To have wings is to be able to lift oneself above the fray of day to day life. To trust that even when you step over the edge and start to fall that you will be able to recover. To lift yourself up and climb to new heights. To fly!

A friend and I have discussed over and over the process of being a butterfly. To achieve the ultimate metamorphoses; to become a beautiful human being inside and out. To me a butterfly is beautiful and strong. She makes it through the storm.

Shortly after I was married I got a tattoo of a butterfly on my right shoulder. It is small and feminine. I went to the tattoo parlor with a clear picture of what I wanted and the reasons behind it. In part it was because like Carolee said I wanted to morph into that beautiful person but for me it was even more personal then that.

A butterfly is also delicate and can be crushed easily. It is a daily reminder to balance strength with love and kindness. Right now I am feeling delicate and exposed to a ferocious storm.

I WILL rise above the day to day fray
There will no longer be gray
For this is what I pray
No more fears & no more tears
From my lips to God's ears

Libido In Over Drive

I was reading a friends blog about man cycles. He was describing where his libido would suddenly peak for no apparent reason but his need for sex was over whelming.

This caused me to reflect on two separate thoughts; one that I too have pinnacle moments of intense desire and lust that sweep through my body with voracity, and secondly (a thought that I don't plan to discuss in this thread but an interesting observation) if people, both sexes have peaks of intense sexual desire, a release of hormones that create a desire, a carnal need for sex, a longing so poignant, so intense that it must be answered, could it be why we are seeing a rise in sexual related crimes?

Back to my real thought process.......

When I have these over whelming peaks I self pleasure 2-3 times a day. sometimes I bring myself to orgasm two or three times in each session. This is not nearly as common for woman as it is for men. My ex never understood why my sex drive was so much higher then his or how I let lust and thoughts of sex consume my thoughts, but they do.

When I am in one of these intense peaks of desire I self pleasure before going to work. I lay out all of my dress cloths; stockings, my bra, matching lace panties, my skirt, silk shirt and heels. I then unwrap the towel from around me and climb back under the sheets. A smile dawns my face as I reach for the toy drawer because I know bliss is about to find me.

I do not have time for slow and sensual, I need instant gratification. I pull out B.O.B. He is reliable and has never failed me. His humming is familiar and the white noise from the vibrator is enough to relax me. Thoughts of Parker, my ex and the two woman I have had, flood my mind.

Moments relived in quick flashes and images. Pink parts, passionate kisses, Parker pushing me up against the wall. I feel the intensity building then the liquid heat radiating out to my limbs. I slip a finger over the off button and release the breath I am holding. Getting up I put on my clothes. While I am flying high from the satisfaction I am sadden it is over so quickly. Thoughts of more fulfilling sex plague me on the drive to work.

Sometimes in these peaks I find myself horny even at work. Thoughts of sex consume my mind and distract me from work. I am a pretty open person about sex and my sex life so I find myself discussing sex in one form or another with the people I work with. (They think I am horny all the time.) Lunch comes and I am thankful I live close to my work. During these intense peaks of desire, I go home on my lunch break and again slip between my sheets and find that blissful moment.

At the end of the day and bed time finally comes I slow down to really enjoy the orgasm(s) this time. I allow it to build almost to the jumping off point and then back off and build it again. I let it build and back off, build and back off and then when I allow myself to finally jump off the edge of the cliff I think who cares about a parachute?

I sometimes will do three sessions in one. The first is super fast to get me over the hump and it is intense. The second one takes a while to have and often is less satisfying but still makes my toes curl and then the third is so intense it takes all I have to not scream and wake the kids.

I bite my pillow as the beads of perspiration bead across my skin. Flashes of body parts intertwined together in love is the most satisfying images but also ones where there is nothing but pleasure and no strings can be quite nice too.


This week Fruit Taster, myself and others have talked about those first tantalizing experiences of discovering stepping into the adult world of pleasure and heart break.

In our youth while first discovering our sexuality we are often confused and don't have a lot of information available in aiding us in the discovery. Sure there is the standard Sex Ed class, late night Cinamax soft core porn, HBO's Real Sex, and even Showtimes The L Word and Queer As Folk, (all the things I watched trying to figure things out)but none of these give real life examples of what to do, how to be cautious, or real non-bias views on the various sexual relationships that can exist.

Several months ago I stumbled across Babeland's Moregasm and I wanted to do a book review on it. Every sex guide sets out to make readers feel comfortable with their sexuality and infuse them with the belief that sex should be fun; Moregasm feels innovative because it leads by example.

It seems to have everything an adult or even a teenager coming into sexuality may need, to aid them in discovering who they are sexually. This book covers; body part, how they work, self pleasure, G-Spot, obtaining that Big -O-, gratifying and satisfying a partner, cunnilingus, BDSM, Transgender identities, anal sex, safe sex, pregnancy prevention, STD awareness, not to mention commonly asked questions to all of these things.

I was truly impressed with this book. The pictures and descriptions were of real people and not the stereotypical stick figures or model type. The pictures depicted people from heavy to thin, to male and female same sex, as well as mixed raced. I feel as though this book tried to truly capture the various relationships that exist in a very fun and informative way. There were descriptions of sex toys, how to use them, where to find them, and how to find what might work best for you.

I strongly encourage this book to everyone! If you want to brush up on your own knowledge or have a son, daughter, niece, nephew or even a dim witted friend that needs help discovering their sexuality this is the book they should read!

The book can be found at Barns & Noble or Amazon as well as many other places.

Title and Authors: Moregasm: Babeland's Guide to Mind-Blowing Sex (Avery) (Paperback)
~ Rachel Venning (Author), Claire Cavanah (Author), Jessica Vitkus (Author)

Their website for toys: http://www.babeland.com/

Their Blog: http://blog.babeland.com/

Date Night

Tonight all across the world it is considered "Date Night" Tonight I took my self out on a date. I got a Starbucks and went to Panera and listen to live music while I was reading my Moregasm book to write my review.

I enjoyed my quiet time on the bench as I became engrossed in the pictures and words. Soaking up the knowledge eager to put it to practice. Dating myself and learning how to increase my own self pleasure not a bad way to spend a Friday night.

To be continued as my May NST story..............

April's NST

I wrote this years ago. It very well maybe one of my first reflection pieces I ever wrote. This is a story of coming into my sexuality even though I would not have sex for several years after this took place. I hope it is a good read, my next NST will be about GI-Joe. (Those who know me already know about him and he is delicious:)

These are the kinds of moments that are forever seared in your mind. Mine took place on a school bus oddly enough. I was fifteen and a bunch of us were coming back from the district basketball game. It was the first time I become conscious, I mean truly understood desire or that I was becoming a woman. It awoke feelings in me that had been dormant my whole life. They had always been there, just waiting to rise to the surface and explode throughout my body.

It was December and cold out. We all stood on the sidewalk waiting for the bus to come around and pick us up. I forged cold and he came over and draped his arm around me. We finally got on the bus and he sat next to me. The seats were cold and ugly green. I draped my feather down coat around my front, pressing my back into the seat with such force I thought I might crash right through the back.

My mind was reeling, and he sat next to me smelling so good. All I could think of was, “Please touch me.” I thought the screams in my head, the pleas that I wanted to yell out had actually escaped my lips, and had been heard by him, but they had not.

He sat next to me quiet, almost timid. I was after all a “good girl”. I grew up in a Christian home where one should wait until marriage. I truly believed in waiting, but my body was screaming against the logic in my head. A battle began to rage in my mind.

I didn’t say one word to him. I just put forth the signs and hoped that my eyes said what I wanted; when I wasn’t even sure I knew what I wanted. I wanted him to caress me the intimate way I had never before known or experienced. I had read about those feelings and heard about them from friends without understanding the true meaning of how it might feel.

He slowly silently put his hands on my neck. He caressed me ever so delicately as if I might break from the gentle pressure. There was not kissing, just slow caresses. He moved snail like toward my shirt, all the while thinking please hurry with an urgency I could not understand. I wore a lavender shirt with black velvet paisleys on it. It buttoned all the way down the front and the shirt ended at my belly button. I somehow felt sexy in that shirt without understanding why.

Then he slipped under my shirt, then under my bra. I kept thinking, “Don’t stop, and please no one look this way.” The sensations I felt were new, an assault on my senses at the same time. I lost myself in them. A slow building of emotions that had no ownership or understanding rose to the surface claiming to be real and good despite my minds battle to say stop. I forgot that it was a cold December night, that we we’re on a bus surrounded by so many others. My feather down coat provided a shelter, our own little world where my senses soared. I could not believe that such slow curricular caresses could become so much.

He slowly moved from my breasts to the button on my Silver tabs. Logic snapped back into place. I grabbed his hand and said to him, “I’m not like her, I’m not easy.” So much of me wanted to find out what else was in store. If he could make me fly with feather light touches what else could he do? What would more feel like? How much more was there? I so wanted to know. But logic prevailed.

He sat quietly next to me for the remaining 13 miles, and I wanted to cry out, “ I made a mistake, that I wanted more. I wanted him to take me back to that place I had never been before and show me all there was to feel. The bus slowed and stopped in front of the high school, and a sad feeling sunk to the pit of my stomach. We got off the bus without a word to each other for about three weeks.

I walked into the school shop with a sandwich from the cafeteria, and there he was. He wasn’t standing in all his glory like I thought he would. He wasn’t some unreachable unattainable god; he was just a person, a person I adored. He was wearing Wranglers, and smelled that heavenly smell, Stetson. A cologne that was so cheap it should not smell good but does to me even to this day. It transports me back in time. Somehow I can’t remember, we both ended up in the bathroom in the shop. I took a bite of my sandwich and then threw pieces into the toilet.

I was nerves and wanted the same thing that happened that night three weeks ago to happen again. I was hungry, but all that escaped me and all that was left were those glorious feelings from weeks ago. I wanted to close the distance and just ask for what I wanted. I wanted him to evoke those feelings again. I wanted to say, “Touch me again like you did.” I couldn’t though.

I knew I should walk past him and open the door and walk away. Instead I stood there picking at the turkey sandwich from the cafeteria until five minutes or so had gone by. I pulled my eyes away from the floor and away from the sandwich. I looked up at him. I stared into those blue eyes that had captivated me long before the bus.

I took in everything about him. The fact he was slightly shorter than I was even though he was three years older mattered not. Everything about him captivated me. The smell of him I remember most, even now. He took one last look at me and then opened the door granting me the freedom I thought I needed but did not really want. The battle raged in my head with no ability to control it. He said some flip comment I can’t remember, but it hurt me.

He challenged my senses, my beliefs, and had me question my faith. He shook me to my very core and despite all my efforts otherwise, logic won out. I have never forgotten that night on the bus where my senses were awakened, where I felt sensations and feelings I had never felt before. They felt so good that you long to relive those moments over and over. I guess you always do in the recesses of your mind.

Over fifteen years have passed. The next person that shook me to my core like this, made my skin tingle, cause butterflies flutter to life in my belly, make me lose my words and speech, was Parker.

Naughty Story Tuesday

So I have been blogging for almost three years and just recently have I had the pleasure of having followers and fellow bloggers to interact with. A friend and fellow blogger has came up with an idea of posting short naughty stories on Tuesday's. I am going to do my best to post one every Tuesday, but most likely I will only particapaint once a month for now. So look for my first NST post tomorrow.

Sex Drives

When one person in a couple has a different sexual drive then the other it feels kind of like you have a rock stuck in your shoe. It is uncomfortable, it is frustrating, and it is constant. It is not like it prevents you from walking, but its a constant reminder while you walk.

How important is similar sex drives? Can it break a relationship altogether or can a compromise be reached? My ex and I had very different sex drives and I took it as if he didn't want me, need me, desire me. This caused blistering gnawing pain to my soul beyond expression of words.

I then picked at the wound making it worse. The more I tried to make him talk about how I needed not only more sex but more intimacy, the more he withdrew and punished me with silence and avoidance.

As much as we tried to express our own personal view point I do not believe we ever achieved an understanding. I needed the desire to be reflected. I needed him to understand that while sex was a physical act of pleasure there was so much more that comes from the exchange, but to him it was a carnal need born of greed not desire.

He constantly saw my sexual desire for him as something selfish and greedy. Something that was carnal and had nothing to do with him. I don’t think he ever fully understood how much I loved him or desired him.

Even the way we viewed sex as a whole was different. I believe in love and sex but I also believe that sometimes sex can be just sex about pleasure. He did finally admit that he allowed some of his own hang ups get in the way of expressing his desire but unfortunately it was too little too late.

I sincerely hope in my next serious relationship the level of maturity and self revelation I believe I am gaining will help and not hinder it’s growth towards longevity.


The longer we know someone, the longer we are around them we know exactly what buttons to push to inflict just the right amount of pain. How to kick them when they are down, how to punish them, make them bleed until they hemorrhage from the inside out. These buttons can be subtle and other times they can be down right volatile. My question; is the volatile out burst more hurtful or damning then the subtle ones?

With my ex it was his silence, his avoidance of me that would make my heart bleed and almost hemorrhage causing me to bleed out and die. I would have preferred an out burst, an assault of angry words but the silent constant disapproval was more then I could bear.

The silence would come and then go without warning. With every silent treatment a small piece of me died over the years. His issue is that he doesn't see it the same way I do. He sees it as his "step back" to evaluate the situation, diffuse it and not cause more issues. The way I see it is he doesn't even care enough to have a real conversation.

This week a incident happened on our cruise that showed me just how much he can still hurt me even though we are no longer together. His silence and avoidance cut me to my core and the more I wanted to talk or explain my view point the more he withdrew and was silent.

I now know with certainty that we are simply different people. We don't belong together. Perhaps it was a sense of safety, familiarity, friendship, honor, duty and fondness that kept us together.


As a punishment from the gods, Sisyphus was compelled to roll a huge rock up a steep hill, but before he could reach the top of the hill, the rock would always roll back down, forcing him to begin again.

Much like Sisyphus when it comes to love and relationships we push that rock to the top of the hill only for it to roll back down again. Sisyphus couldn't say enough, he was fettered to push the rock up the hill for eternity, but when do we say enough?

When a couple is together and they go separate ways only to find their way back to each other and repeat this cycle again and again is it not much like Sisyphus pushing the rock up the hill only for it to roll back down?

When I was little I had the belief that love was magnificent, intimacy was sacred and special. That was a little bit of truth and a whole lot of error. What do you do when love simply isn't enough to sustain you anymore?

Love both never lives up to, and simultaneously supersedes, our expectations.

An Invisible Time Line

This week has been a time of real self reflection due to the fact it was one year ago this Friday that I found my husband with another woman. That night my life changed. The very fabric of my soul was ripped in two. It wasn't that this man I loved cheated on me, it was my past took on a different tone and my future that had always consisted of him would no longer include him in the same way.

There were all these hopes and dreams that came crashing down all around me, drowning me from the inside out. I could not catch my breath and I was suffocating. It was as if my lungs had filled with fluid and my brain became foggy and could not process the images in front of me properly.

Everything I had believed had crumbled around me. My own self worth came in to question. How could someone who loves you be so devious and sneaky? This level of betrayal makes you question every move made by that person, searching for motive to things even in the past.

On the verge of wanting to give into the fluidness, allowing my organs to become a cornucopia of bloated, rotten flesh and cease to exist, anger took hold. It squeezed me like a vice forcing me to kick my way to the surface. Grasping to grab a hold of a breath, I spat out the fluid from my lungs and volatile anger poured forth.

I wonder if anger/wrath is "thee" emotion that pushes people forward when they are all but ready to give in, it made the list of deadly sins after all. For the most part anger has come and gone, grief and suffering lasted many months and now I am in the acceptance and moving forward stage. I am determined to find hope at the bottom of this barrel.

Looking back through my blog from it's inception until now you can see an invisible time line of happiness, desire, lust, grief, loss, anger, and the struggle for hope.

Thank you to those that truly "SEE" me for me.

Break Even

In a relationship is there one person that loves more than the other? I feel like in my thirteen year relationship I was the one that loved more.

Now please understand I am not saying he did not love me, I am simply saying I feel like I was the one that loved him more. I would have gone to any lengths to make him happy. His happiness was my own.

I could sit here and write examples of how I know I loved him more but to every one else those things are subjective, so I started looking at the relationships around me.

In almost every one of them I could clearly pick out the person that loved more deeply, more profoundly, more completely. They were lost in it, their desire for the person, their need to please, to be near them, to love them completely and wholly without question.

When it is over the one that loved more will inevitably be the one that hurts more.



Since becoming single I can't seem to get any satisfaction! I know this will sound ridiculous to everyone but it just seems like there is less joy, less satisfaction in everything. Even food tastes blah.

I am spending the weekend by myself again so I marinated this steak, threw it on the grill, cut up veggies and made some pasta. I had not eaten all day and I worked, so I should have been starving.

The veggies were good but not spectacular and the steak had no taste. I could have been eating cardboard with marinade on it. You can think maybe I just got a bad cut of steak but there is more to it then just that.

My life has become listless. Things are more murky and grey, boring, and lonely. Oh and I am not getting any S-A-T-I-S-F-A-C-T-I-O-N in the bedroom either!



o Died on March 30, 2010 at the age of 8
o He resided in South Carolina
o Cause of death was motor failure

o April 2003
o Fascinations Boulder, CO
o Lived to sereve Calliope's every need, every pleasure.
o B.O.B traveled extensively. He visited the Cayman Islands, Jamaica, Mexico, and Tennessee. He lived in much less exotic places such as Colorado, Alabama, and South Carolina.

Survived by: The twins, Paul and Paulina and his three brothers J.J, Ben and WA

o No services are being held per his request.
o Memorial funds are being established. Should you like to contribute please contact Calliope Jones.