clean is the new sexy

Thursday evening, after I said goodbye to the last few guests (and why is it that the last people always linger the longest?), I have to admit that I was slightly grumpy that Mr. S. had disappeared and left me to deal with them. I was grumbling more than a little when I trudged into the kitchen for what I knew would be hours of dish duty... only to find a nearly immaculate kitchen. The countertops were clear, the leftovers all in the fridge, the dishwasher humming. There he was: whistling and drying platters. Nothing is sexier than a man who helps out in the kitchen.

And of course, you know about my fascination with the kitchen...

I surprised him with a steamy kiss and ran my fingernails up and down his back. It didn't take him long to register what was going on and he did that sort of half-moan/half-kiss thing that I love. I was nibbling at his neck and then taking off his shirt, his belt, his pants--anything that got in my way. My intention was to give him the blow job to end all blow jobs, but before I could so much as kneel, he spun me around, bent me over the island, and fucked me.

I'm still a little trembly.

No, really. Just writing this catches my breath.

I was splayed over the island, trying to claw my fingers into the countertop, while he gripped my hips and fucked me from behind. It was immediate and delicious and everything I'd been waiting for. And when it wasn't enough, he turned me back around and boosted me up. Everything is a blur and a tangle but I do know my legs were wrapped around his waist, his face was buried in my tits, and I somehow bit my lip open trying--unsuccessfully--to keep from screaming.

After we both finished, I slid off of him somewhat less than gracefully and stumbled my way to bed. No shower, no nothing. Clean might be the ultimate in sexy, but it ends in dirty either way.

THE TALK

The last few months have been pretty difficult from an emotional standpoint. Obviously, this isn't really the forum for me to go into that, but I feel it's only fitting for me to make my next post a tribute to my mama.

One of the things I inherited from my mother was a joy for life and an unabashed zeal for sex. She was always very frank with us about sexuality. In fact, we never actually got "THE TALK" because it was such an open topic at home. While most people get the heeby-jeebies if their parents talk about sex, it was so normal Chez Sparks that it never occurred to me to mind. Thanks, Mom, for the great open-mindedness.

p.s. It's good to get back to the business of pleasure.

it won't be soon before long

Shortly after my last post, my mom passed away. I'm still trying to put the pieces together for myself.

Sorry if you've been missing me. I'll write again soon. My goal is this week.

Keep your fingers crossed.

this could get messy...

Saturday night. Yes, we fucked outside again. But this time, the neighbors were outside partying next door, so we crept around to the other side of the house with a blanket and fucked on the lawn. At least two or three groups of people walked on the sidewalk past us; I'm absolutely impressed that I was able to be quiet enough to keep them from spotting us. I've got to say though, the idea of getting caught is way hotter when you're inside your house imagining it. Mr. S. LOVES sex outside. Me, I love making him happy. And it's novel, and I'm all about encouraging fun and new and interesting. Looks like I'll be spending a bit of time on my knees in dewy grass.

Then there's the Honeydust. This morning I woke up to the feel of a feather against my thigh. My man had sprinkled some dust there and was in the process of waking me up. Mmmf. I have never wanted to call in sick so badly. I promised him a raincheck for this evening, so I'll be good to review the deliciousness shortly thereafter. When I came home from work, I saw the remnants of this morning's snack all over the sheets. Looks like I'll be spending a bit of time rolling around in raspberry powder.

Maybe we'll invest in a massaging showerhead for all the extra bathing I'll be doing...

the back burner

This is where sex goes at the slightest showing of stress, anger, illness, or distraction in our lives. I took my birth control pill this morning, looked down at the dial, and realized I hadn't had sex in a week. Mind you, we both flew high for a long time off having sex outdoors for the first time, and within plain sight of neighbors (who didn't see), no less. In fact, I'm typing up this reflection from my back patio, where I'm waiting for my husband to reappear any minute. Am I hoping for a repeat? You betcha. On the west side of our privacy fence, this time, is a different set of neighbors who are having a low-key party. We have six logs flaming in the fire pit. I want a sequel!

I feel, though, as if my desires go on the back burner any time something "more important" creeps up. In fact, this morning I received my first shipment from edenfantasys: Kama Sutra's Honeydust. And I'd reaaaaaaaaaally like to be able to review it in the morning. (HINT HINT, MR. S.) He's busy right now, but the very moment he comes out here, I'll do my best to give him the "naughty girl wants a deep-dicking" look and we'll see what he does from there. Ha! Hopefully I'll be able to file a Sunday report that yes, in fact, sex is on the front burner again. Ooh--here he comes! Shh! I wasn't here!

so THAT'S what a privacy fence is for!

Last night, I was a naughty girl. My man and I were on the patio, enjoying the firepit, sipping on some chilled wine. I excused myself to "take care of something." Padding into the bedroom, I quickly removed all of my clothing and put on a frumpy terrycloth robe. When I got back outside, I sidled up to Mr. S and put my hand on his shoulder.

He smiled up at me and ran his hand up the back of my thigh until, to his delight and mine, he realized I was nude beneath the robe. He stroke my thighs and ass, pinched lightly at my mons, rolled my clit between his fingers. I was moaning (probably too loudly), which made him even more eager. At first, he wanted to fuck me up against the patio table. He had no more than entered me when he saw the neighbor pull into her driveway. I gave a muffled sigh when he pulled out, but quickly realized why. As much as I enjoy "the thrill of getting caught," I don't actually WANT to get caught. At least not by her.

Before I knew it, my man had my robe pooled beneath me on the concrete. He nibbled on my neck and shoulders as I sank to the ground on my hands and knees. We fucked under the stars with our neighbor maybe 100 feet away. It was somewhat surreal and very fun--and definitely hot. When he came, he grabbed my hand and brought me inside to do it all over again.

dessert in bed

Mr. S. and I just purchased Honey Dust online from edenfantasys. Next week can't get here fast enough!

Neither of us is very big on food with sex. I had a bad experience with whipped cream once and he has never expressed interest in helping me to overcome my fears. We were both a bit intrigued by the idea of Honey Dust, though, so I placed the order today. Even if the powder isn't tasty or pretty-smelling, that feather duster might be fun.

My next goal will be to find some tasty treats to use during oral. I do enjoy giving my man a good blowjob, but if I could somehow get his cock to taste like a cherry jolly rancher, I think I'd be going down a lot more often. Ha! The only catch would be the cum shot. Because I can guarantee that cherry-flavored cum is no more fun than the original flavor.

Of course, I could tie all this back to my kitchen fantasy, but somehow pulling foods out of the fridge or going from item to item seems silly to me, if not a little close to a food fight. Mmmm, baby, I'm gonna swirl leftover spaghetti all over your tits. Uh, yeah. We'll stick with dessert.