Sex & Sox

Redhead of the Week, #12

2005-04-19T14:12:00.000-04:00

Happy Tuesday, and welcome to Redhead of the Week! This week's redhead isn't especially attractive to me (browse her gallery here) but that hair... is to die for. It's beautiful, snake-like, almost writhing and alive around her form, and I love it.

Enjoy!

Next week's redhead ... is not to be. I'm done with the site. I've moved so far away from the original intent and lost so much interest in the whole "Sox" part (seriously, I don't think I've watched a minute of baseball news or read a word of it since February) that it's just not keeping my interest anymore.

Thanks for the ride, it's been fantastically fun, but this little corner of the Internet world is up for rent again.

Redhead of the Week, #11

2005-04-12T02:45:00.000-04:00

Happy Tuesday and welcome to Redhead of the Week! This week's redhead is more of an auburn than the fiery women featured so far, but she's quite deliciously curvaceous and I'm quite fond of curves. Also, she's smiling in several of the pictures in her gallery, and that's always a plus.

Enjoy!

Next week's redhead is much less about the woman than her amazing, snake-like hair itself. And no, that's not meant to say she's a Medusa!

Redhead of the Week, #10

2005-04-05T13:12:00.000-04:00

Happy Tuesday, and welcome to Redhead of the Week. This week's redhead is, as promised, quite... wet. She's also terribly thin and pale, but I liked the square shape of her face.

Her gallery can be found here, on a page that always has excellent pictures -- when I can access them.

Enjoy! Next week's redhead is ... borderline red. But she sure is cute!

On a side note -- anyone else having trouble logging into Blogspot/Blogger? It's what kept me from posting til now.

My First MILF

2005-03-30T00:34:00.000-05:00

The time: Nine in the evening on a delightfully warm late March evening.

The place: Right-most elevator in my apartment building -- that is, the one with the extra button that always confuses people.

The people: Me, wearing a tight long-sleeved blue t-shirt and brown corduroys. Sneakers, no bra, and toting a shivering wide-eyed black chihuahua. Her, wearing an over-sized, stained white t-shirt and velvety pink PJ bottoms. Flip-flops, and a basket full of neatly folded laundry.

"Oooh, he's so cute," she says, gazing at my dog with eyes the same moist bistre hue as his. Her lips are curved into a shy smile, making it hard for me to tell her age; late twenties? She looks tired, though, as though the children whose clothes she is toting about have worn her out utterly.

"He's my ferocious guard puppy!" I quip, my usual reply, and we share a short laugh. The elevator doors slide shut, as I realize I've forgotten to press the button for my floor.

I extend my arm just as she does, asking me, "Which floor?" and our fingertips brush. Though the dog cringes back fearfully, I move my hand away slowly, and she looks up at me through her eyelashes. She's shorter than me, older than me, bustier than me, and, for the moment, I'm absolutely infatuated with her.

I exhale, "Eight," and rock back on my heels, studying her. I must be imagining things -- that can't be invitation in that gentle, round face. Her lips are pursed, not puckered. Her stance, with the out-thrust hip, isn't to make curves for my eyes, but for balancing the weight she carries. Those same fingertips that touched me aren't stroking the laundry basket, but tapping it impatiently.

We don't speak. Airy curls of pale wheaten hair have escaped from the tortoise-shell clip confining them, and I make a pretense of looking at anything but where they stroke the soft white skin of her throat, because I am certainly not debating how that flesh would smell, or taste, or feel...

The elevator grinds to a stop and the door rattles open. "Buh-bye," she says, and instead of immediately stepping out as I usually do, I bend over and set the dog down. He promptly starts racing down the hall to our door, leash flailing behind him. "Knows where he lives, mmm?"

"Mmmm..." I agree. I'm blushing. "Have a night nice! Nice night!" I'm stumbling over my words and nearly my feet as I step into the hallway.

"You too!" She leans forward -- dear God, there's a little slash in her shirt collar, over her breasts, and it's not as though I can see anything besides her collarbone, but the blush grows deeper -- and presses the DOOR CLOSE button.

I rush to the apartment, toss a treat to the dog, and strip down. My bed looks inviting and as soon as I close the door (otherwise the puppy will come in and disturb me) I'm on it, spread-eagled, stroking myself.

Did she think of me? Was I reading too much into her actions? Did she go up to her husband when she got home -- she was wearing a wedding ring -- and pull him into the bedroom? Is she feeling good that she aroused such feelings in me? Does she even know? Before the questions are done running through my head, I've come.

I'm lusting after someone's mother.

Redhead of the Week, #9

2005-03-29T13:15:00.000-05:00

Happy Tuesday, and welcome to Redhead of the Week! This picture was forwarded to me by Steve the Mildly Unwell Bastard, and interestingly, I'd already had a gallery of her bookmarked... so decided to use it.

Enjoy! Sorry that I'm late on posting her, by the by. I wish I could say that I was having crazy sex at midnight and just couldn't pull myself away, but really we were doing a few Deadmines runs (if you know what I'm referring to, that's just awesome) and totally forgot.

Next week's redhead is very skinny, very pale, and very wet!

"Image Hosted By..."

2005-03-23T19:07:00.000-05:00

Well, so this is what happens when you get 15,000+ visitors in a week.

Um. Looks like I need to set up a few different image hosting accounts, or else just suck it up and subscribe to a premium account at Photobucket. This is what I get for not hot-linking images from other people's sites!

Thanks everyone for visiting... looks like I'll be playing with graphic arrangements.

Redhead of the Week, #8

2005-03-22T12:00:00.001-05:00

Happy Tuesday, and welcome to Redhead of the Week!

This week's redhead... well... doesn't she have a great smile?

Enjoy!

More images of her can be found here (the first two are hilarious). I kinda like that I've got a picture of a penis on my website. There's actually one that I've been meaning to post... I'll get around to it eventually.

Next week's redhead is, again, a mystery. Still working on straightening out my collection and haven't made a solid choice!

Screw the Pink Hat...

2005-03-18T00:02:00.001-05:00

... I want a pink jersey! With RHINESTONES, natch!

(Thanks Yahoo Photos gallery, and Singapore Sox Fan for the link to it)

Dear God. Someone get me one of those! I will give you the blowjob of your life (or, if you're a woman, will figure out some other way to please you!)

Redhead of the Week, #7

2005-03-15T00:42:00.000-05:00

Happy Tuesday, and welcome to Redhead of the Week! This week's redhead is miss Amy Sweet, a beautiful, curvy Italian model. Other pictures I've seen of her show her as much more of a brunette, which makes this picture all the more special.

It wasn't that there weren't other photos of her in this series, and naked ones, as well. Her eyes caught me here, and this picture was unanimously selected (by a panel of two, but still...!) to be featured.

Enjoy! Next week's redhead is a mystery, since I haven't decided on her yet. Guess that means I have a week of searching to do!

When Good Redheads Go Bad

2005-03-14T17:54:00.000-05:00

As anyone who has browsed Internet porn knows, there's some great stuff out there. There's also some mind-bogglingly bad stuff. I'm not even talking about production value here -- God knows I love some amateur pictures -- but things that, for one reason or another, just aren't as sexy as they're intended to be (at least to this little girl & my assistant judge).

So, when picking out future Redheads of the Week recently, I stumbled upon a plethora of wretched pictures. Here, then, are half a dozen examples of what horror can result When Good Redheads Go Bad (the titles will lead you to their gallery and, as always, they can be clicked to be viewed larger):

Number One:

This was the most inoffensive of the galleries. I hate when I find pictures like this -- ones with a fantastic redhead, that just aren't good enough. Because... look at that couch. Fucking UGLY! It was very disappointing to me that she couldn't be on a better background. That couch is just killer. Beautiful woman, eyesore of a background.

Number Two:

What. The. Fuck.

Hello, Batgirl? Yeah, I found the bitch that stole your mask. She's a flexible little one, too.

Seriously, there's a lot of pictures in this vein lately that I've been stumbling across: these weird frickin masks. Very often there's beads, dildos, and other women involved, but I've never even bothered to get past the fact that they're wearing masks.

Number Three:

One: Your outfit sucks.

Two: Your expression sucks.

Three: Your tits look like lopsided balloons.

Four: You are fucking hanging yourself and masturbating. I'm sorry, but I find absolutely nothing even remotely erotic about asphyxiation. I know some people do, but I don't, and this is my Redhead of the Week. My past pretty much explains that little, dare I say, hang-up.

Number Four:

Okay, the expression's cute. The colours are even cute. But you know what isn't cute?

A naked woman who reminds me of being 14 years old and watching "I Love Lucy" with my little sister. I just can't find arousal in that. Sorry.

Number Five:

You. Look. Like. A. Dude.

Next!

Number Six:

One: Your outfit still sucks.

Two: Your expression still sucks.

Three: Your tits still look like lopsided balloons, though slightly deflated.

Four: ... Really, you're holding a gun. IN YOUR MOUTH. What the fuck is it with that site and women who are on the brink of suicide being sex objects? Seriously...

Now that that's all said and done... a normal and wonderful redhead is coming to you shortly after midnight Eastern!

Redhead of the Week, #6

2005-03-08T12:36:00.000-05:00

Happy Tuesday, and welcome to Redhead of the Week!

It was this redhead's attitude in the series of pictures I took this one from that made me decide on her. I also really liked how not "pornographic" the image is, and how clean. As always, she can be clicked to be viewed larger.

Enjoy! Next week's redhead is a fairly well-known curvy Italian model. I haven't decided on quite which picture of hers I'll be using... but it sure is nice browsing them!

Oh, also -- since I don't think I'm going to be using any of the images at this link (no pop-ups!), go and take a peek. I really enjoy the colours and composition of them, but there wasn't a single image that captivated me.

Tatiana & A Trinity

2005-03-06T19:49:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been genuinely giddy? You know, that feeling where you're delighted, relaxed, and yet exhilarated all at once, where the laughter (or giggles!) just won't stop coming?

That was how I felt last night, after they made me orgasm.

I am a notoriously difficult woman to make orgasm. Before my current boyfriend, I had never had someone make me cum; certainly, I had done it to myself, and with someone encouraging me, but giving myself over completely to another person's touch had never culminated in it. Even now, when the better half goes down on me, it usually takes so long that his tongue and jaw get sore and I'll end up asking him to stop and stroking myself to climax.

This was not a problem last night, when Milla and Bruce (points if you know why I chose those psuedonyms) were taking turns lavishing my pussy and clit with attention. For nineteen months, I've felt that I'm a very lucky woman; I know I am now, for this is indeed the couple I've written about before (I also discovered that there's actually an excellent reason why things have taken so long to reach this juncture between the four of us).

I could write about the entire night, but it was the same as most visits we make with them: we chat, listen to music, eat a fantastic dinner, get into the heavy drinking, and flirt. Then, usually, my boyfriend and I leave, with me about as horny as humanly possible. But this time, we didn't. This time, we were all sitting on the couch together, touching, laughing, with Milla stripping off her top and bra to model her leather corset, and me soon following suit to try it on as well.

A corset is a sexy fucking piece of clothing. A leather corset is sexier. Curves are accentuated, and in my case, cleavage suddenly appears. It was seeing her and touching her in that, running my hands along the sides and over her breasts (larger than mine, but not overwhelmingly so) that pushed me over the edge; then, wearing it myself and being admired brought my arousal to a fever pitch.

I honestly don't remember what happened between when I took the corset off and when my boyfriend stood, holding her hand, and started walking towards the guest bedroom. I do know that Bruce and myself followed, and a few minutes later she and I were lying on the bed with my boyfriend sitting on one side of the bed while her husband watched from the other. The lights were off, candles flickering, and the world's sexiest album, Massive Attack's "Mezzanine", for background music.

Her shirt was tugged up and she hadn't put her bra back on (neither had I), and I laid beside her with a goofy grin, propped up on one elbow, trailing my fingers over her taut stomach and silky breasts. I'm amazed at how ... smooth women are, and this manifested itself in one of my childish moments: I squealed, "Is she not just... sooo... pretty?!"

I wasn't long before I brought my mouth to her nipple. This, I liked; feeling it stiffen at the touch of my tongue, feeling how warm and soft the rest of her breast was, cupping the weight of the other in my hand. We kissed, her lips pliant under mine, and I kept my eyes open to look at her -- a strange thing, I know, but what felt right.

Somewhere along the line, we got naked; I was leaning over her when she pushed me back and, smiling, started to make her slow way, with lips and fingers and tongue, down my body.

There is something exquisite about being part of an exhibition for men to admire. As anyone, I have my hang-ups; they faded away under the gaze of her husband and the quick, encouraging smile of my boyfriend. I watched her, trying to keep myself from pressing my pussy to her mouth as she kissed my inner thighs, her dark eyes gazing up at me as she moved closer and closer to it.

Then ... as I laid there wet, hot, aching, amazed, she slid her tongue between my nether lips and over my clit, and it felt heavenly. It's not that what she did was so different from what other people have done; it was the fact that this was a woman 'servicing' me, her slender fingers slipping into my pussy, her pierced tongue flicking at me, those lily-petal lips glistening with the same moist sensuality that we share, her chin and cheeks like satin against my skin. I felt bad that I hadn't shaved clean, as I prefer, and that my hair, short though it is, was rough upon her.

Soon, we had the men involved, her husband caressing her thighs and ass with his mouth while stroking my legs, and my boyfriend alternating between sucking and biting my nipples (I am quite fond of pain-as-pleasure).

"Come here," I begged her between my whimpering and moaning, but I was too quiet to break through how intent she was. "Milla," I tried again, "c'mere, please," and I remember someone chuckling as my boyfriend pulled away, then our lips met and I was licking my juices from her mouth. Her breasts pressed to mine, and I moved to tweak one of her nipples. "Thank you," I whispered, and saw her smile, "it felt surreal." I remember that she looked back at Bruce, and then he was going down on me. His face looked smooth, but after having had a woman there, the difference was unbelievable. The scratchiness of his stubble heightened how soft and experienced his lips and tongue were, and I nearly orgasmed from that alone, but mellowed quickly and enjoyed the sensations of having not-my-man attending to my clit.

I think... think... it was then that I reached for my boyfriend, unfastening his pants and pulling his cock into my mouth, but it could have been earlier; honestly, I've been remembering the entire experience with such fond fogginess all day that the memories blur. Whenever it was, it didn't last long before he moved around to the other side of the bed to be closer to Milla, and as she sucked my nipples, I looked down the length of her body to see him kissing at her body.

One of my hands stroked her, the other caught in Bruce's hair; all I could think, when I managed thought, was how fucking lucky I was, to be there as the focus of three people's erotic attentions. Eventually he pulled away and she replaced him, and as she worked me I thought, "Oh, God, I'm not going to be able to cum, and I want to, and they're going to think I didn't enjoy all this as much as I have," before forcing myself to get a grip and relax -- because if I kept thinking like that, it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

As soon as I had pushed those thoughts from my head, my boyfriend pressed his lips to my ear and started growling about how fucking sexy this was, how much he was enjoying watching, and various sundry phrases, and before I knew it, my body was beginning to tremble and my breath coming shorter, and I was begging her not to stop, and he was still whispering to me but sound meant nothing because sensation was everything, and an intense orgasm swept over me, making me shudder and gasp -- but she didn't move away from me. Her lips stayed against my clit, and I started giggling, because she knew exactly how little pressure to apply to keep me feeling pleasure without it being too much -- because, of course, she is a woman, and knows where that line is herself.

For sexual activity, that was it. After I stopped laughing and kissed everyone and thoroughly thanked them (and told her that I owe her big time and look forward to reciprocating), we all settled into chatting, my naked body curled around hers. "You were more vocal than anyone else we've had in our bed," Bruce told me, and as I replied, "Oh! I was trying to be quiet," my boyfriend said, "That... was her being quiet." I'm a talker.

Eventually, it was "bed" time, which I'm certain meant each couple fucking in different rooms -- they in their bedroom, us in their guest room.

I've been wanting what happened last night since my boyfriend told me they were open to the idea, over a year ago. It was well worth the wait.

And I? I am one lucky woman.

Redhead of the Week, #5

2005-03-01T00:04:00.000-05:00

Happy Tuesday, and welcome to Redhead of the Week! What a long frickin' week it's been, too.

This week's redhead's pale gray eyes and pouty lips were nearly as attractive to me as that lustrous coppery hair, and I appreciated the fact that I was able to see her in three different "outfits" in her gallery here (no popups!) There are nude photos there, but since I couldn't decide which of them I liked best, I ended up choosing this one because the bikini's so adorable!

As always, she can be clicked to be viewed larger.

Next week's redhead... is wearing nothing but boots!

Commandeer me, Baby!

2005-02-28T00:17:00.000-05:00

Any man who can wear this....

(Thank you, Yahoo Images)

... and still look unbearably sexy is a fucking god.

Look at that little peek of cummerbund. I'm so all about him. I want him to captain my vessel all over the seven seas, and then some.

A Rose By Any Other Name...

2005-02-25T16:39:00.000-05:00

This story, about a female runner from Zimbabwe who was actually a male, is interesting in several aspects.

One -- are female athletes in that country that masculine, or was he just very feminine?

Two -- a "witchdoctor" basically declared him to be woman.

Three -- don't athletes undergo physicals?

Four -- his last name is Sithole *gigglesnort*

Sex Blog Addition

2005-02-24T11:41:00.000-05:00

I read several blogs, many of which aren't listed on the sidebar here because they don't fit neatly in to one category or the other. But one which I have added (along with finally getting around to changing the name of Sam's site) is that of Steve the Mildly Unwell Bastard.

If you've got reservations about getting addicted to yet another blog, just go and read this entry. Okay, it might be hotter to a woman, but ... well, like I mentioned to him when we chatted last night, it's practically an orgasm in a website. And that's another thing -- he's very cool to talk to. I realized we think alike in quite a few things and we could've talked longer than we did.

Too bad I don't have any naked pictures to send him.

Oh! And to make this post even further palatable to the ladies, ErosBlog is running a "Top Cock" of the week, picking from entries that her readers send in. While I have little to no interest in receiving such mail (sorry!), it's been interesting to go look.

As to that... wellllll... just imagine standing behind them. And looking at all those tight bums. Mmmmm-hmmmm.

I <3 Thongs

2005-02-23T15:17:00.000-05:00

This is a cut and post of my take on a conversation on a bulletin board I'm a member of, after a bit of chit-chat back and forth between people about teenage girls looking like "sluts" because they wear hip-huggers that expose their thongs, and them talking about how they're going to control their children's clothing and behaviour.

Here goes -- all of this is opinion, of course, a rather strong one, but opinion nonetheless, and I'm certainly not trying to slap people's wrists and tell them they're wrong. I'm simply not that kind of person. Anywhere that I've used "us", "we", and "you", I'm referring to people who are 'adults', in whichever sense of the word you wish to use.

North American culture is uncomfortable with the maturation of its children. There are few rituals we can point towards and say, "Look -- this child is now an adult in the eyes of our community." The nearest thing to this is the Jewish Bar/Bat Mitzvah, and even that has become a commercialized party rather than a spiritual celebration and welcoming.

Do we take our children aside and discuss sexuality with them? Do we celebrate the changes of their body, support their explorations of self, and invite their questions? Do we discuss what sex is ideally? No -- we give them the basics (his thingie goes in your private parts and you can get pregnant) or, worse, leave it to Sex Ed. classes where the environment is one of embarassment and laughter. Having to study and learn these basic physical functions/reactions of your body in a place where you are surrounded by other young adults that have been conditioned to be uncomfortable with themselves is not conducive to a positive experience.

However, as these young adults are exposed to the media, as they invariably are, they learn an entirely new commercialized view of sex and what "being sexy" entails. This sense of sexiness doesn't involve knowing and understanding yourself and your partner(s), but rather the eager pursuit for the pinnacle of perfection.

Teenagers are sexual. We all are. It's a basic, primal fact of human existence. And, instead of letting sex become an issue about which our youth are thoroughly educated, we shroud it in taboo and mystery. What is more intriguing, when one is rebelling, than that which is forbidden? The teens I knew were all practically frothing at the mouth to toss away their virginity on the first likely suitor.

Do we tell our children anything about pleasure? No -- we don't even acknowledge it. Sex is something to be feared, because it can lead to pregnancy and disease.

So then, young adults have sex, and if something goes wrong, or they have questions, their entire upbringing pushes them away from the people who have truthful answers (or know where to get them) -- their parents.
Our culture leaves its youth to discover their sexuality, and what it entails, with no intelligent source of positive, factual information. I think this is a shame.

The cliche goes, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Modified, we can apply this to the situation: "If you can't eradicate it, embrace it." The exploration of such a basic need cannot be eradicated. (I'm reading a book called "The History of Celibacy" right now, so who knows what new kinds of things I'll learn about that particular thought!)

I am certainly not saying to encourage young adults to have sex with anyone that crosses their path. I do feel, however, that we have a responsibility to teach them about it, and not leave that task to others.

As to the entire "revealing" clothing thing, looking at it solely from a female perspective, we have this: teenage girls do not know how to be comfortable with, or in, their growing bodies. If what they're wearing makes them feel sexy and us feel uncomfortable, whose feelings are we more concerned with? Do we exclaim, "Wow, honey, you look really grown-up and beautiful in that!" or do we demand, "Go get changed, you shouldn't be wearing that."

Not being far from a teenager myself, as well as having a sister that age, and being an avid reader of books dealing with any aspect of sexual anthropology, I can confidently say that the latter is certainly damaging to the psyche. You are invalidating your child's sense of self -- but even moreso, teaching her to distrust you and simply hide who she is, what she wears, and how she feels until she has left your sight. The distrust comes from the sense that as a teenaged girl, no, you simply cannot identify with nor confide in your parents.

I feel grateful to have a mother who, while she certainly didn't approve of everything I did, never made me feel ugly or like I couldn't talk to her about something.

Redhead of the Week, #4

2005-02-22T00:02:00.000-05:00

Happy Tuesday and welcome to Redhead of the Week.

I almost stopped looking for other redheads after this one. She is absolutely fucking beautiful, with a wholesome look to her (obviously exploited by the photographer in this particular shot) wholly belied by the inviting arch of her eyebrows and the sensual curve of her back.

I do have a high quality version of this image available, much larger, via e-mail.

Enjoy (I know I did)! Next week's redhead is wearing a swimsuit, and I'll even provide a link to a gallery of images where she isn't!

Mid-day Mush

2005-02-21T14:50:00.000-05:00

I love when he leaves my knees weak in the middle of the day.

I love lying there with his cum on my breasts, making my nipples glisten.

I love how that smile comes to his lips as he kisses my thighs and watches me stroke myself.

I love his fingers pumping in and out of me, caressing all the right spots, so that I writhe and whimper and moan at his touch.

I love sitting here in the afterglow, being in love.

Graphics for the Yankee Fan

2005-02-20T03:05:00.000-05:00

There are people who actually like the Yankees.

No, really.

Okay, so I got a few good laughs out of it.

As for this, well... Boston fans DO make better lovers!

The Disappearing Man

2005-02-18T01:33:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time, there was this man who worked at a newly-opened Advance Auto Parts store that I went into with my family because my mom needed... some little car part or something. I don't remember, because I was busy looking at the man.

His name was Kevin, and he wasn't much taller than I was, but looked just adorable in his red dress shirt and clean black baseball cap. His eyes were dark, but at the same time literally sparkling, and he had a hard time taking them off me to talk to my mother (his customer).

I didn't talk to him then, just smiled and glanced up at him through my eyelashes. When we left, my mom and sister both said, "Geez... he was really in to you."

When I got home, I called the operator to get the number for that store -- since it was still celebrating the "Grand Opening" sale, it couldn't be found in the phone book. Then, I called.

"Advance Auto, Kevin speaking."

"Kevin, hi... umm, I'm Tatiana, I was just in there with my mom, I was wearing the black..."

"OH! Yeah, I remember you. Hi... uhh... is something wrong?"

"No, I just wanted to call you."

"I was hoping I'd talk to you again."

I grinned. "Do you want to get together sometime?"

"S-sure! What's your number?" I could hear him scrambling around for pen and paper, and his co-workers teasing him. It was cute.

I gave him my number (I don't remember what it was) and spelled out my name for him. Since I was living alone, it was fine for him to call me anytime, and that night at 11 pm he did.

The next night, he took me out to eat Chinese, and we spent a few hours in the park afterwards, chatting.

We hadn't kissed, but we were sitting close together, and I rubbed my lips against his cheek. "I'm glad you didn't shave," I purred, "I like a little bit of stubble." This is very true -- I adore all things manly, whether it's stubble, chest hair, sweat, or a penis (I fucking LOVE those things!).

He kissed me then, and I admit that I thought of Rhett's line from Gone With the Wind: "You need to be kissed, and often, by someone that knows how to kiss." He knew how to kiss.

We ended up going back to my place because a Red Sox game was on (hey! I know my priorities), though I admit to watching very little of it as my attention was mostly on him. When the game was over, I turned my head from the television and pulled him up towards me, sliding my hand down the front of his pants.

He looked faintly nervous and said, "I don't like to sleep with a girl on our first date."

Okay. For most women, a comment like this melts them. It froze my heart. "You don't? Why? What if I want you to?"

Men must not be used to forward women, because he'd already confessed to being amazed (and pleased) by the initiative I put into calling him, and now he was staring at me like I was made of sugar and he was afraid I'd dissolve away if he touched me again... but wouldn't it be nice to get in a few licks?

We ended up fucking like animals, and he spent the night. He was a fantastic lay. In the morning, I got up and made him coffee, and we ate toast together before he went home.

For a few weeks, we had a routine. He'd come over after work, we'd fuck, he'd usually sleep over and then in the morning, I'd make him coffee while I got ready for work (I had a 9-5 office job that my mother drove me to) and he'd leave before my mom got there.

He started asking about commitment. I was honest: "Kevin, I'm not sticking to one man. Sure, I enjoy being with you, lots, but I'm not getting tied down. You're free to do the same, I don't expect you to be exclusive to me."

He didn't like that I wouldn't commit to him, but I didn't see a problem with it. If he wanted ass, I was available, and I'd even make him coffee in the morning. If we were working the same shift (which happened very rarely), I'd call him before I left for lunch to see if he wanted anything; if he did, I'd pick him up some food and drop it off at his work. It was casual, and I really enjoyed it.

Then, one day, he stopped calling, and stopped showing up at my house. I was too proud to call him; I was not going to chase after the man. I'd still see his truck at work, or driving around town, but that was it: the relationship was over.

I still laugh to think of it now, and wonder what the hell went wrong. I mean, certainly, I would rather have my man now than anyone I've ever even fantasized of being with (this means you, Colin Farrell), but it still amazes me that the guy had a woman fucking him and making him coffee... and he disappeared!

These Ain't Warm and Fuzzies...

2005-02-16T22:54:00.000-05:00

Thanks to one of my readers (that sounds so pretentious), I was pointed towards this thread on the SoSH boards, where Curt posts as gehrig38 and has been given a custom title...

... I can't fuckin wait for the baseball season to start again.

Redhead of the Week, #3

2005-02-15T00:17:00.000-05:00

When I first saw this picture, it was the beautiful gold corset that captured my attention. Then the red hair... then her curvy form... then the mirror, and finally, those pouty little nether lips in the reflection. She doesn't have that intentionally sultry gaze so common in pornographic photos, which I found refreshing -- it's not even a come-hither look, more the look of someone who's just been caught admiring herself and doesn't give a fuck that she was.

Next week's redhead is... stunning (vulvalicious, one might say). Absolutely the most beautiful one I've come across yet, and, like last week's, she has freckles.

I Can Taste Success!

2005-02-14T02:27:00.000-05:00

I'm well on my way to writing a cheesy romance novel! Or at least... according to this guy I am.

I swear, someday my mother's going to find out about this site, and I'm going to have some explaining to do.

Just a Lil Update

2005-02-11T22:21:00.000-05:00

I'm still around, anxiously waiting for pitchers and catchers to report.

I've got a little entry-type thing I'm working on that'll be up... sometime before next Tuesday's Redhead.

It's been a slow few weeks for me, and I think I'm about all storied out. I've debated writing fictional erotica just for the hell of it, to get the site through the rest of the off-season, so some of that might possibly -- and I mean there's a very slim chance of it -- be coming up.

I'd also like to arrange for 'guest' bloggers (preferably female, but males are welcome) if anyone's interested. Sex or Sox, or both, whichever floats your boat -- my email address is in the sidebar.

I get quite a few visitors from search engines, which makes me giggle. "Knee high schoolgirls" (I pray that was related to socks and not midgets) has been popular lately, as has "Red Sox hairstyles" (please tell me some Korean team isn't copy-catting them), and "www.xnxx.com" (WTF, if you can go to a search engine, you can type that in the address bar). I've also gotten people here for "freetime sex", "toronto anal prostitute", and "red sox nightgown" (to whoever's mom was looking for that one, I am profusely sorry that you ended up on the antique-nightgown-vampire entry).

Oh, and, if anyone's not seen it yet, or at least not lately, here's the fairly unimpressive -- yet inspiring! -- Fenway webcam.