Saturday, October 8, 2011

Scooting further into Wannabe-Cougar Status: LGB’s Kryptonite

What is it about teenage boys that makes them so dangerous to me? Most of the time, I make my way through life just fine, thank you very much! But every once in a while I am like a deer in headlights… and the car speeding towards me is a super-hot young thing and for some reason I just can’t damn tear myself away.

I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that even after all these years I am still enthralled with the beauty that is my husband. I think he’s gorgeous, and he makes my heart go pittypattypat all aflutter stutter with his super-long lovely lashes, caramel honey eyes, luscious lips, smooth skin, perfectly maintained and manicured nails, and svelte body. He’s always been oh, I dunno… 60-100lbs smaller than me from the time I’ve known him. Sometimes more, sometimes less, and it drives me absolutely insane with lust. I have no idea why, but it does. He has a sense of style that makes me trust his judgment even more than my own at times. He is stunning, and intelligent, and an intellectual, and passionate about the things he cares about in a way that makes me melt. He is a plethora of knowledge and more than capable of carrying on a conversation with others on a slew of topics, and these are all things that drive me insane with lust if other men have them as well.

So how does all that relate to younger or even teenie bopper hotties? Well, I have this almost fetish-like lust for the perpetually playful as well. Many men tend to lose that with age, and they become hardened and jaded. They also become less curious about the world at large, and I love learning things and can’t ever imagine getting to a point where I no longer wish to discover what else there is to know.

But the main reason I love young guys: long hair and skinny jeans. OH. My. GOD. Now, my hubbykins would never be caught dead in those skinny jeans, LOL. But sometimes he does get to grow his hair out ‘til it gets a bit shaggy and I *love* it. And… although I think most men now might’ve been comfy wearing skinny jeans in the 80s, they totally won’t rock them now. Young guys don’t seem to mind one bit. I like those that don’t rock the skinny jeans too LOL. Emo/scene/goth/industrial/punk/whatever=all good with me. I would say urban, but sagging below the ass makes my skin boil in a NOT so good way. It pisses me off and usually comes with a disgustingly disrespectful attitude. Sorry for the generalization/stereotype but I have yet to be impressed.

The only thing that continues to bother me as I move further into my Wannabe-Cougar Status is that a lot of times, there is an uncertainty, or an insecurity, on the young guy’s part. He isn’t really sure that he actually LIKES( bigger girls, black girls, married girls, older girls, moms, teachers, fill in the blank with your fantasy here) whatever, but wants to try it out. He doesn’t really know if he CAN have sex with another man in the room. He can’t say for certain whether or not he’s able to commit to anything one way or another unless he and I can get together alone first. UGH. So annoying! And so sad.  Still, I want to bite them so badly. They’re scrumptious!
^.^;

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Post-fuck-Bliss!


I am feeling languid... sleepy... unable to focus. The hubby says that what happened last night I fully brought upon myself, but I beg to differ. I agree that we both teased each other throughout the day with sexual banter, texting, images.... but I couldn't even hold myself upright when we were done, much less move! How on earth is that my fault? How could I have possibly done that to myself? LOL.

I want to curl up in bed the rest of the day eating sweet goodies and reading. I don't want to be up. I don't want to do laundry. I don't want to cook or clean up anything. I just want to snuggle up with a book and something yummy and snooze between chapters as the day slips away, feeling the remnants of the deliciousness of what happened last night.

My question to you, dear readers if you're out there, is this:
When having sexual escapades, do we bring it upon ourselves if we find that we are completely unable to function due to total satisfaction & bliss afterward? LOL. Do we have only ourselves to blame if our partners give us exactly what we want by fucking us relentlessly, shamelessly, wantonly until we cum all over themselves and ourselves, being totally depleted once we're through?

It is so delicious... but jeez, I don't want to do anything today... and it's fast approaching noon! :P