And It Returns…

Like a persistent fool, it returns.  For what?  Does it think for a moment you will relent?  Again and again it comes back to haunt and to poke and to prod.  As if you would consent…  Because what if you did?  What then?  How would your acquiescence adorn you?  From here, it looks as if you will not wear it well.  An ugliness is all you can see.  Like a vice, it seems to seek only to entrap you in a bitter struggle to the death.  
We all ache. Maybe yours has been ignored for far too long that it is minding itself in the quiet recesses of your heart.  That place of darkness that houses the broken promises, deep intimate desires, hopes lost, times wasted, and the ache that used to remind you that you live.  That ache, we all have, though bound and gagged it may be.  The ache that used to be more real than your heartbeat.  The ache that your delusional self thought possible.  You have learned now, though.  You have trained its de-evolution quite well and have attained its submission.  It is now a dulled and forgotten wish amongst the others.  It knows its place well now and rarely attempts to surface. 

Ah, but how are you now?  Settled?  At peace?  Content to go on each day as if it were an adventure?  Relegated to your own cute and dainty spot on society’s moral pew?  Wonderfully sedated by the blue pill?  

Oppressed and suppressed by your own fear, you shirk under this pressure to stay in world filled with complacency and resignation.  Destroyed slowly by the steady series of breakings, your trust has now become full blown distrust. And this determined distrust is your aide and best friend in a cold world of monotony and delusion.  That ache is a heavy burden to bear and you cannot bear it anymore.  It refused to back down and you had to decide.  So decide, you did.  And now you worry not for things that could be, but exist only on that which you have convinced yourself will only ever be.  

But what if you could grant this ache its demand?  What if you could find what it is that would fill you with a pleasure that satiated said ache?  Is life worth living if it consists solely on survival?  On pacification?  On conformance and a sad hiding from truth?  

What is your ache?  What is it that you have settled for that disallows the chase of your heart into adventure?  What holds the key to these dark places that we hold so dear, yet so far from anything we allow others to see?  What is that which you have denied yourself for too long? Is it a business venture?  An art form?  A sexual side?  Whatever it may be, it is you.  The part of you that all should celebrate, yet too few actually care.  

If you have quieted your ache, let it speak.  If you have ignored it, stop and listen again.  Don’t you know that I have, too?  We all have.  Some rise above their fears and attain a place of true living.  Some refuse to allow their resignation to a life of anything less than grandiose fulfillment. Some have the strength to break in order to eventually heal and rebuild.  Let’s take their lead and follow the ache to new places we know we were meant to be.  Because the only other option is a bitter regret for what could have been and never was. 

Whatever your ache is…

It is there to show you your purpose, your real life, your heart.  Refuse the fear of failure and step out.  Don’t allow what others have done to you to silence your ache.  Don’t hide it away to only discover it again when it is too late.  Don’t settle for a life that serves merely to remind you daily what you are missing.  Stop your futile attempts at trying to live while you deny the only reason TO live.  For without passion for one’s heart cry, we all cease to be human and to know true humanity’s reason to live.  

Find your ache again. 

And this time, pursue its fulfillment until you reach that which will allow you to breathe again.  And in this ache, in this ache alone, will you truly find what it is to live.  




Sexual Ecstasy~Taste

It was so delicious. I needed to delay the absence of it in my mouth.  To roll it around on the tongue.  To edge on the tasting and swallowing.  To savor and stew in the flavors of it.  A taste so divine, so perfectly harmonious in ingredients, it seemed otherworldly.  
The sense of taste is a powerfully erotic addition to your sexual fulfillment. An unforgettable evening of culinary excellence can set the perfect tone for a long night of great sex.  However, as we all know, there are so many tastes to experience that create a sexual craving.  We can talk of aphrodisiacs.  Certain foods will most definitely move you from a need to an all out ache.  Or we can talk of the taste of a kiss.  The way they taste as you lick and bite and tease.  Do you crave the taste of their skin?  The differences in the tastes of her neck, her lips, her thighs…do you know these differences??  Do you revel in each of them?  

And what about that one taste on every man’s mind?  Everyone has their own distinct taste.  I know I have been said to taste very good.  But I haven’t ever heard a man say a woman tasted disgusting.  That’s right. I refer to her pussy.  Do you love how she tastes?  Does it please you to let her ooze into your mouth and give you of herself?  Better yet, the knowing that you have made her do it.  That you caused this sensation and explosion of taste in your mouth?  And when after you taste her, do you crave her as soon as she has left your mouth?  You think of her and the taste comes back as if on cue of a ready longing and anticipation.  Ah, yes…the power of taste. 

What of the women?  Ladies, which part of him do you crave?  He tastes of man. Rustic, dangerous, primal, earthy, beastly tastes that urge you on to keep tasting, keep exploring every last inch of him. A maelstrom of flavors to guide your tongue all the way from his mouth, down his neck. The descent from his chest to what he has for you. The differences in the taste of his balls and when his wet cock is in your mouth. And his cum…to play with it in your mouth, lick it off your hands, edging that line of tasting and swallowing before you finally allow it to run down your throat while he pleasantly watches.  (And guys, if she doesn’t do this…could be the bitterness of it due to your diet.  Read my post on this and then go get some pineapple.)  

Sensual deprivation is the depriving of one sense in order to enhance another.  Remember the scene from the movie 9 1/2 weeks?  The blindfold only served to heighten her other senses, especially the sense he had decided to focus on. That being taste.  If you notice, the crack of the egg was weirdly louder than it should have been.  And her taste buds were ultra sensitive.  Even her mind was deeply anticipating his every move and she leaned in to hear every little sound.  This is a beautiful way to explore the sense of taste in the bedroom….or kitchen…😉

As you drink your wine, ladies, pour it on your breasts and let it trickle down your stomach, then down between your legs.  He will love the taste of you mingled with the red wine. Spray whipped cream on every area you want him to savor and then wait, lying on the bed before he gets home.  
Guys, pour honey in her mouth and watch it dribble down her chin. Cover her in chocolate and feast. She is your appetizer, your entrée, and your dessert.  Hell, take your time and have 2 desserts.  

Explore and savor in the various flavors of one another.  Be aware of how you can incorporate this sense into your foreplay and into the bedroom. Take her into a world she knows not.  Taste each other and delight in the moment. 

Taste is a powerful force that leaves you craving for more.  



One Night Stand

Throw your clothes on, then grab your coat and out the door.  No breakfast made, no lying naked together, no morning kisses.  It was great sex, yet you almost immediately realize the fleeting satisfaction it brought. When was it?  Last night?  This morning?  Now, as you are rushing out the door?  When did it dawn on you that you needed more?  Like a drug, an addiction, the crave re-emerged almost immediately after. Shouldn’t this high last longer?  Why do you feel so empty so soon?
It is there.  That need for connection.  It is in all of us.  You may chase tail, but in reality you are subconsciously looking for a soul.  That which satisfies a longing for more than a one night stand.  You need more.  Those nights may fulfill for a moment or two. They may release the pent up sexual frustration.  But they will never fully satiate your craving.  You are human and need real touch. Not a superficial, skin on skin, cold and unattached episode that never gets deeper than a few moans.  It never permeates your being, making you forget who and where you are.  A one night stand doesn’t last past the few minutes it takes to remember.  It doesn’t repeat itself in feelings and emotions that mimic the night as if you were there again.  You might remember it…but as a distant memory, not a defining and lost in time, reverberating part of your life.

Sure, she may go deep on you and even gag…but a woman who actually feels you…who sees you…will do anything and everything to show you her heart and please you during sex.  Now doesn’t that sound better?  A woman who has had her soul touched will do anything for you.  I am talking real passion, true moaning, gag welcoming, mascara running, swallowing all, type of pleasing you.   

Male or female, we are all searching for this.  We are in desperate need of this connection.  And sex is the microcosm of this connection.  Sex is not the end of the search, but the by-product of a togetherness that is an inherent pull we all either hide or embrace.  We are made to need this contact.  A deeper touch that goes beyond just fucking.  

Maybe you were hurt and now merely survive by cumming in the presence of a stranger.  You now hide and repress the need for more.  Or maybe you do embrace it and search without ever finding.  So now you resort to the absence of it and settle for less.  

Stop running from it.  Stop settling.  You need this.  You will never be fulfilled by anything less.  Your heart cries for more and you know it.  
The sex will be the fruit of this connection.  It will show itself in passionate display of more than a quick fuck. More than body on body.  More than sweat and orgasms. Sex should begin way before you even physically touch.  It should begin in a connection and the intimacy will naturally flow and play itself out in a mind-blowing culmination of all that had led up to that moment.  There will be a definite difference in losing yourself in that person and in that powerful moment versus a temporary fix.  An orgasm can be completely unfulfilling if with the wrong person. It will last but a moment and leave you wanting. 

So either continue to lie to yourself and look for temporary fixes or admit your need and find your more. But don’t just search for sex per se.  Sex by itself will not satisfy you.  It may satisfy your body, but alone, it will never touch your soul.  




She goes on as if nothing is different.  Each day is a new day, but not to her.  To her, the days run together as if in a blur of time spent without consent.  Who could stop it now?  Everyone is so close. How can they be so close, yet never see her?  Do they want to see?  She lost sense of everything.  Was it all in one fell swoop or a series of events?  Her heart cries to be seen…just once.  Yet lost in a chaos of hopelessness, she doesn’t dare let down its guard.  One more time that hope is deferred, would be her bitter end.  For her shoulders hold past their capable weight as of now.  She knows to tow the line and say the words and smile through the pain.  
But someday, someone will see her.  

He can’t seem to put it down.  His struggle has become his identity.  He sees it, feels its twitch of control, hears it as if a lifesong playing without an end.  Will he ever be able to live without it?  Get up and know joy?  Open a door and lay the struggles down?  Close it and move on?  Is there light where there was only darkness before?  He knows his is a coping mechanism inherent in his life from too far back to remember.  He lives to drink.  He knows beyond that…there is dealing with what has happened.  If he puts it down, what must he pick up?  He knows he can’t ever let that happen.  

But someday, he must take pride in himself again.  

She sits alone, again.  Well, not alone in the technical sense.  Alone as emotionally unfulfilled and yearning for someone…while with someone.  She needs so many unspoken things.  Will she ever feel again?  God knows, she shut off her heart, hoping that she would grow numb and nothing would matter anymore.  To feel was to hurt.  So not to feel was bliss.  Could she get up and do this again tomorrow?  Sure. Is that what strength looks like?  Survival?  When does that run out?  Longing still, always, her heart betrays her again.  The ache is too much to bear.  Will she ever not be lonely?  She knows hers is a sentence she must live out.

But someday, her heart will find fulfillment again.

He drags his other leg off the bar stool and wonders why.  Was he not enough?  Was his attempts at loving her of no comparison?  He tried.  He gave her everything he had.  He knew he wasn’t perfect, but he did what he could to please her.  What went wrong?  And why?  When did she decide she didn’t want him?  He knows he can’t get the answers.  But he couldn’t help ask the questions.  His heart would heal in time.  He hoped.  He missed her.  He didn’t want a life without her.  Why was his love not good enough?  Why doesn’t she love him?  Did she ever?  He knows he cannot cope with her gone. He will let anger take over now.  And he will never love again.  Only invest in lust and sex. Never love…never again.  

But someday, he will find her and let himself love again.

Someday…I promise…someday.



Sexual Ecstasy~Sound

Silence.  No breathing or rustling of clothing.  Nothing…just your steadily increasing heartbeat as you strain to hear something, anything.  Desperate to hear because you can’t see.  Blindfolded with arms and legs tied, you quickly learn to listen.  What is he doing?  Where has he gone?  The sound of your own blood pumping is so loud as you try to quiet the questions and confusion in your mind.  Wait, footsteps…faint, but they must be his.  Suddenly you hear the door open and your heart jumps up into your throat.  It’s him…you know it.  His slow and purposeful walk is evident.  He is carrying something, brushing against his pants. You can hear his steady and controlled breathing as he stops right in front you.  The purpose in this silent moment of utter anguish is quite clear: He will do what he wants with you.  Now it feels as if you cannot breathe. Scared and yet so deliciously wet, you dare not to breathe…as if it would mean his punishment.  Suddenly the intensity skyrockets, as he slowly removes his belt and the mere sound of it annihilates your every inhibition.  For it brings an ache so real and utterly divine.  A longing for him so primal, so strong.  

This is the power of seduction by sound.  It is a raw and aching need that is awakened by hearing certain, very specific sounds.  They each have a connection to our core needs.  Each core need will have a sensual connection of one or several senses.  For instance, the sound of the belt will produce different things for different people. As a bratty submissive that enjoys some masochism, it releases a deep need in me to be punished for being naughty.  A real need to have pain mixed with pleasure.  

I love sensual stimulation; I am a very sensual person and need sound.  I believe we are all that way and we need to do what we can to make sure to add this element to our sex life.  Sound matters.  Whether it is a door shutting to signal control and the finality of what is about to occur or a zipper to release sexual anticipation.  I love the manly, guttural sound of a Harley when it is really deep and loud.  Just the sound of it feels like rough sex.  It always makes me look.  Similar to when I wear heels, it is a womanly sound and before he sees anything it will make a man’s head involuntarily turn to look.  Leather has a very unique sound as well and so very sexy.  I adore riding because of all senses coming alive while you are on that horse.  Sliding your foot in the stirrups, the sounds of the leather saddle creaking and stretching underneath you and the clip-clop of the hooves on the ground.  

I also love the noises a man will make as you please him sexually.  (Granted, they must still be manly.)  Slapping is a very skin-on-skin, controlling and punishing sound that will set a sadist’s blood pumping.  If you want me to immediately start to strip…put a little Marvin Gaye or Lenny Kravitz on…something about them and a few others have a soul about them that makes me need to touch my own skin, whip the hair and lose clothing…okay, gettin’ hot in here…let’s move on.

Rain.  It is such a peaceful, relaxed type of sexy.  Like a fireplace is mesmerizingly sensual in sound, sight, and smell…rain is the same.  It makes you instantly need to grab someone and lie under the covers for hours touching and just being together.  

There are so many sounds that will not only enhance, but define and fulfill your sex life.  Foreplay is so important to make sure the actual sex is epic instead of tolerable.  You can incorporate the sense of sound very easily to your day and ensure a state of arousal which creates all day foreplay.  Do these things and add sound effects to your sex life.   If it is raining, open a window and have slow, romantic sex.  Guys, put on a soulful song, tell her she is beautiful, and encourage her to dance just for you.  Wear a leather belt to work and use it on her later.  (Don’t forget your watch…)  Take her horseback riding and watch her straddle the fuck out of that beast.  Buy a Harley.  Blindfold her and watch her squirm to hear you.

Ladies, buy a pair of heels and watch the reaction to merely the sound of them.  Send him a sexy message with no pictures…just your voice…your very naughty voice…or the sound of how wet you are.  👈He’ll leave work for that shit.  And be sure to make lots of feminine sounds during sex: whimpers, moans, sexy taunting, etc.  And don’t forget to always make sure he hears how wet and sloppy the blowjob is.  Even when he is not looking at you, he should be able to hear how wet it is and how much you like it.  
And no talk, zero talk (do you hear me??) of the need to be quiet on account of other people or children.  No.  Your family, friends and children know about sex…okay?  They all know you do it.  Maybe they don’t want to hear you, but isn’t it better that they know you have a good sex life rather than complete silence signaling a very boring sex life?  Who cares what others think?!  Be fun and adventurous and let them all hear what an epic sex life can be.  They will want it, too.  

Be bold and add the sensual stimulation that sound creates.  Do crazy and fun things to fulfill yourself and your partner, in and out of the bedroom.  



Sensual Ecstasy~Sight

See, hear, smell, taste, and touch. 

All five senses should be fully engaged during sex and throughout the day.  Some of you may experience one or a few of these, but you must learn to incorporate all five as much as is possible.  Why is this important?  We are sensual creatures.  We have a propensity towards any triggering of any one of the senses. Each of these is a realm of awakening that can be attained if there is an awareness of the need for it, and the information on how to include and implement them.  Your orgasm alone is not enough.  Sex can be so much more fulfilling if you have taken an erotic, sensual journey to get there.  How much more does an orgasm satisfy you internally if there are core needs fulfilled along the way?  Yes, we can reach an orgasm via the vanilla way.  We can hurry and miss the ecstasy that sensual fulfillment can bring.  Or we can slow down and plan the experience ahead of time, ensuring the sensual needs are sated to the utmost degree.  A sensual satiation will deeply suffice.  Whereas merely cumming will leave you dissatisfied almost immediately afterwards.  To this I advise a rediscovery of what it is that makes us sensual creatures at our core.  

We will start with the sense of sight. 

 This is imperative, yet not more so than another.  To engage this sense, we must determine what our partner needs to see.  By ‘needs’, I refer to their core.  What seemingly minute quirks do they enjoy?  For instance, the sight of a formal watch on a man triggers something psychological in me.  This coupled with a suit or shirt and tie will arouse me to my core.  This may seem insignificant, but I assure you, it is not.  There are many tiny details that make us who we are and define our sexual patterns.  These are what you have to determine.  Find these things that make your partner tick.  It will be a variety of sights. 

A man can floor a woman with his boyishly charming smile or the gleam in his eye when he looks at her.  I, also, love the sight of a large chest and arms on a man.  When he wears a manly pair of jeans that hug his ass and you can see the muscles through his shirt.  Not chiseled abs, but a manly, meaty, strong man.  Droplets of sweat dripping down his neck and chest after extensive physical labor…preferably wielding an axe.  (See: The Lumberjack Fantasy).  The sight of men in physical combat is also temptingly sexual for me, probably due to my attraction to alphas.  The exercising of control in the workplace is highly exciting for me and is about seeing dominance.  For each woman, it will be a bit different, as it will be with the men. 

 Some of the things that stir us will be seemingly nonsexual, however they will lead us to a primal desire for intimacy.  When a man has a fatherly nature, plays with his children and is protective. If he fixes the car or carries all the groceries.  These are all going to stir a woman to her core.  

For a man, there are many sight-related arousals to get into.  (I smile when I say that.)  Men, you are very visual, as well.  And I believe that is a good thing.  We, as women, can raise a shoulder, tilt our chin down, look up demurely and bat an eyelash…done.  Then let one strap gently slide off the shoulder.  At that point, you, as men, don’t have a chance in hell.  It is our irresistibly seductive, feminine wiles at work.  And don’t act like you don’t love it.  We can cook naked, leave panties off for the day, spread a little gloss on the lips, read a book wearing just his shirt, etc.  For some men, it will be a woman in a baseball cap, for others it will be when she wears an apron, or thigh highs and heels.  It is seemingly small things we don’t always consider, that make a big difference.  It can be easy to get into a monotonous daily pattern where we tend to forget about the details of real life and its greatest pleasures. 

There are also many things unrelated to his/her person that can be stirring.  For me, even the female body will arouse.  I think women are strong and beautiful, which is titillating.  What about if you’re walking in a beautiful spot with the sun streaming through the trees?  Or a romantic walk along the beach?  It makes me want to explore that moment intimately.  Small town bars and even those sexy restrooms where there is an attendant will arouse me.  (But I have a hankering for sex in public places…)  

Leading up to sex, many things should have already occurred to be the foreplay. During sex, there are several sights to incorporate and enhance the experience.  For instance, I like the ambiance of a room with low lighting and candles, a four poster bed (for the bondage, of course), and a thunderous look in his eye.  There are ways to set up a scene or fantasy that will satisfy each other.  Maybe he likes the naughty school girl look, so you dress the part and buy him a paddle.  Maybe she wants a very sexy fireman to make her squirt from her deep spot.  But both have to give and take.  

The need for us as individuals and couples to introspect and find our predominant sexual cravings is of the greatest importance to keeping a healthy relationship.  They are fundamentally true and will never relent. To repress our own needs will lead to greater issues.  And to ignore your partner’s sensual needs will result in either a parting or a suppression that leads to bitterness.  This is about the discovery and service of each other, resulting in a rhythmic cadence of fulfillment. 

To prey upon the thirsty yearnings of the eye, which stirs your partner at their core, will lead to an intensely erotic, passionately driven, and healthy sex life. 

To see is not even with the eyes, per se.  All of what we see is determined on how we see.  And how we see is what makes us each unique.  ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ and we each have a beauty all our own.  



Ode To Velvet Hattrick

Yes, ode to these nights.  Nights of blissful ecstasy filling each and every hole.  Dark and dirty, sensual and sexy, wet and wild.  These are the titillating nights of arousal that we, as nymphomaniacs, revel in.  Gone are those pansy evenings that pale in comparison.  Oh, to have experienced the raw and primal need of a fullness unsatisfied outside of the Velvet Hattrick.  Then to have tasted the sweat from its lustful and stormy passion on a dark and stimulating night of this sexual fantasy.  Those of us who have felt this sexual urge to those who have participated, recommend a rendezvous with your lover this evening.  For to please oneself is ultimately found in the pleasure of your lover and is to know true intimacy.  Without satisfying whom you have chosen, you cannot actually have a true relationship.  And their fantasies become your fantasies in a deeply passionate, soul meets soul collision.
It goes without saying that your man will deeply appreciate this from you, as a woman.  For his need to own and his primal urge to receive from you and take will both be satisfied in a night like these.  These are those that he will remember forever.  These nights you can give to him, surrender to him and be filled to the fullest in your own desire to be his completely.  

Velvet Hattrick is about ownership and dominance, surrender and trust.  It is about the desire to leave nothing untouched, nothing wasted, nothing virgin, and nothing left orphaned.  All is taken and all is filled; all is protected and all is held dear.  A yielding to entrust him with every part of you. With this comes a security, a knowledge that no longer is a part missing or unprotected.  Not to be diminished, this is a soulical act and if truly given by a woman, for to take should only be gifted by the giver, then both will be pleasured and both will be filled. 

A night to remember, this is la crème de la crème of erotica.
 For a woman, to offer all of yourself to your lover, holding nothing back, nothing is left and nothing is alone. All of who you are and all of what you can give, is laid at his feet in love.  And for a man, to take up all of what is yours, to receive her in a passionate act, to hold dear what she has given and never take for granted that which she has surrendered.

Yes, the alluring and racy Velvet Hattrick, the ultimately sexy, three-course penetration.  An ardent and fiercely erotic night where every hole is breathtakingly filled and intensely devoured.  Orally, vaginally, and anally.  La crème de la crème…c’est magnifique.



Here’s To Lying In Rainstorms

There is just something about the way life gets away from you that is despairingly tragic.

  There used to be days you’d stay awake too late just to see the full moon or pause to watch and wonder at a starry night sky.  Many times you chose the less beaten path, walking to find a securely hidden spot just to be alone and think.  Moments of inspiration and motivation came and turned into hours spent merely out of spontaneity due to a sight too beautiful to leave.  The crickets and frogs harmonizing, those rivers that beautifully gurgle and weave around carefully placed rocks, and the songs of birds, all beckoning more time from you to listen to their joined musical number.  The way the light glitters on top of freshly fallen, virgin snow on a brisk, cold morning, chimneys releasing their billows of smoke, the boldness of the red of a cardinal in such a gorgeous display of stark contrast to the white snow, these used to make you stop and love that you were still here to live and breathe the beauty that is all around.  The way you can see for miles and miles in the desert and watch the most beautiful show of the setting sun, kaleidoscopic in it’s magical beauty.  Sighing in glorious contentment, you’d sit in front of a fireplace all evening, with an old book and a warm drink, as the rain patters against the windows.

Can you remember how a ray of the setting sun would illuminate the bugs and summer dust and the last vestiges from a recently mowed lawn?  Maybe the scent of the leather from a worn saddle in the horse barn?  I still longingly stop in my tracks when I smell tractor grease in an old dirt floor barn…just to remember my grandfather.  In early dawn, after the gentle falling of a soft, powdery snowfall, each branch has been completely covered and it’s so surreal…like a wonderland.  Or in the climax of Summer, to pause and allow the breeze to blow the perfume of the lilacs so gently to me as I walk past…almost as if they know me and the joy they bring.  The smell of an old book, the taste of a good, strong cup of coffee,  the unforgettable waft of warm, fresh homemade bread…all meant to stir your emotions, your heart to remember and to feel.  Do you remember what it’s like to feel?

 Because what do we have if we don’t have our memories?  Life is made of memories and those sensual experiences are there to bring back a certain memory…good or bad.  Either way, they are your life’s loving mnemonic promptings and such a tragedy when ignored.  They remind you that to be alive is not to be taken for granted…but to be embraced for ALL it has to offer.  Many are no longer here to love, to cry, to breathe, to laugh…to feel.  The beauty of living and the experience of life can and will be passed by today, but hopefully not by us.

Do you still have that remembrance that brings back that scent in your nose of banana bread or chocolate chip cookies baking as you walk in the door?  Anytime I catch the whiff of cut wood I feel the need to get closer…to extract every scent molecule I can and try to take them with me.  We’ve all experienced that unforgettable and unique smell of a contented and satisfied, previously thirsty land after it’s being granted the sustenance of a steady rainfall.  It used to be that when simply the right song drifted to your ear, you seemed to travel back in time to the sole memory it conjured up and relive every emotion.  Where did the love for these experiences escape to?  Why is your desire to learn and love and live so far removed from where you are now?  What happened to experiencing life?

 I’ve sat and watched a bug to see where it would go.  I’ve knelt and encouraged tiny basil plants to grow. I’ve fell in love with the crackling, dancing, and smells of a campfire in the still of the night. I’ve set an old record on to play and realized a lost art…for the enchanting charm of music from a record cannot be matched.  I’ve lost all sense of time and paused to reflect on a beautiful ray of sun descending onto the water and marveled at Monet’s ability to capture it so perfectly.  I’ve had my heart catch in my the sight of a sunset.  I’ve sat in an old rocking chair, simply delighted to hear the petite chirping of a black-capped chickadee and watched it search winter’s harsh and selfish climate, in such a relentless way, just to find a bit of nourishment. I relish in the beauty of the tiny flowers of the trees that turn to buds, the darling little love songs the birds sing to each other as they search and plot and compete to find a mate, the impatience of the daffodil and tulip bulbs sprouting prematurely; all of these in cyclical unison to the annual melody of Spring.

I’ve been in a hurry to go nowhere fast and remembered what life is ACTUALLY about and paused..and just listen.  I reminded myself that this has all been here longer than me and my important life, and it will be here after I am long gone.  Oh, to be that again…to be that of a silence..not of resignation..not of failure…but of hope, experience, love, and life.

Remember when the laughter of a child could make your heart almost ache for love of the sound?  When their smile would make you stop and just gaze in enjoyment, relishing the moment, wishing it to never pass?  Sometimes you would do that one specific gesture just to feel the goodness that reminded you of humanity’s love…of your love.  There were times you experienced such joy merely feeling the touch of a lover’s hand.  Their scent being your solace, comfort, ecstasy, and peace and you long to breathe them in forever.  When just a kiss can melt your every inhibition and leave a taste so divine, you could never forget it…

I’m asking you to live again.  I’m pleading with you to experience life again; the real life that can be had if you stop and look.  Feel again, see again, touch again, hear again, taste again, smell again…. 

Breathe again…

Go experience life, please.  Do everything you desire to do.  Stop missing the point of why we have five senses and the sensual adventure we must journey.  Slow down and savor a delicious meal.  Take your lover on a drive and park, just to sit and watch the sun set.  Find a spot of cool grass in the shade of an old tree, and take off your shoes to feel its chill.  Open your eyes, open your ears, and open your heart again to enjoy this earth for the very brief time you have here.

Most of all… don’t forget to lie in a rainstorm.



To Squirt Is To Breathe

Don’t even get me started on the stupidity that is so vastly available on this subject.  For starters, if you have never squirted, please refrain from speaking or writing on the subject…duh.  Wow, there’s even writers who advise to not allow your man to make you squirt due to having issues later with your bladder control.  (No, you won’t have bladder control issues if you do your kegels, like a good girl.)  For the love of sex, who gave these people a pen?!  
So, I will be speaking from an experienced position, as I squirt almost daily.  First of all, no, squirt is NOT urine.  We can trace it’s phenomenon all the way back to Roman times by a prominent physician named Galen, who wrote that it was, “a thin fluid that manifestly flows when they (women) experience the greatest pleasure in coitus.”  The Kama Sutra even mentions this female ejaculation.  All the way up until the 1980’s, most assumed it was, indeed, urine. Latest research has revealed that it is, in fact, almost IDENTICAL to male semen, minus the sperm.  If you have ever squirted or made a woman squirt, then you know the fluid that is secreted doesn’t smell, taste, or look like urine.  It does have urea and creatinine which are found in urine, however, in female ejaculation, these make up the lesser amount.  It is also proven to contain high levels of hormones in addition to many other components to debunk this myth of it’s identity.

How can we learn to enjoy this, “greatest act of coitus”?  It can be a bit of a journey.  So let’s discuss first the reason we, as women, should ALL be squirting.  After all, I did liken it to breathing.  I can say with complete and utter conviction that to squirt is to breathe.  I cannot imagine sex without it and I wouldn’t want to.  It has definitely become a necessity now, rather than an additional act.  Bottom line: I’m addicted.  If I go even one day without it, my demeanor changes.  If two or more days pass, you’ll want to back away slowly keeping an eye out for any sudden movement on my part.  I become the enemy to your happiness at that point, the black to your pearly white, the bursting to your optimistic bubble.  Don’t mess with me if I haven’t squirted…you will go down.

 I can squirt once, but this is not satisfying.  What I need is several times and have even squirted 30 times in one session.  The longer I go in-between sessions, the more this hormonally charged liquid seems to accumulate.  It can seem like ages, eons, light eternity…and it’s only been a couple days.  I have had it pour out and also, forcefully squirt out, hitting his chest and the wall behind him.  Many women say they release anywhere from a capful to a cup; I tend to release more the equivalent of up to several cups.  (Yes, invest in a mattress cover, several towels, or a whole bunch of sham-wows, as my husband would say.)   

During the Victorian era, women were known to have what they termed, “hysteria”.  This is what we now know, to be sexually frustrated.  Symptoms included (and still include): headaches, irritability, depression, confusion, insomnia, upset stomach, weepiness (hilarious, I will cry for no reason whatsoever…), muscle spasms, forgetfulness, lassitude, and palpitations of the heart.  Sound familiar, ladies??  I have a few symptoms to add…like, anger, frustration, moodiness…even the feeling of carrying extra weight.  I feel very centered if I squirt regularly, as if all is well with the world.  The after-effects differ from a clitoral orgasm or even a vaginal orgasm, in that, the result is the complete and utter satisfaction and fulfillment of a spent orgasmic session.  I feel as if I was emptied, if you will.  That the built-up frustrations have been completely drained from me and I can just be…without all the added life issues. 

I was led into squirting by my husband, who worked steadily to gain my trust in this area.  Believe it or not, trust is very important and is a major issue in learning to ejaculate to this degree.  For myself, it was a small journey that I didn’t know I would have to experience.  It was a series of feeling like I was needing to urinate and learning to let go and these were both obstacles for me to get over.  I had to learn the difference in the feeling of squirting vs. urinating.  This is about trusting who you’re with and following him.  He knew what it was, while I was nervous and self-conscious.  So, as I let go, I started to know and trust the difference.  

It was a struggle to be able to relax enough for this fluid to flow easily.  If you are not relaxed, this will take longer.  We want more times squirting, not more time needed to squirt once.  Got it?  This is his job, to help ready you and your body for the release.  There are a few things that work for me, personally.  Bubble baths, wine, sun, dinner out, a nice walk, a sexy massage by a hot masseuse…anything you know that will relax you.  (This is why women need pampered and treated like a princess…IF you want her to squirt…she needs to be free from anxiety and stress.) This is vital to the woman being free to release.  She must be able to let go and trust you.  

Remember, there are many orgasms, all of which differ tremendously.  To squirt from an anal orgasm is great, the G-spot is wonderful; I prefer to squirt from the deep spot or the G-spot and deep spot, alternately.  Although, all of these feel unique and amazing.  To orgasm from any of these places is obviously fabulous, but to squirt from the orgasm is adding 150% more to your already heightened experience.  Also, if I squirt while he is in me, it is amazing, yet different than the complete release of this built-up hormonal fluid, by itself.  So, if it’s been a couple days we will make sure to allow the full release via his fingers, first.  

Is this female ejaculation important?  Yes.  Is it important enough to warrant my title?  Yes, ladies, it is.  It has been termed: the greatest pleasure a woman can experience sexually.

So, get out there and squirt.  For you, for me, and for the rest of those that have to be around your hysteria stricken ass all day…



P.S. Always go potty first, for the peace of mind you need to be free to release completely. 😘

The Ghost Of Him

He stands at the ready.  Strong, immovable force is he.  No task too difficult.  No problem will go unsolved.   No climb too steep; no descent too treacherous. There can be trust had in this man.  She can follow with comfort and ease.  Her apprehension is dissolved slowly, yet it does dissolve.  She is willing to let him in.  She believes she can trust him and in her hesitation before she indeed allows his access to her heart, she tells herself this time, it is real.  She is nervous, yet excited to finally yield to someone stronger.  She tells her heart, he must be…he has to be.  Her body, her mind, her heart say it is, indeed, time.  It is time to let go and give herself over to him completely.  So, she does.

Then he is gone.

No, this isn’t about his cheating.  This isn’t even about his leaving.  Though he may have played these roles; this is about who he is.  He has gone.  Gone from who he said he was and gone from who he promised to be.  His words came and went.  Alas, the promises that were given gave her hope that developed into full confidence, only to now see they were never real to him.  Maybe they were real and he failed himself.  Maybe he tried to not only convince her but even more so, convince himself.  Whatever the reason, promises broken and confidence taken; he is gone.  He still physically inhabits the relationship, but he is a shell, a mere ghost of himself.  He is now unrecognizable to her. 

They live side by side, going through the motions necessary for the relationship.  They are together, yet they are not.  The monotonous daily routine seems to fill the void left by their brokenness.  They display a strong and joyful relationship in the midst of others, but their hearts are not in it.  He, knowing he has failed.  She, broken and bleeding.  They are two separate where once they had been one.  They are tragically stuck in an unmoving whirlwind, unfairly put upon them by society’s unspoken rules.  Awaking every morning, they know what is expected of them and they acquiesce.  For, what would the children do if they knew?  How would the family react if privy to their marital conditions?  Friends would be disappointed and possibly judgmental.  So, knowing this, they endure.  Each trapped in their thoughts; they succeed a little more each day to bury what they so need and crave.  Almost perfectly, they learn to settle for what has become their normal.  At times, at distinct times, they fail and yearnings of the heart surface.  These moments are those that test your resolve for conformity.  These are those clawing, relentless moments that tear you from the inside.  You cannot hide from them.  They will always strive to be heard, because they are you.

 This charade will continue unless acted upon.  Something must give or nothing will change.  Where this road has taken them is not where they had planned to be and the end point of this journey is a sad and bitter closing of what could have been.  What could have been or what will be is up to them.  Whether they have the courage to reject adherence to an oppressive set of moral standards is the key.  Will they persist in their tiresome and unchanging routine?  Or will one of them do what he or she needs to do in order to turn the tide and change the course?

This seemingly immovable force of ethical willpower can indeed be broken.  They must see this fact, or the droning circumstances, all too familiar, will never change.  This awkward, sorrowful life is not worth living.  For who are they, but sad and pitiful memoirs of lives that were once worth fighting for.  Dreams they had that seemed to be at their fingertips, now..seem to have always been either a distraction from reality or simply delusion.  Where do they go from here?  

He, in his lack of confidence and feelings of failure, must break himself out of this fatalistic stupor.  He must do what is vitally necessary to make himself a man of his word.  He cannot be perfect, but he must always know and prove she is worth his every effort to try.  He can be who he wants to be….IF he truly desires it.  He must not give up on her or who they are together.  His all is required of him and even more so.  If he has the courage…

She will need time.  She will need patience.  She is now a hodgepodge of hastily self-built, yet soundly impenetrable series of walls.  Her hurt is deep and her wounds severe.  She has convinced herself to never…trust…again.  Her yearning to let go has been silenced forever by the weight of the pressing distrust and bitterness.  Her desire for more was deafened and deadened by her own hand.  She has made vows to herself…again.  How could she have let down her guard once more?  She asks herself this until the void and darkness of the answer becomes the answer itself.

He has his work cut out for him.  No one said it would be easy.  Yet, is she worth it?  Are they worth it?  Maybe not. Maybe the humdrum of a surburbian picket fence fallacy of a marriage is good enough.  Maybe they’ll settle for this grandiosely virtuous half-life.  Maybe he will allow himself to sink deeper into this dimmed, phantasmal figure that barely outlines who he once was.

He doesn’t have to…he could come back.  He could save them…