Saturday Night Fever: Stuffed Kitty

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(NO, not like that.)

stuffed kitty sitting on lap

This little guy^ came quite unexpectedly in the mail a couple days ago.

The conversation, as I recall, was about books. Or rather, it was about the fact that in 2020, I read less books than I normally do. (I know this because I started keeping track of my finished titles on Goodreads back in 2017, a year during which I read 70 books; by contrast, in 2020, I read 54. Which is still a lot by most people’s standards, right? I mean, I get that. But still.)

And somewhere along the meandering path our conversation took, I sort of went, “…hmmm…” and stated that I wondered whether I should get a stuffed kitty.

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Concupiscence

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It hits me with the chaotic silk-winged strength of an errant butterfly, a punch to the solar plexus that spreads heat in a confused beat-flap of unexpected desire.

Warmth, nostalgic and demanding, walks its fingers behind my navel and twists, shooting prickle-bolts of lightning to jolt awake the heartbeat that sleeps in the nerve-sensitized swell of suddenly-awake flesh.

I feel the sharp teeth of tenderness bite through armor I’d forgotten I was wearing.

Searching his expression through the flat-glass division that connects our delineated geography, I wonder… Why?

Not that it’s unwelcome. (Though it’s become unusual.) But why this sudden piercing emotion? Why this ache? What’s different?

Perhaps it’s the flush in his cheeks.
The red-ribbon present-promise bow of his lips.

The openness of his expression tonight is — if not now new — bringing to the forefront of memory a time when new it was.

And for a moment I remember.

I remember… 

…the suckle-press of those bowed lips nursing at the nub of my clit…

…the push-twist of his fingers wrenching an orgasm from the primal-scream depths of my essence.

And later, it is those memories that flit in sepia-toned aged silverscreen film stills through my mind while I draw hearts with the pad of my finger through damp folds, wishing the shudder-cum elixir drip of my pleasure was pouring hot and wet into his waiting mouth.

Saturday Night Fever: Special Snowflake

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woman wearing dark blue onesie pajamas with snowflake design

Among the ‘cute’ gifts I received from my husband for Christmas last month was a super-soft pair of onesie-style snowflake pajamas.

They are perhaps not what everyone would consider ‘sexy’.

(The zipper though… It creates possibilities…)

But I love Love LOVE them.

If for no other reason than the fact that they make me feel like a very special snowflake.

😉

(And if anyone knows how to throw a Pajama Party: *I* do.)

😛

Saturday Night Fever is my new weekly posting project for 2021. Click the badge to see what it’s about, and feel free to join me here on Saturday nights if you’re feeling a bit Fever-ish. 😉

Whisper on a Scream ~ Music for 2021

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burning earth from Pixabay

State of the World

Sing with me, sing for a year
Sing for the laughter, sing for the tear

Aerosmith

I am a realist.

I strive to be a positive person but I do not have my head in the clouds (not ever, about anything, which admittedly has its downsides… mostly for the people I’m in relationships with who — at least while “in love limerance” — don’t like to have their fantasy bubbles popped). If something is out of my control, I accept that fact (sometimes begrudgingly). I try to see the possibilities in What Could Be and strive toward better things rather than dwell on What Was or spiraling into negativity, but I face reality head-on (with all the confrontational stampeding grace of a charging rhinoceros) and I am pragmatic to a fault.

Coming out of 2020… While it was a relief to at least have a time-marker for a new calendar start, it was also clear — this year more than ever for many, I think — that there is nothing magical about that date. If anything, January 1st was the impetus for spiking the punch 2020 had us guzzling. So far, 2021 has looked back at its drunken asshole compatriat 2020 and said, “Ima one-up you, bud. Here. Hold my beer,” and then proceeded to vomit all over us while attempting to dance with a lampshade on its head.

So yes: Last year sucked. So far, this year does too. It’s not going to improve quickly or soon.

But also: I absolutely refuse to not keep the faith.

And so, with an acknowledgement of those two truths, I have put together a playlist for 2021.

I’ll list the song titles individually, and you can click the menu button inside the playlist to choose an individual title if you’d like, but if you’d rather just listen to the whole thing (it’s basically an hour-long set), scroll to the bottom and click play.

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