June 9, 2014 by Nikki Blue
The marks from his hands were my tracks, the means to a dangerous high. The physical pain was only part of my addiction, and to be frank, it wasn’t something I wanted. It was, however, something I’d accepted as a key component in unleashing the powerful waves that drowned me in Mike’s touch and scent. They washed over me, intoxicating me in a way that no drug ever had. And that, it seemed, was the crux of my enslavement.
*Trigger Warning
Category Randomness | Tags: Blogging A-Z Spanking Challenge,Broken A Memoir of Sorts,coming of age,Nikki Blue author | 1 Comment
June 7, 2014 by Nikki Blue
Gray hair is a perfectly natural part of growing older, and I have quite a few. Sometimes I cover them with semi-permanent hair color; sometimes I don’t. I’m really kind of meh about it. I am a forty-something woman, after all, and I’m damn proud of my age. HOWEVER, gray pubic hair freaks me out. I don’t like it, and I trim my landing strip so close it’s impossible to see. If the fear of an aging snatch– visually speaking, of course –makes me vain or weird, fine, I’ll own it. And I confess that if I had a full bush, this would totally be me:
You’re welcome.
Nikki
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 Nikki. 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…
A GRAY FUCKING PUBIC HAIR
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.
~Heather
Category Randomness | Tags: Blogging A-Z Spanking Challenge,gray pubic hair | 6 Comments
June 6, 2014 by Heather Cole
I know. I know. Ladies don’t fart.
Right.
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.
~Heather
**************************************
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.
Nikki
Category Randomness | Tags: Blogging A-Z Spanking Challenge,farting,farting in relationships,ladies who fart | 2 Comments
June 5, 2014 by Heather Cole
Welcome to the Spanking A-Z Blog challenge created by SpankingRomance.com! Yes, we’re late, but that’s completely Nikki’s fault. She had a 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’.
Heather
*************************************
Ah, sweet, sweet semen… I mean ejaculate.
*ahem*
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.
Nikki
Category Randomness | Tags: Blogging A-Z Spanking Challenge,ejaculate | 4 Comments
May 22, 2014 by Heather Cole
“Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.” –Helen Keller
If you follow me on social media, you already know that my mama is one of my best friends and my life-long rock of support. Three weeks ago she had an emergency hysterectomy and was diagnosed with Stage 3 uterine cancer. Her oncologist called the cancer aggressive, and in the span of six days, all of our plans for the future and her life as we knew it fell into disarray. I felt like a fish thrown that had been thrown on to the bank of a river; I lay there gasping, unable to catch my breath or my bearings. The entire landscape of my life had changed in the blink of my eye.
Next week, my daughter will have surgery for a heart condition that she has had since birth. She certainly doesn’t act like a kid with a heart problem, but doctors have advised that we need to fix it now to avoid bigger problems down the road. We live near one of the best research hospitals in the US, and everyone’s hope is that this surgery will be her only one. Despite all the good that will come of it, the anguish I feel watching my baby undergo this process makes me want to rant and rave at the unfairness of the universe. Mama was supposed to make the eight hour trip to be with us during the surgery, but now it will be me and my beloved sir keeping vigil while Mama says her prayers from home.
Most days I consider myself an optimistic person, but this trifecta of challenges (my mama’s cancer, my child’s operation, and my sir’s imminent departure) have knocked me low. Like that stranded fish, I feel like I’m flopping every which way to try and find my way back into familiar waters. The things I drew comfort from in my various roles as daughter, mother, and slave now feel as if they’re in jeopardy. On my darker days, I fear that everything lies on the precipice of disaster.
If I could, I would take my mama, and child, and sir, and bind them all tightly to me so I could keep them with me and safe. Why is it that the three people most important to me are all undergoing huge life challenges while I can only sit beside them, hug them tight, and tell them that I’ll be there no matter what? Thomas Moore coined it “the dark nights of the soul” and let me tell you, darling readers, it is dark in these parts.
Being in this dark place makes it challenging for me to reach out to others. When someone asks how I am, the honest answer would be “well, I’m crying for the third time this morning, and my life is changing so fast I’m getting seasick.” Who wants to hear that? I certainly don’t want to hear those words AGAIN, so I shut my mouth tight and wrap steel bands of control around myself to keep everything in place so I can work, be a good mom, and a decent partner. Trying to keep the tidal wave dammed up never works for long, of course. I find myself acting out with sir; being willful and bratty. And the slightest unexpected change to my schedule sends me into a tailspin. The worst part is feeling insecure in my relationship with him. I’ve never felt so raw or vulnerable, and I begin to jump at shadows, thinking that every approaching person or potential play partner will be the undoing of our relationship. Logically I know that I’m being irrational, and yet, I can’t stop the feelings rolling through me. I would like to get off the emotional roller coaster now please, but I don’t think my ride is over yet.
I used to be confident about the path my life was taking, but now I’m afraid to trust the ‘everything will be all right in the end’ sentiment. Happiness is now distilled into single moments: my child’s voice lifted in song, my mama’s laughter on the other end of the phone, the strength of sir’s arms around me at night. Love fiercely, I tell myself. You have this moment now. Through the tempest of these changes, I will know my heart at least. I know who it belongs to. And my love for my mama, my daughter, and my sir shines as its own guiding light. Of that I am certain.
Category Randomness | Tags: cancer in the family,coping with grief,poly family | 22 Comments
March 23, 2014 by Heather Cole
I’m a big fan of Boobday. I love the curves of the ladies who participate and the various boob themes that Hyacinth creates with her sexy awesome mind. So when Hyacinth over at A Dissolute Life Means asked me to submit a boob photo for her anniversary edition, I was all OH HELL YEAH!
The theme for the anniversary post was Hyacinth, and I concocted two different poses that were reminiscent of Hy’s photos. One involved holding my grumpy cat to my cleavage which he was thrilled about. THRILLED. He’s probably going to eat my face off some night in revenge. The other pic is all boob in one of my favorite Hyacinth photos. So go on over and admire all the ladies and Hyacinth, of course.
Hurray for boobs!
~Heather
Category Randomness | Tags: Boobday,fabulous tits,photos of breasts | No Comments
March 20, 2014 by Nikki Blue
I’m THAT mom, the cool one– in my mind –who is wide open with her kids. The teen especially. She tells me things like I have a great ass for a white girl, makes a whooshing sound as she drags me across the floor while trying to pull off my boots after I’ve had one or three too many vodka tonics, and rolls her eyes super hard at the potty pic with my friend on my phone. I encourage her to make her own choices, whatever they may be, and never EVER let anyone make her feel less for them. I also tell her she’s going to make a fuckload of mistakes as she moves through life because it’s what humans do. But they’re her mistakes to make, and her responsibility to learn from them.
I’m as honest with her as I can be without scarring her for the remainder of her days. We have frank discussions about life in general, drugs, and of course, sex. She doesn’t run away screaming and she doesn’t bat an eye when it comes to asking me what most would consider uncomfortable questions about bodies and sexuality. But telling me about her first kiss was a different thing entirely.
I was at a party with friends when I was told the teen had been “making out” with her boyfriend during school. I was all like WHAT THE FUCK? THE TEEN DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A BOYFRIEND! I WOULD KNOW THESE THINGS BECAUSE SHE TELLS ME EVERYTHING! Also, vodka may have contributed to my stellar reaction. But my spidey senses said it had to be bullshit. For starters, the source was questionable, and the teen had kicked the aforementioned boyfriend to the curb weeks earlier for pressuring her to do things she wasn’t ready for. I knew this because she tells me everything, because we’re tight like that.
It turned out that she didn’t tell me everything after all. She burst into tears when I questioned her the following morning, confessing that it was true and begging me to forgive her for not being completely honest. When it came down to telling me, she was terrified of how I would react.
I was stunned, speechless even. I panicked, wondering what else she had omitted from our conversations. On the outside I stayed calm, but on the inside, my brain exploded with questions. Had she gone further? Had sex? How would I handle it if she were to get pregnant? What if she had me completely snowed? Was that even possible? Realizing I may have overreacted a little, I asked if there was anything else she had kept from me, anything I needed to know. And in the midst of hysterical sobbing, she swore there was nothing more than a kiss. Then she asked if I’d told my mother when I had my first kiss.
“Oh hell no,” I scoffed. “But we didn’t have a relationship like you and I do.”
“I know, but it’s still scary, Mom. You get crazy when you get pissed.”
Okay, so she had me there, but in the end, I wasn’t disappointed in her for kissing a boy. She’s fifteen for fuck’s sake. It was bound to happen, but I assumed she would tell me when it did. Truthfully, my feelings were a little hurt that she didn’t.
When she was an exhausted, snotty mess, I gathered her into my arms and attempted to tame her curly mane, reassuring her that she could come to me with anything, no matter how bad she thinks it may be. I promised her I would never judge her, I’d always be there for her, support her, and I’d love her to the moon and back. I also told her what an ugly crier she is, because I’m nothing if not honest.
Finally, she said, “You’re going to Facebook this, aren’t you?”
“Pfft. Duh.”
Category Randomness | Tags: first kiss,single parent,teenagers and sex | 5 Comments
February 7, 2014 by Nikki Blue
When Heather and I began Vagina Antics just over two years ago, it took readers some time to learn our personalities which were clearly very different from the start. This dude had it all wrong. Like big time wrong. But looking back at it, I’m not sure what I find more amusing. The part where he said Heather was “obviously the dom,” that we were the same person, or that I identified as a submissive.
<cue hysterical laughter>
**********************************************************
Dear Heather:
Is it hard keeping track of both persona’s? Nikki seems to disappear quite often so you are obviously the dom. Just an observation.
–Anonymous
Dear Anon:
This question made me chuckle a little bit, because I have a hard enough time keeping track of my own shenanigans. If I had to keep up with Nikki’s too…dear Lord, I’d never have time for anything else. The truth is that Nikki and I are two very separate, real people. She is my best friend, and I met her at the same time that I did my Master. In fact, in the early stages of our friendship, we joked about being a threesome. Like the Three Musketeers but naked and fucking. Oh, and not French. The specifics of our meeting are the subject of an upcoming post. You’ll get all the juicy (we like orgasms!) details soon. We “disappear” because both of us have demanding personal lives.
As to the Dom part of your observation, Nikki and I are both submissive in the bedroom. I’m submissive out of it when M is around, but most of the time we’re headstrong, stubborn and independent women. As Nikki has written in her post about eDoms, one shouldn’t make broad assumptions based upon the label “submissive.” This advice applies to all sorts of labels generally speaking, don’t you think? All of us are complex, contradictory humans.
Thanks so much for your question!
Smooches,
Heather
Category Randomness | Tags: Dominance and submission | 6 Comments
December 26, 2013 by Nikki Blue
I had every intention of writing this the day before Christmas, but because of boobs, I played catch up on shopping. It had nothing to do with procrastination, swear.
Stop laughing, Heather.
And can I just say how cray-cray stores (and people) are the day before Christmas? I was hit by a cart, stood in front of the Loud Family who constantly bumped against me in the most ridiculous line EVER, and I was stuck in a parking spot because the two people fighting over it were so close I couldn’t back out. I nearly lost my shit. But then happened, making it all worth it.
Then I said I’d post a festive note yesterday, but my kids were all like pay attention to us, BE WITH US, so I did.
So even though my timing is off, Merry Christmas from our vagina’s to yours!
Right, Heather? Heather? Are you still eating Heather??
Category Randomness | Tags: boobs,Christmas,sex muffins | 5 Comments
November 4, 2013 by Heather Cole
Fifteen years ago I bought a book about how to run a marathon, and I began to run almost every day. But then I stopped. I justified this up and down and sideways, but the bottom line was that I lacked the self-confidence to see my dream reach fruition. Around that time I met my ex-husband and got married, and my running dream was pushed further away as I tried to become the wife I thought I was supposed to be.
It turned out that my ex-husband wanted to run triathlons, and he set out to do so. I stayed home, though, because in his eyes I was too overweight to even attempt training for one. And since my self-esteem was already shaky, every critical word my ex spoke was like a nail in the coffin of my self-worth. He spoke aloud the secret thoughts I whispered to myself, so of course it had to be true.
If you have ever lived with a critical person, then you know what I’m talking about. Those ugly, belittling words became a part of how I viewed myself. As our marriage was ending, I thought my ex was right. I was overweight, unattractive and the choices I wanted for my life would always leave me alone, but some part of me knew that I had to get out if I was ever going to have a chance at living a life as myself.
At that point, I didn’t think about my running dream at all. It was buried with all the other things I figured I would eventually get to once I moved past the day-to-day-just-managing-to-hold-my-shit-together stage that many of us go through in the aftermath of divorce.
Two years later, my running dream returned front and center when two different men entered my life. I had mentioned my running dream in passing, never thinking that they would push it front and center again in my life. Although they had different approaches, they were my loudest cheerleaders. They both became part of the catalyst that made me pull on my running clothes again, and as I pieced together my self-esteem, they bolstered me with their confidence that I could DO this. Even when I thought running a half-marathon was impossible, both of them were absolutely certain I could accomplish this. And some days I believed them more than I believed in my abilities.
This past weekend I found myself awake at 5 a.m. and eating a Power Bar as LH made himself coffee. I felt giddy as I fumbled three times to get my timing chip tied in place on my sneaker. We watched the sun rise as we drove to where the half-marathon would start. It was perfect running weather, chilly and sunny with a slight breeze. I felt a mixture of excitement and anxiety and anticipation. I’m certainly not the fastest runner, but I don’t give up easily. I felt prepared, but I was also apprehensive about the last couple miles of the race. Miles 12 and 13 were uncharted territory for me. Although I had been hypnotized to help me break through a mental block I had about mile 10, I didn’t know what to think beyond that mile marker. I looked at LH and he repeated the words he had been saying since the beginning, “you can do this.”
In the television series Walking Dead, there’s a scene in the first season when a ‘herd’ of zombies comes shuffling down the highway. That’s kind of how it felt when the race started. I began towards the back of the pack. The fastest runners and those running the full marathon started at the front. Even after the shot goes off to start, it takes a little bit of time for everyone to get moving. And at the start, you’re shuffling around slower people to find your pace. At some point further along the race, someone had made a sign that said “RUN LIKE ZOMBIES ARE AFTER YOU.” Apparently I wasn’t the only one with zombies on the brain.
LH met me on the other side of the finish line to take pictures and congratulate me. I think my first words were, “that was the most terrible thing ever.” I was stunned and loopy at the same time, and part of me couldn’t comprehend what I had just achieved. It was later, after I had showered and devoured a plate of eggs and bacon, that it began to sink in that I had run 13.1 miles in an organized race. I had this uncharitable moment when I wanted to call my ex-husband and say, “Fuck you–I am more than you ever imagined. I am more than I ever imagined.” But the race wasn’t about him or his bad opinion. It was about me and making a dream my reality.
I know now, more than I ever did before, that I can do anything I put my mind to. Whether it be lose weight or sell a hundred books… I can do it. I’m only limited by my beliefs, and I’m through thinking I don’t deserve it or that I’m unworthy. I’m done living a limited life based on others’ perceptions of me. I have this one life, this one shot, and I’m going to do my damnedest to live it to my full potential. Watch out world, here I come.
Category Randomness | Tags: body image,fitness over forty,running | 11 Comments
