Archive for the ‘gloves’ Category
“HERE . . . I brought you something, but you MIGHT not want it and that’s okay.”
She handed me a little greyish pouch with some black things sticking out of it. The pouch felt scrumptious, and I realized the little black things sticking out of it were GLOVE FINGERS! And the pouch was just the cuffs of the gloves turned inside out around the tips!!
I pretty much lost my shit in front of everyone, I was so excited . . . perfectly tailored tiny buttery black leather gloves. From when she was in HIGH SCHOOL. In the fifties!! In perfect condition. I put them on and they’re only a tiny bit too big . . . just enough to make delicious wrinkles. I made fists and admired the way my knuckles look stretching out the black leather, making shine pop out on each little knuckle-bump. I put my palm to my face and breathed in, and wanted to push my fingertips into my face and smother myself, just for a little while. Feel the leather on my lips. I held my own hand and felt the heat slowly seeping from one hand into the other through the leather. I loved them so much I had to take them off to concentrate on what anybody was saying, sure I wouldn’t be able to overcome the intense sensual and sexual stimulation from the gloves and be able to actually HEAR anything.
But I did hear. I am learning so much about love. And fear. And who I love and why. And how to love. But maybe not as fast as other people. All I know is some people are very wise and I’m blessed to know them and be loved and comforted and guided by them.
I couldn’t come. Even though I came half a dozen times watching the video of him and his new girlfriend. Even though I was happy and looking forward to seeing him . . . until after another one of those consciousness-changing meetings again and he was here and I put myself and my body and most of my feelings in a dark unmarked detached waiting room. So of course I can’t come all withdrawn and defensive like that (and going through Seroquel withdrawal), but at least I can get fucked hard. And of course he thinks I’m coming, but I have to break it to him when he asks for confirmation: uhmmmmm, NO. “Not when your legs were shaking?” No. “I thought I was doing good.” It *was* good! It felt great on my g-spot!
It is not your dick that failed me. The dick that’s still inside me, making me want to do something I’ve never (or rarely or at least can’t specifically recall) felt compelled to do with anybody which is to eat cum out of my pussy. HIS cum. I’m on my knees backed up against him with my hand cupping my pussy, ready to catch it as we move those parts away from each other just enough for hot cum to pour out of me into my palm. Fluid . . . consistent flowing viscosity, no thick globs ever. It’s a sacrament of loss, pressing my gasping open mouth into my tiny slimy hand, the most connected I’ve felt to him all night long. Eyes closed, tongue lapping at my own hand, breathing in a fucking beautiful flavor that I turn around and kiss all over him. Like sweet wet butter-polished wood burning at body temperature in the back of my mouth and throat. Trying to get the most out of the last little bit of something I will never have my fill of. Into his mouth, smearing it on his chin, allowing myself to love the fuck out of his face again, pressing cum from my hand onto his shoulder and wishing I could see more of it glazing his face. I eat another handful . . . it’s that fucking good to me and writing this feels like a middle-aged gross fetlifey webwhore cliche. But it’s painfully true and I mean it. I never thought I’d honestly be talking about how much I love the taste of someone’s jizz and truly believing blogging about it is romantic. I want to be intoxicated by cum together. On our faces and kiss-eating it from each other’s mouth and shiny cheeks and chin.
Today I was late, but it was perfect timing so I only had to try not to cry in front of people for half an hour. But my nose did leak teary-snot which I did wipe off with my hands so at the end I warned the ladies not to hold them. And the ladies so gently smiled on both sides of me, one firmly gripping my left arm, another resting her hand on my right. And I couldn’t say the words, only feel the warmth of their hands penetrating through my thick black coat and grey dress, knowing that warmth flowed from their hearts, through their outstretched arms connected to all the other ladies and their hearts in the circle.
Sometimes you pray for things even though you don’t believe in God. I prayed her for him, and my prayers were granted. Not by “God”, but by the good in him (and not like I truly MADE something happen/have some special power or some bullshit . . . I just recognized what he really wants and what would make him happy, and chose to concentrate on wanting that instead of wanting things/everything for myself). Because of seeing what’s good and worthy in someone else — because of loving him a lot and wanting the happy things and love (and not bad things) to happen to him and hoping that the best would prevail in his life.
I am not the best. And he can’t do what’s best for me right now, either, but I do think he’s trying HIS best.
I knew it, and I know it, and I’m happy for it. They made and are making the best happen with each other. Now I need to pray for (more of) the best in and for myself. For my wife. For a garden someday. To just get through each day without inflicting pain on myself or others. To do work that feeds us and I can feel proud of at the end of the day. For fearless sleep. For gratitude for every bite. For my love to be believed. For my intense easy loves to make pleasure and beauty and magic thrive. For what’s hard for normal people to understand about me (continue to) be where I find God, and where other people find God in me. For everyone to have at least one sweet dream that comes to life. To be more brave about what and how I share and choosing the simple things I know are most important (even if they’re not what are most important to other people). To keep getting the amounts of love and help I’ve been privileged with so far, and for it to help me make a difference.
A couple of my favorite old patriotic not-really-porn stunts:
Aaaaaand hammy song & dance number (you’ll have to turn the volume up . . . or not, if you want to spare yourself the agony of my dorkiness):
Note: I didn’t get all dressed up to do that; it was a spontaneous thing that happened after shooting these pictures.
Considering how sick, tired and antisocial I felt yesterday, I wound up having a super-social (for me) Valentine’s Day eve, starting with going with DaddyW for burgers and to see one of the best movies EVER on the big screen: The Third Man.
It was a double feature (worth watching this trailer for the festival, FYI) and I was so tired I almost fell asleep during Journey Into Fear (which I thought was perfectly entertaining even though it’s a “bad” movie, and I *loved* Orson Welles wearing those gloves and suggestively taking one of them off), but by midnight I perked up and hung out with a friend for a bit talking about one of my favorite subjects (POOPING!) and how old we are/feel.
And then I decided to see if a friend who was only in town until today was still awake enough to come over before he left. AND HE WAS!
It was a cozy night of fun and fuckery in flannel sheets. And now I’m going to have a bunch of cozy days and nights all to myself!
11.3.13 NOTE: we are sorry for this. I’ll try to use it as a teachable / learning opportunity in upcoming posts. I don’t want to link to any good external posts from this one and risk someone tracking back to this post / causing further offense.
Delia did a sweetly-scary Halloween crossing-over-into Day of the Dead themed shoot for the season:
I *love* the way her smooth balls look in this shot:
And all the pretty flowers in her hair:
JOIN NOW to download the full set of 214 BIGGER high-res images AND HD video . . . and wish her a happy birthday!
So it looks like we’re celebrating the first NIGHT of spring with (ta-da!) ALEX TALVEZ!
I’m very excited about his name. Which sounds like an understatement, but it’s not because it means he’s INTO this whole homemade porn thing enough to have invested time and commitment into his porn presence, and that is all very exciting to me. He and Lightning Allie and other people, too, have played with some video and picture and fantasy things I haven’t even seen yet, in fact, making the possibilities for reviving TrixiesHouseboy.com much much better.
I’m also VERY HAPPY TO SEE THOSE GLOVES ON HIS HANDS!! I wonder if he’ll bring them tonight?
Regardless, I know he can’t help but bring his (aptly described by one voyeur last time he was here) “impressive physique”.
Be spying tonight on our lifecams – I don’t know which part of the house we’ll be in at what times, so keep an eye on all three of our cam pages. I’m not promising wild and crazy action (or even that we’ll have electricity & be broadcasting), because who knows what anyone might be in the mood for, but if there IS wild and crazy action . . . take screencaps to send to me!
It’s Delia’s birthday, and she’s got sexy sparkly spidery pics to celebrate Halloween and her special day!
If you send sweet birthday wishes her way, it might do a lot to mitigate the fact that she’s spending it with freaky-me
You can keep it a little scary, folks. Especially ye women-folk. It’s not supposed to be a holiday for being user-friendly. Make someone uncomfortable with mien or mask, if you dare. Inhabit the potent grey area between the mortal world and beyond. Seduce with provocative ugliness.
You don’t have to try so hard to be so fucking sexy. Look like someone who’ll give him a black eye instead of a blowjob. Try on a different kind of power.
Digging gore out of my cunt to spatter on you:
We’re taking a special day off today, but I still wanted to post nudie pics that would really give you something to think about:
Do any of my friends and fans who are also into Batman know if/how much that question is/was ever played with, particularly in fanfic, especially of the, ummm, taboo erotic kind? Anyway, I don’t know much about Batman beyond Christian-Bale-as-The-Batman, but I certainly do like toying with that notion, as I mentioned in the gallery I posted for members:
Do you imagine Batman’s mom’s boobs as being as big as mine?
Thanks to Lightning Allie for the awesome opera-length black leather gloves, Delia for taking the pictures, and my Aesthetician for cancelling my brow waxing appointment at the last minute, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have spotted these sunglasses and thought of them as a perfect way to get a shoot in without grooming my face AND squeeze in a Halloween-appropriate photo set!
Apples (and pears) are big Washington crops . . . and get all romantically attached to New Zealand.
Have you tried these varieties of apple yet: Envy and/or SweeTango? If not, you should . . . they’re delicious. I haven’t been so aware of being introduced to new apple varieties since Fuji and Gala came out.
I’m not sure which one I like better. Obviously the Envy is more porntastic (I’m so in love with the long red leather gloves and general branding on top of the apple itself), but flavor and texture-wise . . . I’m going to have to eat a bunch more to see.
I picked out a few free galleries and videos from my favorite mainstream porn network for you. They get naughtier as they progress (apologies if you’re surfing on a phone; if so the free galleries redirect to their mobile site, or I discovered they do for me, anyway – LAME!):
Anyone know who the model is? She totally embodies the yummy stereotypes I imagine when I think of popular cheesecake porn.
Okay, so I masturbated today alternating between two of these movie clips:
I watched the three girls and a rimjob video a couple of times but I made sure to return to the action pictured above and orgasm while the blonde in sunglasses and shiny gold fingerless gloves was sucking cock. Not normally what I’d pick for a quickie but I couldn’t sit and look at all of this porn picking stuff out to feature here without getting crazy-horny and these two clips were GOOD!
One video clip I so wanted to share but decided against had half a dozen girls naked on bicycles; I LOVE THAT SHIT! I didn’t like the hardcore direction the action went in the trailer so fast, though, but I’m sure there’s enough tease-ier stuff in the full length version that I’d have enjoyed with just the bald pussies sticking and unsticking to the seats and girls kicking their legs up and stuff. I really wanted to see them RIDING the bikes. Sigh.
Moving right along, we arrive at the hottest of all (and the grossest, which is why I like it, but TRIGGER ALERT for taboo role play stuff):
NOTE: I only enjoy fictionalized versions of that sort of thing, and absolutely do not condone in real life the kind of behavior it suggests.
Anyhoo . . . Check out RealityKings if you want to see what’s great about mainstream porn!
Paths are much cooler when they seem to be leading somewhere.
Here I am naked today in the far corner of our backyard that Delia spent all day Monday clearing of blackberry bushes and other seemingly impenetrable brush, debris, etc. :
Delia putting on her gloves that day, about to get down to business:
You couldn’t have seen that corner of fence two weeks ago AT ALL . . . now it’s like a new room back there. Sort of empty right now, but full of potential.
Here’s a free gallery of Delia on that same path six or seven months ago before a lot of the clean-up happened (but still after a huge amount of brush was cut back right when we moved in; before that you couldn’t really even walk down that path at all):
Last month Delia also cleaned out and replanted a big area along the path closer to where she’s posing in those pics; she took out a huge old woody rosemary bush (it was cool, but DONE/overtough; we have rosemary planted in other places) and other messes and put in some new perennials. You’ll have to wait and see how they look in a couple of months!
We’re opening up lots of little spaces and I’m excited and hopeful about turning them into charming places for us to shoot. My hope is to divert money we’d normally spend to shoot in vacation rental homes for variety and put it into plants and containers and cool stuff for shooting outside here. That wasn’t an option in the other places we rented (lack of privacy, not the right relationship with the landlords, etc.).
I do love renting other spaces away from home to shoot in and hope we can still do that sometimes, but this is awesomely convenient plus the gardening part is therapeutic and something we can enjoy EVERY day. It is slow and a lot of work (and potentially really expensive because I totally want to buy tons of plants and materials . . . and pretty containers so we aren’t burying ALL of our money in Delia’s ex-wife’s property/can take it with us to wherever the next place is, but mostly because pots are pretty and you can move them around FOR MORE COOL AND DIFFERENT SHOOTING ARRANGEMENTS) but I’m learning a lot from it.
I hope this doesn’t sound too much like a vision of Grandfather’s Secret Thomas-Kinkade-Inspired Garden Porn. By the way, here’s a very interesting critique of Kinkade’s unnatural paintings of “light”. Reading that didn’t make me hate his guts, though; it made me relate to him as a pornographer. I definitely feel bad for the guy on a lot of levels and his sad lonely death relapsing into active alcoholism. I don’t think one person can be responsible for a nation of bad taste, and I don’t even hate people’s bad taste when it comes to fake glowing storybook scenes. I mean, I totally watch Toddlers and Tiaras and one of my most cherished possessions is my dancing bananas ashtray – I get so much pleasure from looking at that thing! Yeah, it would be nice if more people could differentiate amazing beauty and talent from crap and value them accordingly, but whatever.
Trying to be such a generous snob-of-the-people is so much hard work I think I need an ice cream cone and a nap now.