Anxious

Around last Tuesday my sex drive dropped. No big deal, it happens sometimes. It sucks to be a sex writer with a dead sex drive but I didn't worry about it. I knew I was one good episode of 'Dr. Who' away from getting it back.

Thanksgiving came and I had a pretty lazy day. I played insane amounts of City of Heroes and spent sometime playing the wonderful Bioshock.

Friday came and that night I went to a party hosted by Valerie. We played dirty word scrabble with a group of mostly lesbians. There is nothing like watching a lesbian play the word, 'Pud', and then explain it. I won the second game with BJ on a double word score and I'm still pretty happy about that.

Saturday I woke up with a tight chest and the sense that I was going to screw up big time. I felt incompetent, stupid, childish and lame. I was scared of everything. I was scared of hanging out with friends, I was scared of messing up my wife's birthday, I was scared of alienating people, I was scared of writing a shitty blog, I was scared of doing anything.

Monday wasn't much better. Tuesday was pretty bad but I think I held my shit together enough for my wife's birthday. Luckily she had an awful day at work and weirdly that took the pressure off me. I knew nothing I did would be as bad as what was happening at her job.

I was/am convinced that her birthday was a big trigger for this current anxiety attack. We just had an anniversary where we did everything under the sun and now I feel like I have to find one or two more wonderful things to do for her birthday and I am just flat out of inspiration. She's been looking at me all week to pull one more romantic miracle out of my ass and you know, she deserves one more romantic miracle but fuck if I had any idea what to do.

So, because work was such a bitch, she wants to move her birthday celebration to the weekend. That's fair. It also means that I have five more days to do something that will keep this from being a sucky birthday.

I so need to get my shit together.

My Wife's Birthday

Today my wife turns 34. Years of putting up with me has grayed her hair a little but other than that she's pretty much the same gal I fell hard for. Well, she's a bit more sarcastic but again, I think I have myself to thank for that.

I'm my wife's biggest fan. She somehow combines a great compassion for all living things with a ruthlessness that is a daily inspiration. She's the smartest person I know in all the most important things like computers, comic books, Everquest and why Harry Potter is over-rated. I can't imagine spending my days with anyone else.

The fact that she is a busty blonde with a great ass is just bonus.

That Fine Line

There are women that I love. They are smart, funny, and exciting. They make me feel like a great Priapic god when they show attention and affection for me. I adore and treasure them and want to be in their celestial orbits. I want to make sweet love to them in the dying of the night.

There are other women. The ones I want to fuck, ride, bend, bind, spank, pinch, overwhelm, and dominate. These women I want to play like instruments; discovering their unique song within and making them sing like they have never sung before. I write their story with paddles, commands and sheer will. I write a story that only works for them using themselves as inspiration and source.

One kind of woman is the kind I can grow old with.

One kind of woman is raw material to be processed, used and consumed.

I want both but it is hard for me to treat a single woman as both. A relationship that starts as the first rarely survives being transformed in the second. A relationship that starts as the second ceases to be exciting for the sub when it transforms into the first. Every book I read and every dom I talk to suggest starting with the first type and moving into the second and I agree in theory. It's the reality that's tricky.

I pull my punches as a dom when I love my sub. I have trouble having my sub hate me when I used to flourish under their love. I can't go for the kill when I lack the heart to be her villain.

A dom has to know that his sub will still love him after he has done wicked things to her. Again, I know this in theory but my anxiety screams that this brilliant wicked thing I have thought of will shut that affection forever. I know it's a lie, that my own affection for my sub will prevent me from doing anything that would hurt her, but my anxiety says that I make mistakes. My anxiety says that one day she'll figure out that I am not as strong as I pretend to be.

I think this is why I enjoy writing BDSM so much. I can hurt fictional characters and I will. I can be honest with a character about my desires and the sub's desires, with no fear of being judged. I can use a character. I enjoy using a character. They are there to be used and since the never loved me and never can, my anxiety never sabotages what they need.

There is a fine line between those that I love and those that I dominate. The truth is that I love them all, I just have troubles loving them well.

Wednesday Erotica Ramblings

What makes good porn is the act of interesting people having interesting sex. You can have one without the other, but the thing you do have has to be SO interesting that it outweighs the lack of the other. The reason I stop reading most 'real sex' blogs is that they tell me nothing about the people involved so they are reduced down to stereotypes. There's the boyfriend, the cheating wife, college kid, or some other bland characterization that creates a weird sense of deja vu in myself in that I think I am seeing these characters again. Even in a blog about real people, the lack of depth to the people they write about makes me think that I am reading about the same sorta-kinky college boyfriend who's also fucking girls in six other blogs. I start speculating about this mystery Romeo who has all these girls smitten over him, before I have to remind myself that it's not the same guy, it's the same lack of interest in fleshing him out. In a way I think the sex bloggers are less interested in the guy and telling us why they adore him as much as they just want to assure us that they too have sex.

The sex blogger quest for anonymity has created a large cast of faceless men and women who seem to have an awful lot in common. Some days I am fascinated by these shared qualities and what it says about us as sexual beings but most other days I just consider it bad writing. Sex bloggers who tell us about their real sex lives need to tell us about why they adore the people they are fucking so that we can adore them too.

Along a similar vein, one of the things I hate when I am reading a 'real' sex blog is when they use commercial copyrighted images on their blogs to throw in some nude porn. Maybe I am too knowledgeable about porn but few things take me out of immersion faster than when I am reading about a kinky event that allegedly happened last weekend, and I have a picture of Erica Campbell staring at me. Don't get me wrong, I love Erica, but somehow I don't think she is a close personal friend of the blogger. Images from professional porn inject the same sense of professional porn artificialness to a so called real life sex blog. I feel less like I am reading someone's personal account and more like I am reading porn filler for a magazine. Use your own images, or if you use other people's property, talk about why you like them so much. Make them the conversation.

The blogs that do hold my attention do so because they create the illusion of sharing. They make me feel like I am reading about a real sexual being. They have flaws and strengths. They fall for certain types because of experiences they have shared with their readers. We the readers feel informed enough to give advice because we feel like we know the blogger better than the blogger knows themselves. That's not an easy feat and I appreciate every writer who has that talent.

Monday Erotica Ramblings

One thing I love about erotica is that each individual story rarely has an impact on literature as a whole, but one special story can change a single person forever.

On the Internet with millions of erotica choices, people rarely read the same story. They are seeking their own fetish, their own favored voice and their own preferred deviance. When I talk to me friends about a story I liked, almost never does one of them say "I read that too". I have to show it to them. Even if something gets posted on Fleshbot or Sugasm, it doesn't guarantee that everyone reads it. Erotica readers hardly ever have a shared reading experience unless they initiate it between each other.

This used to depress me. If people are not having a shared reading experience, then the genre can never grow. Someone out there has written the perfect Coming of Slave story, and eliminated the need for anyone else to write another. Someone out there has created the most beautiful spanking scene possible and other writers will never be inspired by it. Without a shared foundation, our stories ca not build and grow from each other. I used to think this was a bad thing.

Now I realized it was just ego. I wanted people to get the credit they deserved but if people did learn from each other's porn, then I think porn would move as a generic whole. I walk into a book store these days to read fantasy or science fiction and all I can find are Vampire romances. Young reader books are all about magic schools and destined ones. They are building off of one another and trying to steal a little of each other's success but what we get is one or two stories being retold and improved upon.

Which is why I think I prefer porn the way it is. As much as I get tired sometimes of reading yet another twenty-something girl's sexual experiences that acts like she invented the blowjob, I am touched by the honest way they feel like they are exploring new ground. Instead of stealing from previous more successful erotica, people tell their own stories in which they discover the joys of sex for themselves in an almost vacuum.

This is not to say that there are erotic blog imitators out there. Quite a few blogs read like resumes where the blogger is trying to convince the reader that they are hip, sexy, knowledgeable writers who deserve their own magazine column pretty please, but I really feel these people are in the minority. People who create blogs in the search for money and manufactured fame are easily recognized as the faux sex-obsessed people they are. When you have more ads on your blog than personal content, the reader knows better. I am going to be really bitchy here and say the only people that read a wannabe commercial success sex blog are other wannabe commercial sex bloggers.

Which brings me back to the amateur sex blogger/writer who's greatest ambition is to share. We want to express these weird wonderful sexy thoughts that we don't see reflected back in mainstream society. We want to discuss what turns us on, what we do in our bedrooms and we want you to know about it. The urge to express is so great that maybe we don't do enough reading and listening to other sex-obsessed writers. So we never have a common reading ground and erotic never becomes literature in the sense of a shared experience. We tell our stories that might have been told better in the past but because we don't know that, we have the courage to write and maybe make something better.

The best part is that just because we don't reach everybody with our blogs and stories, it doesn't mean we didn't reach someone. Our honest, un-influenced, un-intimidated stories will touch someone or maybe two someones and become part of their sexual desires. Because we are not commercially struggling to reach a mainstream audience that aims for the lowest common denominator, we create a very specific powerful tailored piece of work that strikes right at the heart and libido of someone who will masturbate, fantasize and daydream about that story forever.

I'm pretty happy with that.

Divide and Write

There are days when you would happily give up sex for a year in exchange for one good story idea.

And then there are days like this week where you are swarmed with ideas. There are so many possible stories and each one comes to mind faster than the previous one till you start thinking you might need to skip a meal to work in all of the writing and while you are at it, maybe skipping work, friends and sleep would be good too.

The biggest problem in times like these is that you are having so many ideas that you're not actually writing any of them. The euphoric rush of creativity sometimes fucks your focus to the point that you're not giving any one idea the time it needs to bloom into a story. You're filling notebooks with ideas but readers don't want ideas. They want stories and stories take time and focus.

Which is why I feel the best attribute a writer can develop is the ability to procrastinate when it comes to ideas. That brilliant thought you just had will still be as brilliant next month when you're finished with what you are doing. Put it off. Write it down on it's own separate page of notes and turn the page. Divide out your ideas into little cells in your notebook prison. Lock them away and keep them in isolation. Quit thinking about your ingenious BDSM story involving peppermint so that your current brilliant idea, the story about sadistic kinky real estate agents can get the attention it needs to get finished.

Divide and write.

Things I Like To Do During a Spanking That Does Not Involve Spanking

1. Pulling her pants down. This is something I really like to do myself. The act of unbuttoning is the BDSM equivalent of unwrapping a gift. Which I guess it is.

2. Grabbing the hair. You know, when you grab someone's hair, you have their attention. If you are wailing on their ass while doing it, then you have split their attention in two places. Besides, good hair was meant to be pulled.

3. When the ass is bright red and hot to the touch, I like to lean down and bite. I like the feel of hot skin between my teeth while the person I am biting either squeals, moans or shivers. I like to bite right where their cunt is inches from my nose. If I am doing a good job of spanking, I can smell just how good I'm doing. When the skin I am biting is no longer blistering hot, I know it's time to go back to the spanking.

Feel free to add to the list.

Review: The Classic Pin Up Art of Jack Cole

Jack Cole is one of my favorite artists. In his all too short career, Jack made some of the best pin up art a man could do. Everything he does, whether it is naked girls, sight gags or his comic book character, Plastic Man, all has this basic level of impressionism. His women are not recreations of what women look like, they are interpretations of how women are seen, remembered and treasured.

Fantagraphics Books has a 2004 collection of Jack's work that I just now recently discovered. 'The Classic Pin Up Art of Jack Cole' is a long mouthful of a title for a very precious book. It collects his art in that middle period between leaving comic books and working for Playboy. Here are a bunch of illustrations written for the gag magazines in the Humorama line. The jokes are dated and often archaic nut the art is timeless.



Jack is at his best when he is just cutting loose. Breasts and hips become flowing lines with the same gravity as moons. Eyes disappear and are replaced by ominous eye lashes. Legs are bare in winter and lips are big and pouty. There's energy in every picture even when nothing is moving.

I would recommend this book to any lover of in-up art. For that matter, I would recommend a lot of what Fantagraphics Books publishes. Their books are often the fuel I use to jump start my imagination. Most of all though, I recommend that you explore the work of Jack Cole for yourself. He was one of the best and still is.


Click the pictures for mondo giant size versions.

Dr. Otto Von Madd Says:

Burlesque dancing is a creative form of exercise that improves hip-eye coordination, contract reading skills and socializing with the opposite sex. Burlesque dancers are 80% less likely to have heart disease than joggers and other people who do boring exercises. Enroll your girlfriend, boyfriend or spouse in a burlesque dancing class today!

Fiction: S-Bay

"S-Bay Alert! One of your flagged dealers is offering a new prize for bidding!"

Tina squealed with excitement. She put away her cell phone and rushed to her computer. Her fingers shook as she logged on to the website, with her user name, xBottomSlutx, and clicked on the auctions.

"Please let it be Mr. Paddle," she said. Her pussy tingled as soon as she said his name. It had been a month since he last offered his prize and last time that bitch SweetKitty23 had outbid her.

---Mr. Paddle offers to strip, bind and spank the winner of this auction on November 17, 2007 at 1pm at auction winner's preferred location.-----

To read more, click Whole Post


"Yes!" Tina squealed. She looked at the time remaining. S-Bay auctions can last any set time but Mr. Paddle was notoriously fickle. This time he only listed his auction for an hour. Tina bit her lip happily. It was a Monday morning, and not many other bidders would be on. Either Mr. Paddle was feeling generous to whomever was lucky to be on, or else he wanted to see a cat fight break out among those who were on.

Tina thought of Mr. Paddle's grin when he picked up his favorite wicked studded paddle. More likely, he was hoping for a catfight.

Tina thought about her bid. She thought about how ruthless he was. She thought about how devastating he can be with his vast array of toys. She thought about her poor bottom, which hadn't been spanked in over three weeks.

Tina started the bidding with 30 spanks.

Three minutes later, SweetKitty23 entered a bid of 35 spanks.

"Oh that greedy bitch," Tina said. She countered with 40 spanks.

A minute passed by. Tina smirked. 40 hits from Mr. Paddle was nothing to sneer at. There would be bruises. There would be marks. She might not be able to sit for the rest of the weekend but damn it, she deserved it.

A minute later, Schoolgirl4u entered a bid of 50 spanks.

"What the fuck?" Tina whispered. 50? Tina tried to remember if she had seen Schoolgirl4u on any other auctions. She clicked on her name and listed her previous auctions. A short list appeared, all within the last two weeks. Most of it was rope bondage auctions with one forced masturbation scene. There were none for spanking.

"The crazy bitch has no idea what she's in for," Tina said. She had seen it before. New girls make all sorts of offers till they make one promise too many. They drop out for a month or two, coming back a bit more conservative with their bids and a lot more determined to get what they want.

Tina closed her eyes and thought of the time she bid too much. She offered her ass, literally, to an older man with ten inches of cock. He was looking for sex and Tina was looking for something to make her forget about the job promotion she didn't get. Other girls offered oral, spankings and dinner, but Tina offered her ass. When the time came, he made her forget all about that promotion. Well, and about walking normal for a week.

She opened her eyes and saw that SweetKitty23 had made a counter-bid of 75 spanks.

"Motherfuck!" Tina said. 75 was insane. 75 was brutal. Mr. Paddle wouldn't go soft halfway through either like some dealers would. He would inflict every punishing swing and it would be your own damn fault if you couldn't handle it.

"Seventy-fucking-five," Tina said.

She reached between her legs. Her pussy was so warm and wet as she slipped her fingers over her clit. She thought of SweetKitty23 being tied down to a bench and getting the beating of her life. Tina stroked herself as she imagined that greedy slut's ass turning red, then purple then blue.

"Seventy-five," Tina said. She stroked faster. How many did SweetKitty23 bid last time? 43 was it? 43 was where Tina had drawn the line and she went without a spanking. She had to settle for masturbating like she was right now while SweetKitty23 got spanked by that wonderful sadist, Mr. Paddle. That slut was going to win again but at least she was going to pay for it.

Tina kept stroking, trying to climax off of the idea of SweetKitty23's discomfort. It wasn't working. The act of giving up had taken the thrill out of it all.

With sticky fingers, Tina made an offer of 90 spanks.

She went back to masturbating. Her pussy was so wet. 90 was unheard of. It was too much. She would need to take Monday off from work. It was crazy and yet Tina's pussy never felt so sensitive and alive.

Tina waited for a counter-bid from SweetKitty23 or Schoolgirl4u. Her fingers were a blur between her thighs. She was masturbating as fast as her heart was pounding. Would any of those bitches top that? How badly did they want it? How badly did they need to be spanked?

How badly did they need to win?

Minutes passed by with no counter offer. That didn't mean anything. They could be busy. They could be waiting till the time nearly ran out. There was strategy in bidding. Heck, they might be waiting for her to pull back her offer. There was a penalty for doing so, but it might be safer than 90 spanks.

Tina kept masturbating. The wet sound of her pussy and fingers replaced the ticking of the clock. She came close to coming but she held off. She had to know before she climaxed. Would she climax as an unfortunate winner of a terrible spanking, or would she climax as the lucky loser of a terrible auction?

The auction ended. There were no higher bids. xBottomSlutx was the winner.

Tina screamed as she climaxed.

I Know Nothing

One of the nice things about my week off was that I could spend even more time reading the scriptwriting blogs during the writer's strike. I started reading these blogs about a month ago as I loved the stories of trying to write something that was not crap when the network you work for is demanding crap. Reading those blogs made me so happy to be an obscure porn writer.

Anyhoo, I have picked up so much information on this writer's strike that my head will explode. The interesting thing is how all my friends/family/hated enemies who get all their information from E! and People magazine are far more informed than I am. The subject will come up and I will mention something like, how the writers of SpongeBob got screwed, and the people I am talking to inform me that the writers of SpongeBob eat caviar in their million dollar mansions and if they didn't get a better deal, it's because they are communists who don't understand how capitalism works, GO AMERICA!

Holy shit. It kills me how excited my friends get in telling me how evil the writer's guild is for endangering their weekly fix of network television. Three dollar a gallon gas doesn't excite them but don't fuck with their 'Lost'. I am starting to realize that if you really wanted to terrorize America, you'd have to hit their entertainment. People who bore me to tears describing how Cheney needs to be impeached, will break the kneecaps of a television writer if they endanger their Desperate Housewives.

If you want to know as little as I do about script writing, please check out these fine links.

Seriocity has been talking about the strike and described the painful process of pitching shows in a pre-strike environment.

Kung Fu Monkey is just plain funny most days with the regular flash of brilliance that makes you jealous.

If you love television, movies, comics or humor, then you should already be reading Mark Evanier's blog. He's been a great resource in which he answers the questions of readers who think all television writers get paid in gold coins.

Finally, United Hollywood is a great place to get all your short and sweet information.

Finally, err, final finally, for a brief just under four minute explanation about the writer's demands, watch this video.

Fiction: Control Group

"God, I hate my job," Erica said.

Laura Arsan nodded and kept working on her computer. Bitching about the job was the number one pastime at the Von Madd Laboratories. Laura was busy trying to create a personal lubricant meant to be used in space. It was tricky to make something that aided in reducing friction yet didn't break apart in zero gravity. Erica's daily complaining was a distraction the chemist didn't need.

"I mean, it pays well," Erica added. "Shit, in just the six months I've worked here, I've made enough to buy a house. I have four patents to my name and I get to design crazy sex toys for the rich and depraved."

Laura nodded again. She pushed her brown hair out of her eyes and focused on the screen. She ran a few chemical simulations on her computer to see if maybe it was worth exploring vegetable oil as a lubricant. Laura did take a moment to smile at the thought that she personally had 8 patents and had only worked here half as long as Erica.

"But seriously," Erica said. "Who would have thought that working at a sexual scientist lab would have such strict rules against fucking? I mean, what the hell?"

To read more, click Whole Post


That question made Laura stop. The twenty-seven year old woman couldn't quite figure that out herself. The number one rule that Dr. Otto Von Madd explained to each and every scientists there was simple- no orgasms. You weren't allowed to fuck or even masturbate.

"Dr. Von Madd explained it," Laura began. "He said that giving in to our base urges in a sexual environment would ruin laboratory discipline. Our contract states very clearly that for the safety of all involved, we must resist the urge to even playfully flirt with one another."

"But no masturbating?" Erica said. The redhead sighed. "When I showered today, I was this close to climaxing when the water hit my cunt. That can't be right."

Laura blushed. She could almost feel the hot spray of the water herself. "I do think it is a bit extreme."

"Yeah, especially since we have cameras in every shower, bathroom stall and bedroom," Erica said.

"Those do seem a bit excessive," Laura said. "But we did sign a contract promising to forsake all physical pleasures in the interest of science."

Erica rolled her eyes. "I don't know how you get anything done. I've been working on this all-purpose lubricant for desert conditions for a week now and I just can't focus. Every time I start looking at melting points, I start thinking about being dressed in a bell dancer's outfit while some sheik bends me over his knee and then-"

"Enough!" Laura snapped. She took a deep breathe. "Dirty talking is forbidden as well. Keep talking like that and we'll have a lot of explaining to do when we turn in our panties for inspection this evening."

The loudspeaker cut in. "Dr. Arsan, please report to Dr. Von Madd's office."

Erica's eyes grew wide. "Oh shit," she said. "Did they catch you doing something? Have you been masturbating?"

Laura sighed. "Trust me Erica, if I had been masturbating, I wouldn't have gained these ten pounds from the snack machines."

Dr. Von Madd looked bored when Laura came into his office. He was looking at a bank of video screens. On every screen was a different part of the underground laboratory. Laura recognized many of the areas, like the condom testing range and the dildo mold room. She sat down in the chair opposite the Dr. and waited patiently as he scanned the lab.

"Dr. Arsan," Dr. Von Madd said. "When was the last time you had an orgasm?"

"Excuse me, sir?" Laura said.

"Last time you had orgasmic release, doctor," he said. "It's not a hard question."

"ah, maybe the night before I moved into my bunk quarters," she said.

"Amazing," he said. "Out of all the employees in Sector Frigid, you are the only one who doesn't sneak an orgasm. That is quite a level of self control."

Laura was confused. "I'm sorry, did you say I was the only one? I thought if you had an orgasm you were fired."

Dr. Otto Von Madd smiled. "Well, if we catch you doing it too flagrantly. It ruins the whole reason for setting up Sector Frigid. I mean, you can't have people fucking in the hallways if you are trying to create a sexually frustrating enviroment."

"You mean, I could have masturbated if I did it discretely?" Laura asked. A wave of horny despair washed over her. All those sleepless nights she jammed her hands under her pillow!

"Certainly," Dr. Von Madd said. "What is even more amazing is your productivity is so high. You are one of our best scientists and I full faith you will crack that zero gravity lubricant problem in less than a week."

Laura didn't know what to think. One question did come to mind. "Why?" she asked.

Dr. Von Madd pressed a few buttons and all the video screens changed. New areas appeared on the monitors. Laura recognized the Von Madd Laboratory decor, but not any of the locations. There were entire sections of the lab she had never seen before and more importantly, people were fucking on every screen! An orgy was going on in the commissary, the chemistry department was hosting a sampling of edible underwear and a blowjob was occurring in the hallway outside the radiation department. It was like there was an entire other lab where people fucked.

"We needed a control group," Dr. Von Madd said. "I knew that allowing sex among my scientists would unlock the sexual creativty we needed, but like any true scientist, I like to prove it. So I started Sector Frigid and imposed some strict rules. Oh, people still fuck, but the high sexual tension is exactly like a lesser mainstream lab. Every time we have an accident in the real lab where someone was careless because they were still giddy from a threesome, I check on the progress of Sector Frigid and look at the dismal project completion rates. If it makes you feel better, the sexual unhappiness of you and your coworkers help justify the amazing progress our main lab makes."

Laura felt a surge of heat blossom between her thighs. Months of sexual frustration slammed into her. She looked at all the sex on the video screens and drank it in like a starving woman.

"Why are you telling me all this?" she asked.

"because it just seemed cruel," Dr. Von Madd said. "You are our best scientist in Sector Frigid. Imagine how much better you will be when we transfer you to the real lab."

"I could have sex?" she asked. Her hands moved to her thighs.

"Anytime," Dr. Von Madd said.

"I could masturbate as much as I want?" Laura asked. She unzipped her regulation lab slacks and pulled them down. It wasn't easy to do while still sitting but Laura managed it easily.

"We have a morning workout just for that purpose," Dr. Von Madd said.

"I would never have to listen to Erica bitch ever again?" Laura asked. She buried three of her fingers into her cunt and cried out.

"Not unless you want to spy on her going about her miserable, sex once a week in the beaker closet where she thinks we don't have a camera."

Laura climaxed as she thought about that. "Oh, I do want to see that."

Dr. Von Madd smiled. "I made you an hour long tape as a welcome aboard gift."

"Thank you," Laura said. She was masturbating furiously. "Would you mind fucking me too?"

Dr. Von Madd rose from his chair. He unzipped his pants as he walked over to her. "Dr. Arsan, welcome to the side of the lab that gets things done."

Just So You Know

My wife and I are taking this entire week off work. This should mean that I will have lots of wonderful time to blog but so far I have succeeded in only playing lots of City of Heroes, eating out and watching a lot of Torchwood.

If it makes you feel better, My City of Heroes Robot/Traps Pirate Queen Mastermind is now level 45. I have eaten a lot of peppermint chocolate that was delicious, and let me tell you, that Torchwood show rocks.

In other news, my old blogging friend, Vixxxen, has started a new blog at Risque Writing. Give her a holler.

Sex Store Packs

Seven girls came into the adult store. I had seen them in the parking lot. They waited outside for something, either waiting on more to arrive or just working up their courage to enter the big bad store.

Twenty minutes after we had gone in, The girls finally came in. They were giggling and far too loud. One by one, they saw me and my wife browsing the restraints aisle and one by one their giggling gave way to confused frowns. Couples came in here? Couples would shop a store that only sold stuff for sex? What kind of a relationship is that where both of them want sex?

They kept looking at my wife. Whispering to one another, they took turns examining her. We had just come from a fancy dinner so she was looking rather upscale with her expensive shirt and very professional slacks. I think it was the glasses that threw them. My wife looked smart, sophisticated and very very happy to have found the sparkly vibrators. These giggling girls who couldn't have been more than college freshmen if they were that old, just couldn't imagine growing up to become a successful woman who came to a sex store with her husband.

Their giggling at a stop, the girls wondered around with better squad discipline than most military units. Everyone was in arms reach of one another. Everyone talked inward. Eye contact with other people was strictly avoided but it was okay to take turns looking at my wife. They picked up items, quietly passed it around and then returned it to its place with little discussion. They were scared shitless.

I felt really sorry for them. They had misconceptions, shames and fears that required them to work up their courage to go into a sex store and then only in a group of seven. Damn, that's no way to live much less masturbate. I wanted to go up to them and tell them that it was okay to buy a vibrator but I am pretty sure all seven would have maced me if I got that close to them.

As we were leaving, I noticed a group of guys hanging outside the store. They were sitting around the same car that the girls were earlier. The boys were laughing and staring at the sex store. Maybe they were the boyfriends, waiting for their girls to return. Or maybe they were screwing up their courage too. Knowing kids though, I am betting that the girls made the boys wait outside for fear that so much porn would turn them into maniacs. Shit, looking at the nervous bunch of kids, the girls might have been right.

At least my wife and I had a good long fuck after that. Nothing like messed up youth to remind you how lucky we really are in our adulthood.

Post-Halloween Hangover

What a wild and crazy ride that was. I had a friend buy a new car yesterday and then spend the rest of the day freaking out because it was her first brand new car ever. Atlanta traffic was more horrible than 'Hostel 2'. My wife had a near nervous breakdown because of work and spent the night being upset. Wohoo! The fun never ends around here.

Tonight I am running away from home with said wife on our 11th wedding anniversary. I *might* be back Monday. It depends on how many hot hitchhikers we pick up along the way. 11th Anniversary is celebrated with threesomes, right?

So instead of actual content, I will direct you to other places so you don't get too bored. Yes, I am delegating entertainment to other blogs but it's cool cause it's the holidays.

Kevin is a very funny guy on most days but this is by far my current favorite right now. Click and read Samuel L. Jackson's Young Reader Line.

Once you're giggling, then head over to Will Pfiefer's X-Ray Spex and read his very comprehensive Horror Movie Marathon. Find some good movies to watch instead of 'Saw', okay? You deserve it.

Do you like H.P. Lovecraft? Do you want to see the very best in current Lovecraft writing? Then you have to read Footnotes to a Species Once Called Humanity. His 'Trois Freres' series is making me get off my ass and do some serious writing.

If all this fictional horror is starting to bore you, then go over to Atlanta Water Shortage and watch an ecological disaster happen in real time. Wohoo!

Now that you are shell shocked, confused and maybe whimpering, your mind is finally ready for the glory that is Cobra Starship.