Sugasm #107

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #108? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

Half-Nekkid Blow Job” We could hear people walking past and talking so they’d be able to hear us as well.”

Masturbation on a Memory“I let the first time I had sex with your flash back though my mind.”

Reality Check: Handling Long Calls“While I get my share of quick cummer calls I have several clients that like to talk for hours.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself Christian Friis

Editor’s Choice A Non-Monogamy Lexicon

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Originally posted 2007-11-29 00:45:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Back to Blenheim

I was here before nearly forty years ago.

Blenheim, the powerhouse of two of the nation’s most famous generals. The Duke of Marlborough and Winston Churchill.

This time, I am here with my own army. My Ruf.

And the voyage of discovery is beginning to clear away the mists of time.

I am starting to behave differently around my family, although they still try to snatch at my legs as I heave my way out of the hole. They want to drag me back in.

What’s different about Ruf is that he met me before he met them.

With my first husband, he was already part of the crowd of my family’s friends.

So he knew me as the quiet one, the butt of the jokes.

And he was not strong enough to fight against their behaviour. He just joined in. Or said nothing and let me suffer alone.

Ruf is different. He knows the real Joanna Cake. Sure, I have my faults but I am not the person that I become when I am around my family.

Defensive, insular, resentful, always waiting for the next dig.

And he is going to help me to finally break out of that mould.

Whilst we are at Blenheim, we receive a communication from my sister. She has ‘friended’ Ruf on Facebook and her first action is to copy him in on a message giving instructions on things that I should be doing! The reason? Because I have stopped replying to her missives. I am not behaving as she thinks I should. So she will try to command Ruf to make this happen.

She doesn’t know what she is taking on.

Together, we can stop my predictable reaction to her behaviour.

I can see the rest of my life opening up before me.

Full of possibility.

I am about to break free and it is a revelation.

Problems With Long Distance Relationships

"problems-with-long-distance-relationships"“I now miss you so much, it’s officially become unbearable”

I knew exactly what Ruf’s text meant.

That emptiness in the chest reaches a point where it is almost a physical pain. One of the problems with long distance relationships.

We are only half way into an enforced five week hiatus. The longest we have been apart in months.

It’s all very well saying that we can have cyber sex or listen to each other masturbate over the telephone and that would have been enough before because we had no choice, there was no other way but secret liaisons slotted into busy schedules.

But it’s no longer sufficient. Not when we’ve had the joy of uninterrupted weeks of togetherness. We have tasted heaven and now we have to go back to purgatory.

Silent, empty and alone.

I could sit here and write reams about how badly I want him. How my heart aches for him and my skin demands him.

Like an addict, shivering from withdrawal, anticipates the next fix, I crave his presence.

But, instead, I must press on, immerse myself in work to try to ignore the ever increasing pangs and numb the gnawing fingers of my desire.

Naturally, I wank. Well, it’s part of my job, of course.

It serves only to take the edge off.

This is an urge with a deep root and, like an iceberg, it is what’s underneath that causes the real problems.

I need recharging and there’s only one hub with the proper connection.

I am running on empty.

Originally posted 2010-12-13 06:29:01. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Magical Wandage for Stressed Out Sex Goddesses

magic wandThe Magic Wand in my sidebar is still my vibrator of choice.

It must be seven or eight years old now but it’s still going strong.

All I need to do is change the four A4 batteries every now and then.

I can guarantee that, no matter how stressed I am, that baby can bring me to orgasm in less than two minutes.

There’s hardly even time for a fantasy to formulate in my head.

It’s oooh, ahhh, exhale and relax into it. Then lie back and feel the rejuvenating effects.

For a time poor former sex goddess, that’s reliability you have to take advantage of.

And it is so good for your body too! Energising me even if I was ready to drop beforehand.

Click here to get yours!

Improvisation

Fleshbotted

At first he was kind. He made me climb onto the bottom step of a small ladder before cuffing me to the horizontal chin bar fixed in his door frame. Then he got a cotton belt and secured my other wrist. And another belt like a tie with a big Windsor knot around my neck.

As I looked at him curiously, awaiting the next development, he produced the plastic spatula with a flourish and a ‘ta-da’ which made me smile… with a certain amount of trepidation.

The ‘thwack’ as the flat part made contact with my bottom confirmed my suspicions that my first foray into bondage and pain might not be such a pleasurable experience.

After a short time inflicting discomfort upon my derriere, he flipped the tool over and inserted the handle inside me, all the time, flicking casually at my clit with his fingers.

Waiting for me to come, before kicking the step away and starting to flog me more determinedly. I hung there, defenceless, for some time, as he beat the soft butt cheeks until they were glowing pink. The belt around my neck was tightening but not dangerously so. My toes unable to reach the ground, the pressure on my shoulders from taking the whole weight of my body was becoming acutely uncomfortable and if I loosened my grip of the bar and relied on the cuffs to support me, they cut into my wrists. So I clung on stoically when he slid his fingers into me and fucked me with them.

After a while, I forgot the pain and submerged myself in the pleasure. My knees came up to accommodate the passage of his digits, whilst the tension grew inside me until I thought I would burst. My body throbbed and a curious weightlessness engulfed me. I was aware of enjoying the feeling of suspension as opposed to being grounded against the bed. Simultaneously slapping with the spatula and probing with his fingers, he broke the resistance within me and I had no choice but to melt all over his hand with a shuddering sigh.

When he had finished admiring his handiwork, he replaced the step beneath my feet and helped me down, before carefully washing and drying the implement and replacing it in the cutlery drawer.

It makes me smile when I see it there because I know, whatever happens in the future, whenever he sees that piece of equipment, he will think of me.

Originally posted 2009-09-15 10:48:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

The Missing Sex

Ruf and I joke about our missing sex life.

It resurfaces occasionally but, mostly, I am too tired and stressed to feel even remotely sexy.

He does his best to resurrect my libido by complimenting me at every opportunity.

I know that I am still beautiful physically – and could be even more so if I had time to do more physical activity.

But time is the one resource I never seem to have.

And so things have to change.

I want to be that woman who longed for his touch, could not wait for him to be in the same room and become intimate with him.

My lack of sex drive is not to do with proximity and familiarity.

It is to do with energy levels.

But supposing my work suddenly required the need to write about sex?

What if I got paid to think sexy again?

Now there is a conundrum!

Cross your fingers…

Movie Clip Wednesday: Worst Casting Choice

Hmmm. Difficult one. I even went online to see what other people had said in the past… the consensus seems to be John Wayne playing Genghis Khan in The Conquerer.

I asked Ruf and, after complaining bitterly that it was a very difficult question, announced Dick Van Dyke. By which I assume he means in Mary Poppins… That is NOT a cockney accent!

For me, I would have to say Scarlett Johannson in The Other Boleyn Girl. Not because she was a bad actress but purely for the fact that I don’t believe a raven-haired temptress like Anne Boleyn would have had such a blonde sister. And the choice of the gorgeous Eric Bana as the middle-aged King Henry is also way off the mark. Richard Burton’s portrayal in Anne of the Thousand Days was far more believeable.

Originally posted 2010-05-05 04:07:55. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Does a French dating site encourage married women to cheat?

Interesting headline on the BBC’s Facebook page.

Continue reading Does a French dating site encourage married women to cheat?

Mystery Bugs

By the time Ruf went back for the first Villa game of the season on Saturday, I was feeling quite a lot better.

Sure, I was still very tired and eating even a few mouthfuls of porridge required a lie down to aid digestion but I’d stopped feeling permanently nauseous and the sweating and shivering had stopped.

As far as I was concerned, I was on the mend and just needed to focus on eating little and often to try to get my strength (and weight) back up.

Which is why I was so despondent to wake up at 5am on Sunday morning shivering violently.  It was back to the hot water bottles and the sweats but, when I got up and started moving around, I could feel a strange discomfort working its way up both sides of my back.  Classic symptoms of a water infection affecting the kidneys.  I had no strength left to fight anything else.  It was time to admit defeat and call in the professionals.  I got the appointment relatively easily, had the diagnosis confirmed and came away armed with my prescription for antibiotics.

But the doctor had no idea what had caused the inner turmoil of the previous five days.  It could have been the forerunner of this but, to me, it’s completely different and seems more likely to be a result of not being able to drink enough water when I was ill.

Mystery bugs, where the doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong with you, are inevitably put down to ‘a virus’.

Me, I think burning the candle at both ends for the last few weeks left me run down.  When I went to stay with Ruf, I got out of routine and forgot to take the vitamins that normally keep my system relatively healthy.  It could have taken just the slightest thing to tip me over the edge and now I have to be particularly careful to recuperate properly without rushing back into the same old bad habits.

I don’t think the stress of Ruf’s  impending meeting with my children and then with my sister is helping either.

It’s not that I’m worried that they won’t like each other per se.

I’m just not feeling in control.  There are too many things that could go wrong.

I am, as Ruf would say, fretting… and I don’t think that is helping my recovery.

Originally posted 2010-08-17 19:36:52. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Lost HNT

It is with great distress that I announce the loss of all my HNT pictures.

Some months ago, I transferred to new hosting but I thought all the images were still there. Certainly, my header and all the images in my sidebar continued to show.

However, today, I realised that I would have to accommodate the latest changes to Google for mobile.

So I updated the Atahualpa theme and the header disappeared. I thought I would find it again in my media library and changed the theme to WordPress Fifteen.

But, in those two actions, everything seems to have gone from my media library.

Anyone got any clues?

I had set them to private some years ago. I was concerned about them falling into the wrong hands.

But I never intended for them to not be seen again.

I had hoped to cheer myself with them in my fading years.

I am grieving but will have to adjust.

Childhood Execution

I have been having a lot of therapy recently.

I was trying to sort out my head for the impending first Christmas without my children. Which, of course, would be fine if they were spending the festive season with their own families.

But they are not. They are spending it with their father.

Yes, and that is fine too.

What is not fine is that my sister has invited him and my children to her house.

And not invited me.

What she expected was for me to call up and vent my spleen so she could put me in my place about how selfish I am, especially after all she has done for me. And then to cry silently and disconsolately on my own. Unsupported and desperate for family security.

But this year was different. With Ruf’s support. Continue reading Childhood Execution

Movie Clip Wednesday – Favourite Animation

Boxer selected ‘Favourite Animation’ this week.

So hard. I always loved the Disney stuff and, of course, Toy Story was also a particular favourite when the kids were small.

From tv in my childhood, Tom and Jerry – although it had to be directed by Fred Quimby.  I always loved the little duck who shouted ‘Mama’ but I couldn’t find it on YouTube.

The Whacky Races, The Flintstones, Top Cat, Secret Squirrel, Scooby Doo – these were highlights of my televisual week.

As a grown-up, I also loved the start of Ice Age, which I believe was the trailer when it was first on its way.

And, of course, whilst I’d rather watch the originals than any animation, there still had to be some Star Trek…

Originally posted 2010-03-23 23:24:59. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Women Wanking – Yanks

"Women Wanking"I don’t think it’s any secret that I am one of the many ladies who enjoy masturbation.

Although, of course, I was a very late starter – being well into my forties before I ever started fiddling around down there.

The guys at Yanks asked if I would help to promote their site about female masturbation and, because I am a firm believer that no other woman should be deprived of this seminal pleasure for as long as I was, I agreed to help them out.

Yanks is a site that has interviews with women talking about their masturbatory techniques and videos of them actually wanking.

It’s not for the faint hearted… but I guess there might be one or two of you out there who might enjoy such things…

*Walks away whistling*

Originally posted 2011-04-01 10:07:45. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Thomas Cromwell vs Thomas More

The other unusual duel depicted in Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall was between Thomas Cromwell and Sir Thomas More.

More was the pillar of wisdom in King Henry VIII’s childhood and, throughout the centuries, has been viewed as a much loved figure who dreamed of a better society in his book, Utopia.

Robert Bolt’s play was made into a film, A Man For All Seasons telling the story of a wise, kind, man determined to stay true to his faith and the law.

He was even canonised to become St Thomas More by the Roman Catholic Church in 1935.

But, for Hilary Mantel, he was evil incarnate. The public face hiding his unabashed enjoyment of torturing and burning Protestants to make them recant and turn back to ‘the true faith’

Continue reading Thomas Cromwell vs Thomas More

Voicemail

“This is Staff Sergeant Tom Caldicott. I can’t get to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you

Sitting alone in her hotel room, she replaced the receiver carefully and tried to distract herself with her book. Anything to stop thinking about him. She knew that when he was in his office, one of those technical jamming devices, so beloved of the military, meant that mobile phones were inoperational and so she was at liberty to listen to him say those words whenever she pleased.

The timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine and she could feel the familiar heat moistening the triangle between her legs. His dominance was almost complete in that he could excite her when he wasn’t even there.

There was an imbalance and it needed to be rectified. She knew that she had to restore equality, regain some form of control.

And the idea came to her.

Thinking back to their last encounter at the party, she smiled. After a year apart, his previous denial of the depth of their attraction had been completely overturned and he had given in to his own desperate lust. Ambushing her in the corridor and spreadeagling her in the most insalubrious of surroundings, before burying his face between her legs until she had no choice but to succumb. Gushing her appreciation over his face as she acknowledged their mutual need with the word that had become synonymous with his victory.

Time constraints and his mental compartmentalisation that if he didn’t actually penetrate her with his cock again, it wasn’t technically infidelity had seen him debase her as some kind of wank fodder. Thick, hot, sticky semen spurting over her belly and breasts. And then the ultimate indignity as he reclothed her over the top of it. She had had to remain at the party for hours afterwards conscious of his fluids causing her dress to adhere to any proximate flesh as she moved. And watch him work the room as they ignored each other.

He was a bastard. But he was her bastard. And it was her turn to retaliate.

Choosing her toy with care, she let herself lie back on the bed and relax into the moment. Feeling her arousal as it grew, enveloping her in a warm glow of self-satisfied pleasure. She thought about the moment that he would have to relieve himself as a result of her next offensive and she smiled at the effect such an image had on her nether regions.

Her excitement growing, she tweaked the dial on the vibrator jammed against her clit, ramping up the power and consequentially increasing the volume of liquid squelching between her legs.

At the optimum moment, she dialled the number again and heard his voice:

“This is Staff Sergeant Tom Caldicott. I can’t get to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you

Her normally clipped British tones whispered huskily and carefully into the receiver. Staccato words that slurred together towards the end as the energy feeding her orgasm took the power from her vocal chords and into her cunt.

‘Hello… I… can’t… stop… thinking… about… you… and… thisiswhathappens…’

She knew that he would insist on a rather more detailed description of the scenario and so she tried again.

‘Tulip… clit… fingers… arse… cunt’

As the ability to communicate verbally began to fail, she turned and positioned the phone on the pillow in front of her, then knelt and spread her thighs as wide as possible. Whilst the tulip vibrated her swollen clit, taking her closer and closer to the edge, she reached behind her to lubricate her ring finger with her own juices and delicately inserted it into the pert rosebud of her bottom, before penetrating her pussy with the two digits above it. Then vigorously probed both holes simultaneously.

Within seconds, she was overwhelmed and the call degenerated into the buzzing of the motor and her uncontrollable moans as the climax began.

The time allowed for the answerphone message expired and the click terminated the connection milliseconds after she had whispered the word that signified her orgasm.

…Chief…

From her vacation 3,000 miles away, she knew what effect it was going to have and that retribution would follow swiftly upon her return.

Originally posted 2009-07-14 02:44:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter