A small (big) change

A few weeks ago, with the onslaught of the recent adult blog purge from WordPress.com, I decided to self-host my site. However, it seems that my move may have affected my list of subscribers somehow. The only way I know to semi-remedy this situation is by writing this last post on my WordPress.com account. Now, here is the thing; I have found that if I post through WordPress.com, it will appear in the reader BUT not on my self-hosted site. As the admin told me when I asked for help:

I have moved over all your WordPress.com subscribers as requested. Please keep in mind that while your email subscribers will continue to receive email notifications of new posts as before, WordPress.com followers will only see new posts in the Reader. They will not receive email updates unless they subscribe to receive those on your new site.

So, if you would still like to follow my new (old?) site, click here to go to the website, and once there, scroll down a bit and subscribe to the blog using your email or any of the other methods available for you. This will be my last post through WordPress.com; I hope I’ll still get to see some of you around…


A ghost from fucks past

This week I have been feeling more like myself. I am sick still, this time with a wicked chest cold, but I’m fine any other way, and my sexy hormones have made a resurgence in tenacity. However, Sir Dre is still not feeling back to his old self, and now that I find myself ready for that intense ride that only He can give me, I must be patient and wait for Him, as He had waited for me, to be ready. For some time, we hadn’t spoken on the phone, only text messages here and there. We finally spoke this week, and I told Him He is in my thoughts, and that whatever comfort I can provide for him, He only needs to let me know of it, and I will do it.

However, I couldn’t help but think of my past moments with Him and other lovers, such as Alejandro. And, like the witch that I am, he must have felt me thinking of him because I received a text message within an hour of my old fuck buddy popping into my head (and subsequently after I had masturbated to the thought him and how he smelled like sweet almonds). He told me how he missed me, that I was “one of a kind” and that he “didn’t take advantage of the set up we had.” Praise upon praise, and even a free photo of his cock that he really wanted to show me, since I warned him he would get nothing in return from me. Even though sex with Alejandro wasn’t mesmerizing, I kind of missed him, but not because he was a great guy or had a beautiful dick (although I won’t deny it was quite handsome). Going out to meet up with him was fun and out of the ordinary. For a little while, and hour or two, I was someone else, going out to do something other than shop, or run an errand, or buy groceries. I miss, well, being a slut. I think that is the best way to put it.

I have tried to read up on other blogs to see what has been going on, but it only reminds me of the things I haven’t done, especially women. I still deeply yearn for a woman’s touch, and have yet to find a female to connect to. It is really this difficult to find a woman who can be both my friend and my lover? Or is it just hard for me? Whatever it is for now I’ll wait and be patient with all areas of my sex life. I have toys to keep me company, and a new hobby that I hope to turn into a source of income, but that it yet to be seen. Oh but I miss being here, writing and exposing my lady bits for a few seconds of your time and attention. It satiates some slutty part of me, especially during these dry times and uncertain times.

ss7-6-13.2This is for Hy. I snapped this for Boobday and didn’t get to submit it on time. It was taken on the Fourth of July, and as you can see, I was feeling patriotic with the nail design I did on my fingers a few days before. The photo below is for Sinful Sunday. I was lounging on the sofa with one of my cats, in my red panties and the morning light languidly shining through the window. I have made personal decisions today that will hopefully lead to a more liberated me, and I just want to get back into the flow of things.



Be Sinful with me…


e[lust] #47

Chintz Curtain Condoms

Photo courtesy of Behind the Chintz Curtain

Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at e[lust].  Want to be included in e[lust] #48? Start with the newly updated rules, come back July 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~


This Scene Called Life

I Don’t Give A Fig

9 Reasons You SHOULD Have Sex on a First Date

~ Featured Posts (Molly’s Picks) ~

East Side Exhibitionism


~ Readers Choice from  Sexbytes ~

Threesomes: Being a Good Little Unicorn

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Erotic Non-Fiction

Sexentric News and Public Cam-Sex Report
The Play’s the Thing
Sadistic Bitch
It was a good night
Kink Chronicles – Panties
Quickie Afternoon Delight
“No, you don’t!” 
“Objectification” by Blacksilk
So I Asked SilverHubby About Our Orgasms
For Pity’s Sake, No
Like a Virgin
Three Ashes
His Princess and His Slut
I hope my neighbors got a show.



I want to know You
Once Upon an ‘O’


Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Testosterone! Don’t Leave Home Without it!
Why Modeling Is Poison
On the swingset
Achievement Unlocked
How To Make A Woman Orgasm
Mutual Masturbation is Mother****ing Awesome!
The Wonder of Weddings
Introvert recovery
May is International Masturbation Month
Make love to yourself


Erotic Fiction

Fighting Spirit
Dinner is Served
Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Five
Belle and Sandy
Babygirl Gets Caught


Writing about Writing

Beauty and the kebab


Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Return of the Vulcan Penis Problem
Masturbation Mishaps, Introduction
“For Novelty Use Only”
BDSM Lexicon Entry #24: Aftercare


Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Mad Men: the dominance of Don Draper
Wicked Wednesday – Knowing When to Say No
Why Do I Like Being Owned?
The difference between BDSM & Abuse



Beneath your Beautiful

There are moments in time, an hour, a week, a month—which ever stands out–that you feel the luckiest, the most loved, and highly desired by one person. It feels right; cosmic in the sense that you know you belong in this moment and no one else could have taken your place. That love and fondness can exist in a moment of such global and personal sadness; and although you know what awaits for you when you fall from this cloud, the view was worth the climb…

Poor Henri hadn’t been in the gym for almost two weeks, so when he finally went yesterday, he came back sore to the point of losing his appetite. Despite that, he continued snatching at my tits and grabbing my ass, smacking it from time to time. When we put our son to bed, I went to take a shower while he relaxed and watched a movie. As per proper pussy care, I do not put on underwear immediately after washing up unless I’m in a rush to go somewhere. I basically let my pussy air dry. Most of the time (like right now as I sit here typing) I don’t wear any panties under my pants at home, again, unless I am going somewhere of good distance. A quick trip to the grocery store (right down the block) does not count. So, there I was splayed open on the bed, opposite the fan, carelessly airing my cunt and watching some unimportant television show.

“Mmmm, that looks delicious,” Henri said with a twitch of his eyebrows and broad grin. I jokingly rebuffed him, thinking that I was doing him a favor and it wasn’t only because his body was in pain. In the past, we have had less than successful pussy eating sessions. I am not one to fake anything; there have been times where he has eaten me out and I just lay there, not entertained, not enjoying myself. It may be harsh, but I either end it and go to bed or change positions and take over to avoid hurting his feelings. So last night, despite the fact that the last time he ate my pussy it was quite amazing, I brushed off his comments, even telling him “I don’t think you can physically handle this tonight” and putting shorts on. He looked at me with an “Oh really?” look on his face and pushed against me, causing me to fall on the bed.

He spread my legs wide open, moving my shorts to the side, and went in wholeheartedly. He was vicious, and in a few minutes time I felt guilt for doubting him. I grabbed at sheets, and held my legs open wide, assisting him by holding onto my shorts, so he could just focus his tongue lapping up my juices. His fingers probed my ass, and there was no second guessing from either one of us. In shutting down for almost a month, I hadn’t had any anal sex or anal play, until about four days ago. It wasn’t the same by myself, I quickly realized, his fingers awakening the rest of my lethargic libido. I’ve missed it so much.

“I’m…I’m ssso…” I couldn’t get the words out. They lodged in my throat upon every thrust of his finger. “I’m sorry…I won’t say that ever again.” The apology was genuine and flew out of my lips before I could process it in my brain.


He stopped abruptly and mockingly said, “Nah, I can’t handle it tonight.” He faked disinterest while he walks to the other side of the room, but I ignore him and remove my shorts, assuming the position (doggy) in the middle of our bed. The talk meant nothing; in one smooth movement, he had taken his briefs off and was inside of me, pumping away and adding more hurt to his sore abs and muscles until he couldn’t bear with it anymore and had to stop. Propped up on pillows, he rested, catching his breath. He looked so beautiful; sexy as hell, and just an overall specimen of a man. My heart hurt with love and passion. I knew he was tired, but I didn’t want to stop. Cock in hand, I returned the oral favor, in hopes that he would cum in my mouth, and that I’d take out my Rabbit to finish myself off, ensuring that we’d both be satisfied by the end of the night. But his hunger for me was stronger that I gave him credit for (probably due to the work out) and he was soon on top, my pussy singing and my eyes rolled back. My response is different now when I have sex ever since Sir Dre came into my life. I used to make sounds to fill the silence; I thought being vocal meant I was enjoying myself. But, when I am truly in a state of utter lust, I am quiet, speaking only when the chords of pleasure are plucked internally and the need to release sound is automatic. After reaching orgasm, he assisted me while I buzzed away with my rabbit. I came almost instantly, his finger in my ass and my tit in his mouth.

Kinky sessions with Sir Dre are always fascinating. Sex with other men, well that was like having a sandwich for lunch: nothing special but it’ll do for now. Sessions with Henri, which would be considered as vanilla, are needed and valued. He still makes me feel like a fuck toy, which I love, but there are times like yesterday, where there was no hesitation and I was 100% myself. He was so confident, comfortable, full of love, and I felt so sexy and turned on around him and by him. It is rejuvenation, and the high from yesterday will hopefully help hold me over for the next few days since Henri is working late this week as well. We won’t eat dinner together again until Wednesday night. I don’t like it, but I wait for it like an answer to a prayer.

The song that inspired the post and title for Masturbation Monday


Want to be my benefactor and send me to Eroticon?

Let’s get xxxesty

I’m finishing up my post for Masturbation Monday, when this commercial comes on. I’m not usually one to get turned on by corny commercials, but this was made me tingle a bit. Am I wrong?

The way he rubs the dough, the spank, and that bum and chest isn’t so bad to look at either. And now, I want to buy that dressing, and make that pizza.


Want to be my benefactor and send me to Eroticon?

Seismic stress release

We were lounging on our bed, Henri waiting for his brother Pierre to pick him up in his new pre-owned car. Brothers always competing. While we waited, he slips his hands in my shirt, as he always does, to fondle my braless nipples, which they are always free when I’m at home. My chest is his spot for his fingers to relax.


First he starts off by just rubbing them, grasping the whole breast and massaging. Eventually, he signals in on my nipples, rolling them between his fingers. He pinches and pulls, getting into a rhythm. While I’m experiencing waves of feel good chemicals and squirming in my obvious arousal, he continues, like a child comforted by his soft blanket.


He has lulled himself to sleep this way plenty of times. Some people have stress release balls to squeeze, he has my breasts, which are always available.


See who else is being Sinful xxx


Want to be my benefactor and send me to Eroticon?

Be my Benefactor?

So, how many of you out there have read Great Expectations? I have been contemplating posting about this; mostly because my pride tells me not to. But my heart, she ultimately decides on the passionate things that go on in my head. And right now, I have no choice but to let her take the wheel (or the keys, depending on what metaphor works for you).

I briefly made a reference to my less than ideal financial issue before, and that was one of the reasons I was afraid to pitch any ideas about donation. But lets face it, this is not unusual in the time we live in. What does seem to be a regular every day occurrence is aspirations disappearing because of circumstance, and I don’t want to let that become my outcome. I’ve been writing since the age of 11 and a lover of the written word since I learned how to read at the age of 6. I’ve secretly wanted to be a published author long before I had personally acknowledged it during my teenage years. I didn’t believe I ever could do it. Instead of majoring in Creative Writing in college, I took “Literary Specialization.” I read a lot of books, and wrote a lot of essays, none of which helped my true passion, but still the dream didn’t fade away. I graduated, got pregnant and married. But my fingers itch all the time, and my brain thinks of stories, passages, and stanzas that I should put to paper, and sometimes don’t. This blog, so far, is the only thing I’ve ever dedicated time and written creativity to. I’d like to continue expanding, growing as a person and writer.

Here is where I bat my lashes at you…

If you haven’t heard about Eroticon, then go visit the link and read up! It is a convention, originated in the UK, where erotic bloggers and writers network with each other, and more importantly learn from one another. My writing, according to some of you out there who are way too kind, is said to be good; but I know it can be better, and I want it to be. For the first time, Eroticon is coming to the United States in October, and I am dying to go. I’ve spoken to some friends (who know about my blog and what I write about) and they have told me they will try to help if they can. Now, I am reaching out to you, the people who encourage me to write in the first place. The personal, the obscene, fiction and truth, I put it all out there so I can connect with the real people I am not surrounded by, going through the same things, using them as lessons or wishing for these desires. I also do it because if I captivate one person with something I write, it feeds coal to a my dreamy fire, and it’s nice to hold on to an old wish when it still has the possibility of coming true.

So, with that said, I have set up a donation page at GoFundMe to help raise money to send me to Eroticon. This is, quite honestly, a last resort. Henri and I have spoken about it, but the wedding and other unseen circumstances have left us unable to fund the trip. It would be nice to go, but I am prepared not to (if I did, it would feel like a Lifetime movie ending). Still, anything that you can contribute, if you are able, will be greatly appreciated. If I could scrape up the money to go (both from what is donated and my own), prepare to read about my visit to what will hopefully be history in the making. I have confidence that Eroticon is only going to get bigger and I’d love to be apart of it. But, if you can’t, I’m just glad you stopped by in the first place. Honestly.

Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but – I hope – into a better shape.” 
― Charles DickensGreat Expectations

^Clickity click^


June 7th 2013 is Boobday!

Once again, I am late for my Boobday submission to Hy’s blog. But, I am still participating, sick and all!

The weather in New York as been wacky. Currently, it is a wet and chilly 61°, while less than a week ago, it was a high of 92°. Due to the changes, my son and husband got sick with a cold. While I took care of them and they have completely or partially recuperated, now I’m sick with the addition of some bad back pain and cramping, and there is no one here to take care of me. C’est la vie, right?

Anyway, I am currently in my fave, comfortable gray shirt that I usually wear without pants. My plan is to wear this shirt all day today and tomorrow, rest up, and try to get better by Monday. Here I am this morning, after taking my son to the bus, with my comfy ass shirt on, no pants, and the only time today I wore a bra.


I hope everyone has a great weekend!


Click to see more lovely boobies!


The Wonder of Weddings

Did you know that the two events in life that can either break apart a family, or bring them all together, are weddings and funerals? Perhaps it is not a scientific fact, but from experience, I know it is true. My mother-in-law went into full ‘bridezilla’ mode, in a way I never thought this sweet woman could, for her wedding that took place this past Saturday.

When Henri and I got engaged, I began looking up information on the cost of a wedding: location, dress, ceremony, flowers, and tuxes. I did eight months of research when I came to the reality of the situation: weddings are expensive. And with no help from our parents, we were doing this on our own. We found out I was pregnant, and decided to make plans to visit my brother who lived in Florida at the time. It was going to be our first out-of-town vacation and we were stoked. About two weeks before we were to leave New York, we discussed getting married in Florida. My brother and sister-in-law had gotten married there the previous year on the beach, with an intimate gathering right after. I had already settled with the idea that we were getting married at our nearest City Clerk’s office. But the thought of getting married at a court house basement somewhere didn’t appeal to me. When my sister-in-law told me that getting married on the beach was free, and that she would help pay for the marriage license, we figured, why not?

I was in the beginning of my second trimester in my pregnancy, and I wasn’t showing much yet. The next day after arriving in Florida, the rings we ordered arrived; we found the perfect cocktail dress, in an apple cider color that I adored; and two days later we got the marriage license, which allowed us to get hitched immediately, if we wanted to. A day before we were to come back to New York, we decided to get married. It had rained the whole day, and we weren’t sure if it would take place outdoors. But at around 3 pm, the weather began to ease up. An hour and a half before the scheduled sunset, the sun made its appearance for the first time that day. Henri left to the beach before me with my brother, while I met them there accompanied with my sister-in-law; we figured it best to stay slightly traditional and not have him see me or my dress until we were to be wed. Perhaps because of the weather that day, the beach was empty. It was only us four and the officiant, who happened to be an acquaintance of my brother, and had also presided over their wedding. The beach was perfect; no extreme hot weather or mugginess; no birds flying or nipping at us; no people that we didn’t know staring; the sun was up but not burning; and even the ocean was at a perfect temperature, warm and pleasant. Everything worked out. Under the divine open air, in the presence of two people who truly loved each other, one person as witness to a moment in the making, and among the most natural of places, we became man and wife.

wicked wednesday weddin

I had made my bouquet from silk flowers and these little purple plant stems. The best part is that I still have the bouquet.

I saw the love in his eyes, an attentive look of which I have never seen until that moment. I could see and feel his love emanating so bright that his eyes seemed lighter in color. It looked like he wanted to cry but he couldn’t because he was so happy. It became a moment where I couldn’t physically stand still; I was rocking on the heels of my feet, giddy and giggling like a little girl. We spoke our own vows, choosing not write anything down, and speak what was in our hearts and minds at that moment. We didn’t have a room of guests to see it; but the love was there either way. I felt a super natural power at work, and a love that was overwhelmingly explosive. That is what a wedding and a marriage should feel like; an event full of love.

While my special day was simple and cost efficient, my in-laws wedding was your typical traditional wedding. Church ceremony, 100 guest reception, and wedding photos taken alongside a castle. It was what she wanted. Since the New Year began, I have been a person on the outside looking into the stress of planning a low key and budget friendly wedding. While I love and adore my mother-in-law, I never knew how much a woman could change when she’s planning a wedding. It made me grateful to have gotten married that way I did. No stress, no inviting people I didn’t really want to invite, no running around and losing my mind or money. Our wedding was smooth, idyllic for us, and no less full of love, which always stands to be the most important thing. Even though she had lost her mind and manners for the past few months, her wedding was full of love: between her new husband and herself, her now newly extended family, and even the air around her. I’ve noticed that when there is love that pure and unfiltered in one space, time and nature change. You smell love, drink it in along with the oxygen and champagne. You see it in everyone’s eyes, of people that you know and those you’ve just met. Sadly, I am not used to open emotion like that. It is love I give and don’t usually see returned other than through my son, husband, or sister. But I felt it this weekend, especially from my husband, who gave me that same look from the day of our wedding; full of love and pride that I was his wife, from the moment I put on my burgundy and lace dress for the special occasion, until long after I took it off that night.

“I couldn’t have married anyone else, you know that? There is no one that I could think of taking to my father’s wedding, past or present, that isn’t you. You know what to say, when to say it, how to act. You’re amazing, and I’m happy you’re my wife.” He laid in bed and the haze of lime Coronas still wavered in his eyes. This was truth he was telling me; the beer just helped him say it without second guessing himself. It was an honest moment, between him and me, the ones people can’t see behind closed doors.

“I could feel all eyes on us, Scarlett. We were the perfect couple out there. Shit, we are the perfect couple.” He reached his arms out and I lay on his chest, his heart beat pounding in my ear and eventually falling in rhythm to mine. And then we made love that night, the next day, and the day after that.