guest post by Texas Tornado
Once upon a time, two children and a traumatized bladder ago, a young girl found herself up the duff and planning a walk of shame down the aisle that led to Holy matrimony.
OK. The young girl was me. I don't do well with third person. It seems pretentious. And an ounce of pretentious is worth a pound of manure. (Ten points if you can tell me the movie that quote is from.)
by hot mama
Texas Tornado recently wrote about the beauty of the female form, and I'm not gonna argue with that. I have a wet spot for the ladies as well; in fact, as I've said before, not every having been with a woman is one of the few sexual acts I regretfully didn't experience before I tied the knot.
guest post by mama blue
"Can I see the rest of your house now?" It was his third attempt that night, and reasonable considering we'd just spent two hours being intimate without leaving the living room, and the fact that we'd been dating for three months. He didn't look at his watch or say he had to leave, even after proclaiming me a good lay. Hell, women dream about a man like this and I knew it. But all of a sudden he wanted to see more of me than I'd already revealed in the fire-lit room. He wanted me to shake off the covers completely. I had no problem with him finding his way around me, but I didn't want to show him my bedroom, or heaven forbid my bathroom. After all, that was private. As I easily diverted Joe's attention toward another rousing round of foreplay, I wondered why it was easier to give this man a blow job than a tour of my house.
by Racy Red
There's nothing like a little dirty talk to get the juices flowing. It's well documented that a well placed "Fuck me harder!" can hurry things a long or make the outcome a little more explosive.
But if you are a prude (like me...I know! Hard to believe!) dirty talk can be more than a tad embarrassing. I mean, I'm not really comfortable shouting out "Spank me harder, you naughty boy!" How does one go about talking dirty with out killing yourself laughing or dying of mortification.
guestpost by The Crossbowman
I can usually be found wearing a kilt.
No, not at work, because my job requires the wearing of a uniform... but when I'm not working, I can usually be found sporting an American (or Canadian) made kilt.
guest post by scarb
Being that I'm an openly whoremonal nymphomaniac in pregnancy, I am often asked how I can even manage to have sex comfortably when I am so huge. (Currently nearing the 40 week mark.) Well, I'm here to tell you my secrets.
by hot mama
There are few things more pleasurable than a good orgasm, are there. Chocolate? Not even close. A massage? Nope. An ice-cold gin and tonic on a hot summer day? Well...no, not quite. Orgasms even trump a nice gin-induced haze.
guest post by Miss
Did you know that it sucks having to move back home? Going through a divorce stinks, but so does going back to live with your parents. Now imagine trying to have sex back at home. We all sneaked around when we were teenagers to get some behind our parents' backs. As an adult it just gets trickier. Sure, waiting until they leave the house is always the easiest thing to do. But when you have a child? A child who doesn't go with grandma and grandpa? You need to get creative!
guest post by denguy
I fall into Racy Red's category "moms are a tired, overworked, frazzled lot" with one major difference: I am not a mom, but I play one in real life. I am a stay-at-home dad.
by Racy Red
I love sex. Sure, there are parts about sex that don't thrill me; the lockjaw of a good hummer given, the damned wet spot which always seems to be on my side of the bed and the fact that since the kids have grown up a bit more I can't be as um, vocal as I'd like.
Nothing kills the mood when the kiddies wander in mid-thrust and ask why it sounds as if daddy is killing mommy.
