Archive for October, 2007

The Hardcore Bachelorette Party

Hardcore bachelorette parties are not for the meek and mild. Oh, wild times chugging liquor, feeling up hot, muscular men, and drunken hook ups in the bathroom. Ah, what memories are made before that big day with the old ball and chain. Hardcore party girls do not go for the milk and cookies, they want the whole sausage and they want him hot and ready. Put up the stupid penis rings and LifeSaver shirts biddies, it's time to whip out the thong and condoms.

Sometimes there are times when it seems that life is giving you that old line, "Always a bridesmaid and never a bride", why be the bride when you can be the bachelorette? Move over Martha Stewart, no more cookies and punch for the modern woman. Little Miss Gonna -Get- Married is looking to get wild before she ties the knot and only one thing will do...she wants a hardcore bachelorette party for a bunch of hardcore party girls.

So what is a hardcore bachelorette party? Well I am tickled that you ask. A hardcore bachelorette party is anything you want it to be. A standard term the hardcore party girls might here is "CFNM", which stands for Clothed Female(s) Nude Males. It is exactly what it sounds like. It would typically apply to the standard Male Stripper dancing at a typical bachelorette party, but not a hardcore bachelorette party. The clothed women at a hardcore bachelorette party might be doing more than just looking at the merchandise. Many of these hardcore party girls get to sample the goods. If I need to explain what the allegory is, maybe we need to have a discussion on "Birds and the Bees 101". These types of parties can either be immensely fun, provided all of the girls are swingers ready to party with anyone, or they can lead to some feelings of guilt, anger, recrimination and hostility...all directed towards the best friend who planned the party. Be smart. Know how the bachelorette is going to react.

Let's assume that the girls are extreme hardcore party girls. The type all college frat boys dream of hooking up with one day. Here are a few ideas for the party night:

• Eat some food. No one wants to be drunk to early and sick before things really get going. Find something more to eat than an Altoid or a pack of crackers.
• Pack some aspirin and some TUMs. A lot of times, alcohol can disagree with a person's digestive system and can cause a massive headache, be prepared.
• Load up on condoms. Even if the bride to be isn't going to indulge, be prepared. Maybe you can decorate some cars before the wild night is through.
• Number of a taxi service. Don't drink and drive. Enough said about that.
• Don't forget some gum. No one likes to kiss someone else who has ashtray breath or smells like the bottom of a distillery barrel.

Okay, now that the purses are packed, lets move to entertainment. Strippers are always a good choice, but make sure they dig females. There is nothing worse than going into a strip club and finding out that the male dancers have no interest in the ladies and make it seem that dancing for you is a torture. Pass, no way. If you are able to find some hotties that deliver more than a few bumps and grinds but can offer up the whole package...make sure there are enough to go around. If strippers who put out aren't in your price range...go sweet talk some college hunks into earning a little extra beer money by putting on a show. The point is to have a blast and get wild and crazy.

Have fun, and remember...what happens at a bachelorette party, stays there. Clean up the evidence in the morning, go have a latte and chill to the fond memories of being a wild single woman one last time.

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Oct 28, 2007 | 0 comments | View Post

Naughty Monday night affair with S

It was the first day of October half-term and as S’s wife had gone with his children to her parents for two days I’d agreed to visit S for the evening. Being half-term was difficult for me as well, and I told him I’d have to go home first and have a meal with J and the children, but that I would come round to his house after that (we hadn’t seen each other for a month). As I sat in our bedroom putting on my make-up after I’d showered, J came in and asked what I was going to wear. I told him I hadn’t decided and that it seemed strange going out on a Monday night after I’d just had dinner with my family. J was standing behind me sliding his hands down off my shoulders and under the towel I had wrapped around me, tweaking my nipples and reminding me that I used to go out for evenings with S at this sort of time quite often when I’d first started my affair with him five years ago.

J was kissing me on the neck and ear and said “why don’t you go round there with JUST your coat on, like you came home from him that time last year!”. I was giggling and saying it was only 9 o’clock and that it was a bit risky if I bumped into any of our neighbours as I walked up the road. But he replied “It’s already dark, and no-one would ever guess you’d be out walking completely naked under your coat!”. I told him to go and look after the kids and let me finish my make-up and I’d think about it.

I was quite turned-on by his suggestion though and after I’d finished my face I pulled the coat out of the wardrobe and stood by the mirror. It is full-length and dark grey and as I topped it off with my wrap-around scarf and boots I decided that J was right, no-one would ever suspect there was nothing else underneath. I called down the stairs for J . . . when he came into the room he whistled “you look sensational” and then started kissing me in an excited embrace. I told him to keep the kids occupied and that I’d be leaving in the next few minutes and “just make sure you’re waiting up for me this time!”. He laughed and assured me he would.

I re-applied some lipstick and, feeling really quite naughty already, I unbuttoned the top of my coat and smudged a little lip gloss around each nipple. J first got me doing this, and although I had done it for S before, I didn’t think I’d done it for him for quite some time, but I was feeling really tingly and excited already . . . and I hadn’t even left the house yet !!!

I stopped at the front-room door to say my goodbyes, but the children were so engrossed in the TV that they hardly seemed to notice my departure. J winked and said “don’t be too late!”. I felt extremely aroused as I walked round the corner and up the road knowing I had nothing on beneath my coat. It was cold and I could feel the chill against my skin, but it was a really thrilling, daring, tingly feeling.
S opened his front door and I stepped quickly into his hallway, turning round to accept his kisses and a squeezing hug after he’d closed the door. He was kissing me again and again and telling me how “wonderful” I looked.

I stood back and as I started unbuttoning I said “would you like to take my coat”. He gasped as it fell open . . . I shrugged it off my shoulders and then pulled off my scarf and he was immediately embracing me and running his hands down my back telling me I was incredible and amazing. We kissed and stroked our way into his front room and onto his sofa. He’d already found the lip gloss on my nipples and was gasping and groaning and then lifting up to kiss me passionately. I lent back and asked him to take my boots off, and then it was my turn to gasp as he licked from the inside of my knee down my thigh to my pussy and then up the other leg to my other knee. He’d calmed down a bit now and, kneeling in front of me, he pulled my hips forward on the sofa and started licking and sucking at my lips telling me how much he still loved my “smoothness”.

He stood up and started pulling off his own clothes. I lent forward to stroke his willy as he pulled his shirt off over his head. S doesn’t always get hard straight away, but this time he was completely erect. I love sliding the palm of my hand up and down against the underside of my mans cock. It’s almost a sense of fulfilment, or achievement, that I have made him excited like that and S is really smooth just where his cock meets his balls and I love stroking his silky flesh there.

S knelt back down on the floor though and started his licking and sucking again. It was lovely and I was already really aroused, but I wanted to regain control again and so pushed him back gently and slid off the sofa down onto him. I was rubbing my nipples on his chest as we kissed, and felt my pussy easily slide onto his cock. I was lifting and pushing and feeling very naughty. He leant back with his arms on the floor and we continued thrusting. He was uncomfortable though and wanted to move onto the sofa, but I told him to just straighten his legs out instead of kneeling. I then pushed him down onto his back completely, pushing my hands down onto his chest and telling him “I want to watch myself fucking you like this”. I was really feeling naughty and enjoying myself wanting to be more and more provocative and outrageous. I was telling him to “look at it going in” as I lifted myself up and down on him and I was looking down between my boobs bouncing from side to side and my lips sliding up and down on him. He was moaning and rolling his head from side to side and then gasped out “I’m going to come”. I pulled up off him and then sat back down again with my pussy on his balls as first a little dribble and then a sudden burst spurt out and onto his tummy. He jerked again and again with several more little spurts, and reached over to hold his willy, but I pulled his hand away and pinned his arms back onto the floor again. “You can’t hold it!” I said, and I pushed down with tummy, sliding my boobs down over him until I was lying between his legs with my head on his tummy and his cock and balls squashed gently under my neck.

He wouldn’t let me lie there for long though, saying he felt uncomfortable on the floor and that he could smell himself and wanted to wipe it up. I joked that it didn’t smell any more spermy than usual and that I would go and find some paper towels from his kitchen. He followed me into the kitchen though and after mopping each other up we stood chatting whilst he poured some wine. He told me how wonderful it was to walk around naked in his own home and that he couldn’t remember the last time his wife had seen him without any clothing at all on. He told me how wonderful my “entrance” had been and then suggested we go upstairs.

I paused in the hallway to pick-up my coat and scarf and hang them over the bannister and then followed him up to their bedroom. We sat on the bed for awhile, sipping at the wine, and chatting about people and relationships. Our strokes and caresses began to get more and more arousing for each other though and he soon pushed me back and slid down to my pussy again. His fingers and tongue just got quicker and more arousing and he lifted me up and asked me to turn over onto my knees. I just can’t relax with anybody else like this in the way I can with S. J doesn’t really enjoy my bottom anyway (though he enjoys hearing about what S can do to me), but I just find it so erotic, and so different with S. He is slow and gentle, and his fingers and thumb and his tongue is just so arousing to feel sliding over and around and in and out of me. S got off the bed to open the drawer on his bedside cabinet and then came back to kneel on the bed behind me. I asked what his wife must think he keeps it in the drawer for and then we both laughed when he said “she never goes down my drawers”. My giggles quickly stopped though when I felt that first cold dribble of the gel as he wiped it down over me. It’s a cold, but quite tingly and exciting sensation.

S just starts so wonderfully slowly like this and then I can just feel myself pushing backwards onto him and that engulfing, gasping feeling as we start pushing against each other. I can adjust the position and our motion and I feel like I’m in complete control and then he’ll reach round to flick at my nipples or slide his fingers down to my pussy and I hear myself just exploding and crying out and pumping against him. I’m not sure how long we were like this but then I just lost myself completely and came with a huge scream and fell forwards onto my tummy. I felt him splashing himself over my bum cheeks and back and then we curled up together on our sides, him cuddling into me from behind, both of us gasping and writhing together.

When I stirred, still locked in a foetal embrace with S, I knew we’d been sleeping for some time. My phone was in my coat pocket at the foot of the stairs and I knew we wouldn’t have heard the alarm I’d set as a reminder for me that I had to be going home. S got up to check the time and returned to the bed to say it had only just gone midnight. I told him I did really have to get up as we’d only fall asleep again if we just stayed lying there. We talked for a little longer and then made our way back down the stairs. S brought my boots from the front room and then dressed to walk me home, as I “dressed” myself in my coat and scarf.

It’s only a few minutes walk back to our house, and it certainly felt colder under my coat now than I had felt earlier. We stopped for a quick kiss at my gate, and S told me how “fantastic” it had been. We agreed to arrange a hotel as soon as we could and I thanked him for walking me home.

J was sitting naked in the armchair when I walked into our front room. “How was it?” he asked with that expectant grin he always has when I’ve been out with S. I’d already unbuttoned my coat in the hallway and opened it wide, “apparently I was fucking fantastic” I said. J walked across and unwrapped my scarf and pushed me down onto the sofa. “But how was it for you?” he asked as he knelt down on the floor in front of me. “Yes, it was nice” I replied. I guided his head down to my pussy and then lay back a bit more on the sofa. J lifted up and said “you’ve been bumming haven’t you?” I pulled him up onto the sofa with me and said “Yes, but don’t you want to hear how I walked into his hallway first?” . . .

Oct 27, 2007 | 0 comments | View Post

Sexual Power For Women – Chapter 2

Georgeann Cross finished writing Sexual Power for Women in 1997. No one would publish it. The reasons are left to the reader’s speculation. A few copies on loose-leaf paper have been in circulation ever since, passing from woman to woman. Now, the Scandalous Reader presents this ground breaking work on the art of sensual female domination in weekly chapters.

There was a time when acetylsalicylic acid and penicillin were called drugs and a woman who exercised, ate a moderate and balanced diet, and avoided alcohol and tobacco was said to be looking after her health. At that time, if one had been permitted to talk about such things at all, I might have been called a dominatrix.

The old words have since been taken over by the hard stuff, so that only the likes of heroin and cocaine are called drugs, while people take care of their health with such medications as acetylsalicylic acid and penicillin if they haven’t followed a wellness program or it has somehow failed them.

A dominatrix wears a costume of black leather with metal studs. It includes an uplift bra and spike heels. She has a severe hair style and carries a whip that she uses with terrifying frequency, apparently because she’s always angry. She ties her victims into the most uncomfortable of postures and subjects them to hideous tortures. To top it off, she gets paid for all this. By the people she mistreats! It’s beyond strange.

That’s not me. I don’t look like that, I’m seldom angry, and I don’t beat or torture people, though I do use the word—sometimes as a playful exaggeration and sometimes as a convenience. I don’t own an unusual amount of leather, little of my clothing is black, and I favor neither black nor leather when I anticipate making love. I rarely wear a bra and almost never high heels. I don’t have a whip. I’m in my forties, slim, of moderate height. My breasts are small; my hair hangs a bit below my shoulders; I keep my nails short; my ears have never been pierced. I usually wear jeans and sneakers with a T-shirt in summer or a sweatshirt in winter.

I’m gentle by nature, friendly, easy to talk to. I don’t like to hurt people. I’ve never even spanked any of my lovers. I drive courteously and with regard for the rights and safety of pedestrians, even when visiting the Great Northeastern Megalopolis.

And I’m an amateur. I’ve never been paid for sex, nor has anyone ever offered to pay me. If someone did make such an offer, I wouldn’t respond favorably. That sort of transaction shocks my conscience, though I don’t presume to judge the people who do things that way.

Am I, then, really a dominatrix? The word is convenient, so I’ll continue using it whether I’m entitled or not. Genuine dominatrix or mere pretender, I’m a woman who enjoys sexual power, and this book is offered so that you, and other women like you, may be empowered in the same way if you so choose. I’m including this account of myself so you’ll be able to judge whether my advice is worth considering.

I was born, raised, and educated in California. I’ve worked my entire adult life in the computer industry of Silicon Valley, writing technical manuals. I’ve never married, partly out of a determination to remain childless and partly because I rebel against allowing the state to license my living arrangements and love life. I’ve had a number of relationships with men, one at a time, and some of those relationships were very much like marriages in closeness, intensity and duration. They ended because of my fear of parenthood or because of my partner’s need to move to another part of the world or for other ordinary reasons.

The only real difference between my relationships and those of so many other women is that I openly took control of the sexual aspect of each one and, just as openly, used the leverage that that gave me to direct the relationship as a whole. As more women read this book and discuss it, the pattern will become common. When I took control of my first relationship, though, there was no book to guide me. I got started differently.

It’s commonly recognized that our sexual appetites are shaped by our earliest adventures, and it was a chance occurrence at the age of fourteen, before I had any real sexual experience, that sparked my interest in female domination.

I was spending a few summer weeks visiting a friend who had moved to Maryland the year before. One afternoon we were at the home of her neighbor, Beth, along with a few of Beth’s other friends. There were six of us in all, fourteen to sixteen years old, and we were skinny-dipping in the enclosed backyard pool as we’d done a couple of times previously. At some point my friend approached me in the water and quietly told me that our hostess had noticed a boy hiding in the bushes near the garden hose, spying on us. Beth wanted us to close in on him slowly, pretending not to have observed his presence, then grab him.

I don’t know how well we pretended not to notice him, but we did manage to get hold of him and pin him to the ground. He was about my age.

Beth asked him why he was hiding in the bushes and he said he didn’t know.

“Yes you do. If you didn’t know why you were doing it, you wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of getting in here and hiding. You wanted a chance to see us without our clothes on, didn’t you?”

He admitted that he did.

“I’ll bet you were going to brag to your friends about it afterward, and then they’d all be teasing me for the rest of the summer.” She thought a moment. “We’re going to show you how it feels to have someone staring at you when you’re naked.”

She bent down and removed his shoes and socks, then told Rena, who was sitting on his chest, “Let’s get that shirt off.”

The two of them unbuttoned it and I made sure that his right hand, which I’d been holding against the ground, didn’t get loose when we bent his arm and slid the sleeve down.

When the shirt was off, Beth grinned at him and said, “Soon you’ll be as naked as we are.”

Then, to Rena, “Help me get his pants off.”

They pulled the pants down slowly. He was wearing undershorts and they were pushed up in front like a tent by his stiff cock. I couldn’t wait to see it uncovered. My pussy was congested and I could feel the pulse beating in it.

Beth and Rena got his pants clear of his feet, Beth supervising to make sure neither of his legs got loose of the girls holding them.

Beth looked at the tent in the undershorts, then up at the boy’s face. “You have a hard-on. You’re really going to be embarrassed when those shorts come off and we all get to see it.”

The two of them took hold of the elastic waistband of the shorts and slowly pulled them down.

I still remember every detail of how his cock came into view—the glimpse I got by peering between the waistband and his body as they lifted the elastic clear; the frantic effort he made to free his wrist from my grip as he realized that if he couldn’t stop us, six girls would see, the way it stood so stiff, as I now know only a young boy’s does, when the shorts were down below his bottom. I remember everything about it—its color, its texture, the way the few strands of hair sparkled in the sun. It was the first erect penis I’d ever seen and I was utterly transfixed.

Soon the shorts were pulled over his ankles and every inch of the boy’s body was bare.

“See how embarrassing it is?” Beth teased. “You shouldn’t have spied on us.”

Rena giggled and gestured toward the boy’s cock. “Let’s play with it till he can’t stand it.”

Beth licked her lips. “Go ahead!”

Rena took it between her thumb and forefinger and began stroking it with a milking motion. The boy struggled a bit, then gave up. His breathing turned into a heavy panting, and then, all at once, about twenty seconds after Rena had started, his whole body seemed to convulse and his cock spurted.

“It’s broken! I’m dying!”

He struggled again to free his arms even as he bucked his hips and continued to ejaculate.

I watched, fascinated. I had read descriptions of the male orgasm, but I’d never seen it happen. I hadn’t expected that the amount of fluid was so great, or that it was expelled with such force.

When the fireworks were over and Rena withdrew her hand, the boy was half crying, a bewildered expression on his face.

“Let me go! It’s broken!”

Beth answered him. “No it isn’t. Didn’t that ever happen to you before?”

He shook his head and said no.

“Well, that’s what happens when a girl plays with your thing.” She pointed at the white liquid on his chest. “You wet all over yourself.”

He looked where she was pointing and blushed.

“I guess we might as well let you go now. Don’t tell anyone you were even here, or we’ll say you took your own pants down and played with yourself in front of us. Then they’ll think you’re a real sickie and put you in an institution.”

We let him up, we all got dressed, and we escorted him out.

Sex, for me, became that scenario. When I was horny, what I fantasized wasn’t conventional courtship and the sort of passive lovemaking that was expected of girls in those days, but my rendering some boy helpless and teasing him sexually. (In fact I still enjoy replaying my recollection of that day in Maryland and, understanding now that our sexual tastes really are shaped by our early experiences, I get a particular kick out of thinking that somewhere in this world there’s a man my age whose favorite sexual fantasy is his recollection of how he was held down and made to have his first orgasm by six curious teenage girls, one of them me.)

As I grew up through my high school and college years, I became involved in a series of relationships with young men, as any young woman does, and in a few purely sexual adventures besides. I met my partners in the usual ways—by being in the same classes, through shared interests, or accidentally—and until I was twenty my relationships were almost completely ordinary. They differed from those of other lusty young women only in that I contrived to tie up each of my partners at least once and sexually toy with him. After all, it was my favorite fantasy. I got my partners to go along by whatever means necessary, though only a couple seemed sufficiently enthusiastic to do it repeatedly. I didn’t try to sexually enslave these young men, and for a very simple reason: I hadn’t yet any idea that such a thing was possible.

Then, during my junior year of college, I met the man who was to become my first love slave, and my preferences set the tone of all our lovemaking. That relationship showed me what was possible, and since then I’ve sought to sexually enslave every one of my lovers. I’ve almost always succeeded too, and I’ve become so sure of my power that I simply won’t continue seeing the occasional man who refuses to do things my way. I know what I need and I know I can get it.

Over the years I’ve learned a great deal. I’ve learned the anatomy and physiology of male sexual response, and its psychology as well—especially what happens inside a man’s head when a woman takes control and toys with his sexuality. I’ve learned technique and developed it into an art form.

What does all this mean? What does my history tell you? What use can you make of the knowledge I’ve gathered?

At one extreme, you know that female domination isn’t for you. It involves taking on a role that’s somehow contrary to your core personality. I can’t dispute that—you know your own nature—but I invite you to continue reading anyway. You’ll find out how it is for me and for other women like me, gain some insight into men, perhaps even pick up one or two techniques that turn out not to make you uncomfortable.

At the other extreme, this book is just what you’ve always been looking for. You’re as enthusiastic about female domination as I am, and you’re going to use the techniques I recommend, along with any others you hear about or think up, to take control of any relationship you get into. You’re reading this as a technical manual and it won’t disappoint you, even if it doesn’t tell you how to be the dominatrix in the fetish magazines.

Most likely you’re at neither extreme. You’re committed to a relationship, perhaps a marriage, and its sexual aspect is nothing at all like the sexual aspect of my relationships. You’re interested in the potential value of my advice but you’re skeptical, and well you should be.

To start with, I seem to have gone to school in a different world. I told you I arranged to sexually toy with every one of my high school and college lovers, and that seems unlikely. When you were that age you knew any number of young men with whom such behavior would have been unthinkable. I knew them too. There were only a few of them. They avoided me or I, them. I have a confident manner and a natural talent for teasing. That attracts men who are psychologically well suited to my agenda and repels most of those who aren’t, though unfortunately it also attracts the sort of man who has a need to become involved with a woman he regards as a bitch and beat her into submission. I have an instinctive dislike for thugs and an intuitive ability to recognize them, so I’ve always managed to avoid men who might react to me with violence.

If you’re sure none of your male schoolmates could have been maneuvered into that kind of scene, it’s probably because you’re unaccustomed to considering the possibility, or because you were taken in by their macho posturing and bluff. Most of them could have been, and most grown men can too.

Even if you grant that, you still have good reason to be skeptical. I’ve told you my rule is that my relationships go my way or they don’t go; I’m willing to take the risk that a new lover will reject me as too kinky. Your priorities are different. Your existing relationship is important to you and you suspect that if you tried doing the things I’ve done, the consequences would be disastrous. It’s certainly something to consider. There are indeed relationships that would be irreparably damaged by an attempt to apply my techniques, and men who would react with the ferocity of a cornered animal. Contraindications are almost always obvious though, and if you heed them, you can pretty well avoid serious risk.

Besides telling you how—and why—to take control of your partner and make a devoted love slave of him, I’ll be telling you how to recognize situations in which it’s better not to make the attempt, and I’ll even show you how it’s possible to use my techniques to improve a relationship without going as far as I do.

Though it might seem that my gung-ho attitude and limited stylistic repertoire should have given me little opportunity to learn such subtleties, that’s not at all the case. Over the years I’ve made a great many friends. Some have been men, two have been celibate (one finds everything in California) and a few have been consistently happy with their partners. Most, though, have been involved in at least one difficult relationship with a man at some time during our friendship.

Whenever one of my friends told me of a problem she was having with a husband or lover, and the problem seemed to be one she could solve by using the power of her femininity, I’d describe my qualifications (if she didn’t already know them) and offer advice. If she was interested, I’d give her all the gritty details she needed to bring her man under control.

Some friends took my advice and some didn’t. Those who did usually told me how it went. Some thought up techniques of their own, experimented, and shared the results with me. Through years of this sort of vicarious experience, I’ve learned quite a bit about what can happen when a woman attempts to take control of an established relationship. I’ve learned to predict the success or failure of the attempt with reasonable accuracy, I’ve learned what kinds of problems can be alleviated by female domination, and I’ve learned what kinds of problems can be caused or aggravated by it.

In recent years, several of my friends have made repeated attempts to persuade me to commit my knowledge to written form so that it might be available to any woman who wants it. As you see, they succeeded. The result is the book you now hold in your hands.

One thing I beg. Before you attempt to use any of the advice I offer, please read it all, cover to cover. Many important points are presented only once to avoid boring you with repetition. Backward references are frequent while forward references are almost nonexistent, so reading from the beginning is easier than skipping around—the first time, anyway. Reading to the end will save you from acting on incomplete information; topics that seem to have been covered completely are sometimes further elaborated after the introduction of new but related material. More important still, nearly every strategy and technique I recommend is unsuited to certain situations or types of men, and most of the warnings you need are clustered in the later chapters. If you read everything before acting, you’re less likely to find yourself confronted with unexpected difficulty.

My fondest wish is that this work will affect people only to the good—that relationships between women and men will be improved, that individual women and individual men will be happier, and that no harm will come to any person or any relationship.

Gung ho!

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Oct 26, 2007 | 1 comment | View Post

The Blended Orgasm

Okay, you’ve heard of a clitoral orgasm and you’ve heard of the G-spot kind — both damn good in their own right. Now imagine if you blended the two types for one phenomenal fireworks-like finale.

Oct 23, 2007 | 0 comments | View Post

Her Story – First Time Cheaters

Three women tell three torrid tales of discovering how one man isn't enough. The Scandalous Reader reveals the deep secrets they won't even tell their best friends!

Stephanie

I have to say that I resisted for a looooong time. My resistance finally melted, though, and I cheated on Craig for about a year.

The thing that finally made me decide to take the plunge was a guy four years younger than me at the time. I was 24. He worked with my husband at a computer consulting firm so I'd met him several times in social gatherings and knew he had a "thing" for me -you know - how guys look at you and you just know? Well, our computer had was acting screwy and my husband was due home for lunch to drop off a piece of software needed to get the damn thing running again. But guess what? Craig didn't show! Michael did!

He appeared at my door with his puppy dog eyes explaining that Craig had gotten busy with a project and sent him instead. Of course, I invited him in. He was, afterall, to install the software. Now here's where a lesson is to be learned: Never leave things open on your computer you wouldn't want, say, your mom to see! Once Michael sat down at the desk and accessed a few drives and typed in a command or two - bam! Up came my thumbnails of naked guy pics. I blushed and he chuckled a bit - making a comment that I like them big! Which is true - Craig isn't exactly Dirk Diggler in the dick department and I like to look at big dicks!

Anyway, I got a bit bold and said something to the effect of "Hell yeah, I like them big!", though It was probably more like "uh, yeah, ok" cause I wasn't that assertive in those days!

Michael closed the file but I could see him stealing glances at me. And I must say I was wet as hell because he was definitely a hottie! I was surprised when he said under his breath, and I'll always remember this line: "Stephanie, I would kill or die to go down on you."

Three minutes later, we're in the bedroom, I'm practically tearing my clothes of, and Michael is stammering and shaking and trying to believe it was really happenning. Well, I started tugging at his clothes and he snapped out of the twilight zone and assisted me with his belt. His clothes off, I guided his head down...

The first moment Michael's tongue slid up the groove of my pussy and went to work, my body gave a giant shudder of pure delight, and I knew that cheating was worth it. This strange tongue was making my body melt!

Well, I was cumming in about two minutes flat. Michael then crawled up my body and planted the hungriest kiss on my lips as his big dick sank into my pussy. Ohhh. I'd not had any other cock since college and Michael was bigger than Craig. He began fucking me with these wild circular thrusts! Animalistic is the only way to describe it! I'll tell you, he was so in lust with me, he came quickly and he could tell I was more than a little disappointed. Not to worry, though, because I was amazed when he climbed back down my body and began eating me again!

Some say screwing another man in your husband's bed is the dumbest thing a woman can do! Imagine getting away with it - but barely! As Michael lapped his cum from my pussy, I heard the door downstairs open. I glanced at the clock.

"Shit! Craig's here - out!" I whispered in a panic. Michael grabbed at his clothes and slipped out the balcony door. (good thing the bedroom faces the woods behind the apartment!)

Craig came into the bedroom just then to find me laying on the bed naked and panting. He looked surprised so I quickly said "I couldn't wait until you got home!" He then knelt down and started cleaning me out! hmmmmm. My first "taste" of power!

I'd worried he'd taste the difference. If he did, he's never said. I also worried Craig saw Michael's car. But I later learned (I fucked Michael one more time before Craig was transferred) that he'd parked down the street just in case Craig came home and had planned to try his luck with me!

Susan

My hubby and I were married 5 years ago. We were both 21. I designed my dress (from Trashy in LA) and all my bridesmaids had theirs made there too. My dress was white satin and underneath was a custom made corset, matching thong as well as stockings and some complimentary 3 inch heels. (to tall and my feet would have ached all day)

It was quite hectic as I prepared but I couldn't help notice one of my hubby's friends. Not his best man but one of the groomsmen. He had cleaned up for the wedding and he looked delicious! We had flirted on many occasions whenever we got together but nothing had come of it. But today we traded several long looks and my maid of honor noticed. Having had several glasses of bubbly she urged me to go for it this one last time...

So I did. My maid of honor got Kenny into the changing room after everybody had left. She pushed Kenny into the room and said, "enjoy". He looked at me somewhat slyly but didn't talk. I walked up to him and just looked into his eyes. He read them so well...he pulled me close and kissed me deeply. In moments his talented fingers had me on the brink. I knelt before him and released a very nice thick cock. And it tasted as yummy as it looked. I knew I shouldn't but it just seemed so terribly, wonderfully evil to be sucking cock in my wedding dress & it wasn't my hubby to be! After sucking his cock I lay back on a table...

Kenny just slid my panties to the side and slipped right in. Damn, did he have a cock! I came twice just due to the intensity of it. I knew somewhere it was wrong but I just wanted some...I managed to expose my tits for him and we said not a word as we just fucked. No love here, all lust.

In just the space of minutes I could tell he was going to cum. I raised up on my elbows and whispered to him, "fuck me baby, fill me up...I want it..." and that set him off. Kenny's eyes screwed shut and he moaned once, and flooded me. His eyes flew open as the first blast hit and we stared into each others eyes as he came...God it was so delicious.

Without a word he withdrew from my very wet and happy pussy. He kissed me lightly and left. I cleaned up as best as I could and my maid of honor ( who had a huge grin) helped me refresh my makeup and refix my veil. Twenty minutes later I said my vows. Bad girl huh?

Oh well, I took very good care of hubby that night and to this day we have a great relationship. He just doesn't know about Kenny, then or now...as well as a few others. But variety is the spice of life!

Rina

Before I go into the details of what happened, I should probably mention a few things about my husband's best friend, Dave. I've always secretly thought Dave was gorgeous, but there was never any reason in thinking about it or bringing it to his (or Bob's) attention.

I've often tried to set Dave up with friends of mine, because he has the sort of looks and easygoing, funny personality that can win over just about any woman. However, just when things would get serious with one of my friends, Dave always seemed to find someway to sabotage the relationship so he could be single again. There's one other not-so-small detail I should mention about Dave: The huge bulge in his pants, which I've tried so hard not to notice but always find myself looking at when I get a chance to do so (and not be noticed). Now, don't misunderstand me -- I'm really not a size queen or anything like that. In fact, my husband's member is probably on the small side of average, but he is magnificent with it and always manages to get me off, usually more than once (and he's fantastic at oral sex). But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in knowing what Dave's huge cock must look and feel like. It was just something I had pushed out of my mind for all this time.

But one day, a few months back, Bob had gone out of town for a few days to attend a convention. He goes out of town two or three times a year, so this wasn't anything new -- except that this time my birthday was going to fall on one of the days he'd be gone. But I understood how important it was for him to go, and he promised to make it up to me, so I didn't really mind so much.

On the afternoon of my birthday my best friend and her husband unexpectedly dropped by with some presents and a bottle of wine. My girlfriend and I ended up drinking the entire bottle as we laughed and had a great time. As evening set in, her husband drove her home and they told me we'd all go out when Bob got back in town.

I was all ready to settle in for the evening and start running a bath when I heard the doorbell ring. I was surprised to find Dave at my doorstep with a present and a bottle of champagne. He told me happy birthday, then explained that Bob had called him and asked him to drop by for awhile so I wouldn't be alone on my birthday (Bob didn't know my girlfriend had planned to stop by earlier). I told him to come in and, although I was already quite drunk from the wine I had earlier, we opened the bubbly anyway. We had a few glasses and began talking about things. I opened my present from Dave. It was a bottle of my favorite perfume. I was pleasantly surprised he actually knew my brand (Tresor).

I can't really explain what happened next, other than to say that the alcohol probably caused it. For some reason, as Dave was telling me a really funny story, I felt this sudden wave of uninhibitedness I'd never really before experienced. He just looked so gorgeous sitting there with that grin on his face, and the alcohol (combined with an almost two-week sex drought) had me suddenly feeling very horny.

Almost without consciously thinking about it, right as Dave was in the middle of his story, I suddenly stood up in front of him and quickly removed my shirt. I have very large breasts (and I constantly receive compliments and attention from men on my face and figure) which I sort of thrust out at him in an attempt to immediately command his attention. Boy, did it work! He literally stopped in midsentence and his jaw dropped as his eyes grew to the size of silver dollars.

Still acting completely on instinct, without really thinking about what I was doing, I moved forward and rubbed my breasts in Dave's shocked face. I was momentarily jarred out of my trance when Dave actually managed to speak. He said something like "what?...No, we can't do this....No, no, no, no..."

Feeling my control of the situation suddenly in jeopardy, I responded by quickly pulling off my shorts (I had no panties on under them). My head felt like it was whirling as I stood in front of my husband's best friend completely naked and drunk on wine mixed with sexual power.

His attempts at denying the situation completely collapsed at this point, as he fell to his knees in front of me and drove his tongue into my wet pussy. I cried out with pleasure as I felt his strange tongue, so much like my husband's yet so different, squirming through my pussy hair.

I came almost immediately. He had barely even got started when I cried out in ecstacy.

Then, as I was still recovering from my state of blissful orgasm, the moment I had always wondered about finally came. Dave pulled his shirt off, then quickly undid his belt and dropped his pants. Before he even removed his boxers, I could see how huge his massive member was, now that it was completely hard.

He ripped down his shorts (as best he could having to work them down over that giant erection) and stood in front of me with the biggest hard-on I had ever seen. I can't even guess how big it was...It was huge -- and it was absolutely beautiful.

Once again, my body began doing things on its own, without my really thinking about it. I found myself on my knees in front of him, his giant cock in my hands. After studying it for a good ten seconds, I gently began to stroke it with my hand as I took the head into my mouth. I'd never been so turned on giving a man head before.

My pussy was still dripping wet -- something that normally doesn't happen when I give oral sex. I increased the speed of my stroking as I began bobbing my head to take as much of it as I could into my throat. I heard Dave moaning like an animal.

For the first time since we started, I felt a little bit of worry creep into my mind. I normally don't let Bob come in my mouth, but I was starting to think I couldn't bring myself to say no to Dave. Fortunately, I didn't have to think about it just then, because Dave suddenly pulled out of my mouth and said (almost breathlessly) "let's go upstairs."

I took him up to my bedroom where I threw myself face down on the king-sized bed Bob and I share. I felt Dave's strong hands grab my hips and pull my ass in the air. As he entered my pussy from behind, I cried out in joy (and just a little bit of pain) because I'd never felt such a huge cock inside me. It was incredible. I actually felt dizzy as he began pounding me with his gargantuan rod. He must have fucked me doggy-style, ramming me at an incredible pace for nearly thirty minutes, during which time I exploded with three orgasms. He finally slowed down a bit, and continued to fuck me for another fifteen or twenty minutes before we switched positions. He laid down on his back and I mounted his still-hard cock. I couldn't believe he could maintain an erection for this long. Bob never lasts more than fifteen or twenty minutes, but Dave seemed to have a cock made of hard granite.

I rode his cock, happy to be in control of the pace. As I began plunging downward onto him, faster and faster, I finally felt him come inside me as he basically screamed out (if I didn't know better, I would have thought he was in pain!). His orgasm caused another of my own and we collapsed together.

After lying together for a few minutes, saying nothing as we luxuriated in our feelings of pure pleasure, he crawled on top of me and I could feel that he was already hard again.

He began fucking me missionary style as he thrust his tongueinto my mouth. Although my pussy was actually starting to feel quite sore, I was still enjoying everything too much to be bothered. And this time he lasted even longer than before. He must have fucked me for a good hour straight (he would often change his rhythm from fast to slow and back again) before he came again. Although I had already come more times in one night than ever before, I still had two more orgasms before he was finally finished.

After we were done, we gently kissed and cuddled as we lay in bed together until we fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke him up by sucking his cock. This time, I actually let him come in my mouth. It was the first time I'd ever let a man do that, which I told Dave when we were done. My pussy was so sore I didn't think I could take anymore fucking for awhile.

We then showered together before he got dressed and prepared to leave. We agreed never to tell anybody about what happened (although I'm breaking my promise to him right now). We also agreed to try and never let this happen again, because we both love Bob too much to ever do anything to hurt him.

As he was leaving me with a passionate kiss, I playfully told him how good of a friend he was to Bob for coming over and making sure I wasn't lonely on my birthday. I told him that he'd given me the best birthday gift ever.

It's been several months since that beautiful night, and not a day goes by that I don't think about it. I hope I can always stay faithful to Bob and that this was just a one-time betrayal...But if I ever find myself alone again with Dave, I just don't know...

Thanks for letting me get this off my mind. Writing this confession has been very therapeutic.

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Oct 22, 2007 | 0 comments | View Post

Sex With A Ghost Can Be Quite Spirited

In the 1981 horror movie “The Entity,” Barbara Hershey’s character, Carla Moran, is repeatedly assaulted by a sex-hungry ghost that invades her Los Angeles home and plunges her into a nightmarish world full of paranormal hanky-panky.

At the time of its release, the movie was banned for its overly sensational sexual aspects, which included a scene with Hershey’s breasts pulsating rhythmically, as if being fondled by unseen spectral hands.

Compared to alleged real-life sexual encounters with ghosts, however, “The Entity” is pretty tame.

In 2001, the BBC reported on wild rumors flying around the islands of Zanzibar that a sexually voracious ghost, known locally as “Popo Bawa,” was invading people’s homes in the middle of the night and sodomizing them. Not fun.

For some, however, including the late model and reality TV star Anna Nicole Smith, sex with spirits was hot stuff, indeed.

In 2004, for example, Smith revealed to FHM magazine that: “A ghost would crawl up my leg and have sex with me at an apartment a long time ago in Texas. I used to think it was my boyfriend, then one day I woke up and found it wasn’t.”

At first, said the tragic blonde, she was terrified by the experience; however, when the sex became “amazing,” she quickly embraced the touch of her spectral stud-muffin.

And while most of us might be surprised to learn that the afterlife is packed with hot and horny spooks whose idea of entertainment is to invade our bedrooms in the middle of the night and engage in a bit of phantom fun, for professional ghost-hunter and paranormal expert Joshua P. Warren it’s all in a day’s work.

Warren is the author of numerous successful books on ghostly tales, including “Pet Ghosts,” “How to Hunt Ghosts,” “Plausible Ghosts” and “Haunted Asheville” – the latter being a study of paranormal activity in his hometown of Asheville, N.C.

“I’ve investigated six or seven cases of people claiming to have had sex with ghosts. All but one centered on women,” Warren says. “None of the women actually wanted the activity; but the one guy I spoke with was like: ‘Oh, yeah, I love this!’”

As Warren explains, your average ghost is a pretty discernible soul and tends to focus almost exclusively on hot babes: “The women who describe this are primarily attractive, young women. In the cases I’ve investigated, they ranged in age from early twenties to about 40.”

He continues: “Mainly, it’s male ghosts having sex with females."

The full-time ghost hunter reveals one of the more harrowing cases from his files.

“This is a very typical one: a young, attractive blonde woman told me how she had moved into an alleged haunted house and began to see the silhouette of a large man moving around the rooms.

“Then, after a while, she began to experience what she thought at first were very vivid, sexual dreams. She started dreaming that a large, powerful presence was on top of her and that it was undressing her. There was sexual activity, always in the missionary position; and she would wake in the morning covered in bruises and scratches.”

Warren undoubtedly became the envy of all his ghost-hunting buddies in his League of Energy Materialization and Unexplained Phenomena Research group (LEMUR), when, in his own words, the girl “asked me if I wanted to see her inner thighs and private areas.”

Despite the temptation, Warren says in deadpan fashion: “I felt I might be overstepping my boundaries as a paranormal investigator if I agreed to examine her vagina.”

Somewhat harrowing encounters aside, what of those cases where the participant found the experience to be pleasurable?

Deanna Marks, of Atlanta, Georgia, tells of an encounter she described as quite enjoyable.

My boyfriend and I have been going out for maybe 2 years now. We haven't had sexual intercourse in awhile. But, just the other night, something strange happened. We moved into a new apartment a couple of days ago. A young man use to live there but he passed away fro drug overdose. He died maybe 5-6 years ago. I was in the apartment doing things and my boyfriend called saying that he had a surprise for me when he got home from work. I didn't know what he was talking about but then it came to me that we might do something tonight.

So I got ready and was in the bedroom and turned the lights off and waited. I was in the bed, getting a little tired. I closed my eyes a bit and then started falling asleep. Then I heard the floor creak and something sitting right next to me on the bed. I asked "Is that you John?" I got no answer but then I felt a hand on my hip and a sexual arousal. I felt something touch me and then grab me. It felt so good I'll tell you that. But, it didn't feel like John. I still went along with it on account I haven't been in bed with him in awhile. I started to moan and the bed was shaking. Then it was over and I fell asleep.

When I awoke the next morning I saw John sleeping right next to me. I got up and started the day as usual. Then John came into the kitchen. I said to him "Thanks for the surprise last night..." He looked at me confused and said "I didn't get to show you the surprise. When I came into the bedroom you were fast asleep..." I was shocked! But, if that wasn't John, who was it?

I did some research on the man that used to be living in this apartment. Neighbors told me that girls would come into the apartment with him and then leave in the morning happy.

But for the most bizarre story of all that Warren has personally investigated, we have to turn our attention to the case of the “ghostly werewolf.”

He says: “This story blew my mind. It came from a woman whose property was being haunted by wolf-like animals. She went to sleep one night and woke up in the middle of the night. Standing next to her was this huge, ghostly wolf-man-type figure.

“It was large, tall, and had a big, erect penis. Well, she was instantly horrified; and when she locked eyes with him, she was petrified and couldn’t move. She told me the wolf-being said to her, in a distinct gruff voice: ‘Suck on this.’ She quickly rolled over and hid under the covers, with her heart pounding. She thought the covers would be ripped away from her and she would become his little sex toy. But he quickly vanished from the room.”

Warren has an interesting theory to account for such stories: “I’ve always wondered if these things could be energy vampires – not necessarily men or women at all, but more like incubi and succubi creatures that have been reported for thousands of years. Whereas we might eat meat and vegetables for energy, they are paranormal creatures that come into your room in the middle of the night and take energy via sex.”

As Warren notes, one of the biggest challenges facing an investigator of this particular controversy is trying to convince the victims to discuss their experiences.

“This is one of the most complex and obscure areas of paranormal research. And the reluctance that many people have about speaking with us is purely and simply due to the stigma surrounding a discussion of personal sexuality.”

IN ACCORDANCE WITH TITLE 17 U.S.C. SECTION 107, THIS MATERIAL IS DISTRIBUTED WITHOUT PROFIT TO THOSE WHO HAVE EXPRESSED A PRIOR INTEREST IN RECEIVING THE INCLUDED INFORMATION FOR RESEARCH AND EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES. SCANDALOUS! HAS NO AFFILIATION WHATSOEVER WITH THE ORIGINATOR OF THIS ARTICLE NOR IS SCANDALOUS! ENDORSED OR SPONSORED BY THE ORIGINATOR.

Oct 19, 2007 | 0 comments | View Post

Happy Halloween! Hot Sex Spells!

It's been said there's a little witch in every woman. With Halloween upon us, Scandalouswomen wants to help you channel your inner sorceress with some sexy scandalous love and lust spells that could bring you new love or some really hot sex with the man or men of your choosing. Oh, and happy Halloween, witch!

Strong Desire Sex Spell

What you will need:

* One red candle
* Lover's oil
* Lover's incense (optional)

How it works:

It is not necessary to burn incense during the spell, but it is recommended. So, if you decide to use it, start by burning the lover's incense. Then, dress the red candle with the lover's oil and say the following:

"I am possessed by the burning love for this man and this love comes to me from Apsaras, who is ever victorious. Let this man yearn for me. Desire me. Let his desire burn for me! Let this love come from the spirit and enter him. Let him desire me as nothing has been desired before. I love him, I want him. He must feel the same desire for me. O spirit of the air, let him burn with love for me."

For this spell to work, you have to say this three times a night for five straight nights.

Black Passion Lust Spell
What you will need:

* rose petals
* one red candle
* black passion incense
* an athame (ceremonial dagger)

How it works:

Make a circle with the rose petals. Use the athame to draw energy. Once this is done, you recite:

"The circle is cast and we are now between worlds, beyond the bounds of time, where night and day, birth and death, joy and sorrow meet as one. It is in this place we invoke the tantric powers of Hectate. And now we are as one. So mote it be!"

Then place the candle in the middle of the circle and visualize your lust into the candle. Say the subject's name followed by:

"And now the spell will be cast, I, (insert your name), cast a spell of lust over (insert subject's name). Let him have thoughts, wishes, and dreams of unbridled lust and passion for me, who is his lover in the ocean of time. So mote it be."

Now light the candle and say:

"And as we light this candle, it is done with no ill consequences to anyone, including ourselves."

Say your thanks, close out the spell, and wait for the magic to happen.

(From love-spells-pheromones.com)

The Lover's Brunch

This is used to arouse your lovers interest in you.

You will need these ingredients...

4 eggs
1/2 tsp. ginger
pinch of salt & pepper

Combine the ingredients in a bowl. Fill half an eggshell with water twice, pouring the water in the bowl each time. Beat the mixture until it's fluffy. Cook it in lightly buttered frying pan over low heat until the bottom of the omelette is done. With your fingernail trace your initials or name at the top of the omelette and his at the bottom. Pop it under the broiler for a moment to cook the top. Fold so that the initials are hidden.

Along with the omelette, serve a salad of bananas, peaches and pitted cherries - all of which have a power to arouse love. Hot rolls and apple butter also go along nicely (it's the apple butter with the power, especially if you made it yourself and used some of your kitchen witchery skills in the making of it!) If you can, share this omelette from the same plate for a romantic brunch! Wash your brunch down with champagne.

To Make Your Men More Passionate In Bed

Write his name on a red phallus candle, stroke it 9 times with musk oil, and then pass it through the smoke of musk incense. Light the candle once a day, letting it burn 1/2 an inch each time. When the candle is finished, wrap it in a piece of red satin and keep it under your bed for one month.

To Start A Passionate Affair With Thou Person's Desire

Select a candle of light sky blue
And cut seven notches firm and true.
Add to this seven strips of parchment paper
Placed beside thy candle taper.
Upon them scribe, both first and last
The name of the Lover bold and fast.
Fold the strips in two lengthwise
To keep the names from prying eyes.
Strike a flame and set the candle to burn
And let one strip to ashes turn.
Speak out these words seven times in all,
To summon the forces and with love enthrall:

SPIRIT OF THE DARK LOVE GODDESS DEAR,
BRING (name of desire) TO MY ARMS RIGHT HERE.
LET ME KINDLE THE FLAME OF DESIRE
AND MY LOVE ALWAYS WITH PASSION INSPIRE.

Firm thy vision of what is intended
As the candle to the first notch burns and the hour is ended.
Repeat this spell a notch each night
And one of the strips gleefully light.
With witches will and concentrated vision
Thou canst capture thy lover with precision.

Lust Spell..
(perform on Tuesday nights only)

Materials:

picture of person you desire
a red or pink candle
pen or pencil

Cast a Circle...

Invoke Venus with this chant:

Venus, Mighty one of Lust!
I call upon you with your trust
To bring this person to me now
Your fragile trust is your vow!

Light your candle and chant while visiualizing you and your desired person doing what you wish.

Chant:
(Person's desired name) please come to me
Fufill my desire successfully
I beg of you to come to me
As I will, so mote it be.

Take the picture and write your name and the desired person's name on the back ofi t. Kiss the picture, place it to your heart. Extinguish the candle, and place picture in your pillow case.

(From Spellsandmagic.com)

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Oct 19, 2007 | 2 comments | View Post

Sexual Power For Women – Chapter 1

Georgeann Cross finished writing Sexual Power for Women in 1997. No one would publish it. The reasons are left to the reader’s speculation. A few copies on loose-leaf paper have been in circulation ever since, passing from woman to woman. Now, the Scandalous Reader presents this ground breaking work on the art of sensual female domination in weekly chapters.

It was early Saturday afternoon and Patrick, my lover of two months, had just arrived in my apartment. I led him to the kitchen and we chatted while I finished putting away the dishes, then he backed me up to the counter and pressed against me as we kissed. He was horny as I had hoped, but I wanted to make doubly sure. I pulled away, opened the refrigerator, and got out a bar of Swiss dark chocolate. Positioning my behind against the counter again, I broke the end of the bar into fragments and opened the wrapper.

“Antidote for my omelet,” I explained, putting a bit in my mouth.

I took a larger piece and fed it to Patrick as he pressed against me again. I savored the bitter sweetness of the candy, the feel of Patrick’s cock straining against me through his jeans, my anticipation of what I had planned for the afternoon. When we’d swallowed, we kissed some more. It made his cock strain harder. I gave us each another dose of chocolate. Then another kiss, another bite, another kiss, another bite, until he was saturated and wouldn’t take more.

I pulled away again and put the remains of the chocolate back in the refrigerator, then looked down at the bulge in Patrick’s jeans and ran two fingers along its length.

“I know what you want.” I looked up into his eyes. “I’m going to tie you up again.”

“God! You’re kinky!”

He wasn’t objecting—had no reason to—had no idea just how kinky I was or what he was in for. He expected the same thing I’d done each of the other three times I’d tied him up, and those three occasions weren’t all that different from the nine other lovemaking sessions we’d shared so far.

“Get yourself comfortable and lie down on the bed.”

He headed for the john while I went into the bedroom and got out the restraints. The first time I’d tied him up, I told him to start with an empty bladder because it might be a while before I let him go, and he’d learned well. Now he would be gone several minutes; he was too aroused to urinate and would have to cool himself down. While I waited I undressed.

A few minutes went by and he came in carrying his clothes, his cock at rest. I was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You are beautiful!” he said, looking at me briefly. Then he busied himself setting down his things.

His clothing didn’t really need that much attention and I knew he was fussing just to control his lust; he wanted to avoid the embarrassment of letting me see his cock grow to full erection while he was still standing, especially since he knew my propensity for teasing. That shyness was one of the things that attracted me to him, just as my teasing was one of the things that attracted him to me.

“Thank you.”

I was flattered by his compliment and knew he meant it. I don’t perceive myself as beautiful, and I know I don’t conform to the standard of beauty promoted by the media, but I’ve got used to the idea that there are men who honestly see me that way and I enjoy it.

Patrick lay down on the bed and positioned himself in the middle. He knew the procedure. I took a length of nylon webbing and tied it around one wrist, using a knot that neither tightens nor comes undone when pulled. I took another length and did the same with the other wrist. Then I tied each one to a leg of the bed so his arms were fully extended to the sides.

I lay on top of him and kissed him, lightly at first, then deeply, then lightly again. His cock responded from the first.

“I love making love to you when you’re helpless like this and can’t do anything but turn on to me.”

I repositioned myself so he could eat my pussy. I straddled his face, resting one knee on either side of his head, my feet below his armpits, my hands on the headboard. I was horny myself and I knew his mouth would have to satisfy me for the day, so I was going to get all the pleasure I could from it.

Patrick had given me head several times before. Once, the last time I’d tied him up, it had been in just this position. He always did it well, and on this particular afternoon I had more than a dozen orgasms. I let him go on much longer than last time, but I doubt that it led him to suspect anything. He enjoyed my pleasure along with me, telling me sometimes when I came that I was beautiful that way, then setting out to make it happen again.

When I’d had enough and one more, I moved backward and sat lightly on his chest, supporting most of my weight on my legs.

“Like my pussy?”

“Definitely. It’s the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

“How would you like to be my love slave?”

“I don’t know. What does that involve?”

“Well, let’s see… You’ll have to be completely faithful to me and not have sex with anyone else; you’ll have to take off as much of your clothing as I tell you when we’re alone together and let me touch any part of your body any way I want; you’ll have to touch me any way I tell you, or not touch me if that’s what I say; you’ll have to let me tie you up whenever I want; you’ll have to play with yourself while I watch if I tell you; you’ll have to tell me all your secrets and fantasies… I guess that about covers it, but if I think of anything else I’ll let you know.”

I could feel his heart beat faster and faster as I spoke, and he looked absolutely panicked when I mentioned the possibility of his having to masturbate while I watched.

“Oh, yeah!” I added. “When we fuck, it’ll almost always be with me on top.”

He took a long time to answer, his heart beating so hard I could hear it.

“I like the relationship we’ve been having.”

“So do I. It’s not my intention to stop doing that. I like having you as a friend and companion, and I like us to cuddle with both your arms around me instead of tied away, but sometimes I want a sex toy I can play with just for fun.

“It’s way too kinky for my taste. You’ve got me scared half to death just talking about it.”

“I can understand your being scared; you’d be giving up a lot of control to me. But you know I’m a decent person, and you know I love you, and you must have a pretty good idea that I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”

He thought a while.

“Still, I can’t agree to that.”

“Oh, you’ll agree to it. Tied up like this, you don’t have any choice.”

“What are you going to do?” He sounded really worried.

I climbed off his chest and knelt on the floor with my upper body inclined across the bed, resting on my elbows. I stared at his cock, now just a short way from my eyes. It had been frightened back to its resting size and position.

“I’m going to play with my new toy here until you agree. You know how, once you come, your cock gets real sensitive and you need for it to be left alone for a while?”

I gave him time to say something, but he didn’t.

“Well, first I’m going to make you put on a little show for me. I’m going to play with you , and you aren’t going to be able to help but come, and I’ll get a real close-up view of how your cock does its thing.”

It grew and stiffened in response, and started to angle upwards. It was still lying against his upper thigh, but bigger than it had been, and pointed in my direction.

“I see the idea turns you on. Neat! Well, after you come, if you still haven’t promised to be my slave, I’m going to keep playing with it until you do. I don’t think it’ll take very long to convince you.”

I lubricated my index finger in the drop of fluid at the tip and slid it over the frenum. His cock jumped and came to rest against his lower abdomen, grown again to its full size.

“You were trying to hold that back, weren’t you?”

Again I gave him a chance to answer, and again he didn’t.

“See? I know how exciting this is for you. Of course if you really don’t want to be my love slave—if the idea really turns you off—all you have to do is keep from coming. After an hour or two I’ll get the message and let you go.”

I got some tissues and knelt alongside his right hip. I wiped the end of his cock, then used my thumb and forefinger to squeeze the rest of the fluid in his urethra out into one of the tissues and wiped again.

“I think you’ll agree to it though. When you’re ready, just let me know and I’ll stop what I’m doing. No sense torturing you any longer than necessary.”

I took his cock between my hands and started milking. I knew that the situation itself excited him so much, he would come in less than a minute no matter how gentle the stimulation, but I wanted to get in a few words to make sure we’d be on the same wavelength next time we saw one another.

“We’ll be doing a lot of this kind of playing, now that we both know how it turns you on. Next time we get together, I’ll probably tie your hands behind you and drop your pants first thing, then press against you and kiss you like we were doing before, until your cock is sticking straight out in front of you. Then I’ll back away and just look at it.”

I let go of his cock and stared at it.

“My sex toy!”

He had been breathing heavily, still was, and now his cock twitched its enthusiasm for my attention.

“Yummy! Nice fantasy, isn’t it?”

I waited for an answer again, still not touching him.

Nothing.

“You’re going to have to get used to sharing your thoughts and feelings with me. It’s part of being my love slave.”

Still nothing. There was no sense making an issue of it; by our next date he would have had an unbearable excess of time in which to rehearse the secrets he wanted to share with me, and he’d have plenty to say.

“I know the thought of that scene turns you on, even if you’re not used to admitting it, just like I know you’re turned on by the idea that I’m going to watch you spurt.”

I resumed my stroking.

In seconds he was panting. I felt his cock stiffen and I knew he was at the point of no return.

“You’re losing it, Patty!”

And he did. His panting turned into a stream of short cries and he dug his heels into the mattress, lifting his bottom off the bed. His cock relaxed for a fraction of a second, then stiffened again, sending a gob of come splashing onto his cheek.

“Ooh, sperm!”

I continued milking his cock, keeping pace with the rate of its throbbing.

“That must feel so good!”

After half a dozen spurts I reminded him, “Now, you just let me know when you’re ready to make that promise, and I’ll stop.”

I continued stroking at the same rate.

Even before he ran out of fluid, his breathing turned to a kind of whimpering, and the sound intensified as he realized he needed the stimulation left off. He tried twisting his lower body to get his cock out of my reach, but I followed along and continued my stroking. Soon he was squirming continuously and begging me to stop. I didn’t answer, just went on doing what I was doing, enjoying the sense of power I got from holding him in that state, loving him in his helplessness. He endured it longer than most men are able, but at last he gave in.

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it! Just stop!”

I let go as soon as the first, “I’ll do it!” registered. As I’d told him, I saw no sense in torturing him any longer than necessary. Besides, trust is essential to any good relationship, and I wanted to show him that I keep my word.

“Good. I knew you’d see it my way.”

I smiled at him, lovingly, the way I felt. He looked back at me shyly, trying to compose himself. I could see in his eyes how much in love he was, and the embarrassment he felt, and his confusion at it all.

“I got to watch your come.”

He lay there looking at me for a moment.

“I guess you did. God! I love you. I don’t know what to make of it, Georgeann, but I love you.”

“I love you too, Pat.”

I looked into his eyes a while longer, then broke away to get a towel.

“Clean you up!” I said, making a display of my thoughtfulness.

And I made the cleanup as intimate and affectionate as I knew how. First I wiped away the puddles of come, then, with short strokes, I dried and fluffed his pubic hair. After that, I squeezed the residual come out of his urethra onto the towel the way I’d got rid of the lubricating fluid earlier, and lastly I wiped the end of his cock dry again.

I put the towel aside and admired him, looking at his body, gazing into his eyes, just enjoying his company. Finally I took hold of his cock again.

“My sex toy!”

“I guess I am. I’ve never loved anyone this completely.”

“Neat! I’ll do my best to help you enjoy it.”

I undid the knots in the nylon webbing and lay down next to him. We cuddled, spoke again of our love, kissed, napped.

When we awoke, it was evening and we were hungry. We dressed and set out on our customary walk to Francescas Pizza, where we shared an agreeable dinner of Francesca’s simple but honest food. Sitting there together, we looked for all the world like a wolf guru and his brainwashed waif, except to Francesca, who knew me too well to be fooled.

Copyright © 1997 by Georgeann Cross.

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Oct 19, 2007 | 1 comment | View Post

Lunch with M

Met with M for lunch yesterday. He'd been desperate for us to have an evening together this week but it was the wrong time for me so I told him he'd have to make do with lunch.

We chatted more about work and all the changes happening more than anything else. But he kept commenting on my boots . . . I'd coincidentally worn the boots that he really likes (it wasn't an intentional thing, I wear them to work quite regularly). He kept saying how aroused he was as we talked on, and how he was becoming more and more aroused . . . eventually reaching across and stroking my hand and suggesting we take the rest of the afternoon off and find a room somewhere.

It was very flattering and quite funny (though he was deadly serious), but I told him it was just totally impractical and impossible. He pleaded that I see him next week then "for a sleep-over", but I've already arranged to visit S . . . it's half-term and his wife takes his children away for two days to stay with her parents. We haven't seen each other for quite some time and I'm quite looking forward to it actually.

Of course, I can't tell M the reason I can't see him next week but I finished our lunch with the promise that I'd see what I could arrange for the following week.

Oct 18, 2007 | 0 comments | View Post

The Secret Lives of Wives

When groups of women get together, especially if they're mothers and have been married for more than six or seven years, and especially if there's alcohol involved, the conversation is usually the same. They talk about the kids and work—how stressed they are, how busy and bone tired. They gripe about their husbands and, if they're being perfectly honest and the wine kicks in, they talk about the disappointments in their marriages. Not long ago, over lunch in Los Angeles, this conversation took a surprising turn, when Erin, who is in her early 40s and has been married for more than a decade, spilled it. She was seeing someone else. Actually, more than one person. It started with an old friend, whom she began meeting every several months for long dinners and some heavy petting. Then she began giving herself permission to flirt with, kiss—well, actually, make out with—men she met on business trips. She understands it's a "Clintonian" distinction, but she won't have sex with anyone except her husband, whom she loves. But she also loves the unexpected thrill of meeting someone new. "Do you remember?" She pauses. "I don't know how long you've been married, but do you remember the kiss that would just launch a thousand kisses?"

Erin started seeing other men when she went back to work after her youngest child entered preschool. All of a sudden she was out there. Wearing great clothes, meeting new people, alive for the first time in years to the idea that she was interesting beyond her contributions at PTA meetings. Veronica, on the other hand, fell in love with a man who was not her husband while she was safely at home in the Dallas suburbs looking after her two children. Hers is the more familiar story: isolated and lonely, married to an airline pilot, Veronica, now 35, took up with a wealthy businessman she met at a Dallas nightclub. Her lover gave her everything her husband didn't: compliments, Tiffany jewelry, flowers and love notes. It was, in fact, the flowers that did her in. Veronica's lover sent a bouquet to her home one afternoon, her husband answered the door and, in one made-for-Hollywood moment, the marriage was over. Now remarried (to a new man), Veronica says she and her friends half-jokingly talk about starting a Web site for married women who want to date. "I think there might be a market in it," she says. There is. Wives who want extramarital sex—or are just dreaming about it—can find what they seek on Yahoo!, MSN or AOL.

Popular culture has always been full of unfaithful wives, but even today's fictional cheaters share something that sets them apart from the tragic Anna Karenina or the calculating Mrs. Robinson. Their actions may cause their lives to unravel, but the new philanderers aren't victims. When, on the HBO series "The Sopranos," Carmela finally took a lover after putting up with her mob-boss husband's extracurricular antics for years, audiences cheered. (Her lover was a cad in the end, but the dalliance gave Carmela a secret source of strength.) Sarah, the heroine of this year's best-selling novel "Little Children," falls in love with a handsome stay-at-home dad she meets at the playground; the affair doesn't last, but it gives her the impetus she needs to leave her husband, a weaselly man with a fetish for the underpants of a swinger he met online. And with her role in the 2002 movie "Unfaithful," Diane Lane created an iconic new image of a sexually adventurous wife. Beautiful and well dressed, Connie Sumner has what looks like a perfect life, and she fools around not because she's miserable but simply because she can (a decision that soon makes her life a lot less perfect).

"Women always say 'thank you' for that role, and at first I wasn't sure how to take that," says Lane, who adds that the character was capable of far more denial than she could ever be. "I mean, she was cheating and lying. Then I realized it was because she wasn't a victim. She made a choice to have an affair. It's not something you often see."

Where do married women find their boyfriends? At work, mostly. Nearly 60 percent of American women work outside the home, up from about 40 percent in 1964. Quite simply, women intersect with more people during the day than they used to. They go to more meetings, take more business trips and, presumably, participate more in flirtatious water-cooler chatter. If infidelity is an odds game, then the odds are better now than they used to be that a woman will accidentally bump into someone during the workday who, at least momentarily, interests her more than her husband does. There's a more subtle point embedded in here as well: women and men bring their best selves to work, leaving their bad behavior and marital resentments at home with their dirty sweatpants. At work, "we dress nicely. We think before we speak. We're poised," says Elana Katz, a therapist in private practice and a divorce mediator at the Ackerman Institute for the Family in New York City. "And many people spend more time out in the world than with their families. I think sometimes people have the idea that [an affair] will protect the marriage." They get a self-esteem boost during work hours and don't rock the boat at home. "In some paradoxical sense this may be a respite, a little break from the marriage."

"I wasn't out there looking for someone else," says Jodie, 34, a marketing professional in Texas and mother of two. (NEWSWEEK talked at length to more than a dozen women who cheated, and none of them wanted her real name used.) Her continuing affair with a co-worker started innocently enough. She liked his company. "We would go to lunch together and gradually it started feeling like we were dating." At Christmas, Jodie asked her husband of 10 years to join her at the office party, and when he declined, the co-worker stepped in. "We just had so much fun together and we laughed together and it just grew and grew and grew until ... he kissed me. And I loved it."

It's not just opportunity that fuels the impulse to be unfaithful; it's money and power as well. American women are better educated than they've ever been. A quarter of them earn more money than their husbands. A paycheck and a 401(k) don't guarantee that a woman will stray, but if she does, they minimize the fallout both for her and for her children. The feminist Gloria Steinem once said, "Most women are one man away from welfare," but she recently amplified her views to NEWSWEEK: "Being able to support oneself allows one to choose a marriage out of love and not just economic dependence. It also allows one to risk that marriage." In other words, as women grow more powerful, they're more likely to feel, as men traditionally have, that they deserve a little bit of nooky at the end (or in the middle) of a long, busy day.

And like their fathers before them, these powerful women are learning to savor the attentions of a companion who is physically attractive but not as rich, successful—or as old—as they are. In his practice in Palo Alto, Calif., family therapist Marty Klein sees a rise in sexual activity between middle-aged women and younger men. "Forty-year-old women have more of a sense of entitlement to their sexuality than they did before the 'Hite Report,' the feminist movement and 'Sex and the City'," he says. A story currently circulating in Manhattan underscores his point. It seems that a group of 6-year-old girls from an elite private school were at a birthday party, and the conversation turned to their mommies' trainers. As the proud mothers listened nearby, one youngster piped up: "My mommy has a trainer, and every time he comes over, they take a nap." The wicked laughter this story elicits illustrates at least what is dreamed of, if not actually consummated.

The road to infidelity is paved with unmet expectations about sex, love and marriage. A woman who is 40 today grew up during the permissive 1970s and went to college when the dangers of AIDS were just beginning to dawn. She was sexually experienced before she was married and waited five years longer than her mother to settle down. She lives in a culture that constantly flaunts the possibility of great sex and fitness well after menopause. "Great Lovers Are Made, Not Born!" read the ads for sex videos in her favorite magazines; "What if the only night sweats you had came from a good workout?" ask the ads for estrogen therapy.

At the same time, she's so busy she feels constantly out of breath. If she's a professional, she's working more hours than her counterpart of 20 years ago—and trying to rush home in time to give the baby a bath. If she's a stay-at-home mom, she's driving the kids to more classes, more games, more playdates than her mother did, not to mention trying to live up to society's demands of perfect-momhood: Buy organic! Be supportive, not permissive! Lose five pounds! Her husband isn't a bad guy, but he's busier than ever, too, working harder just to stay afloat. And (this is practically unmentionable) therapists say they're seeing more cases of depressed male libido. It turns out he's too tired and stressed to have sex. An affair is a logical outcome of this scenario, therapists say: women think they should be having great sex and romantic dates decades into their marriage, and at the same time, they're pragmatic enough to see how impossible that is. Couples begin to live parallel lives, instead of intersecting ones, and that's when the loneliness and resentment set in.

Marisol can't remember the last time her husband paid her a compliment. That's why the 39-year-old grandmother, who was pregnant and married at 15, looks forward to meeting with her boyfriend of five years during lunch breaks and after work. "There is so much passion between us," she says. "He tells me my skin is soft and that my hair smells good. I know it sounds stupid, but that stuff matters. It makes me feel sexy again."

Ironically, the realities of the overprogrammed life make it easier, not harder, to fool around. When days are planned to the minute, it's a cinch to pencil in a midday tryst—and remember to wear the lace-edged underwear—at least compared with trying to stay awake and in the mood through "Law & Order." And as any guileless teenager knows, nothing obscures your whereabouts better than an Internet connection and a reliable cell phone. Amanda's husband has no idea she has six e-mail addresses, in addition to an account specifically for messages from her boyfriend Ron. Amanda, a customer-service rep in L.A., uses e-mail to flirt with Ron, then turns to her instant messenger or cell phone when it comes to setting up a rendezvous. "Text messaging is safer than e-mailing," says Amanda, 36, who's been married for eight years. What would she do without her mobile or computer? "No cell phone? I can't even imagine."

Along with its 4 million porn sites, the Internet has exploded with sites specifically for people who want to cheat on their spouses—sites like "Married and Flirting" at Yahoo, "a chat room dedicated to those who are married but curious, bored or both!!" These sites contain all the predictable pornographic overtures, but also such poignant notes as this: "Ok, I know it is late almost 11:30 my time and I am still up on this pitiful Friday night. Hubby STILL at work."

Online romances have a special appeal for married women. For one thing, you don't have to leave the house. "You can come home from work, be exhausted, take a shower, have wet, dripping hair, have something fast to eat and then, if you're feeling lonely, you can go on the Internet," says Rona Subotnik, a marriage and family therapist in Palm Desert, Calif. On the Web, women can browse and flirt without being explicit about their intentions—if they even know what their intentions are. Clicking past porn, women prefer to visit sites that dovetail with their interests, such as chess, bridge or knitting, explains Peggy Vaughan, author of "The Monogamy Myth" and host of dearpeggy.com, a Web site for people with unfaithful spouses. "They find somebody else who seems to think like they do, and then they gradually move from that to an instant message, and then they wake up one day and they cannot believe it happened to them," says Vaughan. Last year Vaughan did a survey of a thousand people who visited her Web site, and 70 percent of the respondents were women. Her results, though not scientific, are remarkable: 79 percent said they were not looking for love online. More than half said they met their online lover in person, and about half said the relationship culminated in sex. Sixty percent said their spouses had no idea.

John LaSage was shocked to come home one day and find his wife of 24 years had disappeared. No note, no phone call, nothing. He'd bought her a computer four months previously, he says, and he knew something was wrong: she'd stay up until 3 or 4 a.m., browsing online. She told him she was doing research for a romance novel she was writing, he says, and after her disappearance, he hacked into the computer to investigate. "She had set up a chat room that was called ... gosh ... 'Smooth Legs.' And so guys would come in there and flirt with her. I have transcripts. I can't tell you how excruciating it was to read the e-mails from people supposedly speaking with my wife, but she wasn't talking like my wife. That was just weird." Two weeks later he discovered she had left the country, he says. "I wasn't the perfect husband. I would have done a lot of things differently, but I never got the chance," says LaSage, who has since founded an online support group for people with spouses who stray.

Originally from Newsweek

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Oct 15, 2007 | 0 comments | View Post
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