I felt compelled to share a news story I came across a few days ago in which a Central California woman stabbed her husband after “arguing about [nude] photos on a phone”. He was hospitalized and has since been released, she was booked on suspicion of attempted murder and held in lieu of half a million dollars bail, and their two children have been remanded to Child Protective Services.

The article, the first one I happened to read about the case, goes into no detail. We aren’t told whether the nude photos were received from or sent to an outside party. We don’t know whether stabby wife caught her husband sending or receiving said photos, or whether the husband had caught stabby wife sending or receiving them. All the article states is that nude photos were indirectly responsible for a domestic stabbing.

However, many of the follow-up articles published in the days since the story broke state that the stabby wife – one Jasmine M. Teltow – discovered the photos on her husband’s phone, and that they depict “one of the man’s ex-girlfriends”.

I’m not one to try and justify domestic violence, and I’m certainly not going to do so here. But I could almost put myself in Teltow’s shoes if, say, her husband had received the photos from a woman with whom he’d been having an ongoing thing behind his wife’s back. Even if it wasn’t physical – say, someone he met and interacted with online, or an old high school friend with whom he’d reconnected through Facebook – if the rules of their marriage forbid such a thing and he broke those rules, I could almost see where she’s coming from on this.

Wait. No I can’t. She fucking stabbed the guy with a kitchen knife. In fact, per the second article, Teltow stabbed him in the neck. We are not led to believe that she attacked him in self-defense, i.e. she confronted him, he punched her, and she stabbed him. No, she lashed out from a place of fear and inadequacy, because she felt threatened by his having nude photos of another woman on his phone. That motivated her to stab him, ostensibly with the intention of ending his life, because let’s face it, the neck isn’t the fleshy part of the thigh. You go for the neck, you understand that whatever’s on your DVR is going to have to wait until you’ve disposed of the body, mopped the floor, and burned the knife, the mop, and your clothing.

So no, I can’t put myself in her shoes, but I can understand her anger at least in theory. Even if I am not prone to jealousy in such situations, even if I don’t believe that humans are naturally wired to be monogamous, I have to acknowledge that we are socialized that way, and further we are conditioned to feel possessive of our single mate, and to exhibit jealousy, if not necessarily violence, when that possession is challenged, even on a minor level.

And it does seem to be a minor level, doesn’t it? For all we know, based solely on the information given in the two articles I linked, the nude photos were ones the husband had been holding onto since he and the ex-girlfriend were dating. I have pictures of ex-girlfriends going back to before I had a smartphone. Actually, I have pictures of ex-girlfriends going back to before I had a digital camera. I know that I’ve put old photos on my phone for the sake of convenience, as it’s a lot easier to jerk off looking at my relatively small Android phone than it is to lug my laptop from room to room. So it is plausible that he might have done so as well.

Though I have no way of knowing for sure, there has been no indication that the husband was still in contact with the ex-girlfriend featured in the photos, much less that he was involved in an ongoing clandestine relationship with her, or that the pictures had been sent recently. It is conceivable that he just wanted to jerk off to a picture of his ex. That is seemingly no worse than pornography, though I suspect that a woman who’d stab the father of her children for having nude photos of another woman probably isn’t down with him watching porn.

I do, however, accept that there is a difference between the two. Porn features largely unattainable fantasy scenarios that most people probably understand aren’t going to happen to them. Even a random photo of an anonymous nude woman found on the internet carries no implications; it’s just something sexy to look at while getting off. But for some people – many people? – the perceived connection to an ex-girlfriend, even one out of the picture for many years, equals a threat.

But why is that? Is our ability to trust others so non-existent, and our expectation of others to hurt us so high, that we can’t even take the word of our own spouse, someone who presumably vowed to be trustworthy? If that is indeed the case, why get married in the first place? For love or companionship? You can have those things without being married. For the insurance benefits? The financial security? Let’s rule out fear of dying alone because attempting to murder your spouse kind of negates that one.

I suspect that social pressure contributes greatly to some people’s desire to get married. We – women especially, but also some men – are programmed to believe that we are worthless unless we are in a relationship, and by a certain age, married as well. This programming is deliberate, and can be hard for most people to overcome. It’s no secret that many industries get a financial boost from the existence of marriage, from caterers and bakers to beauty supplies and formal wear, to gifts and engraving, to flowers and travel. It’s hardly an accident that psychotherapy is among them.

I’m certain that insecurity is another reason why someone like Jasmine Teltow might get married rather than simply date somebody. In her mind, a person can tell you he loves you until the proverbial sun comes up, but he can still leave you (or fuck other people) until there’s a ring involved. I suspect that, for some, there’s a feeling of anxiety and fear that stems from having a significant other whom you are certain will eventually leave or cheat. The expectation seems to be that a wedding and everything associated therewith – the ring, the ceremony, the party, and even the money spent – will permanently change whatever it was that caused the anxiety and fear in the first place. This is simply not reality.

And what does it say when stabbing someone – anyone, much less a person with whom you’ve agreed to enter a partnership and raise children – is a legitimate reaction? Is it an indictment of monogamy? Perhaps an admission that this centuries-old social construct is such an unrealistic expectation of humanity that it drives us to injure and be injured by those we supposedly love? I realize that the reaction of most people who’ve heard this story will be along the lines of “Crazy bitch” or “What was he doing with nude photos on his phone?” as opposed to “Maybe we should acknowledge that monogamy is far too demanding a standard to expect people to adhere to blindly.”

In the interest of full disclosure, I must state that we know couples that seem to have no problem with monogamy. Whether this is actually the case I cannot say; perhaps they are truly content never flirting, never thinking of anyone other than their spouse or significant other. Perhaps sex just isn’t that important to them, rendering any distractions unnecessary. Perhaps they are secretly non-monogamous while in public maintaining the required façade of monogamy. Or perhaps they aren’t quite as content with the boundaries of their relationship as they appear to be.

I am reminded of the time a female friend posted a photo on Facebook of a fortune her husband had found in a fortune cookie. I don’t remember the exact wording, but it had something to do with him meeting a new friend. It seemed the typical fortune cookie fortune, vague enough that it could apply to virtually anybody who received it. I almost scanned right past it until I saw my friend’s caption, which was along the lines of “It had better be a male friend!” And while she got some LOLs and supportive comments, I just felt sorry for her.

Why would you post this? I thought at the time. Why air your dirty laundry in public? The implication is that her husband has cheated on her, or perhaps that my friend’s self-esteem is so lacking that she expects him to, or even that she micro-manages his friendships and won’t let him socialize with women. And while shaming people on social media seems par for the course these days, I couldn’t understand why this person would want all her friends knowing that she’s married to a man who cheats on her, or otherwise makes her feel inadequate. If that’s the case, if he’s done something to disappoint her to the extent that she must rub his nose in it on social media, why live with that kind of strife? Why not just get a divorce already?

And speaking of Facebook posts, divorce, and shame, this is something I’ve seen in my feed a couple times, typically posted by a woman my own age or close to it. The poster is typically single. I believe they have self-esteem issues, and they’re generally the sort to buy into the notion that marriage will magically eradicate every insecurity that plagues them. Hey, cartoon senior citizens pictured above: Maybe the high rate of divorce these days has less to do with our modern throwaway culture than it does the intense pro-marriage programming – some might say brainwashing – to which we are all subjected to some extent. Don’t shame somebody who got married impulsively, realized it was a terrible mistake, and got out. Incidentally, one of the people who has posted this is currently trapped in a marriage that neither she nor her spouse seem to want. But I guess it would be pretty damned hypocritical if she got a divorce. At least no one’s gotten stabbed yet.

I’m not suggesting that opening their marriage would help. I realize that monogamy isn’t always the greatest source of tension – sometimes it’s money, or alcohol and drug use, depression, or perhaps just the sudden realization that one cannot be happy in a relationship unless one is happy alone – though I believe that if society as a whole could stop bullshitting and open up a dialogue on the topic of sex, notably the fact that it can and often should exist independent of love, we’d all be much happier. Still, I believe that, for most couples, the expectation of monogamy is so ingrained that even the suggestion of non-monogamy is going to cause problems. We are so selfish a culture that compersion remains a foreign concept.

Back to Jasmine Teltow. Her mother initially refused to turn one of the couple’s two children over to child protective services, though after a two-day manhunt the boy was turned over to local police. Police are unlikely to file charges against Teltow’s mother, but we’ve still got a woman facing life in prison, a man who’s been grievously injured and may conceivably suffer from physical and emotional trauma well into the future, and two children whose lives have been severely impacted. Who could have imagined that a few nude photos could have such drastic consequences?

Officially spring will be here (in the northern hemisphere) in a few weeks. I want to rush things along and declare it spring now; especially after the brutal winter we here in the mid-Atlantic states have endured. TMI Tuesday…

Spring the season of love

Jack’s Answers

1. Spring vacation, will you take one? Where?
I’m definitely taking a vacation, as Jill has a week off in April and a break from my normal Daddy duties is called for. I don’t know if we’re planning on going anywhere; we’d like to but finances may prevent us from doing so. At this point I wouldn’t mind just staying home the entire week and having Jill assist me in the day-to-day raising of our child, but I also wouldn’t mind actually going someplace.

Spring time love.

2. Do you become friskier as the temperatures outside heat up?
I don’t think so, as I’m pretty frisky to begin with. After all, note the name of our blog. However, higher temperatures are conducive to wearing less clothing than usual, and wearing less clothing than usual is, for Jill and I at least, very conducive to sex. I realize that nudity isn’t necessarily a sexual thing, but you’ve seen my wife. Can you blame me?

3. Do you flirt more in spring vs. other times of the year?
My flirting level remains pretty steady throughout the year. I don’t know that the opportunities for flirting increase in the spring as opposed to, say, during the December holidays, but I am certain that my desire for flirtation is consistent during all twelve months.

4. Do you dress sexier in the spring?
Not really. The truth is, I rarely dress all that sexy any time of year, and when I do it’s generally because we’ve got a formal event such as a wedding, and I get decked out in a suit. In the spring, or at least when the weather is warmer, I generally focus on comfort over other considerations; therefore it’s not uncommon to find me wearing shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt. Whatever I wear, it’s not the garments that are sexy. It’s the guy who’s wearing them.

5. What day of the week do you have sex most often?
Definitely the weekend. On Saturdays and Sundays Jill and I are better able to make time for sex, because we’re both typically home, and we make a point to get our daughter to sleep early (with varying degrees of success). Additionally, we sometimes manage to sneak off to the bedroom while she’s occupied elsewhere, pushing our one-day average (on weekends) to twice. I miss the days when Jill would get home on a weekday and our daughter would be napping, allowing us one round in the early evening and another round late at night after she’d fallen asleep.

6. Do you use kissing as an important way to test out a new mate? Good kissers, keep and move forward to another stage in a budding relationship. Bad kissers, get pruned and dumped.
Not really. I might pre-judge a potential bedmate by how she kisses, but even if she’s not much of a kisser I will still typically take her to bed. I won’t necessarily encourage thoughts of making it an ongoing thing, as I do value kissing and appreciate a good kisser, but subpar kissing isn’t going to make me slam on the brakes before I’ve gotten her naked.

7. What do you expect from marriage?
a. safety and solidarity and security
b. a journey towards self-fulfillment and self-actualization with a partner that ‘gets’ you.
Both. The right relationship is ideally a mix of (a) and (b), and it’s not the easiest thing in the world to find. Anything short of that is compromising, as far as I’m concerned.

8. Acts of love & kindness. Which would mean more to you:
a. Taking your partner a cup of tea in bed (or receiving that cup of tea)
b. Giving or receiving a box of chocolates or flowers
I’m not much of a tea-drinker, and I don’t require flowers to feel confident in my relationship. A box of chocolates, maybe, but even that doesn’t exactly float my boat. I’d go the obvious route and say that if you want to demonstrate your love for me or give me a gesture of kindness a blowjob is always nice, but if I’m going to answer sincerely, I might go with (b). While I do enjoy store-bought chocolates, the ones my wife makes are so much better, and in fact the other night when I mentioned a craving I was having for one particular variety, she made them right away. That’s love right there.

Bonus: In your late teens or early 20s did you take wild spring break vacations with friends? What is the wildest, craziest, sexiest thing you did on a “gone wild” spring break?
In my early twenties I regularly took road trips with friends over Spring Break. They were indeed the stuff of legend, or at least as much the stuff of legend as anything I’ve ever done. While we’d often meander through Southern California or Las Vegas, we’d sometimes end up in Lake Havasu, which is – or at least was – a popular destination for college students on Spring Break. In addition to the usual Spring Break antics – bogarting our way onto some guy’s houseboat, drinking until we puked, and making out with bikini chicks, among the wildest things that transpired on those trips were a late-night drive from Vegas to the Grand Canyon when we decided we couldn’t afford a hotel for the night, an hour’s drive in the wrong direction because the driver (not me!) misread our printed Yahoo! Maps directions, and a very exciting night wherein I stole a car, shot a bouncer, and had sex with two women.

Falling in love takes one-fifth of a second
It takes a fifth-of-a-second for the euphoria-inducing chemicals to start acting on the brain when you are looking at that special someone. –Source

Jill’s Answers

1. Spring vacation, will you take one? Where?
Do I have to foot the bill myself? If money is no option, I’d love to take a spring vacation to Europe. I don’t think we will, of course, but spending a few days anyplace away from our house is fine with me. Jack and I are still hammering out the details, but we are hoping to take a trip when I’m on vacation next month. A change of scenery would be appreciated.

Spring time love.

2. Do you become friskier as the temperatures outside heat up?
Yes. Warmer temperatures make me want to take off my clothes. Besides, if I’m getting sweaty, I might as well be fucking.

3. Do you flirt more in spring vs. other times of the year?
I think I do. The warm sunshine makes me feel happy, and that plus the fact that I’m not bundled up in multiple layers gives me confidence.

4. Do you dress sexier in the spring?
Again, I wear less layers of clothing in springtime, so yes. What I do wear tends to be revealing compared to what I’m wearing in fall and winter. I favor tank tops, or other tops that show off my cleavage, plus shorts or skirts. Generally speaking, I show more skin in spring.

5. What day of the week do you have sex most often?
Saturdays and Sundays. We have more time on the weekends because Jack and I are both home. We also have more energy, because in theory we can sleep in on Saturday and Sunday mornings. And even if our daughter wakes up early I can make her breakfast and put her in front of the TV, then go back to bed and ride my husband.

6. Do you use kissing as an important way to test out a new mate? Good kissers, keep and move forward to another stage in a budding relationship. Bad kissers, get pruned and dumped.
Not necessarily. Just because someone isn’t very good at kissing doesn’t mean they won’t be good at other things. I feel like I should give them a chance. They might not know how to kiss, but they might be able to finger me for days, or they have great stamina or something. I like a guy (or a woman) who can kiss, and I especially like it when he or she can kiss in addition to doing other things in the sexual realm, but it doesn’t necessarily kill it for me if they can’t.

7. What do you expect from marriage?
a. safety and solidarity and security
b. a journey towards self-fulfillment and self-actualization with a partner that ‘gets’ you.
I expect a combination of both. I want the comfort described in (a), as well as the fun and excitement of (b). I like to think that I’ve found it!

8. Acts of love & kindness. Which would mean more to you:
a. Taking your partner a cup of tea in bed (or receiving that cup of tea)
b. Giving or receiving a box of chocolates or flowers
I like the sound of (a) better than (b), but I’d rather have coffee or hot chocolate. Actually just letting me stay in bed would probably be the ultimate act of love and kindness. I don’t get to just lie in bed enough these days.

Bonus: In your late teens or early 20s did you take wild spring break vacations with friends? What is the wildest, craziest, sexiest thing you did on a “gone wild” spring break?
One year I called in sick for four days and went to Mexico with my roommate. We had a great time on the beach, soaked up some sun, flirted, and made out with cute guys.

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

Trace Jill’s legs with your eyes, and tell me that they don’t resemble a bow, not unlike one you’d find on a birthday present, perhaps handmade from ribbon and just begging to be undone.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

Part II: Giving In

(Part I can be found here.)

He led her to a silk-brocade sofa close to the window, and indicated that she should take a seat. She ignored his gesture and kissed him at long last, casting her arms around his neck and pulling him close to her. Following her lead, he pressed his mouth to hers, his hands moving slowly down her body. She opened her mouth, her tongue slipping sneakily into his.

His hand settled into the warmth between her legs, and he pressed his palm against her. Her body tensed with pleasure as his fingers deftly caressed her vulva through her dress and her panties. She moaned breathlessly as their mouths finally parted, his lips coming to rest on her neck. He kissed her hungrily, with a passion forged in fire. He didn’t linger in one spot too long, she noticed, and she enjoyed that. Rather than focusing on one area he kissed a sexy trail along her bare flesh.

At the same time he began to gather up her dress, revealing her long, smooth legs as his hands ascended. She sighed as she felt his fingers brushing her skin, and when he reached her panties her heart skipped a beat. For an instant, she wondered if he could feel how aroused she was. Then he pulled her panties aside and began to caress her lips.

An electrical charge shot through Becca’s body. His movements were slow and deliberate. Long strokes stopped teasingly short of her clitoris, each one making her wish he’d touch it. At the same time his lips grazed her neck and shoulders.

“Wait,” she said, her voice a whisper, and when he paused she pulled the dress up over her head and tossed it to the ground. She could feel his eyes drinking in the sight of her body, but only for the briefest of moments before he leaned in close once again and took her in his arms. The kiss was hard, intense, and unforgiving. As his fingers resumed their place between her legs she began to grope blindly against his jeans, struggling to unbuckle his belt.

As she managed to slip the leather through the buckle she felt him finally make contact with her swollen, aching clit. Pleasure shot through her like a bolt of lightning and her legs wobbled. His fingers cradled the pink bud, rotating slowly. As her arousal grew even larger, washing over Becca’s entire body, she moved to open his jeans but he stopped her.

“Right now,” he said, “it’s all about you.” Then he began to lead her back to the bed. On the way she slid off her panties and left them forgotten on the floor. Before she knew it, she lay against the duvet, his hands petting her thighs. She looked up as he gazed down at her, unable to mask the white-hot desire in her eyes. She needed to feel him closer than he already was. She wanted to sit up and kiss him again, then take off that T-shirt and caress his broad, muscled chest.

As though he could read her mind, he stopped what he was doing and stripped off the shirt. She gasped at the sight, and reached up to touch him. He came closer, indulging her eager hands. His chest was firm, warm to the touch, and instinctively she began to caress him. She found his nipples to be responsive to her fingers, and he moaned softly as she touched them. As she continued up to his shoulders he reminded her that it was her turn, and moved back between her thighs.

Becca leaned back in anticipation of his touch. But rather than his fingers, it was his tongue. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she felt each long, slow lick. At the same time his hands reached up to caress her breasts through her pretty lace demi-bra. Her nipples stood up, rising to stiff peaks under his touch while her clit did the same. As he covered it with kisses and licks, she felt climax sneaking up on her.

“I want you inside me,” she said breathlessly. “Please. Fill me up.”

It took a moment for him to stop what he was doing and Becca wondered if he was so focused on his task that he hadn’t heard her. But then he rose from between her legs and stood beside the bed. She heard him take off his shoes, and then he quickly doffed his jeans. She heard them hit the floor and then he was on top of her, inside her filling her just as she had asked him to. She gasped as she felt his thickness throbbing within her, the subtle curve of his cock stroking her in all the right places as his hips moved rhythmically.

She moaned, enticing him deeper with whispered words, and clasped her ankles behind his waist to draw him within. At the same time their mouths met again, locked together in a voracious kiss that she hoped would never end. His tongue lapped against hers, exploring her mouth just as his hands were now doing with her body.

He alternated mostly between holding her hips in place as he thrusted, and touching her full, heaving breasts through her bra. Why hadn’t she taken it off before he lay her down on the bed? She made a mental note to discard it as soon as she was able; there was simply no way to handle that task without putting the brakes on his wonderful ministrations.

Their kiss intensified. With each movement the head of his cock glanced against her G-spot, driving her ever closer to orgasm. She drew him even further inside her, first with the heels of her feet, and then with her hands. Her fingers dug into his firm ass, pulling with force and purpose. It wouldn’t be long now, that much was certain.

As she came, Becca let loose, gushing a torrent of wetness all over him. All over herself too; she could feel a waterfall on her thighs and her ass. She moaned without hesitation or restraint, without even a trace of self-consciousness for who might hear her or for the enormous puddle she was surely leaving atop the duvet. He moaned too, a long and lusty sound of satisfaction for the response he’d coaxed from her body.

He slipped out of her quickly, much to Becca’s disappointment. She was about to voice her protest, to ask him to come back, when he replaced his still throbbing cock with a very hungry mouth. Gone were the slow, teasing licks with which he’d tantalized her before. This was something entirely different. This was a man so aroused by her orgasm that he needed to lap up every drop of her before his hunger could be sated.

Once it was, he entered her again, and raised her legs up onto his shoulders. He gave her just a few seconds before he slid all the way inside, filling her even more fully and deeply than he had before. She gasped at his intensity, his thrusts slow and complete rather than quick and frantic.

She felt herself once again getting carried away. Her moans came quickly now, and she moved a hand to her clit intent on helping push her over the edge. Then she paused, and looked up into his dark brown eyes, seeking tacit permission. He smiled and nodded, drops of sweat rolling over his brow, and Becca began to play.

This time her orgasm was even more intense, though not as wet as the first had been. When it subsided he wasted no time before turning over onto his back, taking her with him. She straddled his waist, her thighs clasped tightly about him and his engorged cock still deep inside. She was wet, slippery, and began to slowly rock back and forth on his length.

He took her hands in his and pulled her down, kissing her with a hunger and passion she’d never known. As their mouths fused together his hands instinctively went for her chest. She sighed with pleasure, enjoying how well they fit together. For a moment she fancied that his hands were the mold from which her body was cast.

Without interrupting the kiss she reached back and unfastened the straps, freeing her breasts and letting the bra fall lifelessly to the surface of the bed. At long last, the kiss broke and he took her breasts in his mouth, first one and then the other before returning to the first and continuing the pattern. His lips were noisy, smacking and slurping as he had done with her pussy. He swirled his tongue around her nipples before enveloping each breast in his mouth. If there was a Heaven, surely this was it.

Without her noticing, his fingers made their way to her lips, opening them and strumming her still-buzzing clit. Her body sped up, her movements no longer slow back-and-forth rocking. Instead she was riding him like a woman possessed, grinding so hard that her next orgasm was ensured. With each shifting of her body he impaled her completely, rolling her engorged button between thumb and forefinger. This one was the most intense orgasm she’d yet experienced. Once again she soaked him, but he didn’t stop touching her, didn’t cease his thrusts, until the melody of moans and sounds of pleasure emanating from within her had ceased completely.

She collapsed against his chest, his cock still diamond-hard inside her. “I think I might have had two just now,” she said breathlessly. Her voice was excited, but faint. “I can hardly talk.”

They kissed again, softer and more sweetly this time. There was still a measure of heat to the kiss, but familiarity and comfort as well. She wanted to tell him how good it was, how it was perhaps the best she’d ever had. How no one had made her body do things like that before. But instead, when their lips parted, she moved next to him, lay her head against his chest, and listened to his heartbeat.

They lay together in silence for a moment, Becca hoping her own heartbeat would slow to normal. She hadn’t felt this way in a very long time, and the feelings she had for him scared her a little. It was all she could do to keep from climbing back on top of him.

“It’s your turn now,” she said, a wicked smile on her face. “I want you to come for me.”

“I will,” he said. “Believe me, I’ve been close a few times.”

“Time to go all the way,” she said, sitting up. She began to kiss her way along his neck and collarbones, then his chest. He really seemed to like it when she kissed him there; she knew some guys’ nipples were more sensitive than others, and she enjoyed turning him on this way.

Her lips made their way over his stomach, then kissed along the curve of his hip. He moaned, and Becca made sure to remember that he liked the way it felt. Next she started to kiss the inside of his thigh, but thought better of it and went instead for his cock. She knew he had been wanting to feel her mouth on him, and she saw no reason to make him wait a second longer.

He had been somewhat reserved up until this point, but as her lips enveloped him, he could hold back no longer. He moaned his appreciation, his body tensing up as pleasure overtook him. She moved her mouth up and down, swallowing him to the base and then slowly releasing. She couldn’t get enough of him; she wanted to feel his swollen tip at the back of her throat.

She began to lick him up and down with a spry and eager tongue. She listened for his breathing and any change in his moans, but he remained consistent. Becca noticed his hand gripping the duvet, his knuckles flexed into a tight fist. She smiled to think that she was the one doing this to him and continued, now pumping him quickly up and down as she ran her tongue over his head.

She took her in her mouth again, this time taking her as deeply as he would go, though she could only hold him there for an instant before she had to come up for air. Then she did it again and again, emboldened each time by his impassioned sounds of gratification. Rather than touching her – stroking her hair, maybe, or caressing the side of her face – he remained perfectly still. He didn’t undulate his hips or even tremble with delight, and he barely moaned. Becca realized that he was actively focusing on his looming orgasm.

After a moment, he spoke: “I’m close. Where do you want it?”

She stopped sucking. “Want to come on my tits?” He moaned his agreement as Becca stroked him in her hand.

“Get on your back. I can finish myself off.” She gave no indication that she heard him; she had taken his cock back in her mouth, intent on bringing him as close to the edge as she could before he pushed himself over it. It didn’t take long.

He warned her of his impending eruption, then hopped up to his knees as she rolled over onto her back. He took his cock in hand and rubbed it back and forth until he’d reached the point of no return. He moaned loudly and lustfully, the sounds of his pleasure filling the room. She held her breasts up to him, proffering them for his use. With one spurt, then two, then three, he painted her. He continued to pour out onto her like a canvas until she was nicely decorated.

His moans gave way to short, quick pants as his climax subsided, and his movements slowed to almost total stillness. Only the odd shudder remained as his body was wracked with the dying embers of his pleasure. He slid down to the bed, wrapping her in a warm, protective embrace as they lay side by side. As his chest pressed against hers, Becca could feel his thunderous heartbeat. His breath on her neck came in shallow exhalations as he slowly regained his composure.

“That was so good,” he said at last. She laughed, proud of herself, even as she felt herself blushing. “You know, I remember you telling me that you didn’t like giving blowjobs.”

“Not that I didn’t like it. I just…wasn’t comfortable doing it.”

“Well, you sure seem comfortable now,” he said with a smile.

“You make me comfortable,” she said, her fingers trailing his hip once again. It was true. He made her feel safe and secure, both physically and emotionally. She kissed him softly on his cheek, and he turned his head so that their lips met. The taste of his lips, the subdued introduction of his tongue in her mouth – all of it made her heart feel happy.

When their kiss broke he led her to the shower, a spacious cabinet encased in glass on three sides. He turned on the water and once it was warm they stepped onto small gray and white tiles, letting the spray cascade over them. But rather than washing they kissed again, hands once again traversing each other’s bodies. His hands found their way to her pussy, fingers stroking her clit with the circular motion she’d so enjoyed. Without warning, he pulled away from her, quickly turning her around to mount her from behind. His fingers continued their work even as he pistoned in and out of her, and he didn’t stop until they came together.

To be continued…

Welcome to our new home! We’re still unpacking a few things, but we’re more or less moved in and we look forward to entertaining visitors here for years to come. Note the rotating headers. There are sixteen of them, so refresh your browser often.

On Friday night I went drinking with a friend from high school who happens to work at Google. She knows nothing of the ins and outs of Jills and my relationship, or of this blog for that matter. Thus it was necessary – though difficult after several beers – to keep myself from telling her how her company had thrown the blogging community to which I belong into disarray.

Last Monday, February 23, I and many of my fellow bloggers who use Google’s Blogger platform received an email announcing changes to Blogger’s adult content policy. According to the email, as of March 23 Blogger would no longer allow blogs with “sexually explicit or graphic nude images or video”. It would, however, “allow nudity presented in artistic, educational, documentary, or scientific contexts, or where there are other substantial benefits to the public from not taking action on the content”, and if that doesn’t sound like an arbitrary distinction, I don’t know what does.

As of March 23, any blogs that contained the aforementioned graphic content and which were not deemed by Google to offer “substantial benefits” would be forced to go private, viewable only to blog administrators and those they have approved for access. It was claimed that no content would be deleted, however.

This isn’t the first time we felt threatened by our choice of blogging platform. In June 2013, Google announced plans to shut down any monetized adult blogs that used Blogger. We weren’t really blogging for pay; our brief tenure writing sponsored posts for a certain adult retailer that doesn’t deserve a shout-out had wrapped up long before, and at any rate, we removed links and references to the company from those posts. Still, the word around the blogosphere was that if Google was shutting down monetized adult blogs, their next step was certainly shutting down all adult blogs. It was simply the latest in a long line of sex-negative maneuvers by the status quo.

Unwilling to lose the years of writing and photography we’d shared, we exported our Blogger blog to WordPress. We declined at the time to self-host, opting instead for a standard free blog. However, it wasn’t long before WordPress announced that it would be shutting down all non-self-hosted adult blogs. So we abandoned our new abode after one single TMI Tuesday post – a lost TMI Tuesday, if you will – that will be posted here soon, and returned to our Blogger blog, taking care to ensure that nothing about it said “we get paid to do this.”

After more than a year and a half of blogging at Blogger with no complications, the email I received on the 23rd was most unwelcome, but perhaps it was a wakeup call. Perhaps if we had self-hosted back in 2013 it wouldn’t have mattered. But all I could think of was the extraordinary expense of self-hosting when blogging had always been – and perhaps should be – free. After all, we’d blogged without paying a dime since 2008. Why should that change just because someone high up on the Google food chain feels uncomfortable when he – certainly he, not she – hears the word vagina?

It became clear that the only way we could continue blogging and reach an audience doing so was to finally bite the bullet and self-host. While money is tight, I was more concerned with whether or not I could actually pull off such a move. However, many of my fellow bloggers offered encouragement, pointing out the relatively low cost of self-hosting, and the relative ease of making the change.

As I contemplated self-hosting, my Twitter feed began to fill with retweets from hosting companies offering sanctuary to those who would be displaced by the policy change. Tech bloggers and free speech activists wrote about the implications of such a move, with most decrying Google for the draconian measure. And the adult blogosphere itself was indeed thrown into disarray, some bloggers throwing up their hands and admitting defeat, and others like me planning to abandon the platform that had served them for so long.

On Thursday, February 26th, I received an email from Katie Notopoulos, Senior Editor of Buzzfeed. She was working on a story about the policy change and had found our blog listed on Rori‘s Top 100 Sex Bloggers list, as reposted at Innocent Loverboy.  As our URL indicated we were using Blogger, she asked for some background on our blog, as well as our thoughts on the situation.

As this was the first mainstream media request we’ve ever received, I was only too happy to oblige.  Here’s my reply to Katie’s email:

We launched our blog in September 2008. As we had been married just over a year, we thought it would be fun to have some ongoing record of our escapades. It was, and is, a labor of love; we enjoy writing for the blog, and did so even when we had very few regular readers. The adult content that we post includes but is not necessarily limited to photography and prose or other writing. We’ve written a few political posts, generally concerning sexual politics: Sandra Fluke, Republicans’ attempts to ban pornography, sexual consent, and use of the word “slut”.

I couldn’t possibly guess as to how many regular (or even occasional) readers we have, though according to Blogger our posts over the last two months have an average of 197 page views. Posts that we’ve done for Sinful Sunday, a weekly photo meme, received an average of thirteen comments each week since January, but it’s a relatively popular weekly meme and not necessarily indicative of regular blog readership. It’s also worth noting that we’ve blogged less actively the last couple years than we did previously; Sinful Sunday posts in 2012, for example, received between twenty and thirty comments.

We blog for a number of reasons. In addition to having a record of our sexual life both together and apart, we sought a community of like-minded individuals, i.e. those who view sex as a natural part of existence and something to be enjoyed rather than to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. The majority of those we know offline are far less candid about the subject, and it pained us to consider that those few who viewed sex as we do had grown more conservative with age or parenthood. Additionally, I enjoy writing, and I’m fairly certain that more people have read this blog than literally anything else I’ve written.

We’re upset by Google’s decision. It represents yet another example of society’s sex-negative bent, and it’s all the more disappointing considering that Google claims to champion freedom of speech. We find it especially troubling that the company’s Blogger platform will continue to allow explicit imagery “presented in artistic, educational, documentary, or scientific contexts, or where there are substantial benefits to the public”. Sounds arbitrary, doesn’t it?

However, we aren’t surprised by this turn of events. There was rumor that Google would be changing its policy in June of 2013, so we exported our blog to WordPress just in time for them to levy a similar threat at non-self-hosted blogs. We abandoned WordPress and resumed blogging in our original location, wary that they could change their adult content policy at any time. Now, however, it appears we’re out of luck dealing with Google, and are planning to switch to self-hosting through WordPress in the next week or two.

By the time Katie’s article was published, however, Google had posted a statement on its Blogger support page effectively reversing its position.

This week, we announced a change to Blogger’s porn policy. We’ve had a ton of feedback, in particular about the introduction of a retroactive change (some people have had accounts for 10+ years), but also about the negative impact on individuals who post sexually explicit content to express their identities. So rather than implement this change, we’ve decided to step up enforcement around our existing policy prohibiting commercial porn.

I woke to a message on Friday calling my attention to this latest development, and briefly considered staying with Blogger. After all, I could think of plenty of things to do with the money I would be spending on hosting, and what’s more I didn’t need the stress or headache that would inevitably come with moving our blog into a new space. But then I thought back to 2013, and I realized that eventually someone at Google would decide again to eliminate or otherwise diminish all adult blogs that use Blogger, and I’d have to go through all of this once more. It might be six months from now, or it might be a year from now. And they might backpedal again, or they might not. Or they might just arbitrarily delete my blog one day without warning. It’s happened to others, though whether accidental or deliberate based on content or other factors I cannot say.

That’s ultimately a big part of why Jill and I decided to self-host. It wasn’t as expensive as I thought it would be, and while it was difficult for someone with my limited acumen I had lots of help from those in the know, especially DomSigns, proud owner of Molly Moore, with whose Sinful Sunday meme you’re undoubtedly familiar. Additional guidance and support came from Cheeky Minx and Beck. If you are enjoying our new digs, be aware that they wouldn’t be quite as snazzy without them. In fact, without Molly and DomSigns, we would likely still be shackled to Blogger.

I am grateful to everyone who expressed support and offered encouragement and assistance, but more than anything I am happy simply not having our blog attached to the yoke of a major megacorporation, not having to trust that Google won’t delete our blog someday when someone who works for them has a bad day or simply presses the wrong button. That was always a fear for Jill and I, and it led me to back up our blog religiously. And while we will likely continue to do so, I feel like I can breathe a sigh of relief, somewhat more confident in the knowledge that our blog is in good hands.

Lest it sounds like I’m painting Google in a harsh light, please know that nothing is further from the truth. I just don’t want to rely on them for my blogging livelihood. However, I will be forever grateful to them not only for giving us a platform in the first place, but also for the excellent Doctor Who browser game they created for the show’s 50th anniversary. Play it here if you’re so inclined.

On Friday, the Sinful Sunday community learned that two regular participants had stolen all of their images from other websites.  While I can’t say for certain how long the two had taken part in the meme, nor how many other bloggers they managed to fool, both also had Twitter accounts.  I don’t know whether they used that site to share any self-portraiture (or any photography at all, for that matter), but it can and should be assumed that any information they tweeted was also fraudulent.

Your post must contain a photograph (original drawing and paintings are acceptable) that you took or that someone took of you.