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Posts Tagged ‘Blogging A-Z Spanking Challenge’

  1. L is for Learning

    June 12, 2014 by Heather Cole

    If there is one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that I will continually learn new things about myself. I thought my sexual awakening in my late teens was “the big one.” Little did I know that I would have a second, more profound, sexual awakening in my late thirties that would literally rock my world. I thought I knew everything I had to about sex, and I thought, for the most part, that the rest of my life was going to be the occasional, after church, missionary, twenty minutes for the rest of my days. I learned that missionary didn’t have to be the rule, nor did monogamy, and I learned how to find happiness in and out of the bedroom. I’ve learned the my sexuality is fluid as is my sex drive, and I strive to learn more about my partner in order to be a better partner.

    The L-word coincides nicely with June being Adult Sex Education Month. And if you immediately retorted, “Heather, I already know everything I need to know about sex,” then YOU in particular need to read more and explore. Especially if the core of your sex education came from the public school system. Get thee to a sex education blog! Quick!  The more you learn and discover about your own sexual self and sex in general, the more you realize there are holes in your education. And IN you. Heh. Holes.

    Personally, I’m striving to learn more about gender equality. I’m a fan of Laverne Cox, a trans person on Orange is the New Black. (She also made the cover of Time Magazine–and dayum!) In a recent interview, Katie Couric asked her “when you think about the ideal scenario for the trans community, what would that look like?” Cox replied, “I think it goes beyond the trans community. It’s for everyone to have spaces for gender self-determination. I think the idea that one is always and only the gender they were assigned at birth–that idea needs to be challenged. So that we’re not stigmatizing, objectifying, sensationalizing, or criminalizing transgender people, but celebrating them. And celebrating everybody who has the audacity to be themselves and to live authentically.”

    Laverne Cox makes my heart go pitter-pat, and she’s brought the trans community more front-and-center for me. I realize that some people are still struggling to accept gay marriage. Well, sweetums, gender equality should be the next thing on your To Learn List. It’s definitely on mine.



    As a sex-positive blogger who is a single parent of a teenage daughter and a son who is on the cusp of hormone hell, I’m learning that I have to communicate about sex in a whole new way. It’s a super huge responsibility and awkward at times, but it’s my job to make sure they’re properly educated about all things sex. I have to choose my words wisely, though, because they will be the ones that form their opinions. Like the time the teen brought up the topic of anal sex. I’m still learning how to answer their questions on a level they can understand and sometimes I fuck up, because I’m human.



  2. K is for Kissing

    June 11, 2014 by Heather Cole

    The first thing he does when he comes home is hold me. His arms envelope me in strength and security, and he rests his cheek on the top of my head while I settle myself against him. Our time together has taught me where I fit best, and my body instinctively moves so that I can touch as much of him as possible. The excitement of his arrival smooths into contentment as my breathing slows, his heartbeat strong and sure against my ear. My hands meet at the small of his back, and I sink into the moment. His lips brush my forehead, my ear, and he kisses the curve of my neck. His lips brush my skin like butterfly wings, the sweetest of kisses. As I press the length of my body against his, I wish that I could hold our moment in my hand to keep forever. Time slows, and we arrive in the moment together.

    I am home.




  3. J is for Jump

    June 10, 2014 by Heather Cole

    You’re probably wondering how Van Halen fits into the A-Z Spanking Challenge, but trust me, it totally does.

    Big hair, tight pants, and a lot of jumping around in the back seat of a beat-up Camaro… that would be me, not David Lee Roth–he had a tour bus. OK, so my hair wasn’t very big despite my best efforts and a small fortune in Aquanet. I also lived in the country where cows and pigs were my closest neighbors which didn’t help my social life. I yearned to be cool.  No matter how much I listened to Motley Crue, I was thwarted by an uncommonly wholesome upbringing. I wasn’t an openly rebellious wild child. I was the good girl next door, but I learned that I couldn’t resist a bad boy. Add some Van Halen and a muscle car, and my panties were history. (Yes, smartasses, at one point in my life I wore panties.) Hair Bands will always have a special place in my heart, because they remind me of that time when every boy offered a new sexual frontier to explore. Parked on a dirt lane with only the moonlight as a guide, I began to discover my sexual self.



  4. G is for Gray Pubic Hair

    June 7, 2014 by Heather Cole





    Before I met sir, I was more devoted to visiting my aesthetician than I was the dentist. My ponynose was near and dear to my vagina (obviously) and my heart. I loved being bare down there. When I became sir’s slave, one of the first things he wanted me to do was grow out my pubic hair. Boy howdy, did I resist. I hemmed and hawed and threw a hissy. I had yet to learn that the more I protested a particular suggestion, the more sir became enamored with it. So I agreed on the surface that I would comply with growing a bush, but secretly I trimmed and shaved when I was alone. It was growing… but really reaaaaalllly slowly.

    Everything was going according to my plan until I accidentally snipped my labia with a pair of scissors as I tried to tame this one extra-long pube. You can imagine my phone call to my bestie. There was a lot of blood and shrieking (me), and I’m pretty sure she laughed through most of it. I had to tell sir. There was no way I could have vaginal sex (it would rub with every movement) until the cut healed. Sir didn’t laugh, but he told me I could no longer be trusted with scissors. I cried, but he was resolute. My carefully coiffed pubes went from barely there to retro bush in just a couple weeks. And that’s when I saw it…


    I don’t see it now though. In fact, I went into the bathroom only moments ago and checked for absolute certain. And no, there’s no gray pubic hair. My bush is silky and dark blond. It was probably the light hitting a particularly luxurious strand or something. Maybe I was drunk. At any rate, I’ve decided that I don’t believe in it. It’s like the fabled Sasquatch of my bush. A mere rumor to spook explorers in the area. There’s no scientific evidence of the alleged gray pubic hair exists. Seriously.




  5. F is for Fart

    June 6, 2014 by Heather Cole

    I know. I know. Ladies don’t fart.


    It happens, though. Let’s all admit it and get over it already. The more sex you have in various positions, locations, conditions… the human body makes noises. Our physical selves have reactions to a myriad of stimuli, and it’s natural to respond. Take deep throating, for example. Have I puked on sir? Yup. I don’t advise shoving a cock into the back of your throat after indulging in Taco Tuesday. Just sayin’. I wanted to be good at deep throat which meant practicing enough that I conquered my sensitive gag reflex. Well, a fart is to your anus like puke is to your throat. YES, THAT MAKES TOTAL SENSE.

    I realize that sir and I have reached a place in our relationship where body secretions and noises are par for the course. He takes things in stride, knowing that my body can’t help its responses. And I do the same for him. For heaven sakes, I have to high-five the man when he rips a really good one in bed. So that should mean that I can do the same, right? Well, no.

    Because ladies don’t fart.

    Here’s the hysterical story of one woman who did.



    Okay, I’m going to dispel Heather’s statement about ladies farting– I don’t fart. Like ever. That’s impossible, you say? Well, it’s not. I’m a southern girl and we’re just not allowed. I’m fairly certain the ability to fart is stripped from our DNA in the womb. I do, however, burp. A lot, and loud. Because I’m fucking classy.

    Moving on…

    Mr. K has a thing about farting in front of me– he’s embarrassed to do it. And in the course of our two year relationship, he’s farted in front of me once. ONE TIME, y’all. But that doesn’t count the nights he’s farted in his sleep.

    Shhhhh, don’t tell him I said that. He would DIE.

    Recently, though, he had an epiphany, if you will. I have hearing loss and Tinnitus in my left ear from way too many years of way too loud rock music. Also, it’s genetic. That means that unless I’m watching your lips move when you speak or if your voice is a certain tone, chances are I’ll miss a lot of what you’re saying. But Mr. K has finally realized the advantage here and has decided he’s going to start farting in front of me– I won’t hear it anyway.



  6. E is for ejaculate

    June 5, 2014 by Heather Cole

    Welcome to the Spanking A-Z Blog challenge created by! Yes, we’re late, but that’s completely Nikki’s fault. She had a book to release and all that. You’ve bought it, right? RIGHT? So forgive us for missing A is for Anal, B is for Bisexual, Breasts, and Blowjobs (preferably all together), C is for Cunnilingus, and D is for Dominant Dicks. Just kidding about that last one. Today we’re on E, and ejaculate happens to be one of my most favorite things…

    Let me be more specific. The ejaculate that belongs to the man I love is my favorite thing. When I was dating more than one man, I loved all their jizz. Yup… all y’all. I guess I need an emotional connection to the penis in order to love the ejaculate. (And there goes my career in bukkake.) But once I develop feelings for the penis(es) and the man(men) attached to it(them) I willingly and enthusiastically take that come anyplace/anywhere which explains why I sometimes take it in the eye and in the marble bathroom at the ballet (Holy Echo, Batman).

    Most recently I was in the bathroom with sir… I was on all fours with him behind me. I could tell he was close to orgasm and a tiny part of my mind was anticipating where he’d finish. The rest of me was preoccupied with how euphoric I felt and the sensations that surrounded our joining. Suddenly I felt his fist wrapped in my hair, and he hauled me up on my knees. I gasped as he came, the warmth of his ejaculate coating my back. It felt raw, almost primitive. And I felt completely owned.

    Although we climbed into the shower and he soaped my back, we missed a little bit of ejaculate at the base of my neck. I got to wear it under my clothes for the rest of the day, smiling and remembering the incredible morning.

    Pro Tip: I relish wearing come, but for those of you that don’t, SCRUB it off immediately with soap and water. Otherwise it’s sticking around, and you won’t notice it until it’s dry and flaking off. If that happens to be on your face… well, expect some comments. Just sayin’.




    Ah, sweet, sweet semen… I mean ejaculate.


    Studies show that the average man produces anywhere from .01 to 10 milliliters of ejaculate when he comes. If that’s true, Mr. K is above average– WAY above average. And I try my best to swallow it all when he ejaculates in my mouth, but it’s hard. Heh. Hard. He comes so much that it runs down my hand and it gets into my hair. Hell, it even comes out of my nose.

    Come bubbles are totally a thing.

    I love everything about Mr. K’s ejaculate– the smell, taste, feeling, and the sheer volume of it. He loves the taste of it too, especially when I feed it to him from my pussy. He didn’t love it, though, when it got all in his eyes as I sat on his face, and do you know why? Because that shit burns, y’all.