Unfortunately that all changed this morning when I got to work. My boss got some bullshit complaint about an issue I worked on. An issue that I stayed over for and also worked on a little bit on my own time, even after I left the building for the day. Then to make matters worse he tells me how to do my job. What the Fuck? He is younger than me and I have more technical experience than he does. He became a stupidvisor and he is now acting just like a stupid advisor. This really irked me and yes I let it ruin my day. To add insult to injury someone else fixed the problem and he asked me to contact that person and find out what they did differently so that I would know next time. To top the matter off he had the entire conversation by Same Time (instant messenger). He couldn't face me. Why? Because this was something he should have squashed and I should have never even known about it. But because some big wig got involved and my boss is afraid that they will demote him, he acts the brute part. I felt like saying, if this is all you have got on me, then I'd say I'm doing really good and you have nothing to worry about.

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I was incredibly charged with sexual energy . I was already semi-hard in anticipation of what my body was craving. I lubed my Eupho with a thin layer of vaseline and a thicker coat of KY jelly, inserted the unit, and laid very still on my side. After a few moments, I began gentle anal contractions. It was not long before I felt the onset of my first orgasm. I began slow rythmic anal and rectal contractions which put me over the edge. Waves of orgasmic pleasure came one after the other. The prostate vibrations were stronger and more intense than ever. The Super-Os I experienced were sublime and continued for nearly an hour before I decided to see what would happen if I switched to my MGX.

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She dialed his number and crossed her fingers. Ring one. Ring two. Ring three. Ring four. Then his message telling her that he wasn’t available but asking her to leave a message anyway. She started to hang up but decided against it.
“Hello, Sir. You know who this is and you know what I want. You know how to reach me, how to touch me, and how to make me do anything your heart desires. I was thinking of showing instead of telling but you’re not available. Call me when you are.”
She flipped her phone closed and pulled her robe tighter around her. She stared out the window and watched the falling leaves swirl and sway in the wind. It crossed her mind to have a bit of pride, to not let on how much the man had gotten to her but she was powerless against it. When she’d handed her submission to him, she’d handed him her heart as well.
The grandfather clock in the hall struck ten and she willed herself to move from the sofa. A November rain had dampened the city and soon snow would come in its place. She checked the lock on the front door, blew out the candles on the foyer table, and made her way into her room. She laid her phone on the nightstand and turned out the lamp. The robe slipped from her shoulders and onto the floor as she slipped between the cool cotton sheets. Since she met him she was only allowed to sleep nude and even if he wasn’t there to check up on her, she did as she was told. In a few minutes she was fast asleep.
She awoke with with a start, completely aware of the scent of leather and the tightness about her wrists. She tried to scream but couldn’t. Gagged. Someone had gagged her. Mentally she wondered if she had forgotten to lock her door then she wondered who would have gagged her.
“I’m sorry to have awakened you. I tried to fuck you in your sleep but you fought me.”
The whisper in her ear made her tremble in fear, but as his face came into view she was relieved. It was him. Instead of calling he had come to her. He had used the key she had given him when she moved in. She relaxed a little more but couldn’t help but wonder what he had in store for her. It wasn’t like him to show up unannounced in the middle of the night.
“Don’t try to figure it out. You won’t. The things I do have little to do with reason or rationality. They have everything to do with my desires. MY desires. Not yours. And it is my desire to see you bound and gagged because perhaps then you will see that you are the mouse and I am the cat. You are my slut, my plaything. Though it certainly is flattering that a beautiful whore such as yourself desires me, I do not care what you desire. That is not why I chose you.” With that he moved his face closer to hers and stared into her eyes. “I chose you because you were easy. You willingly gave yourself to me.”
He stood upright and clasped his hands behind his back. His gaze traveled the length of her naked body then back again. His eyes met hers and she quickly looked away. Without a word he left the room and left her as she was.
She struggled against the gag. Her bladder was full and holding it when she was scared was proving to be a challenge. She jerked and thrust against the gag with her tongue, trying without success to spit it out. His footsteps echoed down the hall and she stilled. Without looking up she knew he was back in the room.
“Do not struggle. Do not speak. Knowing you as I do, I’m certain your bladder is full to overflowing. Right now you’re wishing for a small reprieve so that you may use the bathroom, so that you may piss in that respectable little girl fashion with the water running and the door pulled shut behind you. And wish for it you may, but you won’t get it. Instead I have placed a towel beneath you. Under the towel is a rubber pad to keep from ruining those cotton sheets you love so much. You, my dear little cock tease are to piss right where you lay.”
She swallowed hard and tried for the briefest moment to convince herself that she had misheard him. She couldn’t possibly urinate in front of him, much less on her bed. As she struggled to tell him no, to be heard through the gag, she was aware of his movements.
The flogger landed on her breasts and she cried out. Not from pain but from surprise. They hadn’t discussed floggers or the possibility of their use. Her mind couldn’t process it quickly enough and she felt a second blow land on her other breast. He smiled a soft smile and placed a rubber ball in her hand.
“You were told to piss. You will receive alternating strikes to each breast until you do as you were told. It humiliates you, I know. It will also humble you and remind you of your place. In the event that you feel as if this is too much for you, you are required to use the ball as you would use your safe word. Drop it if you can’t handle doing what your Master has told you to do.”
She cried but she knew she could not drop the ball. She was not being harmed. She trusted him even when he surprised her with his actions. He had been patient with her and when they discussed taking things further she had agreed. With her mind made up she closed her eyes and willed herself to urinate.
“That’s my good girl. That’s my pet. It feels much better now, doesn’t it? To have released the piss that made you so uncomfortable. Your punishment is almost complete but you must listen carefully. In addition to what you have just done, to the blows you have received, there are two more parts to your punishment. Look at me!”
The seriousness in his voice alone would have made her look at him. Their eyes met and she knew that he was demanding the most of her. She saw his love and respect for her shining through the bright blue of his eyes and her heart swelled with love.
“You will receive ten more blows on various parts of your body. When I am finished with the final blow I will remove your gag. I will then fuck you in a way that I have never fucked you before, pet. I will lube your delectable little pucker and fuck your ass. I will take my time and I will be as gentle as I can. You can be assured that I will enjoy having the ass that belongs to me. However, as before, if it is more than you are willing to do or if it causes you an intense amount of pain and absolutely no pleasure, you are to drop the ball. I will enjoy hearing you scream and beg while I fuck you. So the ball is to continue you to be your safe word. Is that understood?”
She swallowed hard and nodded. She felt the bed shift under his weight as he knelt between her legs. The flogger landed twice against each of her thighs then twice more against each of her arms. The final two blows from his flogger landed squarely on the lips of her exposed cunt. She was ashamed at the expletives that she had yelled.
She heard him lay down the flogger and wondered if he would be gentle. He took the gag from her mouth and kissed her deeply before rocking back on his knees. The slick coolness of the lubricant caused her to gasp out loud. She moaned as his fingers teased and probed her hole gently.
“My cock is hard for you, slut. It is my ass to fuck and fuck it I will.”
With the head of his cock pushing past the entrance of her virgin ass and his hands spreading her legs wide she felt as if she might be ripped in two. She wasn’t tiny but his cock was huge in comparison to her puckered hole. A scream tore from her lips and her breathing was erratic.
“You feel so good, pet. Your tight little hole stretched around my throbbing cock. Can you feel it, whore? Can you feel how hard you make me? How bad I want you?”
She bit her lip and tasted blood. Her nipples were hard and she felt the initial pain start to subside. His fingers rubbed her clit and she could feel the wetness of her cunt mingled with the urine that was left on her labia. It was a heady combination and she couldn’t help but beg for him to fuck her.
“That’s it, whore. Beg for my cock. Open your eyes and watch me as I fuck your ass. Smell the scent of us, slut.”
With one last thrust he buried his cock in her ass. As he emptied his seed into her bowels the tears fell from her eyes and she felt her own climax take hold. The higher they climbed the faster she fell. “I love you, Master! I fucking love you!” The sobs wracked her body and she felt his cock slip from her newly stretched ass.
He laid against the length of her and loosened the leather at her wrists. His warmth blanketed her as his lips found hers. He gathered her to him and held on tightly. She knew she was coming down and she knew he was there to catch her.
“I love you too, pet. I love you too.”
He gathered her from the bed and half carried, half ushered her to the bathroom. As the tub filled she sat on his lap with her head against his chest and listened to the beat of his heart. He kissed the top of her head then turned them both around to slip into the hot water.
“I love you, pet. You know who I am and you know what I want. You know how to reach me, how to touch me, and how to make me do anything your heart desires. I got your message, but I wanted to show instead of tell.”
*This is a work of fictioneven if I wish it were not.

LUCKY TWICE
you can fool yourself
i promise it will help
now every single day
i just wanna hear you saying
laughing through the day
thnkj i n g yo i are hev dr boring(?)
speeding through the night
mha ybe jo noh do unt hge morning(?)
theres nothing you can do
to keep it out
theres nothing you can do
just scream and shout
living for today but you just cant find tomorrow
galiin g bout joy
but it never stops the sorrow
theres nothing you can do
to keep it out
theres nothing you can do
just scream and shout
saying
Im
so lucky lucky
Im
so lucky lucky
Im
so lovely lovely
Im
so lovely lovely
you can fool yourself
i promise it will help
now every single day
i just wanna hear you saying
Im
so lucky lucky
Im
so lucky lucky
Im
so lovely lovely
Im
so lovely lovely
you can fool yourself
i promise it will help
now every single day
i just wanna hear you saying
even though you said
lt wold never ens ifs over
you were smiling on my arm
jw yuoer crying oh mmy shoulder
theres nothing you can do
to keep it out
theres nothing you can do
just scream and shout
saying
Im
so lucky lucky
Im
so lucky lucky
Im
so lovely lovely
Im
so lovely lovely
you can fool yourself
i promise it will help
now every single day
i just wanna hear you saying
Im
so lucky lucky
Im
so lucky lucky
Im
so lovely lovely
Im
so lovely lovely
you can fool yourself
i promise it will help
now every single day
i just wanna hear you saying
y cqn nesvr sbe forever
good together (?)
now and clever (.

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Yesterday Mina and I attended a wedding together. The wedding was of a dear friend of hers, Valerie, from her workplace, and the person who really welcomed her to her current place of work, and a person who is now laid off. They are still friends though, and have always been close. Ive met Valerie a few times, and shes one of those big, brassy personalities that just dares you to keep up with her. She is charismatic in that worn, but ballsy way that people who have been around enough blocks not to give a shit what you think are. Valerie was marrying her girlfriend of 14 years, Joan, something that has only been possible since the spring here in California.
Of course, one would think the scandalous nature of seeing the bride and bride together would be the story of this wedding. But, from having been there, I will tell you that it was not what I will take away. Sure, there was some fun humor from it, and from trying to find a card for the wedding (Hallmark has not caught up to California yet) to noticing the various tweaks to the traditional vows and jewelry. But, I have been to a lot of weddings in my time as photographers assistant that were a little off, between featuring a fresh-tattooed bride, a groom chewing gum at the altar, vows being taken under a basketball hoop, and so many other oh-my-God twists to the concept that I am a little jaded. And, as some people have noticed, Im a dude. I dont generally get emotional watching other people dressed up in clothes they never wear again reciting lines they dont really think about.
This time, however, I was genuinely moved to tears as I watched the barely-contained elation with which Valerie and Joan took their vows. The extra smiling emphasis on the word lawfullly, the tearful smile with which the word wife was said, and the powerful gravity between the two of them to embrace at any moment. Like any couple who has been together for so long, theyve seen a lot, and the world has certainly left its marks on them. But these two people, weathered as they are, had found an amazing, youthful joy, like your first kiss raised to the power of a child being born, and their eyes were positively aglow, and their joy, not just happiness, but simple joy, was genuinely infectious, and I couldnt help but cry happy tears with them, tears that are welling up again now as I write this.
To this day, of all the weddings I have seen, (and even the one I was front and center on) I have never felt this kind of joy that affected me by simply basking in the glow of their happiness. When the day comes for Mina and I, I hope we feel as happy as they did. I hope we even feel half of it. It was a wonderful time to see their family finally come together on the same footing as so many of the rest of us have taken for granted since time immemorial.

Now, in California, we are faced with Proposition 8, which eliminate the right for couples like Valerie and Joan to share this wondrous joy. The right exists right now, and it is completely constitutional and recognized. Even if the proposition passes, their marriage will still be legally recognized, but no one else will be able to follow. We are faced with the preposterous idea that we need to use our state constitution to deny a certain class of society a right granted to everyone else. Although our nations constitution was once written acknowledging our original sin of slavery, every time we have chosen to amend that document, we have only expanded our right and granted more freedom (with the exception of 18th amendment, we took the trouble to repeal). And today, there are people who want to take rights away from others, who exercise of this right does no harm to anyone. They have succeeded in many, many states in writing discrimination into their constitution for crass political gain. As of today, the polls in California say that Proposition 8 will fail, and all people can marry the person they love in California.
I respectfully submit that any person who bore witness to the radiant joy between Valerie and Joan would know better than to snatch this away from another person.

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Hi, kids. We haven't had a catch-up chat for a while, have we?

I'd love to have something brilliant to write for you today. Really. I got nothing. So you can leave now if it's profundity you seek. For you, good lasses and sirs, I offer a serving of vapidity.

See, I spent my whole weekend huffing Lysol, questing to kill bugs, and doing one of the deepest apartment cleans ever (but there's still more work to do -- the storage unit, cleaning the oven... does it ever end?). Mental faculties? Not so much.

I do, however, have a faint eau de sterilized green apple Lysol-ly scent wafting off me this morning. I'm fresh AND germ-free! And I think I still hear braincells popping off to their chemically-induced deaths in the back of my cerebellum. "No, Lenny! Don't jump! The air's clearing, really!"

Curse you, bugs, for the damage thou hath wrought upon me!

And despite wanting to turtle naked and lazily under my blankie as the warm sun beats down on me in bed as the should-be ease of this day washes over me, the reality is, I'm pretty close to hopping on my bike to suffer another 45 minutes of labour as I moan and groan my way up the steep-ass hills of this town on my way in to what will finally be some PAID work. For seven hours. Followed by more cycling.

Today could well be the last hot day of the year. Hopefully not. But it'd be wrong to let it pass by without sucking the marrow from it and enjoying every last bead of sweat I can muster out of this late-season gift .

My "kicking ass and taking names" summer became derailed after July 17th, when I came down with bad bronchitis that kept me from cardio for nearly a month. I had one valiant week then where I cycled four times in mid-August, but then I got insomnia, where I had 40 hours sleep in about 15 nights, followed by a week at work with overtime. Needless to say, I haven't found my rhythm in weeks.

I did get a good cycling week in last week but had aimed for four days of it, but saw Mr. Cockroach on Thursday night and resolved to do the Molly Maid/Rambo thing this weekend instead. Again, derailed. Three's good, though, and I can make this week a second in a row.

It's Monday now, a whole new week, and no matter how much it kills me, it's on, baby. Music's recharging, cycle bag's packed, sun's stoking the fire. It's a great day for it.

I found myself thinking a lot about when I did a cleaning frenzy like this in March, though, when I totally gutted and cleaned my place, and resolved to spend the next six months being very active. I did a pretty good job of it -- the cleaning and the six months. So I found myself perceiving my weekend as a setting of the stage upon which the next six months of life will unfold.

It's a pretty great way to get perspective on blowing away one of the nicest sunny September weekends I ever recall in Vancouver.

Vancouver, for those who don't know, vacillates between a sunshiney Eden and the downpours of the most urban rainforest in the world. Surrounded by impressive mountains yielding insane snowboarding within 10 minutes of downtown, the local geography hems in any rainclouds -- the weather amassed from the long journey over the Pacific, usually up from Hawaii, falls down on this often-soggy urban jewel before the clouds weaken and leave the for the Prairies, which will be left arid, on their travels eastward. "September" is often something not to be banked upon in this town -- make sure your travel agent knows. Summer ostensibly ends August 25th because the rain can come early and hard, and stay for months. If you think that's writerly hyperbole, then go look up the definition of "temperate rainforest", by which should be a picture of southwest British Columbia.

Today? Sunny and 24/80 degrees. Tomorrow, a little cooler. By Thursday, rain. Will sun return? A Vancouverite never knows. Hope, however, we collectively practice.

So, today I ride. Carpe diem.

I'm consciously getting my game back on over the next couple weeks. My 35th birthday's on the 29th.

Gay Wired16 hours agoSince 1992, when Bill Clinton became the first presidential candidate in our history to openly court the gay vote, I've justified my allegiance to the Democratic Party based mostly on the gay thing, but this year, as our country facesseven years of full-blown military presence in the Middle East, skyrocketing energy and healthcare costs, a broken economy, sexism, racism, classism, religious fanaticism, a record debt and no discernible homeland protection, I've found my political soul getting a much needed work out.

You know, it's funny, my memories from times when I've been depressed are very fuzzy. I don't remember what it's like very specifically. I have journal entries and I can go back and read them now that I am well and say "Wow, I was really depressed," but I don't remember the details of what that feels like. I can only read them on the page.

When I'm no longer able to speak or to write, that's when I draw or paint or play with collages. I'm so verbal, when I can function at all my feelings come out in my words. I write here in the blog or in the journal I carry around with me at all times. I have a journal beside my bed. I write a column. I love to have long, involved conversations with people I both agree and disagree with.

I'm looking back at my journal, and there's a period from April to August of last year where I barely wrote anything. What I did write is abysmal: "I wish just something wouldn't be so hard. It seems like I struggle with everything lately. School, friendships, my parents...I want to be able to rest for a while. I want things to be easy and to be able to truly have fun and be relaxed and easy just for a little while. Maybe then I'll be able to make it through all of this..."

I don't know how much of my personality comes through in this blog, but I'm just not like that. I want things to be challenging. I thrive when I'm pushed. That up there is me altered.

And I know at that time I was drawing and making collages, which I almost never do. I don't think I have any talent, although I'm sure I could cultivate it. But I usually just have my words. They are my art. At that point, though, I couldn't express myself that way anymore. I'd lost the ability to describe my feelings so I just had to represent them.

I think that's why my memories are so funny from those time periods. Normally, I remember things in words, in stories. Of course I forget things when I'm depressed, because I do become so non-verbal. I lose my systems of expression and therefore of remembering.

It's crazy, the total effects it has on my life. It's been over a year now, since I was depressed like that. A year and a half. I'm lucky, in that I can be a functioning person without anti-depressants. Now, I have no idea if that will change in the future. I know that if I get into a really major episode I could need them to get out. I've tried to set up support systems for myself so that I can have them gotten for me if I get that bad.

I definitely do things to try and keep my brain chemicals level, though. I exercise, I have to be sure I eat enough or I'm vulnerable to a mood change. And I sometimes take medication for ADHD, which actually usually has a positive effect on my mood. The writing does help me to constructively deal with things as they come up so that they don't have a long term negative effect on my well-being.

I know I've been writing a lot about depression and mental health. I had a spurt of productivity and thinking after I went to that Active Minds meeting. I've also become much more comfortable with the idea that I have depression, and so I want to talk about it and find others like me. I want to make connections and build support. This blog is part of that for me.

I've now both read Obama's entire speech on racism in America today and watched it, and, boy, I like this guy, man. I like him a lot. I think he's the politician I've waited a lifetime for. I don't think anyone could run on a platform of complete change and not achieve any. I don't think you can articulate what's so wrong with a country today and not have had ideas for a lifetime on what to do to fix them if a chance ever comes.

I have, for a while now, believed that Obama is, in some respects, a master manipulator, but I believe he does it for the right reasons -- to make himself a viable candidate. By not polarizing people too greatly earlier in his career, he can stomp his feet a little louder now and achieve more through it.

He's far from perfect and I have no illusions, but you gotta understand where I'm coming from.

I never pursued my journalism career for any number of reasons, but mostly because of what Stevie Cameron said to me over drinks after a conference she spoke at. (And I mean "said to me", it was a private chat.) Stevie Cameron's the journalist who exposed Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney to be a duplicitous thieving hack back in the day and blew open the Airbus scandal. She's up there with Barbara Frum when it comes to awesome female Canadian journalists, man.

So, she says to me I seem like a nice kid (I was 22). She had recently quit the mainstream political journalism beat and was now editing a women's lifestyle magazine instead. She began to speak about how a career in journalism means committing to a life of finding fault in everything and everyone. It's about finding problems and covering tragedies and wars and more often reporting on the worst of mankind than the best of it.

And I mentioned how I wanted to be the kind of old-school journalist that lasts out the ages, you know? Mencken, Murrow. Men of meaning and agenda. I wanted to call the world on what was going wrong, point it out, and be a part of the change that ensues. I was then and am now the sort of journalist that believes neutrality is overrated. I'm objective, not neutral. Then, I was an idealist, totally. I wanted to help change the world.

So she says, "And when it doesn't change on your watch? What then?"

She pointed out the rates of addiction and alcoholism amongst the journalists she knew, and said that was often "what then", so if change was my mandate, I should be prepared for stagnation and cycnicism.

Wasn't the most heartwarming bit of encouragement I've ever received, no.

And I thought about it. I knew the writer I wanted to be, the kinds of things I wanted to do, but what if I fell short and I was some chick on a beat in the city, constantly exposed to the same shit all the time, never seeing change... who would I become then? Would I like myself? Would I like my life? Or, would I, as I suspect, feel vapid and empty inside?

Ironically, I've yet to become that writer I wanted to be, but I guess I'm working towards it.

When it came to shaping the writer I am, I was a huge Hunter Thompson fan, early Hunter, you know. Sharp as a tack politically. Fear Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72 stands as one of the best political books last century. Hell, he was the only writer on the campaign to call every single primary in the '72 election, nailed 'em all. Whatever that tells you about his political skills, it should really tell you how well he knew his country.

He loved America but hated what was happening to it. Thompson, more than anyone alive, wanted to believe the American Dream. He spent his life waiting for the next voice that would cry out that a change would be a-comin'. He wanted to believe that someone else not only believed in the American Dream but would fight for it with the fight it deserved.

And Carter tried, but pretty much failed, but beyond Carter, that change never did materialize. Clinton looked like the next great white hope, but that ended in a disaster of cigars, blue dresses, and denials. More business as usual, more corruption, more disappointment.

The greatest tragedy of this race to lead the Democrats is that, man, Hunter woulda loved this one. God, how I wish he hadn't put a bullet in his head that February day two years ago. I suspect he figured "Superbowl's over, and Bush has two fuckin' years to go, AND it's February. Fuck, I'm done." Pow. Tragic.

And here comes this guy who says America's really, really broke, but if we all pull together, we can fix it again. He's preaching change. He's raising money on the web, running a clean campaign, chanting words like "we can" and "change".

Business as usual ain't going to fix America. Voting outside the box, though, just might. Obama ain't perfect, but he's different enough to be promising.

...And in a life filled with business as usual and disappointing politicians, I'm being given a few short months to believe that, yeah, maybe things can be different after all. I'm enjoying it. If he wins, it'd be incredible to see an optimistic America again. I don't think Americans realize that the America of the American Dream is the nation the rest of the world really does long to see. We wanna see a country with its "best" at its forefront. It's been a long, long time since we've seen that. America was built on dreams... having a few more right now certainly might not hurt.

I don't think I'm an idealist to believe in a platform of change. I think of myself as a realist... I know we have it in us to have a better world. I prefer to believe in that part of us that finds cures for diseases, sends men to the moon, and creates global vehicles like the internet to unite us all through the miles that would appear to separate us. I believe that everything great about who we are, the world we have, and the people we can be, all begin with a single dream by a single person at a single moment in time.

If we waited for perfect people and perfect opportunities, we'd never achieve anything. Instead, we look for the best people of those available and the best opportunity that avails itself to us; that is how success is found and had.

So I'm going to go on the record here and now as just another irrelevant Canadian's opinion that it's Obama I want on Pennsylvania Avenue.

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We had to shift around two long shelves of books to make room for the vast array of videotapes, and some really good books wound up in the great book-graveyard in t he shed. Shameful. In the meantime, to add to the woes of a compulsive VCR user, the Cambria area caught up with the rest of the world, with its very own video rental stores and outlets, b urgeoning with video tapes to rent.

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The game arrived and I couldnt wait to tear into it. Scott, however, was not as intrigued with the game as I was. It actually took a few weeks before I could talk him into playing the game, and he definitely came into it very skeptical and more to humor me than anything else. His opinion, however, changed fairly quickly.

We set the game up in the living room last night (no kiddos!) and checked out the board. Its definitely different than most board game boards out there. This board lies flat, but halfway across it the board splits up, creating one solid half and another half that, itself, is cut in half (try saying that 5 times fast). You move your little pawn along the board, and whenever you hit one of the Speak Love/Make Love icons, you flip the movable piece of the board down or back. Basically you go from talking about your relationship and desires to acting them out. Each of you plays on a different side of the board, so it is entirely possible for one partner to be telling all about their feelings while another is having to act out intimate maneuvers.

You start on the Speak Love side, and there are definitely some interesting assignments on that side of the board. Here are a few examples:

Share with your partner 4 unique or special qualities that you love about them.
Ask your partner what is romantic to them.
If there were one wish that your partner could grant you, what would it be?

We actually found ourselves giggling in between the questions, but getting very serious whenever we answered an especially poignant question.

Then it happened. I had to flip over to the Make Love side. My first task? Kiss your partner a good-bye kiss. That wasnt what I expected, but I went ahead and did it. Oh my. Scotts reply? You need to say good-bye more often.

Some of our favorite Make Love tasks?

Give your partner 3 different kisses one sensuous, one erotic, and one passionate on the lips.
With your non-writing hand, gently explore your partners back.
Using your lips, mouth, and tongue, make love to your partners ears, neck, and face.

We quickly discovered how much you learn about each other thanks to this game. Weve been together for 9 years, and thought we knew exactly what our partner liked when it came to romance and lovemaking. We both thought wrong. I was astounded that Scott enjoyed being kissed so much on his ears, neck, and face, and he was surprised when I chose the sensuous kiss as my favorite (that wasnt part of the game, but I had to give my opinion, right?)

We definitely learned a LOT about each other playing this game, which is something I absolutely did not expect to occur. After almost a decade together, we figured we knew each other inside and out. We were wrong. All too often, we dont take the time to tell someone how we truly feel about them. We may say, I love you, but we dont explain why we love them, or what we love about them. This game opens up all of the doors and slowly (but surely) breaks down all the barriers. This is the type of game you keep in your closet and bring out whenever the two of you are feeling at all insecure about your relationship.

The Pros: An absolutely amazing game. We will definitely be playing this one again, very soon, and will be hoping to hit on some of the many different tasks that we didnt get to do last time (the tell your partner one thing in lovemaking that you would like to try try it now task was where we finished the game very enjoyably). I'd recommend this game over therapy, at least for couples who are just feeling insecure, as it is full of positivity and helps you to connect to your loved one in a very sweet and endearing way.

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Our apartment is so peaceful that sometimes I forget I live in New York City. Then I take the dog out for a stroll and it smacks me in the face. I am so happy we accidentally got an apartment that faces the back of the building. When I look out the windows it looks like a scene from West Side Story. I spent most of the day loafing around and reading My Life at Grey Gardens. I guess it's because I have spent some time in the Hamptons that I can so deeply sink into that story. I know those beaches and what the air smells like. I know the streets and shops. Anyway, I finished the book. Always a sad thing when you are really immersed in a book. If you liked the film(s) you will probably really enjoy this book as well. The author appeared in the original film for a moment, during the birthday party. But as it turns out she was actually living at Grey Gardens while the film was being made. She was a friend, just getting by. Like them. And one of the sad revelations was that the film makers promised to give them money. And never did. They were eating onions and peanut butter to survive. All while the film was being shown around the world, to rave reviews. Our world is wildly off kilter.

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She settled into the chaise lounge and adjusted her headset. Her shift began as it usually did with one call waiting and another following about two hours later. It was the same time, the same man every night without fail. She smiled and answered just the way he liked.
“Sienna speaking. How are you this evening?” she inquired.
“Hello, Sienna. It’s James, from Salem.”
“Hello there, James. How good to hear from you. I trust your day was productive?” As with every other phone call, she asked about his day, about his projects, then they talked about sex.
It wasn’t just sex that they talked about. It was rough and rowdy sex with plenty of hot phrases and words that would make most women blush- even her. After all, she was a good Southern girl and that was the reason he chose her time and again.
“The day went well. I did what I set out to do and that’s the important thing. What about you, Sienna? How was your day?” He asked with such concern and sincerity that she was tempted to tell him. She closed her mouth as quickly as she’d opened it. This was his time, his money. He needed to remain the center of attention.
“Much improved since I’m hearing your voice. Thanks for asking.”
The line was silent for a moment before she heard the tell-tale rustling of clothing. He was in a hurry this evening. Normally there was more small talk and a little foreplay before he disrobed. She couldn’t understand why it bothered her, so she said nothing, deciding to let him lead once more.
“Do you ever think about me when we’re not on the phone? Is there ever a second that you wonder about me, about my life, about why I call a nine hundred number every single night?” His voice cracked a little and it made her nervous. This wasn’t the way it worked. This wasn’t their usual scenario or lead in.
“Of course I do, James. How could I not?”
How could she tell him that she broke every rule with him? He knew her real name. He knew which state she lived in. Hell, he even knew what kind of car she drove. Still, she couldn’t let her desire for something more to control her. Business was business and phone sex was hers.
“I don’t have long to talk tonight, Sienna. I have company from out of town and I have to give them my full attention, but I needed you. I was desperate to hear your voice, the sound of your orgasm. Can you give it to me, lover?” His honesty soothed her and his longing aroused her in ways that she couldn’t explain.
“If it’s my orgasm you want, you know how to get it.”
“Tell me, baby. Part your lips and utter the words.” His command came through and she couldn’t help but follow it.
“I’m waiting for you, lover. I’m lying back against my chaise with my breasts exposed and my thighs parted. Just the way you like it, James” She half whispered and half breathed the words, moving into the position as she spoke.
“That’s it, baby. Now stroke your clit for me. Spread those luscious thighs as wide as you can and give your clit the full attention it deserves, the same attention it would get if I was with you in person. Tell me how it feels.” He leaned back against the head of his bed and began to stroke his cock slowly as her words swept him away.
“Oh baby…my clit is so swollen, so slick and sensitive. I love when you tell me what to do, how to touch myself for you. It makes my nipples hard and my pussy wet, wet and so ready for you to fill me with your engorged cock. That’s what you want, isn’t it. James? To feel my wetness as it envelopes your throbbing prick.” She spoke softly and with effort, a sure sign that he would soon get what he was asking for.
“I’m going to have it, whore. I’m going to throw your legs over my shoulders and bury my dick in your tight little snatch, just the way you like it. It’s not going to be slow and easy. I’m going to fuck you the way a bitch deserves to be fucked.” His hand tightened around his cock and began to pump quickly and without reservation.
“That’s it! Fuck.Me! I love it hard and fast. I love when you fuck me like the dirty little whore that I am, James. Now, baby! Now!”
A moan from his end and several quick bursts of breath from hers and their connection was complete. Two strangers had found the satisfaction and release they so desperately needed.
“Thank you, Sienna. I hate to rush off like this, but…” His voice trailed off, leaving her to finish the thought for him.
“I know. You must go. Thank you for the evening, for the pleasure…for being willing to talk dirty to me.

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al milking.  So, guys, pick up a toy.
Another good reason to play with the Nexus Glide?  Frankly, it makes me cum like my girlfriend.  I have never had a feeling like this in my life.  Admit it, you’re a little jealous of all those multiple orgasms women can have and the carrying on about how great a full body orgasm feels.  Now you can have a few of your own.
On top of the amazingly different sensation, I developed a sense of understanding and empathy for female orgasm as well.  You have to understand that trying to achieve an orgasm through the use of a toy rather than the “old fashioned way “ is very different.  It can only be described as an agonizing pleasure.  You are trying to catch this sensational orgasm as it hovers around somewhere inside of you.  It’s sometimes hard to tell when it is going to get here, but when it arrives there is no mistaking it.
The toy says it works best if you are lying on your side.  After trying it every which way, I would have to agree.  The close second would be having it in during oral sex.  But hey, what isn’t improved upon with the addition of oral sex?  While trying to learn how to use this little guy I went through a range of sensations.  I was dizzy, I was almost nauseous, I had a period of shallow breathing and blurred vision all the while being teased into false warnings of impending climax.  There were times that I thought I might have actually torn the bedpost apart. Revelling in that moment, that hang time between about to cum and cumming, is what the toy is really all about.  Also, men tend to experience the sensation of a climax only from the waist down and the knees up and that’s all.  We can feel every detail from the wind up to the pitch and that feels great but then it’s over.  However, with this toy I completely lose any presence of mind regarding my own penis.  That is to say, I don’t really ever feel aware of what is happening to it.  I only feel the orgasm and lose all sense of any kind of isolated pleasure.  That’s a great but odd feeling.
I have heard that it is possible to cum through prostate stimulation only, but I am not there yet.  I think this is the toy to make it happen.  Practice makes perfect.  It’s possible to spend a very very very long time with your new toy, but life must happen and bills must be paid. Eventually, I needed to help the toy out a bit and take control with my hands, and it was only a matter of seconds before I was officially pushed over the edge I had been teetering on for so long. That’s is a very different mind set from the typical ninja masturbation that many boys learn at an early age and never really grow out of.
So, in the end I had a great experience with this toy.  So much so I might even ask for an upgrade after a while.  I think it makes a great gift and depending on the couple it might even be a great new addition to the bedroom.  The toy certainly delivered on its promises.  I did something good for my body, my attitude, and I learned a little something about the amazing woman in my life along the way.  Go to the store, go online, and look for the Nexus Glide.  Tell them I sent you.

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A moment alone and I‘m in my room diddling. The kids are off somewhere, who cares where, I have business to take care of. A moms gotta do what a moms gotta do AND whenever she can squeak it in between a taxi ride here, a music lesson there and fuck, the alarm clock is going off, a productive member of society!! Yikes!! So a moms gotta doOoooooo gawd yes, yeeeeeeeessss I breath hard, sweat beading on my skin. Fuuuuuck, Im almost there. I rub my clit harder, the bullet vibe in my pussy is set on high, purring against my g-spot, burning like an erotic fire. Oh god yes!! Im going to cum, yes, ooooo god yes!!!!! My pussy clenches as I feel the energy well up and I hold my breath until little sparks float behind my eyelids, waiting for the build up and finally, release. Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhh, yesssssssss, fuuuuuuuuuuuuck. My toes curl as I thrust my hips upward Yeessssssss, I‘m there!!! Pee gushes as I let go, fuuuuuuuck yesssssssss! and I squirt across the damp towel and onto the sheet. Uuuuuuuughh, yeeeeeeeeeeeesssssss, yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeHi mom
Shit, forgot to lock the door. Aaawwwwwwwwww fuckI wasnt done!!! *sigh*. I half heartedly pull the sheet over my legs, its not like she hasnt caught me before in the middle of my time of glory so, not much to hide.
Hey kiddo I close my legs a bit, fingering my swollen clit. Whatcha up to?m looking for my markers. Mom, remember the pet store?Umm hum. I poke a finger into my pussy, wiggling it around before pulling it to sniff. I lick my finger and start stroking my clit once againgod that feels so good. Shes rummaging around on the floor next to the bed.
I liked the ferrets momUmmmm hum I pinch a nipple, its still hard and begin to rub my clit with more pressure. Oh gawd, I can feel the heat rising again. My hips wiggle under the sheet.
They are really cool mom.blah. I really thinkYes dear. I stroke harder, not hearing a word she says. I hope the darling child finds what she is looking for and soon!!!
I barely hear her, lost in the throes of building desire.
Ummmmmmm hum My body tingles, goosebumps begin to rise as I enjoy diddling myself. My eyes are closed and I snuggle down among the pillows, losing myself in the thought of whats coming next. I pinch my other nipple, hard. Im not going to last much longer.
. AndOk mom?Yes dear. I am really close to the edge, I am soaked in pussy juice and pee. I slip my fingers just inside my pussy and pull them out, licking them again. The scent of my pee, pussy juice and the musky odor of sex is overwhelming. I hear the door slam.
Thank god. I rub my clit hard and fast. It wont take long, knowing she was in the room while I was toying with myself was always turn on enough to get me close.
Ooooooooooo yeeeessssssss, gawd yeessssssssssss. Fuuuuuuuckkkk. Im almost to the edge, holding my breath again and feeling my orgasm build and begin to peakGod yes, I cant wait, I have to cum. Ooooooooooo yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeSARAH!!!!!! MOM SAID I COULD GET A FERRET!!
Awwwwwwwwwwwww fuck
See, being a parent is a difficult task. You never know when your child will take advantage of you!!.

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Alas, this is the first product Ive reviewed that I cant give an overwhelmingly glowing review!
While the Scoop Lover is pleasing to the eyes, quiet, and waterproof (all things I look for in a vibe) it was a rather underwhelming experience for me. The vibrations were simply to low to do much for me, despite the lovely scoop shaped head which can cover your clit.
I tried it internally as well, but it was rather slim, and the scoop didnt do much for my g-spot.
However, we all know Im an utter whore for heavy vibrations, so I decided to give the Scoop Lover a chance to redeem itself.
I gave it to one of my sisters. (See, this is why I try new toys with condoms first. I cant return them, but I can give them to someone else!) Christine is 21, and while not nearly as promiscuous and trampy as I am, she knows how to have fun. And I know she likes toys with a lower vibration level than I do.
However, her first impression when I called her for the review was a meh She said the speed kept changing on her, I think because she kept touching the twisty part that controls the speed. However the vibrations themselves her fine for her. She said shes hanging on to it, but I have a feeling it isnt going to replace any of her current toys as a favourite anytime soon.
However, I wouldnt say this toy is an utter wash. Reviews, especially sex toy reviews, are a very subjective thing. Not everyone wants a vibrator that starts up like a lawn mower the way I do. Fans of a more gentle stimulation will probably enjoy the Scoop Lover, and heyyou can take it in the tub. What beats orgasms in water.

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Have I ever told you that I have a black thumb? I actually have two. I honestly am not capable of growing anything that has any type of green anywhere on it. I've killed African Violets, Cacti, and a whole garden (or two).

That's probably why I marvel in my neighbors garden. She truly has a green thumb, and even though she often has to start her garden late, everything grows beautifully!

I took a few pictures while we were visiting her garden yesterday (which you can see on the flickr acct) and even though I don't like to grow gardens, and don't care to eat a lot of the stuff IN a garden, I apparently love taking pictures of one. All of the lush colors were just so wonderful!

I especially loved taking photos of this blueberry bush. She's got a few blueberry bushes near her garden that she ropes off, and Scott and I believe that she has them as much to give our kiddos a treat as to enjoy them herself. I managed to get a picture of this ripe blueberry before Babygirl snagged it off the bush and popped it into her mouth.

I am having a bad start to my weekend. This morning Babygirl had a problem with something, and I asked her to wait a minute until Dad came upstairs. Toad turned around a minute later and said, "you don't have to wait for dad. Mom doesn't have to work on her computer all day. She can do it. She can take care of her kids."

This was all said in a fairly spiteful tone. And, of course, I have TONS of work to do today, so that I can clear myself up a bit to take them to swimming lessons for the next two weeks. *sigh* sometimes I can never get ahead in any area of my life.

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