“Loving the new bra…”, posted November 11, 2010
TMI Tuesday: October 9, 2012 – Fuck Yeah It’s Random
Found at Tahra’s Random Stuff
Hey, hey, hey, hey…Time to get random again on TMI Tuesday. Why? Because it is fun to know random stuff about you; it can reveal a lot about your personality.
Jack’s Answers
1. Tell us about your sluttiest act ever.
I honestly don’t know of anything that qualifies as particularly slutty. I’ve had a lot of sex, but when I recall my past escapades, the word “slutty” doesn’t exactly come to mind. Make no mistake, I’m not ashamed of the label, and I’d wear it with pride if it actually fit. But I don’t think it does. I’m kind of sad about that, really. And that makes me think – what is “slutty”, exactly? Some people feel that if you’ve ever had non-procreative sex, you’re a slut. To this demographic, “slutty” is a pejorative best thrown at women in order to oppress them. Sane and rational people, however, understand that such terms are not necessarily negative, and that they can be applied to both genders. Sexual pleasure, after all, is a good thing. We should all strive to be sluts, or at the very least to embrace a definition of the word that truly suits us.
2. Have you ever played air-guitar. . .naked?
No. I don’t play air-guitar, clothed or otherwise. However, if I did, I’ve got to believe that it would be more fun naked (because everything is more fun naked).
Including getting arrested!
3. To what song do you most like to play air-guitar either clothed or naked?
Once again, I don’t play air-guitar. It’s not something that I see the point of doing. Seriously, what is the purpose of pretending to play the guitar without actually having one in your hands? I’m pretty sure that I’ve never – not one single time in my life – played air-guitar. However, here’s a bit of Jack trivia you might appreciate: I learned to play acoustic guitar for the purpose of playing Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song” in the hopes of getting laid in college.
4. Are you good in bed? Why?
Depends. Am I good at sex? Yes. Am I good at sleeping? No. (Hey, the question didn’t specify.) I am good at sex because I enjoy it, and I do a good job transferring my own enjoyment onto my partner by seeing to her pleasure and ensuring that she’s continually satisfied. People who enjoy sex ideally have partners who do as well. I consider myself not only a skilled lover, but a generous one as well, and it is a tremendous ego-boost to know that my partner has enjoyed herself. Why am I bad at sleeping? Mainly because I find it difficult to settle down and relax unless I have achieved everything I wanted to achieve in a given day. This is pretty much impossible; I am very driven, and often expect far too much from myself, especially now that I am a parent. Accordingly I often find myself limited to around four or five hours of sleep each night, or sometimes even less.
5. What FEELS Sexy to you–tactile sensation? (Leave sight and taste out of this)
Bare female flesh: Thighs, breasts, hips. Alternately I’d go with silk, as in my opinion this fabric is so soft and sensual and indeed so inextricably connected to sex that I find the feel of a silk handkerchief or necktie arousing.
Bonus: Write a six word autobiography.
Came from nothing; got it all.
Jill’s Answers
1. Tell us about your sluttiest act ever.
I guess it depends on what you consider slutty. I’ve fucked multiple guys within days of each other, but I don’t think that’s all that slutty. I guess I’ll go with the time that Jack fingered and fucked me at Power Exchange while other men slowly closed in on us and began to touch and grab me. I felt kinda slutty when that happened.
2. Have you ever played air-guitar. . .naked?
No, I don’t play air-guitar. Maybe some air-drums, but never air-guitar.
Once in awhile I’ve been known to do air quotes.
3. To what song do you most like to play air-guitar either clothed or naked?
None. I haven’t changed my stance on air-guitar since the last question. Although I do not play it, I will sometimes find myself drumming on the steering wheel of my car when I hear a song with a good beat. “You Shook Me All Night Long”, by AC/DC, will usually inspire a great air-drum solo.
4. Are you good in bed? Why?
Yes I am. As far as the “why”, I asked Jack and he said that I never leave him unsatisfied. I have always made a point of ensuring that my partners have everything they want or need sexually. I try to read their body language and interpret their moans, and then I use my hands and mouth (as well as my pussy as much as possible) to increase their pleasure. I feel that, since I’ve been with Jack especially, I have pushed my boundaries in order to enhance our sexual experiences and our mutual sexual pleasure.
5. What FEELS Sexy to you–tactile sensation? (Leave sight and taste out of this)
Strong shoulders. I love to rub my hands up and down Jack’s strong arms, from his forearms up to his shoulders, while he is fucking me. Of course, I love feeling his cock in my hand as well: The way it grows hard in my fingers, the way it throbs, the sensitive skin on the underside. I love touching him when he is asleep, too. He always wakes up aroused. But his shoulders are almost indescribably hot.
Bonus: Write a six word autobiography.
Sexy wife who enjoys feeling loved.
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!
Football, Fucking, and a Forgotten Guest
At the two-minute warning, the Niners were five TDs ahead.
Jill had been asking for sex since the ten-minute mark, and although it was clear that our team couldn’t lose, there was no way I was going to walk away from the game until it was clear that the Buffalo Bills were not only defeated but completely demoralized. I’m kind of fucked up like that.
Lest you come to the conclusion that I am the sort of husband who neglects his wife on any given Sunday in favor of watching sweaty guys in helmets and shoulder pads toss each other around a football field, it should be stated for the record that I was surprised, shocked even, by my wife’s ability to shift her focus from football to sex before the broadcast had concluded and the game’s victor was decided.
In a manner of speaking, the game’s victor was already decided. Buffalo had proven itself unable to score beyond a single field goal in the second quarter, and while that was three more points than the Jets had been allowed a week earlier, it seemed to us that the Bills had barely even shown up for the game.
The Niners scored a sixth touchdown in the closing minutes, and I decided a compromise was in order. Since Jill obviously had the itch so bad that she was willing to miss the end of the game, and since our daughter was sound asleep and we had a friend coming for dinner in less than an hour, I proposed that we have sex right on the living room floor in front of the television. It wasn’t an odd request; my wife, of all people, would certainly understand my need for closure. At any rate, I wasn’t sure that hearing the final plays of the game being called was conducive to my own arousal, and I acknowledged that it might very well be a turn-off.
Jill was already undressed. We moved to the center of the room, aware of the fact that our daughter snoozed peacefully on the couch right behind us. I took off my clothes, and dropped down between Jill’s legs to sate our respective desires. Just as I got started the game ended, and the network switched to the end of the Patriots game. As I began to move my tongue up and down the lips of her pussy, Jill craned her neck to watch her second-favorite team defeat Denver. Although there were mere minutes left in the game her first orgasm came before it had ended.
I devoured Jill’s pussy for a half hour, easy. By the time she’d had enough, my chin was slick and fragrant with her juices, her taste heavy on my tongue. She urged me to fuck her, first doggy style and then missionary. The soundness of our daughter’s sleep was evident from our raucous cheers after each San Francisco touchdown. By comparison, the sounds of our lovemaking were whispers.
I pulled out when I came, sending my spasming cock into Jill’s open mouth. She drew me into her throat and swallowed voraciously, my moans reaching a crescendo even as she cradled my balls and stroked my shaft with great excitement. She made sounds of desire and satisfaction, sucking me down before gasping for breath.
We stayed there for a few moments, the forgotten television playing static for all we knew or cared. Jill leaned back and rested on her elbows and I loomed over her, my still-throbbing cock hanging before her face. I exhaled deeply, still aroused, ready for more. As I gave a couple strokes I noticed drops of my cum dotting Jill’s lips and tongue as she lapped at the swollen head, desperate for one last taste.
“You want more?” I asked, stroking faster. She nodded, her eyes betraying her lust. I was already close. I could feel her tongue skimming the underside of my member, strumming it like a skilled musician. I looked down at her breasts, nipples erect with anticipation. I imagined myself climaxing all over them. But Jill had other ideas.
“Cum in my face,” she told me when my orgasm hit. I may consider myself dominant, but when given such an order I do as I’m told. Jill leaned her head back, opening her mouth and showing me the tongue that had taken most of my previous ejaculation. My second orgasm was even more intense, more fierce, than the one that came before. My knees went weak, and I found myself with nothing to steady my posture as I began to erupt.
Looking down, I saw thick jets of my cum burst forth, lashing Jill’s face just as she wanted. She made no attempt to catch it in her mouth, but every time some hit her tongue she swallowed quickly and opened her mouth again hoping for more. Her eyes were closed tightly, and as I continued to climax I stroked even harder, desperate to wring forth every last drop.
I reached for my phone, hoping to take a Twitter-worthy picture of my wife’s dripping tongue and chin. As I pressed the button the doorbell rang.
This is the shot we ended up with.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said, as I uttered a similar sentiment. We told our guest to be here at five, and it was exactly five. I assumed she’d text, maybe ask for our unit number or something. But no, there she was. Jill leapt to her feet as I moved to the intercom. I buzzed our guest into the building, unlocked the door to our condo, and followed Jill into the bedroom, carrying my clothes with me.
We hurried to get dressed, then stood at the bathroom sink, washing our faces with some sort of hand soap that smelled of fresh mint. Unsatisfied with this measure, we took a few swigs of mouthwash, and by the time we walked out our guest was none the wiser.
-Jack
Mammary Monday
Have you noticed a theme? Much like last week’s The Naughty Hangout, and yesterday’s Sinful Sunday, today’s post is all about breast cancer awareness. October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and we couldn’t pass up the chance to urge every woman reading this to have a regular screening to prevent or detect breast cancer. And although rare, breast cancer can affect men as well. A breast examination should be part of your regular physical.
-Jill
Sinful Sunday: How to Save a Life
Because October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, the theme of Sinful Sunday this week is “Get Positively Pink”. As we have both been affected by breast cancer, we are pleased to have this opportunity to help raise awareness.
See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!
Formspring Friday: Maternal Influence
How has your relationship with your mother affected your sex life or your attitude towards sex?
(Submitted by Cougar in Training)
First off, Jack is taking a pass on this one. He claims that his relationship with his mother didn’t affect his sex life in any conscious fashion and from what I know of it I would say that he is correct. Additionally, Jack read the words “your mother” and “sex” in the same sentence and pretty much shut down. So I’m all you get this week.
Growing up, sex wasn’t something that was really addressed in our household, certainly not by my parents. Of course, my siblings and I knew that they were having sex. Even if we couldn’t hear their bed frame moving late at night, there were eight of us so it was clear that there was nothing dysfunctional about their sexual relationship. We just didn’t discuss it, or anything sexual, with them. Also, my parents frequently took weekend trips in order to be alone. We all knew that their alone time didn’t just involve quiet dinners and sleeping in. But again, no one ever talked about it.
I don’t remember my mother and I having any sort of sex talk when I began dating. I learned about sex from a variety of sources both reliable and otherwise including my friends, romance novels and porn, women’s magazines, and the limited sex ed program offered by the Catholic high school I attended. In the days before the internet, it was pretty difficult for me, as a young woman raised in a religious household, to find unbiased, positive information about sex, specifically sexual pleasure.
One of the first times I can recall having a vaguely sexual discussion with my mother was shortly before Jack and I got married. After we met with the priest who was going to marry us, my mother asked me what he had to say about the fact that Jack and I were living together. He hadn’t mentioned it and we got the sense that it wasn’t a real concern of his. Technically while Jack stayed with me when he was in town on the weekends, we were not living together before we got married. We weren’t even living in the same area code.
My mother and I have a very close relationship today. Since I’ve been married she comes off as much more sex-positive than I ever thought she was. I’ve been able to talk freely with her about the importance of sex and intimacy in a relationship. The one piece of advice she’s given me that has stood out more than any other is to make a conscious effort to continue to be intimate after having children. It’s something that I’ve taken to heart, and in some ways it is part of the reason that Jack and I enjoy such an active sex life today.
– Jill
If you want to ask us a sexy question, drop us a line on Formspring, or use the handy Formspring widget on the right-hand side of our blog. To see who else participated this week, search #FormspringFriday on Twitter! If you have a Formspring account and you aren’t already participating, feel free to join in the Formspring Friday fun!
The Naughty Hangout: Public Service Announcement
This week, the main theme at The Naughty Hangout is “Breast Cancer Awareness”, in accordance with Breast Cancer Awareness Month. We think this week’s photo speaks for itself.
We considered including a mouseover image incorporating one of the backup themes – “Massive” and “Blossom”, but felt that the importance of the primary theme was such that nothing else was needed. That, or we’re just lazy.
Wicked Wednesday: Craving
Her Skype status read “In the mood…”
In the mood for what, exactly? Love? I knew the old standard, famously performed by “Alfalfa” Switzer in a Little Rascals short from the 1930s. But I suspected that her status was not in reference to this. In the mood for ice cream, perhaps? Definitely appealing, but again, this was probably not what she craved.
I clicked on her name and began typing.
In the mood for ice cream?
She replied with a smiley face, and then the following:
You know what I’m in the mood for.
I smiled in spite of myself. Want a show?
She wrote back quickly. Yes, baby. I was hoping you’d offer.
I clicked the “Video Call” button and in seconds I was looking at her beautiful brown eyes. Admittedly I would have preferred to be gazing at her full breasts or her perfect ass, but I wasn’t complaining. We had plenty of time.
She spoke first, a simple hello. I returned the greeting, and we exchanged a moment’s worth of small talk, both of us making no attempt to hide the eagerness we felt.
“So,” she said before long, “Do you have something you’d like to show me?”
My cock bulged against the inside of my jeans. I unbuckled my belt and opened my pants, setting it free. As I dropped my jeans to the floor I stood up, revealing to her my throbbing member.
She licked her lips. She sighed, purred even. “You look delicious.”
I kicked off my jeans and sat back down in front of my laptop. I began to stroke my hardness as I gazed at her. I imagined taking off her top and nuzzling her breasts as I lowered my hand to part her damp petals. I imagined slipping a finger inside of her while I caressed her clit with another. And I would have imagined much more had she not interrupted.
“I like what you’re doing, baby,” she said, “but I can’t see.”
I tilted the screen of my laptop downward in the hopes of giving her a better angle. As I did I realized that in doing so I would be unable to see whatever she might do. I tilted it back up.
“How about if I stand?” She nodded her approval of my suggestion and I rose from my chair even as she began to unbutton her blouse, revealing a silky black bra that could barely contain her assets. I stroked faster, as though demonstrating my appreciation. She caressed her breasts, eventually freeing them from their constraints. As she rolled her hands over her hardening nipples I felt orgasm drawing near and I slowed down.
Her hands drifted down her body and out of frame. It looked like she was trying to tuck one inside of her waistband. Her arm began to move slowly, and there was no mistaking what she was doing. “No fair!” I said. “Now I can’t see!”
“Is this better?” she asked as she stood up. She was naked from her waist down, her every inch a tantalizing pleasure. Her fingers strummed her pussy, dancing erotically over her lips and her clit. The sight inspired me to stroke faster than I had before, and I could see the edge approaching. I wanted to slow down again. But I watched as she began to work her fingers in and out, and I knew that it was too late.
My moans were loud, uncharacteristically so. It was the sort of release I don’t always allow myself when I masturbate. Sometimes I just can’t. But she made it easy. I came without concern or inhibition, erupting much like a volcano might. The first bursts of my ejaculation arced high, fortunately missing my laptop. I wondered how it looked on her end.
The rest of it ran down my hand and over my fingers, thick and sticky. When my orgasm subsided and my noises ceased, I used a tissue to clean up as I caught my breath.
“Fucking hot!” she said with a smile as she sat down. I could tell that she was still playing with her clit.
“So,” I said. “What are you in the mood for, exactly?
“An orgasm! It’s my turn now.”
Retro HNT: Your turn…
Cowboy and the Harlot – A Serial Story
Click here for Part 1
She donned a black camisole, a matching garter belt, and stockings. Once he had commenced his regular nighttime routine she slipped on a pair of high heels and stepped outside.
She sauntered to his bedroom door and turned the knob. As expected, it was unlocked.
Click here for Part 3
This Serial Sex Challenge was designed by Ram the Sunlover.