Grab Life by the Balls!

Sometimes you just gotta get a grip on things.

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What turns you on?

Can't say there's only one thing that does it. Women always ask if I'm a breast man, or if I like legs or asses better. It depends on the owner, really. Or maybe it's feet, fuck-me pumps, flats or sandals. Could be a hot pink thong or a pair of white cotton panties. A summery dress or a business suit. Long hair, a short bob or purple highlights. Could be a wide mouth with a perpetual smirk and laughter in her eyes.

I remember one gf had fine, delicate hands that reminded me of a china doll. Sure, I like hand jobs, but for some reason, with her, the thought of it became a virtual obsession. I couldn't keep from imagining her hands working my stiff erection to a satisfying eruption of hot, sticky cum. It was damn-near maddening to have that thought in my mind whenever we got together.

Sometimes a particular fragrance simply screams hot sex, but if another woman wore the same scent I might not even notice.

I just never know what will do it for me next, but I always enjoy finding out.

The Gift (a bit of fiction for a Wanton Wednesday)

"What is it?" She asked, a note of apprehension in her voice.

"It's a mask."

"I can see that but what is it? It's ugly. It's frightening."

They were huddled together over a catalogue he had brought home from the leather store. In it, were items catering to nearly every fetish imaginable; boots, pants, skirts and jackets; briefs, bras, corsets, garters and stockings; whips, paddles, riding crops and switches; masks and gags; hand cuffs and restraints; and a variety of dildos, clamps, rings, chains and assorted other toys the uses of which could only be guessed at. Each turn of the page was like opening a Pandora's box of dark, erotic fantasy, of pleasures both sinister and wonderful.

She felt a queer, delicious thrill coursing through her, as she looked at the pictures with him, wondering about the strange toys and their uses, the people in the pictures and the thought that he and she could be just like them. She could sense in him the same excitement, that same naughty thrill which made her heart race faster. It was like musk, seeping from his pores to linger and mix with the scent of his skin before filling her nostrils and quickening her pulse. She knew for a brief moment they were sharing the same hidden desire, unashamed by it, encouraged by their mutual attraction to something so forbidden.

My Roberta Pedon Squidoo Lens Got "Locked"

What you see below is the content from the Squidoo Lens I set up about Roberta Pedon. She was a pin-up queen from the seventies, and I thought might hold some appeal to fans of retro culture. I tried to be careful to select images that weren't offensive, however, the puritanical powers-that-be at Squidoo decided my content was too "Adult"  or "X-rated" and shut me down. 

Since I can't display it on Squidoo, I'm presenting this and any future retro-erotic content here without censoring myself. Enjoy!

A Rival, Perhaps, to Bettie Page?

One of the most recognizable nude models of the 70's, Roberta Pedon burst on the scene for a few brief years, captured hearts and imaginations, then mysteriously disappeared. The record which remains of her exists in the numerous photos traded around online in various forums or sought after in the now highly collectible men's magazines in which she appeared.

At first glance her most obvious asset was her slender, busty figure. However, it could be argued that, like Ms. Page, Roberta Pedon's chief appeal as a model was due to the way she lit up most pictures with her charm. Her slightly crooked smile and her way of gazing into the camera as though meeting the eyes of the viewer evokes the same mystique as that of Bettie Page. The two women also tread along similar paths as aspiring actresses forced into toiling just beyond the fringes of legitimate entertainment. In today's society, where porn has taken a more prominent position, and in some cases crossed over into mainstream culture, this isn't as great a stigma as it was in the 50's and 70's. For both women, the nature of their circumstances likely resulted in a certain amount of isolation and silent suffering.

Handy Work

I'll never forget that first time my girlfriend Darlene caught me jerking off. It's something every guy lives in fear of I'm sure. I mean, we've all done it, and might even admit to having done it, although none of us wants to say we still do it while we're in a relationship. But whether I'm in a relationship or out, I still take time for me. No matter how much sex I'm getting I always crave a little more. Which is how she found me one wanton Wednesday morning.

"Oh my, what are you up to?" Darlene said, a broad grin lighting up her pretty face as she perched on the edge of our bed. Having surprised me, she laughed, enjoying my predicament. "Don't stop on my account. I've always wondered how you guys do it for yourselves, maybe you can give me some pointers. Left or right-handed, full fist or finger-tips?"

Even though her reaction was friendly, good-natured even, I felt positively mortified. I might have thought of pulling the covers over me and pretending this hadn't happened, but there was no denying she had caught me. And even though I felt drained of any feelings of arousal my penis stiffened reflexively, standing to attention, rigidly saluting Darlene's presence. She touched me, casually running a finger along the length of my penis.

"I'll bet you thought I was well on my way to work? Good thing I'd forgotten my lipstick and had to come back." She kissed the head of my penis and then my lips before grabbing her lipstick off the night table.

"Too bad I don't have time to watch you now, but we'll pick this up later. Depend on it. You know I can't let go of this." She fixed her lipstick, smiled and blew me a kiss. Before putting her lipstick away she traced a ruby streak along my penis and winked.