Researching Blow Jobs~ The Beginnings of a Smut Writer Part Two

I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to make this a series on my blog. I posted the first one (which you can read here) almost a month ago. I thought I would make it a weekly thing... and then life happened. You know?

Anyway, where were we? Oh, right. I had attempted my first blow job and almost puked on Mr. McKay's penis. If you need to catch up go ahead. I will wait.

There, now we are all caught up! I'm a nerdy girl by nature, which may have contributed to my original downfall with the whole oral sex thing. I didn't know what I was doing. It freaked me out, I don't like going into situations half cocked (pun intended).

I had tried, I had failed, there was no pressure to ever do it again. But the thing was, now that I had tried, I wanted to succeed. I just didn't know how.

Then one day I was walking around a bookstore with Mr. McKay and this book caught my eye, The Good Girl's Guide to Bad Girl Sex by Barbara Keesling, Ph.D. It was on the bargain table. I honestly think it jumped out at me because it said something about bad girls and I was still in the spanko closet. I remember wondering if it would have a section on how to get your man to spank you.

I tried to look at it like I wasn't looking at it. I remember being very self conscious that someone was going to see me. But I must have flipped through it just enough to know that it would help, because I ended up with it.

Mr. McKay reminded me that he actually bought it for me. I forgot that part of the story, but it would make sense that I was so crippled with embarrassment and self consciousness that I couldn't actually walk it up to the register.

He bought some random things from around the check out and a self help book about sex for women. (I have said before how much I love him, right?)

Flipping through it now, I know I never read the whole thing. Like any good nerd I went straight for the index and looked up the parts that had what I wanted to know. There were tips on giving a blow job. I pretty much memorized them, and looking at them now, yeah, that's how I give a blow job.

I do remember skimming other parts of the book which seemed kind of ridiculous to me. One part was talking to yourself in the mirror. You know, finding your inner bad girl and coaxing her out. Another part has you record yourself while you walk and some exercises that go along with that.

There is also a whole section about masturbating, which yes, if women reading this book aren't masturbating then I am glad someone is telling them to! But I didn't need to read that part. Even though I was pretty virginal I was always—ahem—proficient in the department of self pleasure.

I mean, I'm sure all of these exercises help some people, but really I just needed a road map to a blow job.

I don't want to plagiarize this woman's book, and really there is no need to. It just breaks down what you can do in 6 steps. I remember being like, "Yes! Finally, give me some goddamn steps to follow!" (If you happen to buy the book, it's Exercise 10 in Chapter 8)

They are all like- lick the penis, put it in your mouth, flick it with your tongue. Probably nothing that I wouldn't have figured out on my own, but I feel like the book gave me some confidence. "Well now I know I'm doing this right, I read it in a book."

She even finishes up this section by urging you to perform the blow job with the lights on, so you can see each other. Apparently people normally do this in the dark and under the covers? Clearly, I have never been normal.

The book glosses over what to do when the man actually comes from your spectacular blow job skills. I will not lie to you, for the longest time I would not swallow. I could not make myself do it. It was just within the last few years that I got over that. I do all the time now, and I actually like to, it's not just a begrudging thing I do.

Thinking about all of this in depth has made me come to the conclusion that sex is all mind over matter. If you really think about any of it. I mean really think about it, it's all gross. It's all an exchange of fluids and noises and weirdness. If you overanalyze anything you're going to kill it.

Without really reading all of The Good Girl's Guide to Bad Girl Sex I will say that the author tries to communicate the same point that I came to. A lot of sex and being sexy is a state of mind, you have to be into what you're doing to do it. I don't know why that took me such a long time to figure out. 

As for the first actual successful blow job? I don't remember it. It wasn't disastrous so it doesn't really stand out in my memory. But I think the whole journey in general kind of set the stage for the way we handle new kinky things in my marriage. The framework was set up. We established something we wanted to try, we tried it, we talked about it, we figured out what worked and didn't, we talked about it some more, and tried it again. And there was never any judgment or criticizing, just an open dialogue. Really, that's how we do a lot of things.

So that is my story about learning how to give a blow job. It's kind of a common sexual act, but I doubt I am the only person who had a little trouble with it at first.

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The Beginnings of a Smut Writer~ Part One

My husband will say something to me occasionally that I find funny, he tells me he won the wife jackpot. It does make me laugh (and flatters me), but I understand why he says it. I didn't really find my kinky side until after we were married. Before that I was an awkward, bumbling, inexperienced sexual being.

I was a virgin until I was 23. I couldn't stomach the thought of giving a blow job, or really doing much in the way of sex until after that.

So it does seem weird that I write erotic romance. I would guess a lot of people who know me would be surprised. For most of my life, I came off as virginal and prudish. I would like to clarify that I was never a prude, I was hungry for information about all things sex, but if any of these conversations were happening in person I was probably wide-eyed and beet red.

You may be asking yourself how does a 23-year-old virgin become a 33-year-old smut writer with an active and kinky sex life? (Or maybe you're not, you might not care.)

I have jokingly said that these last few years have been my sexual renaissance. Supposedly women hit their sexual peak in their thirties, so I guess I am right on schedule. The thing I find funny though is that most of the women I talk to who are my age definitely had given at least one blow job before they had sex.

I never did. I never wanted to. Penises are not an attractive thing, and I am not trying to make men feel bad about their bodies, it's just if we are comparing, I find women way more appealing in the nude. Anyway, in my limited experience with boyfriends, things just never went there, because I didn't want it to.

Then I got together with Mr. McKay (back together, really, if we're keeping track the right way). We had sex. I was no longer a virgin. I owned lingerie for the first time. I was totally getting this sex thing down, and being sexy and all that.

I was going to give him a blow job. It was totally going to happen. Except I had no idea what I was doing. Now, I am one of those nerdy people that likes to know exactly what they are expecting before going into a situation. The unknown freaks me out. I am still to this day afraid of the dark. If I have to drive to some place new for a specific occasion, even with a GPS, I like to do a dry run the day before. 

And now all of a sudden I had it in my head that I was going to give my first blow job. Just like that! No tutorial or anything. My girlfriends were of no help, the ones I had the courage to ask were incredibly vague leading me to believe that they either A. had no idea either B. hated doing it C. both

I even asked Mr. McKay, who looked at me like I had three heads. Right, I guess he'd never given a blow job before either. When I exhibited any kind of nervousness or anxiety he just told me I didn't have to do it. That he wouldn't be able to enjoy it anyway if I was freaking out.

So I did what anyone would do. I got drunk. We were away for the weekend in a hotel room and I sucked down enough drinks to get rid of my nervousness. I knew the basics at least, I put his cock in my mouth and suck, right? Even though it is called a blow job. It's terribly misnamed, it should be a suck job. I think I even giggled about this on that fateful night. I'm sure he really appreciated my running narrative.

We may have made out for a little bit, knowing my husband he probably made me come first. I can't remember all of the details as this was ten years ago. What I do remember is finally just jumping in. I sunk to my knees—and the room tilted, perhaps I had had too many drinks.

I steadied myself and took a deep breath, and then almost choked on the musky smell. I'm not saying he smelled, like in a bad way, but men have that certain musky smell. You know, the manly smell. Maybe it isn't all men and I am just generalizing here, but I have always had a really acute sense of smell and that coupled with the drinks were already spelling out a recipe for disaster.

Then there was the penis itself, staring me in the face. We had had limited interactions up until this point. Sure I had touched it, it had been inside of me, but were we really at a point where I wanted to put it in my mouth? There it was looking all eager and excited, and I was struck with the thought once again that I had no idea what the fuck I was doing.

I remember licking my lips and making sure my mouth wasn't dry. This was literally the only piece of advice I got from one of my friends, and it is to this day a pretty good tip on giving a blow job. Don't jump in there with dry lips, that will not be pleasant for either one of you.

Then, without any sort of preamble I just dove straight in. And I guess I went too quickly, or I got a little too eager, because it slammed into the back of my throat and I gagged around him. I drew back, sputtering and heaving, my gag reflex triggered and I nearly vomited on his dick.

Sexy, right? But there's more!

Then there were the tears. Because what is even better than not actually getting a blow job you were anticipating getting? Oh, it's a crying inconsolable, drunk girlfriend.

If I weren't already so in love with this man at this point in time, he would have had me forever after this anyway. He was non-plussed by the entire situation. He pulled me onto the bed and wrapped me in his arms and told me it didn't matter. None of it mattered. 

We weren't even engaged at this point, but it was talked about. It was happening, we both knew it. But now I was worried. Was this a sticking point? Wouldn't he rather find some girl who could properly orally please him without almost puking?

"What if I can never do it? Can you live your whole life without it?" I remember tearfully asking him. 

He said something to the effect of getting to spend the rest of his life with me was all he wanted, he didn't care about anything else.

Swoon. Pretty much the best answer, because if he had even seemed a little annoyed about the whole outcome I doubt I would have ever tried it again. Also, would I want to marry a man that was annoyed I couldn't give him a blow job?

I still felt the undeniable need to reciprocate. He was always so selfless with the oral pleasure. And so goddamn good at it from day one. I didn't want to be lacking in this area. I was determined to try again and get the hang of it.

Maybe this was the first seed that was planted. So began my journey into my kinky self. It all started with a disastrous blow job.

To Be Continued...

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Kinky Confessions- Strip Tease!

This is a follow up to my last post , turns out it was giant, because I am very wordy! So I split it into two-

     Now today was Sunday Funday. According to facebook, most of our friends are out running 5Ks... so not our scene. We lay around on the couch all morning, then do some shopping and have a late lunch. It's all very relaxing and low key. On our way home my husband suggests some drinks followed by some kinky sex. Yes, please! I feel like I have been getting teased all week, aside from the whole spanking implement thing (which has been ongoing), there's been a lot of my husband telling me “I should spank you for that.” (Or in most cases 'hit' me, because now that I told him that's an annoying and unsexy word he keeps saying it.) I get all perked up and excited at the idea of a spanking and then he follows up with, “No way, you'd like it too much.” Tease!

     After a few drinks we end up in the bathroom because most of the toys are stashed in there. I give him his sexy Burlesque strip tease (helpful tip: lots of things to strip off, which is hard to do in lingerie, I went with thigh highs, shoes, and a pair of lacy boy shorts over a thong). I actually don't feel all that uncoordinated, and don't lose my balance at all (win!), and think I pull it off quite successfully. We get out some of the toys and once we're both completely worked up, I tear off the blindfold (did I mention I was blindfolded? Not during the dance, but after.) and kneel on the toilet seat, “Spank me!” This is all I want, I throw a look over my shoulder, “Or hit me, whatever you want to call it!”

     “Oh, I'm definitely going to spank you,” (I won the word war!) he proceeds to pick up my hairbrush (!) and sets about spanking me. Now, ever since I have confessed my kink about four years ago, my husband will go along with it, but he's always afraid he's hurting me. So, many times the spankings are shorter than I like, and he's never spanked me with anything but his hand. Well seems my kinky confession has opened a whole new can of worms!

     He's spanking me pretty hard with the hairbrush, I bite back any protests because this is totally what I want, but then it's really burning! I sort of start squirming and shifting around on my knees, the brush clatters to the floor, but he keeps spanking me with his hand. Now I am gripping onto the toilet tank and I am letting out moans and short squeaks of protest. And now it really hurts, but I am liking this, and I want it to stop, but at the same time I don't. Just when I think I might explode and I will have to put a stop to this, he stops.

His hands are on my breasts, he pulls me to my feet, kissing my neck, nuzzling my hair. I'm pretty sure I melted into a puddle. After some unsuccessful attempts in the bathroom, we tumble into the bedroom (I won't bore you with the details, we are constantly trying to find positions that work with our height differences, normally it's just frustrating). I dislodge one of the cats from the bed and toss her into the hall, slamming the door behind her. My ass is stingy, and I feel so in tune with everything my husband is doing. It's amazing, I feel so connected to him on another level. Yay, for awesome sex!

     We're both in the shower rinsing off afterwards. He's telling me he loved his strip tease, I'm telling him how hot the spanking got me and I follow up with, “God, I'm so weird.”

     He looks straight at me, brows raised, “I thought we were past that.” There is no joking tone to his voice (we pretty much communicate with sarcasm and teasing, so the fact that he is dead serious has me knocked off balance). “Knock it off, you're not weird. Stop saying that.”

     I say alright, because what else can I say? He leans in and kisses my forehead and tells me he loves me before hopping out of the shower.

     I am momentarily stunned, standing under the stream of hot water, with my deliciously stinging ass. I am overwhelmed by how much he loves me, how he can embrace my kink even better than I can. It's moments like these that I realize how lucky I am. We might not be perfect, but he gets me, and I love that, and I love him.

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Kinky Confessions- of the Drunken Variety

     

     I promised a follow up to the Burlesque show night, I know you were all waiting with bated breath! Well even if you weren't, here it is. Remember, I was taking in tips and moves at the show, I really wanted to put them into action. But then it was Monday (who feels sexy on a Monday?), long story short- shit day at work, horrible mood, and a horny husband. What to do? Well, my husband got me liquored up (not that I needed much convincing) there was some oral (me), there was some spanking (again, me), there was some more oral (him). Fun was had by all!

     I told him I'd give him a raincheck on the whole Burlesque dancing thing, he didn't seem to care anyway. The crux of the story is now I am tired and sated and dopey with alcohol, and I start with the drunken, cringe-worthy, kinky confessions. Sadly, these are regular occurrences for me (how do you think my husband found out I was a spanko??). I say something to the effect of, “We should get some things that you can spank me with.” This is met with silence, and I immediately start wishing I didn't say anything. My husband is not into spanking. Obviously, I totally am into it. He says he likes to spank me because he likes that it turns me on, but it really does nothing for him. So sometimes I don't know how much I should ask for it, do I want it too much? Is this totally one sided and awful for him? And now I have just added more weirdness to the situation by suggesting we purchase some type of implements.

After the long silence (it probably wasn't that long), he says something to the effect of he likes using his hand. I quickly say, okay, that's fine! Truthfully, I'll take it anyway I can get it. We go to sleep, end of story... or so I thought.

     The next day, we are both at work and I get a text from my husband-

           Hubs: Soo, last night you said you wanted me to hit you with something.

Cringe, and blushing, geez, I'm at work!

          Me- Oh, did that happen?

          Hubs- You know it did. What do you want me to hit you with?

Why does he keep saying he's going to hit me? That has an awful connotation, spank is so much hotter.

We go back and forth a few times, me feigning innocence and acting like I don't remember, him not buying it for a second and then he tells me he'll 'get it out of me someway'. What the hell does that mean? Now my pulse is racing and I am thinking of all the delicious ways he can 'get it out of me', I'm guessing this was his intention.

     Later, at home, we're eating dinner and he's grilling me. I am squirming and blushing and really not wanting to talk about this.

     “Why are you getting so embarrassed?” he asks me.

     “I'm not,” lies, just flying out of my mouth, “I just don't want to talk about it.”

He goes on to tell me I am being ridiculous. Didn't I write a book with spanking in it? Don't I blog about our sex life and spanking? True and true. Then what the hell is my problem?

     “It's weird,” and this is the total honest truth, “I feel like a weirdo.” Yes, I feel like this in the light of day, clear headed and sober.

He is having none of this. He starts questioning me about paddles, and riding crops, and floggers and he seems very well-read on all topics.

     “Were you researching this??”

     “Of course,” he answers, matter-of-factly. Because this is my husband, he researches everything, and I totally love this about him. I will buy things on a whim (it was on sale! I had a coupon! Shiny!), he researches the hell out of everything before making a purchase. It's very handy when shopping for a new coffeemaker, blender, or sex toys. He bought me an array of sex toys (all of which I drunkenly, kinky confessed to wanting to try) for my 30^th birthday last summer. As he was showing me the haul, I got the rundown on the reviews of each item, it was sort of adorable.

     So now he's researching spanking implements, I guess there really shouldn't be any doubt in my mind about my husband's willingness to participate in the whole spanking thing.

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Burlesque- and that Whole Dancing and Coordination Thing

   


    In another attempt to do something fun and exciting (we're still not used to having money left over after paying the bills), my husband took me to see a Burlesque show this weekend. A bar in our area has Burlesque night once a month and we've actually been wanting to check it out for a few years now, Saturday night we finally got to go.

     I had to work on Saturday, so I was trying to mentally go through my closet while I was at work because I knew I had a minimal amount of time to get ready. Also, what the heck does one wear to a Burlesque show? I haven't the slightest clue. Plus I am in serious need of some new wardrobe staples, my day to day attire consists of jeans, a t-shirt, sneakers, and a hoodie. I swear at some point in my life I used to be fashionable, back when I didn't have any bills and I spent my weekends at the mall. The only thing I am sure of by the time I get home from work is that I am wearing jeans (dark wash skinny jeans, I can totally dress them up!) and some flats, because my feet are killing me after standing all day. Now I'm just hoping I can find something cute and stylish hiding in my closet.

     My husband has dinner ready when I get home (because we still can't afford dinner AND a show, we can only do one or the other, let's not get crazy), so we eat, I do my hair and makeup, and then with ten minutes to go I attempt to sift through my closet. I emerge from the bedroom in a white baby doll style tank with black polka dots and a black sweater shrug.

     I ask my husband how I look and his response is “Your boobs look good.” Well, I guess I have that going for me. Then he follows up with, “I've never seen you wear that shirt.” So I run back through my memory trying to remember when I bought this particular shirt, and shit, it was like seven years ago. Now I am questioning whether or not this shirt is still stylish, “Are polka dots still in?” I ask. I get a quizzical look in return, “Were they ever in?” Good question, I don't know, I went through a huge polka dot phase and I am still very partial to them (in fact I had a black and white polka dot bra on under my polka dot shirt- weird but true). I also don't know if shrugs are still in- I mean it's half a sweater, why didn't I just spend my money on a full sweater? Well, whatevs, no time to change, maybe I'll just look ironic, like I meant to look like I bought my clothes almost a decade ago.

     Now that I am having outfit anxiety, we finally leave to go to the show. We get to the bar about an hour before the show, we get some beers, and I settle in to scope out the crowd. I am pleasantly surprised to see other polka dot wearers, apparently they're still in (or back in?), and I feel reassured in my outfit decision. I let my husband know I think I made the right outfit choice (I'm sure he was relieved, he just didn't want to show it).

     The show starts and we snag a little table towards the back. There's two emcees that open the show, there's a live band on stage with them, and then the girls come out in these sparkly little outfits. The guys are singing, the girls are dancing, the band is really good, and I can't believe I almost forgot how much I love a live show (four years of living under a rock will do that to you). I am enthralled from the very beginning, the theater geek that lives inside me is awakened! My husband got serenaded by a large gay man, who sat on his lap in a red, sparkly tux (I almost shot beer out my nose I was laughing so hard). The troupe was really talented, the girls were great dancers, and I totally give them props for getting naked on stage. Although, my husband points out, they are not completely naked, it's Burlesque- not a strip club. But seriously, pasties and a thong is a lot nakeder than I would ever want to be on a stage.

     Sometime during the show my husband leans over to me, “You could totally rock that.” He gestures towards the stage and one of the skimpy outfits the girls have on. I sort of just shrug, as if to say, okay in what lifetime? “No, you would really look hot in that. You could totally do that.” I start taking mental notes of the outfits and the moves, and wait... did he just tell me I could be a burlesque dancer? I tell him he's insane for even thinking that and he responds, “Well, aside from the whole dancing and coordination thing, you could do it.”

     I am probably one of the most uncoordinated people ever, and I can't dance (except when I'm drunk- then I'm awesome!) so this is a proper assessment. I would love to tell you that we went home and got it on, we were just watching a sexually charged show that definitely got us both in the mood. I would really love to tell you that's what happened, if I were writing this in a book then it would happen, but no, it's real life- don't judge me, I worked all day and that last beer took me from nicely buzzed to I can't keep my eyes open. But don't worry, it's to be continued- stay tuned!

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Saturday Spankings- Another Tease!

     Last week I gave you a tease of Luke and Mac from Catch a Falling Star on their first date. This part I am sharing today is a few weeks after that. Their relationship is still new and Luke is having a hard time getting Mac to open up to him. Mac thinks she's doing a good job handling her problems on her own, but she finds that Luke will only be pushed so far. She's been evading his questions about her snappish and moody behavior and she’s reluctant to talk about what’s on her mind. In this selection Mac has just tried to distract Luke in the shower, and she is extremely pissed off that he didn't succumb to her methods.

            Luke reached down and ripped the towel from her body. She yelped out in surprise and he pulled her towards the bed with him, “Luke!” was all she got out before he had her turned over his knee, with her upper body on the bed and her legs kicked out behind her.

            He had already laid down four hard smacks with his hand before she started trying to struggle against his arm around her waist. He stopped with his hand resting on her cheeks, still warm from the shower. “Are you ready to talk?” his tone sounded like they were splitting a muffin over the Sunday crossword.

            “No,” she bit out and unsuccessfully tried to wriggle out of his hold.

            “Have it your way,” he said and started spanking her right where her butt met her thighs. Mac cried out and let fly a string curses that would have made a sailor blush.

           

I hope you'll check out the rest of their story! Thanks for stopping in, and please check out all of the other Saturday Spankings too!

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Getting Back on Track

       I was trying to decide what to post about today and thought maybe you would like to hear about the shenanigans I got up to with my husband over the weekend. A little background about me and my husband, we’ve been married about 3 ½ years, about 2 days after our wedding my husband found out he was getting laid off from his job. We’ve been in quite the financial slump since the beginning of our marriage, it could be extremely stressful at times, but I am happy to say I just feel lucky that he’s the one by my side. We’ve just been trying to hold it all together and still try to have some fun when we can.

      Last month my husband started a new job, we’ve both been adjusting to the new schedule and getting used to having less time together. Add to that an awful cold we’ve been passing back and forth between us and you can imagine that things have not really been all that sexy and spontaneous over here.

That brings us to Friday night, we’re laying on separate couches, watching a DVD (when did we turn into this boring married couple?); the movie comes to a close and I start collecting our ice cream dishes, dropping them off in the sink and switching off lights on my way back. “Ready to head upstairs?” I ask him. “Sure,” he says, but instead of getting up he grabs me by the hips and pulls me down on top of him, he gives me this slanted half smirk and heavy lidded gaze that has been making my panties wet since I met him in high school (does he know what that look does to me?). This is new, normally I am the instigator of any sexual situation (not surprising considering the amount of erotic novels on my e-reader), but it could just be that I don’t give my poor husband the chance to initiate anything because I am always jumping the gun. But now I have instantly gone from sleepy to horny and I am practically panting in anticipation.

      He hooks his thumbs into my pants, pulling my thong and yoga pants down in one deft move; I am gyrating against him, my fingers tugging on his hair as I pull him deeper into a kiss. The next thing I know, he has me pushed down across his lap in prime spanking position, and I start giggling (something I really try not to do, I feel like I shouldn’t be giggling at moments of high sexual tension, it makes me feel a lot less sexy). He starts spanking with his hand, and caressing where he’s just spanked, and now I’m moaning and arching, my arms flailing out. His hand wanders down to my clit and my moans get louder, he’s working a finger in and out of me while he rubs against my clit and I’m digging my nails into the couch cushion. Now he flips me over again so I am laying across his lap face up, this drives me a little higher because I love it when he is all in charge and tossing me around. My stinging cheeks are rubbing against the couch cushion, my legs are stretched out across him and he clamps a hand over my thigh to keep me in place, his other hand comes back down to my clit and at this point I am writhing. He brings me to climax as I scream and twist the back couch cushion in my fist, bringing it down on top of myself.  I lay there for a minute, catching my breathe, my husband smiling down at me. Then I pop up and spring into action, shedding the rest of my clothes, tearing at my husband’s until we are both naked. I sink to my knees in front of him and take is erect cock in my mouth. I’m steadying myself with my hands splayed on his thighs as I work him back and forth in my mouth. I feel doubly satisfied as he comes apart under my ministrations. Now I am very giggly as we clean up and head upstairs for real this time. I love that we’re getting back on track!

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