It's official

This blog is on wordpress now. That makes me sad, but you do what you gotta do.

Problems

I've gotten several reports of people having problems commenting on this blog. Thanks for letting me know. I'm thinking of moving over to WP if I can get off my ass to do it. I used WP years ago but didn't like it so much. Times have probably changed, and it looks like the party is better over on WP lately.

PSA #1: Magic Wand

I haven’t been very good about not blogging. Well, I’ve been pretty good about not blogging, but not so good at not writing. I’ve written about a couple of things since August. One thing I wrote about I sent to a friend, the illustrious and cerebral Lady J. My original intent was simply to ask her whether, as a woman in pursuit of an all-too-elusive orgasm, she had any experience with the Hitachi Magic Wand. But in my usual way I wrote more than I intended, and in her usual way she found more meaning than I thought I put in. She has graciously allowed me to post this from her reply to me:

Thanks for sharing that with me. It really helps to get the male POV. Why not blog this? I really think other women should hear it. It’s good stuff. It could be healing for women who think that men don’t care about women. Who think that all men are assholes and don’t value the delicacy of a woman’s body. Even with all the ups and downs of being in a longterm relationship, you love your wife. That always comes through...

Well. With a reply like that, how could I not blog it?  Here’s what I had written to her:

I got River a Magic Wand a few years back because I wanted to see what all the hype was about. One woman did a video review saying “If you have a clitoris, you need one of these.” I was sold, and put my order in on Amazon.

It arrived a few days later. We were both curious. We plugged it in. That’s right, plugged it in. No batteries here. The thing’s got a powercord that plugs into the wall. Which has been a small bit limiting because our house is fairly old (100 years this year) and doesn’t have as many outlets as modern standards dictate, so we can't always use it in our first choice of locations.

We switched it through both of its settings: “high” and “holy fuck”. I’m not even sure it’s got “off”. The motor is powerful enough to cause snow on old analog broadcast TVs. (I’m dating myself there. Good thing I’m a cheap date.) I could not believe River was going to put that thing anywhere near her clitoris. The little knob I manipulate with my soft fingers in the way she showed me. The button I lave with my tongue. And here’s this industrial vibrator going to wear it down to even more of a nubbin than it already is. How could I possibly have bought this for her? I can’t believe she’s going to buzz herself with it there . . .

It worked. Oh my god it worked. River doesn’t orgasm easily. She always needs manual stimulation, maybe ten minutes worth, or more, and often that doesn’t even work. This thing got her off in under 30 seconds. I wasn’t even sure what had happened. “Did it work?” “Yes.” Damn. “But it happened so fast I almost missed it.” That’s not good. The analogy that comes to mind is taking a sightseeing tour of the Grand Canyon, from north to south in an F-18 on afterburner.

We’ve used it a couple times since. Most recently was a few days ago in the afternoon. This time it took several minutes to do the job. It seemed like it might not work. River wasn’t even sure she could orgasm lately. She’s given up before even when using the wand. But she closed her eyes and concentrated and worked with it while I watched and felt her nipples under her shirt and finally had a really long one that looked and sounded worth the wait.

That really got her going. I got to fuck her in her second one, during which I had my own non-stop “I’m not sure what just happened” orgasm, and we went on to give her several more.

Watch this space

After conferring with River, and swayed by some feedback from some of my dear readers, I've almost decided to make a couple of what I'll call Public Service Announcements here.

There. I've pounded the stake. Now I pretty much have to do it. Watch this space.

I've made up my mind

I'm tired of wasting all my precious time.

I haven't been writing. And I haven't been reading much. Turns out I like it that way.

The sex is just as good.

And my life is better.

Thanks for reading!

Sincerely,
Reed
reed.kisatchie@gmail.com

Waterpark wonderings

Well look at that. I’ve written 100 posts, but I’ve only published 95 of them, not 100 like I thought. So it looks like I gave myself an “out” to keep writing for a while. And I've been writing. Just not feeling like blogging. But today I’m going to take advantage of my wiggle room and blog a little bit.

The kids and I went to the waterpark today. I spent a lot of time checking out the various flotation devices. As in, “In the unlikely event of a water landing, your breasts will become flotation devices.” Lucky for me, I know how to swim or I’d go straight to the bottom.

But you know what got the best physical reaction out of me? (Not as good as this one, fortunately. I guess I’ve been trained out of that by sleeping with a naked woman for so long. How sad.) A trim woman with some mommy pooch and hardly anything up top. I just can’t stop looking at tiny titties. Breasts that leave something to the imagination. And my imagination can be pretty good.

Anyway. Not only was I gauging the flotative capabilites of various females, I’m pretty sure I was being checked out by one or two or three. And naturally (for me) I have to wonder why. Is it because I look like a male model? Hah. Maybe a male model of a drowned rat. Is it because I’m halfway in shape compared to most people? I can only hope. Is it because I’m some kind of spectacle? That would be ok too. But then I had this thought that maybe they’re just staring at my nipple ring. And perhaps wondering if I’d like to see theirs. Well, yes, I would, now that I imagine you asking. (I told you I had a good imagination.)

And once again I wonder, has this been going on my whole life (assuming I’m not imagining it with my good imagination)? How would my life have been different if I hadn't been so shy?

P.S. One thing’s for sure. After all that female flesh on display, I really hope we’re getting some tonight. It’s been 9 days. We haven’t had a dry spell that long since our restart 3½ years ago.

Happy 100

When River and I started fucking again in 2009 after a year and a half dry spell, I took careful notes to try to determine whether anything -- time of day, time since our last fuck, etc. -- was affecting the erectile dysfunction I was left with after getting a vasectomy five months previously. I never discovered any correlations. I had bad times and ok times (there were no longer good times) with no correlation to anything that I was aware of.

My notes eventually morphed into my first anonymous sex blog. But they also made it easy to keep track of how many times we’d fucked since what we called our “restart”. One day I announced to River, “Happy 100!” “100 fucks?” “Yeah!” River smiled and said “Here’s to the next happy 100!” And sure enough, some time later we’d racked up another 100.

I no longer keep track so I have no idea where we’re at now, nor does it matter. “Enough” is how I think about it, at least until tomorrow.

I was reminded of that happy 100 because this is the 100th post on this blog.

I started this blog to cure myself from blogging. At least from the kind of OCD blogging I used to do. I wanted to write more about the real life Reed and River, more backstory, etc. And to be more inviting to comment on.  And to have more time to be the real life Reed -- to hang our with my kids, play guitar, be a good friend, whatever it is that I do.

It’s sort of worked, and sort of hasn’t worked. I’m no longer OCD about blogging. But because of wanting to maintain the anonymity barrier for various reasons, I haven’t been as real life/backstory as I want to be. So in that respect, this blog hasn’t been successful for me, and I don’t think it’s fulfilling any needs.

I’m also finding myself wanting to blog, but not wanting to write. I look back on some of what I’ve written and wonder how I ever did it. I’ve started but not finished any number of posts, about kiddus interruptus, fantasy fulfillment, unintentional delayed gratification, dripping pussies, being on an SSRI, River’s infrequent orgasms, being on vacation, porn for women, and some hot fucks with (my) screaming orgasms and whatever else. I start them with the intent to come back to them, but I don’t.

It’s been that way with my whole life lately: wanting to do things, but lacking motivation and/or follow through.

Even this post was begun several weeks ago, and now I’m finally making myself finish it.

I’m not sure there’s going to be another happy 100 here.

To everybody who's commented, thanks!  That's what I've been in this for.  I regret that in some cases I haven't been up to returning the favor.

Fox in socks, our game is done, sir.

Thank you for a lot of fun, sir.
-- Dr Seuss, "Fox in Socks"