the power of a smirk

There’s just something about a smirk.
It’s one of the most powerful sexual tools a man can possess. Used properly, it can cause arousal, anxiety, excitement, and more. No, really. It can make your heart race and feel like it’s going to explode of your chest. A good smirk can do this. It drives you crazy. It says:
I know how I affect you.
I know you’re attracted to me.
I know you want me.
In your mind so much more is going on.
But right now we’re a foot or two apart.
I know how to drive you crazy.
And that’s exactly why I’m doing it.

The important thing about the smirk is it must be backed up by reality. You really must hold that kind of sway over the other person. You must really have a good idea how to drive them crazy, and know already that the smirk is a part of it. If you have all that, the smirk becomes a tool of great power.
It’s powerful enough that even talking about such a smirk in conversation can cause the blush, the arousal, the anxiety. It’s powerful enough that I can become fully, achingly, throbbingly aroused with just a well-placed smirk; no touching neccessary.
An excellent smirk from the movies: In Chocolat, Roux (Johnny Depp) is watching Vianne (Juliette Binoche) walk away. He smirks, and then says “I’ll come round and get that squeak out of your door”. Killer smirk.
Brian Kinney and Spike are kings of the smirk.
A number of men from my past (Jeff, in particular) were also good at the smirk.
There are days when I greatly miss the presence of smirks in my life. Today is one of them.

singing the praises of womanhood

One of the best Mark Morford rants ever:

Please Accept This Diamond-Studded Dildo As Small Thank-You
Women are less likely than men to reach the highest salary brackets and are more likely to live in poverty, according to a government survey. Nearly 16 percent of men age 15 and older who worked full-time in 2001 earned at least $75,000 a year, compared with 6 percent of women, the Census Bureau reported. About 20 percent of men earned between $50,000 and $75,000, compared to 12 percent of women. By contrast, however, women remained the stunning and karmically breathtaking bearers of beauty and time and human evolution, potent luminous vessels of sex and dreams and bad parallel parking and love and that totally cute thing you do with your lips and oh my god hipbones that can make you weep, eyes that can melt gods, tongues of eternal divinity, which is why most all those selfsame whimpering hunks of maleness spend such huge desperate chunks of those very same inflated salaries on pleading and incessant gifts, dinners, and, if they were at all smart and thoughtful, nice new Hitachi Magic Wands for their women, because it’s all we can do to be eternally and undyingly grateful, of course, except for those times when you’re all bitchy and insanely emotional and melodramatic and annoying and whiny and when you get a haircut you don’t like and it actually makes you cry and we are absolutely stumped and baffled and can only sigh heavily and realize that some hot oral sex is probably not gonna happen within the next ten minutes. But, you know, small price.

How I love that man. Any time he wants to butter my thoughts with the skill of his tongue, he’s most welcome. Yum.

naughty digital bits and the tease

It’s sad, really. When I want to find interesting web sites about my other hobbies or my career, finding excellent web sites that are completely new to me is easy as pie. There is, as a matter of fact, far more excellent material out there than I will ever have time to find, link to, or read.

Not so much, really, in the sex world. This is particularly true if you’re looking for content rather than the largest quantities of nasty hardcore video. It’s a very incestuous world, really, with the same 100 or so sites all linking to one another and comprising likely a good 80% of all the good quality sex-related content online.

Or so it would seem. Okay, rant over.

The good news is that I have found a few new sites that look yummy to me:

Phone Slut Sex Diary
A really fascinating online journal kept by a worker in the phone sex industry. Of particular interest was her Johns list, where she lists all the different types of callers she gets. And okay, I have to confess I have always been fascinated by sex work. I’d love to be brave enough to give it a try, even just once to say I did it. Y’know?

Orgasm Denial
Okay, mainly focuses on denying men but still very interesting. And really, it’s still all about the tease and the power and the anticipation. Big site, too.

Rob and Jill
I almost never review pay sites, because they rarely ever show enough on the front end for me to decide if the site is actually worthwhile in behind the pay door. But this personal, amateur site has a lovely 1 minute video for free on its home page of the husband being teased mercilessly yet trying to hold back his orgasm until he’s given permission to do so. He sounds like he’s in utter torment, and every time his cock jerked I have to admit my clit contracted in sympathy. And arousal.


One of the best tease & denial books of all time

Even though I’ve never outright played the “dom” I have done my share of highly enjoyable teasing. My story the lovers: part two talks about this a little bit. I just never found a man, I suppose, who would put up with being teased for hours, kept at the edge of orgasm, without letting go and spoiling all the fun.

I’ve also carried around a fantasy for ages and ages about being teased and denied. Well, let’s face it—not outright denied for days on end. Just for an hour or two or three, maybe. Teased and denied like my favourite books of all time – the Lidir series by Aran Ashe (see book one of the series, right). Worked up with nowhere to go. At the edge for seemingly forever, though you know it’s only minutes or hours. Nothing to do but hope that the next slow wet working is the one that ends in orgasm.

Now that I’ve thoroughly aroused myself, it’s off to bed. Thank goodness I bought new batteries today!

on my tantric knees

I’ve noticed a rather disturbing development in my constant, vibrating tuning fork arousal over the last day or two. My legs ache. Especially my knees. A lot. It’s like a constant hum, a body awareness I can’t quite shake. Honestly, it’s never been this bad for me. It’s not painful, but unusual and maybe a little distressing (not to mention frustrating!).

So I decided to look it up. This is what digital grrls like myself do when faced with a problem. We Google it.

The keywords: extended arousal knees.

And this link was the very first result: What I learned at orgasm school.

I am nothing if not a curious little Vikki, so I decided to read further.

Now, I have of course heard about extended orgasms and tantric whatevaramas and all that stuff. Sure I have. But I sort of assumed it was either not for real or so difficult to achieve, like lowering your own metabolism so people think you’re in a coma, that it would be unrealistic for the average girl (like me) to actually accomplish.

Well, if what this girl says is true, ‘taint so. Apparently anyone can do this. Twenty minute orgasms. The mind reels.

Actually, the mind reels just at how it must feel:

And I manage it — my everyday climax turns into the orgasm that just keeps on coming. As I keep my breath and internal and external stimulation going, my PC muscle keeps contracting. Then the muscle starts spontaneously pushing out (that move it’s been trained for). I can feel my brain starting to melt in my skull, and things are going quiet inside. I’m now in a deep meditative state.

I so have to try this. Maybe it will quiet the whole tuning fork thing. And give me some peace, dammit.

x rated dream

I must confess that I haven’t been dating much recently. As in not for a year. Taking an emotional break, you could say. Yes, I still take care of the sensuality as much as I can – being aware of the senses, candlelit baths, listening to Morcheeba (I’m sorry, their music will always remind me of liquid aural sex). The requisite devices that take 9 volt batteries. You get the idea. Just no men.
All of which has combined to make me attuned to testosterone in a way I’ve never been before. Like a tuning fork. Vibrating. All the time. I walk by a man and get aroused. I walk into an elevator where a man has been—you can tell by the faint cologne left behind—and I get aroused. I watch television and get aroused. Movies, forget it (which reminds me, Chocolat is on tonight!). I’m done for. And putting me in a public place around men is almost debilitating.
Which is why I end up having nights like the one I had last night. It seemed every time I woke up (which was often) there were vague techicolor porn dreams fading away at the edge of my consciousness.
And then, there was the final dream. I don’t even remember that much of it.
I was in a room (bedroom? living room?) and he was there – you know, that faceless guy that loves to hang around dreams. He was in pants and a button-down shirt. And he was drenched. We’d been caught in a rain storm. I walked up to him and unbuttoned his shirt and slid it down his arms. Spending lots of time in between. You know. I unbuttoned his pants and slid them down his legs. Spending lots of time in between. You know.
Underneath, his skin was still damp, slight rivers of water running over his shoulders and chest from his wet hair.
Finally all that was left were briefs. They were soaked through, too. He was hard. So hard. The hardest cock I’d ever seen. It jerked a little as I caressed his stomach.
I knelt down in front of him. And slowly, carefully, licked him from base to tip. He groaned.
And that’s when I woke up.
At the absolute worst times you could imagine, this mental image—the soaked through, the long lick, the groan—came back to me all day long.
A tuning fork, I tell you. I’m simply vibrating.