If your husband or boyfriend seems unusually interested in the coming Olympic Games, it’s probably just that whole guys-love-sports thing going on. Nothing to worry about.
Video: 100-meter Hurdles
Although odds are he’s not really paying all that much attention to the Table Tennis :o)
— Frenulum
My belovèd and I are off on a little vacation for a while.
We have been planning for quite some time to start the adventure off with a spanking, and after the successful experiment last time with a leather strap, she didn’t even have to ask if I was giving it room in my bag.
But I also threw in a surprise: a two-tail double tawse called The Angel Maker that I ordered from cane-iac (I have no affiliation with the store other than as a satisfied two-time customer). The implication, of course, it that it can turn even a dreadfully naughty girl into an angel of behavior; I figured it would be effective on my very good girl just as well.
She had described the simple strap as delivering “a thousand wasp stings” with every smack. The Angel Maker, she says, has no apt analogy, but packs “exponentially” more sting.
I am not in the product endorsement business nor do I know what’s good for you and yours, but it might not hurt to take a peek. Well, it might hurt one of you quite a bit :o)
— Frenulum
She came into the living room, where she knew he was waiting. She wore a simple but flattering black cocktail dress, sheer black stockings, and high spike heels. Her short brown hair was brushed to a shine, long gold earrings dangled from her lobes; her gamine’s face was lovely, her lips glossy and inviting.
“Are you ready to go right now?” he asked. Stern overtones remained in his voice, and his face was no more relaxed than hers.
“Yes.”
“Hands against the wall.”
She put her clutch purse aside, faced the wall, and bent forward, bracing herself on her arms. He lifted her dress; when its tightness no longer restrained her legs she spread them wide. Her black lace thong panties accented crimson buns above burning upper thighs.
He pulled her panties down until they stretched tautly between her beautiful legs.
He picked up the short, heavy leather strap. “I am refreshing your spanking to emphasize the topic we spoke about. I’ll be concentrating on your sit-spot, to make sure I know where your attention is for the rest of the evening.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He began to ply the strap: its sharp sounds rang loud. Crack! Crack! Crack! Every smack stung like a thousand wasps. Yelping was permitted, kicking prohibited; so she yelped and stood still.
He paused. “Three more, each side, extremely hard.” The last strokes found the tenderized junctures of thighs and bottom, with terrible precision.
“Fix your clothes,” he said, putting the strap down. He turned to the living room couch, where their 16-year-old baby-sitter sat, trembling and wide-eyed, unable to turn away. “Take good care of Jamie, please,” he said to her. “We’ll be back by midnight for sure.”
— Frenulum
The thunder was continuous; silence banished, almost hard to recall. It was as if a hundred aspiring thunder gods were competing for ascendancy, hurling their most terrible winds at each other from every corner of the sky.
Lightning, too, was not a matter of a flash here or a bolt there; rather an aurora-like shimmer of varying intensities, the brightest spots hurtling around the horizon but no place ever dim.
The clouds were a photographer’s soft-box for the lightning, so that when a backyard tree became an x-ray of a tree, it was limned against pure, bright white, intense and sky-filling, throwing each wind-whipped leaf into the sharpest imaginable relief.
There was rain as well, but hard and insistent as it was, it was pitiful against the majesty and violence of the noise and brilliance.
A good night to sit up, neglect sleep, and marvel.
— Frenulum
As I walked the long path toward the beach, young men — teens and twenties — hurried the opposite way, toward the parking lot. Some looked confused, clutching their towels and coolers and toys; they all looked determined.
When I turned the last curve and saw the beach area, the sight was familiar. On the beach proper: families with tots and toddlers. Mostly moms, a few dads. Pails and float toys, picnics and squeals of laughter and excitement. On the opposite side of the path, on the grass: bikini-clad sunbathers stretched on towels, a menu for an appreciative man. Just girls, now, the boys having fled.
The families focused toward the shore. None turned around to see the events on the grass.
It’s funny how a certain style comes to adhere to every lake. At this one, bikinis are string-sided, with bare skin showing from ankle to bra strap. Quite delightful.
I sat on a picnic bench, my back to the table, and contemplated the menu. Girls turned over from time to time to toast the other side; they tended to do so in unison per cluster, which I have always found endearing.
Then the first one approached me, walking toward the bench with an appealing twitch in her hips. “Hi,” she said, “My name is Brooke.” She reached behind her back, and untied her top. When it was free, she put it on the picnic table, leaning over me and brushing one bare breast against my cheek. She straightened up and untied the bottom of her suit. “I have been with one boyfriend, and we’ve done vaginal and oral sex,” she continued, tossing the swimsuit panties on the table. “Well… I’ve sucked him — he hasn’t done me, yet. I wish he would.” With a formal curtsey she turned and went back to her blanket.
“Hi. I’m Christie. I’m a virgin,“ said the next girl, as she stripped out of her tiny suit and tossed it over my shoulder onto the table. A cutie indeed, petite and perky, with her pussy bare just as I like.
“Hello, my name is Allison. I’ve had three lovers, and except for anal I’ve tried everything.” One girl after another followed, giving me an introduction, a sexual history, and a strip show; each returned to her spot to sun in the nude, as the bikinis piled high on the picnic table.
When they were all arrayed before me, I chose two of the virgins. Unfortunately, it’s the only way to protect against disease. Reading minds can pick out the ones who know they are carriers, but not the ones who are unaware. It would be a nice change to enjoy some experience, but I can’t risk it. The two selected girls gathered up their clothes, purses, and so on, and walked with me to the car. To get things started, I had them stop every now and then for a kiss.
As we pulled away, I released my hold on the park. Even from such a distance, the astonished screams and squeals of the naked sunbathers put a smile on my face. One of these days I think I’ll just stick around, sitting at the table full of mixed-up bikinis, and watch.
— Frenulum
(A sequel to Another Step)
“Caro, could I…”
“What?”
“No — never mind.”
“What?” Carolyn insisted.
“Well… would it be ok if, um…” Tabitha paused, blushed, swallowed. “If I — only if it’s totally ok with you — um… looked at you? Like, a little bit more carefully?”
“Look at me?” asked Carolyn, momentarily perplexed.
“At, like, your… pussy?”
Carolyn regarded her best friend for a few quiet seconds. Then, in answer, she rose to her knees, unfastened her uniform kilt, pulled it off, and dropped it on the floor by the bed, joining her panties. Watching Tabitha’s face, she stretched out on her back, and finally spread her legs apart.
On elbows and knees, Tabitha crept closer, until her head was between Carolyn's parted thighs. Carolyn felt breath, soft and warm, caressing her.
"Um. Could, um… could you, like, show me kind of, more inside?" Tabitha asked, with a tremor in her voice.
"You do it."
"Oh," said Tabitha. Carolyn’s sudden confidence — even boldness — was difficult to adapt to. With uncertain fingers she reached out, touched her best friend forever, and opened her.
“Oh god,” Tabitha whispered. “It’s… if the pictures in the textbook were good, I would have —”
“What?”
“You’re so… interesting. And pretty. Is this where…”
“I pee.”
“Yes. It’s so tiny. I can hardly see it. Caro, can I ask you something like, super lame and stupid?”
“Yes.” Carolyn put all of her reassurance into her voice.
“How big is a penis?” asked Tabitha.
“I don’t know exactly. But…” Carolyn made a circle with her fingers. “Something like this, I think.”
"Yeah but," said Tabitha. "But… I mean, I thought so too, but… you're just like…"
“That’s the virgin thing,” said Carolyn. “How it has to stretch the first time, or tear even. That’s what the first-time-hurts deal is all about.”
“Oh. Am I…”
“Just like me,” Carolyn said.
“Oh. Ok. I guess… ok, I get that.”
Tabitha looked intently at her friend, opened up in front of her eyes, prettier than a textbook and far more intimate, close, personal. A treasure.
“Can I do that to you?”
“What?” Carolyn asked, but she knew.
“The same. Make you… like you did for me… you know.”
“Please,” said Carolyn.
— Frenulum
(A sequel to Study Group)
Carolyn sat up on the bed. Tabitha lay panting, trembling, with her eyes closed; Carolyn watched her fondly, her initial shyness gone. She looked between Tabby’s wide-spread legs at the feminine flower she had just come to know so well, admiring the glistening folds of her lips and the swollen bud of her clitoris. Tabitha’s hymen fascinated her: so much a topic of hushed talk and rumor amongst the tartlets, but never confronted so clearly and boldly. It looked more robust than fragile, a more daunting barrier than the stories suggested; Carolyn wanted to touch it with her fingers as her tongue had just done.
Minutes passed until Tabitha’s eyes fluttered open. When she caught Carolyn’s gaze her face flushed deep pink. She grabbed a corner of a sheet, to pull it over her nudity, but it was caught, and eventually she stopped trying. “Thanks, Caro,” Tabby said. “I know that… I mean, it wasn’t easy, I know, to… well, help me so much.”
“I liked it,” Carolyn said simply. And mustering a last scrap of courage added, “I liked licking your pussy.” When the words were out she blushed, but her gaze held Tabitha’s eyes.
Tabitha’s face grew suddenly serious. “It’s a sin, isn’t it?” she asked. “A mortal sin — sex except with your husband, right?” She propped herself up on her elbows, paying no attention to her parted legs or wet, open pussy. “We both have to go to Confession this Saturday.”
“Won’t help,” Carolyn replied.
“Why?”
“’Cause to confess you have to be sorry,” Carolyn answered. “I’m not sorry. I don’t regret anything. I’m happy I sucked you, and I liked it, and if you let me I’ll do it again. If that’s a sin then… I don’t care.”
Tabitha bit her lip and studied her friend’s resolute expression.
She leaned forward, took Carolyn’s head in her hands. Drew her close.
They kissed.
Neither girl had given or received a serious kiss. For a few seconds, it was awkward. After a few seconds, it was normal, natural, intense, delicious, essential, vital.
When they came up for air, Tabitha said, “Um… this is… kinda… practice for having boyfriends, right?”
Carolyn kissed her again. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m… a little confused — a lot confused and not ready and — and… I don’t know. We’ll see.” Their next kiss was longer, deeper, and not at all uncertain.
— Frenulum
…when you find yourself steering for the curb cuts at street corners…
…while out on a walk.
— Frenulum
Her moans and screams and exclamations had been growing louder and less restrained, minute by minute, stroke after plunging stroke.
“Fuck me, Sir!!!” she cried, loud and clear. Since I was already doing exactly that, molto con brio, I interpreted the words as: don’t slow down, I’m so close to cumming.
But the words were distinct, her cry visceral and urgent.
A little bit later, while we were panting and cooling down, I glanced at the bedroom windows. Yup. Open.
The block party next Sunday is going to be a little bit interesting.
— Frenulum
If you were the woman at the garden party on Wednesday afternoon, with well-tanned skin, wearing white bikini panties under a light-weight white cotton sundress, and standing with full sunlight shining directly upon you like an x-ray spotlight…
Thank you very much.
— Frenulum
The mechanism of the reclining airline seat hasn’t changed since I was flying Constellations in the early 1960s. In fact, even the form-factor and feel of the push-button hasn’t changed a bit, a remarkable consistency in the face of so much technological change.
What has changed, though, is the economics of the industry. One response by the airlines has been to order cabin floor plans with the rows closer, and closer, and closer together.
What once was a means to relax and enjoy a long flight has now become nothing short of an assault on the stranger behind you. Reclining a seat is an arrogant, selfish claim of importance and precedence. You are an insufferable moron if you attempt it.
Yes, 24C, I’m talking to you and all your insensitive self-centered ignorant kind. The reason you had so much trouble is that my femurs are exactly the distance between my seat and yours. And I have those old-fashioned non-telescoping kind. Jerk.
— Frenulum
P.S. I never call moronic insensitive jerks “assholes” because I quite admire assholes. Many are pretty and all are useful. Unlike, in both respects, 24C.
(A sequel to Once begun)
The hardest part for Carolyn…
The first hardest part had been meeting Tabitha after school, tacitly agreeing to help her. She could barely make eye contact with her best friend, let alone talk with her. Just by standing together in the hallway, Carolyn had yielded so much of her privacy and innocence.
The hardest part — well, the next hardest part — had been taking her panties off in Tabitha’s bedroom. She left her kilt on, in fact all of the rest of her uniform; not that it offered any coverage, but she felt less bare. Still: spreading her legs, and knowing that Tabitha could see her… her… Carolyn knew the proper words from Biology class, but she had always just thought of it vaguely: “down there” or “my parts.” Tabitha called it her “pussy” and nearly sent Carolyn running from the room, though she had heard the word before.
The hardest part for Carolyn was spreading her legs, with Tabitha watching closely, and masturbating, the afternoon after the night she had touched herself for the first time. Knowing how closely her intimate act was being watched.
The really hardest part was forcing her eyes to look at Tabitha’s…oh god… pussy… while her friend tried to copy the motions of her fingers. It felt so invasive, far too intimate despite their long friendship. “I shouldn’t know what she looks like there,” Carolyn thought, even as her attention and her gaze grew more steady.
Tabitha tried to mimic what Carolyn did. But as Carolyn started to breathe harder, to close her eyes, to rock her head back, Tabitha said “It’s just not working. Help me.”
Carolyn drifted back into focus. “Um… ok… I — how?”
“I don’t know,” Tabitha whined.
“Here… let me… I’ll…” Carolyn sat up, abandoning her own efforts, and her kilt fell back into place to offer a scrap of modesty. She leaned forward. “Can I… touch your hand?” She looked into her friend’s eyes.
“Um. Ok,” said Tabitha, not without nervousness.
Carolyn reached out, and placed her fingers gently on top of the ones that covered her friend’s vulva. ”Let me…” she said, beginning to move Tabitha’s fingers with her own. There was, inevitably, contact between Carolyn’s hand and Tabitha’s intimate treasures, and both girls blushed fiercely — but did not stop.
After a while: “It’s better,” Tabitha said, somewhat breathless. “I think I get it.”
“Good. Keep going.”
Carolyn watched her friend for a while, discomfort almost gone. “You are so pretty,” she blurted.
Tabitha colored even more. “You mean…”
“Yeah. I never… I mean, I never even looked at mine, really.”
“Yeah. Me either.” Tabitha closed her eyes. “Thank you.” A few minutes passed. “Oh, Caro, it’s so nice, but it’s still not working!”
Carolyn was thoughtful. Eighteen hours after her first sexual experience, alone in her bedroom, it seemed far too abrupt. But. But.
“Well…” she said.
“What?”
“There’s… I mean, I don’t really know, it’s just… Something I’ve heard about.”
“What?” asked Tabitha, searching Carolyn’s face.
“Just close your eyes for a minute.”
“Why?”
“Just close them, Tabby,” Carolyn said, softly but firmly.
Tabitha was curious, but they had a long foundation of trust. She closed her eyes and sank back against the pillows. Carolyn leaned closer.
New to the art, Carolyn had to learn as she went along But her friend’s strange taste became familiar quickly, and soon her tongue was dancing on Tabitha’s sensitive clit.
“Oh… oh… don’t stop… don’t stop… oh my… oh…”
“Mmmmmm”
“Oh Carolyn what are you doing to me?!?!?!? Oh — Oh Carolyn — it… it’s WORKING!!!”
“Mmmmmmmmmmmm”
“Oh oh OH OH AaaaaaahhhAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaah!!!”
“Mmmhmm.” Carolyn raised her head. “It’s like that,” she said, and licked her lips.
— Frenulum
(A sequel to Beginning)
Carolyn had no sooner been dropped off at school than she was accosted by her dear friend Tabitha, who grabbed her by the arm and pulled her far away from the crowd of arriving schoolgirls.
“So,” said Tabitha sotto voce. “Did you… you know?”
“Did I what?” Carolyn replied.
“After Mr. C. said it wasn’t wrong —”
Carolyn caught on, and her face flushed pink. “Tabby! You can’t ask stuff like that! Oh my god! That’s so private.”Tabitha grinned. “You did try it.” Her friend’s deepening blush confirmed the conclusion. Tabitha glanced around once more to make sure they had privacy.
“Did it… work?”
“What do —”
“You know… climax.” Tabitha whispered.
Carolyn paused for a beat before nodding her head, admitting all.
“Was it as good as people say?”
“Oh, Tabby. It’s like… like nothing else at all. Wonderful and intense and… it rushes through you, it…” She trailed off, remembering dreamily. Then: “You never…”
It was Tabitha’s turn to blush. “I tried last night, too. And… it was nice, but it didn’t… work. I gotta know what it feels like. So, you need to help me.”
“What?” gasped Carolyn.
“Come home with me after school, and show me how. You could maybe do it and I can watch you and copy. Or… maybe you could do it for me once.”
“F-f-f-for you?” stammered Carolyn.
“Yeah, like, your fingers, on my —
The morning bell interrupted. “Think about it!” called Tabitha as she ran for the door. “See you in Bio!” Then, from a distance: “I helped you with math homework. You can help me with Biology!”
Think about it? Carolyn though of nothing else. Until the day’s closing bell sounded.
— Frenulum
Carolyn finished her homework, said goodnight to her parents, and headed upstairs. She had been quiet and thoughtful all evening, but nobody had remarked on it.
She washed up, brushed her teeth, went into her bedroom, and closed the door. Slowly, distracted, she took off her shoes, socks, blouse, bra, and skirt. She got a nightie from the dresser and wiggled into it.
Earlier that day in Biology class, during a lesson on reproduction, her friend Ashley — not nearly as shy as Carolyn — had asked “Is it wrong to touch yourself?” At which many girls blushed or hid their faces, Carolyn included. But their teacher, Mr. Curtis, had explained that it was normal and natural and healthy, and even beneficial in certain ways. Carolyn had learned over the years to trust him.
With a little shiver, she reached under her nightie and slipped her panties off. She climbed into bed, and turned off the light.
“Natural and healthy,” Carolyn whispered softly. Then, under the covers, she pulled her nightie up to her waist, and began to learn about herself.
It was so good.
— Frenulum
