Guest Post 3: Order of the Squirrel Exemplar
So the man makes another appearance on my LJ. I know that I've been sadly lacking in the posting of things. The good thing is that I've been too busy living life to write about it. The bad news is that I feel to go back and try to recap everything Gorgeous brings up here would take far more time than I have and wouldn't accurately reflect the utter joy he's brought to my life. So I'm going to interject my little commentaries as I see fit. In italics is me, the rest is all him.
This attempt at a post comes in the middle of what I deemed this morning as the "junglefuck olympiad." To facilitate a brief overview, I offer the following points for perspective:
1) Commence the morning yesterday with wild, full-powered moosefucking (because we hadn't physically seen each other in 16 hours and...well...)
Yeah, I called in again...and I'm not volunteering exactly HOW...let's just say at this point I haven't put a full week in since I've met our beloved author and her fiery, jet-powered jingo, and I had to sell it. At the same time, if there is such a thing as karma, I'm fucked.
Worth it.
First comment. I never asked him to take off of work...not exactly. But he's leaving this job in a couple of weeks and isn't really too heavily invested any more. So him taking off an afternoon here or there is no harm, no foul. 'Nuff said.
2) She buys me breakfast...
A place near where I grew up where I've been going for more than 30 years. It was a total high school hang out for me and it's nice to let him see a bit more about me.
2a) ...on the way to her favorite sex shop. You may recall this is not our first trip to a sex shop...but this one was well off the beaten path, and I was actually -PREPARED- for what I was going to see in this round. My last post only alludes to what happened the first time around, and I said I'd let our beloved author address that one. I must at this point apologize for her hiatus...lately she's been filled with other things to occupy her time.
After more than a fair amount of browsing, we decide it would be mutually beneficial to establish my own "toy box," as she calls it, "arsenal," as my friend calls it, or what I've decided to term my "armada."
The flagship purchase is a lovely black G-spot vibrator that comes with a flexing arm, flexing head, 5 speeds, novel little charger, and a whole barrage of ideas from yours truly.
Still well within the range of your more top-shelf vanilla, but a start.
The first trip to a sex shop (your run of the mill Lover's Lane) was more amusing than productive. He was under the mistaken impression that it was just lingerie, more of a Frederick's of Hollywood kind of establishment. So when faced with an array of anatomically correct *cough* devices--his eyes kind of bugged out and he turned bright red.
Not to mention that this place isn't that far from where we both live and work. It was a random time of day (afternoon during the week) so the chances of us running into anyone we knew were slim, but too close for comfort for him. Not to mention that their selection is rather pedestrian at best. I was really only going to buy lube *giggle* for...something.
The Pleasure Chest, which I gave a review of not too long ago, was where we went this time. Again, this place is totally the shit. We are nowhere near anyone or anything which made him a lot more comfortable. Always a good thing. We had a few laughs, a lot of looking around, and some ideas for the future.
The most amusing thing from my perspective is just how alike he and T really are. And the really amazing fantastic ways they are different. More on that later.
3) Race back to my place, and fight the eternal losing battle against time. This is the point where things took a turn for the post-worthy.
I cannot honestly keep track of all the "firsts" I've achieved with our beloved author...though I should start to take note of them. The two of us getting me "outside my box" usually (but not always...keep reading...) involves getting inside hers, and goes down faster than a hausfrau on a guy proclaiming "I'm Team Edward."
Sooo...an aside. The attire. There can sometimes be an issue in terms of fit and (to our dismay) finish, but the latter leaves our beloved author completely exhausted in the attempt, as the whole experience takes on this "Energizer Bunny" aspect that she just loves.
As do I. But, as I've said before, the jingo has nothing on Wonder Woman. A reasonable person would think that getting the everliving daylights fucked out of you and racking up orgasms (half of them squirting) well into the double digits would sate one's desires.
Ah yes, the difference between men and women. Men are happy if they reach orgasm. Maybe twice if it's a good night. Women will gladly (if they are able to) go until they are completely worn out. Or maybe that's just me. I literally feel sometimes like I simply can't get enough of him. I haven't heard him complain yet.
But we're not talking about you, or any other reasonable person. Our beloved author's superhuman vajingo completely has a mind (and opinions, desires, etc.) of her own, and it takes Captain America to keep her happy.
Aside to the aside: The Justice League references are entirely intentional. She will explain if she chooses.
Nah. Not going to explain everything. But the man is a fucking superhero, that's for sure.
4) After Round 2 (a.k.a. "The Moose Deuce") our beloved author speaks on behalf of the jingo and simply asks, "One more time?" This implies use of the hands. For those of you who have paid attention to the weather lately, this is a very good thing for her and can result in ripple-fired squirts should I so desire.
And I so do.
Alas, I found something amiss, however, and since I was already well inside her box at the moment, I chose to step outside of mine and augment the experience. Tongue, meet Beta Quadrant. Beta Quadrant, this is tongue. And these are our mutual friends, Screaming, Squirting, and the Orgasm triplets.
***If any of you out there can think of another coy, polite, or eloquent way to say "I put my tongue in her butt," I'm all ears.
In what world does the request for one more orgasm turn into three? OURS! LOL. He had brought up this particular activity a couple of days before, asking if I would mind. Um. No, nope, wouldn't mind that at all. *squirms*
5) The aforementioned, unbeknownst to me for an inordinate amount of time, allowed me to overcome the windsock issue brought on by the attire, which promptly resulted in Round 3. Nothing rhymes with "moose" and "three." Again, keeps on going and going. Again, wardrobe malfunction. Finally, our beloved author black flags the event from exhaustion.
Jingo 0, Me 1.
**********
So this morning we're recounting the previous afternoon's events via text, and the following exchange takes place:
OBA: ...that was definitely fucking.
me: Yes. It was like the junglefuck olympiad.
OBA: So what honorific is higher than fuckmaster? Because you've totally earned it.
me: Order of the Squirrel Exemplar, First Class.
Aside: We didn't use the flagship yesterday...it needed to charge. Thankfully, it wasn't missed. Her maiden voyage is planned for tomorrow...
The rest of today came and went with the usual at-work banter. Late this afternoon, however, came a surprise. She called and said she wanted to try to see me. Not long after arriving, to no one's surprise at this point, we find ourselves completely non-attired. For more than one reason we are clear on the notion that conventional jingo sex is not happening today. This doesn't disappoint because frankly, she has stronger and more frequent orgasms through other avenues.
Don't get me wrong, I totally wanted to have sex. Aside from some personal matters, I was a little concerned. I was just barely recovered from the day before and I knew I'd be seeing him tonight (Friday). So let the kitty have a rest. Turned out SO for the best.
Long story short, today I took my first trip down Avenue B.
There was, of course, a great deal leading up to this toe-curling "first" turn down Avenue B, but in comparison it would likely read about as predictable as an episode of Friends.
And holy crap the man has developed some serious skills in the talking dirty department. Between feeling him rubbing against me and being SO fucking turned on, the conversation had me completely going wild.
Going back to that aside about the attire...it causes our beloved author more than a fair amount of dismay that I don't reach my grand HUZZAH! every time the horse leaves the gate. Fair to say, but in truth I've told her that the ability to deliver 20+ orgasms (no shit) on a regular basis is far more gratifying. So much so that I have at times exacerbated the HUZZAH!-lessness in the form of self-restraint so she can entertain half my building (and likely the adjacent buildings when the window's open) for an extra half hour.
That being said, if I ever run into any of his neighbors, I would not be at all surprised if I got a grin, a knowing wink, or a serious chewing out for disturbing them. I can't help it, he sometimes literally makes me scream.
Knowing that, I receive stern, breathless orders akin to "shoot first, ask questions later" for two reasons. One, her giving nature matches mine, and after batting .333 yesterday, she wants to please me, and two, Avenue B is a great place for a day trip, but nowhere you're staying for too long.
So there's this. I really wanted it. But other than fingers and the occasional plug (both vibrating or not), I haven't had anal sex in well over a year. It's just not a good fit (pun totally intended) for T and I. And now I remember why I miss it. Oh. My. God. But yeah, I didn't want to get too sore and I really didn't want to have to stop because it hurt.
We were in an ideal position for a first time like that--him behind me but me essentially laying on my stomach. If he wanted to (which he did several times) he could get all the way in, but I didn't have the worry of it being too deep like it would be if I was on my hands and knees.
I was able to activate that small but intact meathead frat boy (yes, I was one) portion of my brain and do something I've always wanted to do (throw every drop of my liquid logic on that tight little ass of hers), and since she's already ensured in earnest that I'll never get rid of that mattress on craigslist, it seemed entirely appropriate in the moment.
I was just following orders.
Yes, I did tell him it was okay if he came all over me. Which he did. And in today's recap of the adventure, he did make mention of the fact that it took pretty much every bit of restraint not to come inside me. Um. Yeah. So hot. That will definitely be something to repeat.
Apparently I was quite vocal during the short but OH. WOW. experience, which again I will leave to the auspices of our beloved author. Aside from that, the best part was seeing how satisfied she was satisfying me, which was accompanied by her incredibly adorable and endearing giggling.
I've never heard noises like this come out of him. It was pretty amazing. Good for me too. Which is, quite possibly, the understatement of the year.
At this point, if you care to get her going, ask her what happened next.
That will have to be a separate post. I'm off to a blood draw and in desperate need of breakfast and caffeine when it's over. Hopefully I'll have time to post that this afternoon./i>
This attempt at a post comes in the middle of what I deemed this morning as the "junglefuck olympiad." To facilitate a brief overview, I offer the following points for perspective:
1) Commence the morning yesterday with wild, full-powered moosefucking (because we hadn't physically seen each other in 16 hours and...well...)
Yeah, I called in again...and I'm not volunteering exactly HOW...let's just say at this point I haven't put a full week in since I've met our beloved author and her fiery, jet-powered jingo, and I had to sell it. At the same time, if there is such a thing as karma, I'm fucked.
Worth it.
First comment. I never asked him to take off of work...not exactly. But he's leaving this job in a couple of weeks and isn't really too heavily invested any more. So him taking off an afternoon here or there is no harm, no foul. 'Nuff said.
2) She buys me breakfast...
A place near where I grew up where I've been going for more than 30 years. It was a total high school hang out for me and it's nice to let him see a bit more about me.
2a) ...on the way to her favorite sex shop. You may recall this is not our first trip to a sex shop...but this one was well off the beaten path, and I was actually -PREPARED- for what I was going to see in this round. My last post only alludes to what happened the first time around, and I said I'd let our beloved author address that one. I must at this point apologize for her hiatus...lately she's been filled with other things to occupy her time.
After more than a fair amount of browsing, we decide it would be mutually beneficial to establish my own "toy box," as she calls it, "arsenal," as my friend calls it, or what I've decided to term my "armada."
The flagship purchase is a lovely black G-spot vibrator that comes with a flexing arm, flexing head, 5 speeds, novel little charger, and a whole barrage of ideas from yours truly.
Still well within the range of your more top-shelf vanilla, but a start.
The first trip to a sex shop (your run of the mill Lover's Lane) was more amusing than productive. He was under the mistaken impression that it was just lingerie, more of a Frederick's of Hollywood kind of establishment. So when faced with an array of anatomically correct *cough* devices--his eyes kind of bugged out and he turned bright red.
Not to mention that this place isn't that far from where we both live and work. It was a random time of day (afternoon during the week) so the chances of us running into anyone we knew were slim, but too close for comfort for him. Not to mention that their selection is rather pedestrian at best. I was really only going to buy lube *giggle* for...something.
The Pleasure Chest, which I gave a review of not too long ago, was where we went this time. Again, this place is totally the shit. We are nowhere near anyone or anything which made him a lot more comfortable. Always a good thing. We had a few laughs, a lot of looking around, and some ideas for the future.
The most amusing thing from my perspective is just how alike he and T really are. And the really amazing fantastic ways they are different. More on that later.
3) Race back to my place, and fight the eternal losing battle against time. This is the point where things took a turn for the post-worthy.
I cannot honestly keep track of all the "firsts" I've achieved with our beloved author...though I should start to take note of them. The two of us getting me "outside my box" usually (but not always...keep reading...) involves getting inside hers, and goes down faster than a hausfrau on a guy proclaiming "I'm Team Edward."
Sooo...an aside. The attire. There can sometimes be an issue in terms of fit and (to our dismay) finish, but the latter leaves our beloved author completely exhausted in the attempt, as the whole experience takes on this "Energizer Bunny" aspect that she just loves.
As do I. But, as I've said before, the jingo has nothing on Wonder Woman. A reasonable person would think that getting the everliving daylights fucked out of you and racking up orgasms (half of them squirting) well into the double digits would sate one's desires.
Ah yes, the difference between men and women. Men are happy if they reach orgasm. Maybe twice if it's a good night. Women will gladly (if they are able to) go until they are completely worn out. Or maybe that's just me. I literally feel sometimes like I simply can't get enough of him. I haven't heard him complain yet.
But we're not talking about you, or any other reasonable person. Our beloved author's superhuman vajingo completely has a mind (and opinions, desires, etc.) of her own, and it takes Captain America to keep her happy.
Aside to the aside: The Justice League references are entirely intentional. She will explain if she chooses.
Nah. Not going to explain everything. But the man is a fucking superhero, that's for sure.
4) After Round 2 (a.k.a. "The Moose Deuce") our beloved author speaks on behalf of the jingo and simply asks, "One more time?" This implies use of the hands. For those of you who have paid attention to the weather lately, this is a very good thing for her and can result in ripple-fired squirts should I so desire.
And I so do.
Alas, I found something amiss, however, and since I was already well inside her box at the moment, I chose to step outside of mine and augment the experience. Tongue, meet Beta Quadrant. Beta Quadrant, this is tongue. And these are our mutual friends, Screaming, Squirting, and the Orgasm triplets.
***If any of you out there can think of another coy, polite, or eloquent way to say "I put my tongue in her butt," I'm all ears.
In what world does the request for one more orgasm turn into three? OURS! LOL. He had brought up this particular activity a couple of days before, asking if I would mind. Um. No, nope, wouldn't mind that at all. *squirms*
5) The aforementioned, unbeknownst to me for an inordinate amount of time, allowed me to overcome the windsock issue brought on by the attire, which promptly resulted in Round 3. Nothing rhymes with "moose" and "three." Again, keeps on going and going. Again, wardrobe malfunction. Finally, our beloved author black flags the event from exhaustion.
Jingo 0, Me 1.
**********
So this morning we're recounting the previous afternoon's events via text, and the following exchange takes place:
OBA: ...that was definitely fucking.
me: Yes. It was like the junglefuck olympiad.
OBA: So what honorific is higher than fuckmaster? Because you've totally earned it.
me: Order of the Squirrel Exemplar, First Class.
Aside: We didn't use the flagship yesterday...it needed to charge. Thankfully, it wasn't missed. Her maiden voyage is planned for tomorrow...
The rest of today came and went with the usual at-work banter. Late this afternoon, however, came a surprise. She called and said she wanted to try to see me. Not long after arriving, to no one's surprise at this point, we find ourselves completely non-attired. For more than one reason we are clear on the notion that conventional jingo sex is not happening today. This doesn't disappoint because frankly, she has stronger and more frequent orgasms through other avenues.
Don't get me wrong, I totally wanted to have sex. Aside from some personal matters, I was a little concerned. I was just barely recovered from the day before and I knew I'd be seeing him tonight (Friday). So let the kitty have a rest. Turned out SO for the best.
Long story short, today I took my first trip down Avenue B.
There was, of course, a great deal leading up to this toe-curling "first" turn down Avenue B, but in comparison it would likely read about as predictable as an episode of Friends.
And holy crap the man has developed some serious skills in the talking dirty department. Between feeling him rubbing against me and being SO fucking turned on, the conversation had me completely going wild.
Going back to that aside about the attire...it causes our beloved author more than a fair amount of dismay that I don't reach my grand HUZZAH! every time the horse leaves the gate. Fair to say, but in truth I've told her that the ability to deliver 20+ orgasms (no shit) on a regular basis is far more gratifying. So much so that I have at times exacerbated the HUZZAH!-lessness in the form of self-restraint so she can entertain half my building (and likely the adjacent buildings when the window's open) for an extra half hour.
That being said, if I ever run into any of his neighbors, I would not be at all surprised if I got a grin, a knowing wink, or a serious chewing out for disturbing them. I can't help it, he sometimes literally makes me scream.
Knowing that, I receive stern, breathless orders akin to "shoot first, ask questions later" for two reasons. One, her giving nature matches mine, and after batting .333 yesterday, she wants to please me, and two, Avenue B is a great place for a day trip, but nowhere you're staying for too long.
So there's this. I really wanted it. But other than fingers and the occasional plug (both vibrating or not), I haven't had anal sex in well over a year. It's just not a good fit (pun totally intended) for T and I. And now I remember why I miss it. Oh. My. God. But yeah, I didn't want to get too sore and I really didn't want to have to stop because it hurt.
We were in an ideal position for a first time like that--him behind me but me essentially laying on my stomach. If he wanted to (which he did several times) he could get all the way in, but I didn't have the worry of it being too deep like it would be if I was on my hands and knees.
I was able to activate that small but intact meathead frat boy (yes, I was one) portion of my brain and do something I've always wanted to do (throw every drop of my liquid logic on that tight little ass of hers), and since she's already ensured in earnest that I'll never get rid of that mattress on craigslist, it seemed entirely appropriate in the moment.
I was just following orders.
Yes, I did tell him it was okay if he came all over me. Which he did. And in today's recap of the adventure, he did make mention of the fact that it took pretty much every bit of restraint not to come inside me. Um. Yeah. So hot. That will definitely be something to repeat.
Apparently I was quite vocal during the short but OH. WOW. experience, which again I will leave to the auspices of our beloved author. Aside from that, the best part was seeing how satisfied she was satisfying me, which was accompanied by her incredibly adorable and endearing giggling.
I've never heard noises like this come out of him. It was pretty amazing. Good for me too. Which is, quite possibly, the understatement of the year.
At this point, if you care to get her going, ask her what happened next.
That will have to be a separate post. I'm off to a blood draw and in desperate need of breakfast and caffeine when it's over. Hopefully I'll have time to post that this afternoon./i>