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Masturbating for an Audience
UPDATE (DEC. 2012): I HAVE, INDEED, NOW MASTURBATED FOR MR.LL. AND, YES, HE LIKED IT. WILL I DO IT AGAIN…PROBABLY. SOMEDAY. ORIGINAL POST: On “Ask Me Anything” a reader inquires about my willingness to masturbate in front of my husband or watch him masturbate in front of me. Interestingly, this is a topic that has come up often in the L.L. home. Mr. LL would love to watch – is totally intrigued by how I go about pleasuring myself. He sees and hears just about as much as you do, dear readers. I’m not much of an exhibitionist in that regard. In fact, for some odd reason, it makes me…
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HNT: It’s getting hot in here…
It’s hot everywhere. Hotter than I like. And when it get’s hot, we start shedding clothes. The Lustful Literate Happy HNT! And since I was playing with paint shop…here are some bonus pics… I sort of like the artistic quality of “ink sketch”. The Lustful Literate The Lustful Literate
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The insecurities of aging
Yes, I’m going there. Why? Because, honestly, if this “blog” is to be anything more than trite, I have to tell it like it is. How else is it (am I) going to be different than anything else on this vast, deep, and growing thing we call the internet? I told you I was thinking about where this blog is going to go. And sure, I plan to continue with my fiction and poetry. But, the personal writing has to be more than just something to turn a crowd on. I can’t just write for my husband (though, I do love to, honey). I can’t just write for people I…
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Absence makes the heart grow….
Or, it can lead to numbness. Pretty much opposite ends of the spectrum, I know. So, here I am, at another crossroads. Been here before, but each time, I’m a bit changed and rearranged. I mean, let’s be honest, I’m not the same person I was yesterday, or a year ago. This blog started out as an anonymous place for me to spout off about sex and share the writing I otherwise could not with my name attached. The world in which I live would not allow it or accept it. And, in all seriousness, I like my world. And I don’t want to fuck it up. It’s sad, really…
