Black Dog

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It’s the slow stroke of midnight at 4:00am,

The burn
. . . . . The plea
. . . . . . . . . . . . The need

The melding of our existence melting between my thighs.

It’s every note we’ve ever sung,
An octave lower.

Rhythm
Sound
Beat

Familiarly new,
This composition resonates against my skin
In pentatonic strokes,
Over and over…

And over…

It’s both gravelly earth and heavenly wings,
The breathy gasp of an azure tune
In the compliant roll and rock
Of dripping
Glossy
Wet
Twangy
Blue complaint.

It’s a relentless pounding,
A cherishing kiss,
A sweet, steady, slow, sexy,
Morning
Fuck.

Ah, ah . . . . . Ah, ah

Ah, ah . . . . . Ah, ah

Ah, ah . . . . . Ah, ah

Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh….

Wanton Wednesday: Smooch

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Yes, that’s the Mister.  And yes, he’s wearing clothes.   While I (as usual) am not.

Naked is the new black!  And skin is always in…

Smooch

Happy Wanton Wednesday!

Yes, as a matter of fact, I *AM* stealing your sperm.

Duh.

And no, you most definitely do NOT have permission to cum.

These answers ~ and more! ~ can apparently be found on my blog.  Because Oogle-gay, in all its wisdom, refers people to my blog when they type in questions (search terms) like this:

  • is she stealing my term “non latex condom” (seriously…all one phrase, no question mark, and all lower case)

And this:

  • permission to cum tease and denial

And while pretty much anyone who’s looking for a Sybian synopsis can find one here {you wouldn’t believe the number of search terms including the (oft-misspelled) word ‘Sybian’ that route readers to Casa del Feve, but while do women enjoy sybians ~ um, yes…duh! ~ makes sense, 2 women with nipples to each other on sybian definitely misses the mark}, this is NOT ~ I repeat, NOT! ~ the place to cum (you don’t have permission, remember?) if you want your cock crushed.

‘Kay.

So, to summarize our main points as succinctly as possible:

  1. Yes, I am stealing your sperm.  That’s why I use non-latex condoms.  Duh.
  2. No, you do not have permission to cum.  Again, I say: Duh.
  3. Yes, women “enjoy” Sybians.  This woman does, anyway.  Um, Duh.
  4. No, I will not crush (or bind or trample or whip ~ enough with the CBT, people!) your cock.  Yeesh!  (I’ll spank it though.  And your balls too.  I’m kinda…skilled…at that.  In case you were wondering.)

We’ll just ignore the fact that #1 and #2 sort of negate one another, okay?  Because that would be looking at things logically.  Which obviously (see the triple-Duh’s above) is not the way to go.  Therefore, in honor of The Most WTF?!? Search Terms Ever, I’m going to defy logic.  Which means I’m going to answer more moronic musings, questionable queries, and curious comments from…erm…Those Who Are Desperately Seeking A Clue.

Clench your buttocks, people!  And don’t say I didn’t warn you…

(And for the record, Q does not necessarily mean Question.  It just means I looked at my stats page under Search Terms and this is what I found in the Queue.)

Q:  What do black stiletto boots go with?

A:  Nothing.  Which is why I wear mine with my birthday suit.

Q:  What is the meaning of LMP in BDSM?

A:  I have no idea.  But my LMP is a Licensed Massage Practitioner, and she’s a sadist who abuses me regularly.  And I, apparently, am a pain slut.  Because I continually go back for more.

Q:  hairy risig mature

A:  Whaaa…?

Q:  “coughed and coughed and coughed”

A:  I think you’re confused.  I don’t give prostate exams.  Only prostate massages.

Q:  Take ass temperature pictures.

A:  No.

Q:  mature legs wrapped around missionary

A:  NMK.  (Not My Kink.  Learned that one at dinner last night.)  For the record, I have never wrapped my legs around a missionary.  And maturity has nothing to do with it.

Q:  “not wearing a bra”

A:  Damned right, I’m not.

Q:  Baby, it’s cold outside naked.

A:  Duh.  (Again with the Duh.)

Q:  Wanton nudes?

A:  Wanton Wednesdays.

Q:  Most spankable ass of the day?

A:  Ooh, two in a row!

Q: fuckinghusband’snipples

A: Erm…  Um, okay…  And here we were doing so well…

Q:  “fucking myself with my lelo”

A:  OhFuckYes…  I’ll go do that right now.  (One last time:  DUH.)

(Un)Happy As a Damn Clam

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I don't even know if that IS (was?) a clam.  But it doesn't look too happy to me.

I don’t even know if that IS (was?) a clam. But it doesn’t look too happy to me.

I’m happy as a clam this morning.

Which is to say, I’m as crabby as a shellfish.

Because I think I sprained my spine last night, trying to golf in my sleep.  Which is ridiculous.  (It takes me 17 hours to complete a round of mini-golf, after all.)  And if I’m gonna be whacking balls, I don’t require a golf club to do so.  However, a dream is a dream is a nightmarish dream.  So not only did I play golf in my dream; I rode a bus first.  And buses?  Not a fan.  Also, there was a purple-clad nun on the bus who had about as much Jesus in her as a feral cat looking for its next mouse fix.  Which is to say, the ‘nun’ was the devil incarnate.  Needless to say, Sister Suk Yu Bus and I had a minor altercation before disembarking to go swing our clubs.  (Thank God she wasn’t part of my foursome.  *Shudder*)

So, to recap:  bus, nun, golf, sprained spine.  And let me tell you, a sprained spine is no fun at all.  I think I need therapy.  Of the physical variety.  Because if there’s one way to cure a sprained spine, it’s by getting physical.  Which means I need to remember where I put my new bottle of lube…

Oh!  And in my dream, there was a line.  And I was waiting in it.  I *hate* waiting in line.  Hate.  It.

Admittedly, when I first woke up (at 3:41 this morning, thankyouverymuch), I was a bit concerned about the meaning of this dream, especially because (1) I’m not Catholic, and (2) my experience with swinging clubs has nothing to do with golf.

But now, after further contemplation, I think my dream’s message was crystal clear:  Purgatory is real.  (Regardless of what the Pope has to say on the subject.)  And it’s located someplace between a bus and a golf course.

Also, I think yesterday’s post (oh, just click it…you know you want to!) is stuck in Purgatory.

Which is neither here nor there.

Literally.

SO.

My weekend is off to a rockin’ start.

Just thought I’d share.