Now Greg, I think it’s only fitting
that your final injection is
administered by that slut of a
girlfriend of yours. This is the first
time she’s seen you since I had you
both worked on. I hope she likes
the new you.
This injection contains the last of
your hormone shots. They’ve done
such a wonderful job to your body
haven’t they?
You’re now ready for the training
programme. I’m looking forward to
breaking you both in. I’ve always
wanted my own pair of rubber maids
around the house. It’s going to be
fantastic watching you both
humiliated like that. Now, here comes
that needle….
I was visiting FemmeFluff’s blog earlier this week, and she had a post about this documentary. I had never heard about it before, so I decided to click the Amazon link and the YouTube links to see what the documentary was about. While watching the clips that are on YouTube, I was totally drawn in. I absolutely love the intimacy between these two. They seem so comfortable, so connected to one another.
Part of the documentary deals with the sexual connection between the two. I haven’t seen the complete video, so I can’t talk on that aspect, but what I can say is that I want to see more of their kind of relationship. I hear a lot of lesbians talk about ‘the sex”! Sex is all good, but once you have that orgasm, you have to have a foundation to stand on. There has to be more to the relationship than the fact that she can make you scream!
I will come back and post my thoughts on the movie once I see it in its entirety. If you have seen it, or plan to see it, please let me know your thoughts.
“On October 23, 2002, a column about women’s hockey caught my eye. Hayley Wickenheiser, one of the stars in the Canadian women’s hockey firmament, is having difficulty finding a team to play on because of institutional rules about playing with men. One comment in particular was noteworthy:
“There is, and long has been, a simmering hostility against women in hockey. The more boorish attitude is… that they’re just a bunch of lesbians anyway — a sad prejudice only reinforced when former hockey Olympian Nancy Drolet married her partner, Nathalie, in a Quebec civil ceremony.”
Now, I appreciate (I think) the spirit in which that was written. The writer is commenting on the various types of official and unofficial discouragement women face when trying to play sports, especially sports which aren’t ladylike. However, there is a piece which is missing here, and it has to do with that L-word which everyone seemed to like to say a few years ago when Ellen was big news.
One of my previous workout partners, a former hockey and national-level softball player, told me that as she was growing up in rural Canada, the stigma of lesbianism in sports was one which all the athletes and coaches openly rejected. Which meant that the players and coaches who actually were lesbians (like my friend) had to stay in the closet and keep their dykey mouths shut. Rejecting the stereotype of athletic women as a bunch of lesbians is one thing, but often, doing so with such unequivocal enthusiasm merely serves to perpetuate the homophobia that constrains women’s activities. The righteously indignant battle cry of “We’re not lesbians!” contains the implicit message, “Cause lesbians are bad!”
Think about it a bit more. Why are lesbians seen as bad in this context? Because they are thought to transgress gender norms. They are supposedly masculine, butchy, unfeminine, aggressive, hairy, etc., basically everything good girls are not. So, the message is not only that women who play sports are lesbians, but since lesbians are masculine, then women who play sports are masculine. Good girls, then, do not play sports. QED. Homophobia does a nice little tango with sexist norms, and the end result is that the straight girls have to practically get married on the field to prove their heterosexuality, and the queer girls are made to feel ashamed for letting down the team. Who the hell cares if Nancy marries Nathalie? Why is it their responsibility not to “reinforce a sad prejudice”? The people reinforcing the sad prejudice are the ones who are discouraging girls from playing sports, not the dykes who are brave enough to be themselves.
It’s time to stop pushing sportdykes into the closet just to make everyone feel better about their femininity. It’s time to stop protesting too much, to stop worrying about “our image” and our connection to athletes who happen to be queer. Lesbian issues are women’s issues, and intolerance against some hurts all of us. It’s time to start saying, “Hell yes, some of us are lesbians, and that’s okay!””
My weekend was taken up by the Lesbian Lives Conference XVIII which ran from Friday 19th to Saturday 20th. People came from all over the world to speak and share their experiences.
Friday morning began with the writer being late and rushing into the nearest session facilitated by Malia (Mary) L McCarrick and happened to be a writing workshop (ah!) based on the topic of identity. The morning structured around the Cass Identity Model. From free-style writing, to brain storming to describing the events that made up the stages of identity reconciliation, this session brought with it transformative fun with the added delight of having something to work on later!
The lunch-time session attended consisted of three speakers:
(1) Kym Bird, York University,UK Thrills, Crises and Climaxes: Melodrama and Lesbianism in Early Canadian Women’s Drama
(2) Chris Roulston, University of Western Ontario, Canada Interpreting Lesbian Desire in the Codrington Divorce Trial of 1864
This was an interesting investigation into the world of the court systems where lesbian relationships have rarely been given the coverage:
(3) Temma Berg, Gettysburg College, USA
An Im/Modest Proposal: Anne Lister, Emily Brontë and the Writing of Shirley
A joyous traipse through the potential lesbian identities of women connected with the Brontë sisters. Just when one thought it was the end of a thought… the speaker went forward into another tract pulling from the text more codes, more information and more possibilities than imagined! This is another book for the ‘Will Read’ list.
The evening session was about Young Lesbian Lives:
(1) Petruta Tatulescu, Ruprecht-Karls-University, Germany Lesbian Lives at Boarding Schools
As a former inmate of a boarding school the writer was intrigued by this topic and what would come of this subject. The paper was a comparison of two films, Mädchen in Uniform und Loving Annabelle. Unfortunately time ran out and the speaker did not get to finish her paper.
(2) Leslie Sherlock, Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland To Inclusively and Beyond! : A Sweden/Ireland Dialogue on LGBT Inclusion in Sex/uality Education
This was a very important presentation for this writer given the nature of the topic, the scope of the work and the interesting process of comparisons of the two countries in terms of sexuality information and education.
(3) Anne Rudolph, Linkoping University, Sweden ‘Can Lesbians Get Sexually Transmitted Infections’?; Unpacking the Question
Sex! Finally there was something ’sticky’ said on this topic. Anne’s presentation was brilliant: informative and inspiring covering a topic which is not talked about enough.
Evening: Keynote Special Emma Donoghue
The room was packed, there to listen to Emma speak about her news book: Inseparable: Desire between Women in Literature. The journey was hhilarious, a tour through the dodgy lesbian literature of the centuries. She is a fantastic speaker: entertaining, funny and eloquent as she brought us through the ideas of the book. Another one for the list!
If you have any opinions or information or simply want to comment, please do.
The Exam is a project being co-ordinating by the Ultimate Holding Company as part of this year’s Queer Up North festival, and they are looking for volunteers to join their examination board.
If you are interested in art and performance this is the perfect opportunity to participate in a unique interactive art project and piece of social research – focused on queer history and culture. The main event premiering to the public on the 23rd of May 2010.
The board meets weekly on Wednesdays at a city centre art studio. For further information contact:
I’m tired of swimming in love
& drowning in her.
She’s looking for him
& I can’t find a replacement
or even a look-a-like
to fill the space she refuses to fit.
It’s in her eyes
but she has it avoid her lips,
so how can mine even travel there?
Not that there’s a need,
I know she hears it in half my words
feels it in my every touch,
why else venture to daydream,
“naked you’re still a girl.”
It’s the sex that scares her
a fear I can’t quiet
a desire I can’t embrace.
So a could be lover is trapped
in the shell of best friend;
in love with the impossible
and still seeking that replacement
or just a look-a-like,
someone else to place
the burden of my love on
and around.
From Tulare County PFLAG comes a chance to show your creative side and have some fun:
Hi friends -
Many of you know me as a straight ally for SSM rights. Now I have something fun to share, and I hope you can help me if these activities look fun to you, or to help me get them to someone who might be who I am looking for.
I am working as a producer for a short film being made in the Porterville area in late March.
I need extras and crew helpers (aka “PAs – Production Assistants”) to help.
The casting notice is online at http://visalia.craigslist.org/tlg/1584259673.html and is copied in this email below.
As many as 15-20 extras are need, ages 15 and up.
There is information about the PA positions online at http://visalia.craigslist.org/cwg/1584610422.html
I can probably use at least 5 PAs per day during the entire period, and you need not be available every day, so don’t be shy.
You can read about the film and director at http://mikethefilmmaker.com/garden/
Please pass this all along to other lists that might be helpful. I have been told that there is a Tulare LGBTQ list (which I am not on) that might be especially helpful.
i admit it: i like a good snow storm. i’m a homebody. i love an excuse to stay at home w/holly, esp. when there’s pretty snowflakes to watch falling outside. but this has gotten ridiculous.
baltimore is immobilized. our street has not been plowed yet. (i know we’re not alone w/that one.) i don’t know if i can adequately put into words just how much snow there is for you out of towners. cars cannot move out of their parking spots. people can barely walk on the street. nobody’s going anywhere. we saw an EMT get out of his vehicle and run down the street to help someone b/c he couldn’t drive down it. (ok, wait. there is a BOBCAT digging out street out now. a BOBCAT. that’s how much snow there is!!! of course it’s covering our cars. see, there’s just no way out of this.)
holly has been cooking up a storm. i’m telling you, we’re going to be morbidly obese by the time the snow stops and we can dig ourselves out of this. fresh crepes w/wild blueberry sauce. stew. tacos. casseroles. and soon, i cannot wait for this one, her first shot at making homemade pasta.
people have been getting their cars stuck all over place here. in fact, just last night, holly went out of the house to help these girls get their little VW out of a parking spot. if it wasn’t for this random van showing up, that had, like, 10 guys come of it, all of whom pushed her car out of the spot, this girl would have been stuck all day. i was watching the whole thing from our front window, thinking how decent holly is, the way she’s always going out of her way to help ppl. she was making her way back to our house and then she disappeared for a moment. she reappeared helping janet, one of the friendly neighbor drunks, walk across the street back to her house. janet had her hand in the crook of holly’s arm. i shook my head. janet makes me so sad. i know it’s not the most PC thing to say, but i usually don’t have too much sympathy for addicts, not since i moved here, anyway, since they create such havoc and crime in our neighborhood. but janet, there’s just something so doggone sad about her. she’s so skinny and shaky and you can tell she’s smart underneath it all. she’s just so frail and weeble-wobbly i’m scared when she crosses the street on a sunny day. everytime i see her, i think about pretty much the best addiction memoir i’ve ever read, dry by augusten burroughs. i think about what her day-to-day must be like and usually sigh and make myself think about something else.
we actually were woken up at around 3am by the same girl trying to get her little car out of the spot the guys had pushed her into. it sounded like she was gonna blow her motor up. holly opened the window and shouted down to ask where she needed to go. not to be rude, just b/c we felt concerned there might be an emergency. why else would someone wake the entire neighborhood, risk blowing up their car and then put their life in danger by actually driving (in a little car w/out four-wheel drive) in this type of weather? she said she needed to go to the hospital b/c her grandmother had died. i know. so sad. the hospital turned out to be pretty far away. holly suggested that she call a taxi service with four-wheel drive. she said she tried but couldn’t get one and even if she could it was really expensive. “your grandmother probably wouldn’t want you driving in this type of weather,” holly shouted down. “it’s really dangerous.” the girl agreed and went back inside.
anyway, i guess what i’m getting at with these random stories is that it’s nice to see the community coming together a little. i’ll tell you the truth, i don’t know who even lives in most of the houses on our block. all the sudden we’re talking to them and helping them and watching them help each other. i could have skipped the random drunk neighbor that stumbled out of his house the other day, looked at holly and i (trying to make our way across our bulky street) with pervy eyes, and yelled that “y’all look real cute walkin together like that! reeeeal cute. i’ma come back and talk to you. stay there.” yeah, we totally hid behind some boulders and talked to our neighbor lori the teacher (hi lori!) until he went away.
as for our late neighbor’s house, we’re worried his roof’s going to cave in from all the snow. the cops told us he had safety citations on it. hell, we’re worried our own roof, too, and we gave that a good overhaul before we even moved in. we’re more worried about our our decks, one of which is on our roof (tho the weight of it rests on party walls). holly’s been shoveling the snow off of the one connected to our house, off the guest bedroom. i stay inside and wave at her and take photos.
speaking of photos, i’m including some. i don’t normally post a whole lot of personal photos but the past few days have just been so unbelievable that i feel i need to. i’ll try to post them in chronological order. (apologies to my facebook buddies for some repeats. stay with me, there’s some new ones towards the end.)
from our roofdeck. back when things felt prettier. so quiet in this town. for once!
chimneys peeking out from the snow.
this looks very south pole-like, but it's actually our late neighbor's roof over his vacant house.
gorgeous! you wanna move here now, right? hah. yeah, after my stories i'm betting a big fat no.
our unplowed street.
is that a tunnel or a sidewalk? srsly. crazy.
holly's very first try making crepes. that's wild blueberry sauce she made, too, with ricotta from a local italian place. omg yum.
holly resting after shoveling our second-floor deck. this is before storm #2.
holly helping janet across the street just as the second storm was starting. that's janet on the left.
holly shoveling the deck today.
hi, honey! how's the weather out there? no i think i'll just stay inside and take pictures of you. thanks for shoveling, babe! love you!
a bobcat finally arrives to start shoveling out our street! oh but wait! mister, you're...you're trapping our cars.
have i told you before about the peeping tom freakazoid across the street? i probably have. sometimes we just see his nose sticking out of his freakazoid curtained second-floor window looking into our house. sometimes he pops out his entire head. well he’s a hermit or something. we have rarely seen him out. he’s just…a balding freakazoid head/face. but b/c of the weather we’ve actually seen him come out twice in the same week. i kind of want to stare at him while he’s out there to make him uncomfortable but i’m too scared that he’s a sharp shooting gun collector psychopath. so instead i took a picture of his window as we see it above our door.
he usually sticks his head out of the window on the left. and yes, those are hearts. we decorated for valentine's day this year. it's a baltimore thing. don't be a hater. (plus you know you love it.)
well, folks, i think i’ve posted enough photos for a blogging lifetime. i need to get back to this book proposal. nothing like being snowed in to light a fire under your ass. i began work on this proposal almost a year ago to the day and i think i’ve finally got it. mapping out your life’s story is quite an endeavor. but i’m almost there. if you live around here, tell me how you’re doing in all this snow! stay warm! xo!
“If I could change the world; mould it to my own design, then I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be the world anymore. What it is and what I want it to be are two very separate ideas and they can never be truly one.”
I feel like a liar.
Not to say that I’ve been lieing, but I have been compromising who I am.
I spent majority of the past two years alone and I never realised the affect that it had on me. I never saw myself through everyone else’s eyes.
I’m narcissistic and self-righteous, I want what I want when I want it and I’m boisterous enough to tell people that. I’m cold-hearted, I lack empathy or sympathy and I’m pretty sure my own mind works against me when I feel sad. I have little or no belief in anything or anyone. I’m paranoid and I believe it’s survival of the fittest by any means necessary.
I’m not sure if these are natural attributes that have just become recognisable over time but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t this blinded before my isolation.
In my time alone, when I worked and I studied and I did anything I could to get ahead and prove everybody wrong, I forgot what it was that I really wanted to do it. I’d forgotten what I had spent my whole life doing, and that was telling stories.
Take it from me, someone who can blatantly with a smile on their face, stories are my forte. They twist and wind around my mind with barely decipherable plots that boggle even myself sometimes, but those are the stories that have grown over years of observation.
I’d forgotten in my haste to prove myself to others that I am just one person and that others will not always bend to my will. I can ask them, persuade them or even try to blackmail them, but whatever it comes down to I know that this, in itself, was my world that I was trying to pull others into.
Strong-willed and emotionally decrepit is who I am now, and I’m not so sure that I can find my way back to who I used to be.
I want to be the brave person I always thought I was. I want to fight the battles of the world the way I always have: with words and pictures and sound.
I want to prove to myself that I still know who I am, that the things that used to always matter to me, still do. I want to prove that my heart isn’t as cold as it’s sometimes percieved to be. I want to prove that I’m human, and that I feel that way too.
I’m confused and wondering how on earth I got here.
I love who I love.
I write what I write.
I am who I am.
I can’t change this but I can change my perception of the world I live in. I can fight oppression and I can bring people to their knees in a way that doesn’t leave my morals to suffer.
I am strong and I am brave.
I am an 18-year-old Media Arts student from the University of Canberra. I sometimes lock myself out of my room and I always find myself flustered in attractive company. I like women but have a certain soft spot for attractive, polite men. I am feminine and I can still appear that way even when sweaty and bruised from learning MMA. I am genderqueer and I’m learning to accept it, no matter what it takes.
I am who I am, and just to be sure, I’m going to check myself in the mirror.
This blog doesn’t say much to you, probably, but it says a lot to me. My own personal review of the way my life twists and turns without my direction from myself. I hope I don’t bore people because I know that sometimes, I even bore myself.
Confused and cornered but a little bit more graceful in defeat…
that makes people want it so badly?? so much that they will settle for something less than what they deserve to have it (or so they want to believe)… don’t know what word it is yet??… well for those who haven’t guessed it… L.O.V.E. That one little word can change EVERYTHING!! And what made women start believing they can’t live without being in love? maybe all those damn commercials have something to do with it. The ones that make women want to get married and have a family.. well people it kind of backfired.. there are more girls getting pregnant and married before they even have a chance to figure themselves and what they want and that results in unhappy marriages which usually leads to divorce… SO why rush it?? or maybe it’s the fact that some of us have parents(mothers in particular) that plan out our weddings in their head and that’s what they look forward to is seeing their ”little girl” walk down the aisle one day.. the sad thing is… I was one of those people who thought I just had to be in love and in a relationship.. until recently.. now I have realized that I like being me.. JUST ME.. I have had time to really figure out who I am and what I want.. and that leaves me with a tough situation in about a month…my girlfriend comes home.. and I have realized that I don’t want to get married and settle down ANY TIME SOON… I want time to live my life and do things that I’ve wanted to do after college.. and as far as she is concerned everything is the same as when she left.. ha that will be a big surprise…any way my point is women.. you don’t absolutely have to be in a relationship to find happiness.. you can be independent and find your own joy and love.. you don’t need someone to make you feel “complete”.. you should be able to do that yourself. After all you know yourself better than anyone else does!
I am the quintessential overthinker, and work, work, work to detach, but it comes easier for me only at times. I went out on Friday, and had talked with her via text the day before, but now haven’t heard from her at all. I don’t like that I saw her closest friend out here at the club and she was snotty to me. I know that she has been having trouble connecting with her, because some the texts that she has sent in the last couple of weeks have said so. I also know that when we were together last weekend, she had an invitation to spend time with her. Her nastiness could have been just jealousy that I have had some of her final moments here in this state. This woman has never liked me, and while I don’t desire to be liked, it is awkward because I’m sleeping with one of her best friends. DD. Glad that I didn’t drink at the club, so that cannot be blamed for any DDD.
So, because I had not heard a thing, I texted her before I went to bed. Pretty innocuous statements in my Sent this box this am, but my Inbox is empty. I just told her that I hoped that she had a good weekend and that she was able to keep warm. The snowfall woke me up forty-minutes before the alarm went off with a start because it gave the impression of daylight. Worried that I overslept, and rolled quickly to my alarm stand. I also told her that I hoped that her week is as normal as it could be. Her job is so difficult here… I actually want her to be able to move and hope that another state will offer good employment because working here can bring her to tears. No one wants to feel that way about work. I’ll admit that I care an awful lot about her, and want her to have happiness. I don’t want her to be miserable because of what she does a minimum of 50-hours per week.
The third issue is that now we have concrete away-weekend plans. I want them to come to fruition. I don’t want her to cancel this time. I don’t want a reschedule either. I didn’t initiate these plans. In fact, it is rare for me to initiate anything with her, because it doesn’t make me feel comfortable to do so. She was texting me last Wed, and asking about our dinner plans. She then changed the restaurant to one out of town. That’s cool. We’ve never driven very far together and talk so easily that it will be fun. Then when we firmed up plans she said that we would stay away overnight and listen to music the next day. That sounds wonderful.
She and are are mutable signs. Does that mean that “any wind can blow us?” Maybe, but it also means that we both adapt. I’ll deal if she cancels and if I never hear from her again, but am tiring of those lines that I believe were written by Amy Ray, “just because it came and went, doesn’t mean it was never true.” I want to stay connected to someone in some respect, and can adapt to change, because, “If I remain the same, am I denying what was said,” and in this case, I’m afraid it is because I have left many things unsaid. If we do go away this weekend, I am unlikely to say them aloud to her.
The past 2 weeks have been very hectic and with Cut and Paste Rock and Roll just 2 days away its been a bit of a challenge to keep up with a social life let alone making time to paint.
Ive been trying new things as far as mixed media, photoshop and stepping out of my comfort zone. Its actually been a great learning process, which has contributed to some new art work that I really love.
The piece below is titled ‘Queer In The City’. Its a mixed media piece on watercolor paper, done with acrylic paint, paint markers and markers.
The piece pictured below is Untitled. It is a portrait of Eugene and I. Made in Photoshop.
We will be displaying new art along with ‘Queer In the City’ and a different version of our portrait at Cut and Past Rock and Roll this Friday Feb 5, 2010 at DiPiazza’s in Long Beach. For more info on this event go to www.cutandpasterockandroll.com
I couldn’t wait to finish these lawns. The retired people typically want to talk after I finish their lawns, despite the heat and humidity. They are lonely and I understand that; it’s why I take the time to talk to them, but I had plans for later. I tried to convey my urgency without being rude. My six lawns were done in three hours and I was on my way!
I called my wife to check in and see how things were. All was fine and how was my day. I lied and said long and grueling. I told her I was going to spend the night at my parents since I had some bed work to do in their local area tomorrow. Hah! Bed work! I told her I’d call her sometime tomorrow and we hung up.
Upon my arrival at Becky’s, I saw the garage door opened and she was standing out front. I pulled into the driveway and she told me that when I finished, I should pull my vehicle and trailer into the garage for safe keeping. I did the lawn, picked over the shrubs and beds and then put my vehicle in the garage. She met inside the garage and told me that this weekend had a few rules.
“First, I am initiating what I call the 3 foot rule. What this is is when you enter my house, once you are within an imaginary border of 3 feet from any exit, all your clothing must be removed to proceed any farther. This applies to any and all that are in the house. Second, you will do as I ask you this weekend, no matter what it is. You will be compensated for last night’s animal control and for this weekend’s festivities.”
“Festivities??”
“Yes, I have a pool party tonight and it is a nude affair. It is a small group of friends and they are being assembled so that they may meet you. They all have their own individual needs in a “handyman”. I know that we have been exclusive thus far, but after tonight, your new business venture is going to get off the ground. These women are all women of some means. There is one in my situation: a well off, uninterested husband (both with 2 mistresses on the side), a divorcee who caught her philandering husband diddling the maid. Since the money was hers to begin with, he’s out with nothing. Last but not least, are the two “grieving” widows. I am the oldest of the bunch, and they go as young as 38. All transactions are on a cash only basis. You will report half of it for taxes and the other half is yours to spend as you please. One of the widows is a tax accountant and she will take care of your books for you.”
“The party will commence in one hour and last until tomorrow at nine pm. I hope you are ready for this, because they sure are! Now, the only other rule will be that you and I will only cavort in private. I do not want these women to know just how much I care about you.”
That last revelation was unexpected. I hope it doesn’t cause any problems between us as my business grows. As I step from the garage into the house and head for the back door, she stops me.
“3 foot rule! Strip!”
I readily comply and then head for the french doors. We emerge into the sun and she embraces me. We kiss passionately and lie down in the grass and write around. I enter her quickly and we make love before the guests arrive. She whispers in my ear, “I’m falling in love with you.”
We consummate our relationship and I ask her, “What about your husband?” She says she has already discussed it with him. Without getting too technical, she says, “He has 2 mistresses and one is a seven year relationship. I am just a figurehead, eye candy for the parties and his bosses and clients. He keeps me because I am too costly to get rid of right now. I maintain his lifestyle and I have my own. He will allow me to spend his money however I see fit as long as I don’t bankrupt him or sully his financial future. I am not to embarrass him in any way. I told him about the police visit and he already knew. The officer that responded is a good friend of ours and would never divulge any compromising situations.”
I understand and tell her that I have feelings for her, but that I may need help with a divorce from my current wife. I tell her that I don’t want to create a scene, but would like for her to “just go away somewhere”. “The divorcee is a lawyer and will take care of those matters for you. In fact, I believe we all might be able to take up a collection to give to her as a settlement offer, and buy her silence with it.”
I am so looking forward to this now. Debauchery and lasciviousness will undoubtedly rule the evening, but I imagine that a cool business head will prevail above the salacious behavior. I begin to plot my future with these women.
The divorcee (Dana) arrives first. As she enters the front door, she sees the 3 foot rule sign. “Dammit Becky! 3 foot again? If I must, I hope you have someone that can escort me to the pool area.”
Becky instructs me to escort Dana to a lounge chair and to do as she asks. I enter the house and Dana extends an elbow. I take her by the arm and slowly walk her outside, introducing myself along the way. As she sits down in the sun, she asks me if I would be a dear and spread some oil on her. Becky hands me the tanning oil bottle and I squirt some on my hand. I rub them together and begin to apply the oil to her skin. Dana appears to have had the same plastic surgeon as Becky. Her age, as I find out, is the same as mine, 47. I unashamedly apply the oil to her entire body, paying particular attention to her breasts and crotch. She smiles at me and says to Becky, “Frisky one, eh.”
Dana turns over and I apply more oil to her back. As I near her behind, I manage to slip a finger inside her ass briefly just to gauge her reaction. At first she is startled and then she relaxes and allows me to stroke it a few times, before returning to the oiling. She turns back over and asks me to lean down. When I near her face she reaches out and pulls my head to her face and kisses me lustily.
I hear commotion at the front door and the other three women have arrived at the same time. They are al undressed and clamoring over each other. I go inside to see what the hell is going on and the commotion stops. In turn, they introduce themselves: I’m Millie, I’m married and my husband is a cheat! He can’t get rid of me because I would be too expense. I’m 38 and horny as hell! Her body is svelte and fit. In fact they are all well toned hard bodies. They must put a lot to effort into maintaining their fitness.
“Hello, I’m Abigail, Abby for short. I’m recently a widow, about 8 months now and Becky has been an inspiration for me. I’m a tax accountant and I hear you will soon be a client of mine. I just turned 40 last week and I still have lots of energy. I have a lot of projects to do around the house and am looking forward to getting them accomplished. “
“Hey there, I’m Roxy. My man died two years ago and I have a lot of projects that need doing, including me! I’m going to be honest with you, I need to be serviced. I’m 5’3”, 102 pounds soaking wet and I can’t be satisfied. You can try, but well, we’ll have to see.”
“Ladies, I only have two arms, but if Roxy doesn’t mind riding on my shoulders, I’m sure I’ll be able to escort you all at once to poolside. Roxy agrees readily and they help her up. I tell them, wait. Turn her around so she is in front of me. They giggle and do so. I wiggle my tongue around on her belly as I walk out with them. Roxy is going to be trouble.
The party gets under way with each one wanting to be oiled and I take my time with each. I saved Roxy for last. She says, “By the way, I’m only 43.” I ask her to roll over and I oil her back first. When she rolls over, I oil her chest first. She appears to be a B cup and as if she can read my mind. “I’m 33B, 22, 34.” I comment how she is perfect, and continue to apply the oil. As my hands caress her breasts, I see her arousal. I allow my hands to slowly advance to her crotch and then one by one, allow fingers to slip inside her pussy. I start to push 2 and 3 inside her and she starts to get a little loud. Becky grins at us and I continue get Roxy off with my hand. She cums, hollering the whole time and then sinks back to bask in the aftermath of her orgasm. “I can’t wait to fuck you!” She says.
Becky stands in our midst and says that other than the 3 foot rule, the only other rule is that I am free for the taking. “He will do anything you ask, and his tongue is quite talented. Beyond that, I want you to examine him and see if you would be able to use his talents around your house as your on-call handyman.”
Roxy is by my side in a flash, “Come with me right now, before anyone else exhausts you. Your tongue, huh? I want that between my legs right now and I’ll tell you when I want you to fuck me.”
Our trip to the bedroom is wild. Her tiny body is perfect in every way. I feast on her pussy for two hours bringing her to one orgasm after the other. I’m beginning to notice that my tongue is getting tired from the action and I have never gone this long before getting called up to the majors. Just as I’m about to quit on her, I feel her hands pulling my head up. She is flushed and sweaty, and her tongue finds my mouth and she explores its depth. Her lips hungrily devour whatever juices she has deposited on my face. Whilst doing this, she finds my rock hard cock and impales herself on it. Her pussy is so tight and wet. I slip in until I bottom out. I still have almost an inch to go. She isn’t very deep, but I’ll stretch that out a bit for her.
I begin to pound against her cervix, stroke-by-stroke, I go deeper until my balls touch her ass. I’m pounding her deep and hard with every stroke. I know it must hurt and I have to be bruising her inside, but she keeps meeting my stroke and grinding into me. Her mouth covers mine as we moan into each other. I feel my cum boiling and it explodes deep in her belly. Her arms and legs wrap around me, desperately trying to keep my seed deep inside her. As I begin to soften, she looks in my eyes and tells me she feels satisfied for once. I assure her that should she ever need satisfaction again, that I would be available, for a fee, for her satisfaction. Becky and Abby would be overseeing my business and they will tell you how to write off the expenses.
Roxy kisses me and tells me to have fun with the rest. She’ll find me again later, when she’s ready for more. She also says she will have to make sure she books me well in advance.
We emerge from the house and Becky pulls me aside. “So, what do you think?”
“I think if I hadn’t met you first, I’d probably find myself in her arms every night. She’s a wildcat. I think if given enough time, I could break and tame that cat though. She just needs the right tongue in her snatch to satisfy her.”
“Well, you just remember who loves you.”
“Becky, I know you do. Besides, Roxy isn’t the marrying type. I think any man would think she was playing around on him. She seems the nymphomaniac type.”
“Aye, she is. Although, it has been since her husband died since she last had sex. You were her first since him. The fact that she came out satisfied must mean you fit the bill.”
The remainder of the evening was spent “servicing” Dana, Millie, and Abby. They weren’t spectacular, but their bodies were amazingly flexible and energetic. By the time one am rolled around, I was spent. I went to bed with Becky, where she loving sucked me to sleep. I awoke at sunrise and promptly paid her back by feasting on her until she awoke and then she rolled me over to give me the first ride of the day.
After breakfast, we all discussed terms of my employment contract and how payment was expected. It was all very droll but necessary. We played Marco-Polo for an hour and then had lunch. Around 3 pm, everyone but Roxy left. Becky and Roxy approached me and offered me an alluring deal, “Take us both, together, and we’ll see to it that you become a rich man, able to retire by the time you’re 50, if you so choose.”
Before the ménage-a-trois, I ask for details on their plan. They lay out a well thought out plan that includes all the “work” to be done and how to invest it. Knowing some of what needed to be done, I agreed to the plan, and we retired to the bedroom. This was the first time, of many to come, where I witnessed Becky and Roxy feasting on each other’s pussy, and me finding myself in the middle of it all. After the first year, I was recently divorced, my ex had moved to St. Louis with family, and soon was able to purchase her own place with the settlement money, and I was earning 6 figures, legitimately, and another almost 6 figures in cash. Our plan was coming to fruition, and I was doing my best to satisfy these two sex starved women.
I was visiting FemmeFluff’s blog earlier this week, and she had a post about this documentary. I had never heard about it before, so I decided to click the Amazon link and the YouTube links to see what the documentary was about. While watching the clips that are on YouTube, I was totally drawn in. I absolutely love the intimacy between these two. They seem so comfortable, so connected to one another.
