Fucking at the Side of the 401

What would you do if your partner sitting in the passenger seat was to reveal this?

This happened to me on a drive from Belleville Ontario to Waterloo, Ontario. My partner happened to pull my hand to her and I felt the clasp of her garter belt and the smooth nylon of her stockings. I looked at her and she looked at me and she teased be more by opening up her legs and hiking her skirt higher revealing that she was not wearing panties. Her hand reached to my tented pants and she began to massage me slowly while whispering that she could not wait to get home to have me.

I pulled over as far as possible under an overpass and we stripped off enough of my clothes so we could fuck. We fucked in the front seat of our Chevrolet Impala (nice big seats!) and after I came she stated we better move on because it was dangerous to be parked where we where parked.

She was right, of course.

It was still well worth it.

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Meandering About Inside My Mind

I have been reading some blogs on my blog list lately and been fascinated with the frankness of them. In some ways, though I have blogged about my experiences here, sharing my experiences and insights is a little intimidating because though I am only 47 I did grow up in a family where discussions about sex and sexuality did not occur. My acculturation to being more open and honest about my sexuality and my needs grew out of being married to S and then subsequent events after my 2nd marriage.

One of these singular moments I want to share. For me and I hope for others they have the chance, if not the honour, to interact with someone like I did in the following situation.

My second marriage imploded on me and I was in want, no need, of physical sexual companionship. I was faithful to my 2nd partner but our sex life had dried up to the point that some of my memories of what happened during the latter phases of my marriage still rend wounds open in my psyche. Oh, I am definitely functional as a human bean but writing this brings back one memory that crystallizes the pain and loneliness I experienced during the last 4 years of that marriage.

The last time I made love to my wife was on my birthday in 1998. We had organized a night alone without the kids and had reserved a nice table at a higher end restaurant to enjoy a "romantic" meal together. The conversation and motions of that segment of the evening were normal enough but when it came time to slip into bed and make love things got strange. My partner was definitely detached mentally from me and as I began to make love to her she began to cry. I had no idea why this was happening until much later but she was experiencing guilt because she did not love me anymore. It was very upsetting and she was never honest with me as to the reasons this happened. After that we never had sexual relations again.

Snap forward to 2001 and my marriage had ended. I had continued to be faithful to my marriage though some limited situations did arise that would have tempted Job. When we parted my need to be faithful disappeared especially given the circumstances of her betrayal towards me. I did the internet thingy and on Lavalive where I have been a member for almost too long now (lol) I began searching for a dominant woman. My conception of my needs at that time were predicated on an interest in BDSM and D/s and my self confidence sexually was at a place where I thought I would be a good submissive. It was almost as if I needed to be punished for the failure of my marriage.

As luck would have it I began a short 3 month long distance relationship with a Domme in Montreal. We emailed and chatted for sometime before we talked on the phone. She was courteous, respectful, and empathic towards me. In male terms - a gentlemen. Over time she tasked me with online research and would send me information to read and respond to her and eventually I grew to enjoy her attention and the intellectual challenges she offered. These challenges did not only reside in the world of D/s but spanned other subjects and her intellect and approach towards me only solidified my interest in her.

Eventually we talked of meeting and as we began the process of organizing this I received an email from her. It was long. On the printed page it spanned 4 pages and was a thorough analysis of what she had divined from our chats, emails, and conversations and her conclusion stunned me.

She proposed I was DOMINANT instead of submissive.

Her conclusion took be aback. I did not know at first how to respond and she had specified not replying or contacting her for 48 hours to give me time to think about her words. I reread her analysis over and over again and slept on it and realized she was right. My nascent interest in being submissive was actually a vehicle on discovering whether I was submissive or dominant. Her points rang so true it was as if she had known me for years.

We talked at length after her proscribed quiet period and our conversations verified in my mind her conclusion. She and I maintained an online relationship for several months after that where in she acted as a mentor for me and she helped me shape my conception of this new found expression of my sexuality. I am forever in her debt for that.

Life is full of challenges and missteps and there are times we are blessed with people that enter our lives momentarily and give us more than we may realize at first. She was one of those people.

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Ginny

Ginny

To give my feelings for you
Words
Words like Passion, Trust, Love
Truly does my feelings injustice


The words have not been discovered


And never will be


A voyage of discovery
Two entities,
Two pasts,
Two presents,
Two futures


Like Magellan or Curie
The unknown
Fear and Joy of Discovery
Stronger for the passage of experiences
Saddened by loss or the chance of loss


A point of definition
Yet to be uncovered

Where will this lead
How will it end
Will it end
Will this be worth it?


Shielding the light from sight
Is there that much difference
I don't want to hurt you
I love you


Doing what is necessary
My life with or without
Shadows of deeper emotions
Creeping towards me
Ill defined


Must I wait
Will I wait


One path trodden upon by many
Another
With few deep tangible footprints


Which one will I take?

I found this poem a day ago while getting my house ready to sell. Going through my rather cluttered office I have several file boxes with some old (read grade school) school assignments and other mementos from the pasts. I happened on this poem for Ginny.

She was a lover of mine some time ago and was 13 years my senior. Our romance was short lived but deeply passionate. We spent a lot of time together over 2 years. Boating, skiing, sailing, day tripping, antiquing, socializing, loving and living. I was in love with her but she she was not with me. I never declared my love for her - the only time in my life I was in love with someone and did not declare it.

This was the one unspoken word between us. I felt though we never talked about it that I was a type of therapy for her. I was that man that validated her emotions, sexuality, and femininity after a bad relationship she had before we got together. I was attentive, gallant, romantic, interested and aroused by her. I was consistent in my passion for her. Not just her body but her soul and she needed that.

What she did not need was me permanently.

She only spoke of it once. The last night we spent together. It was the only time we slept together but apart. She said the words just as I was drifting off, "You're going to want children someday, Eric." She was 41 and did not want children. I was 28 and had not thought about it. In our context I knew that children would never be but at my age the possibility of anything was the only thing in my mind. When I turned 41 I thought about her words and I understood.

I have children now. Ginny was right. Not completely right. I would have forsaken children for her. Funny to love someone so much and be willing to give up something as sacred as children but never say "I love you."

I wrote this poem shortly after we separated and never did give it to her. But I kept the poem in my files for 17 years. I cannot remember the last time I looked at it and read it though I know I have acknowledged the existence of the poem in my mind I have not read it until tonight as I was transcribing it for this entry. What a strange feeling.

In many ways it was a relationship of convenience and though she kept me emotionally far enough away not to allow me the obligation of telling her I loved her while at the same time never declaring that to me either, I think we both knew this in our sub-conscious.

I hold my memory of her dear to me and the one picture of us together I will keep forever.

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Sex on a Boat

I highly recommend it!

I was at a party a couple of days ago and being that I am probably the 2nd oldest staff member at work and definitely am the oldest in my department I tend to have a lot of stories. I am thankful I have a lot of stories. I have done some pretty cool shit in my day. And some uncool shit too that I am not particularly proud of. So I do tend to have a story related to the general shift of the conversation from time-to-time and one of my co-workers commented after one of my Mayday stories (incidents involving emergencies on the water) that I had done everything. Well, not everything but a lot compared to some. And not a lot compared to others.

Sex on a boat...where was I?

Oh, recommended. The elements of water, sun, sand and the fact that being on a boat in the summer lends you and your partner to dress minimalistic-ally are all elements that can lead to sex on a boat. Of course, you need a boat or some form of flotation device that will stand the stress and rigours of furious fucking. I would not recommend a canoe for that but gentle love-making would be the ticket there unless you are on dry ground.

I will have to admit to some aspect of romantic deviousness here. Taking a date to my boat was in some ways a test. First, if they did not like boating we were probably not going to be very compatible since I used to spend almost every weekend up north at it. Second, the boat was a perfect place to be alone. There is little to disturb you (until recently there was no cellular coverage in the area I boated and now it is still spotty). One could converse. Not talk but converse about things that mattered and somehow being on the water seems to relax people and let their personalities shine through. Three, and this is the "devious" part, if there was anytime in my romantic life I wanted to attempt a seduction it was on my boat. I certainly did not force myself on my romantic partner (unless they wanted me to) but given that boating would take an entire day the prerequisites for a seduction were apt to come to the fore while out on the water.

Sprinkle in some good food and wine and you have the makings of a seduction.

Problem is seducing a person on a boat can be downright dangerous!

Not that I ever was distracted while piloting my boat by being given oral sex as I take safety as a primary responsibility as the Master of the boat and the host but once anchored in some distant remote cove the gloves came off, as it were.

One trip with K we puttered around the area of Georgian Bay I know pretty well but one of the things that was frustrating is that we did not have the time to go farther north to get away from the other weekend boaters in the area. We were looking for a bay with a modicum of privacy and it was becoming difficult to do but eventually we found a bay that had no boats in it. I was to find out why.

See, when you anchor a boat you need to have a bottom conducive for the anchor to bite into and hold the anchor against the stress induced by the wind and the waves. We did anchor and as a precaution a good captain takes a sighting of two landmarks and mentally marks his position in relation to those landmarks. If the landmarks move you are moving and you need to reset the anchor or find another anchorage.

Be that as it may the expectation of some ramrod rough sex with K (and it was her expectation to) led to some poor judgment on my part. We anchored. I took my sighting and then slipped into the cabin for some well deserved mutual pleasure. Well, without getting into the gory details when I eventually came up for air (literally - K loved oral sex) I decided to slip on my swimsuit and check my sighting.

Oh blast. We had moved over 150 yards from our original position and there were rocks abaft our beam about 10 yards a way.

Not good. Poor K is wondering why I am scampering forward to start the engine and raise the anchor pronto and I hear her plaintive cry, "Come back here Eric. PLEASE?" as I move about wondering if anyone can see my nautical and physical predicament. Avast me hearties all turned out well. Boat saved. Sex resumed and everyone happy and satiated.

Turns out that there were several elements against our wonderful plan. The wind was high. The waves were too. And our rythmic motions in the cabin was helping to unseat the anchor on a bottom that was not conducive to anchoring a boat. So that is why no one was in the cove. The anchorage sucked.

But any good sailor must be able to adjust and adapt to their environment.

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The colour and style of these stockings are exactly like the first pair I bought for S. Such sweet memories.

Incanto Lingerie

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Helicopters

I was an aircraft maintenance engineer for 10 years working on fixed wing aircraft and I had a bias against helicopters based on ignorance. To me they were a thousand cases of metal fatigue surrounding an oil leack.

A helicopter flight school opened at our airport and the instructor asked me if I wanted to go for a ride in his Bell 47 like the ones in MASH. Being a wee bit curious I said yes and it was an amazing experience. The take-off and transition to flight is almost instantaneous. Instead of a long take-off roll of a fixed wing aircraft the helicopter rose about 10 feet of the ground and then he transitioned to forward flight while climbing. Sitting in the big bubble canopy of the Bell 47 made for an interesting sensation to be sure. I was hooked!

Later on, when I went to college for aircraft maintenance I made friends with a fellow student who had his commercial helicopter pilots license. As he used to say: "Fixed wing aircraft are for people that are afraid to fly."

I don't totally agree with him but helicopters are cool.

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What We Trade

It was funny

Hearing from you

That fateful day for many

A year before we stood

Where so many were to perish

And you call me

In tears

Because we were there

It could have been us

One year later on

Stunned was I

Wishing that your conviction for my safety

Was consistent

Not lost, ravaged, rip'd

Battered, bleeding

Apparently gone

Until the Towers fell

This poem is about a phone call I got from my former wife during September 11, 2001 at approixmately 10:00 AM. A year before on September 13, 2000 she and I were on top of one of the Towers at approximately 10:00 and had arrived one hour previous to that time to get tickets to go up the one of the Towers.

In addition I was scheduled to go to a finance course in New York City which spanned the day of the attacks and conceivably could have been at the restaurant at the Top of the World for breakfast on September 11, 2001.

She knew I could have been in NYC that week. I had canceled that course to take a similar course in Las Vegas one month hence.

There was something touching in her calling me. The cell phone lines were jammed where I lived in Canada. The Internet was down and yet she took time from her day to call me over a land-line and wonder if I was OK and to recognize that fate could have dealt us a blow if the attack occurred one year earlier.

But what was strange about it and other worldly about her call is she never in the 3 years prior to our split up in December 2001 told me she loved me. No once.

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Memories

A friend of mine of Facebook posed the following quesion:

FACEBOOK EXPERIMENT- if you are reading this, whether we do or don't speak often, please post a comment of the first memory you have of you and me that pops in your head

I answered her and the memory is not all that important here but the question corkscrewed through my mind and I had the strongest memory of meeting Marlene for the first time. I cannot remember every detail and I hate when people use the cliche that they actually do remember EVERY detail but I will share with you that the memory of that first meeting is like a carbon paper copy of a document typed on a typewriter. The impressions and boldness of the letters do not match that of the original but some things are damn close.

The first thing that came to my memory was Marlene's hair. It is was the finest hair I had ever seen. I would have to say that if one thought of corn silk then that would begin to describe how fine it was. It is something that made an impression on me and I can still feel and smell her hair after the first time we embraced and her hair touched my face like a soft feather pillow.

The next thing I remember was the wine we drank at dinner. We had a Western New York Chardonnay and the hotel we ate at had a dismal cellar. Really no cellar at all and if they had offered corkage I would have brought a more robust and interesting wine from Marynessin or a Pilliteri white to share with you. The wine we did have was flat. Almost shale in taste. Luckily our conversation was not affected by the wine or the meal.

I remember more things than this but the last I will share is I remember how little you felt in my arms. I was only 4 inches taller but you were so slight and light I felt like I was going to crush you. Diminutive. Our hug felt wonderful and sadly sublime since it signaled our leaving from each other.

Such a small person - such a big heart.

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Too Funny

I have written in the past about my lingerie buying forays for and with my partners. Well this week my mom was at a surprise birthday party of a friend's and this weekend I was home for a spot of dinner and conversation.

Mom:  Yes the party was great and several people were asking after you.

Me:  Like who mom?

Mom:  Well X, Y's mother from your high school and D who is F's mother from Cubs.

(How do women remember these connections?)

Me:  That's nice. [Insert general comments and observations from above.]

Mom:  Oh and Rosiland.

Me:  Looking quizzical.

Mom:  You know, from Rosiland's Lingerie. [It is not called that now that Rosiland sold it to her staff.]

Me:  Oh?

Mom:  Yes. She commented on how you used to come in all the time and that you were one of her favourite customers. She remembers you buying a lot of lingerie.

Me:  Beet red.

Mom:  Oh yes, and that time she dressed up as a maid for you.

Me:  [Oh MY GOD! I had completely forgotten about THAT!]

Me:  That's nice.

Mom:  Looks at me with a hint of concern and suspicion.

See, the maid thing is true. In fact I concocted the idea to present my partner with a special gift on her birthday. I had made reservations at a restaurant just down from Rosiland's store that was a favourite of ours. In fact, we had a special table that we were always given by the owners as we were such great customers. This was the penultimate table in the whole restaurant and highly prized because it was the only window table in a restaurant that was very thin in its width as its width only allowed one row of table.

The evening before my partner's birthday I went and bought a lovely nightgown set for her birthday. In Rosiland's terms it was a 50/50 gift. Part of it was for my woman and part of it was for me. It was a very expensive gift and Rosalind inquired as to when my partner's birthday was, in part to update her records.

[Take a tip here lingerie store owners - Get the birthdays of all your clients and the contact information of their significant others and then call the SO 2 weeks before the birthday and have them come in and buy something. Rosalind was great at marketing.]

Rosalind smiled and suggested a special way of presenting the gift. Since her store would be just closing as we were being served dessert she offered to deliver the gift specially wrapped to my partner at the restaurant.

I agreed knowing little of Rosalind's real plan. I was facing the direction from which Rosalind would come from and as the time neared I was hoping the timing would mesh as there was no way for her to know exactly when our dessert would be served. Plus my partner was wondering if all she was getting was this dinner. No gift from me...so far.

Then I see her. Rosalind in a black silk maid's dress, with black seamed stockings and heels. It was not one of those off-the-rack uniforms from some stag shop. It was, as far as I could tell, a real maids uniform with the accentuation of classic 3 inch pumps and stockings. Rosalind walks in, the customers' mouths gape open (the restaurant was full) and she curtsies at our table and says, "A package for you Ma'am." Hands the package to my partner and curtsies again and leaves.

I am now laughing my ass off. My partner is stunned. The patrons are quizzical and confused and Rosalind made my present very memorable for me and my partner. Bless her wonderful heart!

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The Art of Tease

We all do it. We hopefully all subject to it. What makes good tease? That subtle gesture, that look in their eyes or the overt actions or dress of your partner? I love subtlety. The nuances of subtle teasing bespeaks your partner's knowledge of you and what turns you on. If you ever want to uber-power your romantic or sexual life be good at teasing. Subtle teasing is an art that comes from you or your partner's knowledge and empathy of the person being teased. It can be a look or a gesture, perhaps a special fragrance.

Want to get me going? Vanilla scented candles work wonders for me. Sure this is not a direct physical act of teasing but it is something I have come to associate with foreplay or the aspect of fore-foreplay that can lead to a wonderful encounter. Please, not heavily scented cheap vanilla candles but soft light hint at vanilla will turn my crank anytime.

Words are good. Suggestive words and even delightfully explicit phrases timed right can be an act of tease. I once had my partner say to me as we were entering a church for a friend's wedding whisper close to my ear letting her lips touch that erogenous zone so lightly as to send shivers down my spine this, "I am all yours tonight." A soft squeeze of my hand and we entered the church. Believe you me my mind was not on the vows or the ceremony nor the dinner and the dance. My mind was on what was going to happen AFTER the wedding. She even had instituted a remote detachment from me as well keeping our touches wonderfully chaste and innocent expect for a slow dance later that night where she nestled her hips into me as we danced together and added, "Soon lover, soon."

Thank heavens we had a room at that hotel where the wedding was at!

Romance, passion, sexual desire is something to be cherished and developed. It keeps the romance alive, fresh, interesting and if done well exhilarating and more than satisfying. Want to get past the honeymoon period of any relationship? Then learn how to tease and be teased.

Actually is should be: I will tease the boys/girls.

I call this overt teasing. We like this.

Subtle teasing using fragrance strategically placed and, at least for me, the use of a choker which is reminiscent of one of the aspects of my sexual awakening (thank you From Russia with Love) and something symbolic between two people.

Not looking at your partner can be a form of tease.

Sitting as a form of tease.

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Fetish Friday: Stockings Over Pantyhose

 

 

I have always been partial to stockings over pantyhose. I believe I have written about this before but it is worth mentioning again. Ironic that 2 of the stocking fetishist/people I follow online had their sites come up very early in a Google search. Try it out and report who you think they are.

Introducing this idea to a lover is actually pretty easy. If you consider how I do it you might see the possibilities of it being accepted by your partner. It is related to one of the most sensual activities I have enjoyed:  The dressing or undressing of a partner.

Now, you all may have had the pleasure of doing this and if you have not you should really, really consider it. The more conventional scenario is helping your partner dress for a night out to a dinner or party. Something about helping to zip up or down a woman's dress has always rocked my boat but go a bit further than that. Offer to lay out what you wish your partner to wear. And there is a VERY important step that you must do first. Be completely dressed. Why? Well it might just allow you to complete the dressing without any obvious activities that may sidetrack you and make you late for that important business dinner function but I think it makes it more erotic for both people.

Lay out their clothes as they shower or bathe. Lay them out neatly and in order of dressing. Help towel off your partner and let them take their time preparing to be ready to dress. Put on some of their favourite music and light some candles for them if they are so inclined for candlelight. Being that my lover was female this is a no brainer. Pour them a glass of wine. If so inclined watch them prepare. There is nothing so sexy as watching your lover attend to makeup and hair whilst talking to her. Remember that her efforts are not just for herself but for you. If she requires privacy respect that too but I have many pleasant memories chatting with my partner as she dressed.

When she is ready to dress I suggest having a comfortable chair set out, preferably with a cloth covering as leather is cold and inhospitable. Have her sit and slowly and deliberately add each garment to her body. I would suggest light sensual touching is OK but kissing is a no, no. At least for me because once I kiss that ankle I want to kiss the calf and move ever higher. But it is up to you and your ability to tempt temptation!

Don't recharge her glass of wine to aggressively. Remember you are going out soon! Keep that glass available but moderate the temptation to recharge her wine. Plus too much alcohol is not generally a good thing.

Once you have dressed her admire her and compliment her and head out for your night out.

Some caveats:

Your partner should always have the right of first refusal on your selection. Maybe those 5 inch stiletto heels are great "fuck me shoes" but they might not go all that well with her new DKNY dress.

That basque corset you chose may not be all that comfortable to wear for the next 4 hours.

Panties may be optional but that is generally her decision!

A variation of this idea is to make it part of your sexual play repertoire. Two basic scenarios apply her. Dressing and undressing. If the night is not one on the town but indoors, the kids are in bed or at the grandparents and we have 12 hours of whoopie then one can vary the dressing and undressing scenario as one sees fit.

I won't go into detail here because dear readers I figure most of you can suss that out for yourselves.

Going back to stockings over pantyhose (there was a main point to this post wasn't there?) I used this idea with great success with my lover. A small variation was I did not have the stockings visible and my partner knew I preferred stockings to pantyhose and she surely wondered why a white pair of pantyhose was being slid over her legs but then I unwrapped a nice pair of black seamed stockings and slid them on. Some physical and sensual inducements during the dressing surely helped here.

BTW:  touching, kissing, licking et al ARE allowed in this situation!

You certainly have your choice of colour combinations but I prefer strong contrasting colours. And you could do the reverse as well - pantyhose over stockings.

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Happy Birthday Submissive ann

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Strippers

Strippers...

I was over at Vintage Stockings Archive and banging around in the Strippers section when happenstance lead me to this image and it brought back some memories.

The first time I saw a strip show was during the summer of my 16th year. I was young and bold and there was a strip club in Breslau, Ontario called the Hawk's Nest. It was in the basement of a diner club establishment that was known for it smorgasbord and probably did better business pandering to the needs of lonely men and the odd brave teenager. I looked older than the then legal drinking age of 18 in Ontario to get into some of the local bars that had staff that looked the other way and as long as you did not get stupid or do something blatantly uncool one could partake in a tasty beverage without fear of legal retribution.

The Hawk's Nest got its name after Ronnie Hawkins. I have no idea how the bar got the name and sadly a quick bit of research on the internetwebbie does not seem to offer an confirmation of the existence of this bar but it did exist and I did go and see strippers in it.

Not having any recollection of my first visit and my impressions of this event I can only surmise that in my nervousness of going there my brain shut down and selectively truncated my memories of that moment but I do remember the dancing. In most cases each set from each dancer involved four songs. The first song involved the stripper parading around in some form of lingerie or costume and doing a rather mechanical show of her body and its various and sundry parts. The second song involved a quick strip down to panties only followed by the third song leading to the complete removal of the stripper's clothing. The "climax" as it were was the "fur rug dance" where in the stripper would mimic sexual intercourse using the rug and smoothly transition from position to position in her repertoire of oft mimicked positions. Seriously it was that predictable.

Then, and not often, there was a gem of a dancer. A REAL dancer that combined fluid motion with sensual teasing and was devoid of those robotic and mechanistic motions of the other dancers. She would sing with her body and eyes to tempt and engage and may I say in come cases engorge her audience. Sadly such performers were rare and wholly and heartedly appreciated.

Certainly I am not condoning going at my age but I would be a liar if I did not admit to liking the rough and ready camaraderie of going there with my friends. Eventually my core group of high school buddies got up the nerve to go and it was not at all uncommon for us to go 2 times a month to the 'rippers' as we called them. It was not until later that I heard the usage of the term 'ballet' as a code word for going to a strip club.

The image above has the tone and sense of that time. Pity to think that some photo from the late 70s is vintage and if it is then I must be vintage too.

It was a time of curiosity and testing our limits and rebelling against the conceptions of our parents. The most likely conversation at each boy's home later that night was something like this:

Q:  "How was you time with your friends?"

A:  "OK. Hung out at McDonalds all night. 'Night mom and dad."

If only they knew!

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Cathie

You have been on my mind. This song is how I feel.

A Long December - Counting Crows

A long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving
Oh the days go by so fast

And it's one more day up in the canyons
And it's one more night in Hollywood
If you think that I could be forgiven
I wish you would
(Na na na, etc. yeah)

The smell of hospitals in winter
And the feeling that it's all a lot of oysters, but no pearls
All at once you look across a crowded room
To see the way that light attaches to a girl

And it's one more day up in the canyons
And it's one more night in Hollywood
If you think you might come to California
I think you should
(Na na na, etc. yeah)

Drove up to Hillside Manor sometime after 2 a.m.
And talked a little while about the year
I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower
Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her

And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass

And it's one more day up in the canyon
And it's one more night in Hollywood
It's been so long since I've seen the ocean
I guess I should
(Na na na, etc. yeah)

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Nine Years is a Long Time

I saw her for the first time in years. She was one of those female friends of mine that I felt a definite connection to. You know the type: God DAMN! if I was not married and she was not as well we could be something together. She was (and still is) beautiful. An soft lightness of physical and spiritual beauty that emanates from her being transcending her pain because she loves others so much better than she loves herself.. Sometimes as soft as light rain water and at other times a torrent of energy. But always with a sadness and a shadow of unspoken pain. An alcoholic for a husband. I suspect a man that did not touch her.

Her energy would pulse forward and out in her passion for skiing and entertaining. A sweet melodious voice that gripped your heart and rends it into shards of sadness for the entrapped diamond clear potential trapped in a loveless marriage.

Loyal to her son to the point of probably making her broken it is not until he is well a man she decides to leave her husband.

And we meet. Not quite by chance as she was doing some shopping were I work. I looked up and recognized her instantly. World worn was her face. A shock to me. I wave and call her name instantly making her start and she smiles that smile. She has these thin lips which tasted so good that stride outwards to the corner of her face as she smiles and those blue eyes light up in recognition of me. I ask her to come back and say hi.

She must of waited 20 minutes for me to get away. She is as petite as the last time I saw her. I approach half in fear because because her face has aged so. Somehow it is riven with lines of worry and hurt - not the lines of wide smiles and too much sun and laughter. We approach and as smooth as if we hugged all the time her lightness fills my arms. She feels like she did the last time I hugged her more than 3 years before the last time I saw her.

The hug is just right. Not too tight. Not too short. Not to long. Not too loose.

We talk because conversation cannot be had. It is not private enough but more than that I think she feels something the same as me. The unspoken void of a night of kisses shared semi-sinfully in the water of a cool lake and then in her car outside my place. She pulled me in then on her terms. Momentary. Fleeting. Painfully short and the creation of unrequited love in me. As quickly as she let me in she closed the portal of possibility for greater but more challenging and painful commitments that she had to hold to her.

I understood why and I hated myself and her for it.

But she is here. We trade pleasantries and I offer my phone number and she asks for my email address. I give it to her and we hug again and I dare not even attempt to smell her scent. Nothing is probably going to happen.

I hope she is on the right road now. She is leaving him. She is rebuilding and I know in my heart she has the strength of Samson and I pray she will find the peace that has eluded her for so long.

I love you C. As a friend. Godspeed.

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Maid Uniforms

Maid uniforms are very sexy. I have had the pleasure of role playing with a partner who wore a maid's uniform for me (and her).

"Sir, is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yes!"

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Fetish Friday: Boots

I love boots. Sadly in the summer the rate of sightings of such footwear drop sharply and one has to put up with tanned legs in heels. Personally I prefer mid-calf boots similar to the image above but believe you me any height is great.

The heels are great for gripping during sex and the masochistic side of me love the feel of her heels digging into my calves when a woman is on top of me.

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Visual Incantation

Funny how an image can bring memory to the forefron of one's mind. Library Vixen's image did just that...

Killington

I had the distinct honour of being involved with Ginny for 2 years. She was 13 years my senior yet she looked and had the body of a 26 year old.

I had the distinct moment of realizing her just exactly her age when, after several months of building up my courage I asked her out one evening at our local ski club. She smiled brightly and said, “Thanks for the GREATEST birthday present!” I asked her why as I, in fact, did not know it was her birthday and being such I did not have a present. So I was naturally curious as to what she meant. I expressed such convincing disbelief that she offered her driver’s license to me and it WAS true. She was that very day now 40 years old. I was amazed and she thanked me again for making her day.

Nothing, sadly, came of that offer for a date but fast forward to the next ski season and we met again at the ski club and over that Christmas we went skiing in Holiday Valley and began a slow but steadily building emotional and physical relationship. Ginny was an amazing person to know. She was youthful in spirit and incandescent in her optimism and love for her family and friends. I enjoyed being with her and soon every weekend was spent together skiing up north or at the club. My family had a condo in Collingwood and we would blast up there on a Friday night, make a wonderful meal, sip some wine, make love and then hit the hills first thing in the morning. Sometimes we made it up there so early we skied that evening to closing and then Saturday and Sunday. The weekends were a blissful celebration of physicality. Both in sharing a deep passion for skiing and for each other.

Ginny introduced me to Australian wines and jazz and I have to admit that I am not sure what I brought to her. I was an attentive lover and friend and at that stage in her life maybe she needed the assurance of youthful desire from a male. I know that she was sometimes conscious of the age difference but it did not play into our relationship in a negative way.

For all her spirit Ginny was a conventional lover. Competently courteous and diligent and she loved making love but I have to admit from my perspective I always felt she was holding back. I tended to be the initiator and accepted my role more than willingly. Having said this we both shared more than just the sexual sharing of a couple. We enjoyed each other’s company greatly. We talked, cuddled and connected on more levels than the bedroom.

As the skiing season came to the end in Ontario we both felt the need for speed. Ginny and I were both drawn to getting some hill time and the weather in Ontario made for a short ski season that year. Putting our heads together, and this was before the Internet, and our sources about ski conditions we determined there was some decent skiing to be had at Killington, Vermont. A plan was made and we both kludged together time off for a long weekend as no provincial or federal holidays were present in the near future to take advantage of making for a long weekend by fiat.

We planned and packed the accoutrements of skiers. Clothes, crackers, cheese, wine, some pate and other sensual and gastronomic delights and headed of early in the evening of a Thursday. We drove late into the night and stopped near the New York – Vermont border and then rose early and drove to Killington. I think people thought we were crazy when we stopped for breakfast because we had our skiing clothes on and there was not a stitch of snow on the ground at all. This was a bit worrisome for us but as we drove closer to the hill we saw the white cap of the tallest peak and we knew there would be skiing to be had. Spring skiing for sure but skiing!

After a great day skiing we went to our hotel to get our room and had a wonderful evenings meal and fell exhausted into bed.

The next day was early and full and we skied hard to around 3 and decided to pack it in early and relax at the hotel. Ginny was the embodiment of water baby – someone that loved water in all forms and the hotel had a hot tub on a deck and we decided to take advantage of it. We snuck some wine down to the deck and being that for all intents and purposes the ski season was over there was no one there. We effectively had the hotel and its facilities.

I guess I should have known about Ginny and hot tubs but up until that point I had never been in one with her. She was wearing a string bikini and she was much more amorous and forward than normal. She sidled into the crux of my arm and before I knew it she was gently caressing me. I was glad for the bubbling water for it hid her motions and my apt physical reaction. I was so pleased by her attention and she took a moment and disengaged from me and made a swift motion and slid back beside me. Pulling my free hand to her she slid it down revealing that she had no bikini bottom on.

What to do? Thing was that the hotel was NOT totally ours. The hot tub was below the dining room and I could see patrons ordering drinks and meals. I figured this was Ginny making for an extended act of foreplay and that things would culminate in our room.

I was wrong.

Tugging at my waist band she muttered demurely at me being chicken and gave me this transfixing smile of challenge. I did not need to take the hint. Swoosh went my bathing suit and now we both enjoyed mutual access and pleasure.

Ginny was not done.

Sliding one leg over me she straddled me and we began to couple slowly. In part because we were being gentle but in part because we did not want to telegraph to readily to others what the frack was going on. Suffice to say that eventually I had the nail marks on my back from the pleasure Ginny enjoyed of us.

Then as smart and innocent as an imp she slid off me and reached into the water and retrieved her and my suit and put hers on. We caressed and nuzzled and when our wine was done got out and headed in to the change room to towel off.

Inside the basement of the hotel was a men’s and women’s change room with a sauna located equidistant between. As I walked to fetch my towel Ginny grabbed my hand and led me into the sauna. We left the lights off for obvious reasons and made love again, this time completely naked and with the passion of the chance of discovery.

After we showered off and changed we went for dinner. I have to admit there were several servers looking at us with knowing eyes and both Ginny and my eyes glinted mutual recognition of the cat being caught lapping spilt milk.

I treasure my time with Ginny for more than that adventure. But it is one of the singular experiences that I will remember always.

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Spread Your Legs

Yes, please do!

One thing about being older is I think most of us end up not experiencing CC (car coitus) as frequently as we did when we were younger. As a teenager we did not have our own place to go to so often the opportunity to have sex would have to be taken in a car. I wonder what the statistics are for the location of losing one's virginity in Canada and the US is?

Officially I did not loose my virginity in a car but beside one. On wet gravel no less. Guess it was something I really needed to loose.

Once one becomes an adult and get's their own place the frequency of CC goes down pretty dramatically unless it is a fetish. Though not a fetish I have to admit I have revelled in the rare opportunities for CC.

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The Wet Look

I have always loved the way stockings and hose look and feel when they are wet. There is that wonderful sheen that comes off them when the light hits the hose and an interesting heaviness is imported to the nylon when it gets wet. Having had the pleasure of wetting a lover's stockings in the shower and then making love to her is one of my favourite memories.

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