It’s that time of year when the veil between the living and dead grows thinnest. Witches and warlocks, ghosts and ghouls, pookas and goblins, faeries and pixies, and all manner of othernatural will be running amok tonight.
However you celebrate, stay safe.
Stay SINful, friends.
To all who suffered and continue to suffer from Hurricane/Superstorm Sandy, our thoughts are with you. May you find comfort and relief quickly, and your recovery leave you stronger than before.
Stay SINful, friends
As I write this, Hurricane Sandy is within 24 hours of making landfall on the Eastern Seaboard of the United States. Reuters reports that it may be the largest storm to ever make landfall in the United States. Let that sink in a minute. By size, larger than Katrina, or Andrew, or Irene last year. Already there are reports of flooding in NYC. In Gowanus, Brooklyn, New York the storm surge is literally pushing toxic sewage into the street. Even of NYC does not take a direct hit, the immense size of this storm could be disastrous for the city. A storm surge correlating with landfall near high tide during the current full moon could flood the subway system and affect service for a month. While I admit my combined 13 years of living in Florida and riding out dozens of storms has made me cynical when it comes to heeding the hype, we saw with Katrina that sometimes not even the predictions account for the amount of damage potential.
As Mrs. AP pointed out while we were discussing the problems Sandy poses, what happens when all the rooftop furniture starts taking flight? We have seen lawn chairs split palm trees in half during storms in Florida. What is a handrail from a rooftop deck going to do when it hits the glass facade of one of the buildings in Midtown? What happens when the loose equipment from the various towers under construction gets an unobstructed flight across town? What happens when debris from Roosevelt Island splits a cable on one of the bridges over the East River? Okay, maybe that last example is an exaggeration. Nevertheless, we know in Florida that flooding and debris caught by the wind cause the most damage, and NYC is fraught with potential for both.
After the surgery Mrs. AP had, we’re under doctor’s orders for no intercourse until she’s checked out and we’re given the blessing for all systems go. For a couple as active as we are, it’s been agonizing. It’s also led to some incredibly hot “everything but” sessions like we’re a couple of teenagers trying to get every fix we can. It’s been lots of fun and has had the added bonus of forcing us (read: Me) to talk about what we like, what we want, and so forth. We spent every day of my “weekend” off from work either talking, cuddling, or playing in every way we could. In a word, we reconnected, which we both needed. I feel refreshed and comforted, and I think she does as well. Part of the problem we’ve been having in the physical reconnecting, however, is holding to those orders from the doctor.
This “problem” — ’cause really, it’s a relatively small problem as long as intimacy is being maintained, right? — started not long after Mrs. AP gave me one of the most amazing blowjobs in the history of blowjobs. One of the immeasurably wonderful things about Mrs. AP is that she gets turned on by turning me on, so by the time I’ve begun shooting my hot cum down her throat she’s ready for me to turn her over, grab her hair, slap her ass, and fuck her so hard she screams her throat raw. Not being able to do that right now requires getting a little more… creative… in our problem solving skills. Oh, how I wish all problems required such fun ways of finding solutions!
This has been making the rounds. Enjoy.
Only two rules: You must answer yes or no. You may not explain unless someone asks.
Hello there SINful friend! If you’re reading this posting you fall into one of a few relatively small categories: somebody who is a sex blogger, somebody who wants to be a sex blogger, or somebody who stumbled here accidentally through a cheeky inclusion by a rogue search engine. If you’re here because a search engine drove you astray, don’t worry, we don’t bite around here without expressed permission to do so. In fact, that’s one of the tenants of being a good member of the sex-positive community; always get expressed consent. Lots of bad things happen when you don’t, so it’s a good rule to live by. Please feel free to follow this post to the end while you’re here, and if you feel so inspired do explore further through additional posts. My archives to the right are organized chronologically; you can start with the first post or the most recent and read through them all, or just bounce around as you see fit. Whatever works for you.
If you’re one of my long-time friends (or even a new friend, to whom I say thank you for joining!) you will likely already know most of the advice I’m about to dispense. In fact, as I’m still a relative newcomer to this community, you likely know even more than I! Your comments are welcome as always to help expand upon my limited foundation.
Therefore, I turn to my final set, and the core audience for this posting; those who wish to start a sex blog. Writing a sex blog is easy, honestly. Anybody with a sexual thought and the ability to sign up for a WordPress or Blogger account can start one. Writing a good sex blog, however, requires a little more effort. To help ease the amount of effort required, I recommend the following:
I was on my back on the bed looking up at Mrs. AP as she came into the room. She smiled as her gaze caressed my naked form, the sparkle coming into her eyes with an intensity that’s been missing for over a week. In slow, measured movements she closed the door behind her and peeled her shirt over her head, swaying her hips gently as her delicious breasts emerged from cover. She tossed her shirt to the side and crawled onto the bed, her eyes hungry, her smile dancing dangerously. Her lips met mine with a ferocity that still surprises, amazes, and entices every time. Never have I ever been kissed by anybody who can put so much intensity and emotion into the seemingly simple sensation of pressing together two pairs of lips.
Her hand trailed down my chest, teasing all the sensitive and tickly spots before spiraling lower to brush against my hardening cock. I felt her smile against my lips as her hand wrapped around me and squeezed. My cock became her stress toy, her hand pulsing around me as she tested how hard she could grip me before I cried out in that swirling kaleidoscope of pleasure and pain. She pulled back, grinning a cheshire cat grin, and shifted to her knees before turning and lowering her tantalizing lips to the throbbing head of my rock-hard cock.