Saturday Night Fever: Strange Dreams

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I am prone, once in a while, to to dream of strange things. Not ‘strange’ as in, I’m walking my pet velociraptor as one would walk a dog on a leash, but the velociraptor is dressed in a wedding gown and I am conducting this walk on stilts.

More like, ‘strange’ as in, I really don’t have any conscious notion of that action/activity to be a kink of mine — in fact I may quite shudder at the idea of it in the waking world — but for some reason, in this dream it’s really REALLY hot.

I shared one such strange dream before.

I had another a few nights ago.

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Orgasm Entitlement

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(with thanks to KDPierre, who got me thinking about this)

Morning

It comes on him fast: the quick-quick-slow-quick brush strokes of my hand along his shaft are as unpredictable as his reaction to them, and a fast clench of fuck muscles alongside a momentary startled outrush of breath are the only clues I have that he has crossed the point of no return.

It’s not a problem, exactly…

But giving him an orgasm wasn’t my intention, either.

So, rather than following through and allowing the ‘finished’ feeling that comes with pumping through ejaculation, I instead remove my hand altogether. He still twitches and spurts, but it is a delayed, confused spilling; his physiognomy has finished but his mind does not get the message. He does not feel finished.

And me?

Well, I think it’s only fair.

Because while we are by no means on any kind of set schedule where his orgasms are concerned, I’m pretty sure he *just* had one (after giving me one) and there’s certainly no reason he should be having another one just yet. Not a real one, anyway. So I think this morning’s ruined orgasm is a fair compromise.

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Saturday Night Fever: {s}NOT Sexy

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I’m sick, y’all.

Like, welcome to cold-and-flu season kind of fall-allergy sick.

My throat hurts and my nose is snotty and I’m taking Tylenol Cold & Flu medicine to help dry up the snot flow — medicine my husband had to provide his birth date for at the register when he bought it… WTF? — and, considering that this gunk showed up on the heels of a horrific migraine, I’m feeling all kinds of {s}NOT-sexy right now.

And for those of you whose first thought is, “OMG, COVID!” — I hate to disappoint you, but this is just typical head-cold kind of stuff. It happens to me every year. I can still taste (and am eating too much) and smell (though I wish I couldn’t, because it’s wood smoke season and my headache-prone noggin does NOT like that!) and have all the typical symptoms (typical for ME; strange for other people, apparently) of The Crud.

So…

YAY(?)

And stuff.

I can’t promise to be Justin Timberlake-ing my Sexy by next week, but I’ll try.

Meanwhile, if you want something sexy to read: Considering that we just ended this year’s September Song Project and that I’ve gotten a couple emails (I’m woefully behind on emails — If you sent me something between the beginning of June and now and I have not responded, I apologize!) related to How We Roll at casa del Feve where orgasm control is concerned, you might like to check out…

Take It To The Limit

~ and/or ~

You Know You Wouldn’t Want It Any Other Way

…for some sexy Saturday musical musings.

.

Meanwhile, me and my stinky legs (you’ll have to click it if you wanna know) are gonna be in recovery mode.

I’ll ‘see’ you some time next week.

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Autumn

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I was introduced to the music of George Winston when I was a sophomore in high school; the boy I was dating(?) at the time gave me the album December as a Christmas gift and I have been hooked ever since.

I bought the Autumn album for myself at a concert I attended (he is delightful live — self-effacing humor and so So SO talented!) a couple years ago where he was donating all the money from album sales that night to our local food banks, and I LOVE IT.

While scrolling through the Tube of You yesterday, looking for inspiration, I came across this video by a young pianist who is playing a George Winston composition and thought it would be a perfect ending for this year’s September Song Project. It is mellow and drifty and much like a winding walk through falling leaves. Essentially, it is a segue. Which is exactly how I feel about September overall.

If you have a moment, have a listen.

And thank you for joining me in my (now-annual!) September writing tradition of transitioning into fall.

(If you are unable to view from your screen, you’ll find this video on YouTube if you search for Petit Yuki or George Winston / Autumn.)

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