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Sexy Supplements

Your mama always told you to take your vitamins, but she was probably thinking about building strong bones, not gettin boned! A kickin' sex drive heavily depends on eating healthy and consuming the proper recommended daily allowance of vitamins and minerals essential for jump starting a waning libido. Read on, Scandalouswomen, and get those juices flowing - every last one of them!

Vitamin B6

Think of this supplement as the protector of all that is good and right in the world. You see, B6 decreases the production of prolactin, a pesky, evil little hormone that reduces sex drive.

Vitamin B3

Feeling nostalgic for that newly deflowered post - orgasmic glow? Then chew a B3 which is a fast-acting aphrodisiac in pure form and produces a flush similar to the one you get after intercourse.

Vitamin C

This dynamo is essential for healthy, no-clumping sperm. Give a tab to your man if you like his love juice like we like our coffee - extra creamy.

Vitamin E

If the hormones you have are feeling a little over¬worked and need some company, swallow some E which plays a key role in the manufacturing of testosterone and estrogen.

Calcium

This little wonder is not just needed for strong teeth and bones, but for strong orgasms too! This mineral plays a crucial role in muscle contraction during your climactic moments.

Copper, Iodine, Iron, Manganese and Potassium

Too tired to have sex? Nonsense! Let your inner nympho shine by getting plenty of these minerals which will help fight fatigue and low sex drive.

Magnesium

This mineral serves up the full meal deal! Its like a sex¬ual smorgasbord, serving a three-course feast in the form of sexual sensitivity, ejaculation and orgasm. Yummy!

Phosporus

If either one of you is going limp due to extended foreplay followed by lack of results, then grab some phosphorous, which is necessary for maintaining sexual arousal.

Taken from Increase Your Sex Drive by Dr. Sarah Brewer

Aug 27, 2010 | 0 comments | View Post

Finding comfort . . . with D

After our slow start, D is certainly finding his feet in our relationship now.

He’d asked to meet me again on Wednesday, but as I had some errands to attend to after work I told him I would meet him at his tube station around 8.30. I was leaving the office early, but thought I wouldn’t be home until after 7 and I wanted time to shower and change.

It seemed to take me much longer to do my make-up than I would normally spend, (I told myself it was because I was at home and not hurrying over the basin in the office washroom), and then even longer to choose what to wear. I wasn’t happy with any of my choices really but was running out of time as I had to get a bus and then tube . . . but as I was leaving J arrived home and said he’d run me to D’s station (after I’d explained exactly why I didn’t want D to come over and pick me up in “broad daylight”.) I got J to drop me at the turning before the station just in case D was already parked in the station car-park. J was laughing at my sillyness and the “role reversal” of a wife having to hide the fact from her lover that her husband was dropping her off. I giggled as I kissed him goodbye . . . he was right of course, but I thought it would be a bit off-putting for D if he had seen how I was arriving. I needn’t have worried, it was another 10 minutes before D’s car pulled into the car park.

We chatted as we drove to his house. I’m always a little self-conscious, as we turn into his drive, in case we should see my friend in next door’s house (especially as the evenings are still so light at the moment). But there was no sign. He poured me some wine in the kitchen and immediately started kissing and caressing me. “Shall we go upstairs?” he asked excitedly. I teased that he always used to invite me out for dinner and now he just couldn’t wait to get me into his bedroom. He stopped and pulled away with a worried look for a moment . . . until I kissed and bit gently on his ear “perhaps we can have nibbles afterwards”.

Just two weeks ago he would have been slow and nervous to undress me, and especially himself. Now as we rolled back onto the bed, his hands were already sliding up under my blouse. As we undressed each other in between kisses and caresses we slid ourselves more into the centre of the bed. He’d told me last weekend how much he loved my legs and started stroking my thighs up and down again. I’ve never had anyone remark so much about my legs before. I’ve had compliments about my bottom and breasts etc., but never really about my legs. (J has just reminded me that he’s always liked me “in short skirts, you used to wear mini-skirts a lot”. I reminded him back that, that, was a long long time ago!!!).

It was nice for D to be paying me so much attention there, especially as his kisses started sliding over to my tummy and lips. He’d loved it last week when I’d showed him where I love being kissed . . . and, then . . . licked. He’d told me his wife had never wanted to do that “either way”, even before her illness. I told him how much I liked it though, and it felt naughty, and arousing, to be showing him again. I was really beginning to enjoy the feelings when he pulled himself up on me though. I’d tried holding him on his hips last week to try make him slow down. (J had told me I should just tell him . . . and normally I would . . . but with D it doesn’t seem so easy, or somehow quite appropriate just yet, to be so forward).

Afterwards we lay together with him stroking my arms and kissing my neck and shoulders again. Telling me how wonderful I was, how beautiful, how soft . . . it is nice, and flattering, to hear his soft voice telling me these things. I can’t help myself, I do like it, it does make me feel special . . . especially as I know that, in this instance, he really does mean the things he is saying. It’s not just words from someone who feels he “has to” say those things because of the circumstances, with D I know, I can tell, that his words are sincere. (Sometimes with V for instance, I wonder . . .)

His stroking was beginning to make me sleepy, as it had last weekend, so I lifted myself up and excused myself to the bathroom. As I returned he sat up as though to roll me back down on my back again but I pushed him down instead and knelt over him and leant forward to let him kiss me. I rubbed my breasts over his chest and as our kiss became more passionate I could feel him twisting and squirming beneath me. I felt his erection brush against my knee as I shifted my leg to get myself more comfortable. He was gasping “God, god”. I pulled away to ask what was wrong. He said he’d never been able to get hard again before. I pushed him back by his shoulders and slid down over his tummy. He was gasping louder as I sucked over him. His hips were shaking and thrusting though so I pulled my mouth away. I knew I could always slow J down by sitting over him and rubbing down on his chest, so I lifted myself up further to try the same position with D. He was holding me around the waist as I rubbed myself over his tummy, leaning forward to kiss at him and flick my tongue into and out of his mouth. I could feel his erection against me as I slid my hips back. I lifted up and reached back with one hand to guide him in. I love looking down, seeing my breasts hanging and bobbing, and lifting my pussy up and down, watching it lift up off, and then slide back down, onto his cock. His hands were on my hips now and he was gasping loudly and pushing up with slapping thrusts. I knew this certainly wasn’t slowing him down . . . I lifted off him and then slid further down, rubbing my tummy over his willy. He came again, this time making much louder groans. I wiped my boobs down and up over him. Sliding back onto his chest and resting down on top of him in an embrace. We rolled onto our sides and he was whispering apologies for being “so quick again”. As we rocked gently back and forth I had to “ssshh” him from saying more silly things. We eventually stopped our rocking and lay cuddled side-by-side. Despite myself, I fell asleep. I’d had virtually nothing to drink, and nothing at all to eat, but just the warmth of our cuddling and his gentle, relaxing stroking on my back, and we both dozed off.

It wasn’t a deep sleep, and not for long, but I awoke to his kissing and whispers . . . and his hand sliding down between my legs. I pulled it gently away. “But you haven’t . . .” I stopped him with a quick, closed kiss. “I need to be getting home” I told him. He pointed out that it was still early, but I knew I’d lost my mood now. Not because of anything he’d done, or hadn’t done, just that feeling of uncomfortableness about being here in “their” bedroom again. I’d felt it on the weekend as well. It’s just strange, and different . . . and something not easy to explain. I used to have the same feelings with S when I first started seeing him. Being in his house, being in his bedroom, in his bed. And knowing his wife, even seeing her quite often at the school, or at the local shops. With D it should be different. He no longer has a wife . . . and yet every so often, I get these little bursts of her still being here. He has photographs of her everywhere of course. In the bedroom, the front room, even in the bathroom. But it’s not actually for that reason that I feel sudden rushes of unease. It’s something else, and not often before, or during, but afterwards . . . and I was feeling it now.

We dressed and went downstairs. He kept apologising and I could tell he thought I was upset, or worried, for a completely different reason. I was trying to explain that sometimes I just suddenly lose my mood and no longer feel like touching or kissing, or . . . I couldn’t actually bring myself to tell him what was really on my mind. I knew J would be waiting on the sofa at home, and here I was sitting in D’s kitchen drinking tea, and eating biscuits and it was gone midnight. But we talked, and talked . . . and talked more on the drive home. He is such a sweet and reserved person and I feel so happy now that he seems to understand the warmth and emotion and fulfilment that J and I have, and understands that we can all occasionally enjoy such pleasure and excitement and love for each other . . . I just hope that she can understand as well.

Best wishes – Edith

Aug 22, 2010 | 0 comments | View Post

Switch-Not So Bad After All

Today my two friends took me out to dinner and forced (for lack of a better term) me to go and see the new Jennifer Aniston movie, Switch. I was really hesitant about seeing the movie because I really had heard nothing about it other than the fact that her character was trying to have a baby on her own. I was hesitant about the movie because I had this idea in my mind that at some point in the movie that she was going to meet a man who would change her mind about having a baby, sweep her off her feet and save the day by getting her prego.

For the first ten minutes I was anticipating just how much I would be able to take before walking out and sitting in the car for it to end. I didn't much care for the silly jokes in the beginning of the movie, but after a bit I settled in and figured that it wasn't so bad after all.

What I enjoyed about it was that she did choose a sperm donor although her male best friend and other people urged her against doing it. It really was a delight seeing a movie where a woman chose to be a single mother. And although the movie ends with the typical happily ever after type of plot that is typical of these movies, I also really enjoyed that the supposedly dorky guy with the quirky and neurotic behavior came in first place.

Although this isn't necessarily the type of movie that I am really drawn to, I'm glad that I made it past the first ten minutes and finished watching it.


Aug 21, 2010 | 0 comments | View Post

Another Jinxy and hub co-blog.

One of my favorite YouTuber’s, sxephil (who has new episodes weekly, Monday through Thursday), talked about something this week that really got me thinking.  Dangerous, I know!  Every year a certain college releases a study on cultural “touchstones” that effect college students in their lifetime.  The students entering college this year were born in 1992!  Few of them know how to write in cursive, food has always been irradiated, and it seems that the Post Office has always been going broke. 

I bet you’re wondering, so how does all that relate to the usual topics of this blog?  It sparked a discussion with hubby on how these young whippersnappers think.  How they aren’t as hindered by the way their parents think and feel.  They don’t use their parents past to pave an exact path for their future.  I have always thought a little differently than the rest of my family, even if I wasn’t as verbally expressive about it as I think I should have been.  Growing up in the Bible Belt, you’re expected to think and feel a certain way.  Growing up in the South means you are redneck and intolerant of interracial relationships and even homosexuality. 

The world is constantly changing, as is the way that people think.  It seems that the “younger generation” is much more open in their ways of thinking than their parents and the generations prior to them.  They aren’t as quick to condemn someone for being a little different.  Because of their openness and willingness to explore things different from them, some of the “older generations” are starting to adopt that line of thinking and not be too quick to judge.   Some of the lifestyle choices that were frowned upon not even 20 years ago are so widely accepted now, no one gives them a second thought.   I saw a bumper sticker the other day that said “A mind is like a parachute. It doesn’t work if it isn’t open”.  Bumper sticker wisdom aside, it’s still true and more and more people are open minded not because they were taught to be, it’s just they never thought about being anything else.

I know I talk a lot about open mindedness but I think it’s an issue that can use as much publicity as possible. The world is so full of intolerance towards things that really don’t matter that much. Look at prop 8, Homosexuals wanted the right to get married, to be able to show their love for one another in a bond, get insurance breaks, have the next of kin they picked, enjoy a ceremony that probably costs way too much, get joint checking accounts, and for that matter make sure they get half on the off-chance the other person runs away with the UPS guy/girl. They weren’t asking for the right to go to your kid’s high school and attempt to convert them. The point is, what doesn’t hurt you – well, doesn’t hurt you. Everything happens a lot slower than you realize while you’re living it, but when you look back it really didn’t take that long. We have a black President. You can say almost anything short of the word “fuck” on television, and for that matter there’s almost any form of undress short of actual nudity. In most places interracial couples go about their business and no one cares or gives them a second look. That’s not to say that the world doesn’t have its share of prudes; there are still those so offended by nudity they feel they should impose their views on everyone because their way of thinking is the only right way. This is how it will always be; it’s their right to have those views. That doesn’t mean the rest of us should give up on how we feel.

Marriages are different now as well.  You rarely heard of swingers when I was growing up, and when you did it was in a negative light.  Now, I know quite a few of them, even ones I didn’t suspect were kinky! These days younger couples are more experienced with their sexuality and men and women alike are more open to try to push the limit of their sexual comfort zones, whether it be swinging, threesomes, cuckolding, role playing, and even homoeroticism. What can we all learn from this generation? (A generation that I should add is still producing lawyers, doctors, nurses, accountants, politicians, solders, business men and women, teachers, etc.) Just because these people have a different view on sex doesn’t mean their morals are corrupt or that they don’t have the ability to lead a company, or help others in need.

Sexuality has been a touchy subject for thousands of years; horny women were thought to be hysterical in Victorian times. During these times women cuckolded their husbands with their doctors, who would provide them with “medically” induced orgasms to “treat” them. Why did they? The same reason women still do today, because their husbands were either always busy, they weren’t able to satisfy them, or they wanted a little variety without the guilt.  

So let’s all do something, I know I don’t usually ask for reader response and I am curious as to how much I will actually get. I know I have lots of readers that aren’t necessarily into the cuckolding world, but are into some type of kink or fascinated with their sexual limits.

How is your life better or just different since you made the decision to let go of your sexual inhibitions? If you would please let me know your age range (in groups of 18-25, 26-25, 35-50, or 50 plus), your gender, and a little about yourself and your sexual lifestyle.

Aug 21, 2010 | 0 comments | View Post

Writing Opportunity

Hi all-

I've been off this blog for a bit since I've been working on other web projects elsewhere. There's a particular project that I have been brainstorming with my partner for quite a bit of time, and now we are ready to get started on this one starting next week!

I've mentioned in the past that I was financing a project and that we might need writers for it. So the time has come! Being the kind of "everything is done so much better as a team" kind of gal, I've decided to open the idea up to others that I know on twitter and in the blogosphere who might be interested in getting in on the action. Here is my idea:

We are creating a website about a certain topic (and if you are interested in participating, I will give you more information). I'm financing the site, the design and the marketing piece, and I will also be creating certain products on the site as well as writing and editing. My partner will be writing, editing and coordinating all aspects of the collaborative writing team.

As we are getting started, we wanted to invite interested writers to join us for our launch! My instincts and research are telling me that with the right people on board, that we can create a successful website. So, we are going to pick a handful of people to first start as writers with us because we will be able to generate more content, and the site will receive more exposure if multiple people are also tweeting about it, etc. Since we are just starting out, our primary source of revenue will be google adsense ads and other forms of advertising (which we've been pretty successful on with a couple of other sites that we have been working on).

In a nutshell, we will provide topics to write about (and we will first start with a huge series of biographies) and we will also accept suggestions from writers. We will code all ads that are included on your page with your name and you will receive 70% of all revenue generated from the ads on the pages that you write. The more people that we have involved, the more opportunities for promotion--the more people who visit the site will click around on the various pages and click different ads.

If you are interested, please leave a comment here with your email (I won't publish it), send me a message on twitter if you follow me, or email me at badassfemmes@yahoo.com.

You don't have to be a great writer initially because my partner will help edit some of the work. You don't need experience. You just need to be dedicated and have patience because you will not become a millionaire over night. Oh, who am I kidding, you will never be a millionaire-it's writing. The more that there are of us, the more opportunity for growth and revenue there will be and we will also be able to work together and network with one another in order to improve our writing. My partner and I eventually plan on also creating a private writer's forum for some of us to work together and help one another.

A couple of final things: We will retain the copyright to the material that is written and the content can't be published elsewhere on the web because it will penalize the site in search engines. You can write with no name attached, or you can create a bio with a link back to your site if you would like. You probably won't make more than $500 for a while, but when you do if you plan on making more then you will need to fill out a W2 form to receive further payment which will be paid through paypal or elance.com.  In addition to the revenue generated from the writing, we also have many opportunities planned for additional opportunities to generate revenue and receive bonuses, although these opportunities will take backseat to getting the site up and running.

We're looking for people who want to belong to a community, where we are all working together to promote the pages that we are all writing because this is a collaborative effort! We've experienced success in the past with promoting sites on certain social networks like digg and reddit, so we are also looking to work with our writers to effectively use these sites to promote one another. If you are interested, please contact me soon because we will be starting the project formally next week!! Thanks!! I hope some of you are interested!!


Aug 19, 2010 | 0 comments | View Post

How Intellectuals Get Freaky

It’s S&M for Ph.D.s: Cuckolding, in which men watch their wives have sex with other guys, is catching on among people with high IQs who revel in the psychological agony.

When he hears his wife moan with pleasure while she has sex with another man, Paul Pines feels bad—then good. When Paul’s wife tells him that the other man is much better at sex than he ever was, Paul feels worse—then better. But of course he does: He arranged this encounter, in which he watches in agony as his wife makes love to another guy. And almost as soon as it’s over, he’ll start planning the next one.

Cuckoldry is defined as a wife’s infidelity. Chaucer and Shakespeare characterized it as the ultimate shame. So perhaps it’s no surprise that today it’s developed into a fairly popular fetish. The Internet is rife with husbands enthusiastically soliciting other men—often larger, hotter, sexier men than themselves—to have sex with their wives while they watch.

This isn’t like swinging, and it’s not a threesome. Cuckolded men (aka "cucks") only observe their wives’ infidelities, they don’t participate. And that's why they find it a turn-on: They're left out, looking on as the woman they love climaxes with a better man than them. It’s a form of psychological sadomasochism. Some people get turned on by whips, chains, and physical pain. Cucks get aroused by mental anguish.

Cuckolding is rapidly emerging as the alt-sex fetish of choice for American intellectuals. Continue Reading.

Aug 17, 2010 | 0 comments | View Post

Finally . . . and just had to quickly post

After two awkward evenings with D, I was feeling a bit “different” about both our (J and mine) lifestyle, and more particularly about posting details about the “other” men in my life. And I certainly wished I hadn’t been so open about things with D. I had thought that it might make him feel more at ease about our coffee meetings and my agreeing to go out with him for dinner and then to his house. But, actually I was wrong, it made things much more difficult and complicated . . .

In the week before I’d met again with S, I had accepted D’s offer of dinner at his house again. His daughter was now away on her travels, and after our passionate kisses in his car on our last meeting I was actually quite aroused and expectant now that we’d “broken the ice”. Dinner was nice, and I didn’t break any glasses, and we did end up on the sofa together . . . but I could tell D was nervous and when he started asking questions again, about my “other men” I found myself getting nervous and anxious as well. At first I tried quick replies and various attempts to change the subject away from personalities and how long I’d known them etc. I tried telling him we’d been over all of this before and that I didn’t want to talk about it, that it wasn’t about comparisons . . . it was just about fun and something a little different and exciting in all our lives. I told him that I liked him, that I wanted “to be here with you, otherwise I wouldn’t have said yes to dinner”. The conversation twisted and turned and went on for what seemed like hours. Full of awkward silences and shrugs and gestures and . . . eventually I had to reach over to him and start kissing him to bring us closer together. Our caresses were as awkward and inconclusive as our conversation though and eventually ended with both of us apologising and agreeing that “things didn’t seem right”.

He drove me home and I spent another hour laying in bed with J talking through the whole evenings conversation and telling him (to his disappointment) that “I just don’t feel sexy tonight”. All J could say was “you can’t fancy someone because you feel sorry for them” and when I said that D had asked me in the car if I would give him “another chance and can we meet again next week?” J got annoyed and told me that there was no point if it was going to be just another evening of questions and answers. “If you want him, just rip his clothes off like you have with S and get it over with for god’s sake”. Then I got annoyed at J and told him it wasn’t as easy as that.

D did call me the next morning to apologise and say he wanted to see me again that evening. When I said I couldn’t he asked “what about Thursday then?” I told him I would only come round for “drinks, not dinner and only if you promise absolutely no questions!” He picked me up the next evening and although I couldn’t follow J’s advice as we walked into his hallway, we were soon embracing on the sofa. This time things did progress and he undressed me and I was beginning to get quite aroused at his comments and compliments . . . but it was taking me a long time to persuade him to undress as well . . . I eventually did manage to get him to slide off his trousers and his boxers and unbutton his shirt. But he became embarrassed that “things weren’t happening”. I tried to help and tried to reassure him . . . and suggested we stop for awhile. I topped-up our drinks and knelt down on the floor in front of him, but he pulled me back up onto the sofa and said the more he tried to think about it, the more he knew he wasn’t going to be able to do it.

I asked him if he would give me a massage instead, and lay down on my tummy on the sofa. He was actually very good at it and I found it relaxing and, for a while, quite a nice feeling having my shoulders kneaded and squeezed. I’d hoped his hands would start to slide further down though, but they didn’t. I turned over on my back and pulled him down to kiss, telling him how nice it was. I rolled his shirt off his shoulders and he pulled each arm out awkwardly. When I tried to slide my hand down between us though, he wouldn’t lift up and let me touch him. Eventually he stood up apologising and telling me how sorry he was, and that he knew he couldn’t get aroused. He was embarrassed, and apologising and started getting dressed again. I felt embarrassed myself, and really just didn’t know how to react. I was mumbling things like “let’s just sit back down again for a while” and “we’re both probably just trying too hard”. I felt confused and almost ashamed myself. I pulled my dress back on and found myself agreeing when he asked “should I take you home now?”.

We hardly said a word as he drove me home, but then once he’d parked we suddenly started kissing and squeezing each other . . . each of us apologising, and each of us saying how much we’d wanted it to happen. He told me he couldn’t stop thinking he’d never be good enough, and how he thought about me all the time when he was on his own and always managed to get erect. But now, when he’d actually been with me . . .

J was waiting for me in the front room when I eventually walked in. His face dropped and he shrugged and said all the wrong things when I started telling him what had happened. Another night of disappointment for him and me telling him I wasn’t in the mood . . .

And my mood lasted, (apparently), for over a week!! And then I saw S . . . and suddenly everything seemed right again. It had been wonderful with him, and really wonderful with J, and I felt good about myself again. That whole weekend afterwards with J had been simply wonderful, telling each other how lucky we are to have our relationship. How lucky I was to be allowed the freedom to do the things I do occasionally, and how doing those things just seemed to make our love even stronger and better and more passionate. I know that in J’s arms I can say “I love fucking S and I love fucking V” and J will squeeze and kiss me back and say “and I love you loving fucking them”. And we would laugh, and cuddle, and kiss . . . and . . .

I’d called D the following morning after he’d dropped me home that evening. I’d told him I wanted to see him again that perhaps we could have coffee on Saturday. We did, we had coffee together, shopped together, he said he’d call me. He didn’t. So eventually I called him, I told him what I’d told J after our week of post-S, that I still wanted to see him. His voice went quiet on the phone. I asked if he was still on his own. He said he was “for another two weeks”. I said “but I can’t wait that long”. He asked when I was free, I told him “all day this Saturday”.

He picked me up from the station and as we drove I told him that I enjoyed his company, that I liked him as a person, that I wanted to be with him, and that I didn’t want to talk about anything in the past. That I wanted us to start all over again, as though we were meeting for the “very first time today.”

We kissed inside his front door and he started to lead me towards the front room . . . I pulled him back by his hand. “I’ve been here three times and you’ve never shown me the bedroom” . . .

That was yesterday . . . and today I feel as happy, and wonderful, and excited as I am when I come home from a meeting with S or with V . . . I want to shout it out, that everyone should be able to have those freedoms, those feelings, that warmth and that love . . .

Best wishes – Edith

Aug 15, 2010 | 0 comments | View Post

Brains = the most powerful tool…

I’ve had the pleasure of speaking to some of you fine folks over the phone in the past month and a half.  I appreciate each and every phone call!  People make comments about how “factual” I am or how “sharp” I sound, and all of that makes me feel so good, but what people don’t seem to realize is that I see each of these phone calls as a learning opportunity.  I can learn about the relationships of others that are either interested in or have been actively in cuckolding relationships, and see how those differ from my own experiences.  Taking these calls is a very bright spot in my day!  And even though I ask for ratings and feedback, more than half the callers don’t do such, even though it’d boost my ratings a bit and make me look more credible on paper. (haha)

Anyway, I’ve had a couple callers asking about my sex life with my husband.  Hey, if I’m an open book just about everywhere else, why would I censor myself on the phone?  Something they seem to be extremely curious about is, do I still enjoy sex with him?  To which I reply, we have our own way of doing things and while it may not always be penetrative sex, it’s still sex to us.  But that doesn’t mean he’s never inside of me, or that those times he happens to be in me that I hate every second.  Quite the opposite, actually.  Let me explain…

Sex feels good on a physical level.  Different partners create different feelings, right?  Due to size, technique, whatever.  So how do you still enjoy sex with a partner that’s not as large as the others?  You can mentally take yourself to higher levels.  Oh yes, my friends, I’m a firm believer that an orgasm can be just as much a mental thing as a physical thing.  I’m not alone in this belief, either. 

After talking to many different guys about this theory, I did some actual research on the web.  What I found was quite interesting, many of the articles or websites claiming to deal with this fact are truly only trying to help males bring their female partners to orgasm through physical stimulation.  Nothing wrong with that, mind you!  The more a guy knows, the better he’ll be at this. But there was one article that stands out, one that is dealing with the theory of orgasms being a mental thing, not just physical. 

It has come to public knowledge that there are some women out there that can either voluntarily or involuntarily bring themselves to orgasm just by thinking. There is a study being done by a Dr. Komisaruk, author of The Orgasm Answer Guide.  This doctor is using MRIs to study brain activity during a female’s orgasm.  I find it quite fascinating!  Especially since preliminary results are that women that can bring themselves to orgasm from mental stimulation show the same brain activities as those that are being physically stimulated to achieve orgasm.  Pretty cool, huh? 

 I’ve personally found these mental orgasms to be quite intense, much moreso than physically-driven ones.  You talk with your partner about fantasies, about what you’ve been feeling, and you can just close your eyes and be there mentally.  Your breath becomes quicker, heart rate increases… and before you know it, you’ve brought yourself (yes, with the assistance of your partner) to that happy orgasmic place.  Hub’s getting pretty good at helping me get there mentally.  Why would I turn down an opportunity to feel good? ;)

That being said, it is very possible for me to enjoy sex with my husband and his smaller-than-average endowment.  So why do I continue to cuckold him?  Well, it’s not solely about sex.  Don’t get me wrong, that’s a big part of it, the physical acts of sex are much quicker than becoming aroused through mental stimulation.  It’s about differences in partners and experiences.  Not many guys will do things in a similar manner… they have different personalities, sexual demeanor, and of course sizes.  But this is also about control and power.  Being a Cuckoldress puts the woman in charge of certain aspects of the relationship, a power she may have never realized she could have over her man.  It’s about fantasies being fulfilled.  The cuck dreams about watching his lady with another man… the Cuckoldress may dream about multiple partners at a time, or one partner in particular, or being in exotic locations… who knows?  Fantasies are fun to talk about and to play out.  This is also about freedom!  As a Cuckoldress, I am free to have the type of sexual lifestyle that many women dream of, and that many men want their wives or girlfriends to have.  I get to be as choosy as I want, picking partners that meet my standards.  Or if I just want to sit back and snuggle with my hubby, I have every freedom to do such.

Back to the topic at hand, I have one last statement regarding mental orgasms.   Ladies:  If you’ve never had one, you should really try it. Might be the best one you’ve had that didn’t require another individual! ;)

Aug 11, 2010 | 0 comments | View Post

I Can’t Get This Crazy Out of My Soul

Last night something really dysfunctional happened to me and I came home and wrote a blog post about it. However, I was so disgusted by what had happened that I erased it. But right now on twitter I saw a tweet about a video that just literally gave me chills on my arms, and I suppose that I feel compelled to write about it.

I have a seriously dysfunctional part of my self that I have tried to erase over the years and have managed to keep buried. That part of myself pops up every once in a while when its triggered by a certain event or type of person.

This part of my personality is probably related to the way that I was raised, in a house full of mental, physical and emotional abuse by a mentally ill mother. It probably also has to do with being raised in a neighborhood marked by severe gang violence, where our disputes were settled with fists or weapons. Over the years it has taken tremendous self discipline and self introspection to not want to settle a disagreement with a punch in the face.

But something that I have never been able to get rid of, nor do I want to, is my attraction to all things dark, painful and macabre. I've always been drawn to suffering and pain in all of its representations-art, music, literature, poetry, movies, and other forms. Perhaps it's a result of my catholic upbringing where the "suffering is beautiful" mentality grew in my mind. It's not that I want pain in my life, or pain in my relationships, but for some eerie reason I just feel that there is something beautiful and liberating about seeing other people in pain. I'm attracted to representations of the tormented soul.

When I was in high school and slightly beyond, I was in an extremely dysfunctional relationship. Jesse was a brilliant artist, musician, song writer, poet, writer, and performer. I was drawn to his creativity and intelligence, and since then I have never met another human soul who posses his intelligence and artistic creativity. Over the years, he became addicted to alcohol, drugs, sex and other risky forms of behavior that only seemed to fuel his artistic brilliance.

Needless to say, our relationship spiraled out of control and I just couldn't break lose. The more dysfunctional it got, the more creative I felt and the more fodder I had to write and paint about. There was nothing so intoxicating to me as expressing the inner most depths of the agony that existed in my (or his) soul. During those years, I created more poetry, writing and paintings than I ever have in my entire life.

Our dysfunction finally reached a point where one night I walked away with a broken hand from punching him and a bruised neck from being choked. Well, I didn't actually walk away, rather escorted away by the police. Hours later the telephone rang with his voice on the other end calling from jail and it was then that I finally decided to change my life. I walked away and never looked back.

Over the years I have had my share of dysfunction, but I have managed to try to erase that secret part of myself that comes out when provoked by people of a certain nature. I did my share of crazy stuff as a young adult to my current boyfriend but it never managed to escalate due to his gift at being able to deescalate conflict.

Flash forward to 2010, when my old high school boyfriend shows up on my door to apologize due to one of the steps in his 12 step program for sobriety. He has managed to completely overhaul his life and although I should have been wary about his ability to quit drugs but not alcohol, I was still compelled to meet with him for dinner to catch up on his art and writing.

It's been a decent six months, where we have remained friends and I have been once again drawn to his brilliance and creativity. My boyfriend has told me that I am an idiot, that it is only a matter of time before I morph into a wacko and knock him over the head with a bottle or something, but I became convinced that twenty years have passed and that we are both different people.

And then last night happened-a lovely night of sushi with my friend and the ex. Somewhere along the line my intuition told me that something bad was going to happen and I should have listened to my gut that we should not have started drinking sake. Hours later, my intuition was affirmed when a minor argument about me being too dominant erupted into a scuffle. Luckily the "red alert" button in my brain told me to get my purse and go immediately because one of us would sooner of later end up bleeding or in jail.

I'm disgusted with myself is all I have to say. I think that I knew deep in my heart all along that it would end up like this, but I didn't listen to my gut because I was so attracted to the allure of his creativity. However, this man brings out the crazy in me that wants to break his nose and see blood running down his face and onto his shirt. I want to seriously hurt him when something that he does or says triggers violence in me.

This is not the person that I want to be. And I know that I should never speak to him again if I want to really erase this part of my personality that I hate so much. I've often wondered if this part of me exists because I was a victim for so many years until one day a counselor told me to hit my mother back and defend myself when she was hurting me. So, I started hitting her back and hitting him back when they hurt me.  Yet now I see that I have become them and I want it to go away.

So this leads me to the video that I saw on twitter today-a video that literally gave me chills and raised the hair on my arms. The video is repulsive to me because I have lived a similar life with my ex where I wasn't so much of a victim, but where we were BOTH victims of one another. I'm repulsed because I know exactly what "I like the way it hurts" means. The video makes me sad that there are young women who are watching this who might be taught that this type of relationship is normal.  But the video also relieves me that I am no longer willing to put myself in this type of situation, no matter how much I am attracted to the brilliant and alluring flames of certain people.


Aug 07, 2010 | 0 comments | View Post

Making up for lost time with S . . .

It had been two months since I’d last met with S . . . he’d been away and with all sorts of family commitments for the both of us, we’d just been unable to arrange compatible dates. We still spoke regularly on the phone of course, he phones me at least twice a week when he knows I’m on the bus on my way to work. Eventually we’d been able to arrange a date for last Wednesday. I took a change of clothes, and shoes, into work as I normally do, but still wasn’t feeling those tingles of anticipation that I usually feel, even as I washed and changed after everyone else had left the office. Instead I felt strangely apprehensive and nervous . . .

We’d agreed to meet at our normal Italian, and as soon as I walked in to find him smiling and waiting, I suddenly felt completely at ease. We stood kissing passionately, the two owners laughing at us as they’ve always greeted us as “Mr & Mrs”, and S noticed their startled looks and teased that it was a “special night”. They immediately assumed something that it completely wasn’t . . . but told me I should order my wine “on the house” . . . an offer which, of course, I gratefully and gigglingly accepted. I slapped S playfully on the wrist as we sat down and told him he was “so naughty”. He laughed and whispered his reply “I hope to be”.

It was such a lovely meal, catching-up on his family holiday stories, his work and everything else that we’d both been doing and had only had the chance to briefly talk about in our phone conversations. He was driving of course and so had me finish almost the whole bottle by myself. How could I refuse!!!

We left with the owner and his wife clapping us out the door . . . and us both laughing and hugging each other down the street as I admonished S for his deceit. Our cuddles continued after we’d reached his car, turning into more passionate kisses and his hands sliding up under my top and making me gasp and squirm as he pinched and played. I managed to retain some sort of composure despite my light-headedness and arousal and eventually persuaded him to “drive”. It’s only a short distance to “our” hotel and his hands and lips returned to their wandering as soon as he’d parked. I told him I had to shower and that he was wasting valuable time (punctuating what has now become our favourite personal phrase, with a more colourful emphasis!)

I had to remind him of the same phrase again as we entered our room and he tried to pull me straight to the bed. “I have to have a shower!” He followed me into the bathroom and “helped” me undress as I ran the water . . . and then stepped into the bath behind me offering to soap my back. I could feel his excitement as he cuddled into me and rubbed the flannel and suds down over my shoulders.

We dried each other off and kissed and fondled our way to the bed. He lay me back and knelt beside me stroking my arms and leaning forward to kiss at my breasts and tummy. He turned me on my side as he lay down next to me and slid his hand down over my tummy. I quickly found myself lifting my leg and moaning as I felt his fingers sliding around my lips and his tongue flicking over my nipples as he pulled himself closer into me. “Chew them” I was groaning at him as his mouth sucked from one to the other. His fingers always seem to just slide so easily into me . . . he whispered “so juicy” as he lifted his head away from my breasts for a moment and his fingers pushed and twirled. I squealed a little as he bit down on my nipple again. But quickly pushed his head to the other breast and squeezed my legs tighter over his wrist to make sure he knew I liked the sensation and my squeal was of pleasure and not a painful request for him to stop. “How many?” I gasped into his ear as his wrist continued it’s twisting and pushing. He pulled away and looked up to say “three” as he pushed again.

By the time he pulled his mouth away from my breasts, and slid down the bed further to start licking at me, I was already shaking and wanting so much to come with his fingers pushing and stroking inside me. I was still on my side as he repositioned himself and twisted on the bed to lift my leg up wider with his free hand and slide his mouth forward over my lips and clitty. I felt his fingers stroking and his tongue flicking and couldn’t stop myself letting go . . . “Oh, fucking hell . . . fucking me . . . ” I gasped and groaned, rocking back and forth onto my back and up again, and locking my legs over his wrist as I squirmed and shook, eventually releasing my grip on him and collapsing onto my back and then rolling over onto my side. I knew I’d been really loud and was still moaning as I rolled onto my side and pulled my knees up into my tummy. He pulled himself back up the bed and cuddled into my back, kissing my shoulders and neck and whispering “shhh”. After a few moments of silence he started whispering questions at me, but the rhythm of his whispers and the releasing sensations I was feeling . . . and his gentle stroking of my arm . . . completely failed in his attempt to stop me drifting off into an almost immediate and, apparently, unwakeable sleep.

I knew I’d dozed, but it had seemed like just a few minutes to me, instead of the “half-an-hour or more of snoring” that he said I’d had before he managed to shake me awake. He rolled me onto my back and sat-up on the bed next to me smiling and shaking his head. “Haven’t seen you for months and you fall asleep on me” he teased. I felt too exhausted and drained to rise to the bait, instead just shaking my head and lifting my finger up to his mouth to tell him to “shhh”. He laughed, “I’m not the one who was screaming at the walls”. I sat up, “God was I really that loud?”, remembering that on one previous occasion someone in the next room had banged on the wall.

Sitting up with him now I began returning his caresses, reaching into his lap. His willy felt smooth and warm as I stroked at it, and as we kissed I began to feel it growing and feeling firmer in my grasp. I pushed him down onto his back and knelt next to him . . . first stroking . . . then leaning forwards to flick my tongue over it as I could feel, and see, it getting larger and straighter. I lifted my legs up over his and rubbed forwards, rubbing my nipples over his, and sliding my pussy over his hardness. I love looking down between our tummies and seeing my lips squashing either side of his cock, sliding up and down over it almost wrapping together around his head, and then stretching apart again as I slide it back towards his sacs. His hands slid down to my hips and we lifted up together before I pushed back down over him and I felt him sliding straight into my pussy. I pushed my hands against his chest, pushing him back down onto his back and giggling as I teasingly lifted up and down and twisted my hips forwards and backwards on him. He was reaching his fingers up to my nipples again, but I spread his hands out instead, holding his palms against my breasts, “tender” I whispered to him as we were each gasping and rocking up and down on each other. We each leaned forwards to each other, me leaning down, him lifting up, to kiss and swirl our tongues around inside each others mouth. He suddenly stopped his pumping and thrusting up against me and reached down to my hips to roll me over off him and onto the bed. He turned me over onto my tummy and then knelt with one leg in-between mine, pushing his knee forwards and squeezing the cheeks of my bottom and kissing my back . . . And then down further and further until I felt his tongue sliding between my cheeks. As he’d slid further down the bed his body weight and chest and then shoulders had opened my legs wider and wider, and his tongue continued it’s path down and down. I lifted my bottom upwards as his tongue slid further. His hands spread my cheeks and then he reached forward to lift my knees up and forwards, lifting my bottom up further. I felt his tongue pull away from my clit and slide back upwards . . . I could hear his gasping and feel his breath . . . and then his tongue pushing, and twirling and pushing.

He got up off the bed and I reached up to pull the pillows down under my chin, looking back over my shoulder as I felt him kneeling back beside me and then between my legs as I opened them wider again. I gasped as I felt him rubbing the gel down between my cheeks. I leaned forward into the pillows, biting into the fabric to muffle my moans as I felt his hands pulling my hips back against him. We were both gasping and groaning with the feeling as he pushed into me . . . I knew that even with my face buried into the pillow, my groans were louder as I tried to adjust against the discomfort and . . . then that relieving push. I felt his hands sliding upwards under my tummy, not to their usual probing and swirling around my clit, but this time up to my nipples. I squealed again as I felt his palms scraping under each of my nipples. I pressed down against them, pushing his hands down onto the bed with my breasts. He was pumping quite quickly into me now, too quickly. I reached down with my own hands under my tummy, reaching between my legs trying to feel him, trying to touch his balls or hold him . . . the thrusting was too much though . . . I felt the pressure slapping my fingers between the bed and my lips. I could hear his grunting, I was conscious of my squeals into the pillow . . . I felt my finger over my clit, sliding it up inside myself . . . I could feel the pressure of his cock . . . I wondered for an instant if he could feel the pressure of my finger against his cock . . . then felt myself letting go with a huge muffled scream, pulling my finger, and my hands, away. An instant later I felt the pull, and the release, as we seemed to pull apart from one another, his weight falling forwards onto me, squashing me into the mattress. I heard his gasping on my shoulder and felt his hands sliding down around my tummy and rolling the both of us onto our side. We were rocking and moaning together, shaking and shuddering slower and slower, until we stopped, him cuddling and squeezing me into him.

We lay without speaking for several minutes, just each gasping and occasionally shuddering independently of one another. Suddenly I felt the dribbling and had to roll onto my back and open my legs. I had to rub it against the bed clothes, I couldn’t stop myself, it was squelchy and damp but I was too drained to move or sit up and search for tissues. S was laying beside me breathing heavily and occasionally whispering “God, oh god”. Eventually we both rolled over to face each other and cuddle into one another.

My phone alarm stirred us both. We’d hardly spoken since we’d come, just cradled into each other exchanging occasional kisses and squeezing each other again. He didn’t protest as we got up and quickly dressed. I pushed my knickers into my bag and smacked his hand away when he said “Can I have them? Can I keep them?”. “No you can’t, what if she were to find them!” I laughed at his silliness. “You are joking aren’t you?” I asked, suddenly not sure from his look whether he was just teasing, or if he had really wanted to take them home with him. His shrugged response was non-committal, but I laughed it off anyway and quickly changed the subject.

Home is only a 15 minute drive at that time of night and it was only just after midnight when I quietly let myself in and saw that the front room light was still on. I giggled when I walked in to find J sitting in his usual spot on the sofa, watching the news, but completely naked and holding up a glass of wine. I teasingly stood in front of the television and dropped my bag, lifted my top up over my head and then stepped out of my skirt. “You obviously needed your evening out!” he said as he stood up and handed me the glass. I accepted the glass and reached down to pull him into me by his erection . . . “it feels like you needed my evening out too”.

Best wishes – Edith

Aug 07, 2010 | 0 comments | View Post
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