Today's Award for Outdoor Orgasming Goes To...

Lately, I've been wrestling with and trying to declutter the amount of patriarchal organized religion nonsense that is still taking up space in my brain. One fantastic side-effect is that I'm feeling my witchy, bitchy nature-goddess side start to re-emerge. For a while now, I've had a very private outdoor spot all my own, and today, I deflowered it. This is a very good thing.

Oh, My Urgent Mouth

Yesterday while I was taking a nice bath after personal time I felt a warm, tingly feeling spread across my mouth and the lower right of my face. I ran my hand over it and knew exactly what it was—the urge to be slapped and to try a hand over my mouth, things for which my own hands just won’t do. Sometimes my body is absolutely humming to get along to the next phase, and I honestly don’t know what to tell it.

Adding the new fetishes to my Fet page only fanned the flame of it. I want to push forward and let my body have what it is so hungry for. Maybe there’s a way, but I know what’s in me besides that physical urge—the part of me that wants love so badly that it will imagine love where it isn’t. But holding myself back doesn’t seem natural or right either.

My poor mouth wants so very many things to happen to it, is dying to be kissed and smacked and fucked so hard I can’t breathe. I know there are other things that need to be taken care of right now, but 50 to 75 blow jobs doesn’t seem like too many.

I can take care of my hoo-ha and ass. I can feel myself up all night and day if I want to. (That’s one of the benefits of being out of work, I guess.) But what can I do for my poor, pining mouth, friends, while I wait for this break to be over?

Oh, mouth, I’m sorry. I wish I could give you everything.

Oh, It's You. Must Be the Daylight Savings...

Last night while I was enjoying some quality time with the Big Purple Thing, who should happen through my imagination but Bill. He doesn't come out  of my Spank Bank very often, so I was surprised to see him storming around my fantasy, giving me the what-for again.

It might be because the first time I wrote to him, it was the beginning of Daylight Savings Time last year. Yes, it is weird that I remember this.