Short Takes

The other morning, he tested-out a new technique he read in a men's magazine: 9 slow strokes, then one fast, then 8 slow and 2 fast, then 7 slow and 3 fast, then...well, you get the idea. Anyway, when he got to where the fasts exceeded the slows (4 slow and 6 fast), I had completely lost it and I exploded, and he had barely let me calm down before he quickly followed suit. He never DID get to 1 slow and 9 fast, which would have made an even 100 strokes. If the way he got ME excited is any indication, I don't think any couple actually gets to that 100th stroke! But it sure was fun trying!

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We have access to a local pool and hot-tub. If his back is sore, I'll sit behind him on the edge of the hot-tub as he soaks away the pain, and I'll massage his bare back with my bare feet. If we're absolutely sure nobody else is or will be around, he'll spin around and appreciatively kiss my crotch through my bathing-suit.

Or he'll stand behind me as I face away from him and lean against the edge of the spa, steadying myself with both hands as I lean backward into him, and he massages my shoulders and kisses the back of my neck, and I'll feel his rigid cock pressing up against my ass! MMMMMMMMM!

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I like to 69 for a lot of reasons. Mostly, you feel so intimate and equal, giving exactly what you are receiving, both expressing your love for and enjoyment of each other. In my mind, it is THE most intimate experience a couple can share.

How GOOD his tongue feels on my pussy! My orgasms from being eaten are much more intense than when we fuck. He has this trick of slowly licking side-to-side across his upper lip while pressed into my crotch. He sucks my clit up past his lips, then begins very gently nibbling, alternating between nibbles and licks and tongue-swirls, so I never know what to expect next, and it is all so pleasurable that he gets me bucking wildly into his face until I explode my ooze into his kindly, loving face. His eating me out usually last about 15 minutes. My orgasms (3-4 in rapid-fire succession) make him smile and let out a loud, appreciative "Mmmmm!" as he licks up all of my mess, and that of course sends me into yet another orgasm.

He truly enjoys my taste. I can tell by his facial expression, vocal appreciation, and the way he doesn't stop until he's licked up my every last drop onto his hungry tastebuds.

And through all of that, at the same time, I get to enjoy the taste of HIM just as much. Just knowing that it is my love for him and my skills that coaxed all that sweet, sticky love juice out of him in the first place, and I'm proud and happy that I could show him in this way, how much I truly love him. Proud to be so sexy and sexual at the "old" age of 50.

The 69 is a treat for all my 5 senses:

Taste: GOD, is he so DELICIOUS! I've acquired a real taste for the stuff, honestly!

Touch: I love the feel of the rough texture below the head, then the smooth flesh of his shaft, all gliding over my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I love to swallow, feel his warm, sweet, thick seed sliding so effortlessly down my throat. The feeling of him oozing down my throat. Somehow I am blessed to be able to take him all in with absolutely NO gag reflex!

Sight: having that up-close view of his gorgeous hard cock so close to my face. The sight of his thick come pouring out of that beautiful cock onto my tongue.

Hearing: The sound of his moans.

Smell: the scent of his fresh come right below my nose.

Yes, something to appeal to ALL of my senses at once (sight, sound, taste, smell, touch), until I'm just about on sensory overload.

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Good sex is when you feel yourselves joining as one soul. When you care as much or more about the other person's pleasure as your own. When you feel a powerful feeling of love and respect for the man wash over you, along with the orgasm that washes over you. When you know each other's bodies, each other's hot spots, so well that you just KNOW when, how, and where to touch, without guidance. When you are BOTH enjoying the foreplay so much that you put off moving to the "main event" for as long as you can, and then delay it even LONGER. When afterward, all that you BOTH want to do is lie in each other's loving arms forever.

When he doesn't pull out right away, and you feel him pulsing and throbbing even AFTER your mutual orgasms, the throbbing that tells you he is still excited to be with you and still deeply in love with you even after nearly 5 years of our relationship, and that is why he is taking a long time to calm down and regain his composure. When contentment washes over your soul, and you rest peacefully together, and then after you've both calmed down and regained normal breathing, you start in on a second round. When sex is the first thing you do in the morning and the last thing at night--and something you WANT to do all the time.

When you can't imagine spending the rest of your life without him, and without having frequent and glorious sex with him. When you go the whole day at work feeling his come inside you, and you ache to hold him again, you can't wait to show him how much you love him and lust for him and think he is the sexiest guy in the world, and you can't wait to get back home and be in his arms again, you can't wait to feel him slowly slipping into you again.

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On the trolley last Friday evening, a youngish (maybe 25-30?) woman was sitting on the sideways seat they have near all of the doors. She was tall, a little overweight but still attractive. She wore a striped blue top that unzips down the front, and it was open to her bare navel. Underneath was a matching tube top that did nothing to hide her generous endowment (made my 38Cs look tiny). You could even see a bit of her huge areolas peeking out over the top.

There were lots of empty seats on the trolley, but for some STRANGE reason, three youngish men (about her age) were seated in the sideways seat directly opposite from her, pretending to be reading, but looking up at her frequently. For her part, she had a shopping bag at her feet, and from time to time she leaned down and rummaged through it as if looking for something, giving the men a good view of her ample cleavage each time. She would look at their crotches, lick her lips, and flash them a fast smile that she probably thought nobody else saw. None of them spoke, but there was ceratinly lots of communication via eye contact and body language. I was seated close enough to observe all these goings-on.

I understand the motivation of the guys, since most men are pure preverts. The woman got some ego-stroking, I'm sure, but I would be afraid to get THAT kind of attention, you don't know what one of these guys might do to her when she got off the train in the dark.

Then it occurred to me, maybe the four know each other and this was a flirting game among acquaintances. Maybe they like putting-on a show for strangers on the trolley.

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I saw ONE man's shoe on the highway, and a mile or two further on, a woman's shoe. I pictured a happy young couple in the first heady bloom of new love and lust, driving down the freeway in a sporty convertible with the top down. She watches him drive, a feeling of genuine love washes over her, and suddenly she can't resist unbuckling his belt and lying face-down into his trousers as she strips him. He excitedly kicks his left leg skyward, and one shoe goes flying out the driver's side window (he forgot to tie it). She sits up, smiling contentedly, an off-white goo trickling down her chin.

Now it's his turn. He lifts her micro-miniskirt, delighted that she neglected to wear panties underneath. They pull off to the shoulder, quickly change places, and speed off down the highway again. She is driving now, so his hands and attention are free to be devoted 100% to her pleasure. His tongue circles and swirls, her hips buck upward, she arches her back and presses hard into his loving, attentive face. He raises her smooth, bare left leg straight up in the air and holds it there, her calf cupped in his palm. He parts her thighs to give himself more maneuvering room, as he kisses, licks, and nibbles, and in her excitement, her right leg presses down even harder into the gas pedal. She lets her left leg stretch out the driver's-side window, to spread her thighs even wider to his kissing lips and licking tongue.

With her leg sticking ever further out the window and her thighs spreading ever wider, they tool down the highway at 70...80...90, her foot pressing harder into the pedal as she grows ever wetter. At that speed, the wind tears her left shoe right off of her pretty, delicate little foot, exposing her bright-red pedicured toenails to the rush of air streaming by, cooling off her foot as the rest of her grows ever hotter.

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Whichever of us is less drained afterward, gets up and gets two warm, wet washcloths and two large bath towels, and then we each lovingly wash off the other's genitals (whatever our tongues haven't already cleaned-up), and we both lie on enormous towels. We could have a washcloth and towel ready ahead of time, but then the washcloth wouldn't be warm any more by the time we finish. And getting up to get a washcloth and towel for the other, and cleaning the other off, is such a loving gesture, we wouldn't want to lose that. We don't keep count, but I think we are about even, him getting me a towel or me getting him one, afterward. If I have sucked him off before the sex, he is usually too drained to get up, and I know it will be me who gets the towel. Likewise, if he thoroughly eats me out before we fuck, he generally gets up and gets me a towel while I lay naked, breathing heavily, spent and content, unable to move.

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We have a book called 1001 Ways to Be Romantic. This book says romance isn't a single act of a moment, but a daily lifestyle choice that BOTH partners make. Caring enough about a person to do something nice for him/her without expecting anything in return, and even if the nice thing isn't even noticed at first. It doesn't have to be flowers or a romantic dinner, it can be apologizing when you were wrong, or forgiving your partner rather than staying angry. Romance can be doing the mundane chores together: house cleaning, dishes, laundry. Making soup for your partner who has a cold. Throwing your arms around him/her, happy to see he/she made it home safely from work. Buying a gift when it ISN't a birthday or holiday, just because. The nice thing about LIVING a life of romance is, even though you do this out of love, and you don't do it with the expectation of getting anything in return, it pays HUGE dividends back to you anyway, in SO many big and small ways. It is the "living happily ever after" of fairy tales, translated into daily existence.

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Korean comedienne Margaret Cho on Comedy Central Friday night:

First of all, to set the tone, she came out in tight sweater, miniskirt, and knee-high wool socks, even I thought she looked damned cute.

She started talking about how she likes porno movies, especially from the 1970s (I agree) when the actors/actresses were real, not anorexic women with plastic 48-inch boobs, and overly muscular guys with painfully long schlongs (are they ALSO cosmetically enhanced?).

She said she likes looking at REAL men's cocks, in pornos and real life. They are like snowflakes, no two are alike and they are all beautiful! I laughed hard at that!

She spoke of how there are so many types of cocks out there, and she likes them all, except the ones that start out tiny and grow just HUGE! No, no, uh-uh, TOO much, she doesn't WANT all of that! She would ask the guy if he could put some of that back in!

She compared it to ordering a sub sandwich. She never orders the foot-long sub, too much for her. She prefers the six-incher, because she can EAT that much.

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Quantity AND quality of sex in my marriage are far superior to when I was single. There is real feeling and emotion behind it, makes it MUCH better. After four years, he knows all the right moves: how, when, and where to touch me, so it is PHYSICALLY better as well as emotionally superior to the single-life, one-night stand. We are in bed together every night, so it is natural to reach out to the one you love, cuddle, caress, kiss, at night and/or early morning, and that gets us in the mood. We often fall asleep and/or wake up simply holding hands, or with his hand on my breast and his cock against my ass, or my hand cupping his balls, or whatever, and that gets us started all over again. Or we shower together, and soaping each other up all over, gets us going again. I love when he stands behind me in the shower, enfolds his arms around my waist or my breasts, and softly kisses my shoulders as his hardening rod presses into my ass. Or we wash each other's inner thighs, my hands "accidentally on purpose" wrap around his thick manliness as his fingers slip on the soap and "fall" into my juicing-up slit. There is so much love and lust between us, that it doesn't take much of a spark or much of an excuse to get the romantic and sexual juices flowing. In my experience, that kind of connection simply does NOT occur in casual, single sex without a committed relationship behind it.

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On Fantasies:

Lifelong fantasy was making love in a waterfall, have done that twice but still a fantasy I'd like to repeat many more times.

A fantasy I've yet to carry out but probably will some day: dressed in my miniskirt and black stockings, lean against a wall in an alley, my left leg raised, left foot flat against the wall, knee pointing out, in a classic hooker pose. Frank pretends he's a stranger, and without saying a word, he lifts my mini, sinks to his knees, and proceeds to eat me to orgasm, then rises to his feet and takes me right then and there against the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist, him and the wall supporting my weight as he hammers me mercilessly, repeatedly.

A couple of fantasies I've thought about in a vague sort of way, but would never actually want to do:

7 men at once. One in my pussy, one in my mouth, one in my ass, one in each hand, and one under each foot. I had this fantasy more when I was single, I don't really think about it much now that I have a good man in my life.

Threesome: me, Frank, and another woman. I can picture my best friend since high-school as the third person.

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I'll collect more of these into another story.

-- Latina