I don’t think I knew the proper way to give a man oral pleasure until him. With his hand wrapped around mine to show me the proper rhythm and a steady stream of whispered instructions my face burned. For as long as I could remember I was told how well I did when it came to fellatio. Now I was being told that there was room for improvement.

I wanted to please him, so I kept silent. I listened to what he said and struggled to get it right. Less friction. Mind the sac. Smooth and fluid motions, girl. That’s it. Like that.

My head filled with thoughts of leaving him hanging. I mean, how dare he tell me how to improve? Then I realized that I was being given an awesome opportunity. I knew we wouldn’t last. I knew that this would not be the last blowjob ever, so why not look at the whole thing as sort of a blowjob boot camp?

The weekend continued on and I soaked his wisdom up like a thirsty sponge. I practiced and pondered. I experimented and exalted. And when the weekend was over, I walked away knowing that the weekend had been a waste of time in every other way, but at least I walked away with knowledge that most women miss out on.

To this day I remember every second of that weekend with him. Every single time I lay between The Knights thighs and touch my tongue to the tip of his cock, I remember what I was taught. When I have teased and tortured just enough to make him squirm and thrust his hips upward in an effort to finish deep within my throat, I remember.

Then I swallow every single drop. Just like I was taught.

Originally posted on www.thebutterflytemptress.com

Tags: fellation, Life, Love, Oral sex, Relationships, Sex, Sex Blog, The Butterfly Temptress

Knowing what I know, I should probably ignore it all and let it go away on its own. I should pretend or fake an orgasm and be content to hope for an orgasm to come my way. The problem with both of those is that I’ve alternated between the two for a while now and I’m just not sure it’s worth it.

I love my husband. I think the sun rises and sets on him. Our relationship is ideal in so many ways that it’s scary. I readily acknowledge that I shouldn’t really be complaining about something small and insignificant like sex.

Except that it isn’t small and insignificant to me.

He can take it or leave it. Oh how he loves his porn complete with scat and all sorts of other deviant delights, but sex? Meh. He’s good either way. He can talk a good perverted game but when it comes time to play, he fumbles and fouls at almost every step.

I know that oral sex “isn’t his thing” so I don’t ask for it. He says he will do it but when he does it…ugh. He might as well have just said up front that he wasn’t even going to try. Not even a lick and a promise. (Yes, it’s that bad!) If I gave head the way he tries to go down, we’d have been divorced long ago.

So, no oral. I can live with that, I told him, as long as you touch me. I want to feel your fingers on my clit, buried inside of me, I begged. He promised and once he even came close to doing a good job with two of his fingers sliding up and down my slippery southern lips. Still, no orgasm.

No foreplay is a huge issue for me. He will let me suck him off seven different ways all seven days of the week but God forbid I ask for two seconds of attention for my nipples or my clit. This is important to me, damn it!!

So, here I sit, wondering what to do. With all you sexy bloggers posting here I figured I’d ask you what you would do.

If your partner isn’t doing it for you, what do you do?

Honestly, it’s getting old. I love him and I know he loves me. Still, what’s a girl to do when she can’t come and she can’t cheat?

{If you prefer to email rather than leave comments, you can reach me at thebutterflytemptress@gmail.com}

Tags: Cunnilingus, Discussion, Fellatio, It Really Happened, Life, Marriage, Oral sex, Relationships, Sex, Sex Bloggers, The Butterfly Temptress

The holidays are over and life is slowly returning to its normal rhythm and motion. The tree is in the basement, the wreaths are off the doors, and the tiny pieces of wrapping paper have all been vacuumed up. Work resumes and normal day to day routines pull us forward once more.

As many of you know, Catalina was the driving force behind a recent fundraising effort for myself and my family. In her usual way she got the word out and the effort under way and the results were phenomenal. Even as I write this, I have goosebumps when I think of the wonderful individuals and companies that stepped up to help us.

Saying thank you doesn’t seem to be quite enough, but it’s all I have right now. So to Catalina, VibeReview, Babeland and countless others who participated, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

Tags: Babeland, bestsexbloggers.com, Catalina Loves, CommUNITY, The Butterfly Temptress, vibereview

Outside the snow had started to fall. The temperature had dropped and the house was finally silent. We had laughed and teased one another all day long, but it was late when we climbed the stairs and slipped between the sheets.

His arms pulled me close and held me tight. He whispered words of love and adoration, stopping in between sentences to kiss me and brush the hair out of my eyes. I sank into the mattress and into him, losing myself in the scent of his skin and the taste of his lips.

Without thought my hand slipped beneath the comforter and found his rock hard cock. I moved the linens away, leaving him exposed to the warm bedroom air as I stroked and teased the length of him. Barely a touch, never a grab to start him off.

“Kiss my mouth while you stroke me” he commanded.

He licked the palm of my hand and moved me back to his cock, past his gently rounded abdomen, then pulled me closer to him. My saliva slickened palm rubbed the head of his cock in slippery circles while I teased his mouth with tender kisses. Only a moment or two had passed when he whispered against my mouth, his tongue intermittently tangling with mine.

“God I want to fuck you!”

I kissed him a little more, pretending not to hear him. I moved my tongue to my palm and licked it, making sure to keep it moist while I teased and tantalized him. Only when he’s hard and wanting, yearning for release, do I feel sexy and seductive. I longed for the feeling, so I teased him a bit more before relenting.

“I want you in me” I muttered against his skin on my way to my hands and knees.

Seconds later he slid in, damp and sticky from our saliva. I moved against him, all but begging. I think I whimpered about loving the feel of him inside of me, about missing making love with him.

“I love you” he whispered gently.

His hands roamed my back and his nails left trails across my buttocks. He grabbed on tight and thrust, almost as if he couldn’t be deep enough.

That was all it took to send me over the edge. A good stiff cock and three little words and suddenly I was coming like there was no tomorrow. I struggled to breathe and wipe away the tears, thankful for the release but more thankful for the tenderness he’d shown.

{A side note-
I will be doing more toy reviews after the holidays. I hope to be feeling better by then and I hope to have more time. Things are crazy hectic right now, which I’m sure you all can understand.}

*Cross-posted from The Butterfly Temptress

Tags: Catalina Loves, Catalina Says, cigarette, quit smoking, smoking cessation

There have been several people who have impacted my life over these last months and Catalina is one of them. As I have previously written I became aware of Catalina when she posted the appeal for her daughter this past summer. At the time I was going through a rough patch in my life and was not sure if I wanted to continue writing my blog.

Seeing the outpouring of support for Catalina was wonderful. It showed me an entirely different view of what this blogging commUNITY was capable of. From that point on I became a regular reader of Catalina’s many blogs.

It would be a few weeks later that Tess and I would start working on the NYC Sex Bloggers Calendar. Tess had asked Catalina’s advice on many of the ideas and decisions we had and before we knew it Catalina was on board as not only a full supporter of the project but also donated all her PR work for it.

Over the course of these past few months I have been lucky to get to know her even better. I watched as Catalina would offer her help to anyone in this community who needed it. I saw all she did to help Butterfly with both emotional and financial support these past months and the differences she has made.

I refer to Catalina as the hardest working blogger I know. Without her knowledge, guidance and hard work this calendar would not be the success it is. Catalina helped us to contact sponsors, sell days on the calendar and worked with me almost every morning in those beginning weeks to come up with new marketing plans for all of this.

What I find really special about all of this is that Catalina did not know Tess or I when she got involved in this. She didn’t do it to help out a couple of her friends but did it because it was something she fully believed in as not only something good this commUNITY together could accomplish but also her support of Sex Work Awareness.

This experience and getting to know Catalina along with many others showed me a different perspective of this commUNITY than what I knew all those months prior. It showed me that there are many individuals in this commUNITY who will not hesitate to jump in and offer their help expecting nothing in return for it. I saw many people involved in this project who volunteered their time to help make all of this happen without being concerned with promoting themselves. Overall this experience was amazing to see what all of us working together could accomplish.

As I got to know Catalina better I found we had things in common in our personal lives and that we thought alike on many issues. There were days we talked about sex toy raffles, free porn and what our kids would have for dinner. We jumped from one subject to another without having a problem following each other.

With Catalina’s advice and guidance we all worked together to sell almost 300 days on the calendar within a 10 day period. That was remarkable considering no one had even heard of this calendar until we launched our blog.

We were creative with marketing ideas and nothing was off limits. I think our best idea was when we made Tess wear turtlenecks and withhold her Cleavage of the Day pictures until enough days were sold. Our marketing of this calendar was even praised in another blog post.

After so many months knowing each other only online I would finally get to meet Catalina in person along with Rebecca when I picked them all up at Tess’s house to head into the city for our party.

It was big smiles and hugs when we met and the laughs never ended until we parted ways the next day. There were many great memories of my weekend with Catalina and everyone else but a few special ones stand out for me.

One was within five minutes of us meeting when Catalina turned to me after hearing Tess and I discussing the last minute details of the party and told me how sorry she felt for me acting as Tess’s assistant all those months. She finally understood that slave relationship I kept talking about. I think it was at this point when she first offered me meds.

Another great memory was our 3am pizza run. Somehow I ended up going out for pizza with Catalina and the guys from Njoy in the LES at 3am. I don’t remember who came up with the idea but I think we all decided to blame Match for it because he had pizza delivered to our room at one point that night.

By 3am I was already in my pajamas when we decided to go. I thought about my last visit to the LES and the girl who was walking around with nothing on other than a strap on. I figured I would be sufficiently dressed with what I had on.

You might wonder what do two sex bloggers and the owners of the best sex toy company talk about over pizza at 3am. I found myself in a packed pizza restaurant discussing design, marketing, sales, sex toys and sex. At one point a young (drunk) woman walked over to borrow our cheese. As she stood there weaving and looking down at us Greg told her Catalina and I were sex writers. There was no response from her other than more weaving. She then proceeded to borrow our salt and Greg once again spoke to her telling her the rest of them made sex toys. Again, there was no response from her. She returned our salt and stumbled away. So much for that exciting life of a sex blogger we have.

There were many things I would learn about Catalina that weekend. One was that she doesn’t like to get out of bed. Catalina likes her beauty sleep. That must be the reason she is so gorgeous. The next morning she was true to that and was still in bed while the rest of us were up, packed and ready. I’m not complaining about that because it did give me the opportunity to crawl into bed with her one last time.

Another thing I learned is that Catalina likes to over pack. I don’t know if it was the cold she was worried about or if she thought she was going on a three week safari but Catalina must have emptied out her closet when she left home for that four day visit. If anyone needed a corset for the party she had it. I needed a sweater and flip flops for our pizza run. She had it. I was waiting to see Marky D. Sade next climb out of that suitcase.

The last thing I discovered about Catalina is don’t take your eyes off your plate if she is sitting across from you. I was busy watching the make out session with everyone at brunch and when I glanced back down again my pancake seemed to have disappeared. (That could explain how she gained those 5 lbs in NYC)

In closing I want to say I am very grateful that not only have I gotten to know Catalina but now also have her as a good friend in my life. This past summer when I was at a point that I questioned what the hell was wrong with people I came across someone like Catalina who just like Tess will do anything to help anyone out. She has both a big heart and a huge amount of energy which she does not hesitate to put to good use for others in this commUNITY.

Our friend and fellow sex blogger, Butterfly Temptress, is battling stage four cervical cancer and is currently in danger of losing her treatment and pain management programs.  Unfortunately, her family falls into the gap where they make too much to qualify for government programs, but their own insurance is not providing complete coverage.

In order to ease the burden on Butterfly Temptress her family, all Babeland affiliates are invited to donate all or some of their earned commissions for the month of December to Butterfly Temptress and her family.

How to Participate:

Become a Babeland Affiliate and start earning 20% sales commissions: http://www.babeland.com/about/affiliates

Email mae@babeland.com saying that you will donate your December commissions to Butterfly Temptress.

• Mae will send you a special banner to post on your site and link to your site each week in our blog and newsletterYou will also have access to a wider selection of products to review and offer your audience through contests.
• Visit Butterfly Temptress’ website and donate through her Pay Pal link when you receive your December affiliate commission check.

You can still donate to Butterfly Temptress even if you’re not participating in this promotion.

All your help is greatly appreciated.

Current affiliates involved:

http://aagblog.com/

http://www.butchtastic.net/

http://www.swelteringcelt.com/blog/

http://nitebyrdsnest.blogspot.com/

http://alpinesubdreams.com/

http://beautifuldreamer30.blogspot.com/

http://agentansley.wordpress.com/

http://www.leatheryenta.com/

http://dangerouslilly.com/

http://femmeinistfucktoy.com/

http://toys-for-tarts.blogspot.com/

…Your Blog Here!…

Thanks to Babeland for helping us coordinate this program for Butterfly Temptress.  We appreciate it!

Image from PostSecret.com

Wow, I’m down to two items, which I’ve already tested thoroughly and just have to write about: The Under The Bed Restraint System and the Universal Lube. Time for a new wishlist! I thought I’d share here with you what I put on my list. Who knows, maybe you’ll see something that will tickle your fancy (pun intended)!

The Lava Spot: I want this waterproof vibe to take in the bathtub with me! I hear they are fantastic.

Kama Sutra’s Raspberry Kiss: So Kama Sutra products might seem a little vanilla for a girl like me, but like every other woman in the world, I like a little romantic night now and then — if it turns into filthy, dirty sex then all the better – but it’s nice to start with romance sometimes. I think of Kama Sutra and Romance in the same sentence.

The Aneros Prostate Massager: Obviously not for use on myself, but on Marky, who has wanted to try this product for a long time. We’ve tried similar products, but I understand that nothing compares to the Aneros.

The Curve: I love a good dildo – nothing crazy, doesn’t need to have 8 speeds and variations in pulse – a simple dildo will do. I hear goooooood things about this one from my friends and I want to try it!!

The Liv and The Gigi: It is my goal to own one of everything made by Lelo.com! I have tried the Lily and the Luna Beads, but I have to have The Liv and The Gigi!!

Share: This is the rival to the Feeldoe. I have a Feeldoe and I’d really like to compare the two. I’m not convinced that the Feeldoe is the best product out there – though it might be – I have to know for sure!

So what’s on your wishlist? The holidays (and my birthday!!!!!) are just around the corner and November is a great time to buy sex toys as a gift because 40% of every purchase you make through me is going to the Butterfly Temptress Cancer Fund – so you can get off and get yourself on the good list at the same time! Ho Ho Ho (ha ha ha)

Editor’s Note:  This is part of a series written by The Butterfly Temptress.
For information on how you can help, please read this post, or go directly to thebutterflytemptress.com.
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part 1
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part II
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part III
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part IV
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part V
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part VI
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part VII
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part VIII

I’m not the woman I used to be. Somewhere along the way I feel as if I have matured. Part of me thinks that I may have even chilled out a little bit when it comes to things that don’t make a difference in the big scheme of things.

Gone are the days that I jumped out of bed and made it immediately. No longer do I stress or flip out when there is laundry on the floor of the laundry room for more than a day. I’ve even relaxed enough to allow other people to load the dishwasher, clean the bathroom, and do the grocery shopping.

When I was first diagnosed and started treatments I tried valiantly to do it all. I made the meals, packed the lunches, cleaned the house, and tried like hell to be everything my husband and kids deserved. At the end of the night I was so exhausted that I couldn’t be bothered to walk up the stairs to go to bed. Still, I’d wake up and do it all again.

My husband and I would argue because I wouldn’t let him do anything. He struggled with watching the woman he loved pushing herself beyond her limits and I struggled to be the wife I thought he wanted and needed. It took a major argument and pneumonia for me to let go and let someone else.

In the six weeks that he has been home with me we’ve argued only twice. I really thought that we’d kill one another by the time a week had passed but he was convinced that this was just what we both needed. He knew better than I what a difference it would make for both of us as individuals and as a couple.

Oh, we still bicker. He tells me when I’m being a bitch. I tell him when he’s being an insensitive asshole. There are times when I’m sure we both could use a break but we hang in there. By the time the smoke clears we’re laughing like loons and enjoying one another once more.

He wants to do more. I curl up under the blankets and allow him. If I need a soda he brings me one. If I am sick he checks on me and helps me back to my chair. If I’m hungry but nothing in the house sounds appetizing (and we have two or three dollars) then he volunteers to run and get fries and sweet tea from McDonald’s so that I have something in my system.

Our routine is simple, relaxed. We get up at the same time and head downstairs. He logs in and gets ready for work. I curl up in my comfortable chair and put my feet on the ottoman. He tucks my blankets in around me and brings me whatever I need before he heads back to his desk to work.

At some point during the day he helps me shower. I wash my hair and he washes my body. Then he washes himself before helping me out. He escorts me into the living room where my clothes are waiting for me before he heads back to his desk. (Showering and dressing seem to be the biggest energy drains for me but showering feels so good!) I dress slowly, piece of clothing by piece of clothing, then wait for him to help me back to my chair. If his schedule allows for it, we nap together. Otherwise, I sleep in my chair.

The days are the same. His love is the same. I thank him for taking care of me and he tells me that he loves taking care of me.

I never imagined finding a love like this. Someone who makes me laugh and smile is also the person who looks out for me, protects me. The person who drives me the most insane is the person I can’t imagine being without.

The man who kisses me gently in the morning is the same man that makes sweet passionate love to me at night. The man who is my warden is also my protector, my champion, and my guardian. The man who made me his wife has made me his life.

I’m convinced that when faced with a love like ours, cancer doesn’t stand a chance.

Tags: cervical cancer, Life Love Cancer, Love, Marriage, Series, the butterfly temptress cancer fund

Editor’s Note:  This is part of a series written by The Butterfly Temptress.
For information on how you can help, please read this post, or go directly to thebutterflytemptress.com.
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part 1
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part II
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part III
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part IV
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part V
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part VI
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part VII

We’re on the eighth part of Life. Love. Cancer. It seems odd to say it, but I’m kind of sad that we’re at this part already. Writing these posts has helped me in ways I hadn’t even realized.

They have been challenging but in a good way. Many times I have struggled and wondered where I would go with each installment, often to the point of tears. Now I realize that the tears weren’t tears of frustration, but my way of coming to terms with my diagnosis.

I believed I had dealt with all of it. In my heart of hearts I didn’t think there was anything left to confront. Well, anything short of death itself. I see now that I still had a lot of anger and frustration to work out. Writing this series has helped me to find a sort of internal peace that works well with my determination to not give up hope.

Before all of this, hope was just a word on a page. With every appointment, every scan, I sank deeper into the acceptance. I wrote letters and planned holidays that were over the top. Plans that I never had the energy to carry out, but the plans were there just the same. I focused all my energies on the end because that’s what I was told to do.

But it wasn’t me. I hated the feeling of waking up every day and going through the motions. I wasn’t living. I was waiting to die.

Waiting.

To die.

I started blogging about all the things that were happening and the response was overwhelming. People left comments and sent positive thoughts my way. They sent emails and offered encouragement. Perfect strangers brought to life a small glimmer of hope.

Today I write this and I know that I have made peace with the fact that I might die. I might die. My oncologists and varied physicians aren’t God. They do what they know to do in the best way they know how to do it. They give facts based on tests and labs and co-morbidities. I know the odds are against me. I know I might die.

The thing is, I also might live.

All the prayers, all the words of encouragement, and all the healing vibes might be just the thing to lead me to a miracle. I know that I don’t deserve one more than anyone else. There is nothing extraordinary about me that sets me apart from all the other people in the world who are fighting for their lives. I’m a girl in a world full of sadness and strife, in a world full of struggle and unfairness.

Am I wrong to hope? Is it selfish of me to watch my little girls and hope against all hope that I will beat the odds, that I’ll be there when they grow up? Maybe so; but holding them close and listening to them laugh only fuels the fire, the will and the desire to come through this on the other side.

Tags: cervical cancer, journal, Life Love Cancer, the butterfly temptress cancer fund

Click the Heart To Help The Butterfly Temptress

Never fear! I have more toys to review and report on, in fact I was planning to write about the We-Vibe today, which has an interesting twist to it, but I postponed it until next week to talk about VibeReview.com and The Butterfly Temptress Cancer Fund.

You see, recently it came to my attention that one of my friends was about to be cut off of her cancer treatments and pain management program because of she falls into that gap of making too much for the government to help and not making enough/underinsured to pay the medical bills that are pouring in as a result of chemotherapy and radiation treatment for her stage IV cervical cancer that has spread throughout her system. The thought of denying treatment and pain medication to a human being diagnosed with cancer is so incomprehensible to me – it’s inhumane. What kind of a country do we live in?!

Her only choice is to turn to her CommUNITY, my CommUNITY, your CommUNITY for help. Times are tough though and even people who want to donate don’t have it. I’m one of them. You might be, too. You can still help, though!

I contacted my friends at VibeReview.com to see if there was any way that they could help. They are a small company, but were just as impassioned as I was to do what they could do. On top of a financial sponsorship for part of the series, Life.Love.Cancer, on BestSexBloggers.com, VibeReview has agreed to allow affiliates to join in the fight. Now VibeReview.com affiliates can choose to donate their November commissions to The Butterfly Temptress Cancer Fund. VibeReview.com has agreed to double the amount and donate it to The Butterfly Temptress Cancer Fund.

If you are already a VibeReview.com affiliate, simply check the box on the registration page and VibeReview will take care of the rest. If you are not a VibeReview.com affiliate and you’d like to help, please do sign up. It’s fast, it’s easy, making links is as simple as click, copy, paste, and heck, after the fundraiser you could earn 20% of anything someone buys as a result of clicking from your link. It’s not going to feed your family, necessarily, but it will add up and you can buy that fabulous pair of shoes you know you want but would never buy unless you had extra money.

I encourage you to get involved – in any way you can – spread the word, join up, click the box, and make a real difference. It’s something we all say we want to do – now is the time to do it. We can make a difference. If you in a position to donate money directly to the Butterfly Temptress Cancer Fund, you can do so directly through her paypal link on my page or on TheButterflyTemptress.com.

Special Thanks to VibeReview.com for choosing compassion over profit. They truly are my first choice when it comes to online toy stores. I’ve worked with them all, and while some are good, there is a reason I exclusively promote VibeReview.com and this solidifies that exclusive relationship I have with them. When I say Catalina loves VibeReview.com, I’m 100% sincere.

Tags: affiliate program, best sex blogger, butterfly temptress cancer fund, Catalina Loves, cervical cancer, CommUNITY, health care, Life Love Cancer, vibereview

Editor’s Note:  This is part of a ten-part series written by The Butterfly Temptress.
For information on how you can help, please the introductory post or go directly to the http://thebutterflytemptress.com.
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part 1
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part II
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part III
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part IV
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part V
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part VI

I don’t think that anyone can ever explain what happens to a person when they stand toe to toe with a terminal diagnosis. Unless you have been there and experienced it, there’s no way you can help someone else to understand. Yet, people ask all the time.

They want to know what it’s like to do something knowing it may or may not be the last time. They want to know how it changed your relationships with those you love. They ask if it feels weird to have sex knowing that you’re probably only going to be having sex for a little while longer.

I try to be understanding. I answer their questions to the best of my ability and I try to do it nicely. Especially when I know that they have read my blog, because they feel like they know me after reading my stuff for almost three years. I figure that I owe them a little common courtesy.

What no one realizes is that the entire cancer thing is completely subjective. My experience with it isn’t like anyone else’s. My thoughts and emotions might not sync with their grandmothers experience or their sisters experience.

Still, it’s sometimes easier to answer their questions than to answer the ones that they left unasked.

The questions just hang in the air. They want to know about HPV. They want to know if I ended up with HPV which led to cervical cancer because I was a slut (I wasn’t – Sperm Donor had it and passed it onto me while the repeated rapes and abuse were occurring).

They want to know if they will one day be like me.

And I can’t answer that question for them.

There are too many variables; too many unknowns. I’m not a doctor. I don’t have the answers and I certainly am not in any place to offer any sort of reassurance.

So I tell them to see a doctor. Even if they’ve never had unprotected sex, ask for a full work-up. I remind them that they are their best advocate. If they don’t find the answers they’re looking for, go elsewhere. Doctors are human too.

If I’d argued with every gynecologist that told me that the results of my Pap smear were abnormal. If I’d made them read the family history section of my records. If I’d told them sooner that I was sexually abused repeatedly as a child. If I’d remained steadfast in my insistence that my age didn’t mean I was exempt from developing cancer.

If I would have taken my own advice, I might not be fighting for my life.

Editor’s Note:  This is part of a ten-part series written by The Butterfly Temptress.
For information on how you can help, please the introductory post or go directly to the http://thebutterflytemptress.com.
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part 1
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part II
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part III
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part IV
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part V

I wrote it but it seems kind of silly. Still, it came from the heart, so I wanted to share it with those of you who are following Life. Love. Cancer.

Dear Cancer,

Let me begin by saying that I know that writing this will likely do absolutely nothing. I acknowledge that this is an exercise in futility. Still, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel damn good to be doing it anyway.

For far too long now you have had the power. You have invaded my space, my brain and my body. I’m not okay with that any more than I was okay with my biological father raping and abusing me for years. I am an independent woman with a life. I have no time nor any use for the things that you bring to the table.

I know you’re a stubborn bastard, or maybe you’re just a lazy bitch who refuses to leave because there isn’t a better gig elsewhere. However, I have news for you. This is MY life; this is MY body. I don’t want you here. I never did. No doubt this is all a little harsh to you, but if you’ll hear me out, I’m sure you will understand where I’m coming from.

You see, I’m a mother. I have two absolutely gorgeous little girls who need their Mama. You know the ones I’m talking about. Gorgeous with impish smiles and tinkling laughter that the angels themselves envy? Yeah. Those girls.

They need me. Maybe they don’t realize it yet. Maybe they don’t think they do right now but as their mother, I know that will change. And when it does, I fully expect to be here for them.

I’m also a wife. Finally, after all this time, he married me. He loves me. Sure, he’s a man and he has man tendencies but he’s MY man and he loves ME. Where I come from, that means something.

I love being married to him. For me, it’s the best thing going. No one loves me like he does. While this whole terminal routine seems to work for you, it doesn’t work for me. I don’t like it because it threatens my relationship with him. I’m not ready to have that be over yet.

So here is what I suggest-

Chemo. A whole lot of chemo. Maybe some radiation. Nuclear warfare developed just for you. I’ve asked nicely, so really, you have left me with no other choice.

I’d like to say that I’m sorry it had to end this way but I’m not. So, leave quietly. Pack what you can now because you won’t ever be welcome here again. Are we clear?

Good.

I’ll see you in remission.

Without apology,
The Butterfly Temptress

Tags: Butterfly Temptress, Cancer, cancer fundraiser, cervical cancer, chemo, fundraising, healthcare, letter, Life, Life Love Cancer, Love, open letter to cancer, radiation

Editor’s Note:  This is part of a ten-part series written by The Butterfly Temptress.
For information on how you can help, please the introductory post or go directly to the http://thebutterflytemptress.com.
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part 1
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part II
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part III
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part IV

I’m more in love with my husband now than I ever was before. I probably didn’t know or understand just what love really was until the oncologists told me that I might not have it. I was a stupid girl living in a make-believe world, full of romance novel misunderstandings and real world consequences.

Along with being in love with my husband, I find that my attraction to him has grown to gargantuan proportions. He smiles and I see his rakish charm. He laughs and I feel that tingle somewhere deep inside. He reaches out to caress my skin or hold my face in his hands and I am taken to a place most women only dream of being with their husbands.

I know that I’m one of the lucky ones. My husband is faithful and he is strong. My husband is gentle and sweet. He is everything I waited to find. Is it any wonder that being near him, being loved by him, makes me yearn for his touch?

Sometimes we just can’t. The day has been too long and the pain is just too much. The desire is there but the energy is not. On those nights we snuggle close, skin on skin, buried beneath the comforter in our perfectly sized bed. We talk and we laugh most days. Other days, we cry. With our arms wrapped tightly and our toes tangled ever so slightly.

Then there are the times that we can’t get enough. A look across the room, a smile or a wink is all it takes to urge us on. In our bedroom, the living room, or maybe in the shower as the water begins to turn cold. The where or the why doesn’t matter as much as the when, as much as the fact that right then we need to be one, without a thought to anything other than one another.

Cancer is cruelest to those who need their families and to those in love. Who will be there to hold the hand of the man who stole my heart? Who will be there to fix his dinner, to remember his birthday, or make sweet passionate oral love to him at the end of a long work day? I can’t help but cry when it plays out in my mind.

Who will hold him close and cherish him the way I do? Who will see through his bark and beyond his bite to know that he’s hurting and in need of a hug? That’s my job, that’s what I’m here for. Cancer doesn’t listen when I scream and cry, when I try to make it understand that I’m not finished yet.

By now I know that the best thing to do would be to let him go. I should encourage him to find someone now, to help make the transition easier. Instead, I’m more selfish than ever. I want him all to myself for as long as I have left. I want his hugs and kisses, his touches and his orgasms to be mine and mine alone.

I just want everything that is him to be wrapped up in everything that is us until the end of my time.

Tags: Cancer, Life, Life Love Cancer, Love, Marriage

She waited for him in the abandoned hotel, leaning against the front desk. Her blouse fell open to reveal ample cleavage and her pencil skirt hugged her thick hips. She’d torn her fishnet stockings on the way in, stepping over the pieces of wood that had been placed across the door to keep trespassers out. She wasn’t worried about them. She had four more pair in her lingerie drawer at home.

Light filtered in through the cracks in the walls. It smelled of rain and aged wood. As she closed her eyes she inhaled the scent of something faintly floral. Once there was a rumor about the place being used as a brothel and the floral scent almost made her believe it.

Before she saw him she heard his tires on the cracked pavement out front. Any second he would appear before her and relieve her of her clothing burden. Oh she liked the clothes well enough, but what she loved was being naked before him.

As if he knew her thoughts he maneuvered over the wood that had torn her stockings and filled the space in front of her. She licked her lips and moved her eyes to his. An almost imperceptible nod and she began to undress.

She unbuttoned the first button on her blouse, then another. As she worked her way down to button number three she saw his movement out of the corner of her eye. Seconds later her blouse was ripped from her hands, buttons flying and the material hanging in tatters.

A gasp escaped her lips as he continued on. His strong hands unbuttoned her skirt then ripped it to the hem. It landed in a small pile on the floor and she stepped out of it.

The knife appeared out of nowhere and though she knew enough to not be afraid, her heart skipped a beat and her pulse raced. She felt the cold steel of the blade just beneath the swell of her breasts. He traced his way to the center of her bra and worked the tip of the blade beneath the cloth. A quick movement and her breasts were untethered, hanging, barely covered by the cups.

“Get on the counter and don’t say a word. Not one.”

His voice hypnotized her. That was what commanded her. Not the words but the tone of his deep, nearly baritone voice.

She allowed him to help her onto the counter that was covered in dust and cobwebs. Her hair cascaded behind her as her head hung freely off the other side. Her hands pulled the remnants of the bra away from her breasts then moved to pinch her nipples.

He spread her legs then lifted her feet to rest her heels on the edge of the counter. Beneath her bottom a small wet spot had started to form. His mouth met her open pussy as the blade sliced first one thigh then the other. She cried out and the sticky warmth flowed from her center and from the cuts. The blood and secretions mingled in a puddle as he licked her cunt one last time.

“Whatever you do, don’t move.” His voice insisted that she listen so she did. She barely breathed and she swore that the sound of her heartbeat filled the room.

She heard the rustle of his clothing and focused on it. The sound of his coat falling. His tie being undone. His clothes piled neatly to avoid wrinkles. His lug soled shoes landing on the floor. The sounds comforted her and reminded her that she had not yet been left alone.

His hands clamped down on her thighs and she screamed. She felt her back slide across the bar, the edge leaving scrape marks that burned when she was dragged through the puddle of blood and secretions. She screamed again just before his mouth captured hers and his cock impaled her.

Over and over he filled her. Come and blood mingled on their thighs and genitals. Cobwebs clung to her tangled mane. Their breathing slowed and he lowered her to the blanket he had spread on the floor.

With a gentle kiss on her lips he disappeared. The foyer of the old hotel was silent. Once again she had been abandoned.

*This is a work of fiction reposted from The Butterfly Temptress

Tags: BDSM, Cunnilingus, Dom, Fantasy, Kink, Oral sex, Sex, Sex Blog, Sex Bloggers, Sexual Fantasies, Smut, Submissive, The Butterfly Temptress

Editor’s Note:  This is part of a ten-part series written by The Butterfly Temptress.
For information on how you can help, please the introductory post or go directly to the http://thebutterflytemptress.com.
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part 1
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part II
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part III

I can’t even begin to tell you what it feels like. They deliver the news like it’s no big deal, like it happens every single day. Their eyes won’t meet yours and they glance at the clock above your head or clear the reminders from their pagers.

All you can do is watch your body from above and try to decipher the words. It’s like they’re trying to talk to you while you’re underwater in a swimming pool. You know, it’s warbled, a little muted and you want to hold up your finger to motion for them to give you just one minute to come up for air.

Except that there is no coming up. Your chest heaves and you begin to cry silent tears. There is no air to be had. Your nose runs and there are rivers of mascara on your cheeks. Later you will look in the mirror and ask yourself why you bothered to wear it at all.

Even now, that’s how it feels. Like it’s happening to someone else. Almost like I’m watching a made for television movie except the main character looks a whole lot like the fat me that I see in the mirror.

The hardest part of the entire process is the internal mental dialogue. You ask yourself a million times if you’ve thought it all out. Did you make the appointments for the radiation? Did you schedule chemo for the days when the kids had school? Did you remember to tell those kids that you love them even when they’re mouthy?

You smile at everyone whether you feel like it or not. You hold your nearly bald head high when you tell the old ladies of the hospital auxiliary that you’re doing fine, getting better every day. Then you tell yourself that you could always find the next Dr. Kevorkian because at least then you would die with at least a trace amount of dignity. All the while, you smile that thousand watt smile that your husband says is the one he knows isn’t real.

It’s not always self-pity. Sometimes you’re just downright pissed off; at the doctor, at your husband, at the nurse who holds the bags of chemo. You want to scream and pull the IV out of your arm like your former patients used to do all the time. You want to ask the clergy who prays for you why God decided that this was your cross to bear.

Friends don’t know what to say, so they stop calling or emailing. Family members don’t visit and gossip among themselves about how they think you’re doing. You can rely on your husband and your mother, but you hate to because they just look so damn tired.

It’s an emotional high wire act that can go wrong at any moment. Which mask is it today, the happy but in pain or the honest and unbearable? My husband says it’s a roll of the dice and he’s right; except I’m usually not the one rolling them because cancer has already done that for me.

Luckily, I do have my writing. When the world is a mess and my emotions are jumbled, I can sit down and blog. I am lucky to have met some great people through my blog and through other things I have written, so I try to let that be my focus.

Someone out there has it much worse than I do. This week someone has already lost a lover, buried a child, or been diagnosed with HIV. Someone in a country far away doesn’t have enough food to eat or money to pay the rent. Others have no jobs and no idea if they will survive another night with an abusive spouse.

When I look at the big picture, I’m ashamed of myself. For as much as it seems has been taken away, I have been given so much. My children are healthy. My husband still has his job. My mother and father love me. I can laugh, smile, and breathe.

Today I am alive.

Tags: Cancer, cancer diagnosis, cancer fundraiser, cervical cancer, fundraising, Life, Life Love Cancer, Love

Editor’s Note:  This is part of a ten-part series written by The Butterfly Temptress.
For information on how you can help, please the introductory post or go directly to the http://thebutterflytemptress.com.
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part 1
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part II

Long before the diagnosis, long before the seizures and the struggles within my marriage, cancer had completely taken my body over. I was tired and lethargic. I’d gone from working hours upon hours as a nurse to being unable to fix a full meal for our family. Exhaustion had taken hold.

As with many female issues, a common first sign of trouble is bleeding during or after intercourse. It was definitely the case with me, but one day it started and it never stopped. Week after week, pad after pad, I bled. After six weeks I scheduled an appointment with my family physician who promptly referred me to a gynecologist.

My first exam was impossible to do because the bleeding was so bad. The doctor told me that he wanted to prescribe birth control pills for six weeks just to see if they made a difference. So I sucked down a pill every single day for six weeks and went through a super-size packs of sanitary napkins weekly. Still, I bled.

My next appointment came and he said that he was going to try to do an exam, even though the bleeding was profuse. So I endured what had to be one of the most painful exams ever. While he was doing the exam he also decided to do a biopsy, just in case. When I left, I left with a handful of pamphlets and lots of questions.

Ultimately, the tests came back and they did some minor surgeries. We thought that was it. Just some abnormal cells, nothing to be worried about. Life goes on.

Except it didn’t. The bleeding got worse. My skin looked like that of a person who had been dead and embalmed and even felt that way.

Add all of that to the fact that I am fat and well, I guess it comes as no surprise that sex wasn’t happening. I didn’t even want it. My husband didn’t ask for it, I didn’t ask for it, so we just kept floating along, content to have yet one more item off our checklist.

My body had betrayed me. That was what I felt. Instead of working through it, I began to feel sorry for myself. I got out of bed long enough to do the basics, like see the kids off to school and fix dinner. I had no desire to do anything other than that, so I didn’t.

The turning point came only after the diagnosis was made. They had started chemo and radiation and over time the bleeding slowed. Thanks to injections and specific dietary guidelines I was able to regain some energy. I was fat but at least I was able to function a little better than before.

I knew we were on the right path when one afternoon before my husband got home I took a shower and did my make-up. When I met him at the door with a hug and a kiss, no doubt he wondered what I’d done with his wife. Instead of asking, he took me to bed.

From then on we were at it like two teenagers. Quickies in the bathroom. Anal in the shower. A quickie in the office on the floor, then a long slow session before we went to bed. There were weekends when our kids were gone that we didn’t leave our bed. We made love, slept, then woke up and did it all again.

There was an urgency to our lovemaking that had never existed before. I wanted to fit as many positions and experimentations into every second. Memories of a million lives squeezed into one.

That urgency is still there. With sex, with the laughter, and with the moments that can’t be categorized, I am desperate to fill the time with something meaningful. If I can’t leave a part of us behind in a child that we’ve created, then I am bound and determined to leave behind enough memories to last him the rest of his life.

But it’s not just for him.

It’s also for me.

For that moment when there is no more fight left in my body. For that moment when I can’t speak to my family, to my love. For that moment when I have no idea where I’m going and no idea where I have been.

I will close my eyes and let the memories play like my own home movie. The highs and the lows, the times when we were strong and the times when we could have been a little kinder to one another. Those are the moments that will have made us the couple that made it through with the love that endured.

Tags: Butterfly Temptress, Cancer, cervical cancer, fundraising, gynecology, Life, Life Love Cancer, Love, relationship, seizures, Sex

Editor’s Note:  This is part of a ten-part series written by The Butterfly Temptress.
For information on how you can help, please the introductory post or go directly to the http://thebutterflytemptress.com.
Click to read Life.Love.Cancer: Part 1

Even before the scan showed that the cancer had spread to my brain, I guess I knew something had changed. Headaches became more intense and far more frequent than the ones that usually accompanied radiation. I started forgetting things that I would normally never forget. (Anyone who knows me knows that I never forget anything- ever.) Instead of remaining positive, suddenly I was unable to smile or find even the slightest bit of joy in anything. I cried all the time, at any time, often for no reason.

Then there were the seizures. I didn’t know they were seizures. I would fall down the stairs and not remember doing it. I would pass out in the bathroom and wake up with my head against the door at an awkward angle, usually with my pants and underwear around my ankles. At first I didn’t tell my husband because I didn’t want him to worry. Soon enough there was no hiding them and he was taking time off of work to be with me.

The dynamics within our relationship were changing. What started out as an old-fashioned relationship where he was the man of the house and I was the woman who kept him in clean shirts and hot meals soon became old-fashioned in a completely different way. We began ordering more pizza and while I still tried to lay out his clothes for him every morning, it was him that started caring for me.

While we had always showered together on the days he worked from home or on the weekends, it soon became a necessity. He was determined to make sure that I was safe, that in the event that I had a seizure in the shower he would be there to make sure I was ok. He began to wash me from head to toe just as I’d washed him from head to toe every day since we’d moved in together. We were less like lovers every single day and it worried me.

I remember reading somewhere that 75% of marriages fail when one person is diagnosed with a terminal illness. That number haunted me. There were people at the hospital that came in every week to tell us that their spouses had left or brought up divorce. People who were madly in love suddenly weren’t. So, I did what any irrational and completely terrified individual would do; I offered him an out.

If we argued about the kids, I offered him an out. If I had a seizure before he left for work and he called in sick to stay home with me, I picked a fight and said whatever I had to say to make him want to leave. In my heart and in my head I was convinced that we would both be better off if he just skipped to the part where he left. That way, we were covered. If I died, he would be gone so he wouldn’t have to deal with it. If he decided he couldn’t handle my diagnosis, it was a non-issue because I’d already pushed him away. No matter what, there was always the out.

While I don’t remember the exact argument, I remember knowing in my heart that I’d finally pushed him away. I remember that July day when his shoulders slumped and his eyes dimmed. He’d had enough and I’d finally convinced him that I was right. So, he asked me to leave.

Looking back, I suppose I should have been relieved. I should have taken a deep breath and gone quietly. After all, he had finally taken the out that I had been offering all along. Instead, all I could do was cry. As I packed my clothes and comforted my girls, I sobbed. While I called my parents to come and get me, while I tried to think of all the things I’d have to do, while I silently wished for his arms around me, I cried.

When it was time for me to leave, I could see in his eyes that he wanted to take it back. I could tell that he was sorry for the entire argument. I remember wrapping my arms around him and telling him that I would love him forever, whether we were together or not. As I held him, I realized that all along all I had really wanted were his words of reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere. Instead, I’d pushed him away, pushed him to his breaking point and I was hearing him tell me good-bye.

On the drive to my parents’ house, all I could do was cry. My heart was shattered into a million pieces. The only person who had ever loved me and accepted me was the one person I’d managed to drive away. I didn’t think that it could ever be worked out but I hoped just the same.

That night, before everyone went to bed, I slipped off to use the computer. As I sat in front of the monitor with the cursor blinking on the blank page, I wondered if it would even make a difference. Instead of saying anything that I was thinking or feeling, I simply emailed him and told him that I had arrived safely and signed it as I’d signed every email since I’d met him.

It was a long night. I didn’t sleep and I didn’t want to. I wasn’t in my home, in my bed, with my husband. Sleep wasn’t happening. So I wrote and I cried and I prayed that it would all turn out the way it was supposed to.

When morning came I checked my email. He had replied to my email with short phrases and words that gave no indication of how he was feeling or where we would go from there. I was sad until I read his post script asking if he could call me.

Then I knew we would be ok. I knew in my heart of hearts that this whole cancer thing wouldn’t tear us apart. It would only make us stronger.

Tags: Cancer, cervical cancer, Fundraiser, Life, Life Love Cancer, Love, Marriage, seizures

Trust Me... Does That Look Like A Girl Who Would Steer You Wrong?

Catalina’s Favorite Sex Blog Posts Of The Week! Thanks to Altered Aperture who makes me all pretty and then captures it on camera time and time again.

CatalinaLoves.com:

• Catalina loves Random Things
• Catalina loves The Liberator Throe
  

CatalinaSays.com:

• Busy as a Beaver
• Where Do Pro Dommes Advertise? Want To Go To Oral Sex Night? Beware of Eden!

BestSexBloggers.com:

• Time For Our CommUNITY To Work Together For the Butterfly Temptress
• Impostor

Backdoor Bondage Blog:

• Backdoor Bondage’s Clip Store Has Claire Adams and Petal Benson Hanging Upside Down In a Cage In The Woods For Sex (it’s awesome!!)
• Madison Young is a Rigger’s Dream

Into The Attic Blog:

• Yep, That’s a Real Deer Leg

Thursday’s Child:

• Intoxication

Dungeon Place:

• Hotel Rooms, Ex Wives, and Submission (A three-part series)

Mz Berlin’s Blog:

• I’m back from Kink.com where I shot with Princess Donna for Wired Pussy

Ms. Nikki Nefarious:

• Rigging for Athena Fatale and Jinx1313

Shared Cindy:

• Judy’s Story – Part 1

The Urban Gypsy:

• Cleavage of the Day: NYC Free Foods, Mint Oreos, and Advil

Sweltering Celt:

• HNT – Boobiestar Edition

Leather Yenta:

• New York Leather Weekend – Sunday

Debauched Domestic Diva:

• HNT – Calendar Preview

Curvaceous Dee:

• Made Of Awesome – HNT

The Butterfly Temptress:

• Life.Love.Cancer – CommUNITY

::psst… for more hot sex blog links go to Sugasm.com::

Tags: Altered Aperture, athena fatale, BackDoor Bondage Blog, Best Sex Bloggers, blog series, Bondage Rigging, Butterfly Temptress, cancer fundraiser, Catalina Loves, Catalina Says, Claire Adams, cleavage, cleavage pics, CommUNITY, Curvaceous Dee, debauched domestic diva, dominatrix advertising, dungeon place, EdenFantasys, favorite sex blog, HNT, hnt boob, hnt calendar, i am made of awesomeness, into the attic blog, intoxication, jinx1313, kink dot com, kinky blog, Leather Yenta, Liberator, life love cancer community, Link Roundup, madison young, Ms. Nikki Nefarious, Mz Berlin, new york leather weekend, Oral Sex Night, princess donna, Pro-Domme, Professional Dominatrix, rigging, Sex Blog, Shared Cindy, The Week In Kink, thursday’s child, Unusual gags, Urban Gypsy, wired pussy

Editor’s Note:  This is part of a ten-part series written by The Butterfly Temptress.
For information on how you can help, please read yesterday’s post or go directly to the http://thebutterflytemptress.com.

Before I was what I am now, I used to play the ‘What If…?’ game. As a nurse it was a favorite game to play when you spent your life surrounded by illness and death. In the game, I was always so sure of what my actions would be if…I were paralyzed…I was diagnosed with HIV (a very real possibility for anyone in health care professions)…I was told that I was dying of cancer.

So the day finally came that I wasn’t playing the ‘What If…?’ game anymore. I was originally diagnosed with cervical cancer that was so progressed that it has spread to my lymph nodes. The situation wasn’t easy to fix and the treatments were more complex than I’d ever imagined them being. I’d worked with cancer patients. I’d played the game and I was so sure of what I would do, how I would handle everything.

The reality, however, is that I wasn’t sure at all. Somewhere between playing that game and a terminal diagnosis, I’d fallen in love. I’d dealt with my issues and I’d moved from working as a nurse to living my dream of writing for a living. Suddenly all my thoughts and resolutions, my decision to never fight cancer if I were diagnosed, had fallen by the wayside.

Immediately after meeting him I no longer lived my days surrounded by death and illness. Instead, I’d started to live my life surrounded by love. My days were filled with hopes and dreams. The words that I wrote flowed from my fingertips like a river to the sea and I finally believed in myself. At the age of twenty-eight I had found true and unconditional love. And at the age of thirty I was told that it was a temporary thing.

I remember that day, just barely. He picked me up from the hospital and took me home. I waited by the phone for the call. After the curt voice on the other end I was in a state of disbelief. Numb, shocked, I walked up the stairs and crawled into our bed. A million thoughts tumbled around inside my head and I couldn’t make sense of it. I couldn’t breathe and for the longest time, I couldn’t cry. All I could think about were our five children and about how this would affect the people I loved the most.

It wasn’t long before my (then) husband-to-be made his way upstairs. He didn’t say anything at all. He just held me close until I told him what the doctor said. He still held on but he also began to tell me how strong we are, how well we’d do, how quickly we would put this behind us. I wanted to believe him, needed to believe him, so I did. He’d never let me down before.

The day came for chemo and radiation to start. The first round consisted of oral chemotherapy combined with radiation. It was great at keeping us in a holding pattern. Things were no better but then again, they were no worse either. I bounced through it almost without any issues whatsoever. My attitude was positive and I felt that our relationship was fine.

Then the doctor told me that it had stopped working; the cancer had spread to my lymph system.

Tags: Butterfly Temptress, Cancer, cervical cancer, CommUNITY, fundraising, Life, Life Love Cancer, Love, metastatic cancer, Relationships

Image from Postsecret.com

Let me get right to the point: Our very own Best Sex Blogger, the Butterfly Temptress, is fighting for her life.  I mean that literally.  She is fighting to watch her children grow up and to grow old with her Knight.  I’m not just worked up and impassioned just because she’s fighting cancer, though.  No, what has me enraged is that she’s exerting precious energy fighting the system.  What kind of a country do we live in where we stand by and watch someone be denied cancer treatment because of money?  You know it happens — if you make just too much you don’t qualify for medicaid, and if you are like most of us, you’re working without benefits.  I suppose the lab has the right to deny her treatment, it is a business, but I could never imagine working for a company like that.  I wouldn’t last a day as a pharmacist – if a cancer patient came to me saying she needs pain medication, I would give it to her.

Well, I told the Butterfly Temptress that I am not going to sit idly by and watch as she is denied treatment that could save her life and medicine that can relieve her pain.  It’s inhumane.

Originally, I started posting about the series, but didn’t actually post them here.  I have been given permission to post them here, so that we, her CommUNITY can repost them widely.

Now it is for us, her CommUNITY, to march beside her into battle.  You can read her post about finally accepting the support that I know this CommUNITY can offer her, and I don’t just mean financial support.  Please spread the word.  Twitter the link.  Please send a link here from your blog.  Please offer her your love and encouragement.  And if you are in a position to donate money to Butterfly, please click the link to the right of the page which goes directly to the Butterfly Temptress Cancer Fund.  I know some people are uncomfortable with Paypal, and I am sure that other arrangements can be made.

Start reading tomorrow as I post daily each part of the ten-part series: Life.Love.Cancer and start spreading the word now, please.  Start now by going to her post and giving her your love, encouragement, prayers, and blessings.  Fill her comments with emotional armor.

Tags: Cancer, CommUNITY, fundraising, Healhcare Policy, injustice, Life Love Cancer, The Butterfly Temptress

I have been spending time on Fetlife. We all know the coolness that is Fetlife by now. Kinky people from all different walks of life, communing in one place on the Internet. It’s a very cool thing, right down to Jay Wiseman joining and starting a discussion group.

The problem then?

I feel like an imposter. I know I mentioned it on Twitter and plenty of people assuaged my feeling then by pointing out that all sorts of people are on there. Still, I feel like a fake.

It’s not just there, mind you. It’s on my own blog too. What started out as erotic posts about kinky sex have morphed into posts about things like cancer and song lyrics that fit my mood at the moment. Seriously, I don’t remember the last time I blogged about sex much less freaky sex!

Maybe it’s time to hang up my sex blogger hat. I never started with one in mind anyway. It was just sort of given to me. Perhaps instead of sexy, stimulating, kinky, and hot people in my sidebar I need to link to Obama and CNN. Instead of wishing for something that leads to being featured on Fleshbot or in the Sugasm top three what if I need to just accept the signs of the times and leave well enough alone.

The thing is, I like my blog. I like that I have grown and come into my own in so many ways. I like the fact that people read and respond, that they come back time and time again. The people I have come to know are fabulous and they never cease to amaze me. Right now I’m not ready to let it go, give it up, or call it quits.

Even if I am an imposter.

Tags: Catalina Says, Ellie Lumpesse, FetLife, Fleshbot, It Really Happened, Kink, Life, Lochai, Love, Marriage, Relationships, Sex, Sex Blog, Sex Bloggers, The Butterfly Temptress, Thursday's Child

There was a time that I actually participated in BDSM activities. I was single and dating, putting myself out there in hopes of finding something real. In the process, I learned a lot about myself and about the lifestyle. Since my life has become less edge and more vanilla, I am more thankful than ever that I had the opportunity to experience things for myself.

My first experience with any sort of bondage came from a man named Michael. He was older by about fifteen years and very wise in the ways of the world. To this day I’m not certain of his heritage but it doesn’t matter. The important thing is knowing that he was gorgeous and sophisticated and he ruled his world with an iron fist.

He rented a hotel room for me and I checked in two hours ahead of our scheduled meeting time. I showered and shaved, feeling very much like a virgin on her wedding night. I followed his instructions and swallowed the fear, pretending that I was an old pro.

That first night I sucked him off and he made me orgasm by pressing his mouth to my dripping cunt. It was slow and sweet and I felt let down. Then I felt guilty for questioning him, even if it was only in my mind. As he dressed to leave, I was speechless.

The next morning he showed up at six and gone were the sweet ways and the pleasantries. Instead I was face down in the mattress with his condom covered cock violating me. His hands held my long auburn hair as if he were holding the reigns of a mare and as he leaned over me I felt his teeth close against the flsh of my back. I screamed out loud and his climax was almost instant.

We showered and left the room to go to lunch. I don’t remember where he took me, but it was nice and quiet. We could talk in whispers and I loved feeling as if I hadn’t a care in the world.

Back at the hotel he told me to undress and lay on the bed. I did as I was told and waited with bated breath. A blindfold was placed over my eyes and it crossed my mind that I should probably fear for my life. Instead, I laid still and waited for his next move.

He raised my hands above my head and I felt the cold steel handcuffs close. The loud click echoed in the nearly empty room and I tested them. They were tight but they didn’t dig into my skin, so I relaxed once more.

My ankles were restrained and I knew that my fat body spread eagle on the bare bed must have made an awful sight. He said he liked women with curves, BBWs, and I had believed him. Now I wondered if he only chose them to torture and kill them, to make the world better for pretty thin people. Still, I didn’t move. I just laid there and shivered.

I felt his fingers in my skin and he told me to remember that I was free to use my safe word whenever I felt I needed it. I didn’t speak. It wasn’t something that needed a reply.

Almost immediately I felt the flogger land between my breasts. One blow then another. Over and over again he alternated between my breast, my fat tummy, and my muscular legs. I cried and I came; I screamed his name and begged for mercy but I didn’t use my safe word.

He stopped and I heard him begin to rummage through his toy bag. I heard him tear open a condom package then the sound of it being rolled into place. He was going to fuck me again, after the intense flogging. I began to cry and contemplate the safe word. My body was tired and my soul was in need.

There was a click and whirl of noise. I stopped crying to listen more closely. I heard the shutter of a camera and began to panic in earnest.

He told me to keep my legs spread and my mouth shut. I felt his fingers pry my cunt lips apart and the coolness of a condom against my skin. A sharp pain shot through me and I tried not to scream.

In and out; out further, in deeper. Over and over again he fucked my pussy with a huge object, stopping only long enough to take pictures. I cried and moaned and soared. The orgasms shook my body.

As quickly as it had started, it was over. He removed the restraints. He unlocked the handcuffs. When he removed the blindfold and I saw his smiling face, nothing had ever looked so fabulous.

We bathed together in the huge jacuzzi tub and I remember thinking that I would never again be the same. More than he needed to control, I needed to submit. I needed to be controlled; I needed to be told what to do because otherwise, my brain would never turn off. He recognized it and nurtured it. He kept me for the entire summer, feeling so strongly that I was walking in the sun.

And now? I’m lost. I’m always on. I’m crawling in the dark.

Tags: BDSM, Bondage, fellation, Fetish, First Encounters, It Really Happened, Kink, Life, Oral sex, Photography, Sex, sex blogger, Submissive, The Butterfly Temptress

She dialed his number and crossed her fingers. Ring one. Ring two. Ring three. Ring four. Then his message telling her that he wasn’t available but asking her to leave a message anyway. She started to hang up but decided against it.

“Hello, Sir. You know who this is and you know what I want. You know how to reach me, how to touch me, and how to make me do anything your heart desires. I was thinking of showing instead of telling but you’re not available. Call me when you are.”

She flipped her phone closed and pulled her robe tighter around her. She stared out the window and watched the falling leaves swirl and sway in the wind. It crossed her mind to have a bit of pride, to not let on how much the man had gotten to her but she was powerless against it. When she’d handed her submission to him, she’d handed him her heart as well.

The grandfather clock in the hall struck ten and she willed herself to move from the sofa. A November rain had dampened the city and soon snow would come in its place. She checked the lock on the front door, blew out the candles on the foyer table, and made her way into her room. She laid her phone on the nightstand and turned out the lamp. The robe slipped from her shoulders and onto the floor as she slipped between the cool cotton sheets. Since she met him she was only allowed to sleep nude and even if he wasn’t there to check up on her, she did as she was told. In a few minutes she was fast asleep.

She awoke with with a start, completely aware of the scent of leather and the tightness about her wrists. She tried to scream but couldn’t. Gagged. Someone had gagged her. Mentally she wondered if she had forgotten to lock her door then she wondered who would have gagged her.

“I’m sorry to have awakened you. I tried to fuck you in your sleep but you fought me.”

The whisper in her ear made her tremble in fear, but as his face came into view she was relieved. It was him. Instead of calling he had come to her. He had used the key she had given him when she moved in. She relaxed a little more but couldn’t help but wonder what he had in store for her. It wasn’t like him to show up unannounced in the middle of the night.

“Don’t try to figure it out. You won’t. The things I do have little to do with reason or rationality. They have everything to do with my desires. MY desires. Not yours. And it is my desire to see you bound and gagged because perhaps then you will see that you are the mouse and I am the cat. You are my slut, my plaything. Though it certainly is flattering that a beautiful whore such as yourself desires me, I do not care what you desire. That is not why I chose you.” With that he moved his face closer to hers and stared into her eyes. “I chose you because you were easy. You willingly gave yourself to me.”

He stood upright and clasped his hands behind his back. His gaze traveled the length of her naked body then back again. His eyes met hers and she quickly looked away. Without a word he left the room and left her as she was.

She struggled against the gag. Her bladder was full and holding it when she was scared was proving to be a challenge. She jerked and thrust against the gag with her tongue, trying without success to spit it out. His footsteps echoed down the hall and she stilled. Without looking up she knew he was back in the room.

“Do not struggle. Do not speak. Knowing you as I do, I’m certain your bladder is full to overflowing. Right now you’re wishing for a small reprieve so that you may use the bathroom, so that you may piss in that respectable little girl fashion with the water running and the door pulled shut behind you. And wish for it you may, but you won’t get it. Instead I have placed a towel beneath you. Under the towel is a rubber pad to keep from ruining those cotton sheets you love so much. You, my dear little cock tease are to piss right where you lay.”

She swallowed hard and tried for the briefest moment to convince herself that she had misheard him. She couldn’t possibly urinate in front of him, much less on her bed. As she struggled to tell him no, to be heard through the gag, she was aware of his movements.

The flogger landed on her breasts and she cried out. Not from pain but from surprise. They hadn’t discussed floggers or the possibility of their use. Her mind couldn’t process it quickly enough and she felt a second blow land on her other breast. He smiled a soft smile and placed a rubber ball in her hand.

“You were told to piss. You will receive alternating strikes to each breast until you do as you were told. It humiliates you, I know. It will also humble you and remind you of your place. In the event that you feel as if this is too much for you, you are required to use the ball as you would use your safe word. Drop it if you can’t handle doing what your Master has told you to do.”

She cried but she knew she could not drop the ball. She was not being harmed. She trusted him even when he surprised her with his actions. He had been patient with her and when they discussed taking things further she had agreed. With her mind made up she closed her eyes and willed herself to urinate.

“That’s my good girl. That’s my pet. It feels much better now, doesn’t it? To have released the piss that made you so uncomfortable. Your punishment is almost complete but you must listen carefully. In addition to what you have just done, to the blows you have received, there are two more parts to your punishment. Look at me!”

The seriousness in his voice alone would have made her look at him. Their eyes met and she knew that he was demanding the most of her. She saw his love and respect for her shining through the bright blue of his eyes and her heart swelled with love.

“You will receive ten more blows on various parts of your body. When I am finished with the final blow I will remove your gag. I will then fuck you in a way that I have never fucked you before, pet. I will lube your delectable little pucker and fuck your ass. I will take my time and I will be as gentle as I can. You can be assured that I will enjoy having the ass that belongs to me. However, as before, if it is more than you are willing to do or if it causes you an intense amount of pain and absolutely no pleasure, you are to drop the ball. I will enjoy hearing you scream and beg while I fuck you. So the ball is to continue you to be your safe word. Is that understood?”

She swallowed hard and nodded. She felt the bed shift under his weight as he knelt between her legs. The flogger landed twice against each of her thighs then twice more against each of her arms. The final two blows from his flogger landed squarely on the lips of her exposed cunt. She was ashamed at the expletives that she had yelled.

She heard him lay down the flogger and wondered if he would be gentle. He took the gag from her mouth and kissed her deeply before rocking back on his knees. The slick coolness of the lubricant caused her to gasp out loud. She moaned as his fingers teased and probed her hole gently.

“My cock is hard for you, slut. It is my ass to fuck and fuck it I will.”

With the head of his cock pushing past the entrance of her virgin ass and his hands spreading her legs wide she felt as if she might be ripped in two. She wasn’t tiny but his cock was huge in comparison to her puckered hole. A scream tore from her lips and her breathing was erratic.

“You feel so good, pet. Your tight little hole stretched around my throbbing cock. Can you feel it, whore? Can you feel how hard you make me? How bad I want you?”

She bit her lip and tasted blood. Her nipples were hard and she felt the initial pain start to subside. His fingers rubbed her clit and she could feel the wetness of her cunt mingled with the urine that was left on her labia. It was a heady combination and she couldn’t help but beg for him to fuck her.

“That’s it, whore. Beg for my cock. Open your eyes and watch me as I fuck your ass. Smell the scent of us, slut.”

With one last thrust he buried his cock in her ass. As he emptied his seed into her bowels the tears fell from her eyes and she felt her own climax take hold. The higher they climbed the faster she fell. “I love you, Master! I fucking love you!” The sobs wracked her body and she felt his cock slip from her newly stretched ass.

He laid against the length of her and loosened the leather at her wrists. His warmth blanketed her as his lips found hers. He gathered her to him and held on tightly. She knew she was coming down and she knew he was there to catch her.

“I love you too, pet. I love you too.”

He gathered her from the bed and half carried, half ushered her to the bathroom. As the tub filled she sat on his lap with her head against his chest and listened to the beat of his heart. He kissed the top of her head then turned them both around to slip into the hot water.

“I love you, pet. You know who I am and you know what I want. You know how to reach me, how to touch me, and how to make me do anything your heart desires. I got your message, but I wanted to show instead of tell.”

*This is a work of fiction…even if I wish it were not.

Cross-posted from thebutterflytemptress.com

Tags: Anal Sex, Bondage, Dom, Fetish, Hot Couples, Kink, Love, Relationships, Sex, Sex Blog, Sexual Fantasies, Submissive, The Butterfly Temptress

I wished for you today, Butterfly Temptress

There is so much more to The Butterfly Temptress than cancer, but it’s clearly a main theme of her daily life.  If you’ve kept up with Part II and Part I of the series, Life. Love. Cancer on the EdenFantasys.com blog, then your ready for Part III.  If not, start at the beginning and read it all, and then please click on the donate button and give what your heart and budget allow you to give.  It matters more than you can imagine and it matters double now, since EdenFantasys.com is matching funds that are raised through November 18th.

Here is an excerpt from Part III – please go to the original site to read it in its entirety:

My body had betrayed me. That was what I felt. Instead of working through it, I began to feel sorry for myself. I got out of bed long enough to do the basics, like see the kids off to school and fix dinner. I had no desire to do anything other than that, so I didn’t.

The turning point came only after the diagnosis was made. They had started chemo and radiation and over time the bleeding slowed. Thanks to injections and specific dietary guidelines I was able to regain some energy. I was fat but at least I was able to function a little better than before.

I knew we were on the right path when one afternoon before my husband got home I took a shower and did my make-up. When I met him at the door with a hug and a kiss, no doubt he wondered what I’d done with his wife. Instead of asking, he took me to bed.

From then on we were at it like two teenagers. Quickies in the bathroom. Anal in the shower. A quickie in the office on the floor, then a long slow session before we went to bed. There were weekends when our kids were gone that we didn’t leave our bed. We made love, slept, then woke up and did it all again.

There was an urgency to our lovemaking that had never existed before. I wanted to fit as many positions and experimentations into every second. Memories of a million lives squeezed into one.

I inevitably end up in tears after reading her writing, yet I also feel inspired to live life to the fullest every day.  I now it’s trite, but it’s trite for a reason – because people who die (as we all do) teach us that lesson again and again – live while you can live, love while you can love, and squeeze a million lives into one, no matter how long that one is.  Thanks for the reminder, BT, to appreciate Love.

Tags: EdenFantasys, fundraising, Life and Cancer, Life Love Cancer, Love, philanthropy, Sex and Cancer, The Butterfly Temptress

I am so madly in love with my husband. In him I have found all that I dreamed of and so much more. He stayed when so many others would have left me alone. Nothing ever could have prepared me for feeling the way I do about the man who gave me his last name.

When we met on Collarme.com I was convinced that this time I’d hit the bigtime. A man who was interested in me who happened to be Dominant. Our first conversations skirted around sex, but the tension was palpable and I dismissed it as his way of being a gentleman.

Time passed and we lived together 24/7. I knew his secrets and he knew mine. I whispered them in the middle of the night. I sobbed through them in posts on my blog. I gave him hours upon hours of no holds barred conversations detailing my expectations of him as my Sir, because he asked. I believed him when he said that D/s was a two way street, that he needed to know what I thought and how I felt so that he could properly care for me as his submissive.

Three years later and I am not where I want to be. At the risk of drawing fire from those who are in actual BDSM relationships, I freely admit that I have started to top from the bottom every single day, all day long.

I don’t tell him what to do. That would never happen in a million years. He isn’t that kind of man and I’m not that kind of woman. Rather each and every single day is a full on choreographed production for my own benefit to feel in some non-honest way that I am being the submissive I have always wanted to be.

The thing is…

It’s not working. Not for him. Not for us. Certainly not for me.

I tire of doing all the things I wrote on my Collarme.com profile without the slightest bit of interest from him. I lay out his clothes. I fix his meals. I run his bath. I help wash him in the shower. Even on the days and in the nights that I feel the worst, I offer him my holes without exception because I am his to do with as he wishes. (See what I mean by topping from the bottom? I’m doing all the things he said he would do but hasn’t yet…not because he reminds me or asks me or tells me, but because all I want is to serve him.)

Right now my world is so insane that all I want is to be used. I want to be tied up, held down, flogged senseless, then fucked raw. I want to be humiliated to the point of tears and have my bottom spanked so hard that there are obvious red marks just like the girl in the pictures on my favorite spanking blog.

I want to kneel at his feet with the collar around my bruised throat while he tugs gently on the leash. I want more than kinky sex. I want to feel as essential to his being as he is to mine, the way I know from experience incredibly awesome D/s relationships can be.

There’s no need to tell me all the things I’ve told myself. At two in the morning. In the middle of a horrible fight. In a blog post on the Internet for the entire world to see.

I love my husband. I love the life that we have built together. When I stop wanting and deny the needing, we’re pretty damn good together. Which is why tonight I’ve written all the things he’ll never know in a post for the rest of the world using words I’ll never say.

Tags: Anal Sex, BDSM, Dom, Hot Couples, It Really Happened, Kink, Life, Love, Marriage, Oral sex, Rope Bondage, Rough Play, Sex, Sex Blog, Submissive, The Butterfly Temptress, Vanilla

Please let me preface this by saying that if I come across as an idiot or the least bit offensive, I apologize. My intent is not to offend or sound completely stupid, rather I mean only to convey through this post a bit of what I am thinking and feeling. If I’m asked to remove myself from here or from the sex blogosphere then I suppose I would do so and not have to ask why. So, here goes…

I have made absolutely no secret of my bisexuality. My husband knew before we even met in person that I had been with more than a couple of women and he knew how absolutely wonderful those times in my life were. He understood that it was a part of me, like my arms and my heart, vital to my existence.

As time has passed and we have settled into our relationship, into one another, there is a security and a peace that neither of us ever could have imagined. We’re wonderful together, despite our ups and downs. Just as he has accepted me, I have accepted him. With that kind of comfort comes an intimate knowledge of the other person, sometimes so intimate that we often sense the problem before it’s acknowledged.

Such is the case with The Knight and the part of me who adores women.

Not too long ago he told me in no uncertain terms that I was to strike out on my own. My goal? Find my female soulmate. He sat me down in our foyer and explained that it wasn’t an attempt at a possible threesome, rather it was an honest admission to both of us that he knew I was feeling the the void in a way that even I hadn’t yet been able to admit to.

I thought about it. I mulled it over. I wrestled with his words and with my own feelings. I love my husband. No other man in the world is of even the slightest interest to me. I wondered if he wanted me to find a female companion because he wanted to be with someone different too. We’d never really discussed an open marriage in detail, so perhaps…

On and on it went for almost a week. At the end of that week he told me that he wanted no part of it in any way, but that I was to begin my search, period. So I did.

I looked at sites. I signed up for sites. I posted photos. I filled out blurbs and I answered questions until I had no more answers to give. I was brutally honest. I was just who I am.

I came up almost completely empty-handed.

There were two really awesome potentials. Emails and text messages were exchanged. Personal questions were answered. Flirtation was off the charts!

Then nothing. The one is still in touch via text but her life is almost as crazy as mine. Maybe for her it’s just bad timing. I can accept that and I have no doubt that maybe we’ll actually make it around to dinner.

The other? A crisis of faith. She’s a Christian who struggled with whther or not God was frowning on her bisexuality. She just couldn’t go against Gods wishes and plans, against her marriage vows. Well, I couldn’t be rid of that one fast enough. I have enough drama in my own life, thank you very much.

So now I have to wonder…

Where does all of this leave me? Where do I, as a married mother of five, fit into the sexual orientation picture? I know this sounds absolutely insane, but I am looking for my female soulmate. Is that really so wrong? Does that really make me a bad person, a selfish person?

Maybe you can tell me, because I really don’t know.

Tags: Bisexual, Discussion, Dom, Flirting, It Really Happened, Lesbian, Life, Love, Marriage, Relationships, Sex, Sex Blog, Sexuality, Submissive, The Butterfly Temptress

Sometimes we’re so on that it astounds me. We finish one anothers sentences, we want the same food for dinner, and we can think of nothing better than just being together. Cast aside are the insecurities and the attempts to hide my wobbly bits. In their places are actions that speak louder than words; a glance over my shoulder as he is about to slide into my ass, laying my body against his without worrying that I’ll hurt him.

We’ll spend the evenings laughing, teasing one another mercilessly; a back rub here and an intimate tongue kiss there. We’ll sleep a little and love a little, taking turns waking one another with a kiss. It’s in those shared moments that I am the most certain of my place in his life and in his heart. The knowledge alone is enough to get me through some of the toughest and most self-esteem destroying moments.

Over the weekend I awoke from a dream about my Knight. Without hesitation my head was buried beneath the comforter and my mouth had captured his cock. This isn’t an odd occurrence; not by a long shot. It’s the norm and it’s something that I enjoy immensely. Still, there are times that blowing him blows my mind.

As I held his sac firmly in my hand I took the length of him all the way down my throat. He moans his approval and thrusts his hips forward. It is in that moment that I know he was as ready for me as I was for him. He exploded in my mouth and I swallowed every last drop. Nothing rare, but exquisite nonetheless.

There is something life affirming about making love with The Knight. On the days when I feel the lowest, it lifts me up. On the days when I’m certain that I can’t go on, just having his arms around me gives me the strength I need to press forward. It’s more than the physical. It’s more than the emotional.

It’s spiritual.

Originally posted on The Butterfly Temptress

Tags: BDSM, Dom, fellation, Filth, flirting Hot Couples, It Really Happened, Life, Love, Marriage, Oral sex, Relationships, Sex, Sex Blog, Submissive, The Butterfly Temptress

Daydreaming…walking down memory lane. It’s a favorite thing to do on a warm summer day. A blanket in the yard with a tree for shade, a soft pillow for my aching head. The music from my Zune sweeps me away.

To a time when life was good. A time when my body had yet to betray me. I was young and full of energy, full of charisma and oozing sensuality. The world was mine and the beautiful people in it accepted me as one of their own.

From the first spring day that I had stepped into her house, I knew things were going to get messy. She’d been alone for a long time and financial circumstances had forced her into searching for a roomate. We made small talk, exchanging ideas on how we’d divide chores and bills, delighting in the fact that we both loved Ally McBeal.

Why was it going to get messy?

She was hot. Not in a conventional New England kind of way. More in a traditional, literary classic kind of way, with her thin hair in barrettes and her glasses perched on her dainty nose. I watched her lick her lips then try to look me in the eye. She couldn’t do it and we both knew why.

The first couple of weeks were filled with polite exchanges about the weather and our work days. Rarely were we home at the same time. Our schedules were the same for one week and on a lazy Sunday afternoon we stood together in the kitchen.

“Look..” she said with a sigh.

“You know…” I said at the same time without thinking that she would actually speak first.

I smiled and gestured for her to go on. My heart raced and my mouth was dry. I needed some air. I needed some water but she was blocking the sink.

“You have to go. I have a job and I have bills. I thought I could handle a roomie but it’s not working.” She stopped and looked at me as if she expected me to agree that we weren’t a good fit.

I sighed and looked at my feet. My sandals were new and my toes were painted a vampish red color to match my nails. I opened my mouth then closed it because what was there to say. She knew herself, right?

“Say something. Say anything. I can refund the money so you can find someplace else. We can even stay in touch by email if you want but that’s dumb because we hardly ever talk anyway…”

Her voice trailed off as I advanced towards her. In four steps I had bridged the gap but I had no idea what I was going to do as I stood in front of her. From somewhere inside it finally came to me.

I took her face in my hands and I kissed her gently. She closed her eyes, those bright green eyes with their strawberry blonde lashes, and she leaned into my kiss. And that was that.

Not one word passed between us as we kissed our way into her bedroom. It was gentle and it was a force to be reckoned with. As she climaxed against my mouth time and time again I realized that neither of us would ever be the same.

Through the summer and into the fall we lived as lovers. We shared a house and we shared our lives like any other couple might. We had dinners out and danced at concerts on the beach.

I learned the curves of her body and she worshiped mine. Together we discovered the many ways that women can pleasure one another, the warmth and sensuality that only another woman can provide.

For five idyllic months we hadn’t a care in the world.

As the leaves began to fall she told me she had met someone. The same man who had played at those concerts on the beach where we had danced was the same man who would be moving in. My room was going to be used for a nursery.

The rain moves me from my blanket beneath the tree. My toes are still painted the same vampish red and those sandals are in a box of things I just couldn’t bear to throw away. Next to the sandals is a photo card that shows a beautiful baby boy.

Tags: Bisexual, First Encounters, Flirting, It Really Happened, Life, Love, Relationships, Sex, The Butterfly Temptress

I wished for your health, wealth, and happiness

If you’ll recall, my friend is writing a series about her experience with life, love, and cancer on the blog found at EdenFantasys.com.

Part II of this series was just posted and I hope you’ll click on Life.Love.Cancer: A Journal by Butterfly Temptress to read the new post.  Just a warning…  grab a Kleenex, I cried.  It’s such an intimate account of emotions and feelings.

Then there were the seizures. I didn’t know they were seizures. I would fall down the stairs and not remember doing it. I would pass out in the bathroom and wake up with my head against the door at an awkward angle, usually with my pants and underwear around my ankles. At first I didn’t tell my husband because I didn’t want him to worry. Soon enough there was no hiding them and he was taking time off of work to be with me.

Please don’t forget that you have a chance to double your dollars if you’re the giving type.  EdenFantasys.com set up a matching donation account to help cover BT’s medical expenses, so your $5.00 donation all of a sudden becomes $10.00 between now and November 18th.  It’s a good way to do a good thing.  The Butterfly Temptress did not know that EdenFantasys would try to raise funds towards her expenses, nor that they would match funds – which is why EdenFantasys.com deserves an extra-special Thank You – for taking care of one of our own without even being asked to.

[Image borrowed with love from Postsecret.com - new secrets every Sunday]

Tags: Butterfly Temptress, Cancer, EdenFantasys, Life, Living with Cancer, Love