i wait for him to finish his shower, steam escaping into our bedroom like tropical mist, reminding me how cold it is. i am calm and breathing deeply. i feel self conscious in my jammie pants and sweat shirt, maybe i should change into lingerie. the water stops and large droplets fall from the faucet, announcing the end of his shower. several steps and he is there. using the towel to ruffle dry his short chop of hair, he dresses, even though i plan to undress him several minutes later.

throwing the heavy comforter aside, he cozies in beside me. kiss of lips, kisses on neck, sucking of breath, escaped sighs, touches of tongue; the dance has begun. clothes disappear and damp flesh presses to flesh. from foreplay to hard and fast. loving long, greedy and hard. i cry out and melt. he collapses. we linger.




by *Miss Theresa*

Yes. I am going to talk about it. I’m going to talk about the infamous “69”.  I don’t remember when I first heard about 69- it was probably in middle school, but I do remember whoever was telling me, took great pains to explain that the “6” was one person and the “9” was another. That was all fine and good, people being numbers and all, but I didn’t understand why people were giggling about it. I wasn’t very good in math, and failed Algebra once and dropped Geometry, so what the hell did I know? X=Y after all.

Time passed, and I was now in high school, and by then I had lost my virginity.  Sex became a little more than just “doing it” and sort of actually almost started to feel good (and the women out there know what I mean.)  High school sex is more about the guy getting off and the girl just being in dreamylove with this boy they are letting poke at them for 10 minutes.  My (loser) boyfriend at the time was talking about 69 and I remember KNOWING that the “6” and “9” were people.  I felt IN on this dirty little secret!  The numbers are PEOPLE!!!! I yelled to myself in a sexually SOYLENT GREEN type of way.  But, what these peoplenumbers were actually doing was still very much a mystery. Eventually my boyfriend finally let me in on it, and before I could really figure things out, he initiated it.  Welp.   He demonstrated in the “best” way possible (for an inexperienced teen for had NEVER actually done anything but missionary, of course) – and we awkwardly began the dance that is 69.

I remember thinking that the commencement of the aforementioned position was beyond awkward, unceremoniously crawling up on each other, and bony knees jabbing ribs and feeling stupid.  I felt weird and claustrophobic, and of course, only being a new young slut at that time was still self conscious about, well, you know, letting a boy *whispers* (put his mouth down there) and then, to add nasty insult to filthy injury- he actually put his “stuff” near my mouth, and then, EXPECTED me to you know, give him, you know! I mean, REALLY!  Ghastly!

And this was what the fuss was about? All of this awkward discomfort? I remember it was about three minutes before I decided it was the dumbest thing ever, so, he more than likely shot his load someplace I didn’t want, and that was the end of 69 for awhile.  INTO the “NOT-MY- THING” CABINET WITH YOU, SIXTY-NINE!

69 was whispered about and giggled over all through my college years.  Occasionally I was lured into participating in it again, assuming that since my lovers were getting more skilled, that 69 would finally be what everyone was raving about… because… you know, “yer getting head while yer giving it- what could be better?”  Welp, I’ll tell you what’s better than some idiot making you “soixante-neuf.”  Anything.  Anything is better.  Gardening, going to the library, embroidery, clogging.  ANYTHING is better than the ol’ 69, especially with a boy that until that moment had only seen it in HUSTLER or heard other fakers bragging about it being the END ALL of SEXUAL EXPERIENCE.  It was all so scandalous, and SO taboo, it HAD to be great. I mean, “dude! She’s blowin’ you while you got yer mouth on her. It’s aweeeesome.”

Well, it wasn’t.

More time passed, and my disillusion grew.  I still heard so much fuss over 69 and finally figured that maybe I was the weird one; that clearly I found, dated and screwed every single lousy lover in the city of Pittsburgh.  I started to resent 69, as if it was some rare pearl that I would never obtain.  People talked tough about the ol’ “dinner-beneath-the-bridge” and I just felt unwelcome at that party, so it just became one more thing I never understood, like chess, cars or computers.

I hit my sexual peak, and incidentally found myself divorced and on the market.  This lead to a whole lot of interesting-ness, and my old foe- the “double header” was back in my playin’ field.  I had heard endless giggling, and so much big talk from my female friends, that I KNEW, I was missing out.  Again, giving AND getting?  Shut the front door!  You know it’s good girl!

Now, I had come a long way (no pun intended) from that stupid little wannabe slut messing around with stupid inexperienced boys in basements and cars, and one of my first established SEX RULES was that “I NEVER PLAY EVEN-STEVENS”- which translates to- just because I’m doing you, doesn’t necessarily mean you need to do me, and vice versa.  Sometimes it’s fun to focus on one partner, other times it’s all in (no pun.)  Because of my “TIT-ISN’T-NECESSARY-FOR-TAT” rule, I felt that 69 was not aiding to my cause of sexual independence.  I could be a woman and get mine, without giving, and that was pretty empowering.  This pretty much left 69 in the darkest corner of my closet along with the KAMA SUTRA book which I never understood and that horrible rabbit vibrator thing- that hurt a lot more than it pleasured.

In my thirties sex was pretty much in EVERY CONVERSATION EVERYWHERE and was totally unavoidable, so I had to define myself pretty quickly, picking and choosing from the sexual buffet BEFORE it came up.  My turn on’s and off’s, my do’s and don’t’s, condom preference, gender preference, past partner resume, what have you.

Again, lots of talk from lots of ladies- and I even fell prey to the whole, “oh yeah, I totally get off blowin’ a guy thing”– which, when honest, really means, “I really just want him to like me.”  Eventually I admitted this to myself, and although I like giving head to guys, honestly, it’s not within my TOP FIVE on my ol’ sex menu. *shrug*

More and more time went by and I finally got to the point where I am now- which is “I’m almost 40 and I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about me” (which, between you and me and everyone over there, is a REALLY nice place to be) and do you know what I’ve found?  I am NOT alone in the “I just don’t get the whole 69 thing” category.  In fact, I have YET to meet someone who honestly and I mean HONESTLY enjoys the whole “flip flop double marriage” thing.  Now, I know what you are going to say, “But *Miss Theresa* I LURRRVE 69!” of course you do, honey. We all do in the sense that it’s sex.  But I’d bet with the right partner, you’d enjoy fucking in mud too, BUT you actually love a bunch of other positions more.

After all of the hype, I finally found someone that I enjoyed 69 with.  I did.  And they didn’t kneel on my hair, or make me feel like I was suffocating, or make me do anything with their ass, or bruise my lungs or kick me in the face, or say “I’m too heavy” or stop every 30 seconds saying “are you ok?”  but the reason it was different, was because I would do anything for this person, and so “loop de loop” was as good as anything that I could have done or have gotten done at that time.  When it happened it wasn’t as if I shattered the SEX CEILING or unlocked the mysteries of pleasure or anything like that.  It was what it was, our mouths on each other, giving and getting at the same time.  It was nice.  And it was good.  But it wasn’t a fistbump at the gym or a check mark on my POSITIONS I HAVE TO TRY card.  And it certainly wasn’t worth decades of secret snickering, giggling or pedestal-sitting either.  Now PEDASTAL SITTING… there’s a position.

So I’ve blown the lid off yet another taboo.  And I know, I know, that’s what she said, however, I spent a long time worried that I wasn’t in on the secret, and I find out 30 years later, I wasn’t really missing out.  Mystery Solved.  Now, I’m expecting a few angry emails from women still claiming to LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE giving blowjobs.  No worries, ladies.  Your secret is still safe with me.


by *Miss Theresa*

i wanted it, so badly, but was still not aggressive enough to just take her. i have to hint around here and there; touching and teasing, being stupid and unnecessarily shy. i finally saw my chance to get in there for a kiss. *sigh* those kisses planted on superbly soft lips. thin, perfect, almost absent lips… smooth as the lips of her pussy…. perfectly sensual, gentle. Sigh

i love to kiss her. usually it’s a struggle between wanting to receive and give. we get into rhythms and just kiss and kiss and kiss until i cant breathe, until i don’t want to breathe anything but her. breathe everything into her. so we kissed and she kisses and i licked and i bit. she put her mouth to my neck and she sucked my skin. i breathed her kisses and her words and she swallowed my sighs and we loved and melted into each other.

there is a power struggle, but we give over easy, knowing the prize is full climax and explosion of sensation, and no one really loses. she starts to lick my aching nipples, nipples desperate to be held in her teeth. her mouth moves along my body, to places that need to be explored…. and bit, and marked and bruised by her mouth and lovingly violated with her teeth. her hands rest in places that set my cunt to fire. her teeth do things that make me melt into puddles. her sighs make me want to cum the moment the sound escapes those delicious lips. my own sighs seem detached and far away….

her sensuality makes my body writhe with an exquisiteness that makes me feel foreign and strange. she uses no force but once her arm comes up and around my thigh to lock me in place, her mouth can go directly to where we both want it to be.

an instant of white hot liquid lights up my clit, and radiates to all parts. my body shook, causing my hand to grasp her shortshort hair and rock her mouth further into my cunt and her mouth was waiting waiting waiting to put her tongue back to my cunt, but instead her whole mouth enveloped my clit and warmth spreads through my vulva like a hot coals crackling under a blanket, fighting to catch and burst into flame. gods…. fantastic.


by *Miss Theresa*

It is also helpful to realize that this very body that we have, that’s sitting right here right now…
with its aches and its pleasures…
is exactly what we need to be fully human, fully awake, fully alive.
-Pema Chodron

they sat on the porch together, in silence, leaves rustling all around.
she focused on a leaf that fell from one of the tallest trees in front of them, and watched as it fell slowly, gracefully to the ground.

the trees were the richest of reds and the color of juicy pears. she took her then, right there in the daylight. sun streamed through her hair making her squint as she focused on a place on her luscious neck. freckles and fine blonde hair. wispy winds blew across their ears as a delicious warm patch of saliva and sweat appeared at the base of her lover’s neck. her breasts were quickly freed with a jerk of her shirt over her head. the sun played across those breasts as more winds gusted about, dimpling and puckering her playfully soft and supple skin.

leaves gusted about, crackling and whooshing about their feet, trying to get a glimpse of their lovemaking, trying to become part of their delicious autumn memories. she wished then for an apple, moist and crunchy, to feed to the one she cherished. to tempt her, to tease her aching lips, to lure her to close her eyes, offering a bite but then kissing her mouth instead. but with no apple, her lips, soft as the sunshine beating down on their necks, would be her temptation, her treat; a delicious reward for the something they shared.

“it has never been like this with anyone before. i know this sounds cliche, whatever. think what you want, but i mean it. this is new.”

i did not think that i could ever be satisfied by just one.
all of the girls that i had been with until her- always left me wanting more. feeling forever still unsatisfied… wanting more than anything to come with someone; it just never was there. with other lovers i might as well have just gotten myself off for as nothing as our lovemaking was.

my first impression of her as she went down on me was that she indeed knew what she was doing and i would have done anything for her not to stop. ever.
she was not out to impress me, or get me off as quickly as possible, or do anything more than what she was doing… she definitely enjoyed it and seemed content lapping my cunt all night.

the first time we screwed was actually our first night together and it was veryvery hot because we were strangers and we were drunk and we were horny from dancing…..
we were making out fabulously, her always trying to control me through my mouth- taking control with her tongue, with her lips always just slightly more forceful than mine- always an erotic struggle- a dangerous but easily fun-filling game to play.

there was not as much kissing of my breasts or neck or throat like i was used to.. but to be honest, i was more focused on getting her tongue in my pussy. she touched my crotch and started manipulating me skillfully and effortlessly- seeming to enjoy her vantage point from down below as i squirmed and moaned. i was already close to coming and i started to grow disappointed that our first time would be her just fingerfucking me. i was getting closer to coming when she just stopped….

just stopped…. and i let out a whimper of disappointment… and she said mercilessly, “sucks, dont it” and laughed. i agreed, but it was obvious that she had an agenda- one that i was willing to accomodate. i would have done anything at that moment for her to tongue my slit. i felt what she could do with her fingers and knew her tongue would have much more to say to my shuddering body. i came twice and i remember her resting her mouth on my thigh- highly erotic- pornstar type stuff- looking up at me, kissing me still, flicking her tongue over my moist wet folds. and in the most fucking seductive voice i have ever heard, “You want more?”

i was riding the ripples of coming down and i did not want to ruin it. i fell blissfully asleep- but only after she kissed me hard on the mouth- slightly sucking the breath from me.

my headboard.

by Brenna Campbell

she took to fucking me, her arms bracing her up. i always loved the way her shoulders powerfully moved, showing me that she could keep control of both our bodies as she fucked me senseless. she moved on me and moved on me as she watched my fingers, two of them now rubbing my hard clit. all was lost as i built up my rhythm and it combined with hers. making sweet love in fairytale land was done. she was fucking me now and fucking me hard. the bed was moving under us, and the sound of the headboard striking the wall always made me hornier. it indicated that fun and games and playing was over…. i was being fucked and i was going to be fucked until i came. she watched my fingers circle my clit, although she seemed to be having trouble focusing as she was lost in the insistent burning in her own cunt.

she fucked me, and the headboards banged out our fucking. fuck, fuck, fuck. bang, bang, bang. my cunt clenched, clenched clenched. and the toy hit that spot over and over and over. i watched her watch me and her eyes squeezed shut with every thrust of her. her body was positioned so that every thrust of her moved her pussy onto my body, causing her to gasp every time our bodies hit. the headboard clunked out our passion and the banging got faster and harder. her pussy struck my body making her move the toy faster in my cunt. she twisted and plunged it in and out, until all i could feel was pleasure wasnt sure if it was in or out.
i had reached that point on the hill where i was ready to come, wanted to come and i knew she was there too. it was all fucking now. hard and fast. all pleasure. all fucking. all all all. her body moved, her pussy struck, the vibrator stretched my cunt, the toy hit, my fingers stroked, my clit buzzed, my mouth bit, her luscious breasts moved over my face, my tongue rolled on her nipples. we yelled out. “OH FUCK OH FUCK OH MY FUCK!”
“oh oh OHH!”
The headboard banged and banged and banged and she kept on fucking me
she kept on fucking me
her pussy collided onto my body
my pussy was stretched
my clit was so hard
i was ready
she was ready
the headboard hit faster
my whole mouth was at her breast, rolling my tongue over her nipple
the headboard hit harder and harder
her body fucked
my body fucked
my fingers rubbed over and over the spot
my clit throbbed and felt her body hit onto mine
i screamed out
my head tilted back on the pillow
her mouth went to my nipple and
her body moved hard
my clit was hard
her clit rubbed hard
her body swallowed my body swallowed her clit my clit to her body moved the bed moved the headboard struck
her mouth never left my body
my mouth found her body time stopped and it happened
we came together
in a fountain of explosive fireworks of ice and passion and lust and her body and my body and we came together and the room smelled of fucking and the candles flickered and my cunt clenched and the toy stayed in my cunt and her cunt clenched and the butterflies started circling my clit was pulsing and pulsing and the headboard stopped and i was moist and flowing and my cunt felt, just felt like i had come and exploded and i wanted to lick her pussy and feel her move her fingers in and out and the vibrator moved out as my fingers stopped and her tongue licked my nipple and her body stopped and i moved my hand to her ass and squeezed fingers that were juicy and sticky from my cum and her cum was on me and it was good.
we breathed together
hard and fast
but slowing
slowly, together.
she fell onto me, her shoulders winning the good battle of my body and her body and the headboard and the wall.


by Brenna Campbell

My whole body flushes when I begin to make love to you, or rather, when I let you make love to me. I want you in me. You roll me onto my side and you are still in me and you put my leg onto your shoulder. Your touch sends sparks to my core. Your gaze never breaks, adding more sparks, conducting raw energy, passion to my solar plexus. Euphoria. I see your face in the flickering candlelight. I can see, feel, all of your emotions, the awesome depths, and the look of sheer magnificent pleasure as you kiss my ankle, closing your eyes momentarily.

Yes, I was far away at times. Yes, I was thinking about her and thinking about being with her. But I was ever curious as to what this one boy was up to. Always wanting to call him and make him laugh, or blush, or really anything that would make him think of me. Thinking how lucky I was to be able to have these people in my life, but also thinking about the other “someone’s” in my life that remain without titles.

Was thinking particularly about a man with which I had shared an incredible relationship with, despite what it felt like, despite how it appeared. A man who knew all of this without either of us having to say. A man, who, as the cliché goes, knew me better than he knew himself; a person that endlessly amazed and surprised me, when few others were to ever benefit from his true self.

I experience that you can take a person out of a situation, but you can not take away chemistry, or extraordinary limitless bonds. You can never take away the feeling of absolute freedom in a relationship, of true selfless love.

The moans. Oh god. How I love to hear your shuddering moan. Like when I lick you from throat to chin. Your breathing is heavier, as my own slows. I look into those eyes and sink. Sink into those eyes that make me feel so real. So complete. You enter me. You slide easily, effortlessly, dreamlike, because I am so ready for the pleasure I feel from you biting me. Caressing my neck is a dream, all warm and rich, muted softsoft amber.

I float through our lovemaking. Kissing, always kissing. Feeling your lips like fluttering butterfly wings, powdered tips pressing energy and passing life from one connected thing to the other.

My trembling body is clammy, alight with both flame and ice, all the while zinging with the low hum of electricity. My arms and legs are now tingling and fluttering. The hairs on the back of my neck add to the already heightened sense of me. It as though every particle of my body is trying to make itself known.

I have been repeatedly blessed to find people that are able to love me without wanting in return. Their love endlessly flows, quenching my craggy places, dryhard and cracked places that I never thought could be healed from baneful times long and not so long ago. These admirers do not try and change me. They don’t want to stick me somewhere that I don’t belong. I have many people in my life to be grateful for, and endless gratitude and happiness. True love for the sake of true love and joy. Of not wanting anything in return. Of wanting nothing more than to make that person feel as happy as you do. No hokey schmaltz. No bullshit. No games. No stress and without limits. Fulfilling relationships that help me discover more about myself than I think possible… I evolve in these relationships. I do not change myself, instead my life changes and I feel compelled to do nothing but enjoy this person, this situation.