Sexkitten

LONGER ORGASMS

Orgasms never last long enough.

Never.

No matter how good it is, it's always over too soon.

I ask two girlfriends how long their orgasms last. Both women said less than a minute. One guy said two minutes.

Do men have longer orgasms than women? I doubt it, but if I’m wrong, I want to know how to get two minutes.

I watched porn for few hours last night—straight hardcore in-and-out fucking. Pussies and cocks all size and shapes and colors. And equally fascinating to me was the expression on their faces, pleasure looks so much like pain.

I had three orgasms within two hours and I was still not satisfied. The damn orgasms were over too soon. Shouldn’t three orgasms within such a short time exhaust me?

Of all the things that I could be thinking about this morning, of all the issues facing the world, politics, world hunger, homelessness, fatherless children, poverty, global warming, all I wanted to know was how to have longer orgasms.

I’m sure that we get such a brief taste for a reason. We expend so much energy that it drains us physically. Isn’t that why we usually fall asleep afterward?

But wouldn't it be something if we could remain in an orgasmic state for say 3 minutes? Three mind-blowing, sending-shivers-up-my-spine, body-erupting, toe-curling ecstasy—wouldn’t it be something if we could freeze the moment—freeze the moment it starts, a subtle shiver that keeps getting bigger, more intense until your body is no longer under your control. That subtle shiver now a plethora of sensations, tingles, tremors, pain and pleasure so strong and commanding we have no choice but to give in. Your muscles tighten and ties you in knots you cannot untangle and do not want to. Your mind registers nothing but pleasure. You have no control. None.

We’re all slaves, stripped of all defenses, the ones we use so convincingly everyday to hide this part of ourselves. We spread our legs wide, wider, and beg, fuck me. We love it don’t we, to be so fucking shameless, so open. And for a brief moment we get to let go and feel everything that we are all at once without reason. We don’t give a shit about anything right now, except pleasure. This is what we hold onto as if for our lives when our body explodes and forces us into submission.

How often do we scream the way we do in the throes of ecstasy? How often do we close our eyes tight and hold on for our lives as our pussy pumps every drop of cum from our man?

That’s how I am all the time. Open. Shameless. Exposed and feeling everything all at once.

I WANT IT

I feel like a booty call.

In my previous post I bragged about Nick. I'm not taking any of it back--but damn, I'm feeling neglected right now. I got dick one day this week. It does not matter that I got it three times within a twelve hour time frame.

I'm not going to get cock tonight and I'm not going to get it tomorrow. I'm not getting it again until next Saturday. And fuck it, I want my cock. I want my lips. I want my intimacy.

Yes, I'm greedy. I'm demanding. I want it.

All of this complaining my be due to PMS. If it's not, that's what it's going to be.

I didn't answer the phone when Nick called few minutes ago. I'm not above bitching and throwing around false accusations, nor am I above making unreasonable demands.

Last month same time, I threw a tantrum about his ex-girlfriend and had to apologize.

I know that he communicates with her and I don't care. I communicate with my plenty of my exes with no apologies and no intention of stopping. When his phone rang and I saw that it was her, "Your ex is calling," I called out to him in the other room.

"I'll call her later," he called back.

"I want you to answer," I said walking toward him. I hands him the phone. It stops ringing.

"Call her back," I said.

"I'll call her later," he said. He continued sifting throw his mail.

"Why won't you talk to her with me here? I said.

He looks up, "He you jealous, baby?" he asked smiling at me.

I didn't smile back.

"What do you talk about with her? Why are you still talking to her any way? Is it over or isn't it? I hate her,''

I couldn't shut up. My voice was getting loud. I was consumed with anger/jealousy.

Stop it. This is not you. You don't lose control like this. You don't get jealous. My little voice said.

Bullshit. It happens all the time. I'm just good at catching myself. I ended up threatening to leave him and stomping out of his house. That night I called and apologize.

Nick travels ALOT. I knew that when I met him. I didn't care--not really. I have a full life. Career. Kids. Work-out. Friends. I don't want anyone who needs so much time that they interfere with me taking care
of business.

I wanted to miss him. I like the anticipation. I like the long awaited fuck(s).
Would we have lasted this long if he didn't travel so much?

Nick is typically gone 3-4 days out of the week. I didn't see him all week and even though he's back in town, he's spending one-on-one time with his boys this weekend. I was invited but T and I are hanging
out. (And the crap T's been putting me through--for sanity's sake I've taken up chanting) but that's another story for another day.

I call Nick my weekend lover. When I accepted the nature of his job, I also chose to trust him completely. I don't question his faithfulness to me. But I got up this morning feeling neglected. I want closeness. I want intimacy. I waited all week last week. I got him for half a day. It's not enough.

I love booty calls. When I'm not in a serious relationship, I'll take booty calls all night and day too. But I'm committed and faithful to him. And right now there too much waiting and not enough loving.

SEXY FELINE

I squealed with delight as Nicholas grabs and pulls me into the bathroom. He pulls me against him and plants tiny kisses on my neck.

"How long are you going to love me like this?" he whispered into my ear.

I pushed my ass against his cock. An hour before, he mounted and had his way with me. My pussy was still wet and full of him--still sore and ready again if he choses to stick his cock in again. His scent was all over me. HE was all over me.

What special acts of love I was bestowing on him was beyond me. I love him the way he deserves. He gives so much of himself to me.

"You didn't answer my question," he said.

"As long as you keep treating me the way you do," I said

This got me thinking...

Funny how even lovers with whom I devote little of myself feels that I give so much to them. The fact is, I treat others how they treat me.

In an article I read yesterday, a woman wrote that when a man treats her "good", she feels that something is wrong with him. This article was about women who were having difficulty finding men and or true love.

This isn't normal, is it? Am I the only one who finds this bizarre?

If we do not feel that we are deserving of love, how can we appreciate it? How can we nurture and feed it? And how can we give it back?

I want to be treated better than good. In fact, I demand to be treated like the most adorable, loved sexy feline who walks this earth.

I'm deserving.

And shouldn't our first stipulation from everyone, intimate partners or not, be that they treat us well?

Should we all not expect to be showered with affection?

Touch?

Taste?

Sex?

Passion?

If we do not have these things, what do we have? And what is going to keep us close and intimate?

It's because Nicholas treats me so well and I revel in his affection that he can ask such a question.

I treat his cock like gold. He can stick it inside me anytime. He can stick it into my ear if he wants. And even when he lay exhausted beside me, his cock limp against his leg, I will reach for it. I can't help myself.

His lips are never hungry for a kiss. His eyes never starve for the sight of my naked body. I grab on to everything he gives me and gives back ten-fold.

He is a man richly rewarded. He's deserving.

NICHOLAS

Those who know me will attest that my ability to accept and deal with situations as they are, good, bad and ugly are inherent characteristics that I possess.

I am a no-nonsense woman.

I pride myself on being strong and in control.

Sensible.

Level headed.

Objective.

I pride myself on being true to myself no matter how difficult it maybe. But I'm not above playing a fool's game.

"We need to talk," Big C said one day when I picked up little C.

I sat down at his kitchen table.

"Do you want tea?"

"Yes," I said.

He placed a steaming cup before me and sat down.

"This new guy you're seeing, what's the deal with him?" He asked.

"He's still not open for discussion," I said.

He sipped his tea. Set it down and looked at me. He seldom looks me in the eye--something that unnerves me. Something that always reminds me...there's something wrong with this man.

"You need to end it right now," He said.

I took a sip of my tea. "How many sweet & low did you put in this? It's too sweet," I said.

"Do you hear me?"

"That's not going to happen," I said.

"Don't get stubborn about this, Kitten,"

I didn't answer.

"You see that?" he points at a picture of us with the boys,"

"It's a nice picture," I said.

In this picture we looked like a happy, family. It was taken at a time when we were both fucking other people. We were out one day and an elderly woman commented on us being a beautiful family.
He handed the woman his camera and asked her to take a picture. We cuddled up to teach other and smiled.

It's a beautiful picture.

Still, he and I are always fucking other people. It's how we started and I will bet a finger at this point that that's how we'll end.

For a long time, whenever those relationships end we sit around and pretend. What I didn't realize until recently is that the image of US as we are in the picture had was something I could not bring myself to deal with. But it remained all these years in the shadow, a silent wish? hope? Dream? I don't know but it was there. And deep, deep down, I was holding on to a dream.

But it was a dream based on pure madness. He doesn't treat me well. Never did.
He lies
Cheats.
Manipulates.

He has good points, but the negatives are stacked high against the positives.

He's a good fuck.
But he's not a loving caring partner.

He makes promises.
He never keeps them.
And at the end of the day, I feel like crap for associating with him.

I've heard this speech many times before over the past five years. I hear it everytime I start dating a new man. If my relationships last for more than three months he would sit me down and have this conversation. It wasn't the first one we had about my new beau.

He touched my face.

"Kitten," I moved away. And I stared at him. He kept his eyes on the table and was fidgeting with his hands. I kept looking. It's amazing what we see when we decide to really look at someone with an objective mind. I saw a man aging and unwilling to grow up.

His hair is thinning and fifty percent gray. Lines are starting to crease around his lips. He spends a great deal of time on-line preying on twenty year olds, telling them that he's thirty-two. (I saw his profile online) ,

He's forty-five and has no idea what he wants to do with himself. Yet here he was again, telling me to give my man who treats me like god's ggreatest creation--for him

I felt like laughing.

I know this for sure...I'm a good woman.

It can't be good to never grow up when the years are piling on. No one waits for forever. Dreams do die--sometimes we have to let them go, because sometimes we convince ourselves that we want things that's not good for us.

And yes, even hope, I realize can give way to something else.

What he was afraid of happening has already happened.

All I could think about was Nicholas.

I've been seeing him for the past year.

Of all the men who has loved me, no one, and I mean no one, loves me the way he does.

CURIOSITY

It was not my intention to stay away so long. I was going to take a month or so off, but things got out of hand.

"Kitten?" the person on the other end asked one day. I didn't answer. A million scenarios flashed through my mind. Who the hell is this? How did they find me? What the fuck?

"You have the wrong number," I said.

"This is your number. Your real name is xxxxxx,"

I couldn't believe it.

"Who is this?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

"Who is this?" I said again.

He hung up.

I was terrified. My secret wonderful world crushed. My first thought was to close the site immediately. Using a fake name doesn't protect my privacy. I didn't even think to get my phone number unlisted. Unfreaking-believable!

I became paranoid constantly watching my back, checking everthing twice, thinking all kinds of crazy shit.

I was aching to write, instead I unplugged the computer. I stopped answering emails. I cut all ties with my blog world.

So why did I come back? Because Kitten doesn't give up things that she loves and which makes her happy. I refuse to be scared away. That's too much control over my life and I don't function that way.

I've made some changes and taken extra precautions to protect my identity. And for the record, if I didn't have the boys and the type of job that I do, this wouldn't be an issue. I'm a in your face, have-nothing-to hide-kind-of-woman. But I do understand the risks. I understand that using this forum to express myself opens me up and puts me at risk for intrusion.

I understand that.

Here's the deal. For those who may feel inclined to find me, for whatever reason, DONT. My privacy is important to me so please respect it. If you need to correspond with me outside of this blog, my email address is on the site, use it. I can't promise to respond. I don't respond to everything and everyone but it's the best I can offer. But showing up unexpected and uninvited is not going to work for anyone.

Should I not be surprised that curiosity would drive some to track me down? And am I being naive and unrealistic? Perhaps. But I still expect it.

And now it's time to get back to discovering myself.

Many Kisses!

This site has been calling to me. I miss coming here. This story is far from over. I have so much to share with you. The the best yet to come.

My New Year's Resolution is to get this site going again. I can't begin to tell you how wonderful I feel sitting here. Thanks to all of you who have followed me over the years. I appreciate you.

Many kisses.