Mz. Conduct's House of Sin #114 Circus of Births
edited: Saturday, April 28, 2007
By mz kimi
Rated "R" by the Author.
Posted: Sunday, March 25, 2007
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ďEverything has cracks, thatís how the light comes inĒ Leonard Cohen (R.I.P.)
Christ in a cocktail, shove those dirty martinis down my throat and take olive my retort at: guttergrl69.hotmail.com .
New Yearís resolutions, not for me! Valentineís Day, bah humbug! Why is it that we pick just one commercial day a year to promise ourselves weíll change bad habits, profess our love, make our lives better, or wipe the slate clean? The slates are not clean, honey, they are full of messes and junk from the past that we should be working each and every day on, learning and listening to the inner voice. Without all the crap weíve waded through in the past we wouldnít know what we want or where we want to be in the future. Even if we donít know exactly what or where that is, by reviewing our past we can at least rule out what we donít want or where we donít want to beÖ thatís what we can control, and thatís something, damnit!
I woke up this morning after a convoluted night sleep, tossing and turning with freakiní hot flashes and memories of female ejaculations the night before (one out of two ainít bad.) I had a dream that I was on some sort of expedition in Moscow. Everything was stark white, covered in ice, and snowflake crystals the size of dinner plates were falling all around. There were about six of us, a mix of women and men, all comfortable in a huge snow cave; complete with several big round beds with crimson down blankets and a million pillows tossed on top of them. [Interpretation: even when things arenít warm and fuzzy, one can still find comfort] The premise to that dream was something about getting to an ice cave and researching crystals in exact shapes of penises. Hot verses cold, interesting. I woke before we found the cave or the crystals, which I suppose can mean I was still on the search, yet comfortable and open to whatever my heart allowed.
Then, with the divine, universal energy, and the order I put into it, I met my Romeo in Black Jeans and have discovered after all these years just what real friendship and connection is. I wonít be writing about this private part of my life, as it remains the most sacred element Iíve ever encountered, and deserves to be held in that light.
So, meanwhile back at the ranch of raunch, the girls came over for cocktails the other evening and, as some of us enjoy, we watched gay porn and painted each otherís toenails. I demonstrated the best oil and way to shave oneís pubic hair completely off and when the girls felt how smooth a cooder can actually be, the girlie painted mouths got involved. We ended up in a pile of moist girl flesh on my big, leopard bed sheets. It was sensual warmth that curled our toes and touched things deeper than flesh. Heaving breasts upon pierced nipples, teeth on necks, mounds pressing against mounds, round asses in the air, double headed dildos pleasuring simultaneously, and lips locking labias. We took turns demonstrating different boys that we knew, their kisses and cunnilingus performances, and we laughed, screamed, orgasmed like chainsawsÖ then made more cocktails. Now, thatís a cum-passionate girl day!
A few nights later, on a warm, rainy spring evening, I attended a friendís birthday bash, held in a giant Victorian house sewn with tiny twinkling red lights throughout. Lighting is everything, baby! The faint crimson glow illuminated everyoneís faces just enough to cast a devilish ambience to the night.
After mingling and meeting people (many I didnít know), I decided I was heating up like a Bunsen burner and looked for a room to toss my black, velvet coat in. As I wandered through the massive halls, the decadent howl of Diamanda Galas seeping through the house, I walked into a large darkened bedroom with five huge white candles burning on the fireplace hearth. My nose detected the sultry scent of sandalwood and cedar. The rain beat down against the leaded windows and I suddenly got a shiver down my spine. I slipped off a sleeve of my coat when suddenly two arms held my hands behind my back, and the deep voice of a man I couldnít place, whispered, ďLet me show you to the coat closet, beautiful girl.Ē Then he quickly garnished that statement with, ďDonít turn around, itíll make this better.Ē
Something sounded remotely familiar in the depth of his voice, but I couldnít quite place it. He took my coat and still bound my hands behind me, standing so close I couldnít turn around to see him. I played along, as the moisture between my thighs started soaking my black lace bloomers. As he held my wrists, he slowly moved them up his flat, bare stomach. I could smell his soap, something clean and comforting. I ran my fingers over his chest, or as much as I could reach, and lingered when I touched the happy trail. Not much hair, but enough to guide me, wanting to grip farther down. The stranger threw my arms in front of me, wrapped his arms around mine, holding me tighter. Then pushing my body, I felt his substantial stiffness as he walked me into a huge closet and began kissing the back of my neck, his lips dragging across the ink on my shoulders until I was shuddering almost uncontrollably. His moans and mine mixed in the motions until I came undone. My knees buckled as he caught me and gently turned me around, his mouth on mine, both demanding more. The flicker from the distant candles danced vaguely on a dark haired, handsome face, but I still couldnít recognize the man. He was right, it was better this way.
The stranger lifted my skirt and sunk to his knees, breathing, sucking, and licking in my juices as I cried out in a hedonistic holler. He sprang to standing, his hand shot to my mouth, muffled the sounds of my pleasure. With his hand still over my mouth, he banged me like a cheap screen doorÖ until I took over, grabbing his hips, I pounded myself onto him, over and over, then my hands reached his biceps, held them down, above his head, until we both released, one after another in a mad craze. Zapped of energy, we crumbled, right down in a pile of coats and handbags. Breathing hard for what seemed like hours, we finally gathered ourselves and walked out to the candlelit room where I could see his face. Well, what do you know; it surely was the birthday boy! He told me he had always had a fantasy of doing that to me and what a perfect opportunity. Amazing. After all it was his day, but surely became mine too.
Speaking of birthdays, I have a big one coming up, which my friends have planned some sort of surprise shin-dig for. Iím excited and will embrace all that Iím given, most likely in more ways than one!
Dear Mz. Conduct,
I have a very small penis and although my wife has never complained, it still and always has bothered me. Is there anything you could tell me about this subject that would help ease my mind? Are those products really helpful?
A lot of men are obsessed with their penises, no matter what size - just the biological nature I suppose - but I think you guys are much more worried about that than we women, for the most part anyway.
First off, no the products donít work. Donít waste your money. When you stroke yourself try using a warming oil and see how big it gets, you may be shocked. I have an organic clove and blood orange oil that makes all the difference in the world. You could try using a cock ring as well, as they can keep the stiff in stiffness and also make it appear larger as well as enhance your orgasm. All that blood is trapped and expands the skin to the fullest. They make all sorts of cock rings, but a leather adjustable ring I found works the best. You can take it off easier if itís uncomfortable and the leather is less pinching.
Keep in mind, I have had fabulous lovers with wee appendages and horrid lovers with huge ones, so itís really all about tantra and what you do with what you have. Your wife doesnít complain, bless her heart, so shut your hole or Iíll be compelled to bitch slap you and snip off whatever it is you do have.
Dear Mz. Conduct,
My boyfriend doesnít seem to like fellatio. I like to give it to him, but he always changes it up so that we end up in another position. I wonder if Iím not good enough at it or is it something else. What do you think?
Christ with a crowbar, has it ever occurred to you to ask him about this? People donít communicate enough in this lifetime and thatís where trouble begins. Maybe you arenít good enough, maybe he just isnít into it, or maybe the sky will fall on you. My point is that you should ask him about his needs, likes, erogenous zones, and tell him of yours.
Some men donít really like getting head just as some women donít like getting licked. Some men say their penis is too sensitive for fellatio, or some say theyíd rather eat pussy, or some love it, itís just a crapshoot. You wonít truly know until you ask them, not me! If you care and respect your partner then you talk about these things, and take into consideration what they like or donít like. Either live with it happily or move on, silly girl.
© All rights reserved Kim Alvarez