Going mobile?

We have been remiss for not updating this space. Tomorrow we go "Aloha" and we'll see how technically proficient we can be. We'll try to post and maybe we can get some local flavor into it. Or maybe we'll just bring something back to show you-all next week. Stay tuned . . .

Facedown Friday

Ah, getting ready to go to a wedding, and a work trip and a vacation and where is the damn camera anyway? I'm lacking in new material, but then I find a little chestnut here and there and figure, what the hey, this will work. VSK has been rallying lately and we've managed to knock it out four times this week I think. The sex we had last Sunday was pretty hysterical in that we are both suffering from various sporting injuries. Geriatric sex. Its hard to get into some forceful fucking when you have a groin pull, let me tell you.

Memories, fantasies, and the blahs

When VSK and I started openly playing around, I found each interlude almost endlessly diverting in the aftermath. The thought (occasionally the sight but often these liaisons were unchaperoned by me) of her with another man was enough to bring and instant rise and subsequent fall. One especially treasured moment I was fortune enough to tape as playmate pounded her as I waited in the next room. I ruined that tape listening to it too many times as its audio verity had such a lovely authenticity mixed with the withheld visual which so often seems to demand more and provide less than the imagination can conjure. She sounds as good as she looks guys.

As we now head into the weeks leading up to a vacation in Kona, we are both buried in work and distracted. We often screw in the morning, it being the only time we both have the energy. Making love would require such a block of time unobstructed by the demands of parenting, housework, planning for the rococo transportation needs of teenagers and their friends, and etc that we acquiesce to screwing. The Kona vacation was a completely spontaneous and extravagant brainfart I had no idea I was going to go for. We have gone to the same complex in Kailua-Kona something like 10 times. The first eight were paid for by my folks. And this time although the kids will be absent my dad and his little sister are going which will mean we we'll be timing our intimacies to the rhythms of others yet again. Self-inflicted wound: I invited my newly widowed father with the same farting brain that pulled out the credit card for the airline tickets in the first place. Ha. Ha ha ha.

Kona breeds fantasies and frankly I can't seem to live well without them. VSK will wax horny again based upon unknown fluctuations in the local pheromonic index (hey, I invented a new word!) and it will be great. For some reason I seem to cum harder nearer the equator or maybe its just the humidity, and the two of us can get back to a level of intimacy closer to my unrealistic ideals. Perhaps she'll find a couple or a fella to flirt with in the pool, maybe the gods of wild sex will decide that its time for us to get a free pass into gooey nirvana. Or perhaps not. Worse case scenario is a pretty good scenario. And the memories still linger. Along with a couple of pics.

Leftover HNT

There are some pics from the past that never made it to the dark light of this blog day so here's one that deserves consideration. And men, read the previous post and comment, I like hearing your pain.

A modest proposition

It’s been quite a while since I wrote anything even remotely story-like, even longer since I’ve engaged my pornographic mode of essay composition. I think it is interesting how the image can so capture the mind (usually male minds) and become the thousand words that do the work. I often enjoy writing, especially when I don’t have to do it for money or school, so I am a bit surprised at myself that I haven’t found the impetus to churn out a useable batch of words for this blog. I’m forcing myself this time. Which can be just the ticket when it comes to VSK.

I’d bet that while the community of people who read this blog and blogs like this are not exactly average, most of the men who live in this world small or large have experienced the societal affliction of masculinus initiativous, better known as begging. No matter how progressive our partners may be and no matter how many toilets we may clean, I would propose that every man has had a relationship or at least moments in his relationship where he had to initiate nearly every sexual congress and romantic interlude. Now if this sounds like complaining, it is. Well sorta, but as a fellow who shares with his partner a vast array of stimulating “extras” I find that complaining itself is a no-no if wild sex is the goal. So officially this is not complaining. This is observing.

VSK is a very forgiving creature and even in those moments when the words “Dutch Oven” escape my lips she finds a way to put up with my ranting observations and off-beat high-jinx. But our relationship is not so different from vanilla America’s officially monogamous and missionary ideals in that we battle for turf and validation in our 20 plus year marriage. As we have matured the sublime nature of our jockeying for position has become nuanced and humored. Raise my voice with just a decibel or two of extraneous volume or add too much aggressive timbre and . . . well there is always tomorrow. And regardless of my boorish and oafish moments there are the real and ubiquitous distractions of modern femininity like “have the kids done their homework?” and “what’s for dinner?” As if my buying yet another carne asada burrito and chicken quesadilla wasn’t enough of a contribution to the energy we can then devote to the fucking. Regardless I am going to have to ask for the boning. As most men do, I chauvinistically assert.

Seeing these words on the page I guess I am just a pig and I should not only cook dinner, do the dishes and give a foot massage before I can hope that she’ll don one of those semi-expensive garments we just got in the last two posts and beg me to bring it too her big time. She’s a peach and the fact that nearly 27 years into this gig (most of it married and under the same roof) she still countenances being nailed 2-7 times a week is surely enough. Ah but to dream of those sweet moments when she comes on to me when I am actually ready to have sex and not just standing in the parking lot of the auto body shop thinking about how much fucking money and time I am pissing away because of my daughter’s faulty application of breaking force. Hey, I need to be romanced too! Hopefully it’ll be somewhere where it is acceptable to pull my pants off without fear of arrest.

I love you honey. . .

Vanilla Cream

Well we missed HNT and we are still floating around somewhere in our own minds because of vacation and the mental processing of teenage driver learning curves, but due to a pleasant set of circumstances we ended up alone (!) in our own house on a Friday afternoon with nothing to do but play. The blurriness of the images has to do with my inability to stop jerking my dick while I took these. This is another of those lingerie pieces from our Pacific Northwest trip and this little number's color is appropriately described as "vanilla." As in: it causes the production of "vanilla" cream.

Vacation Blues

VSK the kids and I had a near perfect vacation in the Pacific Northwest last week. River rafting, hiking, sight-seeing, great meals and silly fun with my best friend's family. I say near because the one thing you don't get with these two family vacations is privacy. And without privacy the side of us you see here is somewhat muted. Hey, we had some pretty winning moments although the damn bed we had squeaked like a mouse army. The highlight as far as these things goes was VSK and me visiting a upscale lingerie store in Portland. It was great fun as I got to sit in a nice comfy chair, drink wine and have VSK change into about a dozen different outfits. This is one of the winners that came home with us.