Aug 082015

A cloudy summer afternoon in the tree house…

Naked in the tree house

…feeling the air on my skin…


…talking about serious things while the leaves drift down…

Foot play

…he begins to stir under my foot…

From behind

“What does it look like from up there?”


…the sweetest release…


…relaxed, smug, and connected to the universe…

Blood offering

…a single drop of blood left in thanks.”



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Sinful Sunday
Mar 152015

I should finishing up my final work for my college course, but in the time honored tradition of students everywhere, I am distracting myself. Have you ever seen the way that testicles move around while at rest? No really, it’s mesmerizing. I made you a little video…


Testicles move constantly to regulate temperature or react to arousal. I think it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen! Is this not totally awesome?!? Okay, fine…I’ll go write my paper now.

Oct 262014

Boots and cuffsThere are some really great things about being polyamorous. One of them was coming home around one in the morning (wearing only knee high boots and bondage cuffs) and having my partner, Joel, only cock an eyebrow and ask if I had a good time.

I had a fabulous time with DW! When I showed up at his door the kissing was passionate and intense. It lead to me, on my knees, appreciating the finer points of button-fly Levis. And then to DW buckling handcrafted black leather cuffs around my wrists. It made me very happy.

Cuffs and bootsWe went to a party full of poly folk. I realized how odd and awesome it is to not know who people are in relationships with. It’s different than most social situations where everyone is seen as part of a package. In fact, it felt strange for me to be at a party without one of my primary partners.

That didn’t stop me from ditching my clothes as soon as possible. I joined a cuddle pile. DW tied me up in beautiful ways and did things that made me come. I got the spanking I asked for, with people passing by the room. Have I mentioned that I like to kiss this man? When it was time to go, DW shook his head when I picked up my clothes, handing me his leather jacket instead. It felt deliciously deviant to go home that way!

So yes, Joel, I had a good time.
Sinful Sunday

Nov 172013

My hands are bound. My soul is laid bare. This cage you keep me in is the the arena of our desire. I am yours – utterly, completely, totally. I like to struggle. I enjoy the frustration of your teasing touch. I am breathless, wondering what you will do to me.


We have built a web, strand by strand, kiss by kiss, and I wait for you at the center. I like the anticipation of knowing you are coming, my mate, my friend. I will let you sneak up on me, then perhaps I will devour you.

inside the web

I am your canvas. Trace your vision across my flesh. There is art in every charged touch of your hand, every flick of your wicked tongue, every slow thrust of your hips. Teach me to dance and release me from this cage.

Teach me to fly



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Sinful Sunday

Nov 012013

Beautiful morningA few days ago Harold (my partner in life, love, and hare-brained scheming) turned 65.  He’s not much for celebrating, but we wanted to do something special. Of course we wanted to make love, but what else? We couldn’t think of just the right thing until the day before. I don’t remember now, how tattoos came up. Initially it was sort of a dare or a jest, then we started talking about tattoos as a form of submission to each other – how cool it would be to channel the energy of pain and excitement into sexual energy.

What if I gave my pain to him while I was being marked by his symbol? What if he actually brought me to orgasm while I was being tattooed? We were intrigued by the possibilities, but neither of us was sure there was a permanent mark we were willing to take on. We had feverish conversations throughout the eve of his birthday. Optimistically I made us an appointment.

The next morning we got together early. I wanted to shower and spend some time connecting, so I started up some Janis Joplin and both of us squeezed into a shower clearly made for one. I adore hot water and slick soapy skin. Things were starting to heat up.

With his cock hard in my hand, I asked Harold what he wanted sexually. Like normal, he temporized, telling me to just go with what I felt was right. I’ve been pushing him more to think about and vocalize the things he desires, so I didn’t let him off the hook.

Going downHe began to talk about me punishing him somehow. I was in an excited sexy place, so it took me a few minutes to realize that the energy had changed between us. It stopped feeling sexy. I immediately centered myself and opened up to Harold. I sat him down on the toilet seat and straddled him, wrapping my arms around him. I could feel some pain from his childhood there – something that I had triggered when we fought  last week. We talked through it until it felt okay for us both. We do this kind of thing a lot and it makes for much better sex.

We walked down to the cabin in the glorious morning sunshine, wearing only shoes and coats. The chill air on my thighs and the thrill of being naked outdoors started to make me wet. There was already a fire going in the cabin. We proceeded to have some of the hottest sex we’ve had in a long time. He went down on me until I came. I strung him up in cuffs and did wicked things to his nipples and balls. I pushed him more than I ever have before and we both reached new heights.

IMG_3613When neither of us could wait another second, I bent over in front of him and let him fuck me from behind, his arms still suspended above his head. This is one of my favorite positions. I bent over the bed, where I had all of my tools spread out. He pounded into me. I rocked forward with each thrust, my breath coming out in harsh gasps, escalating to full throated moans, followed shortly by Harold’s ecstatic bellows.

Evidently my head was bumping my phone in the final throes of Harold’s birthday sex and Siri heard our vocalizations. Her voice surprised us, “I do not understand ‘who, who, who, who.’ I could search the Internet for you.” I laughed hysterically when I figured out what was going on.

From there we drove to to get tattoos, anticipation and anxiety sharing equal space. We knew what we wanted but we weren’t sure where. We talked through the positives and negatives of every possible location. Eventually we went with what felt right for each of us.

Harold and his tattooHarold went first. You have to understand that he’s never wanted a tattoo before. The fact that he celebrated turning 65 by getting his first tattoo is very inspirational to me. I think he enjoyed the process. He got spacey in a charming way, holding my hand. Afterwards, he was proud and blissed out. I love him so much.

This was not my first dance, but I was shocked by how intense the pain was in the tender flesh of my upper stomach. It got better over time, but initially there was no way that I could have sexualized that sensation. I’m just not a masochist. What I did do, over and over, was send the energy to Harold, giving him my pain, taking his mark. He held my hand and touched my face.

After, we were so high on endorphins. I felt amazing. We had so much fun.

We went home to my darling husband, who had prepared an incredible and gorgeous conch and squid ceviche just for Harold. Joel had even managed to find Harold’s favorite alcoholic beverage, Punt è Mes, which is rare in these parts. (Have I mentioned that sometimes it is unbelievably awesome to have two partners who care about each other?) The children had all made birthday cards and gotten him flowers. More glowy happiness!

Heart and delta tattooHarold spent some time talking with his wife and I put the kids to bed. We fell into each other’s arms and the softness of bed. Tired happiness gave way to gentle kisses. deep probing kisses became grinding gyrations. Without any thought we were making love again. Happy birthday Baby and many more…

Oct 232013
Harold ready and waiting

He opened his mouth wide and told me to go, but I couldn’t figure out how to aim.

I didn’t plan on peeing on him. I didn’t wake up and think, hey, I can’t wait to cover him in urine. I didn’t anticipate standing naked over him in the bright light and chill air of an Autumn afternoon, but there I was. I looked at him, his mouth open and eyes tightly closed, so ready to accept me. I had to go so badly I could barely keep it in, but when the moment came I hesitated. Because, well, you just don’t pee on people, I guess, especially people you love – unless they have asked you very sweetly to do so.

Just when I think I’ve experimented with all of the deviant things that have ever sounded hot to me, something comes up that I have to try (or try again), just in case. I’ve talked before about peeing and my explorations with urinating outside because it’s been so freeing and empowering. But peeing rarely feels at all sexual for me. If anything, it brings up a childlike mischievousness.

Harold started asking me to pee on him right at the beginning of our relationship. At first I kind of laughed him off. Then I said that he’d never get me to do that, knowing full well that he would talk me into it eventually, but I was determined to make him earn that victory. He would say, “Come on, pee in my mouth. Then you will know that there isn’t any part of you that I don’t want.” I was just thankful he wasn’t asking for my shit.

I had a certain squick reaction. I know that urine is sterile and not a problem unless you are really sick, but early toilet training that says pee is dirty is pretty strong. I know that I am not at all interested in being peed on myself. But would it really be so bad to give Harold what he wanted? Did I actually have a reason to be squicked or just conditioning?

The drowned god

At one point I was pretty sure Harold was going to drown and I was going to have to explain.

Eventually I gave in to his suggestions and squatted over his face to let a small stream of urine into his mouth. It helped that I had been practicing peeing outside and gotten skilled. We felt victorious to have accomplished this desire of his. It wasn’t sexual, although it had the feel of something forbidden. We didn’t get turned on, just felt closer to each other.

For a while that was good enough. Years have gone by. Lately Harold has been suggesting I pee in his mouth again. I’ve been questioning him, trying to understand. Is it a fetish? It seems not – for some people doing something “dirty” would be erotic. For Harold it’s part childlike curiosity about how girls’ bodies work, part wanting to break down taboos, and part desire for absolute intimacy. I can understand all that. I have to admit that in a totally geeky Dune kind of way, sharing my body’s waters with someone seems like a sign of deep respect.

Yesterday, Harold and I enjoyed a rare 6 hour long date with each other. Midway through, when we were sweaty and naked in front of the fire, I realized that I had gone through nearly a liter of water and I needed to pee terribly badly. I had been waiting because it can be easier to orgasm if my bladder is full, but it had reached emergency level of urgency. Harold again said, “Why don’t you just pee in my mouth?” Well, okay, I thought. Why not take one for science? Let’s see what happens.

Adrift on golden bliss

I was surprised at how blissful Harold looked in the throes of being showered on.

It took us a few more minutes to negotiate and come up with a plan. I insisted that we needed photos. We decided to go outside, even though it was cold because clean up would be easier. This is how I found myself poised over Harold’s prone naked body, camera in hand, giggling like crazy and trying not to pee until I was ready.

I felt awkward. Nothing in my life had really prepared me for this scenario. Harold had his mouth open and I couldn’t figure out how to take pictures. Have you ever had to pee so bad that you couldn’t remember how to relax the right muscles and let go? Yeah. I was nervous. I finally managed to start and it was a huge gush. Harold moved up to catch it. I was fascinated and slightly appalled watching him sputter and gasp. I was afraid he would drown and I have have to explain to the paramedics. And his wife. Taking pics was nearly impossible.

I stopped urinating as soon as I could control the flow. Harold laid back with a dreamy smile. I still had to go, so I just stood there straddling him, both of us watching the steady stream hit his belly. I’ve been taking my vitamins, so my pee is that lovely fluorescent color. I had a moment of surrender then, where I just let go of everything. I didn’t realize until that moment how much I hold back in my body. Right then I could see the erotic potential of golden showers. Warm body fluids connected us. It was a blessing or a benediction – like being born or christened, like holy water. His soul felt wide open to me.

Splash zone

I was taken by the artful and wide-spread spatter zone.

That moment passed. Fluids cooled, leaving us both chilled. I looked at Harold and wondered if I could ever kiss him again, then found that I could. We congratulated ourselves like kids getting away with something and ran inside to dry off. In the seamless way we have, we continued to make love.

I don’t know if this is territory that we’ll ever traverse again, but at least we had a good visit. Harold got his intimacy and acceptance. I got a glimpse of a Top space where I could really let go of everything. Golden showers are a weird and wild place. I’m intrigued, sort of in spite of myself.

Oct 012013

Wrapped in a sheetHave you wondered what it would feel like to make love for hours on end? Could you take sex to such a sacred level that everything you do together is about sustained attraction and pleasure? Could you open your heart and let your partner flow through you?

We had 40 hours alone together in an alpine chalet. We made love for every minute of it, so happy to share company, so enraptured by each other’s pleasure, that everything we did was infused with love. Every time we are together we create a bond that goes deeper.

We made love for 40 hours, holed up in a tiny rundown a-frame. I said “made love”, not fucked, although we did lots of fucking. No, I mean we created love between us. We slept wrapped in each other’s arms, breathing in the scent of our sweat on each other’s skin. We slept in blissful golden safety.

When we woke in the morning, our desire peaked. The river rushed by our window and we simply merged – his mouth driving me wild, fingers inside me, my orgasm stretching out, taking his proud erection in my mouth.  We paused as he entered me. Is this what we wanted? We had all day…

Almost thereBut I’m all for taking pleasure in the moment. We never know what will come. No regrets, fuck now and hope fore more later. We fucked and the sweetness built between us. He filled me with his jism.

For 40 hours we made love with every action. We nibbled on finger foods, drank orange juice and coffee. I feel loved when I am fed. He shows love by providing for me. Food is such a sensual joy when we take time to enjoy it.

I meditated on the bed, feeling his presence strong beside me. I spiraled deep inside myself, seeing everything laid out before me. Anchored by his love, I healed parts of me that had been broken. Stretched out beside his warm body, I experienced a clarity that is often elusive. When I opened my eyes to his smile, I knew he could feel it too.

We cuddled in the hot tub, rain pouring down, but the mountains gorgeous around us. I couldn’t keep my fingers from his skin. I watched his lips when he talked, needing to kiss them.

We surrounded ourselves in music, filling the small space with rhythms and lyrics that conjured up our past, times before we were together and since our lives have slowly grown together. Sometimes the music felt like it was my whole being and sometimes it was the backdrop of our conversation. We danced.

Harold made upI laid him out in front of the gas fireplace. Naked in a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor, I sat on his hips and made up his face. Touching a lover’s face is one of the most intimate things I can imagine and I loved making him my art. I was conscious of my cunt moist against his semi-erect cock, but I was intent on applying eyeliner. He never looks effeminate in make-up, it’s more that his fey nature shines through.

Talking seamlessly moved into oral sex and back. I hovered on the edge of orgasm. We fucked in spurts, laced with making out and kinky bits. I spanked him with a hairbrush, but it was my soft caresses that made him cry. We made love before and after eating, in and out of the hot tub, all over the cabin. Always, we stopped short of coming, letting our energy build.

We tumbled into bed, a bit sore, yet still full of need. A storm raged outside and the power went out, plunging us into total darkness. I felt afraid and slept holding his hand, a flashlight clutched in the other. There was a kind of isolation in that darkness, like being wrapped in a cocoon, but in some way we were still making love. It was just the two of us, far away from the rest of the world.

In the morning, he pampered me – an array of breakfast delights, my vibrator, and kisses all over. I finally found release with the help of his hands and it was incredibly sweet. I took over and spent some time focused on his body. It’s such a gift to have him give himself to me like that.

End of the weekendWe talked more in the hot tub. He broke through some wall I didn’t know was there. One moment we were drying off and the next I was crouched on the floor sobbing. He wrapped his whole body around me and held me while grief thundered out of me. I dripped snot into his hair.

We cleaned up and left. It wasn’t nearly enough, it’s never enough, but we so desperately need these times to connect with each other. We had 40 hours together in a run-down a-frame and we made every second count. What I know is that every second always counts. I want to make love every moment because I don’t know how much time we’ll have together in this world, but the love we make is real and will stay with me forever.

Jun 162013

Dark moist heat cradles me. Sweat trickles down my flesh like a lover’s caress. Rivulets slide between my breasts and down the backs of my knees. I feel safe and sexy, breathing in the scent of cedar, feeling my muscles release tension. I start to fantasize – parting my legs for his tongue to lick sweat from my creases, our slick hot bodies coming together on the wooden slats, slowly pouring cool water over ourselves as we recover from our passions…




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Sinful Sunday