Cuddle Up.

There's something about the changing of the seasons that gets me thinking of skin on skin. Shedding layers, sweaty body on sweaty body, cool showers, cold beers and hot fucking.

Quite frankly, sometimes it's too hot to fuck. It is on those occasions that we can take a moment to step back and appreciate the curves, textures and idiosyncrasies of the people we're generally rubbing ourselves against. Sometimes, the naked person you're three feet away from looks like the softest, cuddliest, most wonderful place to be in the world. And then suddenly... it doesn't seem so hot. Let's fuck!

Seeing how often you have sex, does it leave time for jerking off?

Pff! Of course.

I'd say we have some form of sex (oral, anal, vaginal, mutual masturbation, masturbation for show) several times per week. But that leaves plenty of other times.

Hot Husband, Cold Dildo

I guess I don't really need to tell you what's happening this afternoon. Honestly, how thoughtful and fuckable is he? Nevermind the fact that I spent the whole train ride home from work thinking of what to write about next. Nevermind that I was already wet when I hit the door. And nevermind that I found him still home, on a long lunch break, up to no good when I got inside. He had such a delightful and devious little smirk on his face that I knew he had plans beside the quickie I was about to beg him for. Needless to say, I was ready.

I've been thinking a lot about our hit lists. There are some things on mine that surprised me. Namely, how much of it had to do with watching. I guess I've always felt it, but never really vocalized it. I like to watch. And really, if I think about I like to BE watched.

As the husband I love to fuck so dearly has told you, I have a taste for ladies. In fact, I can occasionally be caught leering at them on the subway. I tend to gaze at women the way I shop for produce. I like something round, ripe and luscious. I want it to be velvety, yield to my touch and have a little spring to it. I want it to be tart and sweet and I want its juices to run down my chin. In truth, I am both a tits and ass man. Woman. You get my drift.

via Synthetic Pubes - by: Arian Brumby

So, perhaps, it's because I like to look so much that I also like to be on display. When I catch a man's eyes on the street trained squarely on my tits, I can feel my husbands appreciative hands all over them. When I read the things my husband writes about the way he watches men drool over my ass - I'll admit it - it makes me wet. When I get an 'Oh, damn!' of approval for the short skirt I'm wearing, it makes me want to run home, hike it up over my hips and bend over the bed, expectantly.

There's something so sexy about knowing that while I rub my clit and coax my g-spot out of hiding for his viewing pleasure, I'm often doing it to the thought of him furiously stroking his cock. Because there are few things in this world I like more than being able to see the way the muscles in his stomach jerk and spasm right before he comes. The way he rubs his hand around the base of his shaft and tugs his balls upwards a little to bring himself over the edge. The way his whole body tightens, freezes, then instantly relaxes as his hot, salty load comes shooting out onto his stomach (or more preferably, my tits).

Actually, just thinking about it, I'm ready for another one.

Summer Friday.

Welcome home.

As you sit, thinking about your new post, I have a few requests to make.

1. Go to the freezer. Open it. You'll know what to look for.
2. The bullet is on the table. Insert.
3. Slide it into that warm, slick, humid pussy. Cool yourself down.
4. Take a seat at the table.
5. Blog. And, you know, get yourself off.

Enjoy!