A Blizzard and a Blur~ Making Things Awkward with the Neighbors

We had a blizzard here on the east coast a few weeks back. Feet of snow. They closed down my day job for the day, which never happens. It convinced me the world was ending. (The world did not end and we had oddly warm days following the blizzard so most of the snow piles are gone.)

Mr. McKay and I took the opportunity of being snowed in together and watched some movies we'd been saving. We had just finished some drinks and were queuing up a second movie when I heard our neighbor out front shoveling the path.

We live in a townhouse so we share a porch and a sidewalk with our next door neighbor. They just moved in this past summer and this was the first snowfall we had to contend with. Earlier in the day, I had cracked the door open to inform him that the landscaping crew normally comes around to dig us out. I didn't want our new neighbor to think we were being lazy or not pulling our weight. Well, we were being a little lazy. I'll stay snowed in until someone else comes to dig me out.

So now it was night, the snow was not letting up and our new neighbor was outside shoveling for at least the fourth time that day.

Fearful that our relationship with our new neighbors would end up like our relationship with our old neighbors (she didn't even make eye contact with us anymore by the time she moved out), I urged Mr. McKay into his winter things and got some beers from the fridge.

"We're helping him shovel?" Mr. McKay asks, eyeing me skeptically.

"No, no. We're going to persuade him to stop." I hold up the beers and wrap my scarf tighter around me.

Our peace offering and thank you gift of one beer on the porch in the blizzard, turned into several. Our neighbor's girlfriend came outside in her pajamas and drank a bottle of wine. We stood outside, in the falling snow, draining beers and chucking them into the snow mound beside us.

Remember, we had been drinking before we even went outside... things devolved quickly. We ended up inside our neighbors' house (which satisfied so much curiosity in me as I have been trying to figure out the layout of their house since day one). We talked, we drank, we played a board game (?). I took it as our cue to leave when, at least two bottles of wine in, the female half of our new neighbor couple laid down in the middle of the kitchen. "At least she hasn't taken her pants off yet," her boyfriend helpfully supplied.

That last comment made me feel like I found a kindred spirit. Sometimes you just have to get drunk and take your pants off. It happens.

We stumbled back home and only then realized how drunk we were.

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, I woke up feeling sick. Cursing myself for getting a hangover, I bolted to the bathroom only to meet Mr. McKay in the hallway who staggered into the wall. "I think I'm still drunk," he commented as I whizzed past him in just enough time to retch into the toilet.

Later in the day, once the incessant pounding in my head stopped, we assessed our night. "You invited them to our St. Patrick's Day party," Mr. McKay informed me.

I nod, remembering that bit of the evening. Also, I get super friendly when I am drinking and invite people to hang out with us all the time. So if we ever meet in a bar, buy me a drink, you can come party at our place!

The night is a blur, we pieced most of our conversations back together. But it turns out, aside from being around the same age, we have almost nothing in common. There was a conversation where female neighbor was bemoaning the fact that everyone in the world seems to be pressuring them to get married. I piled on with how everyone in the world seems to think it is vitally important for me to produce offspring right at this very second. I guess societal pressures like that are pretty universal and they make everyone who is feeling pressured completely miserable. We bonded over that and had ourselves another drink.

"She was laying on the floor when we left."

"Yeah, she was way drunker than you," Mr. McKay concedes.

"Win!" I throw my hands up in the air. I am always the drunkest person at the party, mini victories.

"You tried to recruit her to your roller derby team."

"I try to recruit everyone to my roller derby team." It's true. Derby gives me life and I can't understand why every person in the world is not playing it! She probably just thinks I was recruiting her to join some kind of cult with the way I was going on and on.

Something flits through the fuzziness of my memories and I grab my phone to confirm. "We traded phone numbers," I say, scrolling through the drunk texts from the night before.

I think my exact words to her were, "You know, if you ever need anyone to get a package from your porch, or to tell you when your house catches on fire." True story, one of my number one fears is my house burning down with my cats still inside—there is a morbid person hidden under this ray of sunshine.

I don't think we will ever be close friends with them. Our interactions have gotten supremely more awkward. I told Mr. McKay that it feels like we had a one night stand with the neighbors. Like when you would get drunk in college and make out with your friend's boyfriend's roommate and then you didn't know how to act casual when you saw him in the cafeteria the next day. No? Just me then. But you get the picture.

Our crowning achievement from the night of the drunk blizzard?

Mr. McKay pointed out, "Hey, as drunk as we were we didn't tell them that you write smut, or that we publish it."

Win! Maybe we came off more normal than we actually are.

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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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A to Z Challenge~ Pulp Covers

Welcome back to the Spanking from A-Z blog challenge, hosted by Celeste Jones and Spanking Romance Reviews.

Today is the letter P! (I'm starting to feel a little bit like Sesame Street, anyone else?)

I'm taking a bit of an easy way out today and not writing much, but I am sharing some interesting pulp covers. I have no idea if you can buy these actual books anywhere, but I do love the covers!

A little light bondage?

It was that kind of party, was it?

This one's adult tagged already...

A grown up joke book?

Spoiler alert! They tell you she dies right on the cover.

I love the cover art for pulp fiction novels. And for any of you who indulge in some erotic little guilty pleasures on your e-readers, don't be ashamed! People have been reading this stuff for years!

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Smut for Good- A Curvy Pin Up

Welcome to the Smut for Good- Curves Rule Blog Hop!

I heard about this blog hop through facebook. It's celebrating smut and curvy women and also raising money for Parkinson's Disease. 

Please be sure to click above for the main link and check out all the other blogs participating. There are ways you can donate and you have chances to win prizes!

I am giving away a copy of any of my books to one lucky commenter, so stick around and then leave me some love :)

We were asked to post something about curvy women, and while I mention in most of my books that my heroine has curves (it is spanking romance- there needs to be something to grab onto and spank!) I don't actually spend too much time talking about body type.

So instead, I am sharing with you a blog post I read recently about America's Forgotten Pin Up Girl (click to read the original post).

I have an unhealthy obsession appreciation of pin up girls and just the pin up style in general. They tend to be of the curvier sort. Big boobs, curvy hips, but yes, often times, tiny waists. A look that is hard for most to achieve without some sort of form fitting undergarment. Or really trying to trick the eye with say a belted dress that flares out at the bottom.

But upon reading this blog post over at Messy Nessy Chic I was enlightened to find a pin up girl named Hilda, a creation of illustrator Duane Bryers, who graced the pages of calendars for over four decades.

In all of her pictures Hilda seems carefree and confident in her body. I think the confidence is what brings the sexiness.

She seems a little goofy, but carefree and fun.

And what isn't sexy about that?

Smut for Good: Curves Rule is a blog hop with prizes galore to raise funds for Parkinson’s UK as this is Parkinson’s Awareness week. To find more curves, and seek out further prizes please visit http://smutters.co.uk/smut-for-good and if you can take a minute to please visit the Smut for Good: Curves Rule Just Giving Page at http://www.justgiving.com/curvesrule and donate whatever you can to help us reach our target of £100 to raise awareness of Parkinson’s and to support the charity Parkinson’s UK http://www.parkinsons.org.uk/ who help those with the disease learn to cope with the challenges, give out information and search for a cure.

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