Morning Wood
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Posted:Dec 10, 2014 4:35 pm
Last Updated:Dec 13, 2014 6:19 pm
5620 Views
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A morning erection is still a part of my routine thank heaven, but it usually goes away on its own now, not when I was younger though.
Guys will know what I mean. When I was fourteen through my mid twenties I awakened with a rock you could chip ice with. It was painfully hard, and you always needed to pee, which is almost impossible when it is at that angle and doesn't bend very well. The convoluted positions men get into trying to relieve that problem would be the envy of a contortionist.
And I'm sorry to say there are times when the only solution is the bathroom sink.
I know, ewwww, but just being honest.
At that age the morning routine can include standing on your head trying to pee.COLOR]
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Couples: One Plus One Equals One
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Posted:Dec 8, 2014 1:53 pm
Last Updated:Dec 23, 2014 8:33 pm
6109 Views
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The math may not be right, but if you are lucky you have been in a relationship and know exactly what I mean. You find that magical secret place inside each others heart, head, and soul where you start each others sentences or end them. think the same thought at the same instant, and become so attuned to each other it is like what physicists call 'spooky attraction.'
I miss that spooky attraction. So here are a few images that may recall the feeling for you as they do for me.
This first one reminds me that whenever I walked up behind my second wife, Sarah, and put my arms around her waist she always took my hands and put them on her breasts, even under her top.
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Intensity
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Posted:Dec 6, 2014 4:46 pm
Last Updated:Dec 13, 2014 7:41 pm
5998 Views
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One reason I don't care much for just casual sex is that I'm fairly intense in bed. I don't mean that I'm not playful and don't enjoy that aspect, but I have always done best with women who responded best to intense romantic and sexual experiences.
Not just a relationship and true intimacy, but a sort of intensity of sexual desire and expression that I know isn't right for every woman. If I have any sexual gifts it is I can provide that almost dramatic kind of sexual experience without being self conscious about it and therefore not making her self conscious. Nothing kills it faster than looking too closely at it.
But you can't do it casually, which is why I don't believe it when women and men claim that casual sex is the best sex. It isn't. The best sex is when the need and the expression of that need is overwhelmingly intense for both. When desire over rides reason and something more than just the genitals are aroused.
If we are both struggling to catch our breath, still desperate to cling skin to skin, and it is nearly soul wrenching to part even for a moment then I assume I hit the mark. You can't have that in a casual encounter.
Granted most people don't want that every night, but they like to know it is there.
My first wife said I made love the way she danced, threw myself into it and to hell with the consequences. That was certainly the way she and my second wife made love.
Sex is fine as playful, silly, and even goofy, but that needs to be balanced with sex that is dramatic and shattering. It can change both of your lives, intensify your relationships, and form bonds that it is hard to break.
My second said it was so intense like that it was a little scary, as if you were on the edge of falling over a cliff you could never get back up.
And shouldn't sex take you to the edge at times? Orgasm is a sort of short circuit to the system, and things don't short circuit without a power surge of some sort.
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A New Sport
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Posted:Dec 5, 2014 3:17 pm
Last Updated:Dec 6, 2014 4:11 pm
5923 Views
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I don't think I ever took part in this event in track and field, though it may be related to pole vaulting.
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One Is the Lonliest Number
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Posted:Dec 4, 2014 12:20 pm
Last Updated:Dec 23, 2014 8:37 pm
5989 Views
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I know just how he feels. There must be some lady out there willing to lend a helping hand.
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Ride 'Em Cowboy
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Posted:Dec 1, 2014 8:35 pm
Last Updated:Dec 1, 2014 8:46 pm
6690 Views
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I'm from Texas, born and bred, worked on my grandfather's ranch, punched a few cattle (Longhorn at that), rode in a few rodeos, and performed with my in others, so I speak with a little authority on this subject, Cowgirls.
I did Native Americans, this only seems fair.
Don't imagine Cowgirls are all country girls and rural belles, there are lawyers, doctors, models, just about any career you can name among the ranks of genuine Cowgirls.
And there is something so damn sexy about them. I don't know if it is the tight jeans that define their butts as if they were painted on, the cowboy boots that raise their ass and showoff those denim clad legs, or maybe its those cowboy shirts that always seem one size too small across the chest, and tend for some reason to be open and showing the rounded curves of the breasts pushed up by more black lace bras than you might expect.
Cowgirls, well at least the Dallas and Houston ones I knew, tend to wear diamonds too, even if its only a raccoon baculum with a diamond in the tip. They can have a lusty appetite for calf fries too. It can take a confident man to date a Cowgirl.
I grew up around them, even married one. They aren't easy to win or hold, but then nothing good is. But next time you see a real Cowgirl keep in mind they are equally at home in Dior, furs, diamonds, and Chanel, and do trade those boots on for three inch pumps when the night calls for silk and not denim.
And they do have advantages; they are used to having something big with a mind of its own between their legs, they aren't afraid of stubborn creatures, they know how to stay in the saddle when their steed is bucking, they don't mind taking a bull by the horns, and they aren't afraid to use their spurs when needed. They don't object to being rode hard and put up wet, or doing the same to you.
Happy Trails to all you Cowgirls.
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Gone Native
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Posted:Nov 29, 2014 6:41 pm
Last Updated:May 16, 2024 12:24 am
6124 Views
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[image}
If my great grandfather had so chosen I would be Cherokee today. In 1913 he had just enough, and little enough, Native American ancestry to choose, and being a practical man living in Texas at that time he chose Caucasian. The point is though that though I am not a tribe member I have as much Cherokee blood as many who are.
The recent holiday had me thinking about my native heritage and about the number of people with Native American blood you encounter all over Canada and the United States, and one reason for it is fairly simple, sex.
Native American's had a different culture and attitude toward sex when my European ancestors reached these shores. Many societies like the Cherokee were matriarchal (all Cherokee women are Cherokee princesses in that sense) and almost all offered a wider and more enticing variety of sexual experience than their European counterparts, for European men and women.
As the country expanded West men of European ancestry, traders, explorers, mountain men, encountered Indian societies and found them more open sexually and much less bound by convention. Native American women were much less hung up on the missionary position and offered a wider variety of experience sexually.
Love, played a role of course, and practicality, European women were rare in parts of the West well past the Civil War. But sex and its variations played a role as well. Indian culture was often very open, marriage to an Indian woman made you part of the tribe and had distinct advantages for traders, and frankly Indian women of the time seem to have enjoyed sex much more than their European counterpart, or at least more openly and with fewer restrictions. If nothing else, they were much more accessible than all those petticoats, corsets, pantaloons, ribbons, and stockings.
Rather than the horrors you see in Westerns many European women either chose Native American men and life or if captured blended in and married. In many ways their role was much less bound by convention. Women had a voice and again sexual practice was not restricted to the missionary position. Famed Comanche war chief Quanah Parker's white mother was quite influential in her tribe and chose to stay among the Comanche.
Today many of the Native Americans I know are blonde and blue or green eyed. They had an ancestor like mine only they chose to stay with the tribe.
It was a hard life for anyone then, and especially for women with so few skilled medical practitioners and medicines, birth often fatal, and forty old age. And yet hard as it has been portrayed there were advantages to life as an Indian woman her European cousins never knew about or imagined save in some fantasy of a handsome Indian brave.
Nor did everyone live in teepees. Many tribes built homes, owned property, and before the Civil War even slaves despite being more open about mixed blood. No few black men joined tribes for a respect and opportunity white society would not give them. Most of what the average American knows of Indian culture today is based on a handful of warring plains tribes most often depicted as a sort of natural hazard in Westerns.
But if you wonder why so many people you encounter can honestly say they "have a little Indian blood" aside from everything else Native American culture offered a franker and more exciting sex life than so called civilization at the time and Native American women were far more than the brutalized and hard worked 'squaw's' (and I apologize for using the word) of countless Western movies..
{image}
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Now You're Cooking
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Posted:Nov 28, 2014 8:04 pm
Last Updated:Nov 29, 2014 4:57 pm
6337 Views
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The bird is a bony carcass, the pies are empty tins, and the dressing will probably go bad before we eat it all, and we have to do it all over in less than a month.
So take a breather. I did all the cooking yesterday, but the picture below reminded me of when I had a partner in the kitchen and how much more fun it was --- and to be fair how much longer it took --- to get things done.
I hope you had someone special to get in your way in the kitchen yesterday.
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Try a Little Tenderness
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Posted:Nov 27, 2014 12:17 pm
Last Updated:Nov 28, 2014 12:07 am
6259 Views
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While we are being thankful today for all our blessings and hoping the bird in the oven will come out juicy and tender, its a good time to remember that a little tenderness goes a long way with women and not just turkeys.
So later this evening when she finally gets to sit down and rest try a little neck or foot rub, or if she is in the mood other parts, but show a little appreciation, pay attention to her wants and needs, and be at least as thankful for her as the bird you ate.
And even if she is a terrible cook and ruins it all, it won't hurt to let her know you appreciate the thought and effort.
Tonight is a good time for a cuddle and some deft hand work to let her know she is what you are most thankful for this holiday.
Like the song says, try a little tenderness
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Turkey Run
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Posted:Nov 26, 2014 3:56 pm
Last Updated:Nov 26, 2014 7:28 pm
6297 Views
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Tomorrow is what?
Happy Thanksgiving everyone. Let's hope we all have a better day than the turkey.
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Body Slam
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Posted:Nov 23, 2014 8:01 pm
Last Updated:Nov 24, 2014 12:13 pm
6903 Views
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There is an urgency at times, a sharp poignant piercing of the genitals that rises along your spine, raises your hackles, and sets your skin alight as if a single spark would set you aflame. We were at that point when I fumbled the door to the house open, one hand already groping her ass as she pushed it up and back against my touch.
We fell into the door. The entranceway/coatroom was small for one, two could barely fit in there, but it was all we could do to close and lock the door behind us. I turned her into my arms, our mouths sought each other. I could taste the champagne and strawberries still on her breath from dessert. I mean to kiss her softly, gently, slight tender kisses, but when our lips touch she grinds her mouth onto mine, bone on bone, teeth on teeth, bruising, lips parted, tongues hungry and delving deeply.
My hands are groping her under her coat, and the silver fox shrugs from her shoulders pooling at her feet. I push her dress up so one hand strokes her hip and thigh, the other is pushing aside the critical vee baring the swollen mounds of her breasts and I find one turgid nipple hard as diamond and burning a hole in my palm until I twist it sharply with thumb and finger. She catches her breath in my mouth, arches up to me, grinds her pelvis up into me.
Her hand has been digging nails into my ass pulling me closer. Now she jams it between us gripping my cock painfully. Her teeth are digging into my lip to the point of pain. My zipper is roughly tugged down and her hand dig inside my pants. It burns when she grips my cock squeezing, twisting, then lower to find my swollen tender balls and so anxious I fear she will cripple me with her awful need the way I want to rip away her clothes and take her from behind braced against the door.
Exactly when we are both naked, well, mostly naked, and I have her pressed against the door slipping down her body with my mouth, lifting her, roughly parting her legs, burying my face in her heady crotch, I can’t say. The perfume she had placed there earlier burns my tongue. Even though she wore no panties the rich scent of the evening is on her and it is intoxicating in ways the champagne we had less than an hour earlier could never be.
There is no technique as I plunge my tongue into her. She is dripping wet, sopping, almost running down her inside legs. She arches her pelvis up to my tongue and digs steel fingers into my skull pulling my face deeper, but almost as quickly she pushes me away.
“Now,” she gasps, “Now, fuck me now!”
I pull her down into the pile of clothes and fur, kicking our shoes aside and trying to make the tiny space of the entrance way work for us. We could so easily open the door, head for the bedroom, we can hear the cats on the other side of the door meowing. All we have to do is slow down, turn this into a long tender night of love making.
We could no more do that than fly.
Her mouth grazes my cock wetting the head, she turns on her knees back to me, presenting. My hand strokes her wet opening my fingers coming away soaked. My cock feels as if it will burst, a knife like pleasure/pain I haven’t felt since I was a stabs into my testicles. I suddenly cannot breathe out of her. I feel as if I will expire if I don’t plunge to the hilt in her heat. I fall away into her wet furnace as muscle and nerves wrap around my width and length and she cries out. One hand is gripping one of her breasts and she grabs it, pulls it to her mouth and digs her teeth into it.
I feel her body convulse as wave after wave of orgasm slams into her, and though I have barely entered her my whole body is focused in my swollen cock which is pulsing, swelling, and suddenly flooding, a dam of hot boiling cum exploding from me and my balls so tight up into my body it seems they will never descend again..
Somewhere a few eons later we are curled there our lips softly feeding off each other.
“We’re going to have to send my suit and your dress to the cleaners,” I say.
“Don’t forget my fur. I hate to think what they’ll say.”
“We can’t be the first."
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to shampoo the carpet either, “ she says distractedly because I have found one turgid nipple and begun to lightly tease with my tongue. My cock is half hard, a wet nose nuzzling her hip.
“Happy Anniversary,” she says, pushing me on my back and straddling me.
The cats are on the other side of the door but have given up. They are going to have to wait. A hot wet silk sheath of muscle and desire encompasses me.
“Happy Anniversary, darling,” I say only barely getting the words out until I am lost in her heat my breath swept away.
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2
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Carezza
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Posted:Nov 19, 2014 1:20 pm
Last Updated:Nov 25, 2014 9:10 pm
6920 Views
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Anyone old enough to remember The Joy of Sex may recall the chapter on Carezza, a technique for touching designed to drive women out of their skin. I suppose it fell out of popularity because neither sex seems to have the patience for this kind of thing, but I can testify I've seen more than a few women virtually turn inside out from the intensity of Carezza.
It's a soft, teasing, maddening touch that never quite gets to the actual primary sexual parts, or at least takes forever to get there. Imagine a brush of a man's finger circling your nipple but never quite touching the central point, or lightly stroking the seam under your breast where it fits to your ribcage while his other hand lightly strokes your face, throat, or brushes along your ribs, down your flanks, or across your lower belly.
I like to start with the back of the neck and throat, move all the way down to her feet as slowly as I can, and then roll her over and do the front, but never quite touching her nipples or genitalia until I have worked back to her face and start down again with my lips. You have to learn your partner pretty well because some women can have an intense orgasm when you have yet to touch any direct sexual contact, or from a single light stroke of the clitoris when they become intensely aroused.
But when you make love don't just focus on the obvious parts, your skin is the largest erogenous zone a woman has, and light teasing touches can carry you to places you thought only a hard thrusting cock could satisfy.
It isn't something any woman will want every time, and it is no replacement for hot hard intercourse, but it is a delicious side dish that can substitute as a main course for a change of pace. Some women, like cats, like to be stroked.
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4
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A Careful Arrangement
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Posted:Nov 16, 2014 4:48 pm
Last Updated:Nov 17, 2014 3:26 pm
6679 Views
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The female anatomy may be prone to internal plumbing problems, but at least it is a neat well designed exterior package,
Males are another matter. For the sex expected to be more active we have a design flaw that, however much we love it, is very much in the way in just about everything but sex.
If you have ever watched a sporting event you know what I mean. You don't see the ladies softball, soccer, or volleyball team constantly adjusting themselves, not even their sports bras. Men on the other hand have made a virtual ballet of the art.
Large or small they tend to get around down there, and every time you move they find some new way to get in the way.
Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't part with any part of them, they are in some ways my closest and oldest friends, but it would be nice not to spend half my life adjusting them. Unlike breasts they do not make a training device for them, but they could use one.
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To link to this blog (rm_rakehell500) use [blog rm_rakehell500] in your messages.
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The Meandering Thoughts of a Meandering Mind.
