One of my blog posts is in Sugasm (an "informal sex blog network") this week. Here are some selections from other blogs on the list...

This Week's Picks

You’re So Dirty When You’re Clean. (http://middleurge.blogspot.com)
“The side of your hand slipping along her pussy lips. Her laugh, a mix of I-knew-it and do-that-more.”

Before ( http://thismuse.blogspot.com)
“Condoms and lube go into the bedside drawer next to the Bible. Purse into the drawer with clothes, whore-bag into the closet with my street shoes.”

Rude Bits: Tracy Quan on the Raunch Debate (http://susiebright.blogs.com)
“If someone is making money off your body, you should too.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sex Mad(ness) (http://sugarbank.com)

Editor’s Choice
The art of pegs (some artistic CBT)
( http://mistress160.blogspot.com)

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm


my favorite craigslist m4w posting ever


And there will be lots of adventures, sniffing through glasses and past lips and: Woody Allen said if sex isn't dirty then you're not doing it right: I agree. There doesn't have to be sex, though. Just, at least, a clicking. Great musics listened-to and great books read-discussed and great movies seen-lived and sweating--cause of the adventuring and etc's. Bothered-by-a-big-ol'-moon walks; dinner-thru-night-till-tomorrow experiences--boozy, maybe, I mean, doesn't have to be. The air Cat-Power's-voice-smokey--good stuff, you know. Taffy-streched mystery, never, you know, outted in the beginning--but teased and really fun. Rollings and tumblings and weird crystal-ball-refracted moments you only get in extremis. Odd-but-still-pretty-and-specific-faced people laughing-out unboring stories: everything weird-mooded, florid; you--terrifically experienced and novel-inspired after answering this and adventuring up up up and setting down somewhere new--sexed (not necessarily literally) and through the fugue and chilled to the cockle. You know: if you wanna answer. No arm-twistin's here. Let's. This is expressionistic just cause I want to meet the specifics who would answer an add like this. Pics and that, too.

hotel 3

Yes, I know. What happened to "hotel 2"?

Well, the local boys and girls got me last night. Went out wandering around this odd little city. Danced, drank, flirted, danced some more. I wish I could tell you something about myself that would make this story so much more interesting - but, alas... I can't.

But I can say that I ended up at a heartbreaking little karaoke bar (but then, karaoke always breaks my heart... so much earnestness) where a woman was singing a country western song. She must have been in her early twenties, with shoulder length dark hair, big eyes and hips, and wearing tennis shoes. Clearly a lesbian - or, at least, clear to me.

I could not stop staring at her. Could. Not. Velcro eyeballs. On her.

After she put the mic back in the stand and went back to her friends, I had to rip my pupils off of her so that I wouldn't appear to be the raving lunatic stalker that I was so close to becoming. No idea why, suddenly, all I wanted - all I want - is a woman. All over me. And this is all I could think about all day.

And, in some way, the universe, as it often does, provided. At lunch, a woman I had not noticed before, and who is here attending the same event that I am, came over and sat at my table. We made small talk about the event, but, given today's private obsession, I felt like all I could do was look at the curve of her neck, her hands, her lips. She is from the north of England and had a slightly raunchy sense of humor. We were laughing loudly by the end of the meal.

As dessert was arriving, she suddenly said that she had seen me earlier and felt like she wanted to meet me. For a second, it was awkward. I was trying to read behind what she was saying - same sex interactions are, if there is even a hint of the erotic involved, so muffled by layers of water-testing. Is she? Could she be?

I was still taking it in when she got up to leave. We had been talking about going out to an Irish pub nearby, so it didn't seem odd that she asked for my room number, saying that she will call later to see if I am still up for going.

I had to sit and listed to a presentation for about an hour after that, and I was vibrating. I did that delicious thing where I innocently crossed my legs, draping my sweater over my lap, my hands in full view on the table taking notes, while I pulsed my inner thighs and vaginal muscles until I was on the edge of an orgasm. I just kept imagine what her breasts would feel like against my skin, against my tongue. And yes, sometimes I would think of you watching.

But at the last minute, I didn't cum. And now, several hours later, here I sit. Still damp, and wondering if she will call later. I will, of course, keep you well informed.

Going to take a nap now. And I will be very, very good. Very, very, very, very good.


hotel 1

Arrived. Started stripping the second the door shut behind me. Took a bath. Ordered room service. Got in bed, a huge king-sized expanse of white sheets with me in the middle, fingers brushing my already wet, wet...

I've brought myself to the edge about three times, stopping at the last minute. My hands smell of my juices, nipples poised... waiting...

Three more days...



I will be traveling again this weekend and in a hotel room on Friday, Saturday and Sunday night.

You know what this means.



Whenever I need to cum, I get an
ache in my lower belly that extends in a warm wave
to my clit and then
separates out to my inner thighs.

I have come to think that when this happens,
if it happens in public,
small molecules of "fuck me" begin to
leap off of my skin and travel through the air and are
breathed in by
unsuspecting victims who suddenly find their eyes on
my belly,
if I haven't mentioned this five hundred times before,
is smooth and flat and toned and today on the train

my hand was

drawn to it.
Just lighting there for a minute,
a bit too low.
Thumb disappearing
under my waistband and he just

could not take his eyes off of it.

Fluttering away, coming back, small bulge,
now larger.

I can help it.
I just don't want to.
I want him to think of me when he gets home,
fly unzipped before the door closes behind him,
cock springing out,
keys falling to the floor as he leans against the wall
imagining the way my legs were open just a



Whew. Last week just about killed me. In a good way. I think I blew out my new vibrator already! Someone suggested it might be the full moon. Whatever it was, if I could bottle it, I could retire early.

So. Ready?

For the next few months, or more, I won't be reading or answering most of the emails I receive.

You see, this is how it goes. I open the door every once and awhile and let people in. And this is fine, even great, for awhile. But then, eventually, too many people come in (I sometimes get over a hundred emails in a day) and I start to lose the sense of each individual person. I don't have time to spend actually doing what I want to do, which is, well, making you cum in several different ways.

In addition, I end up spending more and more time making small talk and much too little time with people who have actually come to value my time and want to... go deeper, so to speak.

I have had a very, very (VERY) wonderful time getting to know people over the last few weeks, but now the door is closing. I will keep writing here of course, but other than that, for the next few months, on the days when I am around to talk, I will send out a note only to the people on my NF list or post a note for them here. If I do read/respond to any email, it will only be email from people on the list - and even that will be rare and in order of, well.. preference.

If you don't know what this list thing is and want to find out more, or if you know what it is, but are not sure if you are on it, you can email me anytime and put the word "list" in the subject line so I know to open it. And I completely understand, as always, if it is not for you.

I have to remind myself every once and awhile, why I first started doing this almost a year ago. Among other things, the point was to find a way to free up my time to do my more creative, less moneymaking things (like write and make art). I also want to get to know a few people very well, and save the best of myself for them, not spread myself all over the place to people who do not always... get me.

You can get hot email exchanges, and even explicit chat, almost anywhere. You can only get me here. I am aching to cum for you, or to make you explode, or to be or do whatever you want. But maybe nothing truly wonderful is free.

(For those of you who want it free anyway, you are, of course, free enjoy my posts here. As I've said a million times, the thought of you reading my words - cock swelling, reddening, straining against your pants - is what makes the process of writing so deeply pleasurable. I wish you many, many urgent and mindblowing orgasms.)

More soon...