Monday, March 26, 2012

Ten Random Sexy Things That Blow My Socks Off #GBE2

I'm offering way TMI, in the form of Ten Random Sexy Things That Blow My Socks Off, but here goes, anyway.

This post was inspired by the #GBE2 prompt: Make a list and title it.

Except, being a rebel, I'm not posting till Monday, and they are all supposed to be posted by Saturday the 24th.  ( I much prefer to think of myself as a rebel than simply as your normal writer, over committed and running behind deadline.)

1. Da-da-da-da-da-da-dum, Batman!

Yes, Batman was one of my earliest crushes, and retains a warm spot in my heart.  Adam West had an incredibly sexy mouth, IMO.  Apparently I have a fetish for men wearing capes and being tied up, because I always got a girly little thrill every time Batman was about to meet an untimely death by being drowned in chocolate or some such. (Although Robin, on the other hand, I wouldn't have cried over, call me cold.)  Batman's slightly cross-eyed look did not bother me then, for some reason.  And ya gotta love a man who always carries the perfect tool for every job in his utility belt.

2. Baseball.

I believe I was keeping score before I learned how to keep score.  Go, Dodgers! Thinking of the Steves, Garvey and Sax, and later, my sexy Mike catchers, Scioscia and Piazza.  (I actually met Mike Scioscia, at the height of his thinner, dimpled adorableness, but I had another guy with me at the time.  Aah, lost opportunities!)

There's something extremely sexy about a man with soft hands... Not to mention Kevin Costner in Bull Durham, and his "I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days."

Oh, my!

3.  Styx, circa 1980's

I saw Styx in concert on their Paradise Theatre Tour, and for the first time, I understood deep in my... let's call it heart, the concept of the groupie thing.  Everybody was so irresistably sexy, from Mr. Romance (and cynicism) Dennis DeYoung to pretty boy Tommy Shaw to growly James Young to those other two guys whose names I always forget... but even they were hot.  Given the opportunity, I would have had the whole show, five guys, and that's a natural fact.

4. Erica Jong, Fear of Flying

I totally fell in love with the concept of a zipless fuck.  Still am.
The zipless fuck is absolutely pure. It is free of ulterior motives. There is no power game . The man is not "taking" and the woman is not "giving." No one is attempting to cuckold a husband or humiliate a wife. No one is trying to prove anything or get anything out of anyone. The zipless fuck is the purest thing there is. And it is rarer than the unicorn. And I have never had one.


Ye-ah.  I always thought spas were for the effete. that real women, secure in their bodies and sexuality, didn't need a girly day at the spa.

And then a day job client gifted me with a spa treatment, and, being a thrifty soul, I didn't want her gift certificate to go to waste, after all.

Holy aromatherapeutic footrub, Batman, I have been missing out on one of the greatest pleasures of life!

I love sex.  Love love love sex.  Yet, if I had to choose, between actual sex vs. being rubbed, massaged, getting a facial (not that kind!) and the many other ways one is pampered at a day spa... I might well choose the spa.

If you have never yet been to a day spa, if that's one of the To-Do things on your Bucket List... Do it, now.  Before 2012 comes to a close.  (Warning: Spa Treatments = Highly Addictive.)

6. sex. lies, and videotape.  I swear, I could've given Cynthia's interview, because I, too, was surprised and shocked at the... shall we say, textured quality of a peen.

7. Skye O'Malley by Beatrice Small.

Holy early erotica, Batman!  Deflowerings, rape, incest, bestiality, amnesia sex, harem sex, FWB sex - oops, I forgot the lesbian sex!

Does anybody have a count as to how many times our heroine, Ms. Skye, gets it on with somebody in this book?  Now - not that there's anything wrong with that - here's a girl we wonder how she can even walk, given all the sex she's having. (Are you paying attention, RL?)

And then there's the food porn.  Endless descriptions of roasts and baby snow peas, freshly baked breads and confections and beverages.  It makes me gain weight just reading the descriptions, but mind you, given her amorous activities, Skye prolly needs the extra calories.

And the clothes porn.  Velvets. satins, lace underthings, the finest muslin.  Frequent baths, too, and teeth cleanings.  It may be a time when most people only bathed once a year, if that, but trust me, if you're riding the mattress as frequently as Madam Skye, you need to wash a bit more often. (Mind you, looked at through today's filter of Political Correctness, there are many, many offensive things about this novel. But at the time it was written, women and men felt differently about things like sex under coercion.)

 8. The Pleasure Chest

Remember in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, when Judy Garland as Dorothy opens the door into this fantasmic place?

"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," she says.

That's the experience, if you've never been, of walking into The Pleasure Chest.  Aisles and aisles of different flavored lube. The leather harness sections.  The vibrator and dildo sections, which, frankly, scared the stuffing out of me.  A floor mounted one, two feet high?  Really?  (Please tell me it's an, uh, conversation piece.)

One thing that sticks in my brain from a visit many year ago , was the handkerchief code chart, for gay men.  Apparently, the color handkerchief and placement (left or right back pocket) signaled all kinds of things about one's sexual preferences, from Cowboy on Horse to... well, I'll let you find out on your own.

If you have never been to a high class and extensive sex toy shop like the Pleasure Chest, go. Take a girlfriend or bodyguard, but go. Like Dorothy, you'll never look at Kansas the same way again.

9. Hitachi's Magic Wand
Yep.  You know.  One of my former flames called this model "The Jackhammer."

Well, sometimes a job calls for a jackhammer, ya know?

10. Discovering how very wonderful sex is, as an older woman.

I remember, when I was about 19, wondering what the allure could possibly be for old, dried up hags of 30+ years to still be having sex.  And then one day I reached that age.  And I wondered why teenagers even bothered, because sex was SO much better when I was older, than when I was younger.

Okay.  You may be reading this with the mixed fascination and repulsion I have when dealing with Bugs That Get Inside My Home.  But, if you're not totally squicked out and embarrassed at this time:

Any parts of the above you relate to, even a a little bit?
Questions, comments, laughter?
Anything you feel brave enough to share?

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