It only occurred to me this evening that it's my Blogaversary. Two years ago I made a rushed, late evening post as the introduction to my new blog, much like I'm making this post. *grins* It wasn't even original content. I copied and pasted the meme from someone else's blog.
Have a look for yourself.
I miss that time in my life. My sexual reawakening and kinky discoveries were shiny and new. There were sexual possibilities available to me that have now been politely cleared from the table. On the other hand, I've participated in some activities that I could not have foreseen. Some with, some without the company of my husband. I plan on exploring those adventure here. There have been some changes for Freya since we last talked.
I was curious to look over my originally posted Sexual Bucket List and see if I can check any new items off. Good news! I have 2 answers to change from a no to a yes, and one amendment to make.
5. Have phone sex dirty talk, but not full on w/touching I can proudly say yes I've had phone sex. Twice!
37. Sexual role play not really. With the help of a creative and imaginative friend, I was able to step outside of myself for one scene and the mind fuck was pretty amazing.
And I was pleasantly surprised to change my mind about :
36. Using ice sexually oh yeah! that's a good story.......(for the record, I
don't like cold sex)
You can read about why I wasn't a fan of ice here. Well, after a particular blackout at the end of last July during a heat wave so hot that it made sleep nearly impossible...ice and sex are forever linked in my memory, putting a smile on my face.
You know what? Perhaps I should dust off the memory and write about it!
Happy Valentine's Day to all of you. And if you find yourself alone today do what I recommended to a very close friend : Laugh. Smile. And love yourself.
But know at least that I love you, too. Thanks for sticking around. See ya soon!
*kisses*
Showing posts with label Valentine's Day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Valentine's Day. Show all posts
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Monday, February 13, 2012
Love Bug
The actual day that Valentine's falls on this year is little more than afterthought to those who would celebrate it. Sure, there will still be cards passed and boxes of chocolate left to be discovered, and many couples will be turning down the sheets earlier than usual. But the weekend is the best time to celebrate when the holiday falls mid-week. Bigger plans can be made. Relaxed dinners without the stress of a work day. Late night out. More drinks. Possibly even sneaking away for the entire weekend, should you find yourself that lucky.
I made it clear that I hoped for a repeat of last year. Simple really. Hotel room. Jacuzzi bath. Me. Him. Accessories. And lots and lots of loud, fun, deviant sex.
As far as our kids were concerned we were going to be spending the evening in the city dining at an upscale restaurant and staying the night because we didn't want to drink and drive. In reality we were going to be 10 minutes away shacking up and getting down and dirty. Just how I wanted it, too. *sigh.......* It was not to be.
Wisely, I did a quick verbal check-in last week to mention our Valentine's plans. I was leaving the planning to him and I was getting nervous because 1.) he's terrible at any combo of remembering/planning and 2.) I needed these plans to happen like you wouldn't believe, so forgetting was NOT an option. When he stuttered his response about thinking that Valentine's weekend was the following weekend, my high hopes lost their footing for a minute. I regrouped, corrected his misunderstanding, and did the thing I do where I begin calculating the odds of things working out how I'd imagined. Odds were still in my favor. Until Friday.
Our dog has nothing on me when it comes to being alerted by the sounds of someone approaching. I can tell who's in the driveway based on the engine, and I know exactly who is going to walk in the door based solely on the jingle and scrape of their keys as they attempt entry. Imagine my surprise, concern, dismay, and even more concern when I hear Od's keys shortly after lunchtime. He should not be home. Before I can find him I hear the bathroom door being slammed shut. "This is probably not good" I think to myself. And when I see him emerge wearing only half his clothes, a sheen of sweat, and a green complexion as he walks right past me to the kitchen for a glass of water before he heads right back to the bathroom and slams the door again I know for sure my weekend plans went right down the shitter. Along with Od's lunch. And breakfast. And whatever else he'd eaten in the last week, apparently. I mutter an all encompassing "fuuuuuu-uck", then resign myself to new plans. Good thing that room hadn't been booked after all.
I get him squared away in the bedroom, then begin my weekend long damage control. I text daughter to NOT let her boyfriend get dropped off at our house, then promise to make it up to her later. I run errands to the bank, the grocery, and the library after warning the kiddos to save themselves and avoid their dad and that particular bathroom. Upon asking for help with the groceries, daughter informs me she doesn't feel well. This could be due to a myriad of things : she drank too much chocolate milk, has cramps, is tired, would rather avoid having to actually be helpful, or......really doesn't feel well. After grumbling through the grocery unloading with the forced labor of my other teenager I soon found out. She really didn't feel well.
Patient #2 required a bit more hand holding and coddling than the first. While I discouraged her from showering and taking up valuable bathroom time (I was trying to keep things quarantined and one speck of vomit in the hair does not constitute needing a shower) I noticed her phone on the sink. It was on. Puking your guts out does not mandate a need to abandon a conversation, it seems. I took a moment to discuss the inappropriateness of phones in the bathroom - EVER - to her. The things that poor boy must have heard over the phone.
I quickly moved on from silently lamenting my lack of sexy weekend plans and went into self defense mode. I battened down in the t.v. room with my laptop, some DVDs, and snacks. I would have slept in there if sleep was possible on the lumpy beast that serves as our couch. I held off until 4 a.m. before I cautiously crawled into bed fully clothed and facing away from Od.
Lysol wipes, Oust, and Clorox were my best friends this past weekend. My only Valentine action so far was Sunday, playing chaperone to my daughter and her boyfriend as I took them out to eat and to the movies to make up for their lost plans on Friday. Daughter snapped back to health like only kids can while Od is still suffering and hanging onto his intestinal misery like only he can.
Late last night I was weighing the odds again in my head of maybe attempting some semblance of a date on Tuesday night if Od feels any better by then. Any crazy, hot, hotel sex will have to wait for next weekend at the earliest. As I lay in bed and mentally prepped myself for the Monday task of sanitizing the entire house I heard the bathroom door slam down the hall. Patient #3. The kid whose own doctor wouldn't even know him because it's been so long since he's been sick is now sick. Violently. In the bathroom. All night.
It's now Monday and all signs are still good from me. I know I'm probably cursing myself for even typing that sentence. There's probably multiplication and mutation of unwelcome varieties going on inside me right now. Time will tell. I hope I make it out alive.
I made it clear that I hoped for a repeat of last year. Simple really. Hotel room. Jacuzzi bath. Me. Him. Accessories. And lots and lots of loud, fun, deviant sex.
As far as our kids were concerned we were going to be spending the evening in the city dining at an upscale restaurant and staying the night because we didn't want to drink and drive. In reality we were going to be 10 minutes away shacking up and getting down and dirty. Just how I wanted it, too. *sigh.......* It was not to be.
Wisely, I did a quick verbal check-in last week to mention our Valentine's plans. I was leaving the planning to him and I was getting nervous because 1.) he's terrible at any combo of remembering/planning and 2.) I needed these plans to happen like you wouldn't believe, so forgetting was NOT an option. When he stuttered his response about thinking that Valentine's weekend was the following weekend, my high hopes lost their footing for a minute. I regrouped, corrected his misunderstanding, and did the thing I do where I begin calculating the odds of things working out how I'd imagined. Odds were still in my favor. Until Friday.
Our dog has nothing on me when it comes to being alerted by the sounds of someone approaching. I can tell who's in the driveway based on the engine, and I know exactly who is going to walk in the door based solely on the jingle and scrape of their keys as they attempt entry. Imagine my surprise, concern, dismay, and even more concern when I hear Od's keys shortly after lunchtime. He should not be home. Before I can find him I hear the bathroom door being slammed shut. "This is probably not good" I think to myself. And when I see him emerge wearing only half his clothes, a sheen of sweat, and a green complexion as he walks right past me to the kitchen for a glass of water before he heads right back to the bathroom and slams the door again I know for sure my weekend plans went right down the shitter. Along with Od's lunch. And breakfast. And whatever else he'd eaten in the last week, apparently. I mutter an all encompassing "fuuuuuu-uck", then resign myself to new plans. Good thing that room hadn't been booked after all.
I get him squared away in the bedroom, then begin my weekend long damage control. I text daughter to NOT let her boyfriend get dropped off at our house, then promise to make it up to her later. I run errands to the bank, the grocery, and the library after warning the kiddos to save themselves and avoid their dad and that particular bathroom. Upon asking for help with the groceries, daughter informs me she doesn't feel well. This could be due to a myriad of things : she drank too much chocolate milk, has cramps, is tired, would rather avoid having to actually be helpful, or......really doesn't feel well. After grumbling through the grocery unloading with the forced labor of my other teenager I soon found out. She really didn't feel well.
Patient #2 required a bit more hand holding and coddling than the first. While I discouraged her from showering and taking up valuable bathroom time (I was trying to keep things quarantined and one speck of vomit in the hair does not constitute needing a shower) I noticed her phone on the sink. It was on. Puking your guts out does not mandate a need to abandon a conversation, it seems. I took a moment to discuss the inappropriateness of phones in the bathroom - EVER - to her. The things that poor boy must have heard over the phone.
I quickly moved on from silently lamenting my lack of sexy weekend plans and went into self defense mode. I battened down in the t.v. room with my laptop, some DVDs, and snacks. I would have slept in there if sleep was possible on the lumpy beast that serves as our couch. I held off until 4 a.m. before I cautiously crawled into bed fully clothed and facing away from Od.
Lysol wipes, Oust, and Clorox were my best friends this past weekend. My only Valentine action so far was Sunday, playing chaperone to my daughter and her boyfriend as I took them out to eat and to the movies to make up for their lost plans on Friday. Daughter snapped back to health like only kids can while Od is still suffering and hanging onto his intestinal misery like only he can.
Late last night I was weighing the odds again in my head of maybe attempting some semblance of a date on Tuesday night if Od feels any better by then. Any crazy, hot, hotel sex will have to wait for next weekend at the earliest. As I lay in bed and mentally prepped myself for the Monday task of sanitizing the entire house I heard the bathroom door slam down the hall. Patient #3. The kid whose own doctor wouldn't even know him because it's been so long since he's been sick is now sick. Violently. In the bathroom. All night.
It's now Monday and all signs are still good from me. I know I'm probably cursing myself for even typing that sentence. There's probably multiplication and mutation of unwelcome varieties going on inside me right now. Time will tell. I hope I make it out alive.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Valentine's revisited
I'm not one to turn down a thoughtful gift. But I don't want a gift to be mandatory, either. That's why when things weren't so good (really fucking awful) between Od and I, we didn't celebrate.
He'd ask what I wanted for my birthday - I said "Don't bother". I spent one anniversary at an evening work meeting, barely having seen him all day. Another anniversary was spent with the husband of a good friend. (taking our kids to a school function) Christmas was all about the kids, and Valentine's Day? Well......I spent that day either mourning our lost love, feeling sorry for myself, being pissed about feeling sorry for myself, or just pissed at him for sucking the joy out of my life.
So last February I felt the need to celebrate. It had been almost a month since we rekindled our romance. We were still in the unsure, where is this going? stage of our new happiness. Hell, I wasn't sure if it was happiness or just a fluke. Od's not known for his follow-through when he begins anything new. I was sort of holding my breath waiting for the backslide in effort, the disappointment, and the failure. We'd talked very little about why we let our relationship fail for so long, and why we shut each other out. (not that we didn't already know) We had a fleeting conversation once that was too raw and left him feeling guilty and on the verge of shutting down and left me on the verge of tears remembering years worth of neglect. It was time to focus on us now, not us then.
Valentine's day provided the opportunity to just go for it. I began scheming. I planned to ship the kids to their grandparents for the night so we could have the house to ourselves. A nice dinner out, a movie, and then he could unwrap his present - me. I bought a new outfit that included a red bra/panty set and a sweater that had a silky ribbon belt that tied in a bow, so he could actually unwrap me before he got to the other goodies!
It was a fun night, but what I was super excited about was what he had promised to do for me for Valentine's Day. Something he'd never done. A thing that I had never experienced with him. I was giddy all night talking about it, asking him "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I told you I would, and I will." he said calmly and convincingly.
"I don't want you to regret it." I gave him every out that I could manage. Really, I was skeptical that he'd go through with it and I was fishing for reassurance. He'd never agreed to such a drastic thing so easily before. I'd wondered about it for years, looking at certain other men and fantasizing.........
After we arrived back home and it seemed like I was going to get this thing I had wanted for years, and my curiosity was so close to being satisfied...............I got nervous. I began second guessing myself. What if I regretted it? Didn't like it? How would that make him feel?
He was the one that took control of the situation. "Let me get changed. I don't want to get anything on my clothes."
"No. Don't. I want to see you do it in that shirt. I like it on you. Roll the sleeves up." I have a serious fetish for men's forearms, wrists, and hands. Especially in rolled up shirtsleeves. It helps that Od rocks some pretty awesome manfur. You know that area where the hair brushes down into a line on the side of the forearm? Like a happy trail? Oh my god. And happy trails are another thing altogether. What can I say? We all have our triggers.
Anyway, I hung out in the hallway like a predatory lioness stalking my prey as he paced from the bathroom to the bedroom getting ready. The anticipaton was building. The widening grin on my face was unstoppable.
"Okay. I'm ready." he called out to me.
I stepped into the room, locking eyes with him and we smiled at each other. I reached up to grab the back of his hair, pulling him down for a deep kiss. He started laughing and pulled away.
"You're really happy about this aren't you?"
"Mm hm." I confessed, still grinning.
"Do you want to go first?" he asked.
"Can I?" I didn't expect the offer. He nodded his head while reaching behind me.
"You'll need these." Od handed me the supplies. I was comfortable using them on myself. But him? I could hurt him or do it the wrong way.
"You're sure?" I asked for the umpteenth time. I was maybe stalling a little bit.
He breathed a sigh at me, not wanting to be impatient. "Yes" he stressed.
With that one word he stepped forward, reached down to grab my ass and lifted me onto the bathroom vanity. I opened my legs to allow him access. With him nestled in I took the first of my supplies and turned it on. It jumped to life with a familiar buzz. I pressed it against him, moving it back and forth, working him over. Then I flipped the cap off another item and squirted a generous amount of gel into my hand, spreading it where I knew he needed it most. Then finally, finally I did the thing I'd wanted for so long..............
As he held very still (probably praying I didn't hurt him), I shaved off all of his facial hair. Goatee? Gone. Mustache? All gone. For the first time ever I was looking at him. Just him.
I felt like I was in the room with a strange man. I was seeing him, but having a hard time combining the new image with the old image. It was a mindfuck. He's just one of those people that is completely transformed with the addition/subtraction of facial hair. After we looked and laughed and looked some more, it was time to get down to the practical side of the evening. I wanted to kiss his clean-shaved, smooth face. And I did. I kissed and kissed and kissed. Then I kissed some more. I could not stop. If all we did that night was kiss, it would still have been fantastic.
Turns out we did a little more than kiss. There was one more place I wanted to experience that unmustachioed mouth...............
He'd ask what I wanted for my birthday - I said "Don't bother". I spent one anniversary at an evening work meeting, barely having seen him all day. Another anniversary was spent with the husband of a good friend. (taking our kids to a school function) Christmas was all about the kids, and Valentine's Day? Well......I spent that day either mourning our lost love, feeling sorry for myself, being pissed about feeling sorry for myself, or just pissed at him for sucking the joy out of my life.
So last February I felt the need to celebrate. It had been almost a month since we rekindled our romance. We were still in the unsure, where is this going? stage of our new happiness. Hell, I wasn't sure if it was happiness or just a fluke. Od's not known for his follow-through when he begins anything new. I was sort of holding my breath waiting for the backslide in effort, the disappointment, and the failure. We'd talked very little about why we let our relationship fail for so long, and why we shut each other out. (not that we didn't already know) We had a fleeting conversation once that was too raw and left him feeling guilty and on the verge of shutting down and left me on the verge of tears remembering years worth of neglect. It was time to focus on us now, not us then.
Valentine's day provided the opportunity to just go for it. I began scheming. I planned to ship the kids to their grandparents for the night so we could have the house to ourselves. A nice dinner out, a movie, and then he could unwrap his present - me. I bought a new outfit that included a red bra/panty set and a sweater that had a silky ribbon belt that tied in a bow, so he could actually unwrap me before he got to the other goodies!
It was a fun night, but what I was super excited about was what he had promised to do for me for Valentine's Day. Something he'd never done. A thing that I had never experienced with him. I was giddy all night talking about it, asking him "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I told you I would, and I will." he said calmly and convincingly.
"I don't want you to regret it." I gave him every out that I could manage. Really, I was skeptical that he'd go through with it and I was fishing for reassurance. He'd never agreed to such a drastic thing so easily before. I'd wondered about it for years, looking at certain other men and fantasizing.........
After we arrived back home and it seemed like I was going to get this thing I had wanted for years, and my curiosity was so close to being satisfied...............I got nervous. I began second guessing myself. What if I regretted it? Didn't like it? How would that make him feel?
He was the one that took control of the situation. "Let me get changed. I don't want to get anything on my clothes."
"No. Don't. I want to see you do it in that shirt. I like it on you. Roll the sleeves up." I have a serious fetish for men's forearms, wrists, and hands. Especially in rolled up shirtsleeves. It helps that Od rocks some pretty awesome manfur. You know that area where the hair brushes down into a line on the side of the forearm? Like a happy trail? Oh my god. And happy trails are another thing altogether. What can I say? We all have our triggers.
Anyway, I hung out in the hallway like a predatory lioness stalking my prey as he paced from the bathroom to the bedroom getting ready. The anticipaton was building. The widening grin on my face was unstoppable.
"Okay. I'm ready." he called out to me.
I stepped into the room, locking eyes with him and we smiled at each other. I reached up to grab the back of his hair, pulling him down for a deep kiss. He started laughing and pulled away.
"You're really happy about this aren't you?"
"Mm hm." I confessed, still grinning.
"Do you want to go first?" he asked.
"Can I?" I didn't expect the offer. He nodded his head while reaching behind me.
"You'll need these." Od handed me the supplies. I was comfortable using them on myself. But him? I could hurt him or do it the wrong way.
"You're sure?" I asked for the umpteenth time. I was maybe stalling a little bit.
He breathed a sigh at me, not wanting to be impatient. "Yes" he stressed.
With that one word he stepped forward, reached down to grab my ass and lifted me onto the bathroom vanity. I opened my legs to allow him access. With him nestled in I took the first of my supplies and turned it on. It jumped to life with a familiar buzz. I pressed it against him, moving it back and forth, working him over. Then I flipped the cap off another item and squirted a generous amount of gel into my hand, spreading it where I knew he needed it most. Then finally, finally I did the thing I'd wanted for so long..............
As he held very still (probably praying I didn't hurt him), I shaved off all of his facial hair. Goatee? Gone. Mustache? All gone. For the first time ever I was looking at him. Just him.
Turns out we did a little more than kiss. There was one more place I wanted to experience that unmustachioed mouth...............
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