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Where’s my purse?

Three weeks ago I left work, two hours later than usual, and went to pick my son up from his Auntie. As I pulled into the parking lot and reached for my purse I suddenly realized I had left it at the office. Not only did I leave it at work, I left it on my desk in an office that runs 24/7. My department doesn’t work 24/7 but several do and one of them is right next to mine. Unfortunately I didn’t know any of the people who were working in the office that night so once I picked my son up I had to haul my ass back to the office to retrieve my purse.

This is something that happens to me on too regular a basis, although that was the first time I had left it at the office. Today was the second time. At least today I left it locked away in a drawer. Thankfully I had petty cash delivered and my purse was in the drawer I lock the petty cash in. When did I notice my purse was missing? About ten minutes ago when I went to get my wallet to make an online purchase.

I once went to pick up groceries and realized my wallet wasn’t with me when I went to pay. Yeah, that was embarrassing with a line of people behind me. That was the beginning of one of the most unforgettable days of my life, and not because it was a great day. Actually, tomorrow will mark the 14th anniversary of that day. Yes, I remember it quite vividly still. Being without my wallet at the grocery store was just the beginning. After the grocery store embarrassment I caught the oven on fire while cooking dinner. And no, I’m not a bad cook. Honestly. Once I got that mess cleaned up I headed out to a movie with a friend. When the movie was over we came out to the parking lot to find my car one tire short. Someone had taken it and left my car sitting there all wonky on three tires. Was that the end? Nope. I capped the day off at the hospital getting five stitches in my finger. Now do you understand why I remember that day so well?

Despite the terrible day that was, there was another day when forgetting my purse was worse. My ex and I were going through separation and I had decided to go on vacation to a spot I enjoy on the north shore of Lake Superior. I thought a week away on the lake with no phone or television would do wonders for my state of mind. I needed to do something but that trip wasn’t it. I was at the airport, bags and ticket in hand, when I realized I had left my purse at home.

I can’t even begin to explain to you how I felt at that moment. I was sabotaging myself. I was falling apart and losing my mind in the process. The inn was understanding and didn’t charge me for the short cancellation notice and the plane ticket was booked with points so I wasn’t out any money, but that wasn’t the point. It didn’t matter that I was only going 1200 kms away or if I was going to the other side of the planet. I was so sad and heartbroken. My ex didn’t make me feel any better about it.

There were reasons I was being absent-minded about my purse all those years ago. What are the reasons behind it now? How do I get my mind back? How do I stop leaving my purse places? How do I keep my head attached so I don’t accidentally leave it somewhere one day?

 

 

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Cunt Busting?

At a workshop I attended this past summer on pussy torture I learned what cunt busting was. I have to tell ya, not a fan. I enjoy me some pain but getting punched or kicked in the cunt is not the kind of pain I’m into. I was thinking about how painful it would be when it dawned in me that I had indeed had my cunt busted before. Although, it was not in the same context as the workshop and not at someone else’s hand, or foot as the case may be.

I was about 13 years old and spending the afternoon with one of my friends from school. We had gone for a walk to the store and watched a movie, Footloose. I remember the movie because we were dancing around the kitchen like a couple of fools and her mother told us to go outside, out of her hair she put it.

We went outside and were trying to figure out what to do. Not another walk. Her badminton racquet was broken, so no badminton. Then her brother, who I had the biggest crush on, arrived. He flew down the driveway on his 10-speed, threw it down on the ground, adjusted his leather jacket and went inside. I always thought he looked a lot like James Dean, though I couldn’t picture James Dean doing what he had just done.

We decided a bike ride would be the thing to keep us out of her mother’s hair. Problem was there was only one girls bike. You know, the one with the straight crossbar. No odds, I’ll ride her brother’s bike. Couldn’t be that hard. Nice thought, not so nice result.

Hopping on the bikes we headed out, down the road one way, back again. Then up around the bend towards the quarry. There is a large paved area there where the roads meet, not an intersection though as the roads do not come together at the same point. You can ride around in circles and do tricks or whatever due to the size and being able to see cars coming long before they are upon you. We didn’t want to go down the hill as it was quite steep and the bakes weren’t working so we stayed there on that area of the road.

My friend had been doing some kind of tricks on her bike that I wanted to do, or at least to the degree I could considering the state of the bike I was riding. I tried to turn around but was too close to the side of the road I was facing and didn’t quite make it. Boom! I hit the side of the road, going too fast on a bike that was too big and wasn’t able to properly stop. I went head over heels, still holding on to the handlebars and in the process jammed my crotch into the stem of the bike. You know, the joint where the handlebars and bike frame connect. Holy mother of god did that hurt!!

I must have passed out for a moment because I went from hitting the side of the road and feeling the impact against my crotch to being in the ditch with my friend trying to pull the bike off me. She was trying not to laugh as she asked if I was ok. If I hadn’t been in so much pain I’m sure I would have been laughing too. Unfortunately I felt more like throwing up at that moment. As I tried to get out of the ditch and to my feet I was thinking how glad I was nobody had seen. Apparently that thought had come too soon as seconds later I spotted a crippled old man coming towards us. He had seen the whole thing from his living room window and came to see if I was ok. Embarrassment factor just went through the roof.

It took some help, from both of them, but I finally managed to get to my feet. Still hunched over in pain I hobbled back to my friend’s house with the bike, her walking hers beside me and the crippled old man making his way back to his lookout post. Seriously, that’s what old people do, sit at home looking out the window to see what their neighbors are up to. They make for a good neighborhood watch.

But back to the topic at hand…

This was not a pain I would ever like to experience again. I honestly do not know how people enjoy it. It isn’t a sharp pain. It isn’t a dull pain. It’s somehow neither yet a combination of both. It’s like running full speed into a concrete wall except it’s your genitals that receive the impact rather than your skull. Pinching, slapping, even the occasional bite, my cunt likes these. A kick, a punch, that piece of steel from the bike, no thanks. You can use a flogger, a paddle, a Wartenberg wheel. You can pin it, clamp it, or pump that pussy up. Just please, PLEASE, don’t treat it like you’re trying to win an ultimate fighting challenge.



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Cinderella’s Scarf

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she fled in haste

like Cinderella after the ball

her scarf left blowing in the wind

 

 

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Canadian Autumn

The quintessential sign of Autumn in Canada.

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Too Vanilla

Somebody told me my posts so far this month have been “too vanilla.” When I asked why he considered them too vanilla he said that I wrote a sex blog and there needed to be more sex. My response to that was to ask if he had sex every day. No, he said, but that’s your job, to write about sex and kinky stuff.

Let me first say, no, that is not my job. My job revolves around numbers and data and making sure my part of the finance department at the company who employs me runs properly. My next job is to raise my child to be a decent human being. This blog is not my job. It does take work but it is not my job.

This blog is about me, my life, my desires, and my thoughts on a variety of subjects. It is a place for me to express my creativity. Yes, my posts are mainly of the adult, sex and erotica nature, but that isn’t all of it. That isn’t all of it because my life and thoughts and desires involve more than that.

The tag line here says, “There are times to be vanilla and times you just have to get your kink on.” That’s my truth. I am a combination of both kink and vanilla, as we all are. The only difference between us is the degrees to which we are kinky or vanilla. My life is not 100% sex and kink so my blog isn’t 100% sex and kink.

To my reader’s credit though, there is more vanilla content this month than I would normally post. The reason for that is I am doing National Blog Posting Month, also known as NaBloPoMo. I have to post something every day this month. If I were having sex every day, or playing every day, then my posts would reflect that. But I’m not, so my posts aren’t.

The main reason I decided to participate in NaBloPoMo was to get me back into the mindset of writing and posting more often than I had been. Too often we let other things override our desire to write or because we aren’t in a “sexy” mood. These things have happened to me in the past and I’m sure they will again in the future. For now I am enjoying the creativity this exercise has sparked in me, how it is changing the way I look at certain things and yes, I will continue to share some of my more vanilla posts.

 

 

 

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Fantastic Tongue

“More tongue, Baby. Use that fantastic tongue of yours.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she obeyed. She would never disobey him, even when obeying was a challenge. Nothing worth having , nothing worth achieving, ever came without a challenge. That is what Daddy always said and she knew he was right.

Julie took the cock into her mouth again, determined to make it pleasurable this time. She let her tongue slip out and trace a trail along the bottom of the shaft to the tip, taking a moment to flick the underside and swirl her tongue around the head. A groan escaped the lips of the man attached to the cock. See Daddy, she thought. He’s enjoying it. I can be a good girl, Daddy. She stole a look and saw approval in his eyes.

The man groaned again as she continued to suck and lick. “She really is spectacular Bob. That mouth of hers, that tongue. Damn! You are a lucky man.”

“That I am, ” he responded. “That I am.” Then, turning his attention to Julie, “Come on Babygirl, show this old bastard some lovin.”

Julie was happy to hear her Daddy talk about how lucky he was to have her, although she knew that she was truly the lucky one to have such a loving and thoughtful Daddy. She would do anything for him and she knew he would always be there for her, supporting her, guiding her, loving her the way only he could.

As she went back to the task at hand she thought about her tongue and the fantastic things she could do with it. She had used it on many a man, and woman. She enjoyed it, the feeling of power she got from knowing how much pleasure she was giving them. It gave her pleasure as well. The feeling of a woman’s body reacting to her tongue lapping at her clit and invading her pussy. That was hot. The feel of a man’s cock going from soft to rock hard in her mouth with her lips firmly around it and her tongue swirling about the head. That was pure delight.

There were times, like today, when she couldn’t find the pleasure in it though. It wasn’t because her partners weren’t into it, often they were the ones being more vocal than not about how awesome she was. She did have a fantastic mouth and tongue, Daddy told her all the time, but it was not for everyone. It was different when it was someone else, though having him there with her helped. Just knowing he was there and hearing his voice helped her get past any initial nervousness or apprehension she might have, usually.

Today she couldn’t get into it. She sucked and licked, she caressed and kneaded, she opened up her throat and took every bit of him in. He groaned in appreciation enjoying every moment but she just couldn’t no matter how hard she tried. She imagined it was Daddy’s cock in her mouth. She loved sucking Daddy’s cock. To her, his was absolute perfection. Big and firm, but not too big as to hurt her jaw, and it was smooth, so smooth, with a little tuft of hair at the base. Julie closed her eyes and imagined.

The man’s groaning became louder and he started pumping, driving his cock into her mouth. She fought to keep up with him, to not just open up and let him fuck her mouth. She grabbed his ass and held him firmly, letting her mouth do the moving rather than him. She was more than ready for this to be over but she knew she had to do it right or Daddy would not be pleased. She had to show control and allow him to release at the right time.

“Are you ready Babygirl?”

She managed a nod while continuing her action on the man’s cock.

“Do it, Baby. Make Daddy proud.”

Julie knew what to do. She took the cock into her mouth with her lips about half way down his shaft. Then quickly moved her head back while her tongue kept pressure on his cock and flicked the tender underside of the head as it slid out of her mouth. A few quick strokes with the same movements, then it was time. She opened up her mouth, her throat, and took the cock all the way in. At the same moment she pressed one finger at the base of his scrotum behind his balls and inserted another well lubricated one into his ass.

“Arggg…” She felt the hot cum sliding down her throat as his body twitched and bucked trying to release every ounce. He was done.

“Great job, Baby. That’s my good girl.”

“Holy fuck! That was amazing! I don’t know where you learned those moves but you are one talented young woman.”

Julie gave him a little smile, thankful it was over. She couldn’t wait to get back to their hotel room, have a nice hot shower and snuggle with Daddy.

 

 

This week’s challenge was to make bad sex sound good. I may have come up with the challenge, but that does not mean I was able to meet it.
Click the Wicked Wednesday button below to see how others rose to the challenge.

  

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Photo courtesy of A to sub Bee

Welcome to Elust #63 -

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Erotic Non-Fiction

Two Hours of Bliss
Save the Sheets
All He Could Do Was Moan.
I’ll Have What She’s Having
Attitude on the Autobahn
Go get a toy so you can fuck yourself.
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Why I love my Packer
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Not Your Fetish
Why Kinky Women Are All Gold-Digging Trash*
Schoolgirls a Lasting Obsession
Kink-Blocked by Burners

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Sex and Motherhood – Part 1
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