Tantrika Samois' Blog

Mule: a sterile, cross breed between a horse and an ass.

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He felt huge. 

Like a swollen rod of unrelenting and unapologetic desire that would not be refused entry into the promised land of sensual bliss through the reception of my body, it pushed further in until it could go no more and then I pushed back on it to receive more of it.

Discomfort and slight pain sparked around our union, like electrical strikes arcing between us in spite of the ample amounts of lubrication applied. My ass had become a gateway to forbidden pleasures and deep, yielding release. My pussy had already been pounded into sublime submission. His cock was an army with a battering ram of desire, demanding entry and weakening the wall of resistance that separated me from the crowning jewel of my orgasm. His erotic siege upon my orgasmic autonomy while we moved and grasped in a tangled, writhing mass of skin, flesh and sweat climaxed into a gushing outpouring of womanhood raining down upon him as if to refresh him from his efforts and tamper down some of the fire that had built from so much friction.

After the liquid nectar of womanhood escaped and lay everywhere around the root of his tree like a rain that brings with it a flash flood, everything else then softened with it and opened up, hungry for more of what had been discovered. My pussy and clit throbbed madly like the echo of a drum beat after a congress declaring war had been beaten out across the desert vista with smoke signals and warnings to nearby tribes. The pulsing throb kept its own time; an instrument of erotic music and at the same time, my ass shyly opened and whispered longing and surrender but only if he could hear it.

A finger slipped in. A scouting digit giving…

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Kentucky boy blues.

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Long ago, 

I met a man quite by accident. I was leaping over a puddle on the street trying to get to a parking meter before it ran out of time so I wouldn't get a ticket on my car. And while attempting to break the time-space continuum in high heels while wearing an equally restrictive plaid, pencil skirt and deceptively conservative, white button down sweater I nearly tripped on the sidewalk and into the wet grass.

As fate would have it, I instead tripped right into the arms of a broad shouldered, chiseled jaw, devilishly handsome man who looked down at me with such a mischevious, delighted grin that I wondered if he was so very pleased because my practically falling into his arms like a scene from a movie was part of some city-boy-voodoo that he had cast upon me from the inside of the cab he had just arrived in.

I am not immune to romance, Magic. And beauty. I have an enduring belief that the world is operated by invisible strings of fate and destiny and the invisible world around us is more reliable than the tangible one that we must navigate. I don't know if I believe in love at first sight although I do believe it is possible for a few folks in this world. I do believe in gut instincts and visceral attractions that have their roots in far bigger pictures than the laundry list of "ideal partner" we all carry around in our heads and measure people by. And this unexpected moment had all the elements of romance and magic around it. Enchantment was inevitable.

He reminded me of my father. And not in the sick or simpleton way that people of lesser intelligence or imagination like to try and define it…

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Sex Ed 101 and a refresher for graduates.

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Have a great morning!



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It is so hot, my panties melted off.

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Or they would if I were actually wearing them. 90 degrees farenheit - and with humidity, the heat index puts it between 90 degrees and somewhere before the legions of Hell have broken open and spilled out onto the sidewalk.

In the meantime, I am contemplating shaving my head to cool off my brain. The only thing stopping me is that I would look like a cabbage patch doll without hair. For those of you who have no idea what that is, it means I would look like a Jim Henson muppet. A bald one. With big tits. :-p

I just realized there is almost a 20 year difference between myself and a would-be suitor in the normal world (I will not go there with him for reasons having nothing to do with his age and everything to do with having nothing to offer me except flattery and regret. I stopped trying to date "normal" males like a "normal" person a long time ago and am much better off for it, in many respects. Lucky you AND me, eh?) Almost 20 years. I guess I am getting (more) better with age than I thought. If only this meant that MY sugar daddy wasn't going to be in the age bracket that puts him somewhere between nursing home and death. After all, I would like to enjoy him some before the fun and games end! LOL ;-)

In other news, our #45 puts the moves on the French President's wife in his ever so gracious and charming way. I would be laughing more if I weren't so horrified by the lack of class, the lack of respect and the complete and utter lack of awareness of how insulting his behavior is to any woman who isn't sucking up to him for…

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