My Whole Sex Life

Watching a guy get himself off can be really hot. Last night I got to watch Joel. I was showing him some pictures of me in the bath that Harold took a few days ago. He saw the photo at the bottom of this post and got excited, “That’s a picture I could beat off to!”

Really? Okay, cool. I emailed him the picture and settled in to read my book and fall asleep.

Then I started to hear some noises behind me. And Joel’s breathing changed. I looked over my shoulder and there’s Joel with his iPhone in one hand and the other around his cock. He’s looking at my picture. I didn’t realize that he meant right away!

It’s difficult to read when someone is getting very turned on behind me. I kept sneaking glances over my shoulder. Normally I would have just jumped him at this point, but I haven’t been feeling well. Still, I was enjoying the vicarious pleasure.

Joel must have noticed me looking because he decided to make it easier for me. He came around to my side of the bed so I could have a better view. It’s amazingly sexy to just watch his hand slide up and down his very hard cock. I like to see his face too because I’m not normally focused on that when we have sex. The face is very expressive before, during, and immediately after orgasm.

But I guess that still wasn’t close enough for Joel. He suggested that he come all over my chest, with the promise of cleaning it all up afterwards. Okay, I like that. So then he was kneeling over me with his huge cock right there. I had to remind myself that this is not my boy who is into CBT. Must not grab balls. But I could hold onto his hips.

Very soon, he was coming. Sadly there was very little ejaculate since he had beaten off the night before. I did get a few spurts and dribbles. And he did clean it up, but not with his tongue like a nice boy.

I appreciate the reminder that making love doesn’t have to mean intercourse. We don’t have to have sex, but sexual energy is a powerful way to feel more intimate. And I have to say, a still hard, dripping cock is a beautiful thing.

I’m really into breasts. I think breasts are one of the most beautiful features of the human body. I’ve almost never seen a pair of breasts that I didn’t like the look of – and I’ve seen a lot of breasts, both as a lactation educator and as a sex-positive activist! The curves are so perfect. Cleavage promises so much. And nipples…

Nipples are like the cherry on top of the sundae. I LOVE to play with nipples. Boys or girls, I adore flicking my tongue across an erect nipple, pulling the whole thing into my mouth, gently biting, squeezing, applying clothespins. Nipples are targets that say, “Take me!”

It works the other way round too. If you want to get to cunt, my breasts are a good place to start. I like to have my breasts caressed and held, not squeezed. Appreciated, adored, worshiped. When I start to arch my back, thrusting my chest closer, I want my nipples to be sucked on. Gently at first, teased, then more pressure. Give me that exquisite bliss that is so close to orgasm, but not quite there.

Joel somehow manages to suck on both of my nipples at the same time. He actually made me come this way once. It was a fabulously intense orgasm that surprised us both. Harold can totally put me over the edge into orgasm by getting me really close with his tongue on my clit and his fingers inside me then pinching my nipples. Playing with my nipples helps to draw out the pleasure – keeping me from coming too soon and sending me into long spasms of ecstasy when I’m ready.

I once attended a lecture where one of the key speakers explained that nipples are not sexual by nature, that we learn to associate sexual feelings with nipples. I certainly never felt turned on by nursing my babies, but pap smears don’t get me going either. Based on my experience of nipple stimulation going straight to my cunt, though, I would say that nipples do have some direct sexual connections.

Breasts really are the best.

I’m starting to look at college boys with a whole new appreciation. When I disclosed this to Harold, he pointed out that young bodies should certainly be appreciated. Not to mention that young adults have done enough sexual exploration to be open to some new experiences. Well, I’m a natural teacher. I have lots to teach people about sex!

I found that to be true as a teenager when I had sex with virgins. I loved teaching them all about sex. I was quite thorough. It’s a kind of immortality to be someone’s first. Since they’re gong to remember you forever, it ought to be good. But, at a certain point, I realized I was getting too old to have sex with teenaged virgins, so I moved on – to seducing straight girls.

Now I find that I miss sharing the joys of discovering sex in all it’s glory. I guess there’s no alternative. I’ll have to become a cougar, an older woman who dates younger men. Maybe even Miss Cougar America! (Yes, there’s a pageant.) I think they’ve got this pageant backwards though. Evidently, the young men vote for Miss Cougar. I think the women ought to be voting for the young men and collecting bribes and receiving favors. It just makes sense.

I’m not at a place now where I’m ready to be a cougar. I don’t think I’m technically old enough. Maybe in 10 or 20 years. I’m not hung up on the age difference. Harold is 24 years older than me. But I’m looking forward to being a generous lover to some yummy younger man – I can teach him a thing or two, be a good resource, show him how to have fun. I’m sure looking forward to that!

As I get ready to leave the island and head back home to Seattle this morning, I am reflecting on what else I’ve learned during my stay:

1. Lots of lube + warm moist climate = a need to wash up as soon as possible in order to avoid nasty chafing.
2. Relationships are complicated, but rewarding. Relationships between women are even more complicated and even more rewarding.
3. An all-girl double date is very fun, but ending up in bed together probably looks different than you’d think!
4. It’s a small island. Everyone knows someone, who knows someone, who knows you. That makes it especially courageous to be out and kinky/sex positive here.
5. I don’t always know when someone is hitting on me.
6. Flowers are the embodiment of sex. They just are.

I’m sad that my vacation has come to an end. A huge thank you to everyone who made my stay so enjoyable, and especially to my beautiful, darling girl, Erika. (I love you!) I didn’t get to see everything, so I’ll just have to come back. Mahalo!

Yesterday I got to see a different side of Hawaii – the black sand beach, near the lava flows, where the hardened lava has been beaten into sand by the ocean waves. I was struck by how deeply sexual and primordially feminine the place was. I walked through the vast open expanse of dark, hardened lava thinking, “Oh! Of course Pele is a goddess. Of course the divine resident is female.”

It totally makes sense to me, not only because I saw female genitalia everywhere I looked in the landscape around me, but also because there is something about the destructive force of nature that feels very female to me. Maybe it’s the abundant life that immediately fills the void left in the wake of such teeming chaos. On the black sand beach people bring coconuts and leave them to sprout and become trees. Maybe it’s my ability to imagine that lava is the earth menstruating. Or it could be that like all women, she reserves the right to change her clothes as often as she wants.

The beach itself was a powerful place – a liminal blending of elements. Within seconds, I was covered with a fine sheen of salty sea spray, the sparkling black sand moist beneath my feet. I stood on a rocky outcropping and watched the waves for a long time. It came to me that love is a filling up and spilling over. Fear closes us up and makes it impossible to fill up, let alone spill over. I’ve known this, but the ocean always reminds me. Love is a filling up and spilling over. Over and over, like waves.

In this meditative state, I realized something very important to me – I don’t give up myself by loving others. I am whole and complete all by myself. Like the wave rush up to caress the shore, melt into the sand, and trickle back to the ocean, I can spill out my love, become totally enmeshed with my lover, and slowly come back to myself sated and secure. I don’t lose anything by loving. The ocean changes all of the time. She gives and receives, ebbs and flows – but the ocean is always there, constant, yet changeable. Like me.

As I watched the waves some more, I saw that the spray created a rainbow as the waves crashed into the rocky shore. It was like a neon sign telling me that I was on the right track. There is hope. There is so much beauty in the world. I too can find loving vitality out of stark destruction. And really, what if love and beauty are the birthright of every human on the planet?

Today I learned some valuable lessons here in Hawaii:

1. Be careful what you do under water. Most people are wearing snorkeling goggles and the water is totally clear.
2. Swimming is like sex. It works better if you relax and trust that your body knows what it’s doing.
3. There is no easy and tactful way to say, “Hey, I really like you. You turn me on. You can stick your fingers in me any time you want.”

I’m in Hawaii now with Erika! I’m really grooving on how wild and primal it is here. I’m literally in the jungle. I fell asleep last night to a raucous chorus of frogs and who knows what other beasties. Why didn’t I realize that Hawaii was lush and feral?

I’m on the east side of the Big Island and I’m loving how incredibly sensuous everything is. The scent of exotic blossoms and moist earthy rot fill the air. The sun warms my skin and tiny rivulets of sweat trickle down my spine and between my breasts. I stepped outside this morning after a refreshing rain, feeling everything squish between my toes. I ate ripe guava fresh from the tree for breakfast and a strangely savage fruit, mangosteen, that filled my mouth with fabulous sweetly exotic juices. It’s never quiet here, yet the sounds are very soothing. Beauty is everywhere – from the extravagantly flowering foliage to Erika’s smile.

And maybe it’s just me, but even the plant life seems pretty suggestive. See if you don’t get what I mean…

Harold and I have decided to work together to seduce beautiful and unsuspecting boys and girls.

I believe in team work. I think that together we are bound to be irresistible. We can charm them right out of their skimpy sundresses and skin-tight button-fly jeans. And we have a lot to offer: fascinating conversation, intimate attention, and mind-blowing sex. Yep, we have mad skilz. Time to share with the world!

I like the idea of leaving our darlings quivering, yet sated, as we ride off into the night. They will slip into an exhausted and blissful sleep, dreaming of putting their newly explored talents to use with their friends and lovers. And who exactly were those dildoed strangers?

It’s good to have goals.