spread
your legs
expose
your sweet flower
offer up
sweet moistened petals
splayed
wide and wanton
ready to receive me
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Tag: nsfw
Time and Venue TBD
TMI Tuesday: May 7, 2019
May is Masturbation Month. Let’s first celebrate by playing this TMI Tuesday. Second, please go celebrate by giving yourself some glorious “self pleasure” aka go masturbate!
1. Can one masturbate too much?
Anything in excess can be a bad thing. How much is too much can be handled only by you.
2. Do you masturbate daily?
Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. “The pursuit of foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds.” – Emmerson
3. Do you masturbate significantly more than you have sex with another person?
A. Yes
B. No
C. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. If you are looking for a lifetime aggregate; life is too short to do the ciphering. “If you can’t be with the one you love. Love the one you’re with.” – Crosby Stills Nash & Young
4. Can you go one week without masturbating?
A. Yes
…and I have many times. But edging frequently while taking advantage of myself does make the heart grow fonder – me
B. No
C. Only if I could have sex at least every other day
5. Are you comfortable casually admitting to others that you masturbate?
A. Yes
B. Depends on Who I’m Talking To.
I have no compunction to bust that nut on every Tom, Dick, and Harriett I meet on the street. But if the conversation does reach out to that topic I will certainly take that unicorn by the horn and spew my rainbow of experience upon request.
C. No
6. Would you be comfortable performing a masturbation “show” in front of your lover?
A. Yes
Times and venue available upon request.
B. Maybe, Depends on the Personality of My Lover
C. No
7. Have you ever masturbated in a public place? Where? Why?
A. Yes
B. No
Nobody wants to see that sort of unsolicited performance when they are going about their business. But if you do…
Times and venue available upon request.
Bonus: Would you rather. . .
Never masturbate again? OR
Have to masturbate five times a day, every day, forever?
Since I have other hobbies and interests besides philately I would say never again as long as it does not preclude me from receiving such intimate services and an occasional stamp licking. I would make time and situate myself accordingly to receive such delights.
May 28 is Wanker’s Day!
“Wank on you crazy diamonds” – Pink Floyd and me
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How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!
Happy TMI Tuesday!
The Easter Bunnies Cumming
It was a different time. It was a younger time. It was a cumming of age time. One might say cumming was on mine and Rene’s mind all the time. Sensitivities were different. Knowledge of many things were different and learned slowly, intimately, often with great effort and reticence often brought about by the shyness of youth and reservations of opening up to the ignorance we wallowed in.
The major characters in this moment of time were myself, Rene, a lovely though politically insensitive black and white rabbit fur jacket, and a big plush pink bunny suit. All hopped down memories bunny trail to fatefully meet smack dab in the middle of the cosmic basket of my life.
Rene loved that fur jacket. Her long straight blond hair framed her delicate features and came to rest pleasingly upon her accented fur covered shoulders. It soon became a favorite amorous prop of hers. The jacket would end perfectly above her heart shaped derriere. Her slim waist and sometime incongruously bare midriff despite the weather’s necessitating a fur jacket were beside the point. Once we were snuggled in our bunny hutch she hopped about in tiny lace panties and furry bunny jacket. This tableau often had me bursting early and often. My own personal fears, though Rene would fulsomely claim otherwise, was way too early way too often. But that chapter of irrational youthful exuberance was drawing to a close as spring time approached.
Still memories lingered back to the Christmas morning when I gifted dear Rene with that bunny jacket. She actually squealed with delight at un-boxing this furry delight. She hugged it tight to her firm young bosom until her wintry robe fell to the floor and the jacket took over her short teddy nightie.
She found a full length mirror and preened to her heart’s content while I enjoyed the view with rising anticipatory erectus. Her long legs exaggerated by the hefty furry enrapture was an optical illusion to my roiling limbic system’s delight.
Soon her legs enwrapped me as I licked her quivering bunny snatch while my eyes peer over her blond fringed bunnies mound as she hugged my primitive gift of animal fur close her her pitter pattering heart. I could feel her heart thrumming through my tongue as It glided hippity hoppity through her flowery flowing furrows. But when I pierced her molten snatch I burst forth almost immediately in my heated lustful excitement.
Far from appearing disappointed, she covered me in sweet kisses and affections until it was time for us to make our holiday rounds.
As I drove to her parents house for our big Christmas dinner Rene was unusually snuggly next to me crowding my end of the long front bench seat of my big ol Bonneville. She felt warm and soft next to me as the big V-8 engines heat exchange kept the car interior toasty. Good thing because she worked my stick out of my holiday suit and played with my four on the floor intently and lovingly all over the river and through the woods. By the time we pulled up to grandmother’s house her sweet blond head dropped to my lap and swallowed me whole forthwith.. Because of my highly charged state from her holiday drive handy work it just took a couple of bobs in her tasty mouth while I caressed her bunny fur covered back for me to cum copiously in her mouth. She swallowed me all up deftly leaving nary a drop on my holiday finery. As she reclined back resplendent in her fur she brought to mind Guinevere in her winter coach being delivered to King Arthur’s Court in the movie Camelot. She was every bit as fine as Julie Christie as she straightened her make up in her compact mirror. She smiled sweetly and asked slyly, “Ready for Mummy and Daddy?”
After the grilling from her family and their marked disapproval of me spending my money on such an extravagance of a fur jacket, bunny or not, we had a good meal , gift exchange, and libations. A good time was had by all.
Fatigued and on our way to my family’s Christmas Night light supper and gift exchange Rene was more subdued during that drive, but just as lovely. My parents being older than hers I think she felt more sexually repressed in their expectant presence as only more antiquated generations can deliver.
So when we arrived at my place with bellies full and plum tuckered out from the day we fell into sweet dreams in each others arms with little more than a lick and a promise of future follies.
It was the next few months of cold winter snuggling that made me realize that the gift of animal pelts still cut deep in the thoroughly modern psyche of young woman of that time. Or at least it clearly hit Rene right smack dab in her libido.
To say the least, her interest in sex was altered. Frequency, variety in locations, positions, amazing feats of daring do, not to mention trying new things too. Was it the jacket? Was it the times? Was it her growth as a woman? I will never know. All I know is our sexual detente menu went from me cajoling, coaxing, and sometimes down right pleading; to her staking her claim as a full appetite sexually wanton being.
I was in heaven.
She would show up at my door at all times. The fur covering her usually scantily clad top with either hip hugger jeans poised perfectly on her full womanly hips below. Sometime a peasant skirt with nothing else underneath was the temptation dujour. When weather started to warm the fur coat was only thing between the world and her sweet swelling protruding pink nippled breasts. Of what joy it was to unwrap her on those occasions.
Or I would come home to find her curled up on the couch wearing only brief black panties, fur jacket open enough to tease the swell and curve of her champagne glass sized boobs. We would spend hours petting, fondling, fingering, kissing, and licking each other. Sadly even with all this action, the excitement of my newly unbridled nymph, when I entered her what little control I had once had was gone and I would cum buckets full of rich creamy jizz deep inside my beloved. She was always discreet about her orgasms, but now they were shivers at best from my penetrating efforts. Still she seemed satisfied from our oral and sleight of hand communions.
Of course the more I tried to not cum it seemed the briefer our copulation encores became. Still every chance she would service me anywhere with her sweet rose bud mouth and I would slather adoration between her sweet gapped thighs at every opportunity.
Winter turned to spring. I was out killing time at second hand shops working on my fashion sense and searching for items that would fuel Rene’s new found delight in playing dress up fuck fuck games.
There it was.
A big pink faux fur bunny suit. Resplendent with floppy ears. Buck teeth. A fluffy white tail and a very thoughtful back trap door and discreet front button fly. I knew what I had to do. Being ever cautious about garments from second hand shops my first stop was a dry cleaner. After all the inner tag of the Bugs suit said dry clean only and the little woman behind the counter did not bat an eye when I presented her with her task at hand. Clearly she had stranger ducks on her counter than this pink bunny suit. It would be ready the Thursday before Easter. Perfect.
Thursday after work I made the bunny stop at the dry cleaners and went straight home. Rene was coming over per our plans, but I was not sure exactly when. All I had to do was strip down , shower, bunny up and wait. I was in my favorite chair waiting when I heard her key in the door. When she opened the door she looked like she had just stepped out of the iconic scene from “Pretty Woman” Knee high heeled black boots, booty short black mini skirt, topped off with her black and white rabbit fur jacket. For some reason she had also curled her hair into big hair territory. This was not your mama’s Rene from down the block. She was a full tilt fantasy. I could see her pause for a moment. At first she seemed unsure about being presented with a big pink bunny sitting where she expected to see me. I was not about to wait around for introductions. I stood and my stiff steely cock popped right out of the open button fly of bunny-land. With a glance she recognized me.
“Well hello Easter Bunny.”
As I made my approach her hand instinctively reached for the matter bobbing between us. I deftly sidestepped and smoothed her bunny fur cover shoulders and led her to our table. My hands slid between her open jacket front and smoothed her sides with just a glancing caress of her breasts as I took her by her hips and bent her over the table. A brief journey up her mini skirt found her panties which I pulled down too her ankles in one fell swoop. I pried the filly pantie from one booted ankle but purposely left it loitering around her other ankle for aesthetic effect. With her skirt up over her perfect heart shaped behind I ran my hands over the soft luscious bunny fur on her back as I entering her deep with nary a how do ya do. She was molten, viscous, and very ready. My hands moved under her coat know and found her delicious erect nipples while I cupped her perfectly formed tits in my greedy bunny gloved hand. I think the glove fabric rubbing her tender tits made her gasps and I felt an initial pleasure spasm around my still fully immersed cock. Her snatch was needy and clutching as I pulled out. Next thrust gave way gradually as if her cunt was trying to feel every slick throbbing measure of my intrusion deep down into her sweet swale swatch of heaven. Her distended clitoris caressed my balls each time I paused my plunge deep inside and stirred her steamy rabbit hole. Being inside Rene was glorious and I would dawdle deep with in her, stirring my prick inside as to whip her into a frothy frenzy. At first I felt her fingers playing with her clit from below. Then as I stirred the pot some more I felt them cradle my balls as they worked with her furrows. So focused was I on her moans and quivering machinations below I had lost all track of the fine furious fucking we were doing. I was in the moment. I was in Rene and all other matters dissipated. Then she came like never before. Soaking me, the table and the bunny suit. Never had she made such a ruckus while we humped.
I still had yet to say a word, but I know my moans were in harmony with hers. She took me by my still hard and unspent cock and led me to the bed. She fell on her back, the coat was open her blouse was unbuttoned, by which I mean all the buttons were now gone in my frenzied frolic, revealing to my eyes those perfect breasts and nipples to be fondled. This time with visual guidance more precision was achieved. She wailed as her feet found my shoulders with the white pantie flying from one leg as a sign of complete surrender. I stumbled in deep from above. She came again leaving her eyes glassy. She began talking incoherent bunny filth about filling her basket, tweaking her pink jelly beans harder, make my peeps go squish, and ram that big white chocolate bunny into me all the way to its big clumsy feet.
“Oh thank you Easter Bunny!” she moaned to which we parroted our favorite Cadbury eggs commercial with a hearty ”Buck Buck.”
Laughing we came again. We collapsed on the bed. She ripped my bunny head off and covered me in deep passionate kisses for the rest of that weekend. When we weren’t fucking like rabbits of course.
Why hiding under a big pink bunny suit would help me out of my premature dilemma is another one of life’s many mysteries. Thank you Easter Bunny indeed.
First drafts may not be the best drafts but they sure are fun. P.S.
2. Debbie Do
2 Fist Full of Edits
When I arrived home that evening I had forgotten that Rene was going to be there. Rene was familiar with the hours my job had me keep so no questions were asked. However I had to be mindful that Debbie’s saliva and my come may still be obvious on my dick so it was time to be proactive.
Rene was the complete opposite of Debbie. Five foot nine, with a large heart shaped ass, and small perfectly formed tits with nipples that became very long and erect with the slightest attention. She rose from her chair and said, “Long day huh. Let me fix you a drink.” As she walked to the bar I saw my chance. Rene had showered and was wearing my light blue robe. While she started pouring I moved behind her and reached around cupping her perfect little breasts in my hands. Her nipples grew between my fingers as I laid gentle kisses down her long luxurious neck. I knew my assignment.
Step one. Slide one hand down the length of her slim stomach and start getting her tight little pussy ready. As I felt her glorious ass start to rub against my cock causing it to stiffen Rene said, “Well I’m so glad to see they didn’t wear you out totally at the office.” As she finished preparing my cocktail I moved my other hand reluctantly from her flawless tit and undid my trousers. I pushed her gently forward on the bar, flipped her robe up and began running the enormous knob on the head of my cock gently between the sweet lips of her already dripping cunt. I teased the edges of her pussy with a slow entry splitting open that heaven’s gate with the bulbous head of my appendage.
“OK, fuck me now you asshole,” Rene murmured between gasps.
Step two. I rammed the full length of my cock deep into Rene. Any evidence was now covered in Rene’s sweet flow.
Mission accomplished.
Rene reaped the benefits in many ways from my earlier encounter with Debbie. I gazed down lovingly at Rene’s sweet heart shaped rump while I drove and angled deep into her. Yet my mind wandered. Thoughts of what Debbie’s tiny olive hued derriere would look like in this pose would arise. Sure Debbie’s shorter stature might make this a more challenging encounter, but it could offer new angles as well. The thought just made me harder. As my hands reached around to cup Rene’s small breasts I couldn’t help but muse what it would be like to have Debbie’s enormous melons in my mitts. But then I would see Rene’s beautiful blond mane spread across her back and the dusky Debbie would fade from my thoughts. My previous full wet orgasm down Debbie’s throat allowed Rene and I to shudder and shiver in entwined ecstasy throughout the night sharing numerous spine wrenching orgasms.
Though I had yet to gaze upon a fully naked Debbie, visions of her would haunt me through this weekend spent with Rene. As I would peer up from between Rene’s long white thighs my mind would wander to what that scenario would look like with Debbie’s massive breasts heaving with rising passion. I wondered what Debbie would taste, sound, and be like. But such fleeting thoughts would just drive me further and further into Rene’s blond fringed treasures.
As we passed that Sunday afternoon with Rene’s tongue running around the knob of my cock, her long blond hair covering the scene as she took me deep down her throat; I found myself reminiscing of the scene Debbie portrayed doing the same thing to me back at my office. The view I had of that encounter due to Debbie’s short black hair left the sight of her mouth devouring me between her sucking lips unobstructed. But now I marveled at the ease with which Rene could get the knob deep in her throat
Monday would be back to work. Monday would be Debbie. That thought had me grasp Rene under her arms, lift her up and toss her on to the bed. She looked startled, her blue eyes wide with questions. As I looked down at her lithe slender body my lust was boundless. Her tall perfect shape stretched out before me. Her long legs. Her nubile breasts topped with erect nipples. Her long straight blond hair. Her delicate facial features were all any man could desire. I mounted her with thighs pressed against my stomach, calves over my shoulders, and fucked Rene and only Rene for the rest of the evening. Rene was wide eyed with wonder as I furiously plunged in and out. This was a fucking like when we first met. Thrusting, swirling, bucking hips meeting smashing thrusts. I was panting. She was shrieking. I was growling as she yowled beneath me. I grabbed her junoesque ass and pummeled it with my driving hips burying my engorged member deep into Rene’s streaming cunt. When we came together we both came in quarts, liters, gallons, buckets, rivers, yes oceans of syrupy sluice. The spewing spasms were endless as our au jus mixed and rejoiced as one. The sheets and we were sopping with our lust.
The next day at work I had a nonstop roomful of clients. Debbie would come by and check on our progress throughout the day. She was wearing a bright blue single piece dress which as always was short enough to highlight her sturdy legs, and cut low enough to accentuate her well endowed bust. Male and female clients always delight when Debbie enters the room. She was efficient, pleasant, and always professional. But she never missed an opportunity to lean over my flatbed editing table to give me a glimpse of those amazing breasts. The clients liked it too. Today there was an extra gleam in her eye after Fridays festivities.
The day seemed to go on forever. Splicing and changing then changing some more. As usual by end of business we were back to where we started on the cut. Now the clients liked it because it was theirs. But the day was billed in full and that is always good. The clients cleared out and I was addressing a list of niggles which they would return to view in the morning.
I was cutting away when Debbie strolled in and asked if she could watch.
“Sure.” I said, and hoped I could keep my distraction at bay long enough to finish the changes. Debbie took a seat at the back of the room on a couch and I kept working and got lost in the task at hand.
After a while I heard an exhalation from behind me and swiveled on my chair to see Debbie with her feet adorned in come fuck me pumps up on the coffee table, while she reclined on the couch with her knees splayed wide and four of her fingers buried in her pussy. I started to rise to lend a helping hand but she barked through leaden breath, ”Keep working. Just keep cutting.”
I swiveled back around, but it was highly unlikely that I would get anything done. I just kind of rolled the film back and forth on the flat bed and tried to concentrate. Meanwhile I could hear Debbie’s breathing coming faster and heavier, with little groans emitting from deep in her chest.
“Fine,” she moaned, “If your not going to cut then show it to me.”
I turned back and asked, ”Show you what? This beer commercial?”
“No you bastard, that huge knob on the end of your spindly little dick.” she blurted.
Well I just burst out laughing because I loved hearing that come out of her normally polite and courteous mouth.
“Show me your tits first.” I bargained.
“You show me your dick now or you’ll never see these babies.” She threatened with hitching breath as she was working her thumb in addition to the four fingers up her snatch. Her hand was glistening in the low editing room light. I dropped my drawers and needless to say my spindly cock was hard and standing upright. I looked down at it and didn’t think it looked that spindly. But that huge apple on the end has always more than compensated for any perceived lack of girth elsewhere along its shaft. Debbie gasped at the sight of the orb and her hand slid in her to the second knuckles.
“Did you think of me while you were fucking Rene this weekend.” she asked with a low moan.
“Yes I did.”
“Well I thought about you too. Now sit your skinny ass down and show me how you fuck your hand,” she commanded as she exhaled and clenched her jaw tight. I loved the line of her jaw. There was something strong about it’s square shape that was perfectly accented by her short black hair. I could see she kept the black hair well tended around her nearly fist filled cunt too. As she moaned and worked her hand ever deeper into herself I noticed she was not only watching my cock as I stroked myself, but her eyes had moved down to my prosthetic leg.
“Where is that cut off at,” she asked?
Talking about my amputation started to make me go a little soft, but I told her, “At the ankle.”
“I heard they sewed what was left of the heel over the ankle, is that true”, she asked while still pummeling her pussy with deep thrusts as her whole hand began to disappear inside her.
“Yep,” I said, while intently watching this little sweaty package groaning as she worked her hand further up her twat.
With that her whole body tensed and shivered and she gave out a long guttural howl and collapsed on the couch breathing heavily. I watched enthralled as her hands fell to her sides leaving me with the full panorama of her splayed beaver. I was about to rise because I wanted more than anything to bury my tongue between her thighs, but Debbie collected herself quickly, pulled her dress down and walked towards me. As she passed she ran her still moist hand up the underside of my balls and cock, wiped the pre come off the knob with her finger tip and said, “ I owe you one now.” Then she placed her finger in her mouth and walked out of the room.
I just sat there for a moment with my dick in my hand and wondered what to do next. But I had a smile on my face.
Samhain Rustling
It was then I began hearing sounds from the attic. JoJo was still working the floor with some help from Little Red Riding Hood. Little Bo Peep was shepherding some of the stray lost sheep out the door.
Finally Brunhilda took charge of those that did not succumb to subtlety and the party was cleared.
The soul cakes and colcannon had been devoured and only a few crumbs of the barmbrack were left on the plates. These were not typical here in America on Halloween and I really enjoyed the touch of the Celtic Samhain JoJo had brought to the evening. She never failed to surprise me with her tricks and her treats.
Still I heard noises from her attic. I knew there was an attic, but in spite of the time spent in her home I’d be damned if I could even tell you how to get up there. But clearly there was someone up there. Or something!
Deciding to make myself useful I began tidying up party central. JoJo approached and took my hand and said, “Remember I told you there would be more rules.”
More Rules:
- No cleaning.
- No touching yourself.
Well alright then I thought to myself. While I was still in hand she led me along with LIttle Red Riding Hood and Brunhilda in tow to the rear of the house and through a door I had never before noticed. It was such a small and inclined stairway I feared for Brunhilda’s ascent. But she gracefully climbed the stairway with ease me being urged up the disorienting stairway with JoJo before me and Little Red Riding Hood behind.
It was an attic alright, but spotless. The raw wooden floors had been scrubbed and the bare rafters were immaculate. There were beautiful weaved tapestries between each raft placed with a precise symmetry. The fabric made what could be a stark skeleton of a peaked roof feel warm and very inviting.
A single bare bulb hung in the middle of the space. Rather than being harsh it radiated a diffuse and pleasing light. But what it hovered above grabbed my attention most of all. There on a platform, resting upon what appeared to be a feathery mattress, in the literal spotlight epicenter of this otherwise shadowy attic was the glistening black machine from JoJo’s closet. On the other side of the platform sat a chair. Well, also being on another platform it might best be described as a throne. For effect there was a hanging behind this throne, but in the shadows I could not decipher the pattern upon this tapestry.
If I had felt disoriented coming up the staircase to this next level, my head was swimming with questions, curiosity, uneasiness, and excitement. Like little fish these impressions were swimming around my head and then scattered as the predatory lust fish swam to the surface of my consciousness.
Here I was the only man with three women, Little Bo Peep, LIttle Red Riding Hood, and Brunhilda, all dressed in provocative Halloween’s slutty slant costume regalia. I only knew for sure the identity one of these women. JoJo. As alluring as her already compromised attire was, the fierce rams head mask gave an edge to this developing late night tableo.
Well, make that four women as the Leather Nun appeared out from the attic shadows pushing a cart filled with colorful bottles of lube and phalluses of sizes and shapes to strike any ladies fancy, adorned with various strategic placed nubbins and protrusions designed and designated for her pleasure. The predatory lust fish was skittish and looking for a dark place to hide for a moment.
But Bo Peep and Little Red took my hand and led me to the chair rather than the mechanized feather bed so little lust fish began to peek out even if still intimidated by the out manning display of phallI on the Leather Nuns cart.
Gathering Samhain
JoJo and I have been dating since April. April 1st to be exact. She had given up on relationships. So had I. Over the months I learned she had a special machine tucked away in the back of her closet. I was fascinated by it, but discreet when the topic arose. It rarely if ever did, other than her insinuation she was enjoying her new found toy of late. I will say I am one grateful and lucky toy. But still….
She had a full regalia costume Halloween Party for the past couple years. October was here and she would parse out her holiday party rules to me.
Rules:
-
- Costumes had to include at least a mask of some sort.
-
- Real identities cannot be revealed through out the party.
-
- Don’t ask Don’t tell.
- More rules would follow
The first part of the evening was hors d’oeuvres and cocktails while candy and treats were handed out to the Trick or Treaters. All the little ghouls and goblins were treated well. Some of the party attendees did not answer the door because their costume selection was to risque for this sleepy suburban cul-de-sac community.
Through the evening the party goers would come and go. Some were clearly in for the duration, others recycled and refreshed, would go on with their Halloween revelries elsewhere. Some of her neighbors I recognized, costume and all. Others I did not.
JoJo made about as lascivious a Little Bo Peep imaginable. Her lithe body belied her status as GrandMaMa. The skimpy costume was just the wrong side of decency. But the rams head mask complete with horns that she wore above the sexy Bo Peep branding gave me the shivers. No cute cuddly lambs head for JoJo.
I was intrigued by a diminutive little red riding hood who would occasionally speak in an odd sort of affected Cardiff, Welsh, Scottish accent. Clearly an artifice for the occasion. Childlike in size the voice was that of a woman nonetheless. I found myself watching her move about the room in flowing scarlet robes and a black veil under her riding hood had efficiently obscured her features.
A cameo appearance was made by Peggy, JoJo’s next door neighbor, sufficiently liquored up early and often while dressed in the Naughty School Girl Uniform. Disheveled enough from the boozing to make it less sexy and more victim of a misspent youth in appearance. No attempt was made by Peggy to obscure her identity because, well, that’s Peggy.
Then there was the other person with the genuine Cardiff accent. The leather nun costume was formidable. Voice did not betray gender. The habit had the addition of black leather mask making the striking visage intimidating. The nun emanated command from the corner with the stance of a sentinel assumed. I could not tell if it was to be near the mulled wine or perhaps to remind those to practice restraint from consuming too much mulled wine. But the nun was a presence with a capital P.
There were early Trick or Treaters. The young ones that would look amazed when all they had to say were three magic words and then candy would appear in their sacks. Children bringing their parents around begrudging because they knew they were old enough to go on their own, but the parents disagreed. Then came the teens, Brooding, still young enough to want the candy, but really out to just roam the streets with impunity and scare up just enough trouble to be dangerous. To others and themselves.
Since I had followed JoJo’s strong suggestion that I dress as Gladiator, she tells me I favor Russell Crowe from time to time, I was excused from door duty. Even with mask in place and loins girded it still was not a PG costume. If I had known I would have spent more time at the gym and less at Slammies were JoJo is the bar wench. Oops. Don’t tell her I wrote that.
Although the party had healthy circulation and turn over I noticed Little Red Riding Hood and The Leather Nun were in for the duration. It was toward the end of the evening when Brunhilde made a grand entrance.
Every bit the grand operatic legend. From her prodigious size to her bawdy and booming voice. She took up the room. Unabashedly revealing costume worn well and to great effect, Viking horns with obscuring face guard she was ready for battle. Where the Leather Nun was tall, Brunhilde was wide and massive. Folds of flowing flesh that moved about the room with grace as she embraced those she knew as well as those to whom she had just been introduced with equal joy. Clearly comfortable in herself and the space she owned.
Peggy clearly was enjoying her wine, and apparently my costume was having an effect upon her. As next door neighbor our interactions had always been cordial, but between the mulled wine, the vodka tonics, her day drinking ways, and my costume she seemed to be sending more than her usual attentions my way. JoJo noticed too. But her rams head mask did not allow me any sort of read on her feeling about this attention. But slutty school girl signals Peggy was sending were not lost on anyone in the room. Luckily her husband came to collect her after doing his kiddie trick or treat duty and all was well in the neighborhood again as the party cleared.
Winter Judy Notes 101
I was so enamored with her front side that after weeks of indulging my breast obsession our first reverse cowgirl session was an epiphany for me.
