Tag Archives: Valentine’s Day

I miss telephone booths.

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Oh, darling web dwellers. It’s the day after Valentine’s Day. The day of, “What did that mean?” and “Look at my ring.” The day of, “Shoulda Woulda Coulda,” and “Let’s take a cab; I’m too sore to walk.” Whichever kind of day it is for y’all, I raise my Diet Coke to you in salute. We made it through another Valentine’s Day, and I sort of got laid. Almost.

You know who I'm talking about.

Wait? What?! No shit. I made you wait almost a whole paragraph before dropping that one on you, didn’t I? Yeah, I’m a bitch like that. I could write a few more lines of drivel before getting to the good stuff, but you know, then it would be all built up and nothing I said would sound awesome enough to merit the long buildup. See what I did there? I did it anyway. That’s what y’all get for overloading social media with pictures of your damn flowers yesterday, bitches.

Anyway, so as I wrote yesterday, my new BFF the FedEx man dropped off a box ‘o dirty sexies on my doorstep yesterday and I had some new toys to try out. Ladies, if you don’t own any sex toys, you are fucking missing out. Vibrators, dildos, and their many, many XXX brethren are not only outstanding for solo relaxation activities, but they also enhance couples’ activities too. Unless your particular brand of guy is needy and easily intimidated, in which case, what the fuck are you doing with him?

Plus, if you’re tormented by occasional insomnia like me but hate taking drugs to sleep and can’t drink enough hard alcohol to make you sleepy without first vomiting at length, I gotta tell ya, masturbation is the best fucking sleep aid out there. If you’re lucky enough to be able to get from A to OOOOooooo without any mechanical assistance, it’s actually free, and I hate you. If you’re like me and can only get from A to GeeeeeeThatCouldBeBetter without some batteries or a partner, then fine, it costs a little money, but damn, y’all. I’ll spend $50 on a new vibrator over the same amount in sleeping pills or liquor any day of the year. Any day.

So last weekend I told Northman my new toys were coming this Tuesday and we made a date to break them in last night. Before we got down to business, we chatted for easily an hour about life, family, minions, work, and friends. We showed one another what our minions made us for Valentine’s Day and discussed the merits of foam-sticker-based art projects with regard to both cuteness and longevity. And yes, we talked about the blog.

Web dwellers, Northman is fascinated by you. He loves being my writing muse (thank goodness) and I’m grateful he doesn’t mind being blog fodder. But he finds it fascinating when I tell him which articles are well received and which aren’t, which ones are shared the most via social media and which are largely ignored. And he is absolutely stunned that what I call “his” posts are by far the most popular. And therein lies exactly what I adore about Northman. He is unassuming with a self-deprecating humor and modesty I adore, all while being so insanely sexy that I am often rendered speechless (or at least incapable of comprehensible speech) at the sight of his naked body, and that’s quite something for me.

I wonder how many vibrators are in the average FedEx truck daily.

So last night, not because it was Valentine’s Day, but because it was FedEx Delivered My Toys Day, I had phenomenal Skype sex with Northman. He wanted me to um … how to put this one … give an oral report on the methods of stimulation I’d use on him if we were within licking distance, and with my recently acquired visual aids, I did. So, I wasn’t speechless, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to speak. Despite my inability to say anything dirty, or anything at all, he liked it. A lot. And he even gave me an extra credit point if I could demonstrate an ability to do different activities with each of my hands at once. This involved some contortion and further rendered me incapable of coherent speech, but damn if it didn’t push him over the edge, which I just fucking love to watch. Of course, he then reciprocated. I’d say his presentation was more of an oral report designed to facilitate a demonstration of how earthquakes can be followed by multiple aftershocks, and that sometimes the aftershocks are as powerful as the originating earthquake itself. In short, I thought my fucking head was going to spin around. And as if that weren’t good enough, the look on his face, watching me endure the last of those aftershocks, well, being satisfied is great. But being smug and satisfied is way better.

If Lego® Jesus had feet, he'd wear Birks.

So, that was my non-Valentine’s-Day “date.” And it was great. But as I type this for you, I’m thinking, not about Quinn, who was in tip top form last nightsweet Jesus in Birks was he in top form — nor about how Northman himself stripped down to nothing but his ridiculously lick-able tattoos and a necklace, but about Northman’s questions regarding the blog. He wanted to know what y’all ask me. What you wonder about. Who you web dwellers are and what you like or think or say about all the craziness that is my life here on the blog. Because that’s him. That’s Northman. He’s inquisitive and involved in my life. And as much as I may occasionally portray him here as little more than a virtual sex toy, he is a man. And despite some web claims to the contrary, yes, a real, not-made-up, not-even-exaggerated-upon, actual man. He’s a truly wonderful man I completely adore and have for ages, and not just because I cannot possibly be within three counties of him without finding the closest semi-private spot to fuck him. No. I adore him because he’s always quick to laughter and listens instead of waiting to speak. I adore him because he’s a devoted father, my dear friend, a wholly decent person, my favorite muse, and because I can’t be within three counties of him without fucking him in any private space larger than a telephone booth. I miss telephone booths. Such potential. But I digress. So this one’s for Northman. He wants to know about you, web dwellers. So have at it, please. Email, Facebook, comment, go nuts. Northman is listening.

Skype Sex 101: A Valentine’s Day Gift From The Sexy Mom

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Yes, I know we could have used Gmail video chat or Facetime if Skype weren’t around. It’s hyperbole. Deal.

I need to send flowers to whomever owns Skype. Mr. Skype, or Ms. Skype, whoever you are, I fucking love you. Without you, I wouldn’t have had absolutely ridiculous Skype sex with Northman the other night, and that, web dwellers, would have been a serious tragedy.

I never really know when a chat with Northman is going to turn from a text conversation in which he uses multiple pop culture references I’m not cool enough, or perhaps adolescent enough, to know offhand (“I’m totally fragged. You grok?”) into one that threatens to fog up my phone screen. My girlfriend, Penny, asks me about this all the time: “How does that even happen?!?! How do you go from saying hi via text to watching him do, you know, THAT, on your laptop? Holy mackeroley.” And honestly, I never really know how to answer her. First, I have to stop laughing, and that takes a while. And second, and more to the point, it’s because it just kind of happens. It’s the old, “One thing led to another….” scenario. So, I avoid the question by telling her she should try it with her husband some time, and then she avoids that conversation by choking on her French fries.

Ooooooh, yeah.

But now a few girlfriends and readers have asked how this whole cyber sex thing works, which makes me think it’s time for a Public Service Announcement, Sexy Mom Style: Watching your partner get off while online is hot. Lava hot. Green salsa and those little red things in Chinese food hot.

If you haven’t tried it, well, here’s your Valentine’s Day gift from me, web dwellers: A lesson in Skype sex. Give this a shot. Your partner will love it (or at least really appreciate the effort, which is still highly likely to get you laid)…unless you pop up on his (or her!) computer screen when his/her/their boss (or, possibly worse, assistant) is in the room. Then s/he may get fired and/or sued for sexual harassment, so, you know, don’t just jump in with both tits. Balls. Feet. Whatever.

Step 1: Sexting

As for Northman and me, these convos all start out the same way: we’re texting to catch up and see what the other has going on, which I love, because, unfuckingbelievable sexual tension aside, we are really good friends, and we actually give a shit about one another. Sometimes, we just text for a while and go on with our separate evenings. True, we might just be catching up, but there’s always some flirting there because, after all, this is Northman we’re talking about, and I’ve never, in my entire life, met a man with a more active sex drive (Taking a moment to praise Mr. Coffee for Northman. Seriously). Other times, we’re sexting, which is fantabulous, but again, that doesn’t mean we’ll end up doing the dance with no pants via Skype. It might just be a sexy little text-a-text for a few minutes and that’s it.

Thank you thank you thank you for Northman and the crazy dirty shit that comes out of his mouth.

If you haven’t sexted with your partner, think of it as passing really naughty notes. My favorite sexts with Northman aren’t necessarily the lengthiest. Although his sext stories are typically pretty damn awesome. No, sometimes the best sexting just happens out of the blue when you actually say (type) the dirty thoughts that pop into your head.

Northman: Whatcha up to?

Me: Just got out of the shower. Love the feeling of silky smooth legs rubbed down with strawberry lotion.

Northman: Me too. Esp. if they’re wrapped around my neck.

Me: That can be arranged.

See, that’s a little mini sexting. And it’s awesome. But sometimes it progresses into a sexting story, as was the case that day:

Not sure what to say? Text an image with a little, "Maybe tonight?" It'll get the point across just fine.

Northman: I untwine your legs from my neck and replace my tongue with my fingers while I kiss my way up your body to your neck, your lips. Our tongues tangle in a deep kiss as I slide into you slowly. Inch by inch. You wrap your legs around my waist and I pick you up, press your back to the wall as I thrust into you, kissing you all the while.

If I’m home alone, at this point, I can’t usually type much. Sometimes I’ll just let him run with it, and other times we’ll tell the story to one another, back and forth, which I really like. Personally, I dig the dirty talk, so there’s usually a lot of cock, pussy, ass, cum, and fuck in our sexts. If you haven’t tried that, you really, really should. Unless you’re my girlfriend, Penny, because I think she’d say something like, “I want your cock. Holy mackeroley, it’s so awesome,” and that really doesn’t work.

So, side tip: Don’t do shit you’re really uncomfortable with because it’ll kill the mood. But do step outside your comfort zone a bit, because that will get your partner’s attention. Fast.

Step 2: Skyping

When our textversations get lengthy though, Northman and I sometimes end up switching to Skype because we both hate typing long conversations on our phones. Or maybe because we both know there’s a greater chance of nakedness if we get on Skype. Anyway, at that point, we upgrade to iPads or laptops and talk face-to-face-ish instead. This is my favorite outcome: seeing Northman. And no, it’s not because he may take his pants off at any moment (not just because, anyway), although seeing Quinn standing at attention is a definite high point in my week. I like the switch from text to video because I genuinely enjoy seeing Northman smile instead of reading an “LOL.” I like watching him react to my laughter and inept flirting, and I love having more of a “real” conversation with him. At the moment, it’s the closest I get to having a man I care about in my bed (I guess I could have one in there I don’t care about, but that’s just not how I roll, web dwellers) because I don’t have time for a normal relationship between constantly working, taking care of my minions, having some semblance of a social life with the gals, keeping up with my family and my laundry, and occasionally sleeping.

So that’s where I was the other night: In bed, Skyping with Northman at 2 a.m. in my panties (and then not in my panties). What can I say? I was hanging out in my underwear because I sleep like that sometimes (you learn something new about me all the time, don’tcha?) and he wanted to Skype. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked, so I didn’t bother getting dressed. He sure as hell didn’t mind. Plus, it moved the conversation in a direction I wanted. Another side note: In my experience, subtlety and men do not mix, so when I want to see Northman naked, I just get naked.

Northman and I were pretending to talk about our days, our kids, our typical goings-on. But I was watching him get increasingly distracted as I bit my lip and pinched my nipples, which were, just coincidentally, juuuust visible in the video frame.

Me, smirking: “You seem distracted.”

Northman: “You think?”

Me, tweaking nipples a bit. Hey, I know what the man likes: “It’s not my fault you can’t pay attention to our conversation. It’s actually quite rude.”

Northman: *Long groan* accompanied by insanely sexy lip biting. “Two can play at that game.”

Me: “I seriously doubt that.”

Northman takes off his pants.

Me: “You win.”

Make sure you have one of these handy. And extra batteries. Seriously.

See, here’s the great part. Yes, he wins in that he was right, he could play hardball, too. But really, we both win because I don’t mind pretending to be wrong if it means I get to watch Quinn and listen to Northman talk about how much he wants to fuck me while I take care of some business on my side of the screen.

This is another important thing to remember when you try this with your partner: Be willing to say or show your partner what you want to do, and be willing to go first. Speaking of saying what you want … Northman is fucking fabulous at this, and that’s really, really important. Because saying, “I want to have cybersex with you,” is really not sexy. But saying, “I want to take you from behind with one hand tangled in your hair and the other on your hip….” well, that’s most definitely sexy. Maybe it comes across as graphic to some people, but that’s fairly tame for Northman and me. The point is, be specific and let your partner know what you have in mind.

                                                                     

A Valentine from me to you. Enjoy, web dwellers!

Step 3: Have Fun

The happiest couples have fun with one another whether they’re doing the dishes or doing each other. So inject a little humor into your sexty convos and Skypes, and be playful. This is one of my favorite things about Northman. He never takes himself too seriously, and it’s not remotely unusual for one of us to crack a joke in the midst of our sexy scenarios. It makes me eager to see him and touch him and try all the many, many, many…many positions, locations, and scenarios we’ve imagined together. For those of you who’ll be heading home to your sexting buddy within a few hours, the tension and anticipation should be enough to have you falling over the back of the couch naked before your briefcases hit the floor. At least that’s my Valentine’s Day wish for you.

Go get laid, web dwellers. Don’t say I never did anything nice for ya.

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