Mar 292011

From our Tumblr site at it’s Top Tumblr Tuesday #3.

I tumbled it originally and Sex Fairy selected it for this week. I couldn’t agree more.


Click the photo to see it larger on our Tumblr site..


Mar 222011

A weekly post highlighting either our favorite, or most popular photo from our site.

Here is our Top Tumblr Tuesday #2. I shot this on our Spring Break trip  and it totally expresses the joyous sexy photo op fuck yeahness of the place.

SpringBreak 2011

Click the photo to see it larger on our Tumblr site.


Mar 132011

I used my belt on her ass. Then rubbed her pussy with lube, then fingered her, then hitachi’d her pussy (with attachment), then hitachi’d her ass while I fucked her pussy. Then more belt.

THEN, I fucked her ass, hard, for a long time. Very hard.

Hot, but not us

Afterward, she said, “Thank you, for fucking my ass. That makes me so happy”.

I couldn’t help but agree.

Mar 082011

This is about prostate massage. Specifically having my prostate massaged by SexFairy and how it is the most incredible feeling fucking ever.
[If you want to learn more, techniques, ect., just look it up. There are 1.6M references on google.]

I have always enjoyed a little playing around on my backdoor. That and I’ve seen a few porn videos demonstrating prostate massage. I shared some with SexFairy and, being the fairy she is, agreed that this was something we should try.

We tried once, it was okay, I guess. Kind of forgot about it.

A few months later, she’s in the mood to try again, and I of course am never in the mood to say no. Fortunately we had recently received a nice addition to our toy collection. If you are into anal play, but not into getting shit all over your hand, dick, face etc., then this is nice to have.

imageClick on the picture for more info.

This time, I’m on my back and SexFairy is between my knees, and has me all oiled up. She takes her time, enjoying some nice deep throating on my cock while stroking my ass. Her finger goes in, slowly at first. Then deeper, and deeper. She feels around. And then OH MY FUCKING GOD she’s pushing against my prostate.

I think I must be cumming. I would swear I had just put a quart of cum all over myself. I feel down. Nothing.

She does this for about 20 minutes, and the whole time I feel like I’m cumming. Not like in waves but constantly, just cumming and cumming.

Not us, but the right idea.

When I finally do cum, it’s even better as she’s still on my prostate.

I felt like I had discovered a new kind of sex. It wasn’t like any sexual feeling I had ever had before and certainly not for that duration. Imagine (guys) you are cumming and can feel the cum riding up your cock. That’s what it felt like, the whole damn time.

We are continuing to get better at this. Trying different positions and the like. I’ll post an update in the future on what really works and what, not so much. Till then. OMFG Smile

Mar 062011

crazy for you

As Sex Fairy said here.

Mar 042011

charlie sheenSeriously. I am. Whitman has noted that it seems I’m obsessed with getting my next ‘fix’ of the Charlie Sheen meltdown. He’s right.  I am. I am one hundred percent fascinated. I feel sort of bad about it – I mean, the guy is OBVIOUSLY having a manic episode IF he’s not on mass amounts of cocaine.
(Maybe both – my God, what a combo THAT must be!)
I just can’t stop watching/reading/smiling about it, though. Schadenfreude? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I can just relate.

Something about the complete and utter ‘fuck you’-ness of his statements makes me grin like a nutjob myself.

I mean, really…who hasn’t wanted to (figuratively, or literally) flip the whole world a bird and scream,

I know I HAVE.

Actually, wait. I HAVE done this.
I had my own similar meltdown, years ago. Excessive drinking, cocaine, sex with people known and unknown, (singles, doubles, WHOEVER). Someone I barely know told me a few years after my “episode” that I had sex with an NFL player (AND his friend) in the attic storeroom of the local dive bar.  REALLY?! Amazing. I had a brush with fame, and had no. idea. whatsoever.
I was doing what and who I wanted when and where it counted most (which was whenever and wherever I wanted). This was totally unhealthy, OBVIOUSLY, and I wouldn’t want to relive it, but it sure seemed fun at the time.

“A drug called Charlie Sheen”? FUCK Yeah, I can totally relate.

Feb 192011

Some years ago, I was a young(er) male, locked into a supposedly committed relationship. My company, like so many others, “offered” me a trip to Las Vegas to attend a trade show as part of a group of companies. So I heavily contemplated this for about the length of a single heartbeat and responded, “Yes it would be an honor to represent my fine company in Las Vegas for as long as is required.” I had never been.

A few weeks later, I find myself in a Las Vegas hotel room with 4 other men in the 25-35 age range. One is flying through the phone book calling each strip club with the same question, “Do you have full nude”? Over and Over. Eventually we settled on a club in the center of a very touristy area. Fortunately for the rest of us, one of the men was very religious and he turned down this adventure. This immediately made him in charge of all of our presence at the trade show the next day, should the evening last into the morning. That left me and three others to find the Sin in the City.

Now I had only ever been in a strip club once before, and that is a whole other story. I was a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. Not knowing what to do, what not to do, imagehow I’d react to semi-naked women wanting my money. That and the other men were more experienced in gentleman clubs and I hate looking like a fool.

As the four of us entered the club, I was immediately beckoned by a very thin blond who wiggled a few feet above me on the low stage. One of my compatriots said “Give her a dollar man,” which I pulled out of my wallet and held up, as if I expected her to grab her purse and put it in. She instead leaned forward and squeezed the bill between her breasts letting my hand feel her warm skin as she pulled back. I was home.

As we were all standing in the center of the bar, simultaneously admiring and wondering, a perfect-ten D-cup blond walked up to my friend and offered him a lap dance. He countered saying he wasn’t feeling well and thought he had a cold coming on. She spent the next ten minutes telling him he needed chicken soup and rest, all while topless, surrounded by our 8 leering eyes.

I was able to look away for a moment and saw this woman, (this girl?) approach me. She looked about 19, with long brown hair, deep eyes, lovely and perky B cups, all in a package that couldn’t have been more than 115 pounds. Her stage name was Cheyenne and this was her fourth day as an “adult dancer.” She started talking to me and before I knew it, I was sitting in a chair at the edge of the room while she waved her body before me, sliding up and down my chest and pants, letting me inhale her entire being. All in the space of 3 minutes and $20.

And that’s when things changed. She kept sitting with me. And we talked. There in the money seats. I wasn’t paying anymore. She wasn’t dancing. It was really, like a date. Except that she was topless and we were anything but alone. We talked though 3 or 4 songs before another girl commented that she better get back to a more income-producing mode.

During our conversation we somehow came upon the fact that I had never been to a certain burger chain restaurant only found in the West. So she offered to meet me for lunch at said restaurant, right off the strip the next day. Soon enough, my friends and I had either run out of money or tired of enduring non-stop erections that had no satisfying end in sight, despite the view, and the night ended. imageSo the next day, facing that ever present challenge of hope versus reality, three of us drove over to the restaurant. Not one of us really expected the stripper to meet the customer for lunch the next day. And there, in the restaurant, wearing a snug tank top and very short raggedy cutoffs, she stood, smiling as she saw me. I’m not sure how long it too my friends to pick their jaws up from the floor, but they left as she promised to take me anywhere I needed. Oh God, yes, please.

After lunch, we went to a small bar and had a drink or two. Okay, it was 2 pm or so but I was in Vegas, and she was a stripper. What would YOU have done??? We left the bar and she asked me to drive her car. I had asked her what her real name was, and she told me it was Mona Lisa. And I’m thinking, “This girl has two stage names and no real name.”  At which point she picked up a letter from the floor her car, addressed, yes, to Mona Lisa. Last name withheld because no way I can remember what it was anyway.

While I was driving, she offered me a bag of Cinnamon Red Hots, those tiny bright red spicy candies. She held the bag in her lap and I reached over to take a few. Due to either my imagesubconscious desire, or her intentional desire, I clumsily let a large pile of Red Hots fall from my hand, and right Into her crotch! I looked at her, and she looked at me, and said, “Go ahead.” So my hand was soon digging past the spicy candy for a far better treat. With a stoplight, my mouth went down too. Soon her pants were at her ankles as I drove her car and brought her to orgasm with my wet fingers.

Here I made a crucial mistake. I asked her to show me her breasts, since “you do that all the time now at the club.” In that instant I immediately went from ‘fun sexy guy I like hanging out with and will probably fuck,’ to ‘slimy guy from the strip club.’

She dropped me off back at the conference center, where I met the challenge of “No you didn’t!” with “Oh, yeah? Smell my fingers!” At least, for a while, I had found the Mona Lisa in Las Vegas.