Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Kink Brings Us Together, But It Cannot Sustain Us

I often talk about how my kids act as cockblockers for Husband and I, often with incredibly frustrating (but hysterical) results. They curb our kink to an amazing degree.

I don't usually talk about how this can be a good thing.

When we have kinky friends over, we can't talk about kink in front of the kids. Munches, dungeons, so-and-so's-latest-picture-on-Fetlife, all of that's off the table. We are forced to contain our conversation to vanilla topics, things that are safe to talk about in front of minors.

And you know what? This is a good thing. It forces us to talk about our day-to-day lives, our thoughts on other subjects, how our families are doing, how we are. We delve into topics much more intimate and personal.

Our lives are not made up of kink. Kink is what we do, it is not who we are. "The scene" brings us together as Kinksters, but we are all of us so much more than that.

By taking the entire subject of kink off the table, we are forced to reveal other aspects of ourselves to our friends...and that is a good thing, because real friendship cannot exist solely on kink. There has to be more there.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

We're a Bunch of Sickos

My summer is not off to a good start. I have two kids sick at home; one is missing the last few days of his school year. I have to go over to his school sometime today or tomorrow and pick up his stuff.

How do I explain to him, "You will not be able to tell any of your friends goodbye"?

At least they don't have to make up any homework or tests. So there's that.

I wish they would get better, and I'll be honest here, it's not just because I want my kids healthy. I also want some time to myself. Yesterday when Husband came home from work, I ran to the supermarket to pick up some more children's Tylenol, and let me tell you: walking down that aisle by myself was glorious.
Seriously, this whole situation is reminding me of life with a newborn. As time goes by, I'm missing those days less and less.

Son1 is on antibiotics. It's not an awful antibiotic, but it's strong enough to mess with his digestive system, if you know what I mean. He is spending a lot of time in the bathroom these days.
That fact is relevant to the conversation I just found out happened between him and his father.

Apparently they were both watching TV last night, when Son1 decided the timing was right to rib his father a little.
His exact words, according to Husband, were, "God you two make a lot of noise." It was said with the annoyed inflection only a teenager can make.

Now, If you've read my blog at all? You'll know—I would have died of shame at this point. But Husband did not get embarrassed. Husband does not get embarrassed by sex at all. It frustrates him no end how embarrassed I do get.

"If you don't like the noise, put on your headphones," he apparently told Son1 in reply. "You got those expensive headphones for a reason, didn't you?"
"But I could you hear you guys from the bathroom!"
"So I'm not going to wear my headphones in the bathroom," Son1 said.
Husband couldn't argue that point. "This is how you came into the world, you know," he said instead.
Son1 quipped back, "I know, but I don't have to be constantly reminded."

"So what did you say to that?" I asked Husband as he was relaying to me the story from where I was rocking back and forth in a fetal position on the kitchen floor.
He said, "I basically told him to suck it up, cause this is the way things are."
"Oh my God. Just...oh my God."
"It's just sex, Wife," he said with a sigh. "This is what married couples do. He should be happy after all these years, his parents are still at it like a bunch of teenagers."

The truth is, I'm not just upset my kids are listening to us having sex. I mean, that would be humiliating enough; but that's not the only issue. The other issue is that they're not just listening to their parents having sex, they're listening to their parents having BDSM sex.
When I remember the other night with the tiger balm—did I write about that? I can't remember—how I was yelling 'no, no, please stop, please it hurts'...I wonder if Son1 was listening to that, and if he was...what he was getting from it.

My kids see their parents love each other. They see we're not in an abusive relationship, we respect each other very much, we don't keep secrets, we don't sneak around in any which way. But...does that translate to understanding that everything we do in the bedroom is consensual? That nothing coercive or harmful is going on?
We say in the scene, "We hurt, but we do not harm." Will my kids be able to tell the difference? See the difference in their parents' lifestyle?
I guess that's a larger question, one to face another day. Right now, I have to gather up the courage to deal with my kids. I know—I know—Son1 is going to bring up this issue with me, just like he did his father.
Unlike his father, I am an easy target. He will embarrass me.
I'm going to go back to rocking in a fetal position on my kitchen floor now.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

They'll Promise You the Fucking World

Contrary to what (cough cough) certain men want you to think, semen and male cum is not a cure-all. Oh, THEY will do their best to tell you otherwise. But do not let yourself be convinced! It's just a ploy. THEY will promise you anything and everything to get that white gunk all over you if you give them the chance.

So let's "debunk the gunk," shall we? Contrary to promoted claims, male cum does NOT:
  • Freshen breath
  • Whiten teeth 
  • Help a sore throat
  • Heal a burned tongue
  • Get rid of acne
  • Relax a bad back or stiff muscle
  • Cure headaches
  • Alleviate PMS
  • Stop hair loss
  • Ease shortness of breath
  • Bring down a fever
  • Moisturize dry skin 
  • Quiet a cough
  • Cure an upset stomach
  • Alleviate gas
  • Soften wrinkles
  • Make your nails grow faster
  • Make your hair grow stronger
  • Bleach your asshole
  • Heal a bruise faster
  • Stop a cut (or nose) from bleeding 
  • Clean out your ears
  • Alleviate rug burn
  • Make you smarter
  • Make you faster
  • Make you stronger
  • Make you a superhero (unless you give really good blowjobs, in which case you can call yourself SuperBlow) (Gags are your kryptonite)
  • Make you feel better when he is contractually obligated to do the dishes, and he still does not do them
  • Bring peace to the Middle East
  • Solve world hunger
  • Make your internet faster
  • Make you remember where you left your glasses
  • Return your library books for you
  • Stop the dog from shitting on the carpet (I really wish this one were true)
  • Clean the kitchen for you, or do any of the other household chores 
  • Help you lose weight
  • Help credit card debt
  • Stop telemarketers from calling you
  • Make the TV season longer
I'm sure more of a few of you can add to this list. I'll tack them on as they arrive to me. And remember: DON'T SUCCUMB TO THE PROMISES OF CUM! 

Monday, June 2, 2014

I Make Good Sandwich, TYVM

I'm going to start with the end:
It's going to be an interesting week. 

Yesterday, Husband was being an asshole. 
Now, before you start making conclusions, I don't mean a "real" asshole; I mean, he was being snippy at everyone—including our precious little cutesy wootsy five pound dog—griping about the smallest of shit, and basically just scowling at the world. 

The kids instinctively knew to stay away from him. Even the dog kept her distance. 
Me? Not so much.
"You need to stop being Mister McGrumpyPants," I announced to him (oh yes I really did). 
"Mister McGrumpy Pants?" He asked me with eyebrows raised. "Is that what you just called me?"
"Yes," I said. "You need to figure out something that is going to take you out of this bad mood, cause it's enough already."
He stared at me, and it occurred to me I might have gone a tad bit too far in my assertiveness. 
"Is there anything I can do to help you?" I asked, changing tactics. "Any way I can help?"
A cold gleam entered his eyes. He smiled. Then he got up, took my hand, and led me upstairs to the bedroom. 

He lay down on the bed and dragged me with him. 
"What are we doing?"
"We're snuggling." 
He pressed me into the crook of his arm, and I relaxed...for about, oh, five seconds. Then he grabbed the back of my hair with one hand while he started to pull down his shorts with the other. 
"I thought we were snuggling!" I said.
"We are," he replied, and shoved my face down his cock. 

He pumped my head up and down a few times by my hair before he let me go. As soon as his grip loosened, I lifted up my head enough to look up and say, "This is not snuggling!"
"This is my idea of snuggling," he replied with a laugh. 
"Well I don't think so!"
"Well I don't care." He grabbed me by the back of the hair again and shoved me down his cock, all the way to his balls, until I started making those choking sounds he seems to enjoy way too much in my mind. 
This time, even when he released his grip, I kept going. I had, after all, offered to help him with his grumpy mood.
He put his hands behind his head and made little sounds of pleasure as I worked. It didn't take long for him to come; within a few minutes, I felt the first spurt of creamy salt in the back of my throat. 

Now, I don't know how other women do it: but what I do is, I usually wait for Husband to finish coming, completely, and then I swallow. I don't like to take a bunch of mini-swallows as he comes. I like to take it all down in one big gulp. 
So I waited until I knew he was done, and then I sloooowly eased my lips down his prick while holding his come inside my mouth, ready to swallow once he popped free. 
Before he was even out of my mouth, Husband looked down at me and said, "You can go make me a sandwich now."

At this point, I could feel the mutiny rise up in my chest. 
I had offered to help him, true; but was a blowjob not enough? I had to make him a sandwich now?

Son1 was in the kitchen when I came downstairs. Husband joined us soon after, and lay down on the loveseat in the family room, watching me from afar. He watched me get out the bread and cold cuts, put everything on a plate, watched me make a sandwich....
And then he watched me eat it myself. 
It was a good sandwich. 

Son1 left the kitchen. Husband walked over to where I was sitting, happily eating my sandwich, and leaned in. 
"Is it a good sandwich?" He whispered.
"Yes," I said. "Very good." I grinned through a mouth full of cold cuts. He smiled back.
"That's good," he said. "You know what you have to look forward to now?"
"No?" I replied, my nervousness growing. "What?"
"There's a brand new jar of tiger balm sitting on our bathroom counter. You forgot?"
The truth was, I had forgotten. The tiger balm had been a gift to Husband from a fellow Top and Sadist. Husband had ordered me to put the jar on our bathroom counter so I would see it every time I went in there. But after seeing it for so long, just sitting there not doing anything, the jar had lost my attention. It had become one of those things that just exists in the room, but don't claim your focus anymore. 
I was focusing on the memory of it now, by golly. Focusing on it so much I started to choke on my sandwich. 
"There we go," he said, whacking me on the back. "Now you remember. And look, you're choking again."
"You're always making me choke!" I yelled, albeit hoarsely. "With you and your—your—"
"Snuggling?" He suggested. 
He laughed at my expression. Then he walked away. 

I have no idea when that tiger balm jar is going to be opened. It will probably take its time migrating from the bathroom, to my bedside counter, to the bed....but eventually, it's going to make its way to my ass. 
"Eventually" will probably come all too soon. Like, sometime this week. Probably when I least expect it. 

Like I said, it's going to be an interesting week. 

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Book of the Month: Training Ella

Dear Readers,
This month one of my books, Inside the Hotel Bentmoore: Training Ella, is Goodread's BDSM group's book of the month. I am very pleased and proud to say the least.

If you want to follow along in the discussion over at Goodreads, you have to join the group. You can get to the group by clicking here. Then you ask to join in.

Please consider joining the group—and please consider buying my book! The Amazon link is here, and the Barnes and Noble link is here. 

And happy reading!