Fleshbot and Comfort Socks

This week’s Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot shakes a tail feather for ass, glorious ass.

Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find me rocking Wendy. Bridget finds that I’m ready for my close up and realizes that love can take many different directions.

Ass and love . . . now, that reminds me of the best deal I ever made. About twenty years ago, I made an offer to my girlfriend Pablo. I suggested that we swap socks. I would give her my favorite pair, and she would give me hers. She liked this idea, and we fucked on it.

I’m afraid I came out well ahead in the trade. Pablo got a nice pair of socks, and they were indeed my favorites. But the pair I got were like no socks I had ever seen. They were long and thick and had no heel. They were each much larger than any human foot. Anyone who wore these socks would vanish into them.

This week, I have the flu that’s going around. I’m with my kids, which you might think would be hard, but actually, it’s for the best, as I’m not very good at being sick and having them around keeps me from moping. Plus, my son Jason had the bright idea of borrowing season one of Heroes from a friend and we’re hooked. I keep a lid on the kinky applications of superpowers concocted by my fevered mind, though they are nothing special, really—I mean, I can’t be the only viewer who wants to drop the lash to the indestructible cheerleader, can I?

As we watch, I curl up in bed in my official sick clothes—pajama bottoms, an oversized t-shirt and Pablo’s old socks. Pablo and I lost touch years ago; she never forgave me for marrying Lucy. Still, I think she’d be amused that all these years later, her socks still have the power to heal.