*sighs*
Mmmmm… vacation sex.
’nuff said.
Mmmmmm
11
Monthly Archives: July 2007
Vermont Town Has Had Enough With Going Buff
It seems that in the state of Vermont, wrinkles and grey hair don’t just make you unattractive, they actually make you frightening.
From this news story:
Vermont Town Has Had Enough With Going Buff
Monday , July 16, 2007
BRATTLEBORO, Vt. —
Topless women on parade? That was fine. Teenagers loitering in the buff, in a downtown parking lot? No problem. Naked sunbathers at swimming holes? It was just au naturel.But a senior citizen in his birthday suit, walking through the center of town on a Friday night, wearing only a fanny pack? That’s where Brattleboro draws a fig leaf.
What was the straw that broke the camel’s back?
On July 6, a 68-year-old man showed up naked downtown, walking the streets during Gallery Walk, a monthly social event in which people roam downtown, stopping in art galleries and shops.
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” said Select Board member Dick DeGray.
Read the news story here.
Actually, I heard about it on the radio this morning as the regular newscasters fill in time by reading the weird and quirky news reports. I’m often amazed at how people who are dancing around the half-century mark can make cracks about the unattractiveness of getting older.
Randomeme
Maymay tagged me for this meme, which, even though I just did this a few weeks ago, I’ll do again. ‘cos, I’m, like, an attention whore and all.
7 Random things about Tom.
1) I memorized my driver’s license number when I got it at 16, and still retain it.
2) I’m rather disorganized, and I have to be obsessive about putting certain things away or else I’ll never find them again. Yes, it sounds charming, but try living with me for a month.
3) I have a 1970′s vintage Christian Dior big paisley shirt with a butterfly collar that I can’t throw away. Mrs. Edge forbids me to wear it, but at some point I know that it will come back into style.
4) I rode a motorcycle for years, but never bothered to get a license.
5) I have never been to a casino. I’m just not interested.
6) I prefer to wear cotton, buttoning shirts. I rarely wear T-shirts or sweatshirts, even with jeans.
7) Although I dislike going to big parties, I’m pretty good at hosting them.
And I’m tagging the five people who have been getting a lot of traffic from me lately:
rb, chance, Her knight, allforher, SWMBO,
Sex News You Can Use
Bitchy, did you have anything to do with this? I’m only asking, ‘cos, you know, it wouldn’t surprise me.
Man needs fire department to cut lock off of penis.
A Kent man had to be freed by firemen after getting his penis stuck in a padlock.
The man, in his 50s, turned up at his local fire station in Margate after a sex game went wrong. He was sent off to hospital, but medics could do nothing. So he returned to the fire station.
The key hole had been superglued so firemen had to use hydraulic cutters to release him.
He was eventually freed after two-and-a-half eye-watering hours. A pal told The Sun: “God knows what he was up to – but he won’t be trying it again in a hurry.”
Superglue in the keyhole, eh? “Sex game gone wrong”? Yeah, good one. I’ll have to remember that excuse.
Also in the news:
In another “sex game gone wrong,” a couple chains themselves together and then lose the key.
It would be too much to expect that there is any relation between these two items, right?
And I don’t know how I missed this bit:
“A sex toy that connects to a vacuum cleaner to give an orgasm in just ten seconds.
10 Seconds? Wow, that doesn’t suck sounds like a bad pun waiting to happen.
CB6000 Male Chastity Device – More
Oh, you crazy kids!
The various search engines have been directing people to my little corner of the blogosphere (and since when does a sphere have a corner?) on various queries having to do with “chastity,” and in the last few weeks those search numbers have doubled. It seems that people (presumably mostly men) are looking for more information on the new CB6000 device from AL Enterprises.
Well, I don’t really have more information.
Sorry.
I do, however, have a link to a newly posted video of the device.
Calm down; it does not show the device being fastened on to me (Sorry, Bitchy) or to anyone else. It’s simply a close-up view of the device showing how it’s put together. That means you’ll have to use your imagination – a rare exercise in this medium.
Anyway, for those interested, here’s the CB6000 video, posted by what appears to be a German Dominatrix by the name of Madame Dura.
It’s vanilla, but of interest to those with a chastity kink. And while it’s “work safe” in the sense that it only shows the device, it might be embarrassing to explain to the HR or the IT department.
Not the Usual Anniversary Present – 4
Week 7:
There soon developed a routine.
Over the next few weeks, life was pretty uneventful – for me, anyway. About two or three times a week my wife would get a nice massage or foot rub or back rub at bedtime, and would roll over to sleep, leaving me frustrated with desire. About once or twice during the week she would have me lick her or rub her, which left me even more frustrated. Sometimes she would awaken early and have me rub her, my fingers massaging her wet pussy, giving her a nice little orgasm. She would give a quick stroke to my cock, swollen and purple inside my cage. Then she’d go back to sleep for an hour while I got ready for work. Other times she would take a quick shower right before bed, my signal that I would be expected to lick her until she was ready to go to sleep. This could take five minutes, or an hour. Once she straddled my face, grinding her pussy onto my mouth so hard that I almost couldn’t breath. The whole time that I ate her, she squeezed my balls, already sore and swollen. She tried to tease the tip of my cock with her tongue, but the bars on the cage were too close together. These sessions always ended with her going to sleep, and me lying wide awake for another hour with an ache deep in my groin.
During the course of the week, I’d find myself hugging her, brushing up against her, fondling her, copping a quick feel – anything to arouse her enough to let me out. Ironically, I couldn’t get enough of feeling her, but the more I felt, the crazier it made me. My wife knew this, of course, and although the amount of sexual contact we had never increased, the amount of sexual tension certainly did. Wanting her was constantly on my mind. Sometimes she would take off her shirt in the night, and I would awake lying next to her smooth skin. It seemed like everything she did was meant to make me want her all the more.
Week 9:
It didn’t take long before the arrangement started to seem normal.
After the first few weeks, I noticed that despite how it seemed, we really didn’t have any more or less sex than usual. Well, I certainly didn’t have any more, but without the luxury of taking matters into my own hands, so to speak, the week-long period seemed ten times as long. She, on the other hand, never seemed to want me enough to unlock me more than once a week or so. Of course, at first, she had me making her come a few times a week, so she was just fine with the arrangement. As the weeks went on, though, my enforced chastity seemed to lose the novelty. Not enough for her to unlock me and end the game, but enough so that she sometimes didn’t even want me to make her come all week. I gently suggested that she remove my cage so that we could take a break for a few weeks, but she told me that she’d then have to worry about me touching myself all the time, and besides, she liked for me to always a little on edge for her.
I noticed that the whenever I was re-locked after coming, I would be very excited for the first day or two. Then I would slowly settle down and spend the next few days perversely enjoying the sexual tension. If confined more than a week, though, I became too horny to enjoy it, and could only think about my next release. Unfortunately, this didn’t seem to matter to my wife. She put off my attentions by reminding me that the chastity cage was my idea in the first place, and that it wasn’t her fault if she ended up getting more benefit from it than I did. I tried to reason with her by suggesting that more frequent “time off” for me would be better for her, since I wouldn’t be so crazed with desire and would be able to last a lot longer for her. After a few weeks, though, she just shrugged and told me that she was able to “make do”, and that I should stop pestering her.
One week I wasn’t able to stay home on her day off. We were both disappointed, but she didn’t make a big deal of it. I, on the other hand, was frantic. That night in bed, she kissed me, and pushed my head down to her pussy. “Lick me,” she commanded, “I’ve been waiting all day for this.” She crossed her legs over my shoulders and stretched back. I held her hips as I flicked my tongue lightly over her lips and clitoris. She lifted her hips a bit as she came, and I slowed my licking, so she could catch her breath.
“Mmm, are you ready to fuck me, now?” she asked breathily.
“Of course I am, I’ve been waiting all day for this, too, you know.” I rolled over to allow her to unlock me. “Where’s the key?”
“Oh no, you had your chance this morning,” she admonished, “You’ll just have to fuck me with the dildo and eat me at the same time. You know, the way I like it now.”
“But… but…” I stammered, “It wasn’t my fault about work!”
She shrugged and reached for dong in the dresser drawer. Acting as if she hadn’t heard me, she simply handed it to me and pushed my head toward her mound. “You’re supposed to be ready whenever I want some,” she explained, “that’s supposed to be one of the fringe benefits of our arrangement, isn’t it?”
I just moaned in frustration, and went back to licking her lightly.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “I’ll give you some later.”
“Oh? Later tonight?” I asked hopefully. By this time I was teasing her with the head of the dildo.
She stiffened, “Uh unh, not tonight,” she replied in a distracted voice, “I meant later, on my next day off.”
Only her legs around my shoulders kept me from jumping up. “What?! But that’s next week! That’s not fair!”
Seemingly taking no notice, she reached down to guide my head again to her mound. “I know, it’s not fair that I should have to wait to get your cock inside me, but I’ll have to make do.” she stiffened under my tongue, and I resumed fucking her with the dildo. “Oooh, fuck me nice, like that…. Mmmmm,” she moaned. She was obviously beyond understanding, so I ate her that way until she came a few more times. Pushing my head away, she settled back with a sigh. “Hurry, clean up and come hold me, I’m sleepy now.” Completely oblivious to my aching, swollen cock, she soon fell asleep in my arms. I, however, spent the night silently moaning in frustration.
The next morning, I again complained that it had been a week for me, and that it was unfair to make me wait until the next day off, especially when she had gotten off the night before. She countered with saying that it was unfair to her, as well, since she still enjoyed my nice cock, but being tired at night, it didn’t seem worth it to go through the trouble of unlocking me, moving into all those different positions, cleaning up afterward, and then locking me up again. In fact, she continued, since it was my fault that she had to do without, it was only fair that I had to do without. Besides, her next day off would be here before I knew it.
More of my ridiculous attempts at erotica can be found on my Stories page.
Sexy Beast
The Goddess of Fauxdomination, apparently taken with my smoldering good looks and deep, soulful gaze, announced her arousal with a post entitled “Tomwearstheglasses = Sexy Beast.“
Not that anyone could blame her, of course.
So, imagine my surprise when Google search on “Sexy Beast” did not turn up my own picture (as one would have expected), but rather this new product on the market for the enhancement of other sexy beasts.
Go ahead, check it out. I’ll wait right here.
What the hell is that? Cosmetic products for dogs?
I’ve been trying to think of something to say about this, but the truth is that I’m totally speechless. It’s not that I don’t like animals; in fact, I think they’re great – outside where Nature put them. I just don’t get the idea of why some people anthromorphize them to where they (the animals) are treated like people… better, in fact, than how many people are treated.
Oh sure, I understand pets for companionship. And I understand how people can get attached to them. But I think that some people with (as grandmother Edge would put it) more money than sense are not showing their love or appreciation for animals so much as “accessorizing” with them. To me, that’s exactly the opposite of loving one’s pet. You’re turning it from an animal into some kind of kewpie doll.
Ah well.
I’d rant some more, but Mrs. Edge wants to clip my nails.
Okay, so it’s not just me…
I like to think of myself as having worked through a lot of those little vices and insecurities and affectations that plague us, especially when we’re younger. That’s why I’ve been rather surprised at myself, that is, at my reaction to my wearing these glasses. And I have to admit, I’m glad to see that either I’m not as vain as I’d thought, or that at least a number of you are as vain as I am. I swear, I keep looking at myself in just about every mirror that I’ve passed this week.
They also give me a headache, which people have told me is perfectly normal. This I don’t understand - I can get headaches for free just by going to work. :-\
The progressive lenses give a bit of distortion that is almost dizzying, especially when I glance down at my feet when going down stairs. By the end of the week, I pretty much found that I’m better off just wearing them for reading and working at my desk; this makes sense to me, since my distance vision is fine.
I liked some of your comments, though, and this one caught my eye struck me as being particularly insightful:
Lady Lubyanka Says:
I think the face is one of the primary visual elements of our identity. I don’t think it’s strange that when there is any alteration to the face, or modification to it, that a person would spend a lot of time in front of the mirror re-identifying themselves with the difference.
( for that, read: “pssst! I’ve done it too, but shhhhh, don’t tell )
I guess that makes sense; it also explains why we spend so much time staring at ourselves when we change our (for women) hairstyle, or (for men) add or remove facial hair. Periodically I shave the beard and mustache and spend the next week wondering who the hell is looking back at me in the mirror. The concept of “re-identifying” is particularly intriguing to think about for people who do change their hairstyle frequently – do they already have a strong inner identity, and so frequent changes leave them with little impact? Or do they instead enjoy the frequent re-identifications?
And interestingly, since February I’ve lost about 20 lbs (about 8 kgs for those of you not in the US) , so I have been feeling like a different person for the last month or so. Maybe this is one of those phases that people go through, when they feel the need to “re-invent” themselves?
