Random Rim Jobs
I swear. True story.Photo Lotto 24
Posted on January 10, 2012
I’ve never tried to fist my ass and it’s likely that I never will. And I suppose this chick’s not doing that either, but I hope that’s on it’s way, if she likes it.
I swear. True story.
Photo Lotto 23
Posted on January 03, 2012
They both look like they’re having a lot of fun. Well they should.
I swear. True story.
Happy Sunday
Posted on December 25, 2011It’s Sunday, which isn’t any more important than any other day of the week. Actually, days of the week, or weeks, or months, or years, aren’t all that important. Time is a social construct after all.
The fact that it’s December 25 means little to me other than it being close to a new year. Which only means I and everything I love are getting older. I’m most worried about Isis because she’s been having a lot of little ailments lately.
Here is something sexy:
I swear. True story.
Your Seat, Milady (5)
Posted on November 27, 2011[Continued from "Your Seat, Milady (4)."]
I really wanted some chocolate cream pie with freshly whipped cream so finally one night I told the Viking to get things ready. While I showered he put the plastic tarp down.
Unlike the previous sploshing experiment, I knew this one was going on so I didn’t need to wait in the bedroom for the Viking to retrieve me. I walked out to the living room to see the chocolate cream pie with whipped cream topping on the plastic-covered coffee table.
In the interim between the cake sploshing incident and the attempted pie sploshing incident the Viking had done a bit of research and decided on a tripod that would work with his digital camera. The Viking had been a little disappointed about the quality of photos he’d been able to take when I sat in the cake and wanted the pie incident – and subsequent such activities – to be better recorded. So there was a camera on a tripod pointing in the direction of the pie in which I was to sit.
It took a lot less time for me to get my ass in gear and get my ass in the pie. I sat right down … and knew immediately that we had made a few mistakes. The Viking had left the pie in the glass pie pan as I suggested (so it wouldn’t fall apart) and it was apparent that my ass was much, much larger than the pie pan. When I sat the edges of the pie pan cut into my ass.
While the cake hadn’t given me the feeling of something moist squishing between my ass cheeks, the pie definitely did. It was too squishy. The Viking hadn’t cooked the chocolate pudding enough so is was more liquid than gel. And what happens with liquid? It drips.
I stood up and chocolate pudding dripped off my ass. Let me assure you that even though we knew the brown substance dripping off my ass was chocolate there was absolutely no way for us to think anything but “shit” when we saw it.
The Viking took some pictures, but I implored him to stop. The Viking thinks I’m sexy and likes taking pictures of me in various states of undress and sexual congress. I like posing for such photos but I don’t like looking at them, so my opinion of the images doesn’t matter all that much. But there was no fucking way a picture of my ass with a runny brown substance dripping off of it could be considered sexy. Quite the opposite. I didn’t want the Viking to have photos at which he could look and laugh in the future when he hates me.
Pretty quickly I showered and dressed. After cleaning off the plastic sheeting (rather than throwing it out) and putting the living room back to its usual state of semi-disarray, we had some pie. It was tasty but the texture was definitely off, as my ass had noticed.
After two forays into sploshing, the Viking and I aren’t ready to stop. Sure, we’ve had our setbacks, but we also had fun. We’re both old enough to know that fantasies acted out are never as good as fantasies fantasized, but we’re willing to keep trying. Also, we have a lot more of the plastic sheeting to use up.
The Viking has gotten some feedback from some folks on Twitter (who may be part of his soon-to-be stable) suggesting we try sploshing with cheesecake. As soon as the Viking said that to me I thought, “Duh, why the fuck didn’t I think of that?” Cheesecake has many sploshing advantages including holding up at room temperature – when it’d be nice a squishy – and being created in a springform pan that’s sides remove for serving. There are some disadvantages, like being really fucking rich and caloric and being relatively labor and cost intensive. I’ve made plenty of cheesecakes including a good one with ginger snap crust – using gingersnaps I made – and pumpkin swirl that’d be great for this time of year.
I guess I need to get to cooking ….
I swear. True story.=
Your Seat, Milady (4)
Posted on November 12, 2011[Continued from "Your Seat, Milady (3)."]
I still had not felt the satisfaction of cake and frosting squishing between my ass cheeks. The Viking thought it’d be more likely to be squishy if the cake was cut so he grabbed a knife from the kitchen. Seeing the Viking standing naked with a large chef’s knife in his hand, I again thought of “Dexter.” The Viking didn’t cut me at all, but he hacked at the cake in a decidedly un-Dexter-like fashion; it looked like the victim of a crazed killer, not a calm and calculating one.
I sat in the pile of cake. It was definitely squishier; I could feel it between my ass cheeks. What fun! It was an unusual sensation that would normally be associated with something disgusting but it wasn’t at all.
It’s fair to say that the Viking’s favorite part was when he got on his knees and ate cake and frosting from betwixt my ass cheeks. He already liked to eat my ass so how could cake and frosting do anything but make it even better?
Then it was time to clean up. The cake was perfectly good except for its appearance. Obviously the Viking had no qualms about eating cake in which I had sat, and it would be downright silly for me to avoid it for that reason, so we smashed it into a container and put it in the fridge. The Viking brought a towel so I could get cake off my feet before making the journey from the safety of the plastic tarp to the bathroom to shower for the second time in less than an hour.
We both tried really hard not to touch anything but after our showers there was cake on our bedroom floor, on the bathroom door jamb, and on the bathroom counter. The bathtub still had big chunks of cake matter that didn’t fit down the drain.
Because the Viking had planned so well, it was easy to gather the plastic sheeting and get rid of most of the mess. In a short time our living room had gone from looking like the scene of a cake murder to a place suitable for entertaining guests.
We both had a lot of fun and decided we’d definitely do it again, but with something squishier. We’re still not sure who came up with the idea of chocolate cream pie, but that’s what the Viking decided to make for our next session.
Of course we thought all the thoughts you’re thinking about what it would look like if I sat in something chocolate. We did, and we decided that it would be ok since we would both know the runny brown stuff on my ass was not, in fact, shit.
Unlike the cake sitting, which was a surprise to me, we both planned the pie sitting. The Viking looked up recipes and settled on one that would utilize cocoa powder he claimed was really good because it was Canadian. (Aren’t Canadians silly?) I bought the recipe’s remaining items on my next trip to the grocery store. Together we popped into our local hardware store for some plastic sheeting.
The Viking made the chocolate cream pie with a graham cracker crust and put it in the refrigerator. We hadn’t planned a specific day for our second sploshing session so there in the refrigerator sat the pie for a week. More than once I saw the pie and wanted a piece but didn’t because I knew it was reserved for sitting.
To be continued ….
I swear. True story.
Your Seat, Milady (3)
Posted on November 10, 2011[Continued from "Your Seat, Milady (2)."]
I’m not sure when I first heard of sploshing. I saw A Dirty Shame where such practices were highlighted. Then, when I met Charles Gatewood I was introduced to his book, Messy Girls!
Overall, playing with food looked like a lot of fun but I had never had a chance to do it. Charles had offered to take pictures of Sugar and I playing with food. He suggested he bring a kiddie pool into his living room so we could make a mess without, you know, making a mess. It never happened.
But that didn’t stop me from thinking about it, something the Viking had obviously kept in mind.
He told me that I could do what I wanted with the cake. I walked over, my feet sticking to the plastic drop cloth with every step, and I looked at the cake. It was a half-sheet size with white frosting. Other than the scalloped border and my name there was no other decoration.
I turned around and hovered my ass over the cake. I knew I wanted to sit on it. I knew I wanted to feel it squish up between my ass cheeks. I knew that the mess that would inevitably result would be contained by the drop cloth, but I was still hesitant.
I’d never sat in a cake before, but I had had frosting fights. When I was around 10 years old my mother had a lover (her word), Peggy. Peggy and I got along very well, and I can attribute my sarcasm and smart-ass attitude to her. She and I used to make chocolate chip cookies together, and sometimes we’d make cakes. Cakes need to be frosted, of course.
That's frosting on my face. The hair is a product of the 1980s.
More than once Peggy and I got into mini food fights where we chased each other around with frosting and smeared it on each others’ faces. I remember having a whole lot of fun. I also remember that my mother wasn’t too happy and that she’d make us play our messy games outside. I’m not sure if that’s what made me want to sit in cakes, but it made me realize that playing with food can be a lot of fun.
Though I’m an adult it can still be difficult for me to get past rules I learned as a child. One of those rules had to do with not playing with one’s food. So despite the fact that I was invited to do so, it was hard for me to sit on that cake.
I hovered. And then I sat my big fat ass down on the cake.
It felt cold. The Viking had just picked up the cake from the bakery of our closest grocery store, a few blocks away. It was barely fall so the walk home didn’t cool the cake, but the store had refrigerated it to preserve it; they didn’t know that the cake was meant for sploshing, not eating.
When I sat on the cake it didn’t squish up between my ass cheeks like I had hoped; it flattened. It was a single-layer cake so it simply got flatter. I had wanted my ass to be covered with cake and frosting and for the cake to look destroyed. I got up and I barely had anything on my ass and the cake was just a flatter version of itself. My name was even still legible.
Meanwhile, the Viking had the camera out and was taking pictures. For the sake of his photos as well as for my own satisfaction I felt like there should be more than a flattened cake. I reached down and grabbed a handful of cake and smashed it into the Viking’s face.
I had already been laughing. The Viking had already been laughing. By the time the Viking had cake on his face we were a couple of silly giggling idiots. A couple of idiots who were having a whole lot of fun.
To be continued ….
I swear. True story.
Photo Lotto 15
Posted on November 08, 2011
I like her outfit. The bow on the back of the panties is a nice touch.
The Viking would think her ass is too small, which is good for me since her entire ass is probably smaller than one of my ass cheeks.
Another reason I like this photo is because there’s nothing in it that doesn’t belong. I am so tired of seeing what are supposed to be sexy pictures with messy bedrooms in the background, or a dirty mirror in the foreground, or miscellaneous crap distracting from the subject of the photo.
I swear. True story.
