This week’s Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot takes a little extra sum’n sum’n for added spice. Too much, these bloggers tell us, ain’t never enough.
Speaking of too much, those of you who enjoy stalking me may have to make do with too little. Unless I’m missing something, I didn’t get laid in anyone else’s sex blogs this week.
This astonishing turn of events may be attributed to two factors. First, I was on vacation for the early part of this month, and so I was beyond the reach of most who blog the nasty. Second, upon my return, I found that many of my friends were holed up for all-nighters with another fellow—a certain bespectacled Brit with a wicked dueling scar. He’s very engaging, I am told, and so I might worry that I would never see my friends again were I not reassured that he’s good for a solid twelve-hour marathon but then, well, its over.
I took heart to find I was not altogether shunted aside, for Maymay offered thoughts on my request for reader responses in advance of my upcoming sessions at Floating World. (Those interested in attending should note that a schedule of sessions has now been posted on the event website.)
I thanked Maymay for his thoughts. A few days later, I met him in person. He was naked. In fact, so was I, for we met on a nude beach—a first foray for your pale interlocuter.
I bussed his cheek and enjoyed the cool wetness of his skin as we touched. It was a warm summer afternoon, and he was fresh from the heavy surf—“bottoming to nature,” as he put it.
I set up my blankets with Maymay and friends. I had already about been naked with about half the people in this group of ten—naked, you know, when we had sex. The folks who were new to me were certainly easy on the eyes, and were gladly added to the roster of “naked people with whom I have yet to have sex.”
(No special emphasis on the “yet.”)
With my first experience with a nude beach, I resolved one anxiety from my youth. “What happens if you get hard?”
Here’s what happens: you get hard. No big deal.
I had a find time sunning with friends, new and old, in some measure thanks to the blessings of sunscreen . . . and a surreptitious handjob from a well-tanned mama.
That was too much.
Program note: Viviane’s Sex Carnival has moved. Update your links!
The life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
When told by my wife that our fifteen-year relationship was over, I found that everything in my life was upended. I took solace when friends and family pointed out I was no longer responsible for her personal happiness, just my own—and that of my four children.
I went into marriage as a bisexual kid, suspicious of monogamy. I was a good husband, and played by the rules. Now I'm single again, and wondering if I didn't have it right back then.
This blog picks up my new life in progress—the life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
Photograph by Adrian Buckmaster Photography. New York, NY. July 5, 2015.
(c) 2004-2019. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Jefferson
View My Complete Profile
I went into marriage as a bisexual kid, suspicious of monogamy. I was a good husband, and played by the rules. Now I'm single again, and wondering if I didn't have it right back then.
This blog picks up my new life in progress—the life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
Photograph by Adrian Buckmaster Photography. New York, NY. July 5, 2015.
(c) 2004-2019. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Jefferson
View My Complete Profile
1 comment:
Thanks for the Fleshbot-ting. I'm having my best day ever for hits.
xo GS
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