"Family Values"

Sin & Death in Mormon Country: A Latter-day Tragedy

http://www.affirmation.org/suicide_info/sin_and_death_in_mormon_country.shtml


April, 1986

By Mark A. Taylor*

On March 2, 1982, Kip Eliason, age 16, distraught and filled with self-hate over his inability to stop masturbating, committed suicide. Before asphyxiating himself, Kip left his father a note

I love this photo!

For Me

By Paris Waterman




"Do it... for me," I said, "I like to watch."

I watched her blush; saw the nervous twitch of her left eye, and decided she needed to hear the precise words. "Masturbate... for me, Vickie, please."

I know she's wet; we've been leading up to this since we happened to meet at the bar. Vicki admitted her penchant for watching porn; I admitted to being a voyeur, among other things. We knew where the evening was going, and now we were in Vicki's apartment. Hers, not mine. Vicki chose the destination, not me.

I believed I knew what she wanted to happen and toward that end I took control.

"Masturbate for me," I said, rephrasing my request. I spoke quietly, keeping my voice calm, but firm, and with a knowing smile on my face.

We are sitting on her bed, amid a pristine, ultra feminine pastiche of pink and white; amid oodles of Teddy's and Raggedy Ann dolls. Twenty minutes of hot and even hotter kisses, with each one a sign of eventual surrender have come and gone. I put my simple request to her one more time.

"Do it... for me."

I know she wants me, and she knows that I know. Yet she sits there, unmoving, formulating a reply that I have yet to hear. Already our clothes are half scattered around the pink and white room; a blight on the perfect blend of her choice in color.

"Vicki, I would like to watch you masturbate. You've already felt my cock. You know how hard it is for you. You need to be fucked. You want me inside you.

"What you want," she says and pauses. "It's embarrassing...Please, let's not do that. Wouldn't you rather fuck?? She's started to pant. "I'm really so fucking wet already...."

"I want to watch you first... C'mon Vicki, do it for me."

"But why?" she whines.

"I want to see you cum, that's why."

"But... but that's so private..."

"And fucking isn't?"

She giggles at my comment, and when I give her a questioning glance, she provides an interesting reply. "It takes two to fuck."

"No it doesn't," I say, surprising her.

"What? I don't understand?"

"Do you own a vibrator?"

"Yes, but what...."

"Do you have a dildo?"

"Yes, of course, but..."

"I've never... not in front of someone else..."

I don't answer her; instead I smile, and with our eyes locked I let my fingers slowly unfasten the buttons on my pants. I watch her eyes flick to my slowly moving fingers. She licks her lips with a deep pink tongue.

I expose myself to her ever widening eyes; I'm fiercely erect as my hand glides up and down my throbbing cock.

It's my turn to watch her fingers fly down her chest as she unhooks her bra and presents her breasts to me.

"Yes, please come for me..." I reply as a series of soft wet sounds rise up from my cock as I stroke it.

"Show me what a darling slut you are Vicki; touch it, come for me."

Vicki moaned, and avoiding any eye contact whatsoever, made a present of her panties to the pink and white carpeted floor. She's naked now, for my viewing pleasure, naked and oh so wet, although I've barely touched her.

"Please..." she panted, but her fingers have fallen between her thighs. I know her clit is aching for attention. I steadfastly refuse to grant it.

"Do it... for me."

Her cunt is on display for me as her fingers skid here and there teasing her clit, and plunge deep within her vagina.

A moment later Vicki's thighs are convulsing, her hips bucking furiously; and with her face etched with anguished pleasure, she released a long, sustained moan.

"I am! I am!" and came...

For me.

Scary Shit

Oklahoma Rape Victim Denied Emergency Contraceptives. Doctor Cites Religious Objection As Reason

http://www.addictinginfo.org/2012/05/31/oklahoma-rape-victim-denied-emergency-contraceptives-doctor-cites-religious-objection-as-reason/

When I think about you...

Girls do?

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

What I grew up around

Typical of what proper dress and appearance was in my youth.

Images from my youth

Unraveling the Mystery, pt. 2

...continued from (http://dv8nt.blogspot.com/2012/05/unraveling-mystery-pt-1.html)

---

 

---

Ah, porn.
I can admit that I've had a long term love affair with it since I opened the pages of my first Penthouse magazine.  I received my sex education from Mr. Bob Guccione's publications at the age of 13/14.  I wasn't getting any information about it anywhere else, so I went to the closest thing I could find for "expert advice."  I couldn't accept the blind obedience and strict abstinence policies preached to me from every corner around me.  Instead, they (being my parents, church and school) created this taboo and mysterious world that just beckoned to a hormone crazed curious teenager to peer into.

I can still remember that day in middle school, or 6th grade or whatever it was when all of the girls had this top secret assembly and we boys got to watch a movie instead.  We couldn't get any of the girls to spill the beans as to what it was.  Unlike other schools, we did not have sex or a reproductive section in our health or science class.  After all we don't talk about sex....shhh it's dirty and naughty except when a husband and wife share a special love. All we knew is that the following year, girls suddenly had breasts.  And we liked them.

I was a boy scout, and a member of a troop through my church.  I loved scouts, not for the badges or the mottos or the odd rituals they put you through.  I was in it for the campouts and camaraderie of my friends.  We had a "Stand by Me" kind of brotherhood that I'm grateful for to this day.  They kept me grounded when it seemed all this crazy talk about heaven, hell, second coming, and other supernatural tales abounded. We had a great deal of adventures in our youth as any boy should, and still keep in touch through facebook and the occasional get together.  The interesting part is all 5 of us have very devout LDS parents, whereas all five us denounced our membership with church at varying points in life.

Anyway, my friend "Charles" brought a couple copies of "Penthouse Letters" on a campout one fateful weekend.  The four of us piled into our tent/sleeping bags with a lantern and we whipped up some popcorn on a little single burner backpacking stove.  "Charles" would read the stories out loud like some sort of twisted story-time.  We naturally made typical adolescent comments and jokes throughout.  Truth be known we were in our sleeping bags because we were all sporting some serious boners!  Afterwards we had to get out into the cold night air and stir up some mischief so we could get our minds off our collective dicks.  This became a tradition.  Our campouts included music, porn, and mischief like some secret club a midst the mormon regime that supervised the campouts.  Charles had some amazing "black market" connections.  It seemed he had an unlimited supply of porn - Penthouse, Playboy, and Gallery.  There was something about the photography and soft filters used in Penthouse in the mid and late 80's that made it my favorite.  [Charles later became our source for alcohol...specifically wine coolers that were all the rage at the time - California Coolers (peach was our favorite) and Bartles & Jaymes'  Pina Colada]

It was traditional that during the summer my dad & I would go to a vacation destination in the mountains for 3 - 4 weeks during the summer.  My grandparents would camp at a nearby campground in their big trailer/camper.  These summers were another high point of my childhood.

There was a drugstore in town that we would frequent.  In those days, they kept Playboy and Penthouse on the same shelf as all the other magazines.  While my dad was checking out various things - bait & tackle, newspapers, snacks, etc. I discovered the trick of slipping the magazine inside of "Rolling Stone".  I'll never forget that summer when Maddona posed nude and was published in Penthouse.  That woman was responsible for so many adolescent sexual fantasies and self help sessions that I should name my penis after her. Ha! Just kidding. That would be weird ;)

Her music wasn't that interesting to me, but this persona of a sexually charged, strong willed, and boundry/gender pushing woman was fascinating to me.  Very different than the submissive, prim and proper mormon women (and girls) that surrounded me.

What I discovered, was that outside of the Mormon church there were others like me.  Men and women who had the same urges and naughty thoughts.  Women actually masturbated?  Whoa.  This was a turning point for me.  I'm running with the wrong crowd!

(to be continued)

Unraveling the Mystery, pt. 1

I was born and raised in the Mormon church in a small conservative town. (I left when I was 17/18 and never looked back.) This provided some really fucked up ideas at an impressionable age - whether overtly expressed, implied or otherwise.

• Women are subordinate to men.
• Nudity is improper, immoral and pure evil.  (Hey wait...I was born naked.)
• Girls don't masturbate
• Masturbation is a sin, yet it's a daily ritual
• Pre-marital sex is the ultimate bad.
• Men were in charge and brought home the bacon
• Women stayed at home and took care of the men, and had the occasional baby.
• Monogamy was preached by a religion that practiced polygamy.

Here is an interesting read on the subject, most of which I find to be true based on my experience and upbringing in the church: http://www.exmormon.org/mormwomn.htm

"Girls and boys are also told that a good and proper Mormon home is a patriarchal one."

Patriarch was a big word when I was a teenager. It basically meant "the man."

"Girls are told that God wants them at home (Laake 153), and boys are never taught to clean up after themselves, since when their mothers stop doing it for them, their wives will take over the job. These ideas, at least, have not changed at all since the nineteenth century. " This isn't necessarily preached in church but it is certainly a cultural thing. Looking back at my dad and even certain bad habits I inherited (ask my wife) there's something to this.

One of the things I had a hard time swallowing as a teenager were these 1850's ideas about gender and race existing in the 20th (then) century. This was the catalyst to my fallout with the church.

I find it interesting that here in the present, rather then come right out and say it on their web page, they've added a layer of obfuscation.

"Read other answers contributed by members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Answers are the sole responsibility of the members."

See for yourself and draw your own conclusions regarding "equality":
http://mormon.org/faq/role-of-husband-wife?gclid=CLKp97z2qbACFcleTAod_Ag_VA

Here is another interesting read:
http://www.exmormon.org/mormon/mormon001.htm

"This heinous homosexual sin is of the ages. Many cities and civilizations have gone out of existence because of it. It was present in Israel’s wandering days, tolerated by the Greeks, and found in the baths of corrupt Rome."- Prophet Spencer W. Kimball, "President Kimball Speaks Out on Morality," LDS New Era, Nov. 1980, Page 39

"Alternatives to the legal and loving marriage between a man and a woman are helping to unravel the fabric of human society. I am sure this is pleasing to the devil. The fabric I refer to is the family. These so-called alternative life-styles must not be accepted as right, because they frustrate God’s commandment for a life-giving union of male and female within a legal marriage as stated in Genesis. If practiced by all adults, these life-styles would mean the end of the human family."- Apostle James E. Faust, "Serving the Lord and Resisting the Devil," Liahona, Nov. 1995, Page 3.

"if practiced by all adults" WTF?

Holy crap, reading through this site is like reliving my childhood - http://www.exmormon.org/mormon/mormon281.htm


My favorite page:
http://www.exmormon.org/mormon/mormon161.htm :

"Church leaders have taught that death is better than engaging in pre-marital sexual activity." Oh, so true. Finally they pushed me to the point where it became a dare. =)

"I remember being scared to death because I was going to end up in the telestial kingdom for masturbating." A-fucking-men!

"Thank you for bringing up this topic of self Stimulation. First and foremost we will not run out of People on the Planet. Second masturbation is in my mind an acceptable form of sexual expression for those who are Divorced, Single, recently Widowed or just wanting to avoid making a mistake in a relationship. Disease is a real issue. And there is no guarantee that the Aids Vaccine undergoing clinical trials will be more than 30% effective. How many unhappy Marriages and Families are there due to this ridiculous dogma? Oh and Marrying anyone in order to become sexually active is another of my favorites. People trapped in loveless marriages, or abusive relationships. My advice to my oldest Children both married, self stimulation is much preferrable to a lifetime of mistakes compounded by a bad judgement call. Also those organs of the body that enable sexual expression are healthiest when exercised. These anal retentive fools are destroying peoples lives with their BS ignore them. "

Women / girls became a taboo, and the topic of sex was never discussed in my family. I was lead to believe that women were sacred because of the child bearing thing and implied that they did not have these same "urges" we boys had, so we had to control ourselves around them and not give in to "impure thought." I'm sorry, at age 13/14 impure thoughts were all I had and  to date, they have not yet stopped.

I believe I discovered self gratification around age 10/11 (I was a late bloomer)....although I don't think I really knew what it was, but I knew it was naughty because it involved my naughty bits so I kept it to myself. I was really confused and completely surprised when I had my first ejaculation around 12+ but thanks to the Junior High locker room discussions I got my answer clarified. (I never got the "talk"...I'll go more into that later.)

I started to think I was a serious pervert by age 14. It was somewhat isolating and I did not have an outlet other than my imagination and the frequent "long showers". I had one hella imagination. (Still do for that matter.) This did not encourage good social norms with girls for me. I was uber shy and intimidated. I was a walking hormone and was given the idea that girls were this ideal of purity that I had to respect until I went on a mission and got married. I didn't worry about going to hell....I felt like I was already there! I remember imagining a girl that felt like I did and ....gasp...even played with herself (however that worked). But that was preposterous of course. And then I discovered a little magazine by Bob Guiccioni. (To be continued).

The Chauffeur pt. 2

Inspired by my previous post, "the chauffeur", I first saw this video when I was 13/14 years old. Talk about a lasting impression! This was probably my first look at something "fetishy", not to mention two women seducing each other. Everytime I heard this song it induced a Pavlovian response...hell... it still does. To this day the thigh high stocking and garter combo is a favorite of mine. The sensation of nylon clad legs wrapped around me is ultra sensory stimuli for me. Given this scenario, as the chauffeur, I would probably wreck the car because I couldn't keep my eyes off of the rear view mirror. Sing blue silver.

The Chauffeur

50 Shades of Grey

I've been reading alot about this series, and it looks like it is about to break through mainstream media as Hollywood prepares to make it into a movie

http://www.foxnews.com/entertainment/2012/03/14/erotic-novel-50-shades-grey-unites-women-unnerves-some-men/

An excerpt from the book series:

On Having a Girl Wet For Me.

When I take a girl under my hand, I consider it my role to create an exciting journey of discovery.  I will certainly train her to my liking, but I will first create a sense for where she needs to go.  I ask many questions, I explore her her past, and I probe to ensure I have a solid sense of her wants, needs, hopes, fears, and desires.  I am especially attuned to her ability to experience physical eroticism commensurate with her fantasy life.   

I focus first on a girl’s arousal.  Once I understand her erotic essence - the basis of her desires, I can enhance her experiences.  I work with a variety of methods to teach her to hunger - and crave - not only my affections, but the opportunity to please me.   

While I might begin with a simple dialog, I slowly train a girl to be aroused at the sound of my voice, the look on my face, and my touch.  If I do this while addressing her unmet needs and cravings, I can bring her to new levels of passion and desire.

I may have to check this out.

The Voyeur

Train Ride by "SecondLife"

Storming out of the lecture hall, sickened by these spoiled rotten racists and their so-called "open-minds", I catch a taxi and speed away from this establishment of higher learning. Talking to the Jamaican taxi driver, I inquire: "What is it with these people?" He looks back, laughs and our eyes meet touching with a look of displacement, two people far from home. Gazing at the his ID, I say "What the hell are we doing here, Treon?" In his sing-songy Island accent, exaggerated in humor he says: "Come now, fiery Miss, doncha be lookin like dat, here me? Der are far worse places you could be."





Pointing out the window to the campus, "This is the University of Illinois, birthplace of our country's future CEO's, Politicians, hell even Doctors for Christ's sake! The most narrow minded people in the universe! Damned spoiled Mid-western brats, with their hatred for anything that doesn't wear GAP!" With a bewildered look in his eye, my GAP comment rolling past his head, he says: "The fiery Missy be needin to get away, aye!"





Our eyes lock. In a heartbeat, I tell him to take me to the airport. He shakes his head, and turns the taxi in another direction, downtown, past the loop, in front of Union Station. With a dark smile and glittering eyes, he says: "You will find yourself and lose yourself on dat der train." I press a wad of money into his hand, squeezing it gently in thanks and left the taxi.





Looking up at the tall building of fame, I enter through the huge columns, and down the staircase that once flowed with blood and debris from the violence of gangsters, now decorated with the designs of the new gangsters that prowl around. Approaching the ticket desk, I had no idea where to go. The prim agent attempted to help for 30 minutes, pushing flyers in front of my face.





With wild eyes, I slam my fist on the counter, "LOOK, I don't care if I go to NJ, NM, NY, ND, NH.... Just get me the fuck on the next train out of here!" The manager walks over and looks me in the eye. I stare back hotly for a good 10 seconds. Then he asks: "Open ticket or one way". I break into a smile, answering, "Open... it has a lovely ring to it. Yes, that's it... oh sorry for yelling, .... But, if I hear another Mid-western nasally accent, I am going to SNAP!"





The manager and the assistant exchange conspiratorial glances, quickly looking at the man that had just departed the desk before I came up, and type furiously on their keyboard. After several beeps and minutes, my ticket is printed out. Their smiles, glittering eyes and syrupy "have a gooooood trip"... is completely lost by me.





With ticket in hand, I have 2 hours before taking off. I run into the shopping area to buy some clothes. Oh, the feeling is GREAT! New clothes, impulsivity, that wonderful feeling! The saleslady chattering away, as I am reveling in this freedom. I hear her repeat something vaguely, twice..."A getaway to ... To where?"





Where the hell am I going? Looking in my bag, my ticket said "OPEN- Northwest bound". Good lord, I've been all over but never there. She looks at my ticket and says, "Oh, you are taking the Empire Builder route, that is the most beautiful!"





I pay for my purchases, 2 pairs of jeans (bell-bottomed and low waisted), 3 cropped top t-shirts, a 2 pc. red Swim suit, a classic little black dress and sandals. Upon leaving the clothes store, I walk into the intimate apparel store and purchase some delicate items. I notice some female condoms... mmm, interesting... I buy a pack just for kicks. I have to dash to catch the train... "forever-late Rhiannon", I am called.





When the porter asks for my ticket and my bags, I hand him my ticket and hold up my ONE bag. He looks at my ticket, glances over my shoulder, to the manager who had sold me the ticket, and nods. I could care less about what that exchange was all about, I just want to relax and get as far away from Chi-town as possible. Then, curiously, the porter blushes and takes my bag and carries it up for me. I follow him through the narrow aisles of the train, car after car; we pass but kept walking to the front.





"Slow down sugar, where are a taking me, coach is back there!", I ask. He then turns to me, with a smile and a wink as he puts his finger over his shhh'ed lips. He leads me into the 1st class sleeper cars. I was aghast!





"No way,... I cannot stay here! It's too expensive!", thinking of the mint I just dropped on buying the clothes impetuously. He slides the cabin door open for me and says: "It has been taken care of Miss, enjoy your ride". I am speechless, a rare moment indeed.





There's a single red rose lying on my bed, by the window... the room smells of... hmmm... I can't place it... masculinity? I am too thrilled to notice the gray valise hanging in the closet.





Instead of unpacking, I tuck my shopping bag under the bed, take off my stifling hot sweatshirt and jeans, and with only my tank top and red gym shorts on, I hop on the bed. Feeling the train's engine rev up and slowly pull us out of the station, I lay back to watch the departing skyscrapers. It has been a stress filled day and I need a release... where is a man when I needed one? Closing my eyes, feeling the slow deliberate movements of the train, I reach into my thoughts and concentrate on relaxing. It was time for a release.





I let my fingers walk down my neck and slowly to my chest, as I circle my nipples into ripe, hardened peaks. One by one, watching the offices go by... wondering if anyone could see me looking up into their windows... this sends erotic thoughts through my mind, as my hand creeps lower, caressing the tender area just under my breasts, feeling my body's warmth through the thin tank top.





Ever so slowly I slide down to my navel, dipping, circling. Still pushing away at a snail's pace, the train passes under bridges, and I can see the pedestrians walking along, and people sitting in their cars. My hand moves lower to play with the texture of my short's waistband, then under, down over my cotton panties. Here is where the heat was radiating, embers burning, gathering more fuel for the fire inside. Fingering the left side of the leg band sends shivers down my legs, touching that tender crease where thigh meets hip.





I gather my whole hand together and cover my mound and smile to the world that is passing by my passionate lowered eyes. Holding my hand there, I close my eyes and awaken the slumbering criatura, the Wild one, the one who detests chairs and tables, but prefers the ground, trees, and caves, for in these places she can lean against the cheek of God.





The change comes over my body so swiftly, the touch even is different, deeper. Entering though the leg band, my hand is on a mission, eyeing it's way through the familiar forest and finding my clitoris, now peeking softly out of it's hood to meet it's lover. Reaching my finger lower past my swollen lips, I dip my finger inside to get some slick sweet nectar to soften the response of the unshielded warrior. Then, back up to play wild little circles around and around, feeling my nerves shoot flames through my body. Still having my face towards the window, erotically masturbating in front of the Sears tower and passing cars, I build to a climax and moan softly. I didn't see, nor hear the door of the cabin slide open as you stepped in.





You are heading home from a conference in Chicago and decided to take the train instead of flying, after all, you needed the relaxation. Splurging on a private cabin, you had hoped to share it with the woman you met at the conference. But, sigh... she was married... too complicated... So, here you are alone... or so you thought.





You enter the room, always quietly, as is your nature. What a sight... a red blanket of silken curls hanging ½ off of the bed with a creamy white leg, the head turned towards the window, you are curious to know who has stolen into your room. But, your nose catches the intimate fragrance of woman as your eyes quickly take in what unfolds before you. You freeze, not knowing what to do, feeling yourself leap to life in your jeans. With the stealth of a cat, you enter the room, and quietly sit on the bench, facing the window and the bed, and watch in fascination.





I continue to pleasure myself, catching the masculine scent again, my back starts to arch as I imagine it is my lover's tongue flicking sparks of pleasure. I slide fingers in and out and in and out, soaking my panties, and moaning with pleasure, until my muscles contract around my fingers. Not wanting to cum too hard, I ease my fingers into an age old rhythm, slow steady and strong. Feeling pinpricks of pleasure bursting all over my body, my head throws back and I bite my left hand, to restrain the scream.





At this moment, I roll my eyes into the back of my head, catching a quick glimpse of you sitting there watching, but you are only part of my voyeuristic fantasy. I cum sweetly and slowly onto my fingers. The feeling has made me extremely drowsy. Removing my fingers from my sensitized mound, I drift off into perfect aftermath slumber. I doze off as the train comes to full speed and heads out of Chicago.





You sit there quietly, running your palm over the front of your jeans... what are you going to do with this strange girl? Wicked evil grin crosses your face, as that little demon inside of you says: "TAKE HER NOW! Rip those shorts off the naughty sprite, and ride her so hard that she'll never be pleased with a simple finger from now on!" You ache at that thought. No, but the chase is so much sweeter. You decide to wait. But, you must do this one thing... you stand up, towering over her sleeping body, filling the room with your masculinity, then you lean down for the gentlest kiss.





I stir in pleasure filled dreams... rugged coastal cliffs of an Emerald Isle... kissing in the chilly rain... You finish with the kiss, and with the strength of a thousand men, you stand up and leave the room. You are on a mission to find out who this red headed vixen is.





Spotting the porter, you make your way towards him with a determined walk. He catches sight of you and tries to dash away. You grab him by the coat and put him against the wall.





"You know something!", you say calmly into his up tilted frightened face. Without further encouragement, he stammers out the story... blaming his manager for the deed, it was his revenge on this screaming mad redheaded bitch to book her into the same cabin with you, trying to "teach her a lesson". A smile slowly creeps into your eyes as you imagine the scene I created at the ticket desk, recalling a loud curse echoing from Union Stations high walls.





"So, the punishment is to let her sleep in my room? Where pray tell was I supposed to sleep?," tightening your grip on his jacket.





"Well, ...gulp... if I were you, I would ... um... I would just share the room, sir... or I will try to find you other accommodations." You release him, and say, "Well, do that then. A gentleman is always invited first." With a grumble, you walk to the back of the train to find an open seat. You fall into it, and settle in to sleep.





We've made several stops now, and it is night time, as we are speeding through the Wisconsin countryside. My growling stomach awakens me. I take off my sweaty tank, shorts and panties, take a quick shower, and throw on my new white crop T-shirt and jeans. The towels they have are cheap and don't do a very good job, so my white crop top is clinging tightly as I exit my cabin.





Wandering through the darkened train, gingerly picking my way through the sleeping cars, filled with snoring people and shadowed faces. I am heading for the Lounge car for a snack and some conversation. Car after car I pass through, wondering when it will end. Strolling careful by, I gaze into the sleeping faces and smile.





Upon entering your car, I immediately see you in slumber. Who could ignore you? You cut a striking bold figure of a man, even in peaceful rest. I pause slightly and I pass you... inhaling, smelling vaguely familiar.... The same scent is in my room. Your black hair has a beautiful shine in the muted light of the car, an errant lock creeping across you brow roguishly.. I want to reach out and touch it's silkiness, but hold back.





My eyes take in the rest of your face... begging for a kiss. Broad, powerful shoulders, hmmm, eyes wandering lower... long legs, uncomfortably tucked, other leg thrown out, thighs spread wide taking up the 2nd chair next to you.





On a whim... I decide to slide into that chair next to you, pretending it's mine. Carefully, I walk over your legs, and slide into the chair. You stir in your sleep, but still do not awaken. I sit there and take in your masculinity for several minutes. My hand finally strays over to touch your hair softly, your hand snaps up to grab my wrist suddenly! Your head turns and you mumble something... I just say "shhhhhhh, go to sleep". You obey and never even open an eye.





I arise and carefully move out into the aisle, and with a caress on your cheek, I leave. Back in the lounge car, I meet up with a wild bunch from California and they teach me how to play Spades, which we play until the sun rises and we pull into Minneapolis.





Meanwhile, you are getting cramps from trying to sleep in that chair. "Damn it all," you get up and plan to storm into your cabin and demand to sleep in the bed. Upon arriving, I am not there. Puzzled, you look to make sure you've got the right room. Yes. So, you enter and see my bag under the bed...





Locking the cabin door, you start to go through my things, jeans, tops, hmmm nice dress.... Wondering what color my eyes are... hmmm, no bras, but several pairs of panties.... Soft peach silk, white cotton thong, black lacey panties with.. gasp.. with no crotch, ... fingering in and out of the material, your stomach tightens, ... the train's rhythm is rocking you back to sleep. You quickly put away the items and remove your restrictive clothing, down to your boxers, and climb into bed. Head touching the pillow, you are fast asleep.





The last of my new found friends have moved back to their sleeping cars and I am alone. Wandering back up the train, I feel the tiredness running through my body. Sleep, must have sleep. I enter the cabin car and try to open my door, it's locked. I reach in my pants, ahhh the key. I open the lock and slide in careful not to awaken the neighbors.





The first thing I notice is you, under MY sheets, on your back! I am astounded.... Yes, I was wishing for this God, but you've never answered this quickly. What should I do? Wake you up and kick you out? You are DEEP in REM sleep, so I decide to let myself do what I really want... after all, I am getting away from it all... I want to be free! I strip off my clothing, in the bathroom.





Entering the cabin, I could see the tint of sunlight trying to peek it's way in the horizon... the room had a slight warm glow, now. I climb into bed with you. You whisper something that I don't understand and continue sleeping. My hands explore your body softly, dreamily caressing every muscle you have! Getting bold, reaching lower.... Over your belly... lower.... To your fully erect manhood. Gasp! Uh, I LOVE men in the morning!





I pull back the covers and slowly straddle your hips. Carefully lifting your member straight up, I take your head into my soft pussy lips, dripping with arousal of my wicked actions. As your head enters, your head throws back and moans... still dreaming. Slowly, I slide down on your hard shaft, centimeter by centimeter, eternally slow so as not to awaken you. Applying more pressure to try and take you wholly in... hmmm, now resting on your hips, your body instinctively grinds into mine as you slowly awaken. Now, your hands are on the move, thinking it's a dream still and you want to stroke yourself. Smile. Your hand meets my fiery red mound.





Your eyes fly open, and see me... beautiful in the morning sunrise, long hair of fire, big hazel-green eyes, full lips, with on finger over my lips saying "Shhhhhh!" Looking down, you see my creamy white skin forming a valley between two rounded full breasts, peachy nipples tight with desire, down to glistening fire engulfing the raven. Creamy white thighs straddling your hips, in a delicious V.





While you are taking in my body, I cream even more from the touch of your gaze, and rock into you with the motion of the train. Up and down, grinding a circle ... rhythmic sexual intercourse. Mmmmmm. I cannot believe what I am doing, and purposefully close my mind of anything but this erotic ride and you and the burning hot flame that is licking it's way up my spine, exploding into infinite shards of ice in my head. My lips form an O and I am washed away with the tide of ecstasy, spasming, arching crying out, all the while my hands gripping my breasts and nipples tightly.





Without warning, your body completely ignores your will power and reaches the point where you want to explode inside me, your long fingers digging into the backs of my knees pulling in tightly, gasping for air.





Perched atop you, still keeping you trapped inside, I let my eyes come back into focus and look down at your body. Dark brown meets fiery hazel. "Shhhh..." I say, "just let me talk. I am taking control of this body you've got here. I found you in my bed and this is my room. That makes you a trespasser! So your punishment is this," and I rock my hips into yours hard, feeling you jump a mile into me. "You're just gonna have to lay back and let me fuck you, ok?"





With wide eyes, you nod. Never one to talk "dirty" while having sex, the freedom of saying the word "fuck" sent shivers up my spine.. so I try it again... grinding bit slower.





"Do you like the punishment your getting'?" Sliding my hips back, taking only your head in my lips, I work them very fast... "Do you like the sound of my sweetness sucking you?" Hearing the smacking noise of the rim of your head going in and out of me. You moan. I respond with: "Oh yesss, I feel your balls tightenin'... you gonna cum in me? Let me fuck you bit harder then."





Working my hips into a deep thrust I am taking you in entirely, slamming into your body, feeling your balls becoming rocks on my cheeks. My clitoris has risen and is being stimulated by the base of your mound grinding into me... I am riding you hard and you see my hair and breasts, bouncing rhythmically.





You grab my hips and grind up into me for endless minutes, until you finally explode hot lava into my frenzied hips. At the same moment, my climax has peaked and my sweet orgasm explodes too. "OH yes!" Locking my hips into yours and still rolling with you as you spend your last drop. I collapse into your arms and lay on your chest, my breasts heaving from my exertion.





You still want to say something, but I put my finger over your mouth and say "Shhhhhhhhhh!" I climb off your body, and dash into the bathroom, freshen up a bit and put my clothes back on. Then I put my wild hair into a quick braid and come out. You are sound asleep. HA! I walk over, and with a kiss I leave.





I wander up into the Observation Car, with the ceiling full of windows. I find a seat in the empty car in the front, and watch the surrounding scenery as we enter North Dakota. Still reeling from the sex, I wonder what the rest of the day will have in store?





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~





I am riding up in the observation car, on the upper deck. Here I bask, in the ever growing sunrise, surrounded by windows on the sides and ceiling, a warm glass tube offering me a panoramic view of the speeding landscape. As I drift off to sleep, I feel my uterus finally release it's contraction, muscles relaxing as I fall into an endorphin laced sleep. The rocking of the car pushes me farther into slumber.





You arise, shaking your head and feeling your muscles aching... what an incredulous dream! You lay back, reaching your hand down to enjoy your body, the dream was so real; too real as you take note of the fragrance in the room. Man! Well, it has been a hectic month and the tension taking its toll on you. You shrug it off as stress induced fantasy, as you rise, shower and dress for the day.

For services rendered

Review - Sleeping Beauty

File this under "A happy surprise".

This eye catching independent movie appeared on Netflix the other day.

The description sounded intriguing, so in spite of my better judgement, I checked it out.
I was expecting some lame cable porn with a screenplay as bad as the acting and all the gratuitous fake boobies you can squeeze into 90 minutes.

I was pleasantly surprised.
What I got was a surreal, cerebral, erotic art film that was well acted and was visually stimulating yet uncomfortable.  The interesting part is that the eroticism does not come from the usual source.  It sneaks up on you, and just as you think you've discovered the source, you're redirected.  There is actually no sex, per se,  in this film!  In fact I didn't see any gratuitous nudity...what was there was perfectly believable for the setting.

The movie was loosely based upon the Histoire d'O by Anne Desclos. Or as you may know it- The Story of O. Lucy, a college student, with some obvious issues of her own, goes to work for a high class 'Madame'. Much like the Story of 'O, (At least for me) the most arousing piece of the film was the 'indoctrination'. (Although much lighter in this case.)

 

The 'hook' is that these wealthy upper class older men who shell out big $$$ for the services of these high class prostitutes, can do anything they want EXCEPT penetration.  Did I mention that the women are drugged into a deep sleep and are unconscious and completely at the whim of the men who has them for the night.  It's bizarre, disturbing and uncomfortable, but yet strangely believable.  Humans are strange.  

Visually, it has a hip 1970's instagram style color and feel to it and a cold, creepy, lonely vibe to it.  If you are looking for something overly sexual and accessible to watch this may not be your best choice.  It's dark, cerebral, arousing and disturbing all at the same time.

I'm impressed enough that I want to check out the filmaker's writing as I understand she is an author.

A little Sin goes a long way

The devil inside has been hibernating for some time.  Occasionally he stirs and pokes at me, pushes my buttons, and pulls the puppet strings.  Yeah, I'm weak.  My vanilla status quo is begging for a little coriander and cinnamon.  I can't control the physical plane, but I can put bytes to "paper" and play with my mental genitalia.

I've decided to use this blog as my release valve as I once did along time ago, in a myspace, far far away. Some of what I write is pure fiction, merely fantasies, some of it is not.
Some of these fantasies have been acted out, some not.
In fact, it's been my experience that sometimes the fantasy is far better than the practical application
Perhaps it's the anticipation of the possibility of fulfillment. You know that familiar excitement....like when you were a fumbling teenager clumsily and slowly sliding your hand down across your girlfriend - as each centimeter passes, your heart rate increases, wondering if this time she'll let your hand slip into her panties...and explore the mysteries within.  I'll disguise the names & places to protect the not-so-innocent.

The majority of this blog will be textual (that rhymes with sexual) but I will occasionally include images that excite me.  I don't want to make this a "pRon" blog, but I am a voyeur, and a fan of erotic imagery.  So if that isn't your cup of tea, you should move on. (Also, I'm not posting any pics of us, so don't even ask.)

I'm a happily married heterosexual male and very much in love with my wife, who happens to be bisexual.  We define our own version of fidelity and have been together nearly 15 years.  Monogamy of the heart..... but below the waist......well....let's just say we've bent the rules of conventional "marriage".  "Swinging" isn't for everyone.  For that matter I've not really ever identified with the "S" word.  We don't consider ourselves to be in "the lifestyle".  Too much work, too much drama and this city is a little too small.  In the past we've had a core group of 'friends with benefits' but life has put us all on different paths.
  I will continue a thread called 'deviant memoirs' which may be some good insight for me in understanding why I have such a dirty, filthy mind.

Some of the things that interest me (from varying degrees) and topics I'll be approaching in this blog:

• Voyeurism.  I like to watch.  
• Bondage - specifically rope play and blindfolds.
• 'Good' pornography.  Who doesn't? (See #1)
• Erotic stories.  Good ones...not the cheesy and tired old penthouse letters.
• Asian women.  It's a bit of a fetish. Ask my wife.
• Threesomes.  Out of all my group experiences, three is still my favorite number.
• Alternative lifestyles.  From a cerebral point of view. I find them interesting.  
• Costumes/lingerie/clothing fetishes.  Boots!  Stockings! Garters! Corsets! Latex! Masks!   (See #1)
• light S&M.  I once preferred and identified with the Dominant.  After several naughty IM conversations with an internet friend over the years, my interests shifted to 'Cuckholding' and Female domination.  By light, I mean this in a role playing situation and not a full on lifestyle.  
• Reverse cross-dressing.  By that... I mean women who dress up like men.  Short slicked back hair and a business suit holding a martini in one hand and a cigar in the other. (This while she has some sexy lingerie on underneath. Maybe even a penciled-in mustache. I don't know, maybe there is some recessive bi-curiosity deep down there somewhere.  When I was a teenager Madonna and some other pop stars toyed with this much to my surprising arousal.  The non-traditional female role seems to be a BIG 'trigger' for me.
• Role playing.  (Speak of the devil.)  I can't believe we've never done this.  But sometime I'd like to 'pick up' my wife in a bar...and/or also watch her get hit on from a distance.  Perhaps at a lounge in a hotel where we secretly have a room.  I sheepishly ask the waitress to bring her a drink and have her point me out.  At some point she pulls out "her" room key, hands it to me at the bar and leaves. Or perhaps hire her to be my 'escort' some evening.

So there is a bit about me and my introduction to this blog.  Cheers!
MDM.

“Miserable creatures, thrown for a moment on the surface of this little pile of mud, is it decreed that one half of the flock should be the persecutor of the other? Is it for you, mankind, to pronounce on what is good and what is evil?”

~Marquis De Sade