Another ”Eeeeew” Moment

F.C. has a birthday coming up. As we sat down at supper last night, Heather asked me if I had any particular wishes as regards birthday presents.

“How about a years’ supply of blowjobs?” I replied, without even thinking.

“I was thinking of presents from my family” She said. “Do you really want my mother to give those to you?”

Quite put me off my food.

The long way home.

She lies back on the bed, propped up on her elbows and with her feet on the floor. I am kneeling down between her knees and surveying the scene before me: The labia, which are tantalizingly parted to reveal the moistness within, the enticing rim of pubic hair, the breasts lying side by side as if in repose; not firm, pert and girlish breasts but the breasts of a real woman, breasts that show the signs of having suckled, given comfort and even life itself, and all the more alluring for that.

The scent of her captivates me and draws me in. I lay my head on her springy pubic hair, probe my tongue into her sweet cleft and curl it around her clit. Inhaling deeply and getting euphoric from her heady musk, I close my eyes so as to intensify the remaining senses...

STOP! Closing your eyes, even for a split second, when you're driving on the autobahn at 160 km per hour Is not a specially good idea. We were 8 hours into our 12 hour journey home across France, Belgium, Holland, Germany and at last Denmark after our annual two weeks of freedom.

It was a good holiday, during which we had clocked up some 2800 miles of driving (about the distance from Seattle to Miami for our American friends). We had a lot of fun and visited a whole lot of family and friends, had some great days out, drank a load of beer (and cider), and managed to max out most of our credit cards.

But what of sex? Well, not easy when staying with friends and with daughter in tow, but we had our moments and the very fact that we had to grab a quick shag when the opportunity presented itself lent an added piquancy to the proceedings.

However, we were pretty sex-starved by the time we started for home and the thought of what we were going to do when we finally saw our bed was what kept me going through the battlefield that is the Belgian motorway network and the monsoon-like rain through the Ruhr valley. Hence the daydreaming in amongst the throngs of speeding BMWs and Mercedes.

Needless to say, however, when I finally did make it to bed, at some time after 1am, I didn't even stay awake long enough to see Heather return from the bathroom. As soon as my head touched my own familiar pillow I was away, jousting once more with high-powered German cars on endless miles of autobahn.




Another favourite place in UK . The Thames at Sunbury
(Not from this holiday, though. I haven't got round to downloading those pics yet)

e[lust] #28

Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #29 (Which will be in September, taking a short summer break)? Start with the rules and subscribe to the RSS feed and Twitter for updates and submission reminders.

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What makes me a woman? - It’s a stumper, this question. There must be something that makes me a woman. Something more than how I am perceived by others as I walk down the street. But what is the answer?

Baggage: An Inventory - Everyone brings bags with them. My goal is to carry my own bags. I’ll let people help me shed them, but I will never let them carry them. Those bags are my own to, well, own.

There's pain and then there's pain (and then there's pain) -Part of what I crave in the second type of pain is the selfish sadism of the partner who continues despite my pleas. He does it because it arouses him, and he does it because I'll endure it for him.

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What Is Gender? - Playing with dolls and preferring the color pink doesn’t make you a girl anymore than chewing on a bone makes you my dog.

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Sex Toys: Single or Partnered, there is no shame in owning them - There’s no fucking shame in owning your sexuality, in taking control of your own damn orgasm. Can you PREFER human contact and partnered sex to sex toys? Sure. You can prefer whatever the fuck you want. But don’t insinuate to me that owning a lot of sex toys is somehow bad or shameful.

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Blog Design 101: Balancing Personal Style vs Readability
A Cautionary Word on Joining Affiliate Programs

Kink & Fetish

BDSM Day, an international recognition
BDSM Advice Series: Bondage Tape
Being a Brat Can Hurt
Caning, energy and romance
Screw roses! I enjoy playing with Thorns...
Working Girl

Erotic Writing

A Trip to the Toy Store
Can I get into your knickers now?
Coffee Break
early afternoon
Elevator Shaft
Fogged-up Windows
Fucking Eli
FWB
I'll see you tonight...
One on One
Open By Night
Rock Out With My Cock Out
Renewed Interest
Twenty/Fifty-Three
that little fucking game changer [part I]
the weekend away - Sunday

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Death By Bondage
Hypocrite, PA-Rant!
kink labels....is there a place for me? (or someday my kink will come)
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Ask PolyAnna: Multiple partners?? Safer sex??
Are My Nipples Getting The Correct Signals?
Evolution
More Pussy Pride - The Perfect Vagina
My Take On Masculinity
Rambling Harlot: On Internet Dating and Shyness
Sex and Catholic Schools
Sex And Disability: Starting the Dialogues

Twenty Four Hours From Tulse Hill

Well, we’ve kicked out the last of the punters from the shop (not without a struggle), the clock is running, the countdown is well under way. In 24 hours from now we will be bowling down the motorways of Europe on route to Le Tunnel Sous La Manche to arrive triumphantly back in Blighty on Saturday morning. Please don’t trouble to put on a civic reception or anything. Try to keep it low-key; a little bit of bunting and a handful of children bearing flowers would be about right.

So what are we going to be doing with ourselves? Well, my baby brother has just turned 50 and we’re having a bit of a family shindig which should be fun because I heard a rumour that my wicked stepmother (who never turns up to these events) will be turning up for this one, no doubt to be treated to a withering burst of gamma-rays from my mother. Sis and I were discussing contingency plans the other night on the phone as to how to keep them apart should a cat-fight erupt.

As for the rest, there is a pretty packed schedule of family and friends, a trip up to London is a must and, of course, drink will be taken. In fact I have arranged with my dearest and oldest friend, George, that we meet up at Earls Court on the 3rd of August. Quite coincidentally the Great British Beer Festival is being held there on that very day. Funny, that.

Then there will be shopping. We need to stock up on life’s essentials: Marmite, pork pies, Wagon Wheels and Tunnock’s Caramel Wafers (which I understand are now being made larger – oh joy!) plus of course enough Twining’s Earl Grey tea to last us a year - we usually manage to empty the shelves in at least 2 supermarkets – and as much cider as we can carry in the car.

Posting over the next couple of weeks will probably be more erratic – and less erotic – than is the norm although I am keen to try and put up a post via my newly acquired smart phone while enjoying the free wifi in a Weatherspoons pub somewhere.

Maybe I'll see you, 'Somewhere in England'.




One of the places we'll definitely be visiting...beautiful, rugged Dartmoor

Jinxed!

Once upon a time it was all going so well. Son was away at college and living in student digs in the city together with his gf. Daughter was on a year-long exchange in Brazil. Heather and I were alone and all was right with the world.

Daughter came back, of course. We would probably have been upset if she hadn't. What we didn't reckon on was Son dropping out of college, thus rendering himself and gf homeless, and the both of them moving back in with us. Gf's parents had the right idea: No sooner had she moved out than they had reclaimed her bedroom and turned it into a den. there was no way they were going to surrender it again.

Even the birds do this: The parents, having fetched food to the point at which they are physically exhausted, and fed their young until they weigh more than they do themselves, then boot the fledglings unceremoniously out of the nest, never to return. With hindsight we ought to have embarked on some major building work and abolished the spare bedroom as soon as he was gone in the interests of 'Tough Love'. We ought to have been tearing out dry wall the day after we delivered the last of his stuff to his new digs, but we were probably too busy celebrating our new-found freedom. Alas for such complacency!

Then, finally, after months of uncertainty and unemployment for our first-born son, things started to go the right way. Son's gf is set to go to university after the summer vacation, they've managed to get a flat in the city that suits them perfectly, Son has a job lined up and is a lot more optimistic than I have seen him in a long time.

Daughter, meanwhile, had found herself a boyfriend in the city, and was spending more time with him than she was at home. On occasions we didn't see her for days on end. She had also managed to get herself a summer job, selling ice creams on the harbour in the little town where we have our summerhouse.

So all was right with the world. I said as much to Heather as we went out on one of our regular strolls one evening last week. It was about midnight, but the sky was still tinted with streaks of colour from the dying rays of the sun. It was warm and peaceful and we felt good. Our holiday in England was all arranged: Just us two with the kids doing their own thing and by the time we got back, Son and gf would have moved out.

As soon as I said it, I realised that I shouldn’t have. Being of a scientific background we naturally do not believe in jinxes, but we are both firm believers in Murphy’s law, as a result of bitter experience. When things are going right, it‘s usually just a brief respite before the next thing goes wrong.

We didn’t even have to wait 24 hours: The very next evening while we were relaxing after supper in front of the television, Daughter came to us in floods of tears. It was all over between her and her bf. Over the next 24 hours she had got very drunk and had a major (no, make that ‘terminal’) bust-up with her best friend, who she possibly suspected of seeing her now-ex on the side, and had to be fetched home from the neighbouring town in the early hours of the morning. She then realised there was no future for her in the ice cream distribution industry when, on account of the sudden miserable weather and bleak outlook, the owner of the kiosk phoned her and told her not to bother coming in because sales were so slack he could handle it alone.

So, with no bf, no bestie, no job and nothing to do until school starts again she has decided she is coming with us to England. OK, not a huge problem; we have the same oddball sense of humour and get on really well together, and it would be another driver able to take over on the long boring stretches, but it does call for some rearrangement and it cramps the style a bit…



OK, since starting to write this, Heather spent a merry Sunday carting Daughter off to first one hospital, then another. Suspected appendicitis was the verdict and she was kept in two nights for observation. I fetched her home today and she seems more or less herself again except that she can hardly move her arm because the inside of her elbow resembles a pincushion from all the blood tests she has had taken.

We’re all set to get out of here on Friday night. I just hope nothing else goes wrong.

HNT: Summer

Summer occurred last weekend for us. Of course, Heather was ready with the sun lounger to make the most of the sunshine and of course I was ready with my camera to capture Heather making the most of the sunshine.



Happy HNT all! Now go and visit Os for more Half Nekkid fun!

Top Tip

I got this from Daughter, who was at the blood donor centre the other day.

The nurse there gave her a ‘Give Blood’ sticker and advised her that if you stick it on your front door, you won’t be bothered by Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Result!