red and hear them howling like a banshee. There is no sloppy wet patch where their mouths have dribbled on the pillow or a puddle of gunk where the mixture of semen and orgasm has leaked convulsively from between their legs.

Their faces remain uniformly the colour the make-up artist applied earlier, not red-cheeked and white-eyed, frantically blinking. They might screw up their eyes, wrinkle their noses and mouth breathily 'Oh, oh, baby that feels so good'. Their visage is not drawn up in some kind of snarling open-mouthed rictus, unable to formulate a coherent sentence as they shriek for God or Jesus or the Ruffian's real name one after another.

No involuntary spasms or abandonment of any semblance of control for them. Whereas I... I...

Well, I just wish I could keep it all neat and pretty. And with my anal obsessive compulsive personality, you'll all know how hard I have tried. But it is not to be.

To come is to let go.

To release the demons that possess me and let them have their way unrestrained, unfettered and so, so free.

And Ruf says he thinks it's beautiful.

Monday, 28 July 2008

Mute Monday: Brand(s)

I have to break the muteness to remind people of this series - one of the earliest programmes I can remember watching. I was enthralled by the opening credits, which I have been unable to find online. Even though I was so very young, I was mesmerised by the soldier having the epaulettes and insignia ripped from his jacket and his sword broken over the officer's knee because he was accused of being a coward.

Of course, no Mute Monday would be complete without a Star Trek reference, so I give you Admiral... Andrea Brand :)


Friday, 25 July 2008

OverRated: The Scaramanga Fallacy

I have a mole on my chest. It's been there all my life. When I was a child it was so tiny, small and flat that it doesn't notice on any of those naked in the paddling pool shots that are a staple of every child's photo album. But as I grew older and developed my boobs, it ran out of room. Sort of scrunching up and becoming more knobbly.

Naturally, I have always been quite self-conscious about it, particularly as it is sited just under my left breast and is, I feel, rather unsightly. Things were not improved when Jo Whiley, the Radio One DJ had a 'large mole removed from near her boob which doctors later told her was a third nipple'. Someone else told me it was actually a wart and not a mole. I'm not sure that made me feel any better at all.

Recently, I watched a programme on C4OD about triple nipples. The maker, Dan Louw, has four of them and had been led to believe he had inherited the extra two from his twin who died in the womb, although this later proved to be unfounded.

He had done a lot of research on the subject and had actually found a woman who had one under her armpit which physically lactated when squeezed!

Not long ago, Lily Allen revealed hers on The Sunday Night Project. Although I have to say that it looks more like a birthmark from this distance. Mark Wahlberg apparently also has an extra one.

I hasten to add that my mole has no areola. It doesn't stiffen when I get aroused or cold. It hurts like hell if I knock it or catch it in the wire of my bra when I'm being sporty, so the concept of piercing it (as some people have) definitely does not appeal.

As I've become more attuned and observant, I have noticed that a lot of other people have a very similar type of mole. One friend had the protuberance on her neck, another on the top of her boob. The explanation seems to be that they all fall in the 'line' where the milk ducts would be if we were still quadrupeds (imagine the two lines down the body of cats and pigs) so, naturally, people assume that they are additional nipples.

However, that is inconsistent with the one on the side of Lily's boob? The lactating one under the woman's armpit? Others which I have seen on backs and also for mine which is positioned in the middle of my chest?

I have talked vaguely about having it removed a la Jo Whiley but it's been there so long, nestled to one side of my ever-widening cleavage, that it hardly merits the effort. As Ruf said, when I'm naked, anyone else in the room tends not to be fixated by my mole when there are so many other distractions. The only time I'm really aware of it is when it gets knocked or I'm having my boobs checked for lumps.

If Scaramanga hadn't made the concept synonymous with evil, perhaps I wouldn't even give it a second thought.


Thursday, 24 July 2008

HNT - Statuesque

When I looked up at him, standing over me, Adonis-like, I couldn't help myself.

He reminded me of a more powerful version of Michelangelo's David.

Muscular tattood arms. Strong, hairy chest flowing into that hard, flat belly. Defined thighs framing a slowly diminishing cock, all slick and shinily coated in my orgasm.

I had to make him stop for a moment so that I could capture him forever.


Wednesday, 23 July 2008

Sugasm #141

With thanks to the Editor x

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #142? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Pick

Comedy vs. Tragedy “Are you on your period? What? Did he just say…”

Ian, or, Sometimes Sex is Hilarious “In short, it isn’t sex blogger sex.”

A Wish “I wish that you could know the indescribable pleasure of being enfolded in your warm, gentle wetness.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice Road Rage

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See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Tuesday, 22 July 2008


I eventually plucked up the courage to view it in its entirety.

Was it better or worse than just imagining them in my head? I'm not sure. When I first suspected the deception, my mind had been just as cruel in its depiction as any of the confirming images on the screen in front of me.

I guess some people would just have written a letter, but the anonymity of this piece of film permitted the whistleblower to have denial, whilst still delivering incontrovertible corroboration. It slipped into my inbox one day and the sender's name meant nothing.

I wondered how he or she had been able to obtain such intimate and persuasive evidence? Had the guilty couple filmed themselves for their own entertainment and allowed the mpeg to get into the wrong hands? Or had someone else felt it their duty to entrap them and spill the beans by tittle-tattling to the wronged spouses?

Whatever the genesis of the action, it was me that had to deal with the consequences. Finally open my eyes, stop making excuses and see the extent of the betrayal. Watch treacherous limbs wrapped around each other. Duplicitous mouths peppering hot kisses onto each centimetre of disloyal flesh. Hair falling over perfidious faces. Devious hands exploring, encircling and penetrating. Panting breath and whispered endearments. Their squelching, sweaty, sordid lust filling me with an incandescent rage, spilling over into scalding tears of shame.

Each unfaithful caress cutting into my soul like a knife. Twisting and turning in my guts. Eviscerating my self-esteem and destroying my belief in the timeless beauty of our love. Torturing my heart before ripping it to shreds.

Why was I not enough? Was there something I didn't do? Anything I could have done better?

For what purpose would someone send me this?

Now I have to face the facts behind my suspicions and decide upon some course of action that could affect two families.

And why the fuck do I feel the need to rewind and revisit ad nauseum...?

Monday, 21 July 2008

Mute Monday: Science





Saturday, 19 July 2008

The Cake Contraception Debate - the Results

After some discussion, a new Flexi-T has been inserted using a different dilator. The one he used last time gave a measurement of 6cms whereas the new thinner metal one managed to achieve 7cms so he has a suspicion that the previous device had not gone all the way in.

I find it very droll that, yet again, the regimen of breathing exercises for controlling pain which I learned so religiously when preparing for the births of my babies (and never used due to caesarean sections) has now come into its own again in terms of the prevention of any more pregnancies.

There was a great deal of puffing and panting from my end as he was fiddling around to ensure that this IUD was properly in situ. And I got that pain in my butt again so it's definitely linked to something that's happening in my uterus.

There was one big difference in the procedure this occasion. For the first time, I was actually able to see my cervix in the hand mirror. It looked like a stiff, fleshy blob with a puckered hole in the middle of it, from which the two blue strings were poking. It was a little bloody and battered but I still said 'hello'.

Afterwards I suffered from a fair bit of cramping and light bleeding. Within 24 hours the discomfort had diminished and on Tuesday night I attempted the exercises that I suspect caused the ejection. Only a couple of reps and with very careful attention to form just to see what happened. It felt a bit strange afterwards but the device seems to have stayed put, although I continue to lose some brown sludge periodically.

We will have to use alternative contraception for two weeks from the date of insertion to be sure that it is going to stay put but I don't see Ruf again for another week so this should not be too much of a drawback.

Thursday, 17 July 2008

HNT - Rear

I love wandering around Ruf's flat naked.

I have to be careful that no one is in the garden since it is on the ground floor, but it is such a warm, cosy place that my natural instincts are to be unshod and unclothed.

Perched on the edge of his computer chair, perusing the internet with a square of chocolate in one hand and a mug of tea in the other, he suddenly shouted 'Stop!' and proceeded to take the picture.

I have had such a love/hate relationship with my bottom over the last 30 years that to be able to expose it for the past few months has been something of a cathartic experience. That's not to say that I never received compliments on my pert derriere as a young woman. Several men were extremely effusive in their appreciation of it in tight jeans. But I always thought it stuck out too far and was, therefore, too big for my frame.

Of course it was my first crush who really caused the damage. Having adored him for five years, he started going steady with the proverbial beanpole. Straight up and down with no tits or bum at all. A few months later he made some throw-away comment about me 'having a huge arse'.

And the damage was done.


Wednesday, 16 July 2008

Sugasm #140

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #141? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

“Are you a sex blogger or a sexy blogger?” “It builds a community that I am so proud to be part of.”

The J Word “And while you’re with her, I’ll be with him.”

Transcending moment” It’s that place between fear and arousal, and they are so very closely related.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice Chill Pleasure

More Sugasm

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See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Tuesday, 15 July 2008

Road Rage

Sugasm #141 Editor's Choice

I was angry before I even started the journey.

A cold fury with myself for giving in and calling her. But it doesn't matter what I do, how hard I work, she is always there at the back of my mind. I need to see her. I knew I had to find a way to continue this but without hurting my family.

So I was driving to meet her after work, in uniform, about 6pm. My mind racing when, about three hundred meters from my exit, a car swerved in front of me, cutting me up, veering to take the exit. It was irritating and unnecessary. I sped up, got behind him and made sure he could see me. I caught his eye in the rear view mirror and extended my finger. No emotion on my face, just the finger. I kept it up there until he looked away, and left it up there until he looked again.

I pulled up to the stop light and he was in the left hand turning lane. His passenger window was down and his radio was blaring. Young, maybe twenty five, in a baseball cap. Just as his light turned green, he turned the radio down and snapped his fingers at me. I turned to look at him and he mouthed the word, "pussy", then turned back to the road. I could smell the alcohol. I cut across his lane, got behind him and trailed him for about a mile before I had to pull into the gas station. I was almost on empty, I couldn't afford to take the chance.

It gave me the time to cool down and get myself together. I stopped for a soda and cleared my head so I was much calmer when, some time later than had been arranged, I drove the jeep into the parking lot at the motel. We had arranged to meet in the bar across the street.

It had been a couple of weeks and I was unprepared for the feeling in the pit of my stomach when I saw her and, in registering that, I didn't notice the guy at first. It was only her defensive position, hands up keeping him back and the look on her face that alerted me. My instinctive mind saw a baseball cap and took in his attempts to put his hand on her arm as she knocked it away.

In a flash, I was beside her. I grasped his arm and swung him around. The force sent the cap flying and, grabbing onto his hair, I hit him in the nose, then the stomach. He swung kind of weakly, feebly in retaliation so I hit him one more time, not sure where. He fell to the ground holding his face. Then I turned to the bar, made sure my hat was straight in the reflection behind the bottles and flung some bills down onto the bar top. Gripping her wrist, I pulled her off the bar stool and made for the exit, dragging her after me.

She said nothing as I marched back across the tarmac, past my jeep to the usual motel room. When I paused to kick the door open, she calmly held out the key, so we entered with a little less panache than I would have liked.

I pushed her down over the bed, held her wrists securely in one hand above her head and ripped off her panties with the other. I could feel the adrenalin coursing through me as I pushed myself inside her. She was as wet as she had ever been, just as I had known she would be. Excited. Totally aroused. She had always wanted this. To have me fight for her... and in my uniform too. The culmination of so many fantasies, she was like putty in my hands. And, as she begged me to fuck her, I felt like the King of the World.

I rode her relentlessly whilst she screamed my name beneath me. I felt her cunt tighten around my throbbing cock, dragging the semen out of me in great long pulses that made me gasp.

This was what I needed.

What had been missing for way too long.

Monday, 14 July 2008

Friday, 11 July 2008

UnderRated Friday: Pelvic Floor Power

So, back to the story of my IUD.

Middy alert!!! Talk of gynaecological matters, menstruation and other women's stuff...

Two days after the trials of the initial insertion due to the tightness of my cervix and pelvic muscles, I woke up feeling very uncomfortable down there. I kept getting this pain that seemed to run up my back passage. When I sat down, it was as if someone was shoving a knitting needle up there. It became so bad that my vision went patchy and I was on the verge of blacking out. In terms of tolerance, I ask you to bear in mind that I had a termination without an anaesthetic and I didn't faint from that. I had to lie curled up in the foetal position for 15 minutes before the pain seemed to pass.

I have had something similar before at around the time of my period and always put it down to wind. This time, of course, I had the worry at the back of my mind about the possibility of a perforated bowel because of the recent introduction of my IUD.

I telephoned the FPS and the doctor there told me to come straight down. It transpired that the clinic didn't actually open until 11 that day but she let me in early because she was very concerned, given my history.

On examination, everything seemed to be where it should be and she explained that because it was new, it was 'settling' and could be pressing on the nerve leading to my bowel causing the pain so I went away reassured.

A few weeks later, Ruf and I managed to have sex - as instructed, with a condom, which was vile but it was a necessary evil. I passed the six week check with flying colours which meant that we could now rely on the device to do its job.

After the Flexi-T went in, I just kept bleeding and I was getting really fed up but I finally had a proper period - about 3 weeks after the 3.5 week-long one ended. The good news was that it was not as heavy as the ones I was used to having, so I had my fingers crossed that the advantages may include one that I hadn't taken into consideration, especially as the Gynae man kept saying that the copper coil would make everything worse.

The next period just over four weeks later and just before Xmas was also very manageable. Then nothing. When it failed to materialise for five weeks, I did a pregnancy test. I wasn't going to get caught like that again and, with the IUD, I needed to be careful of the possibility of an ectopic pregnancy. The test was negative. When it still hadn't appeared for 10 weeks, I did another test, just to be on the safe side as we had had two rampant weekends since the last. Again, negative. I started to wonder if this meant that I had had the easiest menopause in history and had just been incredibly unlucky to get pregnant from one of the very last eggs in the basket.

Unfortunately, my period finally decided to make a reappearance after four months. Since then, it has taken to turning up when it feels like it at about 5-8 week intervals but always with some spotting to give the warning that it is on its way and I will have a day of relatively heavy flow before it peters out again. This is a great improvement on how things were this time last year before The P Word reared its ugly head.

After eight months with the Flexi-T in situ, I was starting to get comfortable with the whole idea of this type of family planning. It was safe and easy. I decided I liked my intra-uterine device. I got used to enjoying lots and lots of great penetrative, semen-filling sex with no fear of unwanted repercussions.**

Which, of course, is when disaster struck.

After a particularly rampant and boisterous long weekend, I came back with mild cystitis. Nothing abnormal about that. My poor body had been battered and my bladder was probably bruised. I gave it the normal treatment of lots of bicarbonate of soda in a water solution drinks with neat water chasers. Pints of the stuff. Vile but it works much better than the over-the-counter flavoured products and you can use it more frequently.

And, naturally, I continued with my normal training and exercise regimen, which had been putting a lot of focus on working my pelvic floor muscles, as well as the transverse abdominal and the muscle that you use when you pee (for which I have no name).

After a week, I realised that, although the symptoms weren't getting worse, they also weren't improving. I didn't have that horrible urge to wee all the time that is the major sign of cystitis but when I did go, there was definitely a lot of irritation towards the end of the flow and I was starting to get back pain and a feeling of abdominal 'discomfort' - both of which could be explained away by the exercises I was doing or the imminence of my delayed period - but which are major factors to suggest that the infection was working its way towards my kidneys.

I hate going to the doctors so it took me two days to get around to making the call. I took the emergency appointment as, by this time, I had realised that I needed to get myself checked out... but I still felt like I was wasting her time.

The urine test confirmed that there was a definite bladder infection so she prescribed antibiotics and I got up on the table so she could check that the device was still where it should be. First, she noted a minor thrush infection, took a swab and wrote another scrip for that before moving her attentions upwards.

'Well, it's still there because I can see the strings quite clearly and.... Oh!'

Now, that really isn't what you want to be hearing when you're trying to relax with a speculum and somebody's finger up your jacksie.

'It's not really surprising you've been having these problems. I'm afraid I can see a lot more of your coil than I should be able to. It's half hanging out of your cervix and I shall have to remove it.'

And, with that, she pulled and the tiny little pink plastic - and rather crumpled - Flexi-T appeared painlessly in her hand, hanging by its blue strings.

At this point, I suddenly had the most hideous flashback to last year and what the consequences of failed contraception could be. The tears started bubbling up but there was nothing for it. I had to go to the chemist for my prescriptions and two pregnancy tests.

The first one has come back negative and I have to do another on Monday - two weeks after I last had sex - prior to my appointment with the Gynae to see what he has to say about my future method of preventing an unplanned pregnancy.

I keep thinking that it could just have been dislodged by the pounding of the rough sex that weekend, but I have a horrible suspicion that the new exercises are the culprit and the addition of some weights has meant that I have actually physically expelled it with the strength of the abdominal and pelvic muscle contractions involved in the repetitions.

I have opined at length about the superior tightness of that part of my anatomy and always viewed it as a good thing. But now it seems that very advantage has come back to bite me on the bum.

I'm not sure if I should even be surprised by the extent of their power when, in normal circumstances, they are put into play in conjunction with those of the uterus itself to evict a being that can weigh as much as 10% of it's host mother's bodyweight.

I have always had great difficulty when it came to being pulled apart for internal examinations and smears but, as I continued to religiously perform my Kegels, I definitely under-rated just how much of a drawback such power could actually become.

The question is, I guess, since the IUD has come out after only nine months, is it really safe to rely on another one even if I revert to some less effective lower abdominal and pelvic floor training?

**Safe Sex at all times. Please remember that Ruf and I are involved in a committed, long-term, monogamous relationship which commenced after clean bills of health had been obtained. If in doubt, always use a condom.


Thursday, 10 July 2008

Blogiversary HNT - Together

In honour of a whole year of blogging about our relationship, it seems only fair that you should actually see a picture of us together.

By this time, Ruf was getting a bit fed up with having to keep stopping so he could take my photo. So I had to explain to him how incredibly horny the whole scenario makes me and how much I wanted him to be in the frame as well.

I think, in the clickety-click, he actually enjoyed being a prop to try to preserve at least a vestige of my dignity.

He certainly seemed to appreciate it when, a few moments later, I showed him how grateful I was for his patient assistance...