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Showing posts from 2020

Making A Naked Waiter

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  Making a Naked Waiter   When I saw this month's prompt, I selected a photo and worked to make a silhouette in order to play along. THEN, I looked at Molly's example pics and saw that she was looking for something a little different than what I had in mind.  But too late.   Anyway, here it is.   Happy New Year everyone.   Here's how to make a naked waiter.   Recipe for “Naked Waiter” drinks 3/4 oz Pernod® licorice liqueur 3/4 oz Mandarine Napoleon® orange liqueur 1 oz pineapple juice 4 oz sparkling bitter lemon soda Pour into an ice-filled wine goblet, and garnish with a lemon wedge.   In all honesty, I haven't had one of these ...   If anyone has tasted a naked waiter, I'd love to hear about it.       The original photo, for those who are interested, follows.  

still trying

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  still trying  To decorate ...  Merry Christmas! Wishing each of you peace during the coming year. Be kind to one another. 
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    a Christmas bedtime story   * no character one was left out intentionally, I just hit the "rhyming  wall".  'Twas the night before Christmas and all 'round the block not a creature was stirring, except for my cock It twitched and it itched and it flopped side to side I tried to control it but it would not abide.   The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, fishnets and lace ups that show some skin bare The Sinful Sunday team were snug in their beds; while visions of play toys danced in their heads   When up on my bed there arose such a clatter, I let go my dick to see what was the matter. When what to my wandering eyes did appear big breasts, soft breasts and a curvy small rear   They were led by a woman named Molly  with beautiful legs and laugh oh so jolly. Modesty, Missy and Elliot, Tom and his too were there,   all the doms and their subs were  prancing on air.    Ash and deviant and switch bitch too, All of the sinful group were here  all just for you.
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  Failed Decorating Failed Decorating    Anyone else having trouble getting into the Christmas Spirit this year?   Maybe it's the Covid Or it's the lack of snow maybe I'm all "grinchy" I really just don't know Christmas is a coming I've got a tree and all but all that I can manage is to hang a single ball        
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  Joyful DIY Project   A Joyful DIY Project  A couple of things from Krystal Minx's windows post (flip back to week 502 if you haven't seen it) inspired this very much tongue-in-cheek post.  That, and I was otherwise drawing a blank with the letter "J" prompt. Something you don't know about me. I have an advanced degree, (MMA). That's Master of Masturbatory Arts. I gave it to myself.   I thought that was the point. I'm working on my doctorate now.     
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  Rip Tides   In my underwater world,  it was warm, wet and blue. I pushed against the resurgent tides  and woke up in your arms.    
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 On Being Shown     [fact] Trust is a funny thing.    It doesn't always work the way one expects. Or the way one wants.  But without it, love can feel like a fast train to nowhere.    Being shown and vulnerable by your partner, is a trust and an act of love.   Showing you off is an act of love as well.  Both give and both can receive.  If they trust.    [fiction] I knelt on the pad at her direction and assumed the desired position. I knew from experience that my wait might be minutes or hours in duration – it didn’t matter. What did matter is that she had selected me to provide whatever intimate pleasure she ultimately desired. And it was that thought that kept my penis completely stiffened and on display for her periodic perusal. Her attention, while periodic in nature, was on my erection. She demanded a certain level of elevation and was sharp in her inspection methods. If she sensed a drop, she was quick to require me to provide manual stimulation under her supervision.
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First Snow     First Snow We knew it was coming. We could feel its quickening pulse, the increasing waves of wind and cold, the sharp slaps of cold front snaps and the winds gusting with increased ferocity.   Yet when it came it was without a bang, no thunder, no loud claps just a sigh. A whimper of submission and  a whisper of release.  It rolled over us like a down comforter pulled up to our chins. What was left was a silence. Everything was buried, burned up, used and depleted.   We wrapped ourselves in our thoughts and felt only the softness,  the moisture and the comfort of its passing.  We are together in the quiet.  Time to put on a jacket. And a hat. Please excuse the indulgence of posting two photos.   I wasn't sure which one was best for Sinful Sunday.  The first seems more artistic and you can see the snow, the second is more sexual and better shows my "real feelings".   Any feedback on which you prefer is appreciated. Thanks, JerBear
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  What feels good to me  I like to start by bouncing my limp dick in my hand and feel it gain weight as it fills with blood and starts to swell up. I’m a “grower” type so the change is rather pronounced – and exciting. If I whip my hips back and forth, my penis slaps against my thighs with a whapping sound. And that feels good too. At some point, the “swelling up” changes from making my dick larger to making it stiffer. It starts to lift itself up off my hand and point upwards. At this point there’s a disconnect between me and my dick. It feels like it is its own entity. And to a small degree, it takes over. My penis head is getting real sensitive now because it is pulled tight. So if I am lightly holding the shaft with my finger tips and swirling the head around my palm it feels like satin and it further increases its sensitivity. My dick erection will get even tighter and harder if I lightly drag my finger tips from the base of my shaft up to the head and then
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Windows        Windows   It's a humble house, but with million dollar windows. Well not the windows, but the views they provide. Overlooking a maple forest, the fall leaves burst forth and bathe your eyes in a color wash of green, yellow and red.    You can look out the windows, but you can't get through. You can look in the windows but you can't crawl inside.  Except for the windows of the soul. Then anyone with enough curiosity and passion can slide right in.       
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  Seasons & Reasons everything has a season, the apostle said. Having  gathered fruit from the  garden and hung it to dry I'm left wondering, just what season am I in?   But then you look at me, and once again I feel in bloom. Just you and me and the  promise of a new spring. 
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" it's all about the image…"  Shameless I know it's shameless to show you touching myself for your smile I do    
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  Sinful Sunday The female gaze.     I feel your gaze upon my skin as it crawls from crotch to chest and back there again. And when it finally rests at the object of its desire I stiffen from its heat. It studies every bump, wrinkle and vein as I unfold, lengthen and become hard. Standing straight up, exposed and unashamed I push against your gaze seeking relief. But for you, controlling my erection using your eyes and a few chosen words, is serious play and you work at it. Relief will come, but not against your gaze   I was inspired by last week's Modesty Ablaze's photo in the sun.   It'll be some time before it feels good to expose bare skin outdoors again.  
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  Sinful Sunday  Breakfast at Stiffany's This was more than I expected. And maybe more than Molly asked for.  I met my 'net friend, Claire Williams, on a CFNM (clothed female nude male) site. So her work in response to my request for an edited photo should not have surprised me.   I love her sense of humor and the way she has of gently putting my male ego in a place we can all enjoy. Clair wrote a short story to go with her work.  It follows the pic.  The only thing I'm uncomfortable with is that she switched my head with one from another photo.  She wanted it facing another direction. Still, that's just not right. Stiffany’s is one of my favourite hotels and whenever I’m working in the area I stay there for a day or two. The rooms are rather luxurious and the food is good. They are particularly renowned for their salads and the room service is excellent. My last visit was in the summer. The weather was hot so just before going to bed I phoned room service and as

Fall Demands Attention

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Sinful Sunday     The bright colors remind us of what is gone. The wet kiss of a summer rain, The suffocating embrace of the sun's heat, The smile, while returned, was never followed on. And the night chill warns of what is to come. The snow, the cold, the ice. A warm body pressed against your own, two bare skins trying to become as one. Love lost, love found.  Pay attention says fall.