Scintillectually Yours

I am positively certain that Susie Bright did not have a long distance relationship in mind when she developed this gem of an adult game. However, this little game has provided hours of thought-provoking conversation and real intimacy for DPR and I, by cell phone, 900 miles apart. I will expand upon that part in a bit but first let me fill you in on the details

I happen to love games, particularly those that are smart and naughty at the same time. So when Good Vibrations Sex Toys offered this up for review, I jumped all over it! I Dare You is a classy game. First of all, it completely appeals to the designer in me. The box is covered in a discrete red and black Victorian pattern and is tied with a black satin ribbon. It is so lovely that I keep it on my nightstand at all times. Encased within a black velvet lining are 30 crisp white cards sealed within creamy envelopes accented by a slightly paler and rather baroque border. Half of the cards are I Dare You… cards and the other half are Tell Me… cards. Lest you think the dares are going to be extremely explicit and perhaps give you assignments you don’t want to complete, I’d like to set the record straight: Ms. Bright maintained her sense of class throughout.

Let me back up a bit to tell you about our experiences with this game and how it helps to keep us from losing our intimate connection even when we go weeks upon weeks without seeing each other. We save the Dare cards for those times that we are together, and open the Tell Me cards while we’re on the phone. I don’t want to quote any of the questions because that would give away all the fun but they range from describing fantasies to telling personal anecdotes about past experiences. Some of these questions have brought up a lot of controversial discussions for us. They’ve opened our eyes to things we may not have revealed to each other, let alone ourselves. They provide titillating foreplay to some really hot phone sex. And, sadly, I think we’ve gone through them all.

The exciting part is that we have yet to explore all the Dare cards! I have not cheated and looked at those we haven’t tried yet. In less than two weeks, I will be living two miles down the road from my beloved and you can be sure we will be enjoying this game for quite awhile. Honestly, the Dares are so sweetly sensual and erotic that after one or two cards, you just can’t help but push the box aside and go for it. I do have to say that one of my favorites (spoiler alert!) was to have DPR blindfold me, put on something very simple (in her case, she got a button-down shirt), and I had to take it off of her. It was a beautifully sensory experience and I look forward to her turn to do the same to me.

So, while the product itself may not bring you to a mind-blowing orgasm, it may just lead you and your partner there. If nothing else, it absolutely brings two people closer together. It is a romantic, well-thought-out, intellectual game that can connect two people no matter where in the world they happen to be. Oh, and at only $14.95 this one is a don’t miss!

Good Vibrations Sex Toys does not pay me for my honest opinions but I do get to keep all of the products I review.

G, over at Can I help you, sir? has been writing a few installments of things that she loves. This morning, I read a similar post by my BFF, Femme Fairy Godmother. Because I have spent a lot of time wallowing in the depths of self-pity lately, this seems like a great way to practice a bit of gratitude and start the day off with joy and wonderment. I hope this spreads like wildfire!

Things I love:

really good cheese (like triple creme brie and pimente d’espelette); long, flowing romantic clothes with a hippie-chic bent to them; the digital Yahtzee game I keep in the bathroom; Zumba; The movie Bell, Book, and Candle; the way DPR gets so animated talking about any topic she’s truly passionate about; long, hot bubble baths; going surf fishing with my dad at dawn; a huge bowl of asparagus drowning in hollandaise sauce; afternoon naps with my honey; shooting hoops with my kid; the smell of fresh cut grass; rainy days with nowhere to go and nothing pressing to do; the way my cat sleeps pressed against my legs; driving the Blue Ridge Parkway at dusk; making meals for friends; pedicures; gleaming hardwood floors; The Office; playing Mahjong on my computer when I’m bored.

Day trips; brand new hardcovers; clean sheets on a freshly made bed; singing in the choir at church; picking up actual prints of my photographs taken with my non-digital 35 mm camera; horseback riding on the beach in Aruba; snakes; the smell of my son’s hair when he’s just out of the shower (even though he’s big enough at 9 to use Axe now!); going shopping alone with a few hundred dollars for my birthday; the smell of a new car; the fact that my own car was gifted to me, is 13-years-old, and still runs really well (gotta love the Lesbaru); other people’s babies; movie night at home with a big bowl of popcorn soaking in real butter; camping; dancing at a club until it closes.

Starbuck’s iced green tea/lemonade unsweetened; getting paid on time; the promise of a dishwasher in my new house; the fact that my darling DPR is refinishing lots of cool furniture for me and is getting rid of the nasty old carpet for me before I arrive; long talks with good friends; catching up on episodes of The Young and the Restless; drawing; the smell of the dryer vent; Las Vegas; her fist inside me; simmering stew on a crisp fall day; reconnecting with old and dear friends; writing.

I think that’s a good start. Pick it up and pass it on, won’t you? I want to know what YOU love!

I love finding new blogs, especially funny ones, really well-written ones, or those posted by women I can relate to. Yesterday I coerced DPR into posting an HNT and someone we didn’t know, going by the name of DykeEvolution, posted a very appreciative comment of her photo. Ironically, today I was catching up on G’s blog at Can I Help You, Sir? there she was again! I went to check out her blog and while I have a lot to catch up on reading-wise, I found this fantastic quote on her home page by Tristan Taormino. Because we all (Tristan, Jen, and I) share the same proclivity for uber-butch women, I thought I’d repost the quote here:

“I love butch girls. Girls with slick, shiny, barbershop haircuts, trimmed so short your fingertips can barely grip it. Girls with shirts that button the other way. Girls that swagger… Girls who get stared at in the ladies’ room, girls who shop in the boys department, girls who live every moment looking like they weren’t supposed to. Girls with hands that touch me like they have been exploring my body their entire lives… It is the girls that get called sir every day who make me catch my breath, the girls with strong jaws who buckle my knees, the girls who are a different gender who make me want to lay down for them.” – Tristan Taormino

Thanks Tristan! And thank  you, Jen, I look forward to reading you!

“I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they’re right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.”
— Marilyn Monroe

*CLICK*

Feeling compelled to write after last week’s self-indulgent sulkfest, I requested an assignment from DPR. The following was inspired by a little bedtime banter we’d had—very playful, extremely cute. The kind of stuff that makes other people want to vomit. I, personally, loved it and asked her if she could expand on it for me. She went in a very different direction (only one small part of this would give you a clue as to what we’d been teasing each other about) and I was really blown away by what she sent. Normally, she’ll set a rough scene for me and I will go off with it; this time, however, her writing was thorough and good, really good. So good in fact, that I couldn’t rewrite it. So, I am presenting a joint venture. The first part, from DPR is very much her impression of me. Think DPR and Scintillectual circa 1984–85. Then, I take over. I hope you enjoy the fruits of our labors. I never knew work could be this much fun!

Androgynonamous writes:

I lurked around the hallway after color and design class—waiting to see if I had missed you leave your illustration class, or if I would be lucky enough to bump into you. I shot the shit with Alice, my butch buddy from life drawing, and pretended not to be watching the door of your classroom. Soon, a gaggle of girls began to fill the doorway and move into the hall, talking and giggling as girls do. You came out with a purpose and kept moving down the hall as you chatted with some of the more grown-up girls. It was clear you did not want to hang in the hall or run around with the crowd today. But, then, I wasn’t surprised. Even at 19, you were more grown, more mature, than the others in so many ways. And so much more attractive.

I said goodbye to Alice and made my way toward you, watching the subtle sway of your hips…thinking about the warm pleasures to be found there. I slipped up behind you, “Hi there.” You turned slightly to say hello, but kept your pace just slightly ahead of me. “So, are you done for the day?” I asked. You nodded, eyeing me with that coy smile I loved so much.  “I’m done too,” I informed you as I moved up to walk beside you. I inhaled the faint scent of your hair, your skin, as I stared at the line of your neck.

“So, you want some help carrying your stuff?” I grinned.

The coy smile broadened, “Are you asking to carry my books home?”

“Yes…Yes, I am,” I returned.

“You know, there are lots of bois who want to carry my books home,” You teased me.  I stopped, looked you hard in the eyes and smiled, “I know.”

You handed me your tackle box and sketchpad and I worked them into my own armful of supplies. We walked back to the dorm chatting about our day. Now and then, I would lag behind just enough to watch you walk. “Stop looking at my ass,” you would instruct me, all the while being sure to ever-so-slightly increase that lovely sway. I was humming between responses to the light conversation. You asked me what I was humming. “Oh, just this song I know,” I said, “maybe I’ll sing it to you sometime…if you are good.” I winked at you—but tried not too get too lost in your creamy chocolate eyes and smack into something.

In the elevator up to your room, we were alone. I stood close, but not too close to you at the back corner of the elevator. You leaned in toward me. “So, now that I have let you carry my books, what are your intentions?” you whispered to me, moving to within about 6 short inches from my neck.

“Oh, I don’t know if I should tell you just yet, sugar…” I leaned in toward your neck and inhaled you deeply. “Why is that?” you asked as you offered your neck, barely brushing your cheek on mine.

“I’ve been thinking of doing bad things.” I said as the elevator doors opened.  We walked toward your room. I began to sing to you:

I want to carry your books home
I want to walk with your hand in mine.
I want to be the name on your lips when you’re all alone;
I want to court you and make you mine.
I want to give you rings made of silver and stone;
I want to be near you and love you for all time…
I want to carry you books home…

We reached the door to your suite.

Scintillectual writes:

You opened the door to my room and held it open for me. I motioned for you to lay my things on my drawing board. While you set down the load you were carrying, I shut the door and leaned back against it, quietly clicking the lock into place. The Philly streets were uncannily quiet on this warm, early Fall afternoon, and the latch reverberated in the silence. You turned with a grin.

“Where’s Julie?” you asked, sweeping one hand toward the empty bed on the near wall.

“In class, I expect,” I said, “Why? Afraid we’ll get caught?”

“Get caught doing what, exactly?” Oh, please. Now you play it safe. You were all but dry humping me in the elevator.

I fixed my gaze upon your green eyes as I began to unbutton my shirt, “I do believe you were thinking of doing bad things?” I saw you swallow hard as you watched my shirt hit the floor. You made a move in my direction and I stayed you with one hand. My jeans, bra, and panties quickly followed and I stepped out of the puddle of clothing and moved in your direction. You stopped watching me for a fraction of a second to take in the open blinds on the huge picture window. Just across the street was a bank of office windows filled with folks about to get a mid-afternoon treat. “Trust me,” I purred, “it’s not the first thing they’ve ever seen over here.”

You mumbled something and I pushed you back on my single bed, straddling you, utterly naked. I leaned down close to you, my mouth poised just above yours, “and what, pray tell, did you have in mind? Just a song before you go? Or…” I never finished my sentence as you wrapped your arms around my neck and pulled me hard into you. Our fumbling to get your own clothes off began in earnest. Belt, jeans, t-shirt, beater, my God, how much could one person wear at one time? Lips locked, we almost fell off the narrow bed as we maneuvered in and around each other. Finally, blissfully nude, you settled into a criminally smooth rhythm.

I sighed as you traced soft kisses around my ear and worked your way down my neck. I’m thinking you have a thing for my neck. You moaned quietly as you took my breasts in both hands and moved from one rock hard nipple to the next. My leg moved involuntarily between yours and I connected with your boi-cunt. Soaking wet. As if I wasn’t turned on enough from the moment I saw you standing outside my class (pretending to be all nonchalant—as though you weren’t waiting for me), I now flooded the comforter beneath me with my own juices. Soon, though, you were there—between my legs—making sure nothing went to waste. I grabbed your head and twisted my fingers in your hair as you ran your hands down my sides and pushed my legs farther apart.

After a good 10 minutes or so of you tonguing my clit and licking me up one side and down the other, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck me,” I panted, “you need to fuck me.”

“As you wish,” you said and promptly plunged three fingers deep inside me as I bucked against you. Grinding my thigh into you, eliciting deep-throated moans. I could feel my orgasm building and then I heard voices in the vestibule. Fuck. I prayed that they were coming from my suitemates until I heard the key in the lock. Why hadn’t I thought to stick the do-not-disturb sign on the door. Shit! Your head jerked up and your hand stopped moving, I grabbed it with my one free hand and shoved it back inside me. I wasn’t stopping now. Hell, what was the worst that could happen? Lose my Resident Assistant job? At this point, I cared not.

I heard the door open and we all gasped at once. You and I in tandem, coming together, hard and fast. My roommate, likely in shock from the sight of your bare naked ass grinding away at my bare naked thigh. The door slammed shut just as quickly and we pulled away from each other, sweat glistening on our bodies, our breath coming in ragged waves. “Do you…uh…should we…uh…” you stammered your mortification and I laughed.

“She’ll live,” I said, “and I doubt she’ll be back anytime soon. Now, I think I have a favor to return.” I pushed you back on the bed again and caught you smiling in the lengthening shadows as I moved down your body.

Congratulations to our dear Ang, the Sweltering Celt, on her own graduation. Four long years of hard work has paid off and I wish her all the luck in her new ventures. In honor of her own matriculation, she’s asked us to write this week’s MFM about…graduation.

It was one of those awkward, heated moments. You’d think we could have waited, right? Wrong. Moments to spare and my face was pressed against the cold cement block wall, my gown bunched in one hand, the other steadying me as much as possible as you drove your cock into me. We were barely concealed by a row of gray steel lockers. I kept glancing over to my left, half expecting the principal to come striding around the corner. Half expecting to get expelled although I imagine it was too late for that.

My breath was coming hard and fast as you pushed against my shoulder with one hand and pulled my hip with the other. My panties were somewhere. I don’t know where. I could hear names being called in the gymnasium. Distant clapping. I urged you to hurry and you slapped your left hand over my mouth and told me to shut up. I smiled against your palm and pushed my ass hard against you. Satisfied that I wouldn’t cut and run you removed your hand from my mouth and reached up under my robes to pinch my nipple. Hard.

I moaned. I strained to hear the names being called. They were still two letters away. I willed myself back into the moment and moved with you, willing you to come. My own body responding to the thrill of the current circumstances. Pomp and circumstances. I giggled and you shushed me. I was hot in all these clothes. I wanted to be naked. The robe started to slip and I plowed headlong into the wall when I took my hand off the locker to pull it up and out of your way. Your cock slipped out of me and I turned, back  against the wall. Grabbed your face in both hands and kissed you full on.

“I gotta go,” I panted.

You nodded but I could see your frustration. “I promise, I’ll make it up to you later,” I straightened my robe and gave up the frantic search for my panties.  “I’ll meet you in there.”

I dashed out of the locker room and made a beeline for the gym. I slipped in the side door as quietly as possible, catching a glimpse of my father watching me push past the knees of my classmates to reach my seat. He did not look amused. The door I had just come through swung open again and you entered, your cock and harness now concealed by your own robes. You nodded to your colleagues as you climbed the steps to take your place behind the dais.

When you called my name I stood carefully. I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. I held my head high as my classmates cheered and my family clapped loudly. I crossed the stage and reached out for my diploma. You shook my other hand and leaned in close, “You owe me for this, you know.” I smiled broadly. Oh, I knew all right. I knew.

DPR was here for a much too brief visit this past week. While we finally made time to get out of bed and do some sightseeing, we also managed to get in quite a few photo sessions. These two shots (don’t forget the click-through!) show off one of my favorite tee’s and a really fabulous pair of patent leather hot pants given to me by a friend recently. LOVE the zippers in all the right places. Don’t forget to visit Osbasso for more HNT goodness.

*CLICK*

If I have any loyal readers (well, I can think of a few at least) then you know I’ve been rather AWOL lately. And what I have posted has been mediocre at best. I am behind on everything including the literally dozens of product reviews that need to be addressed, some of which have been outstanding for months! I’m beginning to think I’m going to start getting invoices from these wonderful companies assuming I just took the products and ran with them. I promise, I will catch up.

In the meantime, there will be no Wicked Wednesday this week and likely I won’t get around to an HNT. I just haven’t got the energy or the motivation. I have been decompensating rapidly due to the stress of my upcoming move and it is all I can do to drag my sorry ass out of bed every morning with some semblance of sanity. That, my friends, is slipping. I am working all hours of the day and night, including the entire holiday weekend just past, and still I’m shy of my financial goals for the move by several thousand dollars. I have no idea where that’s going to come from. With barely five weeks left, even if I did get new work, getting paid in a timely fashion seems unlikely. I may be carrying my belongings on my back as my son and I hitchhike down south.

If you follow DPR’s blog at all, you probably think our relationship is all wine and roses and sunshine beaming out of our perfectly bleached assholes. Trust me, it’s not. It’s hard work being apart, it’s hard work orchestrating this move, and I sometimes wonder why she even puts up with me. I’m also surprised my kid hasn’t packed a small suitcase and tried to run away by now. I’ve become this total shrew. I am cranky and bitchy, I’ve lost my sense of humor, I snap at both of them, and I take everything personally. While DPR maintains this butch pollyanna sense of optimism, I sink further and further into the third circle of hell. Today we had a massive thunderstorm and I just sort of sat here and prayed that lightning would strike me down and then I’d have a good excuse to fuckitall.

I don’t quite understand what is holding me back from being all gung-ho and cheery about our impending move. There are 101 practical reasons to do this. Unfortunately, the closer the day comes the more I dig in my heels and want to live under the covers. I can’t remember a day without a migraine. I just never realized how much I’d grown to call this place home. I’ve lived in this state longer than I’ve lived anywhere in my life (and I’ve moved a LOT), but most recently, I developed a true sense of community here and some real friendships that I’m loathe to step away from. I swore that I would NEVER move back to the buckle of the bible belt. I did not want to live down south again and deal with all of the misogyny and homophobia that comes along with being there. Add to that the fact that my only sibling hasn’t spoken to me in almost 4 years and what we have left is…me moving into DPR’s life. Her life. Her homeland. Her family. Her friends. I love them all dearly and feel entirely accepted there but what I built here I’m abandoning. I finally got a sense of self and I have to hope that I can keep that self alive once I’ve made this 900 mile trek to where she is.

I hate to sound bitter. This month apart has been extremely hard. Harder than any other time we’ve spent away from each other. DPR is flying in on Thursday and the timing couldn’t be better. I really need to be sure of her. The phone just isn’t cutting it. Emails are scant and we don’t seem to know how to communicate this time around. I feel a certain disconnect that I’ve never felt before. I’m scared and I admit it. My love for her is strong indeed but my soul is weary and the tears flow too freely these days.

So, dear reader, forgive my absence for a bit. I need to take this time with her to cement our bond and find the strength to move ahead with whatever comes. If I can muster up the motivation, you’ll see a review or two, but I may not be back at the helm until next week—after my darling DPR has taken to the skyway one more time before she returns to help me pack my belongings and begin a life anew.