My Whole Sex Life

To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.” -Oscar Wilde

With Mother’s Day coming up, my family has been asking what they can do to celebrate me. Honestly, I feel honored, loved, and cared for pretty much every day. I know that I hold a special place in my family. I’m not one to turn down breakfast in bed or some hand drawn cards, but what I really need is some quality time by myself.

My children are my top priority. After that, I take time each week to have a date with each of my partners. Everyone works together to take care of the house and I have my own work. I do have some time for myself built into the system, but it often gets filled up with doctor’s appointments, shopping, cleaning, or meetings. Sadly, when I get time to myself in the evening, I usually fall asleep.

I do masturbate regularly. It means a lot to me to be able to give pleasure to myself at any time. I’ve realized though, that I am not giving myself the kind of attention that I would give to a partner. Quick and easy orgasms in the shower or at bedtime have immense value, but what if I were to actually make love to myself with deliberate intention?

So, for all of the moms out there – actually, EVERYONE – I offer a suggestion: schedule a date with yourself. Nourishing your own sacred sexuality is a gift that stays with you forever and not only benefits you, but everyone you love.

Here are some tips to get you started:

1. Find time and space to be alone. It’s important to give yourself several hours. If you can’t manage to be alone at home, or if being at home is too distracting, consider other creative solutions – renting a hot tub room, finding a totally private spot in nature, getting a hotel room for the night, or borrowing a friend’s home. Make sure that your children are in capable hands and that someone else will be responsible for anything that comes up.
   
2. Set the stage. Creating a special mood can enhance your experience. Putting clean sheets on the bed or lighting some candles sets this experience aside as something special. Play music that feels sexy to you. Get anything you might need (like drinking water, vibrator, or massage oil) readily available. Go naked, or wear something that feels sexy.
3. Relax. If you are anything like me, this might take a while. Turn off your phone. Step away from the computer. Do something that will help you let go of the daily stresses, whether that’s taking a walk, having a glass of wine, or sinking into a bubble bath. Focus on deep, even breaths, releasing tension with each exhale. Think about the things that make you happy.
4. Fantasize. Start letting out those private thoughts that get you turned on. Is there a movie star who makes you swoon? Some sex act too kinky to admit to your partner, but it gets your juices going? Bring it out! For this date with yourself, anything is possible.
5. Experience sensation. Wake up your skin. Start at your toes and work your way up, barely brushing over your erogenous zones. I like to keep my underwear on for this stage because the indirect stimulation to my genitals drives me wild. Use fingernails, feathers, massage oil, a wartenberg wheel, or whatever feel good and exciting to you. Pay attention to your whole body.
6. Build the energy. Slowly pay more attention to the areas that increase your arousal, like nipples, pubic area, and asshole – circling away and returning over and over. Listen to your body and your emotions. You want to prolong your pleasure as long as you can stand it.
7. Go for orgasm. This is a perfect time to introduce lube, a vibrator, a dildo, or whatever gets you off. You still want to draw out your pleasure, but now you can give yourself permission to focus on those areas that will lead to orgasm. Hold love for yourself in your heart and let it infuse your whole being. If you can stand the tension, bring yourself right to the edge of orgasm and back away again. When everything feels right, let the orgasm spill over.
8. Release. Just let go. You can send any residual stress out of your body on each wave of pleasure. If it feels good, try to prolong your orgasm or pause for a moment and start over at building to a new release.
9. Take care of yourself. You can give yourself aftercare. Give yourself plenty of time to bask in the good feelings. Let love for yourself seep into your skin. This is when I feel closest to the divine. You could go back to gentle sensations or drift into a few minutes of lucid dreaming. Drink water or eat a snack if you need to feel more grounded. Or jump up and run around naked. Whatever it is that makes you feel in love with yourself, do it now.

I don’t always orgasm when I make love to myself and that’s okay. When I’m by myself, I don’t have the stress of a partner who really wants to make me come. My only objectives are to love myself and experience pleasure. It’s a perfect time to explore the things that turn me on and develop a stronger understanding of my body.

As a mom, it’s sometimes hard to feel like I own myself, my time, my body. I don’t often get a chance to make love to myself, but when I do, I feel better all over. I challenge you all, but especially the moms on this Mother’s Day, to give yourself this gift!

I like sex in all seasons, but I am especially gleeful when it is time to fuck outdoors again. This past week has seen a wide range of activity and temperature.

A week ago I woke up to it snowing. I spent a quiet morning in bed with my coffee, watching the flakes drift down and stick to the tree bows. That afternoon I made love with Harold in the cabin, by the blazing fire. I took him hard, pushing his limits, making him mine. I cuffed his wrists over his head and did terrible things to his balls. Bondage combined with cock-and-ball tease might be my favorite thing ever. I enjoy taking control and overwhelming him with sensation.

Only two days after it snowed, we fucked outside for the first time of the season. It was suddenly 75 degrees. I was reading on my little veranda and Harold came to talk to me. It was one of those situations where all of a sudden I was just turned on. The sun and fresh air swept us up and we had to be as close as possible.

At first Harold got me off and I thought that was going to be it. Sometimes we focus on one or the other of us – simply following what feels right. But this time I really wanted to fuck. I needed the primal connection between us. Harold took a little persuading, but I can be persuasive. I’m good with my mouth and my hands.

When he entered me, everything in the universe felt right. His cock hit just the perfect spot inside me, the sun was shining, the green leaves waved above me, and I could drink in his golden love like honey. Whatever else we have going on in our lives, we have moments like this.

And it got better! A couple of nights ago I had a beautiful group sex experience. It was incredible to be surrounded by people I trust who are all focused on my pleasure. I stopped taking care of everyone else and opened myself to being receptive. Six pairs of hands caressed me all over; lips brushed my flesh. When I asked for it, 60 fingers lightly scratched me from head to toe. I floated in pure bliss for what felt like forever.

It was a gorgeous night. We lay on cushions and blankets before the bonfire, looking up through leafy branches at the brilliant stars in the clear night sky. I was both sweaty and cold, naked under the blankets, limbs tangled on either side, full of love and lust. I felt Harold’s breath against my neck as I listened to people making love on either side. I watched Joel’s face as he gave himself to a woman I admire, respect, and care about very much. I am thankful for that moment of observation, when I realized that I was experiencing a perfect moment.

Like sunshine in Western Washington, sex is meant to be somewhat ephemeral. We get swept up and filled with joy. Sex should make us feel good, whatever we are into, and we can carry those good feelings into all the other areas of our lives. But by all means, fuck outdoors when you get a chance.

Is it possible to have too much sex?

My brain and my sex drive say no way, but my body would like to object. I’ve been trying to strike a balance between the two, finding new and more creative ways to gratify my desire for sex, while giving my more delicate bits a rest. I’m a cheerful mess.

The muscles in my thighs and shoulders are sore – the result of some aerobic fucking. My clitoris is hot and throbbing. Masturbation and vibrator use has quite worn it out. Despite my attempts to stop pushing the button, sometimes the need has simply overcome my good intentions. Experiencing a little bit of a stinging sensation last night convinced me to stick with penetration. All the area of my mons is bruised from too much pressure and impact. There is a dull ache in my lower abdomen, presumably from repeated thrusting deep inside my cunt. My breasts feel overly full, nipples relaying an ecstatic thrill with every random graze of touch.

It actually makes me happy to be aware of my body this way. Sometimes my lust builds on itself, with my heightened awareness of my physical responses turning me on even more. For example, driving a distance home after rough sex and being doubly aroused by the seam of my jeans rubbing across my clit reminds me that I am a highly sexual being who needs release. It’s a cycle that winds me up to great peaks of pleasure.

Maintaining a constant (even low grade) level of arousal can be a lot of fun. Harold and I spent about 24 hours before our last date engaging in fantasy, making out, and a tiny bit of heavy petting. We did our best to inflame passion in each other. He offered to go down on me in a parking lot, but I wasn’t that far gone. I prefer my exhibitionism to be consensual for everyone.

The morning of our date I took a long luxurious bath, reading erotica and chatting with Harold over IM. For the first time in ages I got myself off with my fingers. Then I carefully chose my clothing to fit my mood and the fantasy we had been discussing. Everything helped to set the stage for our time together.

When we made it down to the cabin, I had some idea of taking photos, but we were both too excited. My cunt was soaking wet. I was breathless with anticipation. One kiss led to a big open mouth, tongue thrusting make out session. With every step we took, we fell further down the rabbit hole. Like dominos, each action inevitably brought us to the next, elevating our desire to a firery fierceness. We wrung every bit of pleasure out of that afternoon.

Letting the intensity die down a bit after that, I was able to listen to my body complain about being used so hard. I paid attention. I put antibiotic ointment on my clit because it stung like a fingernail scratch. I took cranberry supplements to stave off any chance of bladder infection from so much oral sex. I used a boric acid capsule in my cunt to avoid a yeast infection from penetration, even though Harold used gloves for digital manipulation. I take care of myself.

Our connection didn’t totally die. When we climbed into bed and fell into each other’s arms I felt the lust surge back up again. I wanted this man, wanted to hold him inside me, wanted to thrust into his soul. He was hard almost immediately and I was ready to go without any foreplay. We fucked for a second time that day, lush and lusting. When we were done I used the vibrator to come again.

I’m still going through my day feeling mildly aroused. Despite various pangs, I masturbated in the shower this morning. I am walking a knife’s edge between maintaining physical comfort and fulfilling physical desire. If my mind or emotions ever tell me to stop, I will. Sometimes this much intensity makes me feel uncomfortable. Occasionally, frustration over lack of fulfillment makes me break down.

Is this sex addiction? I don’t think such a thing exists. Can you be addicted to love? Or air? Everyone needs sex. It’s true that some people are prone to obsessive behavior around sex. People tend to make the same mistakes over and over, hoping for a better outcome, but addiction? My behavior during these times doesn’t hurt anyone and isn’t out of control. It’s more like living in a favorite erotic novel.

Too much sex? No, not yet enough for me.

I like to cook. Food is a fascinating artistic medium as well as a sensuous pleasure. I enjoy experimenting with taste, texture, and color. Baking is science and I want to experiment with all of the possibilities. Our family has a variety of dietary limitations so I am constantly challenged to find interesting solutions to traditional recipes. Thankfully, since I spend a lot of time in the kitchen, cooking with a partner gets me hot. All of the smelling and tasting and kissing goes right to my cunt. On more than one occasion we have ended up naked on the kitchen floor, rolling around covered in olive oil.

Yesterday I wanted to get a head start on my holiday preparations while the children were still at school by baking pumpkin pies. I also asked Blyss to help me with some sexy photos. Why not combine the two since the kitchen is loaded with erotic potential? This fun and hotness ensued…

The immersion blender is so phallic and full of vibration. It’s giving me ideas!

Just a taste. I like to lick.

This coconut milk is so creamy. I just want…

The creamy milk covers my tongue and drips down my chest, warm and sweet.

It feels so sensuous to have the coconut milk run down my chin and between my breasts. I want more.

Coconut milk covers my breast and nipple, lusciously  dripping on my belly.

I need to try out the sensation on my back. My cunt starts opening with the erotic flow of sweet liquid pouring over my ass. I haven’t had this much fun in a while.

A silken sheen covers my body as I slide in the pooled milk. I long to be fucked.

I’m beyond turned on, in that place where I need release so bad. What can I do?

I’m embarrassed to be this intimate with a kitchen tool, but this wire whisk has a handle just perfect for fucking.

I clutch the whisk, driving it deeper toward my g-spot. I can’t believe how good it feels.

I am finally sated, covered head to toe in coconut milk and blissfully happy. And I have just enough time to mop the floor and take a shower before the children get home!

(Photos by Blyss Enns)

Labels get in the way sometimes. I’ve been asking myself if I’m a sadist or a masochist, as though there is a continuum with each term on either end. What I’m coming to understand is that sadism and masochism are separate things. It doesn’t have to be either/or, you can enjoy giving and receiving pain. Or neither. I’m not hung up on the labels, I just want to understand myself and be able to communicate my preferences to others.

I’m not much into pain. I don’t get off on feeling pain, but… sometimes pain is a very nice sensation in the midst of sexual play, like having my nipples pinched when I’m just about to come. The important thing is context – foreplay. I don’t like to be fucked dry and I don’t enjoy being slapped in the face over dinner, but if we work up to it and I’m in the right frame of mind, I would love to be fucked and slapped. Does that make me a masochist?

Maybe if we make a scale of masochism from 0 to 10, with 0 being no fucking way and 10 being I can’t get off without experiencing a lot of pain. Then I think I’m maybe a 2 or a 3.

If we have the same scale for sadism, with 0 being I would never hurt anyone and 10 being I whipped 3 people before breakfast, then I’m probably still a 2 or a 3. I was just starting to believe that maybe I was a bit of a sadist when I tried it out for real.

I was angry yesterday – one of those days where I just hate everyone and everything for no particular reason. I tried talking it out, first with Joel, then with Harold. I was feeling like having some rough sex and so was Harold, so I strung him up in leather cuffs. I tied up his balls and gave him a thorough work over. I started with some squeezing and light taps and steadily increased intensity until he was sagging in his cuffs.

This may seem like sadism on my part, but it’s not. No really. I love doing CBT (cock and ball torture) with Harold because he loves it. It turns me on to see him respond so much to something I am doing to his body. I like kissing him and blowing him for the same reason – he gets off on it. Harold’s obvious enjoyment gets me totally fucking wet. Am I sadistic if he likes it?

But I was feeling pissy. I thought that maybe I could work out some of my anger on Harold. For all that he loves to have his balls abused, he is not into cock torture. I decided that I would inflict a huge amount of pain on him by caning his penis, thereby assuaging my rage. I got his consent, making sure that he understood. He is a dear man and was willing to put himself in my hands for whatever I needed to do.

I was very nervous. That’s probably why I missed on the first stroke. I hit him on the chest. The chest is nowhere near the cock. I was mortified at how un-smooth my moves were. All of my anger kind of dissipated in my embarrassment and concern over the welt that was forming. Still, I gathered my resolve and tried again. This time I hit at the base of his cock, instantly forming a series of purple blood blisters. I was horrified. I actually hurt him!

This is why I say I am not a sadist. Causing pain makes me anxious, not horny. Unless of course, my partner is into pain, and then I’m totally there. I have liked pushing Harold’s boundaries, but only where it turned him on. Yes, I do amazingly painful things to his balls, but is it perceived as pain?

This is what it’s like in my head. I think about this kind of thing a lot, but it’s all just labels. In the end, the only thing that matters is what works for you and your partners. Examining my inner workings can be excruciating… and if I’m not a masochist (or a sadist), why am I torturing myself?

Related posts:

• Lust for power
• Top or bottom?
• Falling over the edge (play)
• All of you
• Pain and sex

I’ve reviewed so many sex toys that I thought perhaps it was time to go back to one of the classics, My Hand. My Hand came with the original package and has grown and evolved with my needs over the years. In some ways it is the ultimate sex toy, the thing that all sex toys attempt to do better.

Versatility is really key with My Hand. Not only can My Hand be utilized to bring pleasure to myself, it can also be used with any of my partners! This amazing piece of equipment can replace a paddle, a vibrator, a dildo, a men’s masturbatory sleeve, a butt plug, and some nipple clamps. My Hand also feels amazing just skimming along the skin’s surface or digging in for deep massage.

I used to use My Hand to get myself off, but over time I’ve come to enjoy vibrators more. If My Hand has a flaw, it’s that I can’t get it to vibrate fast enough. Still, it’s always handy in a pinch. It’s very flexible and easy to position, always the right temperature, and usually just the right size. Regretfully, I am unable to reach my own g-spot with My Hand.

I can reach my girlfriend’s g-spot however. My Hand transmits an amazing amount of sensation. Having My Hand inside of her is one of my favorite things in life. I can also squeeze and tease her nipples with My Hand. My Hand is also quite useful with my men, especially around the cock and balls, where some digital manipulation is well received. My Hand is fantastic at squeezing, rubbing, and pumping. But that’s not all! My Hand also has some probing action – perfect for back-door play. In fact, nothing is better for prostate stimulation than My Hand. Impact play is a natural, of course. You can’t get any more basic than slapping and spanking.

There are times when My Hand does not have a long enough reach. I should point out, while the power supply is phenomenal (no batteries!), the energy is not infinite. My Hand does sometimes get tired and may even cramp. Also, it requires some upkeep. Mainly, nail trimming and moisturizing. My Hand is a snap to clean though – just use soap and warm water. And safer sex is smooth in a non-latex glove. I think My Hand looks suave and stylish in the black ones.

My Hand comes in a variety of colors, most of them perfectly suited to the owner – none of that terrible pink color that many sex toys come in. No sex toy can compete with the portability of My Hand (except perhaps My Tongue). My Hand won’t take up valuable luggage space or invite ridicule from TSA agents.

I just adore how subtle My Hand is. I use it every day in millions of ways, have it right out in plain sight, and no one would ever guess that I just had My Hand in my partner’s ass. It’s that great! I can shake hands at a business meeting and they would only know that I use My Hand to spank my partner if they read my blog. I love mixing it up like that, as though our bodies are just normal when we have sex. It’s so cool.

My Hand is way more than a sex toy. I use it to flip people off, write, pick my nose, scratch backs, and tie shoes. I’ve never had a dildo that could do all of that. No, My Hand is pretty fucking brilliant. And the best part is the low, low cost. Unless you’ve somehow lost the one you were born with (or managed to be born without one), My Hand is in your grasp right now.

Bottom line: don’t wave goodbye to the vibrator just yet, but give a round of applause to My Hand.

Grade: A-

Other posts you might enjoy:

• Review – Fun Factory’s Stronic Zwei
• Review: Fun Factory’s Amor
• Review: njoy Fun Wand
• Lubricant update
• Prostate milking
• Water-based lubes from lousy to lubricious
• Five days of porn

FleshWrap, by Ntimate, has me more excited than any toy I’ve reviewed in the past year (except maybe the Mystic Wand). It’s difficult to explain, but the results are spectacular. It’s a “male pleasure system,” different from anything I’ve ever seen, and Harold and I have tried a lot of testicular experiments.

Don’t get me wrong, FleshWrap is not a CBT device. It’s like an oval made of hypoallergenic polycarbonate rod, bent into the shape of a taco. You massage and stretch the testicles until you can place the scrotum into the FleshWrap, with one end up against the perineum and the other resting against the balls. Then you carefully work the skin of the scrotum into the frame until you have enough room to insert a stainless-steel crossbar that holds everything in place. I know that sounds confusing, but it’s fairly easy in practice, and just takes a bit of time. Harold can do it faster by himself, but I think it’s more fun as part of our foreplay. I only worry that I might pinch him!

The result of wearing a FleshWrap is that the balls are pushed up toward the cock, while putting pressure on the perineum. It pulls the skin of the penis tighter, increasing hardness. It had an amazing effect on Harold. His erections while wearing this product have been incredible. We’ve even been able to fuck at times when he didn’t expect to be able to. His orgasms were improved because of the extra stimulation to his balls. It seemed to work especially well when I was on top.

Of course, we are into CBT, so we used FleshWrap to get up to some serious stuff. We usually tie off Harold’s balls for any kind of impact play. If he’s standing, I like to stretch his balls down. I love Fleshwrap when he is lying down because his balls are presented to me so perfectly. It also gives him a hard-on in an impressive way. I can smack his balls easily in this position. We also used FleshWrap as a platform for some needle play that was very successful.

Sadly, Fleshwrap does not fit all men. They say on their website that you have to be able to put your thumb and forefinger around the base of your scrotum after some massage and stretching. I know it also helps to be in a warm environment, but Joel was not able to fit into the FleshWrap no matter what. I hadn’t realized that there were such dramatic differences in scrotum type. Joel’s is more round, Harold’s more dangly. I was very disappointed not to get a second perspective.

I would mention that it’s easy to get confused about which way the FleshWrap goes. It can be frustrating to be trying to insert the crossbar and it not fitting no matter what you do, until you figure out that you’ve got the frame turned sideways. Two different sized frames come in the package, along with two different sized bars, and each bar can be used with either frame. While this gives you a fair amount of latitude for finding the best possible fit, we didn’t notice much difference no matter what the combination. The largest frame and smallest bar was the easiest to get into to.

I am so impressed with and excited by this device! I wish I could use it on both of my guys. I recommend Fleshwrap for everyone with a scrotum. Don’t be scared off if ball pain makes you cringe, because FleshWrap is NOT just a CBT toy, although it’s certainly an excellent starting point for CBT. I really love balls. I love to caress them and suck on them and squeeze them – and now I want to put them in a FleshWrap.

Bottom line: try out this brilliant scrotum device for intense pleasure!

Grade: A-

You might also be interested in these posts:

• Coming outside the box
• Video – My Sex Object
• Viagra leads to math
• All of you
• NOT Computer Based Training

I took a really long shower today. I’ve been so turned on lately. Harold and I had sex before I even got out of bed this morning, but then the children got into an argument and needed us before I came. It’s difficult for me to let go enough to orgasm with the children downstairs. I know that I might need to launch into mommy mode at any second so I don’t fully relax. But the shower is another matter.

The kids rarely enter the bathroom when I’m there – and they never open the shower door. I’m supposed to be naked there, so nothing is unusual. This morning Harold was handling everything for me anyway so no interruptions. I could luxuriate to my heart’s content – or until the hot water ran out.

I take my time when I make love to a partner, but when I masturbate it’s often very brief and businesslike. Today I focused on sensation, loving myself, and honoring my sexuality. Yes, I got myself off and it was hot.

I used the rough shower stream on my nipples, a vibrator on my clit, and an internal bullet vibe to come against. All the sensations combined to put me over the top. But I also spent time just letting the warm water flow against my skin. I let go of my wandering thoughts and watched the droplets form and reform against the tile. I basked in the rare Seattle sun, shadows of leaves dancing across my thighs. I spent a good long time soaping myself up, letting my hands slide over my body, celebrating each part. Even brushing my teeth became an erotic exercise. I felt fresh, clean, and sacred.

That’s the funny thing. Self care and good hygiene become so routine and boring, but really everything we do to take care of our bodies is sacred. Today I took a shower as an act of love – love for myself. I slowed down and remembered how to breathe. I was respectful of myself. I slowly built to release. I lingered in the lovely sensations. It’s a gift, this time I gave to myself, lovemaking for one.

Photo by David Steinberg 2011

I long to take him in. My mouth waters and my throat expands at the thought of his cock. I literally hunger for him. It’s as though I could consume his essence in bits and pieces – the memory of his hands as they craft metal or the image of him as a child, hiding in the tall grass like a drop of ambrosia on my tongue. I take his cock into my mouth to know him more deeply. I open wider to let him in. Oral sex is about acceptance.

I think about these things when fellating, full of love and desire for my partner. I also think of nothing, in a pure Zen way. Not only am I accepting him, I am also accepting the moment. I’m letting go of anxiety and fear, not only because I honor and respect my partner, but because I give myself the gift of pleasure. I like to eat, to taste, to savor – and this applies to my lover as well.

It’s much the same when he goes down on me. I pour myself into him. His tongue and fingers turn me liquid and I pour down his throat. I feel his tongue coaxing me to release, let go, flow. I let him eat me. I give him everything.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all flowery words and soft music. We are fucking. Our oral sex is hot and messy. We get involved in anal play, CBT, and fisting while our tongues and mouths are busy. We get covered in spit and sweat. We grunt and scream and sometimes cry. This is intense play.

I used to refuse to do 69 – you know, both of us doing oral sex at the same time. It was too overwhelming. I wanted to focus on one thing at a time, either trying to orgasm or trying to give an orgasm. Then I decided to forget about the orgasms and just let go. Now 69 is probably my most favorite part of sex. Being overwhelmed is the point. Flooding the pleasure centers is the point.

I take him into my mouth and I know him. His tongue swirls around my clit and darts into my cunt and I give myself to him. 69 is about trust and surrender. It’s the classic yin/yang – some of each is in the other, always in motion, ever in balance. I think the intensity of sharing like this sears like fire if you aren’t willing to open yourself to the flow of energy created, but that same fire can heat things up!

Photo by David Steinberg 2011

I rarely orgasm during 69, but I come very easily after spending some time engrossed in oral play. It feels amazingly fantastic. I find it freeing to be more focused on sensation and sharing and less focused on the outcome.

If you haven’t experienced 69, or it’s been a while, maybe it’s time to give it a try!

I’m floating in warm water, my limbs entwined in his. Above us are tree limbs and blue sky. Nearby the river cascades past with lots of spray and froth. The rushing noise it makes is a soothing soundtrack. His fingers glide across my bare flesh, covertly ending at my nipples. My desire ratchets up a notch. I look into his eyes, knowing that he sees my reaction to his touch. We’re hardly aware of the man next to us in the hot springs, but the intensity of our connection must make him uncomfortable because he gets out.

We let the hot springs relax us. We massage the knots out of each other’s shoulders. We talk and kiss, making love in a slow, unfocused manner. I want him in a way that reaches through my cunt, through my feet, deep into the rock of the cave we are in, as though we are making love for the earth itself. In full view of everyone at the hot springs, but not making a big deal of it, I knead his balls with my foot. I progress to rubbing his cock between my toes. Then I am leaning against him, caressing his dick with one hand while I bend over in front of him. He traces the lines of my vulva, feeling how slick I am there. I know that the caretaker is right behind us. The thought of him watching us turns me on even more. He politely moves past us.

I am getting off on how much we can do to each other with people all around. They can’t really tell what we are doing. We are quiet, but totally absorbed in each other. I suck at his lips and tongue, wanting his cock. He seems to understand because he suggests that I sit on the ledge so he can lick my pussy, but it feels too blatant. We talk some more and unwind some more. I’m thinking of going off into the woods to fuck. I want to be bent over and boned hard. I want his fingers to dig into my hips and my breasts to slap against my face. But it’s really cold. Finally all the other guests get ready to leave.

I am fantasizing about how we will have sex, when another woman shows up. She’s obviously in her own world, unconcerned with us. I think that we might go to the back of the cave to fuck, but he is too hot. We move down to a cooler pool. I am at that place beyond teasing that quickly becomes totally frustrated. I am near tears with wanting. It feels like I will never again have an orgasm. I float on my stomach next to him, while he rubs my clit. It feels amazing. I don’t come, but I am greatly reassured. I love him so much.

We move to a slightly warmer pool. I tell him to keep a look out and I put my head in his lap. I squeeze his balls and suck his cock. I so enjoy the sounds that he makes and the looks on his face that I manage to see. The warm water cradles us both as he stiffens in my mouth. His fingers reach around my ass to get to my slippery cunt. The danger of someone seeing us excites me. The strange woman is still in the cave.

We go down to the lower pool. He insists on pulling my pussy over to him so he can lick it. Seeing my thatch in his face looks beautiful and I wish I had my camera, but I’m not about to stop him. The other guest gets out for a moment then goes back up. We stop for that, but then I’m serious about fucking.

We come together in the water. Somehow I end up on top. The moment that he enters me is sheer bliss. I have been aching for this. I tighten all of my vaginal muscles to let him know I care. We move back and forth in the water, where movement is muted. The woman coughs loudly several times as though to tell us that she can see us, but I don’t care. It’s not obvious that we are having intercourse anyway. We are holding each other’s faces as we revel in the sensation and connection. I am in love, love, love.

And then the lubrication gives out. It still feels fantastic, but I can tell that it’s starting to chafe. It’s not worth going on. Fucking in the water is often problematic. We stop moving (mostly), but he stays inside me. It’s glorious. It feels like the center of everything.

Sadly, we need to go. I briefly consider the cabana, but we need to make our way back to civilization. Perhaps we can fuck in the car. Regardless, I am feeling relaxed and recharged. I look forward to the orgasms that are sure to come.