Recent Babblings
(Well, the last few years' worth.)16 May 1996 -- I feel funny. There's that ache just behind my right hipbone that means it's the heat time, that usually means I can think of nothing except for a cock. But here at work thinking about sex seems forced; there's no one in the bookstore to fantasize about (unless maybe I go out to the cash registers and catch a glimpse of Jaime? He's in better shape than I remember. But there's not all that much spark.) Think about Cary Elwes and Mandy Patinkin from the movie last night (now there's a little jump inside me, fair Westley all in black...) I just want to keep up with this feeling, not let it slip away. I want to go see Brain Candy tonight and stroke Ed's thigh, lean against him in the dark of the theater, wear a skirt and hose so he can get his hand inside me and feel me writhe against his fingers. Damn. I don't want to go back to work now.
Summer 1996: Damn you, redhead. You just look too fucking good. I'm still thinking about you. Last Friday, you in fairly tight black denim shorts, down to just above your knees. Black high-tops. Long-sleeved tan collared shirt, sleeves rolled up to elbows, dull black leather vest. Damn. Yesterday in your blue plaid flannel, dark pants, leaning against you to whisper about interstate commerce, you sent tingles through me. The memory does it now.
Jeans. I love men in tight denim. I love the way it looks across the ass, and especially the way jeans leave little of an erection to the imagination. Tight jeans actually make a man's interest less intimidating, because he's willing to be on display the same way women are practically expected to be. Loose jeans are sloppy. Same for shorts. Good jeans dress up t-shirts from sloppiness to an attraction. I can think of guys who I've never found attractive until I saw them in ass-hugging denim shorts.
It's not all I love. I love collared shirts, I love long sleeves. I like t-shirts that say something. There are certain colors I like. I like leather, the way heavy metal musicians dressed from about 1988 to 1992 or so. On some guys who can carry it off, I like the "New Romantic" look of the early 1980s with ruffled shirts and such. Ed jokes that I have a fetish for 17th-19th century male costume.
I want to watch you come, redhead. I want to tie your hands above your head, and I can't decide whether I should blindfold you so everything I do is a surprise, or leave your face uncovered so I can see your whole face. I want to hear you make noises like you do when I tickle you.
Simon in tan pants and long-sleeved shirt, tie, and damn, if it doesn't suit him much better than that black devil outfit. The Devil's Bartender [a nickname of Simon's] should wear a calm tan, fix drinks and listen sympathetically to the Devil grousing about a hard day's work. Unfortunately, it's a lot more Simon to toss the demons out who've been picking fights, and be lifting the skirt of a blonde succubus after he bends her over a table.
Fox Mulder. I can't get that damned story ["Possibilities" by Brenda Antrim] out of my mind, that blowjob in an alley, no drugs needed.
Weird dreams last night, dream of Jen abandoning Russ at the altar, him turning to me. And I know I dreamt of Simon but I don't quite remember how. He emailed me about College Bowl and it will be nice to see him there. And the Halloween Party (I wonder what he's gonna be).
I dream of Russ and maybe Simon with him. The two people would take the first-time pressure of either alone off. I take off my shirt and Simon kisses the back of my neck while Russ kisses my mouth. I was thinking of all three of us in the shower (as if we'd fit!) but I'm having trouble [with the story] outside, so back in: one soapy cock in each hand, color-differentiable even in the fog. Mouth on each tit.
I want to tie you down, Simon, helpless and gagged on the table, still fruitlessly pulling on your bonds. Russ is next to you, tied just as securely but not gagged, unusually quiet but able to respond when I ask him questions. I tell him I'm thinking of the Beauty books, ask if I should summon my pet cat? All while stroking Simon's body and sometimes his cock. Occasionally, I give some physical attention to Russ, but not in the purposeful way I'm doing it to Simon. I take some oil and rub it on both their cocks -- watching them try and push themselves up against my hands. I ask Simon how it would feel to watch me fuck another man, with no way to blame anyone but me for doing it. His eyes don't look pleased. I start giving Russ more attention, rubbing him all over with oil, occasionally putting a bit on myself and a bit on Simon, until we all shine. (Damn, I have to go to work now!)
29 Nov 1996 -- A year ago I was thinking of Ed and his long hair brushing against my back as he fucked me from behind. I still want him, even without the hair. Was thinking of Ed and Malka and Simon and me. If I kiss Malka, will Simon kiss Ed? I don't know how to say what that would do to me. Of course, either of them would probably say the same thing about me and Malka. Her hand caressing my breast, thumb running over my nipple -- I think Simon would be willing to stick his tongue between Ed's lips to see that! I wonder what Malka's tits feel like. Perhaps I should ask Ed -- that might have enough of an effect to get him back in bed with me. That wonderful thick cock inside me would be nice about now. Or Simon's urgent mouth against my neck, hands squeezing my ass and pushing my body up against his. But I keep thinking about kissing her. What would it feel like to cup her fuller breasts, circle her nipples, run my fingers between her labia and feel the dampness there. Ed or Simon would probably be stiff as a board watching this. Stroking their cocks on the sideline? After a few minutes to get used to Malka, I'd love to feel one of them coming up behind me, perhaps the other caressing her. Perhaps Simon and me both getting to know Malka's body. What does it feel like to run your tongue over a hard nipple, sticking out more than Fred's even? Malka's fingers inside my cunt, someone's hands, from behind me, on my tits, whoever else kissing me but my eyes are closed. Later she's spread out on the bed, my fingers inside her and above that, my tongue gingerly touching her clit.
28 Aug 1997 -- I take my clothes off at the end of the day, peeling panties and socks away from imprisoned skin. I slide on a loose, slippery nightgown and savor the feel of fabric swishing against me instead of clinging. I feel a prickling between my legs, underneath the burr of coarse hair I need to trim. I scratch the itches all over -- head, back, ass, shoulder, foot -- and stretch my tired muscles out. The prickling persists. The face on the stationery [a mask with painted features and ribbons hanging from its sides] haunts me, eyes staring straight into my face as I lie on my stomach, my chin on the clipboard, to write. The lips should kiss mine, should caress my breast, as I lie here wiggling my hips against the blanket without even thinking about it.
25 Dec 1997 -- I want that X-Files poster, the light shining from behind Mulder and Scully, making their skin pale, their lips red and an aura form around each of them. I think I could have that on the bedroom wall and look up at them and fantasize about passion cloaked in gray and fog.
I think about Simon and still have a lot of anger but I still find him attractive. I imagine him lying on the bed, not actually tied down but told to lie still. The room is lighted only with candles and their reflections in the mirror. Some across the room on the dresser and some on the nightstand beside me. One ivory-colored, one red, one black. The usual blue and silver have been left on their own across the room.
I pick up the undyed candle in its sturdy holder and tilt it, the flaming end above his back. The drop of melted wax has time to cool a little in the distance it falls, but there's still a burst of heat against his skin as it hits and, still liquid, trickles down the curve of his side. He jerks slightly at first impact, but stays still overall. More drips, pale blotches against his tan skin.
28 Jan 1998 -- An orgasm first thing in the morning sure does a lot for the mood. Woke up sort of thinking about Simon, since I'd gone to bed after answering his mail about getting together to return my Python tape. Masturbated, felt bloody great, and have continued to do so while doing boring household chores and getting a phone call from work to ask me to work extra hours to get all this crap done by launch date. Lots of compliments on the quality of my work, though, to soften me up for that. It will be annoying to squeeze in around Fred's visit but I can get some in Friday. But I'm not depressed, and I think some of that is due to a tremendous orgasm before even my coffee.
3 Aug -- Hair. "Here baby there mama everywhere daddy daddy HAIR!" I feel like messing with my hair, play with combs and barrettes and scrunchies, pile it up on my head in some facade of elegance. Let the soft strands from against my neck be shown on the outside.
And again, the sensual pleasure of loose folds against one's legs instead of the jeans of all day. A rich satin jacquard robe on one's arms. No more earrings, no more socks. Almost as good as being naked; sometimes better. (Certainly warmer.)
26 Sep 1998 -- Lolling around in skimpy forest-green satin with a robe of the same hue covering the shoulders, except when I let it drop for the pictures Ed was nice enough to take when I asked after practicing the pose in the mirror by myself, listening to my Excitement Volume III mix tape, getting back my oldest energy. Wet hair combed straight and slick, pose a little like the good ones I cut out of Night Moves and Hott, the ones that didn't make me giggle like so many in the mags. Instead of my old pictures of clothed long-haired men all put together in collage, it'll be barely-clothed women.
If I weren't also tired, I might be taking Ed's clothes off. If he weren't so tired, he might have started doing the same when he took my pictures. But masturbation can be hotter without even taking as much energy, sometimes.
After those mags, I will have to ask Fred to bring the Polaroid and take some more pictures of me, ones I couldn't get by the developers. Like a pose I cut out, one I often adopt while masturbating -- chest and shoulders pressed into the matress, head turned sideways, ass in the air. The woman is pulling what look like vinyl hot pants down to just above her knees, and her patent-leather knee-high boots are also in the air [at the feet]. I don't know how I'd dress for the pose -- that red gown with the transparent net skirt flipped back over my torso? Nothing but thigh-high stockings? The pose to me suggests bondage without bonds; cunt offered up to whoever the viewer wants, and in my head a voice commanding me to lift that ass higher, let everyone see my hands working my clit and pumping the dildo in and out.
26 September -- I miss my babbling file, where I could put any erotic fragment that came into my mind, so I'm inaugurating this book as one on paper.
Before I started this I was finishing off one of the random sheets of paper that had served the purpose of babbling, and started with a picture of me I had Ed take in the green nightgown I'm actually wearing. Then I contemplated a pose I cut out of Night Moves, a woman with her ass up in the air. I put on a red gown with a transparent skirt and played out that pose and some others in front of my mirrored closet doors, listing what I want Fred to take with his Polaroid as I went along, and ending up fucking myself with the combination vibrator-dildo he gave me. I think we might burn through a whole package of Polaroid film re-enacting that, with two copies minimum of each pose. Oh, well.
In the bookstore today, I was reading Carol Queen's Real Live Nude Girl and she described a "Jack and Jill Off Party" that had been held in San Francisco. Whole groups of people, both sexes, all orientations, masturbating themselves and each other -- what an image. I want one! Is that infidelity, redhead?
29 Sep -- Dammit, I've been thinking about Simon all day, his condom-covered cock ready to pound inside me (that's rare, adding latex to the fantasy.) I even got into a semi-erotic coversation with him today in e-mail, alternating between teasing him and reading Ranma 1/2 slash (I need to watch more anime!) Horny as hell, and Simon said he had to drive someone to their job on campus; I told him I needed to go home and eat but invited him to e-mail back or phone. I half expected him to show up at the door (and would have welcomed it) but we haven't connected up. So I guess I'll jerk off, go to bed, and show up at his office house tomorrow to be a tease in person. :).
28 Oct -- Banana rum and orange juice is really good. I'm lying around in a red nightgown Ed really likes because the cups are transparent, having just masturbated with the Koi [the above-mentioned combination vibrator-dildo]. I'm still squirming against my thong flutter panties in semi-aftershock. The Rolling Stones' Undercover is on. I was thinking of Guavaween this weekend, Russ and Gail and Gus and I getting drunk together, and going back to their place and talking about sex and Russ and Gail cuddling and Gus buzzed enough not to flinch from my leaning against him and then each couple starts to rub up against their partners, subtly at first and then noticeably and it goes from sitting next to each other on the floor to reclining, and Russ's hand is under her shirt and I slide my hand under Gus's and he and Gail are enjoying sensation and Matt notices that I'm kinda copying his movements and grins widely and then kisses Gail deeply. I take the unspoken dare and kiss Guss who hesitates but quickly kisses back. It turns me on to think that the last person to kiss him on the mouth was probably a man.
Russ and I each start undressing the person under us. Gus is uninhibited enough at this point not to resist; Gail shoots a startled glance at Russ and another over at us, but seems to think we're too busy to stare. She starts trying to get Russ's shirt off. Gus seems content just to push my skirt up to my waist; I take my shirt off anyway and toy with my nipples through the lace catsuit because they ache to be touched. Gus takes over the job while I lightly run my nails over all of him that I can reach, while across from us Russ and Gail have gotten all their clothes undone and out of the way, if not completely off.
10 Nov -- I'm not up to finishing the previous one even though it was to end with me fucking Gus and Russ fucking Gail on the floor of their living room.
8 Dec -- Ed's Erotica magazine has this ad on the inside back cover for liquid latex and now I want some. Usually latex and rubber stuff is all black and pink and tacky but this is silver and comes in other colors and I want my tits, arms, chest, back coated, I want to go Natalie's candlewax one better and drip it on Gus -- black and purple and green for him, in nice little dribbles. I think I want to cut out the pictures from this ad and paste them into my collection, so I can look at her silver-coated feet and the curves of her breasts and the way it's [the latex] torn away from her. I guess I know what I want for my birthday.
24 Dec -- Evil thoughts. Had to dig up Grandaddy's record of Bolero to determine if you could waltz to it, which you can, because I was imagining that bit about Malka and Greta dancing. Greta in a short white evening dress, pumps with the ankle straps. Malka in black velvet turtleneck, black jeans and flats, a belt with a riding crop stuck in it, though unused. Greta, trying so hard to stand up straight and keep up with Malka leading her, adding in spins and turns as the music increases in intensity. Missing a step gets her a smack on the ass which drives her hips in toward Malka, who then pulls her closer, dropping the standard hand positions to carry her along with one hand across the shoulder blades and the other a little too low on her back. Greta's hands are on Malka's waist, kind of holding herself up. It's moving from a waltz to something else entirely. After their bodies rub together, Malka reaches for the zipper at the back of Greta's dress. The satin sheath parts to reveal pale skin, a strapless bra, clinging stretch satin bikini panties, stay-up stockings. Greta almost blushes, staggers a step until Malka brings a menacing hand to her belt. They glide to a stop. Malka motions Greta to unzip Malka's jeans. [Sorry, that's as far as I got with this one.]
26 March -- I just finally ordered and received my latex this week -- black for the starter kit but I'm thinking I'll be buying other colors. I painted over my nipples this evening, just a little squarish patch over nipple and areola and surrounding skin but it is so erotic to look down at my chest and see these black nipples, bumps of areola and all. Like a second skin, once it dried which did take a while, a warm soft feeling like the bare skin only more slick. I walked around topless for an hour and a half, with black panties to match (and lavender stockings and heels) although I pretty much had to the first hour or so to finish drying. Kept looking at them. (If I look at them, whatever will Ed do? [Evil Grin]) And the interesting sensation of peeling them off. But I'd masturbated to orgasm way before that -- before they'd dried.
So the fantasy is based on that strip poker and Twister games, those Truth or Dare and strip Trivial Pursuit games. I see something like that, most like Truth or Dare but really planned in advance -- nobody would just get together to play Truth or Dare. My place -- push the coffee table out of the center so we can sit on the floor. Under it, off to the side, are porn and lubes and candles with a lighter and latex jars and vibrators and dildos. Perhaps Ed, Gus, and I have pooled supplies. Sheets across the carpet. Rules negotiated in advance -- no genitals touched by anything but hands or objects. Just titillation and perhaps (likely?) masturbation. I see Ed, me, Gus, Natalie, Russ and his new girlfriend Leah (just because I don't know enough about her to say that she wouldn't go for it.) Daring people to put on little shows: Gus to have candle wax dripped on him. Ed to put his fingers inside me. I want to say Russ to masturbate (because Gus did it in real life and Natalie says she doesn't -- although this night might make her! Ooh, that's it, Natalie can be introduced to the Hitachi Magic Wand!) Leah? I remember her vaguely as dark-haired -- maybe I can kiss her. That seems fun and something I can imagine mostly by sensation and not have to know what she looks like. And everybody plays with latex -- I see a stripe like a collar around Russ's neck, since he's got short enough hair now that it wouldn't get in the way. Probably painted tits for all us women. Damn, that could be fun.
25 April -- I woke up this morning thinking about Russ -- thinking about telling him how I want to make him lose control, what I want to do to him, to touch him, to make him produce noises like I heard that night in Fred's apartment [Russ and Gail were in bed in the next room], offering to masturbate for him if he'd take his cock out and play with it for me. I have an idea of the effect watching me come can have, with Ed offering to hold the vibrator even when he's too tired to really participate because he just like to see me. I gotta do that with Gus; he mentioned Friday night that we still haven't done the watching me masturbate, not watching him to orgasm. Sometime I want to see him come, which I haven't even though we've fucked. He was saying Joe would be gone for two weeks sometime and Natalie was thinking of another strip poker game. Wondering who to invite as Russ is out of the picture due to Leah. Gus mentioned Tanya. That would be cool, if I got to be there -- I think Tanya's sexy. As much her manner as anything, but she looks sexy. Wonder if they'd be interested in Ed?
But anyway, I was so astoundingly horny, but when I started to masturbate in bed this morning, it surprised even me. I hadn't even gotten up to piss yet but that didn't seem to interfere. And afterwards, eating breakfast and all, I could smell my cunt and it was rather distracting. I'm gonna have trouble getting any work done today.
Later that day: Fucking is so much fun. Damn my jaw, though; I wanted Ed to come in my mouth. At least one time, sometime. I still have a pleasant sensitive not-quite-ache in my cunt, though we've finished, showered, and dressed. Lying here in Ed's bed writing while he sits at the computer. I had been so horny all day, completely sure we'd fuck this evening. Picked up The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty earlier and remembered when the series was the dorm's erotic books, the first time I picked up Russ's copy of Claiming where he'd left it on the bed while off wherever he was while Ed, James, and Amber and whoever else was there watching ST: TNG while I ignored and read and went upstairs to sleep and dream of myself as Beauty, Russ as the Prince, and everything taking place on Egyptian barges. Tonight I was kinda thinking of myself as Beauty at first, lying still(ish) with my hands above my head while Ed licked and finger-fucked me, then going down on my knees to suck him. I had pretty much forgotten about it by the time we got to fucking, though.
I wanna write some X-Files slash. I have the beginning: Mulder is home alone, bored/depressed, listening to "The Sounds of Silence" album, probably with Gus and Russ's joke about it being 'the suicide album' in there, attributed to a college roommate. Krychek steps out, commenting "My theme song" during "Somewhere They Can't Find Me." (Probably right after "but I've got to sneak down the alleyway/Glide down the highway/Before they come to get me I'll be gone/Somewhere they can't find me.") But I can't think how to continue.
Wow. Sitting here (lying, actually) continuing with Claiming, I really am thinking about having a man over my lap and spanking him. Russ? Simon? Gus? More likely one of the former two for the fantasy, though I dunno who'd like it in real life. Ass over my lap, my fingers probing his crack and moving down to his scrotum.
26 April -- The sex party still gives me ideas -- possibly because I received the Blowfish order Ed got me and I got Faces of Ecstasy which would make such good background/starter stuff for it. This morning, I woke up thinking about Simon , what would have happened if I'd let him handcuff me. I'll have to try to get him to tell me although of course he'll want to try and surprise me. Maybe I can get something out of him.
12 June -- We (Ed and I) went dancing with Russ and Leah, not that we could get Ed to dance, but it was nice not to be the only one who could be publicly affectionate. I saw Leah sucking Russ's finger at one point, and the image that popped into my head was her lips pursed the same way around his cock. Nice vision. I like her, I think she looks like Jennifer Grey who I always thought was really pretty. I bet Ed will be fantasizing about her, probably with me, tonight as she got me out on the dance floor alone several times, once to a sort of lambada (and other times to swing one another around like we're trying to reach escape velocity! I was so dizzy.) So I bet I'll be thinking about her too.
18 June -- I wish Simon weren't in Minnesota; then I'd be e-mailing him, telling him I'm running around in a little gown he'd like, especially the lack of panties under it.
21 June -- After reading The Hacker Crackdown again, I'm flooded for some reason with images of time-traveling to some early hacker convention and meeting guys, two inexperienced but experimental guys back to a hotel room for menage a trois, watching the two of them as well, perhaps jacking one another off to show me.
9 July -- Last night's fantasy was me in the middle of Trey Parker and Matt Stone. I was visualizing Trey with his messy bleached-blond hair, not the short dark cut I saw him with on Conan O'Brien two days ago. But it was a lot of fun imagining being shared by two close friends -- I was even imagining a double penetration which I never do. Trey underneath me, inside my cunt, and Matt working his way into my ass behind me -- this is still a little weird for me to think about. But it would be nice to not have that particular hang-up, if it does actually go away. But I spent hours surfing Trey & Matt fan sites; I have to see Baseketball -- the reviews say there's something with Matt masturbating, and something with the two of them kissing which I'm not the only one who would find hot, given the comments on the sites. I want screen shots!
13 Oct -- Watching this porn movie from a collection Ed's mom got when she bought a bunch of stuff sight unseen off the Net. This one's called Neon Nights; it was made about 1980 and I really like the fashions in here, the lingerie and the women don't have shaved or nearly so cunts. It's better with the sound off, though; the plot doesn't make all that much sense (and if I've gotten the ending right, is a little creepy).
I read Grace Slick's autobiography and am enthralled with her descriptions of the men she made love to -- Jack Casady, Jim Morrison, Jorma Kaukonen, and of course Paul Kantner. I always thought Paul was so cute with the glasses and all. I fantasized about him fucking me earlier this evening, though I had been reading lesbian porn before I stopped to masturbate. I gotta find some good pictures of the Airplane. Right now I'm fantasizing about having a time machine to set up an apartment in San Francisco, invite Paul, Jorma and Jack over and watch porn movies and see what happens. Me and my multiple-guy fantasies. Two blond guys and one brunet.
15 Oct -- Rather weird fantasy as I was dropping off to sleep for my Friday afternoon nap -- goes along with the older Beatles fantasies and the recent Airplane ones, but unusual. I lured Brian Epstein into a room alone (I visualized it as a fancy, elegant bedroom in his own house), blindfolded him, and basically pretended to be a guy, encouraging him to visualize whatever guy he would find attractive, and gave him a blowjob. I remember telling him he deserved nicer sex partners. (At least those I read about in The Love You Make weren't particularly nice people.) I even remember thinking I'd have borrowed men's clothes, maybe John Lennon's (like those would have fit!)
5 Dec -- Currently I look at Night Moves and Vivid Quest and wish I had a chance to be in charge of photography for some of these clubs. I could get them dressed so much sexier and have them not all looking the same and not so low-rent either. I see themes (beach party, Halloween party, classy New Year's Eve party, sleepover) that I could do so well setting up for. They need to realize that revealing all is nowhere near as sexy as leaving something to the imagination sometimes. I think my scenarios would get customers' imaginations going.
15 Dec -- Was digging back through the green folder of finished fantasy and all my transcriptions of coded stuff from my scribblebooks, all these hot guys walking around in jeans and white shirts, blue club jerseys -- where did all the hot guys go? I dream of my high school reunion in two years, dressing well, foxy, in a subdued manner, tracking down some of those guys there, Aaron or John or even Jim, bringing one of them home or more than one, like I used to fantasize about having one after another, or even sneaking off to a private place, off in an empty office like in Grosse Pointe Blank. I think John because I wrote that D & S thing about him and because of his Medea comment, I at least knew he knew I was alive. Wear a miniskirt and heels -- he seems likely to turn up in a suit. Dance up close to him, dance with anyone who'll dance. Get to know some of these guys as people who I only knew as popular people and sex objects. Tell them how I drooled, quote the damn scribblebook, see if they offer to do now what I wanted them to do then. Lick my cunt until I grab their heads to keep them in place, slam their cocks into me deep and hard.
5 March (Sheesh, it'll take decades to finish this book!) Yesterday I read an article in Nerve magazine about VoyeurDorm, from a woman reporter who stayed there two days, even sleeping overnight, and the guys in the site's chat room being like "Is the reporter girl going to take her top off?" I like the idea, exposing all to a bunch of guys at a suitable distance. Everybody uses handles, and I could chat with the guys in the chat room, and I bet I would do activities that suit them, walking around in my little gowns, getting up and dancing, all the shit I do normally. It's just living with all those roommates that would be a problem -- they were talking in the article of how no one ever did the dishes so eventually they just started eating off disposable tableware. But if I could get a group of people that I liked, I'll really intrigued by the idea of living in a wired household. Couldn't do it on my own because then I'd feel like I'd always have to be 'on,' but a group would relieve that. I mean, I talk to people who aren't there, or imagine someone seeing me folding the laundry, lip-synching to the radio, or masturbating. Alone but seen. Sometimes it's so much less pressure than being with someone.
I've also been, more in real life, thinking about putting up some of my erotic stories and those soft-core pictures of me on a free home page I could have since I registered at Nerve. (Which I did to get into some special photography gallery, but they do offer web space. It would be interesting to see if I got any response. (And I could play with CSS there too -- technology and sex are so much fun!)) The Nerve-required link banner is tasteful and at the bottom, too. Well, we'll see. Netscape kept crashing when I was trying to browse while on Ed's computer, so some exploration at work will be necessary before I commit myself to making one.
8 April -- Ever since the Oscars a few weeks ago I have been thinking of Trey Parker and Matt Stone again. They wore dresses as a joke, and even though when Jennifer Lopez wore that green robe, cut all down the front and only pinned together at the crotch, to the Grammys, I was still looking at David Duchovny, on Trey the outfit strikes my mind as like a bathrobe and boxer shorts. Open all down the front except where the tie/pin holds it together; I could part it and start playing with him through those boxers (Trey's were pretty clingy although the sequins prevented them from showing any outline) and eventually pull them down or reach a hand down them. (Let a man find out what it's like to have your clothing make you vulnerable.) It's scary how good it looked on him to me, without seeming anything like drag. Matt Stone looked more obviously "man in women's clothes" (one needs cleavage or at least non-flatness for that bodice) but I find myself wondering what shoes he wore under that skirt. And I just love the combination of confidence and not taking themselves too seriously.
Same date: I discovered something! Ed and I had been fucking and his legs started to complain so we stopped for a rest and he said he felt queasy and so we didn't start fucking again (but what he had worn himself out doing was quite pleasurable for me and I wasn't left unsatisfied). We were cuddling while he got his rest and ended up feeling each other up again and I started stroking his cock very slowly, making sure on the way up and down to contact that underside of the ring around the head, and he was gasping and jerking visibly really soon when usually that takes a while, and I kept adding a bit of lube every now and then, watching his face with its open mouth and closed eyes, finally speeding up some but still keeping that contact on the way up and down that I was doing while I was stretching it out, and I could tell when he was about to come for a change. And I didn't even have to keep this up long enough for my arm to get tired, which usually happens when I'm jerking him off. That ring seems to be clitlike for him, in that it can get over-sensitized really fast if that's all you focus on (a problem I've had with hand jobs in the past with Ed) but if you don't do too much, it's definitely a source of strong feeling. I shall have to remember this technique.
22 April -- It was weird -- when I was watching The Monkees that I've programmed the VCR to tape at 5 a.m. every Saturday, since I was 12 and MTV reran them, I had always drooled over Peter. But this week's (two second season episodes after Micky had let his hair go curly and afro-y) I was think how very hot Micky was, how nice he looked in whatever they put him in because he was skinny and looked nice in the styles of the '60s, but I know from last week's and seeing him in a bathing suit that he wasn't skinny in a bad way. Plus this week's showed the Monkees' supposed bedroom -- it was so '60s! But I was thinking of its atmosphere for fucking -- dim, beaded, and with the four beds -- and I seemed like a nice place for an orgy. It's weird for me to be this susceptible to arousal right before my period, but I guess I get that little span just before it starts, and I'm due tomorrow. (I was just looking forward to being over the tiredness of the PMS). Too bad Ed's asleep.
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