The singing of birds and gentle splashing of water promise serenity. The chimes receive an occasional tickle from the wind.

This is my backyard.

My oasis.

The skies promise rain. The air is heavy with its intent. I don’t mind. For, I am going to enjoy this moment for what it is, my moment. A trusting moment with nature as the cardinals and doves slowly come out of hiding and feed at the feeder close to me. The red and yellow finches sing for their turn on the sock. The young squirrel waits high in his perch for the cat to turn the other way. A moment that will end too soon as the patrons of the hotel start to pack their cars, slam their doors, and scurry along. A moment that will end too soon as my neighbors begin their day perfecting their oasis. A moment that is destined to end as I over think the plans for the day, the need to tidy, clean, trim or mow.

This moment may end but only to lead to another as the smiling faces of my children peek through the windows and blow me morning kisses.

Hands were strong

~damn, this is wrong~

Lips crushing

~make me say no~

Fingers tangled

~don’t let go~

Clothes slipping

~no~

Curves caressing

~two steps back~

Tongue teasing

~I can’t breathe~

Naked bodies

~mind racing~

Electric heat

~mouth watering~

Sex hovering in the air

~damn, this can’t be wrong~

Art by samarelart.com

I planted poppies around our maple tree.  I forget what kind of maple tree we have. Purple?  Not Japanese. It’s not too tall but it does have lovely deep purple leaves.  It grows sturdy limbs great for giving young boys an opportunity to learn to climb or do pull ups.

I like this tree.

I planted three beautiful crimson red poppy plants for my youngest son.  These were his request.  At the beginning of spring, I had each of my boys pick something they wanted planted.  My oldest son picked pink hibiscus for the backyard and my youngest the poppies.

We took tender loving care as we carefully sowed the seeds in the store-bought tiny seedling greenhouse.  We planted his seeds next to my wildflowers.  Every day we checked the soil for moisture and sprouts.  I remember the tiny dance of victory when the first signs of green life appeared.

My rows of wildflowers continued to thrive.  His poppies produced a leaf or two.  By the end of a month all three rows of my wildflowers were hearty enough to transplant and only barely a row of his looked sturdy enough to survive this crazy spring weather.  I took extreme care transplanting the baby pods.  Mine stayed sturdy and grew quickly.  Even with making homemade greenhouses for the tiny poppies after they were planted, they still struggled.  My son checked the flower beds daily.  I ignored the look of despair with jokes and laughter.  The tiny plants just seam to suffer from failure to thrive.

Happenstance stood in my favor this day: 4.26.13

I found beautiful growing poppies in large containers for sale at a local hardware store.  They were sturdy, strong, and rich with roots.  There were young buds promising bright blooms a month after planting.  They were brand new.  I stood in the cool morning shade as the store workers carefully removed the plastic from the racks.  I eagerly picked my favorites (and one for the lady across the street).

I planted those poppies between the tangled roots of this maple.  Still left in the ground were the tiny seedlings we first planted.  Maybe they will surprise us and grow strong on their own one day.

I sat on my gardner’s stool under the new leaves of the maple tree with the freshly turned soil, the packed mulch, and the bright blooms until the bus came and my Young One stepped from behind the large vertical doors.  His face was priceless.  His smile and hugs genuine.  He placed his hand on my cheek and said, “Thank you, mom.  Thank you for doing this for me.”  I felt so much pride at the tenderness of his words.  At the joy these three little plants had brought.

He stooped admiringly beside these plants and then looked upwards toward the windows of the house.  I followed his gaze and heard him say, “I’ll be able to see these from my windows for years.”

I fought back tears.  They were happy tears though.

Like I said the other day…

If you plant it, will it grow?

With just the right amount of nurturing, watch it bloom.

The backyard building door creaked its complaints as I worked the handle and pushed the heavy door open.  I waited through the poorly placed Christmas decorations and falling over Halloween props to find my favorite lounge chair.  It isn’t a chair made for cushiony comfort, but it’s made for sweet summer breezes and sun induced naps.

I could smell the perfect purple blooms of the Japanese Wisteria over hanging my patio gutters and roof. I could hear the trickle of my waterfall, gush of the pond pump, and the sweet chatter of the cardinals.  I could squint through the young leaves of the oak tree to see the yellow finches fight for the top spot of the feeder.  I know the squirrel family is hiding in the shadows, waiting.

The music plays faintly from the outside stereo.  I tap my toes in rhythm.

I close my eyes and drift to sleep.

This moment is mine.  No weeds to pull.  No flowers to plant.  No yard to mow. No dinner to cook.  I soak up each precious ray from the warm spring sun…

just where I left off from the waning autumn heat.

Bite

Lick

Slap my ass

Tie me to the bed

Make me whimper

Make me beg

Make me scream your name

Pinch

Pull

Suck my nipple

Make me moan

Make me cream

Make me scream your name

I’m excited at the possibilities of what this spring and summer project may bring.  With new seasons come new life and opportunities.  New adventures.

This last year has been unique.  It will never be repeated.  And, like this last year, I wait patiently for each little leaf to sprout and bear its gift that is unique to only  that plant.

I anxiously await the birth of new things, ideas, and adventures.

What will take your breath away this year?

i said i wouldn’t cry today

i said i wouldn’t spill my soul

in searing ribbons down my cheeks

i said i wouldn’t gasp for air as

my heart tightened in my chest -

constricted my throat

i said i would smile with

pretty pink lips

and dull the raw edges in my mind

i said i would sigh as final words were

chiseled into stone

i said i wouldn’t cry today

I want to be at the beach
where the palm trees touch the ocean
I want you to be able to taste the salt
as your tongue trails across my lips
I want to run bare-footed
along the sandy coast
I want to feel your fingers
on my neck
as they untie the strings of my suit
I want to close my eyes and
sway with the breeze
I want to feel our bodies
warm under the sun

I want to be at the beach
where the palm trees touch the ocean

Kiss my lips

Let passion escape

Taste my skin

…as if this is our first time

Kiss my lips

Drink my dew

Make shivers dance upon my soul

…as if I am your favorite fantasy

Kiss my lips

Sticky, sweet

Tease my body

…as if I’m the prize

Kiss my lips

Slide your hands

Taunt my desire

…as if tonight’s our last

xo

I couldn’t help myself from browsing the new racks of bras that the stores were displaying in all their bright and vibrant colors.  I feel like living my youth with all the neon and mixed matched colors.  I embrace the wearing of pink, green, and orange together.  I did it today.  However, I did find myself in utter disappointment at the emerging spring lingerie items.  I so wanted the cute hot pink, black polka-dotted bra to wear under my brand new white burn out tee.  But… NOooOoooOOoo!  It’s like those damn designers can only find these too cute patterns in material swatches that could only be cut to fit nothing larger than a C cup.  Could they not have managed to put a couple of those swatches together to fit a girl with a tad more curves than a B cup?

Sadly, my disappointment didn’t end with the polka dots.  Rack after rack, store after store I met the same demise.  Sure I found a bra in my size, but it was white or a solid basic color.  I wanted a smooth bra that popped!!  I wanted it today.  I didn’t want to have to spend hours on the internet and pay outrageous fees for expedited shipping.  Sigh.  I went home defeated.  I beat those blahs by adding pink, blue, and purple highlights and tips to my hair.  If I couldn’t get my bra to match my nails, my hair was the next best thing.

I had to go to the doc the other day.  Nothing special, just the annual “check my girlie parts” exam.  On schedule, I got a call from the office to remind me of the appointment.  Without thinking after she asked if I would make my scheduled time, I said that I would be there with bells on.  I laughed a bit when I ended the call.  I almost bought clip on labia bells to wear into the exam room.  Just because.

As I had the customary ushering onto the hard, cold, paper-covered table, I asked if I could keep my socks on.  I wore them special for this day.  I was pleased as punch to say when she said yes.  It was FreEzInG in that damn room!

I was barely covered in the “open in front” and “sheet to my chin” position when my doc walked in.  I feel odd sometimes around the docs I see personally outside my professional day.  But, I swallow my modesty and lay back all the same.

Young Doctor T walks in and begins the automated chit-chat.  (To my delight he is in the room just moments after me (so quickly that is, I barely got a the 2 photos taken)) He explains that he didn’t want to keep me waiting and wanted to fit me in before he had to perform a Cesarean.  I looked him straight in the eyes as he tests the flesh and nipples of my breasts and tell him, “No worries.  I will be a straight in and out for you.”

He smirks slightly under his dark lashes as the final stainless steel appliances fall into the sink, and his finger slides gently in and out of my ass.  He snaps the blue exam gloves off and tosses them into the foot powered trash can.  With his hand on the door knob ready to leave, he tells me that everything seemed in good shape except he didn’t find any bells.

Damn.

Wash away the day

Wash away the angst

Wash away the bigotry

Wash away the hate

Wash away the tears

…the salty trails of despair

Wash away the stink

Wash away the hunger

Wash away the shame

Wash away the restraint

Wash away the day

Wash away the Sin

…to give me a kiss!!

I love all the ‘mustache’ jokes.  I’d tell you a few that I’ve heard recently, but I’ll shave them for later.

I missed popping in and playing with you on Valentine’s.  All the stories     of romance and fornication.  All the chocolate nibbles and champagne kisses…

I hope each of you had a delicious day that left you with wet sticky kisses.

Until tomorrow,

xoxo

I had lots of words, thoughts, ideas I wanted to share.  I had grandiose illusions. I had first world problems and insatiable thoughts of infidelity.

I’ve had one busy week.  Hell, it’s been a busy few weeks.  These weeks have done nothing but given me a glimpse into the future that waits to be unfolded.

I hunger for the untold tasks set before me.

I ache to satisfy every need that needs me to lend an ingredient…

Until then, I take time to enjoy the things that make me smile.  I enjoy the things that curl the ends of my lips into the slightest of upward curves. I dance to the song of tomorrow while I enjoy the taste of today…

Comprised of 25 of my first favorite erotic poems, I have released my first publications.  I can’t quite describe the sense of pride and satisfaction when the final steps were completed.  I’m also excited for what the next steps will be added to this beginning block.

As always, any reviews, likes, advice, or comments would be received with the utmost appreciation and naughty love.

I look forward to many more naughty adventures!

Licks and Nibbles,

NN

Here in ebook:

http://www.amazon.com/Thoughts-Delicious-Nibbles-Erotic-ebook/dp/B00B3KKGJQ/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&qid=1359602545&sr=8-7&keywords=sexy+thoughts

Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Naked-Nurse/e/B00B6176UO/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

AND, PRINT!

Now you can hold a little piece of me in your hands to book mark, highlight, and touch.

https://www.createspace.com/4159191

It’s just a simple moleskin notebook, not much bigger than a wallet sized photo.  That’s why I love it.  It fits snugly in the back pocket of my jeans or shorts.  I love the attached book-marker.  I love the feel of the feel of the pages when I run my fingers over them.  This little black book has been mine for 1/2 dozen years.  I haven’t seen it for at least one.

I caught myself smiling a little as I rubbed my finger down the tiny spine.  I played with the tiny frayed edge of the sticker.  I remember sitting on a plane to Las Vegas when I perfectly centered the warning label.  I remember having to stifle a giggle at the tiny gasp from the older lady next to me.  The book was still innocent then.

The pages slowly filled with thoughts for stories, erotic adventures, questions from emails, and, from time-to-time, a poem or two.  There’s almost a completely written story to “The Chronicles of The Naked Nurse” tucked away in there.

I found names of old friends with questions for, Dear NN.  Seeing some of the old myspace friends brought a taste of nostalgia to the lips.

Each written page I thumbed past was like a silent movie in my mind. Each blank page, a script waiting to be written.

It truly was like finding buried treasure.

Eating for Three

His mouth swallows my flower.
I feel his fingers thrusting,
sliding in out of my wetness.
My mind envisions another’s mouth
wandering the perked peaks.
Their hands grasping, tugging, pinching.
Their warm tongue teasing.
As my core tightens and moans,
my body feels the touch of another.
As HIS fingers and breath tease my growing desire,
my body ignites.
HIS satisfying swirls
Their magnificent nibbles
Leave erotic traces across my soul.
Is it his cock in my mouth or
her breast taking my breath away?
I feel their hands as
HIS takes the prize.

He backed me up against the wall.

I should have been scared.  I should have panicked.  I should have run.  I should have done anything but close my eyes and breathe in the smell of him.  His heavy scent of musk and desire warmed me like a blanket in the coldest of nights.  I could feel the heat from his arms as they braced against the walls framing me inside.

I should have protested.  I should have screamed.  I should have done anything but fall captive to his breath on my skin, the tremble in his touch.

His kiss paralyzed me.  His soft needy lips pressing against mine.  His tongue demanding entrance.  His fingers tracing my cheek, shoulder, arm… reaching my fingers.  Interlacing his with mine.

I should have resisted.  Insisted.  I should have done anything but let him lead me out for that first Slow Dance.

…and a Good Night To All!!

Many wishes for the New Year.  As the final hours tick away, I wish for you all a wonderful 2013 and all that jazz!!  May the new year find you a little happier, a little wiser, and whole lot naughtier!!

I don’t have a list of resolutions.  I have things I want to do, improve on, finish, and start. I have the desire to hear a new soundtrack.  To sing new songs.  To explore new maps.

But, first, a good night to you.  A good morning on a new year.  And…

Many Licks and Nibbles!!

xoxo

As I wait for Mr. Claus to eat his cookies and deliver his presents, I wanted to peek in on you all this Christmas Eve and send a magical wish for each and every one of you.  I hope your Christmas continues to hold happy memories and happy moments.  I hope you have someone to toast that glass of wine with… if not, cheers.  Now, it’s time for me to stuff some stockings.  I’ll be waiting for you under the mistletoe!!

That sneaky little elf makes it hard for mommy to uncork that delicious bottle of red with express letters delivered from the North Pole. However, a little extra visitors tonight makes stuffing the stockings so much more fun tomorrow.

As Papa Claus and Mommy Claus count the number of batteries in the drawer, I rub my hand over the decadent silk and lace waiting for our turn.  We know the little dumplings will be passed out in over-indulgent comas soon enough.  We also know that the Christmas Magic will soon dance from our house.  We will be left with idle threats of “believing to receive”, but know the truth hides in the presents under the tree.

Until then, a day or two at most, we will hide the tiny keys of the handcuffs, the ‘smooth as silk’ lube, and the velvety darkness of the blindfold.  We will embrace the minty magic and eyes of wonder.  We will buy more batteries for the batteries.

Holly hugs and Tinsel touches,

NN

All the presents are wrapped.  The stockings hang in anticipation.  Excitement swirls in the air.  I unpack the last few things from the suitcase as we call to an end of another “family weekend away.”  I double check the pantry for not only a complete stock pile of cookie makings, popcorn for popping, but booze for drinking.  I make the last of the list for groceries and such.  I plan to venture into the world of crazies tomorrow.

After weeks of “being good”, the final countdown begins.

My boys were asked if they were on the Nice list this year.  They looked at the odd stranger talking to them and back to me for support.  On one hand we teach our children not to talk to strangers but on the other expect them to be polite when cornered about Santa’s list during an elevator ride.  I proudly state that I think their nice out weighs their naughties.

I wish I could say the same about mine.

I think I’ve been a good girl.  I’ve tried.

I’ve made my Christmas list, checked it twice.  I’ve even written it a couple of times…

I want Candy Cane Kisses, Licks with Nibbles, slow traces with your tongue.  I want all your yummy wrapped and sealed with a kiss.

Mr. Hankey, The Christmas Poo and Peppermint Dildos:

I introduced South Park formally to my oldest child the other night.  Lullabies of Christmas Poo echoed through our heads.  We haven’t quite gotten the lyrics right, but we sure are trying.

I came across our dear sweet Mr. Hankey while I was pulling boxes from the top shelf of a closet.  He was hiding in a box of other toys I had collected over the years and stored away as the definition of this room was ever-changing. It has been toy room, Barbie room, play room, t.v. room to 3D room.

I was excited to find more Christmas stuff.  Mr. Hankey would be a perfect couch mate for our t.v. room.  What I did spy with my little eye was the candy cane, peppermint vibrator.  I rescued it from the bottom of the box and hid it under the pillows of my bed.  It was so lonely behind its packaging hoping this would be the Christmas it got to come out and play.  As I tip-toed back from my room, I tried to decide who didn’t receive a present one year.  Me?  Someone else?  Was it to be a prop in pictures?  Doesn’t matter.  I’m claiming that bad boy!!

The house is finally quiet.  The boys are all snug and nested in their beds.  The pets are all cuddled in corners of the couch.  I’m contorted to the leather gives of my seat.  Soft snores  lingers throughout the house.

I think ahead to what this week will hold.

School parties and Santa hats.  Crazy socks worn out in public.  I can already smell the breads baking for neighbors and chocolate candies ready to melt in the mouths of my co-workers.  Feelings of guilt as I drive by the gym while sipping an over-priced mocha.  Eyes filled with excitement.

Yes, I’m in wonder of the Christmas season.  I love listening to Christmas music and spending hours deciding the perfect gift for a family member or friend.  I don’t however enjoy the looks of sadness, frustration, and impatience often expressed and seen.  I don’t like being ridiculed over my beliefs or even my over indulgent lifestyle.  But, that is part of the moral soup we swim in every day.  That’s not going to stop me from “buying one more thing.”

One of the parents of my son’s best friends was telling me that he just worked 18, 10 hour days straight.  He said he was tired, cranky, and even a frustrated while clocking in day after day.  He did it willingly.  He did it so that He Could check the items off the list of his kids.  He did it so that he didn’t have to go into the new year with Christmas on the Credit Card.  When asked why he didn’t just tell the kids that ‘sorry, you won’t get anything this year?’ he said, “Why in the world would I do that?  What lesson am I teaching the kids?”

See, he didn’t see this as an over-indulgent parent act.  He didn’t see that piling presents under the tree as ruining the meaning or surmising to commercialism.   What he saw he was doing was providing a lesson to his kids that if you work hard and dig deep, you will be provided for.  He taught them that swiping the credit card was the easy way out and often causing you to be irresponsible.  And, deep down, he wanted to make his family happy.  He can’t wait to see the smiles on their faces come Christmas Day.  These are traditions he is passing along.  Parenting is hard and there are no right answers.  But, if we can provide good fundamental moral blocks, then I think they have a better chance to stand high and proud on them as adults.  Hopefully, they’ll be thankful and pass those along to new generations.

It only takes one to believe and one to achieve.

Now…

Go Deck the Halls.  Sing some fa fa fa la-lies and get your Christmas Spirit groovin!

xoxo

My heart is heavy today.  I would be amiss if I didn’t acknowledge the horrific tragedies that have happened.  For not recognizing them do not make them disappear.  As a parent, I wept at the realization that some parents would never watch their babies walk down the steps of a school bus or skip excitedly down the car-rider line with their backpacks hanging haphazardly from their shoulders.  I can not fathom not seeing the wonder in their eyes as they jabber non-stop about the lunch choices for the day or the wait for the swings at recess or the “A” on the spelling test.

My heart is heavy for the families that sit and suffer.  As they try and make sense of the nonsense.

I can’t.  I can’t find the good in this at all.  Maybe a new law or medical test or drug will be signed or developed one day, but that does little for the homes that were filled with future visions of sugar plums ready to dance in their babies’ heads.

I wiped tears from my eyes as I told my 2 boys that I loved them.  That today was a very dark day for us all, a nation.  I pray for peace and comfort.

I bought some new pantyhose today.  Sexy black stockings.  I bought a couple different pairs to experiment with my new, barely gonna cover my ass, black sequin skirt.  I slid the package of full coverage off the shelf, shook my head, placed them back on the rack, and chose the lacy topped thigh highs.  Then reason hit… the sexy thigh highs may be too risque for this evenings dinner event.  I plopped the full coverage back  into the cart and meandered on.

I couldn’t help but miss the feel of the soft satiny lining of my skirt brushing next to my bare ass or the peek of lace teasing the inside of my thigh.  I couldn’t help but miss the secret slide of fingers testing the strength of the garter clasps.

However, I got to enjoy the shredding sound of the hose as the seams were ripped apart as if unwrapping the most precious of presents.

I love sitting cuddled on the couch.

In December you would most likely find me watching one of my favorite Christmas movies.

I live by the rule: You have to Believe to Receive. And, that’s not just at holiday time either.

You have to believe you’ll receive that blow job or piece of pie.

You’ll have to believe you’ll receive that mind blowing orgasm.

To all the doubters… What’s it going to hurt to just believe? If not just a little.

xoxo

“I’ll have a tequila with my tequila.”

As the day comes to an end, I find myself agreeing.  I sure could use a tequila with a tequila.  A slice of lime and big lick of salt.  But, instead I’ll pour a nice red wine, prop my feet up and watch the dancing lights of the Christmas tree.

Our Christmas tree is my pride and joy.

It is heavy laden with ornaments.

Each ornament holds a memory, a story, or simply a feeling.

My collection has grown exponentially over the years, spilling onto other trees.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

As I sit and sip, I smile.  I see the packages wrapped neatly (well, most of them neatly) under the tree.  I wonder which of my boys snuck to the tree and rattled a few.  I find myself laughing a little because I know I have little peepers.  Moms always know.

Moms always know.

~Hug a man who has nothing, you then have given him everything~ NN

I decided I needed to just…

STOP.

I needed to stop running from room to room, making lists, adding to the lists, and criticizing or over analyzing everything I was doing.

I needed to stop finding a new project to obsess over.  I currently have three in progress.

A lot has happened this past year.  I can’t say I’ve been bored that is for sure.  There has been good and bad.  There has been laughter and tears, and the year isn’t over with yet.

Tears still spring to my eyes and slide down my cheeks when I realize I won’t hear my mom say, “Ho Ho Ho!”, on the phone this year.  Or again.  I keep replaying her voice in my head only to find  more memories hiding in there.

I look at my dog of 15 years snoring at my feet.  Can he pull out one more?

And I tell myself again…

STOP!

I’ve become the master of distraction.  But, there are only so many times I can look at my fingernails and think how bad they look.  Sitting down and fixing the problem is just too simple of a solution.  There are only so many times a person should grab tweezers and find one more eyebrow hair to pluck.

And, I know the flower arrangement looked better in the other vase on the other table.  I’ll move it again later.

I stood still on the center step of the stairs this morning and Stopped.

I work so hard everyday to get as much done as possible, to do it all.  It just leaves me with more stuff to do.  But, today, I wanted to come and hang out with you guys for a bit.  I wanted to blog.  To remind myself I CAN make the time to write instead of thinking I CAN’T find the time.  To kinda answer the questions as to where I’ve been lately.  Physically is the easy one to answer.  Mentally gives me issues some days.  Finding that balance of self and emotional stability is quite time consuming.

The Chaplain at work yesterday Stopped me.  I was busy and really didn’t have time to talk.  He said he was concerned that I never took him up on his offer for “counseling”.  I looked at him, shook my head, gave him a quick hug and reminded him I had his number.  I rushed back to my patient’s bedside and wondered, “Is there something wrong with me?”  Was I all of a sudden viewed as damaged to him?  I Stopped.  I knew the answer to that.  I felt the balance shift back into center.

I got this.

All I have to do is, Stop.  Accept the days for what they bring, offer, and challenge, but most importantly…

Stop *breathe*

and

Focus on the Good!

*Thank you all, for everything*

(and sorry this wasn’t erotic or naughty.  You can’t always get what you want.   )

A little trouble with the head.

When I say that I feel I should most definitely be discussing anal sex.  I should explain the deep breathing and steadying needed to overcome the “massive” initial pop.  Especially, if there wasn’t any prep or foreplay to proceed the, ummm, push.

But, tonight, it’s not.

Instead, I have been continuing my educational trip around the brewery world.  Tonight I stopped in Scotland again with a hearty Ale.  Belhaven.

My brother and I have been taking turns buying beers from the international…whoa that costs a lot… section of the liquor store.  We live 900 miles apart and not always have the same options.  This makes visiting fun and alcoholicky tasty. (yes, I made alcoholicky up)

He raved and raved about Belhaven.  We agreed on more robust flavors.  I haven’t yet found a taste for genuine Guiness, but I try not to make fun of those that head only for that deep black licorice pour.  I flirted with my local store clerks until they decided to restock their Belhaven brew.

I found it the other night.  I slipped into my parking spot at my store after a subtle text received, “We have what you are looking for.”  Waiting for me on the counter are four cans held together by plastic rings.  I was expecting bottles with pretty gold tops, not cans.  But, these cans had specific directions I could not ignore.  After chilling for 3 hours and promising not to dismantle the can after pouring, I dipped my ass into my chair.

I popped the top and let the draft bubble giggly to the top.  I poured it slowly into my frozen pilsner pint glass and enjoyed the faux draught beer feel in my home.  The deep colored liquid swirled into the glass.  The foam aerated nicely to the top.  A thick, rich head formed.  It stayed.

…and stayed.

It never left.  I felt like I was drinking marshmallow consistency of beer.  I didn’t care for that much.  The ale itself was very rich but heavy.  I had a very hard finishing the drink.  My brother only slightly chuckled because he knows what he’s getting in his stocking for Christmas.  The unopened cans of Belhaven.

Prologue

The exit sign flashed merely inches away.

She stumbled with anxiety and fear.  Her bravery forgotten.  Her desires forgotten.

The sounds from the room stopped her dead in her tracks.

She felt something tangible grab her and hold her in place.  She could taste the excitement swirl in her senses.  The echo of her heels hushed in the hallway as pleas from the room filled the silence.  Staying in step with the shadows, she peeked into the forbidden.

She swallowed the heat that spread throughout as she watched the naked woman bargain with the man at her feet.  Her legs spread wide with a bar at the ankles.  Her wrists secured over-head on what appeared to be a plexi-glass door on a slow spinning wheel in the middle of the floor.  Her breasts heaved against the glass, her flesh pressed mercifully.  She caught her breath as she watched Him swat her behind with a black leather paddle.  Her cheeks reddened along with the naked woman’s.

Feeling the strength leaving her knees, she turns to head to the safety of the flickering neon sign.

Exit.  Escape.

Her body crushed into the solid muscle of Boss.  She knew his name because his name tag snagged into her hair as she clumsily regained her balance.

Damn heels.

“Bring her here.”   The voice boomed from the room.  Panic made the urge to bolt toward the popping neon a top priority but there was something in His voice that calmed and reassured.   She reeked with torn emotion to see more versus forgetting she even stepped foot into this seductive club.

She stumbled into the room with a slight nudge at her back.

Her mouth went dry as her eyes focused on the couples in the circular room propped and laid upon pillows around the room in various stages and positions of intercourse.  You could smell the lust in the air.

“Remove her dress.”  He commands.

Before she could even whisper a protest, Boss presses a firm finger against her lips and slowly unzips the short red dress.  Her modest breasts bounce in freedom, bare.  The lacey thong left silhouetting her hips and rump as her protective red fabric is peeled away.  She shivers not from the cold but from the electricity that arcs throughout.

He steps onto the small circular wheel with the lady and turns her head so she can have constant viewing of the brunette in nothing but a thong and heels.

She can feel her nipples tighten at just their gaze.

Boss holds her steady.

All I’m missing is the beer.

…and you.

Xoxox

NN

What you can’t see in this picture…

Glass of wine

Candles

Jacuzzi jets

Tiny bubbles

Swirling

Releasing

Ease of tired muscles

What you can’t hear…

Soft lapping of water

Serenading,

Meditative,

Hypnotic

Music

Soft sighs

Flutter of eyelids

…simple serenity

…tickle

tease

take me away

xscape

run

hide me in the shadows

…make me your

alternate reality.

“I love to hear your breath quicken like that.”

I heard him say.

“Yes, tell me what to do.”

He pleaded next.

“Oh, you are in a naughty mood this morning.”

I felt my own cheeks flush.

“I can’t do that NOW!”

He proclaimed in a hushed yet excited voice.

I rolled my chair closer to the thin partition that seperated me from my new co-worker.  This is my first day, and I might add, is proving to be worth the transfer.  I am calmed by his deep moans into the receiver.  I close my eyes and pretend to be the one on the other end of the line.  The one teasing him and making his cock grow harder.   Oh, to have his voice echo in my ear.  I find it hard to control my own breathing.

“Aarrrggghhhhh!!!  You’re killing me!”

I hear him whimper.

What is the vixen whispering on the other line?  Is she touching herself, too?  Or is she just teasing him?

I hear him shifting in his office chair.

“Let me see if anyone is around.”

He whispers back into the receiver.

I quickly begin typing furiously on my keyboard, completely engrossed in the words appearing quickly on the screen at the same time trying to ignore the growing wetness between my legs.

With a quick push of his chair, he stands and looks around.  How he does not see me, is a mystery.

“If I am going to unzip my pants, I want you to do something for me.”

Hearing his demand, I await….

“Ok, turn on the vibrator and let me hear it….Good.  Now, let me hear you lick it and lube it like it was my cock about to stretch your pussy.”

All my doubts about her be a participating partner on this call was distinguished.  It took all my constraints not to pull my own pocket vibrator out of my purse.  It would be so easy to reach down and retrieve my ready friend….

I hear the slow Zzzzzz of his zipper.  I hear the slow rhythmic movements of his hands up and down his shaft.  My screaming clit is yelling for some attention.  Just a quick push of my button and I know my orgasm would flood.  Oh the torture!  Why did they put my desk next to his….and the phone call on the first day.

“I can hear your juices… Huh?  Yes, I am imagining your warm mouth.”

Oh, sweet jesus, this eavesdropping is killing me.  If he wants a warm mouth, then why not.

I gather my courage which is fueled by the heat between my legs.  I slowly turn the corner of his hiding place and catch a glimpse of his masculine hand pumping his glistening cock.  His shiny pre-cum lubing the way.

“Who am I thinking of?”

I stop in my steps as I hear him ask.

“Why would you think I would be thinking of anyone but you?  Ohhh…put the vib in deeper.”

I can hear that deep roar in his voice.  The growl before the explosion.  All I can see of my new co-worker is his impressive rod.  I can feel my pussy begin to drip and leave a wet and sticky trail on the inside of my thighs.

Two more steps and he would be in full view.  Oh, I can’t risk such exposure in a new office.  But, I feel him drawing me out.

One more step…

His monitor is blinking.  I recognize the blue borders of the familiar social networking site.
“Oh, yes, my dear.  Fill yourself up as if it were me…yes, I can feel you.”

“Hmmm, yes…”

With one last deep breath in, I round the final edges of the corner.  He sits smiling in his big office chair staring straight at me.

The receiver rests coldly on the base.  My familiar profile pic smiles seductively back at me.  Holding my breath, he grabs my hands and brings me to my knees.

As my waiting mouth finds his cock…filling and spreading my jaws, he whispers, “it’s nice to finally meet you, Jenny.”

Shadows.

Whether we hide in secret or shame…

they follow.

They mock.

They beckon.

They promise false hopes.

They whisper promiscuity.

They are with us when we wish to be alone…

…or yearn for your touch.

I remember a substitute teacher I had in high school one year that bonded with each student on such a unique level which still leaves me marveled.  After an extensive assignment, we all hated to see her leave. Before she left she gave each student a card where she wrote a small note telling us what she was going to remember the most about each of us.  She told me I was a Magnolia Blossom, beautiful and sweet.  I’ve never forgotten that.  Magnolia trees are still one of my favorite trees to this day, and she is still on of my favorite teachers.

The following piece is the beginning of an idea for a longer story or should it be “short”?

Being single has its advantages.

Being single has its disadvantages.

Being single in a newly renovated home, has amazing potential…

CHAPTER 1

I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles were ghost white and my jaws were ready to explode from the intensity of the clench of my teeth.  The knot in the pit of my stomach grew and inched the bile closer to escaping as each mile ticked away toward Jackson.   I hadn’t been back to Mississippi since my 21^st birthday when we partied in Biloxi, the year before Hurricane Katrina demolished my beloved gulf.  Now I’m 30 and swallowing against the acid in my stomach as I come to terms with starting a new chapter in my life.  I love a good book with twisting turns, heroes, and heroines.  I shake my head as I realize my story is lacking the heroes and heroines.  If you came across my book you’d flip the pages and toss the book on the shelf.  Who wants to read of only victims and bad guys?  Too bad life can’t be like my Kindle with a “Delete from list” option.

The shrill British voice from my GPS startled me.  “In 0.9 miles turn left onto Magnolia Ave.”  Oh, God, we’re here.  My realtor, and longtime friend, assured me I was moving to the quaintest and best available property she had, a beautiful Southern home divided into two separate rental units and newly renovated.  I told her it couldn’t be perfect, I had to live on the second floor.  She just smiled her sweet southern smile and handed me the keys.  I knew I was just being hard to get along with.  She promised me I’d be thanking her in no time.  I just rolled my eyes and left her office.

My pushy British guide barked at me again.  I let out a big huff of air this time.  I tried to ignore the beautifully lined Magnolia Ave, but the sweet fragrance of the million blooming Magnolia blossoms penetrated any bad mood I had brewing.  I wasn’t mad that Tara picked my place to live, arranged for my belongings to be shipped and unpacked, and promised to stock my fridge all from her tiny realty office on Skype with me while I was sulking my final days in California.  I just couldn’t afford to fly out and house shop.  I was just glad I had a few pay checks uncashed to make the epic drive.  I was glad to find a job.  I was glad to have Tara.  I was mad as holy hell to admit my one and only love/lover/light of my life was a “bad guy.”  My empty checking account was plenty proof I needed.  A little too late.

I chewed relentlessly on my bottom lip as I pulled into the drive-way.  The house was beautiful.  I couldn’t deny that.  Of course a huge magnolia tree with its magnificent flowers was the center piece of the yard.  Colorful crepe myrtles dotted the side of the house.  Hostas already full and lush circled the tree with their tiny purple flowers swaying in the breeze.  I was relieved to see there was a grounds-keeper.  He moved effortlessly with the electric hedge trimmers shaping the azaleas that decorated the warp-around porch.  I would have hated to see this yard if I had to wait until I could afford to hire a landscaping company to keep it up.  I felt obligated as my southern duty to hurry to the kitchen and fix ice tea or lemonade, shimmy my way into a sundress, and serve the refreshments to him from a pretty silver platter.  Ha!  My mother may had, but I’d been in California long enough to bury these Mississippi bred roots.

I gathered my bag and dug out the keys.  I stepped out of my car for the first time in years back to where it started.  I sucked in the sweet and sticky Mississippi air.  The roar of the trimmers stopped and he stood watching me under his Atlanta Braves ball cap and tipped the bill with his left hand while balancing the power tool in his right.

“Need any help, M’am?”  He asked with that notorious draw.

I stood like a lump on a log.  He was built like a house.  A brick house.  His white t-shirt clung mercilessly to every well-defined muscle it could find, wet from sweat.  Damn mosquito landed on my cheek bringing me back to the moment as I moved like a spaz to swat it away.  “No, I’m good.”  I managed to say as I turned to head to the side of the house where Tara told me was my door.

I followed the cobblestone path that led to the beautifully painted door of a sunset and a field of sunflowers.  The flower beds were full of hibiscus, lilies, black-eyed susies, and every other little flower that butterflies and hummingbirds would love.  There was a small grove of oleander trees before a half acre of pecan trees.  Nestled in between was a trellis of wisteria shading a long hammock.  So far I was going to owe Tara big time.

“What do ya think?”  His thick voice asked causing me to jump, dropping my keys fell to the ground.  I wonder how long he stood watching me before saying anything.  I had stood mesmerized by the gracious yard.  He smiled like a proud peacock over the work he took in the yard.  “It’s all so beautiful.  So different from palm trees.  I’ll sure miss my Birds of Paradise, but this will definitely do.” I said as I motioned to the flowers all around me.  “Just wait till you see the back yard.” He said as he handed me my keys before sauntering off around the back.  I stood staring at my fingertips as if I could see the heat he left as he brushed against them.

Shaking off the exchange, I stuck the key back in the lock and pushed into the house.  My door opened into a converted mud room.  The old bench had been recently re-stained.  You could still smell the lacquer.  French doors stood cracked showing the brightly sun-lit kitchen.  To the other wall a large oval mirror and table stood with a vase of fresh daisies.  A folded card with my name on it was propped next to the daisies.

“Welcome to Magnolia Manor.  I hope you find everything you need.  We’ll catch up in a couple of days.  The stairs to your floor are to the right of the bench.  Oh, the bench was just re-stained yesterday, so try not to sit on it for another day or two.    T”

I smiled and turned to head upstairs.  I heard the front door open and close.  My housemate must be home.  I’ll meet her after a nice bath and glass of wine.

…another week has come and gone.

A deep breath and a lingering look.

But I still need…

… your love.

your compassion.

Your tender kisses.

Your whispers on my neck and

lips against mine.

Touch me…

Pass me a drink

slip me an ice cube

…let’s add the smell of sex to my leather.

I think I’ve learned a new meaning of numb.  I prefer my senses dulled with the soothing of a fine wine, not moments that make your world stop.

The relationship with my mother was not picture perfect, but it was not without love.  It was filled with mutual admiration, respect, friendship, and love.  She had been my confidant, always there.

Composure.  I’m trying to find it.  I sit huddled now on an airplane just merely eight hours after receiving the news.  I try and hide the tears that escape from the strangers around.  The Godiva Chocolate and airline Merlot are of little consolation.  I’m eating and drinking it for a distraction.

My husband is waiting at home with my children for me to make arrangements.

The coroner has since left her home.

She won’t be there when I get to her house this time.

The sky is beautiful outside my window.  A few fluffy clouds, blue skies…

The only turbulence is in my heart.

I can’t over analyze.  I can’t demand answers to questions that have no answers.  I can’t beat myself up with, “you should have seen the signs.  You should have known something was wrong.  You should have said.  You should have stayed for ONE more cup of coffee…”

My eyes are burning.

My head hurts.

I’m thankful peace came in her sleep.

I’m thankful I find solace in knowing she did not suffer for days in a hospital.

I’m thankful she didn’t live her final days as an invalid in a nursing home.

I’m thankful she had hugs and kisses from grandbabies before she slept for the last time.

Through the growing pains of our lives, I’m thankful she was my mother.

…love you, Mom.

The sun felt different today.

A good different.

I drifted between sleep and semi-sleep.

My skin hungry for the heated rays.

I was careful not to touch the metal frame of my lounger.

The melodic sound of the waterfall

-the people separated from my fence, laughing.

The sun lingered and licked.

The breeze danced across my shoulders, back, thigh, calves…

before caressing my toes.

I felt the shadows of the trees inch closer, faster

-as if in warning.  Chasing me as I sought the sun.

Reminding me…

this is the final days of summer.

She may try to hide, but I’ll always find her!

That sneaky beer!  Now… come to momma!

As I sit and recharge this weekend, I wanted to pop in and wish you all a wonderful weekend. May there be one near to share a drink. Cheers!

Thank you for my friends at Tits on a Unicorn (https://www.facebook.com/TitsOnAUnicorn ) for a recent feature on their page.  I also would like to thank all you boob love’n Naughty Ones for the requests for MORE!  Here’s one from Sunday.  Enjoy!

I feel her settle on me like a warm blanket

The weight of her presence layering over me

Her whispered words wrapping around me like a ribbon of a

Lullaby

Hypnotize

My eyes heavy and hooded

Closing just to see her

Feel her

Her breath caresses

Intoxicate

One by one

I hear the words she speaks

Melodic

I breathe in deeply memorizing her perfume

Letting her seep and saturate my senses

I surrender myself

To the Seduction

To the night.

“…I’m so addicted to all the things you do.  When you go down on me between the sheets.  All the sounds you make with every breath you take.”

Addicted

Obsessed

Guilty Pleasures

Secret Pleas

Passionate Promises

Honey that Flows

Feeding Desire

Delicate Dance

Consumed

Today’s friendly reminder!!!

I’m smiling like a school girl going to her first dance. I’m hanging tonight with some of the most delicious people at the gorgeous Cosmopolitan here in Vegas.

The sun is warm, but the laughter will be smokin! It’s time to get in the shower so I can get this party started…

…after a quick disco nap, of course.

Xoxo

You know it’s a party when you wear a penis on your head, you are invited to a swingers exclusive meeting, and you grab a man’s package… just to check to see if size matters.

I’m all packed and ready to go! Seven days of debauchery and sin. (Not to mention fun and sun.) Let’s see what kind of naughty we can get into, shall we? I’ll keep you posted with the best of the best here. Many tequila tainted licks and nibbles!

Like many people I know, we struggle with accepting ourselves. I’m no different. I’ve watched my body revolt and take charge of my life. But, September 21 of last year, nine months to the date, I reclaimed my life.

The picture above is a 40 pound lighter version of myself from last September. Not only have I worked hard to lighten myself, I also feel my whole attitude is lighter.

We all judge our bodies and looks way too harsh. We force our thoughts into dark hateful places. I have to constantly remind myself to be proud of what I’ve accomplished instead of looking at that picture wondering where that 40 pounds came from, because, honestly, there are moments I can’t see the payoff. I have to learn to take a compliment for what it is and not assume that even though the words out of their mouths are full of praise that their thoughts aren’t,

“Man, she could go for another 40.”

See, there’s that dark hateful place again.

I’m proud of myself. I’ve lost my goal of 40 by 40, but I not only did it with 4 months to go, I did it before my 40th birthday bash in Las Vegas!!! I believe I have some lucky numbers!

(Above picture was taken today in the bikini I bought in March 2006 in Vegas and no photoshopping) †

Intermission

Interlude

A brief recess.

That’s all I wanted.  I hadn’t bargained the price it would cost me.  The simple hours turned into daunting days followed by unexpected weeks.  So many missed opportunities.  I just grit my teeth with a new determination that only I alone can end this satirical act.  Next time I’ll read the script…

Innocence…

The bright eyes and effortless smiles

The way nothing is questioned

Nothing is expected

The gentleness in each kiss

The strength in each hug

The warmth of the words as, “I love you” is whispered

The promise of tomorrow

The gift of today

The magic of the moment

The softness of the cheek

The honesty in the eyes

Believing

Trusting

Yours

~H~

Slide your fingers across my thighs

Find my secret there

Unlock my treasure

Make me swear…

The Delicious feel of a garter belt

Squeeze of stockings

The simple buckle teasing

The delicate straps

The strong temptations…

Seduction

Desire

Lust

Confidence

Demure

Waiting