Monday Music Madness

90s Flashback



You know, I know Celine Dion brings out the eye rolls in a lot of people, but I've always liked her.





What are some of your favorite videos from the 90s?

Images of Sexiness

I was reading an article earlier about a now 18 year old absolutely gorgeous model who was told a few years ago that she was too obese to model. Gerren Taylor was then 6' tall and a size 4. That number may not mean much to male readers but surely female readers are sputtering to themselves and saying, "what??? that's crazy!"

It is crazy. We've become a society that is obsessed with perfection. Those who can't measure up to magazine and Hollywood standards often feel unattractive even though that opinion could not be farther from the truth. In his new documentary, "America the Beautiful", Darryl Roberts follows Gerren's career and the country's obession with physical beauty. As part of his research for the film, Roberts interviewed 150 women, asking each if they considered themselves attractive. Two responded "yes". TWO. Isn't that a sad commentary on our society and it's distorted point of view?

As I was thinking about all this, my mind wandered to the types of pictures I post on my blog. Usually they're the perfect people. Perfect butts to be sure :) Since I have a largely male readership I wondered, do you see photos here and simply appreciate the beauty or do they leave you feeling unattractive? Do you compare your wife/girlfriend to these photos and find them lacking? I certainly don't want to perpetuate distorted thinking.

I see images like this and I appreciate the beauty. And.. I admit, I realize that I don't look like these women :) I'm 46 and decidedly not even a size 4. However, I tend not to compare myself to models and starlets. I try not to compare myself at all, but if I do, I tend to observe the real people around me - the ones who actually eat and who aren't all silicone, botox, and caps. When I do that, I realize I'm average - something with which I am definitely ok. As for my fella - well he doesn't look like the fella in the photo above, but I think he's gorgeous.

I do remember feeling somewhat inadequate with regard to my physical appearance when I was in my twenties and even early thirties. When I reached my 40s, I hit my stride. I'm not vain by a long shot, but I like myself well enough. I wonder, does this sort of comfort and acceptance come with maturity? As we mature are we less susceptible to media influences or just more aware of their power?

Mostly a mish-mash of thoughts, I know. Apologies if you are lost and still looking for the point :)

The Gift of Words

To my special poet friend - I very much miss your gift of words. I think of you often and hope you are well.

Untitled Short Story by an Anonymous Author*

I woke up, regained awareness... whatever you want to call it... in my hotel room. Aware that I was on my knees, nude, arms at my side, back straight and head bowed forward. If I think about it now, there were flashes of memory, walking through the hotel lobby, the elevator, giving Her the key.



Her.



Oh, God, it was happening.



When she'd finally agreed to meet me, a little fantasy, a "what if" scenario that was never going to happen, began building in my mind. Hey, I'm a guy... we have fantasies. I made it through the month leading up to our dinner (in a public place, of course) without telling her about it... I didn't want to scare her, make her think my intentions were anything other than what I said: "I want to meet you... you seem like such a good person, you've given others so much, probably without realizing it, and I wanted the experience of meeting you." And they weren't... I really just wanted to meet this oh-so-talented and sweet lady. Allowing myself a little fantasy on the side doesn't hurt anythi...



...oh, God, I told her about it. As she was dropping me off at the hotel, I'd leaned over for a "it's-been-great-to-finally-meet-you-you're-a-sweetie- good-night" peck on the cheek... and she whispered, "it was nice to meet you, too... now... I need you to sleep for Lady Julia."



I remember hearing it and thinking... "yea, thanks for humoring me..." and smiling at her. At some point my head was on her lap, looking up at her... TELLING HER ABOUT THE FANTASY!!! Shit. Shit... shit... shit!



I know now that as I kneeled there that night, naked in the bedroom, the only reason I remembered what happened was because she wanted me to... to know that she knew, and that I was now experiencing the fantasy. At the time, I was just "there"... aware, knowing my secret was out.



Waiting.



Like I'd been told to.



I didn't lift my head and look around the room, the obvious "normal" reaction... I was told not to, only to listen. But to who? For what? My head was suddenly back in a fog... like it had lifted only long enough for me to put together enough thoughts to figure out She knew about the guilty pleasure I'd allowed myself for the last month month... listening to Her voice on my mp3 player, then letting the fantasy play itself out in my mind, always culminating in incredibly intense, deep breathed, writhing-on-the-bed orgas...



Shit, I'd told Her about those, too.



There was no sound in the fog. I was motionless. Because I was supposed to be. And it was alright... somehow through the fog, the inability to put together more than flashes of thought, I knew everything would be alright... I was told at some point that I was "comfortable." So I was.



"Hmmm... you are sooo very pleasing."



Her. Any muscle in my body that wasn't already rigid snapped into place, creating a man, on his knees, alive like never before, skin tingling, mind locking onto Her voice. The only thing that mattered right now.



"So... I wonder what happens when a fantasy becomes reality?", she said softly. I knew she was above me, seated on the bed. I didn't open my eyes. I didn't look up. I hadn't been told to.



"Judging by the looks of things, reality is just as arousing as your little dreams about me." She giggled. I'd heard it a hundred times before, but now She was in the same room. God, it was so erotic... just a giggle.



The coolness of a drop of pre-cum rolling down my cock brought my attention to the object of her comments. I was rock hard. Throbbing. Aching. I hadn't even realized it, I was so focused on Her voice.



More than hearing Her voice. Obeying Her voice.



"Very aroused and, I'll bet, veeeery obedient.. my my... you're such a good boy."



A deep moan, as my body flexed internally, but externally stayed firm and motionless.



"Mmmmm... that's right. I do so like it when you show me your obedience... and you ARE feeling very obedient, aren't you?"



Yes, ma'am." I don't know if I said it, or just thought it. It didn't matter.



To an observer, nothing was happening in the room. Yet everything was happening so fast. The fog was suddenly clearing again, my senses collapsing into a singular desire. My mind didn't see, hear, smell, think... there was neither time nor need for the formalities of the senses... it simply became a vacumn, needing to be filled. Now, please now... Desire, lust, passion... these words don't come close to describing how I needed Her voice. It was all that mattered. Just for this time.



Just for this time... oh God, please... while there is time... I need Her voice.



To hear Her was to obey. And the more obedient you become, the more pleasure you feel... and the more pleasure you feel, the deeper you go. And the deeper you go, the more obedient you become.



I didn't think these thoughts. They were just there. They were my mind, my being. And apparently, my body as well.



I needed to hear Her. God, my entire body ached now.



"I want you to stand up, get on the bed, and lie on your back." I remember now there wasn't the anticipation one might expect, being told to crawl onto the bed with one's Mistress. It was a simple command, and I simply obeyed. I did not anticipate.



I am obedient. I obey. So simple. So perfect.



"Yes, ma'am." I did as I was told. My eyes were closed. I had not been told to open them. I laid down on my back, flat on the bed, there were no pillows, not that I cared.



"That was a wonderful little story you told me in the car. I was a little upset about where it might be going at first, but once I heard the ending... well, even a Lady has a mischevious side. Shall we see how it ends now that I'm telling the story?"



Again, a giggle.



"Yes, ma'am." My body, my mind... they were nothing except what She told me they were. And She told me they were Hers. "I" didn't matter... Her voice became my thoughts... I was simply an extension of Her. Her thoughts. Her desires. Her pleasures.



Her.



Every sensory fiber in my body was tensed, focused entirely on Her voice... every breath, every inflection.



Every command.



Another giggle, a little sigh... "mmmm... you know every knob on the control box is at 10, don't you?"



"Yes, ma'am..."



"To be honest, I am very impressed with your obedience.... I have some devoted "fans" for lack of a better word, but I think you are soooo very much where I envision putting a man's mind and body when I make my little trances. So in a nice sort of way, we're about to fulfill both our fantasies.... you are suuuch a goood boy."



Arrrrrrrgh.... I moaned... my vocal cords were silent. My body, my BEING, moaned... and She heard it. She leaned over, Her fingernails, the soft tips of Her fingers brushed across my face, down my neck and across my chest. Somehow I know it happened that way, but all I remember is sheer pleasure. Sheer obedience. They are the same.



She whispered in my ear, "I want you to listen closely..." I felt her breath, and the fog closed back in.



"...and now you understand your place. With me, with yourself, with the world."



Again the fog cleared and the desire, the need to obey, to please... it was all there, even more intense, if that was possible. It wasn't a thought process... it was just there... obey, please, surrender. Not thoughts... Truths.



"Hmmmm... very good. I am so pleased."She was lying next to me now, propped up on one elbow. Clothed? I have no fucking idea. It didn't matter. I was filled with need... I neeeeed... I neeeeddd!!!!!... I neeeee.... what did She tell me.... God, I neeeeeeed...



Her soft lips touched my cheek, and formed a word... then another sensation, as a single red fingernail pressed down on the base of my cock.



"Release."



Her finger pressed down on my cock as it surged beneath Her, semen pumping, spraying, splattering all over me. The depth and intensity of the orgasm was crushing, pounding, demanding, exhausting...



I couldn't have cared less.



I felt what I needed to... every part of my being now centered on my manhood, pumping, driving... driving my will out of my body and into her hand.



Her Hands. I was in Her Hands.



I can only describe the experience, the orgasm, the completeness of surrender, with one word...



Pure.



Pure pleasure, pure mindlessness, pure obedience, pure desire.



Pure thought, pure recognition. Pure understanding.



Pure peace. Pure happiness.



With myself. With the world.



With Lady Julia.



*****************************



I think of Her often... of course we've never seen each other again.



If we ever did.



I keep thinking it might have all been a dream... after all, if I can't remember everything, did anything happen? Why am I typing emails to a friend, a woman in Tennessee, that I met somewhere, that whispered something in my ear...? At least I think she did. I did, after all, say this was a fantasy. I don't know what she said, so did She? I mean, did we meet? We did, I think. Fantasy or reality... she whispered something... so that's real, right? It had to be real... it was important.



It was Important.



To Her.



Anyway... that's the story. The phone's ringing... I gotta go. I hardly answer the damn thing anymore... sometimes when I answer, it's... someone... I get off on some long conversation with... someone... and lose an entire afternoon or evening.



It drives me nuts... I'll just pick up the phone... and ... it's a woman.



And She giggles.



That's all I remember.



It's all I need to remember.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* Lady Julia's note: One of my very sweet friends wrote this short story for me last fall (can't believe I am so far behind with all my online activities that it's taken me til now to publish this). I was thinking about him earlier today and this story drifted into my mind. I'm hoping, good boy that he is, that he still reads my thoughts and that he will feel a degree of excitement to see his words here. You are a good boy, aren't you, J? ;)

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

- ee cummings

More on Girl/Girl Equals Hot/Hot

I've received several really interesting comments on yesterday's post, "Girl/Girl Equals Hot/Hot". To those of you who responded - nicely done and thank you so much! To those who haven't yet responded, I hope you will as this topic really interests me. I'm holding the comments until a few more answer as I want to give everyone a chance to say what's on their mind without having to worry about mirroring others' thoughts. I'll approve all those comments either later today or tomorrow.

For those of you who feel shy about responding, please feel free to post anonymously. Your thoughts are important to me and I'd enjoy reading them, especially knowing you shared something even though it was difficult to share.

Girl/Girl Equals Hot/Hot?

For years I've heard men speak of their excitement when they think about, hear about, or witness physical intimacies between two women and I've often wondered why. I seldom hear my female friends profess to find watching two men together to be "hot". Yes, men are very visual beings so I can see where that factors in, but even when watching extremely tender intimacies between men (where the female viewer's emotional buttons should be pushed), women don't seem to be nearly as affected.

In looking at the above photo last night, I was struck by the sheer beauty of the bodies of the ladies depicted. Is this what excites some men so? Still.. there are many beautiful sexual acts between men and women yet they're not usually depicted in porn. This leaves me thinking no... I don't see how it could *only* be the beauty of the interaction or porn would be a totally different animal.

So I'm asking - are you excited by watching two women together? What about the interaction appeals to you? Is there appeal even when you know you won't be invited to join? How would you feel if your wife/girlfriend admitted she was drawn to women sexually in addition to being sexually attracted to you? Would you ever want to watch your female partner have sex with a woman? What about watching her make love to another woman (yes, there is a difference)? Would any of this affect your sexual self-confidence?

Lots of nosy questions, I know. I'm not even sure I expect any answers.

I'll admit for myself that I've thought of being with another woman. I think I am much more likely to find relationship compatibility with men (after all, I *love* men), but I'd be lying if I said I never fantasized about being with my fella and another woman at the same time. Don't get me wrong ;) The other woman would *not* be there for his benefit - she would be there for *my* pleasure. In fact, I quite like the thought of tying him up and having him watch. It's not really something I would do because I'm a monogamous person, but it's really really fun to think about ;)

You've Got That Sexy Feeling

I love the feeling of sexy lingerie, especially when the ensemble is topped off with long, black gloves. Watching my covered fingertips slide over his body, tracing along certain things, teasing certain things - well that quite easily holds my attention and his too ;)

Many people say that clothes don't make a person sexy, rather that it's all in the attitude. To a great extent, I agree. If someone doesn't feel sexy in the first place, no apparel is going to change that. However, if we already feel sexy, certain things we don can really bump things up a few notches.

If you were to don the outfit that makes you feel the sexiest, what would it be? If you could choose an outfit for someone to wear, what would it include?



Not a clue as to why he has a rake, but mmm mmm.

And The Magic Number is.... Eight!

Sometimes, we're just tired. Of course this applies to everyone, but at this precise moment I'm referring to Dommes. Sometimes we're physically and mentally exhausted from all the different ways we're pulled throughout the day - kids, co-workers, bosses, friends, parents, and even our partners. In the real world, most Dommes are real women like everyone else. We're not always ready for hot dominant kinky sex 24/7, we're not always ready to flog men at a moment's notice (some of us are never ready for that), we're not even always ready to issue commands. I know the authors of the "real-life" articles you may have read on various sites profess otherwise, but a common-sensical look easily reveals the line between fantasy and reality if we care to examine things.

My intention is not to destroy the illusion. I'm sure there are many who like to think of Dommes as perfect, "on-all-the-time", whip-wielding Amazons. While I like to share the wonderfully sexy, kinky, exciting things that happen in my life as much as the next person, I think that it's important to occasionally share about surviving the tough times. If we persist in making D/s look perfect, then what happens to all those who are new and barely delving into all this kinky wonderfulness?

So for those who like me are imperfect with imperfect lives, who are tired and stressed quite often, and who do not always feel "on", I thought I'd occasionally share some ideas I have for what I call "Simple Dominance". As I've said many times before, dominance doesn't have to be difficult. For instance, consider how easily "eight" can become a magical number that stays on his mind more and more.

I'm not interested in long term chastity, but short term tease and denial is fun. Teasing him and denying him, mind you - not denying myself. I have a suggestion for a ritual that really hits the spot for those of a similar mind. (Rituals are important to submissives - it reminds them on a regular and consistent basis of the dominant's control and the submissive's surrender.) Consider how simple it would be for the Domme to set forth a directive that the submissive may only touch himself, may only release every 8th day unless told otherwise. He may not ask for release, may not ask permission to touch at any time. On the eighth day, he may only touch and release under the specific conditions she sets forth. The dominant on the other hand may use him at any time she likes, any way she likes - from tease, to denial, to delicious oral pleasure, to full on intercourse. She chooses - she's in control each and every day. If she's not up to playing, no worries, no pressures - he has his instructions. Every day at many times throughout the day, he'll be reminded of her control and his surrender and he'll be excited by this.

On day six, it is his responsibility to remind the Domme that day eight is only two days away. Of course, in order not to direct the Domme in any way and to insure he remembers that it's all her decision, he reminds her while kneeling, wearing only his collar - nothing else. She may smile and say nothing. Perhaps she'll extend his period of waiting to a time more to her convenience. Perhaps, she'll give him instructions for day eight. She could easily tease him about what she will do to and with him on day eight and allow him to anticipate that moment for the next two days. Perhaps she'll end the anticipation right at that moment, taking him then and there. Yum ;) The point is (getting back on track after being distracted with delicious thoughts..) is that he keeps track of the days (I'm pretty each of you fellas would be able to tell to the second how long it had been!!). At the same time she's reminded in a non-directive way without having to worry about keeping track of things and without having to worry about neglecting him.

Eight days of course is an arbitrary number. Perhaps it would be five or eleven or even twenty-nine. I like the thought of keeping it a number that is not a multiple of seven so it is more difficult for him to keep track of the date. The more often he thinks about it, the better. He'll be thinking of her control, her pleasure, his tease, his denial, and perhaps his eventual release. Any day is a magic number because the Domme chooses it. She has assumed control in a way that allows them both pleasurable anticipation. He looks forward to day eight and she look forward to day eight PLUS anything and everything that may come in between.