Monthly Archives: June 2013

Product Review: Invisible Companion Stretchy Ring

Synopsis: A stretchy cock ring with a powerful bullet vibe.

Freddy’s Review: I love cock rings. From metal to leather to silicone, I like the way they look and love the way they feel. Sure, they can have the effect of prolonging my erection and enhancing climax, but that’s all gravy as far as I’m concerned. The real pleasure comes from watching as my ringed package finds its way to the promised land, otherwise known as Eddy’s vagina.

The Invisible Companion is a clear silicone ring that stretches to fit any conceivable size genitals. It also has a second opening for a small bullet-type vibe (powered by 3 included watch batteries), easily manipulated to hit your lady’s clitoris or give some extra rumble to penetration. It bears resemblance to the Deluxe Techno Lover, which we also love, but without the hassle of having to put the battery in to activate and remove to turn off. Activating the Companion is as easy as turning the dial on the end of the vibe.

Eddy and I had the opportunity to use the Companion on a recent trip to Avila Beach, where we had our own hotel room (our son and his grandmother shared a separate suite). This allowed Eddy to let loose and really apply the pressure from the vibe to her clit as I slowly moved in and out. One of the nicest features of the stretchy silicone is the ability to move it in all manner of directions (or hold it still while I move) while it remains firmly in place – even as the action gets more intense. It wasn’t long before she hit her first orgasm and then recovered to come twice more before I let loose myself. On a separate note, I had just started practicing some techniques from a book promising to teach MEN to experience multiple orgasms, so this was great practice.

In summation, this toy earns our highest recommendation. It’s reasonably priced, powerful, and easy to use. The vibe is good quality and you should enjoy many adventures, both visible and otherwise, with this fabulous toy.

Interested in purchasing an Invisible Companion ring? Click here or on the links above.

Romancing Eddy – My Surest Thing

Alicia in the Bellagio lobby on our 9th anniversary smallWe ran this piece back in 2001, only a couple of months after starting Freddy and Eddy. We thought it would be appropriate to bring it back for those who may have missed it. – F&E 

By Ian Denchasy (Freddy)

If I’ve learned anything in my past experiences with women, it’s that we men seem to ignore their natures, while expecting them to accommodate ours.  We want excitement, experimentation, cheerleading outfits, handcuffs, anal sex, and the like, but aren’t willing to approach these goals in a manner that addresses the peculiar needs of most women. Sure, there are a few females out there who love sex so much that they provide the cheerleading outfits and handcuffs, but most of them are already porn stars. Or not with you. Or married to your best friend. For the majority of us, however, the women in our lives need a bit of coaxing to put that swing to good use.

Twenty five years with Eddy has taught me that almost all of my fantasies are within reach if I simply work a little bit in the romance department. And it’s not really work. Want to explore anal sex? Start with VERY light fingers around the VICINITY while you go down on her for an hour. It may take months of this before she’ll go further, but your patience will pay off. Want her to shave that jungle down there? Shave it for her and have her shave you as well (do you think YOUR overgrown mojo is any more attractive than hers?) Want her to get into porn films? DON’T make the first one a barely-legal schoolgirl taking triple penetration from guys with triton missiles between their legs. Get something with NO penetration, like the Playboy Couples series. Then move slowly into an Andrew Blake- directed film like Secrets. Want her to masturbate? Lay her on her back, take off her shirt, and show her how YOU do it. Softly rub the tip of your cock over her nipples and watch her tingle. Now hubbies, let me tell you how to plan a romantic evening guaranteed to have HER reaching for the toys for weeks to come. Ladies, take note…

Find out what your wife’s favorite cooking show is, see if cooking show host has a restaurant, and make reservation for two. In our case, Eddy’s favorite cooking show is Emeril Live. Emeril has many restaurants, the closest to us in Las Vegas. Of course, it’s booked solid months in advance, but I’m a persistent fellow and called everyday for 30 straight days begging to get in. I finally  wore them down on the 30th day and they granted a reservation. True, I pulled my final ace – it’s my anniversary – to puncture the heart of the reservations agent, but our resolve for our mates should know no limits. I then booked a flight to Vegas, Amex’d two tickets to “O” at the Bellagio and the plan was set. Oh, and all of this was kept highly confidential. I didn’t even tell any of our “good” friends for fear of the fatal slip/foot-in-mouth. I didn’t even tell the Mother-in-law, who would be babysitting in our absence.

The day before Operation Blow-Her-Away, I took Eddy shopping and told her to get a new outfit, handbag, and pair of shoes. The day of the actual trip had her sent off to a spa with manicure and pedicure. It was 1pm and I instructed her to assemble the entire package and get into the cab out front, which whisked us to the airport. Stunned, she boarded the airplane and we enjoyed some great conversation, peppered with compliments and constant smooching. She chose a very sexy little outfit and I couldn’t keep my hands off her! Happily, she decided against trying to guess what I was up to and just decided to sit back and let it all unfold…

And unfold it did. Dinner was spectacular (amazingly, the whole staff came out to meet the persistent husband who called 30 days in a row) and the Cirque Du Soleil unbelievable. Perhaps the greatest moment for me came when I turned my head for a moment to share my thoughts with another attendee. As I looked for Eddy, the noisy lobby went eerily quiet and my gaze was drawn to an unbelievably sexy woman standing under the glass foyer. She was so stunning that I just had to go over and wrap my arms around her – my partner of the last 13 years. It was as if I’d seen her for the first time, only better.

Now, one might assume that, after all that, I expected a sex-fest to end all sex-fests. Fireworks, Mt. St. Helens, and the Perfect Storm all rolled into one endless night of orgasms. But you know what? We didn’t have sex at all! After all that (and a plane flight home to boot), we barely had the energy to drag our tired selves into bed. And, for me,  that’s what made it so special. When romancing your partner (or anyone for that matter) you do it because the act of romance – not the result – is the payoff. And the sex that FOLLOWED that little evening? Everything I wanted and more. Anal? Yep. Cheerleading outfit? Yep. XXX videos? Yep. A regular occurrence. Our mojos? Neat and trim. Masturbation? Doesn’t all sex start that way?

In truth, that’s just one example of the many surprises I’ve sprung during our brief 13 years together. But the point is to always try to take your time and SPRING THOSE SURPRISES. Yeah, the 5 dollar bouquet from the freeway off ramp is nice, but why not then take those rose petals and surprise her with a hot bath filled with them? Chocolates? Sure. But how about some chocolate scented candles and soaps instead? And when it comes to sex, take your time and put HER first. Sure, there’ll be those times to rip each other’s clothes off and hump like crazy, but that’s not going to get that Batgirl costume on in the long run. Freddy

PS. Of course, the ultimate irony was that almost all of our friends’ husbands/boyfriends hated my guts for that romantic evening. It seems most of the men out there don’t think this sort of thing is MANLY. I’ll remember that the next time my wife rents a porno and takes me to a strip club.

Product Review: Happy Top Tickler Cage

Synopsis: A soft jelly sleeve that fits over the penis, providing extra stimulation to your partner and slight desensitization of the penis.

Freddy Says: Most reviews on our site deal with what we like to term, “heavy duty” sex products. That is to say sexy things like vibrators, dildos, and other higher purpose items that provide lots of orgasmic punch. Rarely, if ever, do we seek out the odd or kooky (for lack of a better word) offerings, despite the staggering array of such things dotting the sexual product landscape. These often fall under the category of “gag gifts,” more suitable for bridal (or bachelor) parties than serious sex play. It’s a shame really, that we’ve become so snobby in our old ages and we have since made the decision to widen the field, so to speak, and give a few lesser known things a try.

First up on this quest is the Happy Top Tickler cage, which is a variant on the age old French tickler. For those unfamiliar, the tickler was a device worn on the end of the penis, usually textured in some way, for the purpose of adding extra sensation during penetration of a woman’s vagina. As the tickler evolved, it often took the form of a condom with extra bumps or other protrusions, ranging from soft to firm, that could be worn during sexual intercourse to enhance the feeling at the vaginal opening (where most of the nerves are concentrated). For whatever reason, the French tickler fell out of favor, kind of like a fad, and hasn’t been much of a factor in the sex product market for some time.

Well, folks, we’re here to resurrect the humble tickler, starting with the Happy Top Tickler Cage, from Pipedreams. At only 8 bucks, the Happy Top provides a lot of fun, several uses, and the added benefit of desensitization along the way. It’s made of stretchy jelly material that can encompass even the largest of erections, is fun to look at, and can be installed and removed easily. Once on, it adds a slight amount of size, while the textured end gives a little extra stimulation to her privates. When we tried it ourselves, we immediately got a good laugh out of its appearance alone; and in practice there was definitely a different feeling to intercourse. Though we can’t say it made things any better, the Happy Top certainly didn’t hinder sex in the least. As a side benefit, wearing the stretchy device slightly desensitized things and helped extend our love making.

So our recommendation is to grab a Happy Top and throw some fun into your next interlude. Heck, maybe the French tickler will experience a resurgence – let’s get it going! 🙂

Interested in purchasing a Happy Top Tickler cage? Click here to visit our online store – your purchases help keep this site free for everyone!

Erotica: Sometimes I Hate My Body

Sometimes I Hate My Body

By Hyacinth Jones

“You ready?” He stood in my apartment, his gym bag over his shoulder. I was dressed in my work clothes still.

“Yeah, gimme a sec.”

He followed me back to my room and flopped down on the bed. Faisal jumped up to purr and meow and twist himself about The Neighbor. I peeled off my barely opaque white v-neck and my breasts bounced.

“Mmmm,” I heard from the bed. I flexed my abdomen and tried to push my insecurities away, focus on this man’s approval. I bent over to roll my skirt down over my hips and sucked in my stomach hoping the swell didn’t pooch out too much.

“That’s right baby, show me those tits.” He watched me beyond the end of the bed as if I were on stage; I clenched every core muscle I owned and stood up straight and smiled as I reached behind me to unhook my bra, trying to look nonchalant and confident. His eyes followed my every move as I tried to morph my body into that of a lithe dancer’s: arch my back, pull my shoulders back, face the audience, be lean and beautiful.

I gathered my workout clothes and scrunched up again to thread my legs into my leggings and cringed at how much I must seem the Michelin Man from the side. I imagined shaking it off, these thoughts invasive and cruel. Where was this coming from??

TN had stretched out on the bed and begun to absent-mindedly stroke his bulge. I tucked my breasts into the little shelf of a sports bra and said, “You know, I was about to jerk off when you knocked a minute ago.” I walked around to the side of the bed. ” There’s still time before class starts.”

The ugly voice inside my head was shouting at me, relentless. I felt awkward in my skin, undeserving, foolish for all of it. Orgasms can be my reprieve from such thoughts. TN didn’t spark them when he dropped by, he’d only walked into a snarling ant pit of self-loathing.

“Well, then let’s get going on that,” he replied as he watched me reach for my Hitachi.

I rested my knee on the mattress and planted my foot on the floor, my left arm straight and strong as I pressed the vibrating head to my crotch. Instantly I was on the magic carpet ride up, up, and up. TN had a front row seat to my cleavage cradled in white, an expanse of belly which I allowed to be whatever it was going to be — though I hoped it looked flat and muscular — and the swell of my hips encased in transparent Lululemon-like yoga pants.

He moaned a little and kept rubbing. I kept my eyes latched onto his hand, then I felt his free hand sweetly trace my breasts. “Is this ok?” he asked.


But it lasted only seconds.

Instead he pulled his shorts down and flopped out his erection, big and juicy before me. His hand began to whir and the sound of fap fap fap deliciously filled my ears. My ride was spiraling its way to the clouds, my lashes fluttered, I could see him staring at me as if I were a unicorn passing outside his window.

The orgasm shook me and just before it stole my breath I managed to whisper, “I’m gonna cum!” knowing it turned him on more than anything.

He quickly and neatly replaced his cock beneath his layers of clothes and pulled me into his arms. I hung on to his middle and laughed, waited a minute then pulled my shit together for the gym.

We worked out side by side, muscles bulged, faces red. I stared at myself in the mirror hating every goddamned music-pumping second of it. The orgasm relief had been fleeting — as I knew it would be — I was again beating myself down.

Other women in the class were athletic specimens, all narrow hips and beautifully wide shoulders, firm buttocks and roundly muscled arms. I was…. not.

I caught TN’s icy blue gaze on my cleavage in the mirror more than once, an appreciative gleam in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to protect me from myself. Yes, I thought, I have nice tits, but what about the rest of me?? I resigned myself to the Pig-Pen-cloud of low self-esteem and smiled wanly to the other class members as we put our weights away. I really just wanted to go home and lie down. Maybe die a little, hide under a rock, whatever.

When I get like this, seized by self-doubt and hate, I undoubtedly make a decision that will support this belief. That night, it was making Mac n’ Cheese out of a box for dinner — something I rarely eat, but will always make me feel at once comforted and like a complete failure. I ate 2/3 of the box in bed while watching The Taste, took a shower, and texted TN for our nightly cuddle. I wanted to skip it altogether, but he’d asked me to text him and so I did.

I lay there anxiously, tired, a pain pill shivering through my veins. I heard him snap his fingers through my darkened apartment and appear in my doorway. He removed the kitten, shut the door, turned out the overhead lights and flipped on the closet light for ambiance.

“What’s going on?” I asked, nervous, irritable, feeling like utter and complete shit.

“I’m going to fuck the shit out of you, that’s what.” He came around the side of the bed and dropped his shorts. I reached out for his erection and it bobbed hot, thick, and clean in my palm. I chuckled half-heartedly and rolled away from him, my whiteness stark against the aubergine bedding.

“What are you doing?” he wondered aloud.

“Making you work for it,” I answered. He growled and pounced on me, wedged my knees apart and slid deep inside my body with one easy stroke. His clean strawberry dusted body thrust into my own vanilla scented one and we made a warm body dessert out of two naked people.

I clung to his hindquarters with my legs and wrapped my arms around his broad, fuzzy back; he grunted and kissed my neck and collar-bone. When he sat up to hitch my ankles on his shoulders I refused. My irritation and discomfort with my body had grown — my belly felt rounder — and suddenly, the fucking routine that went missionary-to-folded-in-half-to-orgasms seemed tired and only stoked my irritation.

I slipped my left leg between his knees and turned on my side. He held my right leg with his hand and nailed me to the headboard. I cringed when thoughts of Troy crowded my sad, addled brain — this had been a favorite position of ours. I quickly rotated again to my belly and I heard the soft smacking of our bodies on my bottom and Troy thankfully exited stage left.

From his new vantage point TN brought his free, lead hand down on my flank. Three excrutiating times. I cried out and went rigid, the sting down to my bone, and then I was granted a reprieve when he got a charlie horse and was forced to stop. We laughed at his misfortune and pulled apart.

I lay next to him and rubbed his massive hamstring chatting easily. I was waging a stupid little war with myself and decided to let him in on the secret; I felt shy and worried about opening up to him about my self-loathing and odd flash of low self-esteem.

“I feel really bad, TN. Like out of control. I don’t like the way I look all of a sudden. I hate feeling like this. I feel so stupid and dumb.”

He crooned to me and pulled me into his arms and tried to rationalize my irrational behavior. “Maybe you think you’re fatter than you are because your tits are so big,” he suggested not unhelpfully.

“Maybe…” I murmured.

“Hy, you’re very sexy and I think you’re extremely beautiful: your tits, your ass, especially your face.” I flushed at the compliments and with shame for needing to hear the words.

I thanked him and took a deep breath to embolden me to open up more. “So, there’s something else.” I heard him hold his breath a little. “When I’m in this kind of mood — feeling down on myself — what I really want is for you to throw me around. But,” and his low timbre joined mine perfectly, “I/you don’t know how to let you/me know that’s what I/you want.”

“Right,” I nodded into his chest.

“Well,” he said sitting up quickly. “Telling me to work for it is kind of perfect.”

He grabbed my wrists and I said quietly, “Work for it,” and held his gaze.

He repositioned himself between my legs and I tried to wriggle away, but he had me pinned. I was tired, yet thrilled at this little game before he had to leave and before I passed the fuck out under that rock I’d been pining after earlier.

He slammed into me, stroked me from the inside and nuzzled my neck, gripped my wrists like he was hanging over a cliff and I came once then twice with big, round blooms of pleasure. It was fast and fierce. Perfect.

He pulled out abruptly and I lay there bathed in light from the closet, my thighs rested on the tops of his as he sat on his heels. He ran his hands up from my hip bones to my ribcage and across the soft, mostly-flat plane of my belly. He groaned approval and apologized that he had to go. I nodded assent and assured him I was ready for him to leave.

He came around the side of the bed and wrapped his hand around my throat, tilted my head back as if to give me mouth-to-mouth and gently suckled my lips, his tongue soft and pliant while his hand gently squeezed — a kiss so unlike his usual hard, punishing, immobilizing goodbyes. I melted away into those lips of his surrounded by a little sea of scruff.

And just like that, for that magical moment, the cloud lifted and I felt a bright, shiny love on me, my idiocy be damned. “G’night, Hy,” he said as he left. “I’ll lock the door behind me.”

“Good night!” I called out after him and then whispered smiling, I love you, as I have begun to do nightly.

The terrible feelings about my body and my looks were there when I awoke the next day and I am still waiting for them to subside. I have committed to health, not looks, and I refuse to fall victim to the old bully of self-loathing. I love my body and what it can do; I love my tits, my hips, my little pot belly. I don’t know where this sucker punch has come from and I don’t know how long it will stay, but I’m going to do my goddamned damnedest to get rid of it. Fuck it to hell.

I’m hoping lots of cuddles and fucking are just what the PhD ordered.

See more hot stories at Fleshbot Fiction. This story republished with permission from A Dissolute Life Means…. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. See more busty belles on the job at Big Tits At Work.

Cheating – It’s Never, EVER, Justified

You may think you’re justified, but no matter how you rationalize your decision to stray, you are firmly in the wrong.

By Ian Denchasy
Aka Freddy

Have you ever found a wallet with money inside? If so, what did you do? Did you attempt to return it, using the wallet’s contents to lead you to the owner, or maybe hand it in the the nearest police station in the hope the owner would eventually retrieve his property? And if you took any of these type of actions, did you leave the money inside?

How you handle situations such as this gives great insight into your moral character. There are some who would simply remove the cash and throw the wallet in the nearest trash can. Others might take the cash, then follow up by using any credit cards inside to make purchases. I’ve had friends who have returned wallets intact, then blatantly asked for monetary compensation as a reward or simply removed a portion or all of the money and said that’s how they found it. Obviously, there are dozens of possible outcomes and each solution will ultimately be determined by the individual’s overall moral compass. The answer seems so clear – make every attempt to reunite the wallet with its owner and leave it exactly as you found it – yet so many people will not take this action. Maybe the person who finds it is broke, jobless, and/or homeless and needs the money desperately to survive; perhaps there’s only a small amount of money inside and one can rationalize that the owner won’t miss it. What would you do?

I like to use this example when making points regarding cheating as it illustrates the point of character. Conducting a sexual dalliance outside your committed relationship, like finding a wallet, has many different permutations and is a measure of your character within that framework.

Having been in a successful marriage for almost 25 years (as of this writing), we’ve now been together long enough to have observed several relationships fail for a variety of reasons. As most research studies continue to prove, the top two reasons for breakups are financial hardship and infidelity – in that order – and our own observations cruelly bear witness to these conclusions. In fact, if we had to go by our own, unscientific accounting of breakups we’ve witnessed, adultery definitely tops money in the divorce hierarchy. Cheating, whether it stems from wholly understandable problems or fatal character flaws on the part of the perpetrators, rarely leaves anything but a swath of destruction in its wake. Trust is destroyed, families are torn apart, friendships and community ties are affected; it hardly seems worth it, no matter how rational the reasoning for straying seems. Are we truly so cowardly as to be unable to confront our partners, be honest in our desires to seek love outside what currently exists, then craft a solution that doesn’t involve lying?

The answer is complicated, obviously, and most relationship problems are less blatant than they are festering. Issues (especially sexual) that seemed trivial in the early going amplify over time if not properly addressed and as the initial excitement wanes, reality sets in and the hard work begins. Day to day life as a couple can be fantastic, of course, but even in our own marriage there comes times when voices raise, stands are taken, and things get thrown through the air. With regard to affairs, most actually have very little to do with the act of sex as much as a lack of attention and intimacy (among many reasons). Our romanticized version of love and fairytale visions of eternal happiness don’t help, as any course corrections that impede the love ideal can be more than many can handle. So much so that there are individuals incapable of sustaining healthy couplings beyond the adrenaline-fueled initial relationship stages and, like junkies needing a fix, must move from partner to partner. Whatever the rationale, excuse, or impetus, however, the decision to cheat is one that we simply cannot accept – in any case – and one you shouldn’t, either.

To clarify, the definition of cheating should be understood as any action sexual in nature that is willfully undertaken with the intent to deceive your partner and/or without your partner’s knowledge that exceeds agreed upon boundaries. We allow for forgetfulness to an extent; one can’t be held too much in contempt for simply forgetting to mention a lunch date that has no consequences, but, when you clearly feel a sexual spark with someone who isn’t your partner and then act on that impulse you are in violation your commitment and now clearly in cheater’s territory. At that moment of willful decision, you have crossed the line. Even in cases where you have explicit permission to see another person, if your intentions exceed those outlined to your partner, you are lying and cheating. If you go to a massage parlor and receive a “happy ending,” for example, without mutual agreement that such an outcome is acceptable, congratulations, you have cheated.

Obviously, the first step in avoiding cheating is to define exactly what it is – together. As I mentioned previously, if you willfully engage in sexual behavior without your partner’s knowledge or consent, you are breaking his or her sexual trust and cheating, regardless. This is not to be confused with the sexual/physical act itself, standards of which can be negotiated between each party as to where it falls in the acceptability scale. In our marriage, we’ve had detailed conversations over the years about what individual acts constitute adultery/cheating and revisited those standards from time to time. From the aforementioned massage parlor scenario to being alcohol impaired at a bachelor or bachelorette party, we’ve attempted to dissect the most common scenarios for straying and come to agreement on whether or not they exceed our threshold for breaking trust and being willful deception. Polyamorous couples, who allow for multiple sexual partners into their relationships can still cheat. We have our own allowable acts (a happy ending massage does not exceed our sexual boundaries while a blowjob is forbidden), but knowledge beforehand of any outside intentions, and subsequent agreement, is required.

The foundation for any partnership, be it marital or otherwise, is deeply rooted in trust. This may seem obvious, of course, but it goes beyond the cliches and therapy slogans of daytime talk shows. If you really want your relationship to succeed, there can be no untruths – period. Having sexual adventures outside your relationship without the blessing and knowledge of your significant other is cheating, pure and simple, and never justified.

Erotica: Old Habits Die Hard, by Brooke Stern

Colin, 40, successful, dark, handsome, and my new boyfriend invites me out to dinner the night before he leaves for his business trip. It will be the first time since we started going out a month ago that we’ll be apart for more than two days. We want to have a good night before he leaves. It feels even more important to make it special because last night wasn’t a good night at all. I really upset him and I have a bruised bottom to show for it. I hate for this to be your first impression of our relationship. You’ll just have to believe that as weird as it sounds, spanking is something we both like and it helps us. We’re in love and Colin makes me happier than any man ever has; it’s just that I told some lies and they almost ruined everything. It began right after I met him. To make a long story short, there was a boy who was on his way out, but I kept him around as an insurance policy in case Colin dumped me. Well, Colin found out. When I finally confessed the truth, I was sure Colin would dump me, but he didn’t. Instead, he spanked me. I don’t have to tell you how much it hurt. It was a real spanking for a real reason. I didn’t know whether it was really a good way to deal with the problem, but afterwards it felt more intense and more intimate than sex ever had.

“Can you forgive me?” I asked him after I stopped crying.

“If you can forgive me.”

I reached out and he leaned over to hug me. He knew how far he pushed. With the spanking, he was telling me how difficult it was for him to stick around after what I did to him. The spanking was his way of making me notice him, of making me see who I had hurt by what I had done. I thought I could never understand how hard that was for him. I thought I’d never understand how he could forgive someone who had hurt him so. I even worried whether I’d ever really believe that he had forgiven me. But after the spanking, forgiving him after he’d hurt me so badly, after he’d been so intentionally vicious, I understand exactly. I forgave him and could believe that he’d forgiven me. I cried for a long time when I thought about how close I was to losing him.


So, tonight when I step out of the cab and he’s there to take my hand, I smile and hope as hard as I can that tonight will be perfect. Antonio (Colin is on a first name basis with the maitre d’s at all the restaurants we go to) takes us to a private table in the corner. The restaurant is fancy and full of people twice my age, but being with Colin makes me feel comfortable. We talk a little about his trip. I miss him already. The waiter comes around. Colin orders a glass of wine and I order a beer. The waiter asks to see my ID. He looks at it for a long time. All the bouncers at the bars where I’ve worked have said that my fake ID is the best they’ve ever seen. It’s from Michigan and belonged to someone I once sold weed to. I gave her a freebie for the ID because her picture looked just like me. I’m sure he can’t tell it’s not mine, so his scrutiny doesn’t really worry me. Besides, at nice restaurants like this, no one really cares.

“Actually, we’ll just have some mineral water,” Colin says to the waiter, who shrugs and gives me back my ID.

“For some of us, breaking the law would have serious consequences,” he says to me in an icy whisper. What’s the big deal? No one cares about a stupid thing like… Then I realize what I’ve done. After all the business last night about honesty and not lying about who I am. Oh, shit. Plus, he needs to be squeaky clean to do for his work. He’s not some twenty-year-old slacker like me. He doesn’t have a police record or a mom who bought liquor for him when he was fourteen like I do. That’s my world. In his world, it would look pretty bad to be arrested for taking a twenty-year-old girl out for beers. He doesn’t even know about my suspended sentence and how much trouble I’d be in if I were caught. I’d go to jail. Why didn’t I think about it? He knows that I’m not 21 and that I’m not from Michigan. I didn’t even really want a beer; it just seemed like the thing to do. I was pretending to be something I wasn’t and it’s gotten me in trouble. Again.

With a few quiet words to the waiter, he makes a graceful exit from the restaurant. Now I see why he doesn’t get in trouble. That’s why I like him. That’s why I need him. On the way out, he apologizes in whispers to Antonio. I know what’s coming. I remember all the talk about the consequences of my actions. Thoughts rush through my head: my sore ass, promising him I wouldn’t lie again, the threats of a worse spanking if I did. I was good for all of ten hours. What’s wrong with me? Why did I order that beer? Why? Why? Why?

I hope the walk will last forever, but soon we’re back at his apartment, back in the room where I got my first spanking. It’s the room where I’m about to get my second spanking. He’s firmer tonight. He doesn’t need to reassure me that it’s safe or that he’s trustworthy. I know that. Nor does he really have to explain the spanking I’m about to receive or why. He was so elegant and affectionate when I arrived at the restaurant, but he’s angry now. I know he’s the same person. He’s angry with the thoughtless Lauren, the one who’s late, the one who breaks laws, the one who acts like she doesn’t give a shit. I’m so used to my what-the-fuck attitude that I don’t even realize when I’ve slipped into it. No wonder I’m always in trouble. It makes me scared, scared of myself and scared of what he’s going to do to me.

“Please, Colin. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I’ll throw it away. We all do it. The drinking age is so ridiculous. Please, Colin. Don’t spank me. I’m still sore. Remember how good I was this morning. Don’t do it again. It’ll hurt too much.”

“You should have thought of that before,” he says sternly. I wasn’t thinking before, I want to protest, but I’m thinking now. I’ll think next time. Really.

You can’t do this to me. I’m not some little girl you can do whatever you want to. This isn’t some stupid foreplay thing that can happen every night. No way.

I stand still, unwilling to move. I’m stubborn and sullen. I look at the floor. He’s surprised by the change in me, but I can’t help it. He wants me to stand in the corner, but I won’t go. He digs his fingers into my arm and pulls me. I stumble over, practically making him drag me.

“Bend over,” he says, and I refuse. I don’t want to be spanked. I’m too sore and it’s not fair. He didn’t tell me he was such a hard-ass that he couldn’t break some stupid law that we all break every day anyway.

“Bend over, Lauren,” he says again. “You’re only making it worse for yourself.”

I won’t. He tries to take off my skirt. I grab the zipper in my fist and won’t let it go. He struggles with me for a minute. I’m not thinking of anything except keeping him from prying my fingers off the zipper. Specifically, I’m not thinking about how exactly this will make it worse for me.

Suddenly, he leaves the room. Now I’m thinking about what he meant by worse. I’m scared now. What have I done? I know I could turn around, leave the corner or even leave his apartment, but now I breathlessly want to be good. Is he going to get something to spank me with? I’m sure it will be something that will hurt more.

I quickly unzip my skirt and step out of it. I hope he’ll see I’m trying to be good. I wonder if I should pull down my panties, too, but he hasn’t told me to yet, so I don’t. Then I wait. My mind flies from fear to fear. I feel a bit of sweat under my arms and wetness between my legs. I’m startled when I hear his firm voice tell me to pull down my panties. Even though I’d almost done it a minute ago and I still want to be good, the scared part of me comes back and I hesitate. I’d do anything not to be spanked, but in the absence of any way to escape, postponing it seems like the next best thing. I don’t know why I’m fighting him, but I can’t help it. I don’t want the pain. It’s going to hurt so bad. I don’t want it. It’s not fair.

I pull my panties down a few inches, not even to the bottom of my ass. I know this isn’t what he wants.

“All the way.” I pull them down to my knees, embarrassed even though he’s seen it all before.

“Now bend over.” I incline slightly, dipping my head. My hair falls into my face and I hide behind it.

“All the way, Lauren Richardson,” he says with derision. “Grab your ankles.”

God, I didn’t expect to hear that. I’m too flush with surprise and arousal at his dominance to fight him. As I grasp my thin ankles, right on top of the pixie tattoo, I feel my ass way up in the air, the cool air reaching all the way inside my crack, which is wet from nervous sweat. Bending over like this pulls my ass taught, causing the sore skin to ache. Suddenly I hear a loud crack and feel the horrible sting of his hand landing hard on one cheek. He’s skipped the light start, the lecturing and the buildup. That was as hard as anything I got last night. I get five more on the same cheek before he switches to the other and gives me the same thing. Each smack is so loud. I know he’s not even begun. It’s just a taste to remind me of how it’s going to feel. He wants to command my respect.

I feel him back away, but I remain in the same, bent-over position. The silence is too much, though. I’m filled with fear. I wish I’d cooperated. I can’t believe what I’ve done.


I’m beginning to cry, not from the pain, which is over, but from the overwhelming anticipation of more.

“I can’t stand it. That hurt too much.”

When he called me earlier today, he asked me on the phone if last night’s spanking had hurt too much. I told him it hadn’t. Now I wish I had told him that he has to be gentler with me. My skin is so sensitive. It’s like years of thinking about spanking had made my ass sensitive to the slightest touch. It can’t hurt other people this much, not as much as it hurts me. I can’t stand how much it stings. Now I’m really going to get it. Why do I do this to myself?

“I won’t do it again. I promise I’ll be good. I was just trying to…” I was just trying to act grown-up so he’d like me. Grown-ups order beer, don’t they? If I keep talking, I know I’ll start to sob.

“I was hoping we could have a nice night before I had to leave.”

He’s not comforting me. He’s stern and disappointed. I know I deserve it. I want to feel loved, but if I’m really going to believe he loves me, I’m going to have to let him see the real me first, even the 20-year-old, prone to lying and hiding from the truth parts. I can’t feel like I have to order the right thing for him to like me.

“I knew you’d be sore and I didn’t want to have to spank you again. But you’ve shown me how badly you need it. Tonight I’m going to spank you with my belt. Maybe that will help you behave yourself when I’m gone.”

For a moment, I think that maybe, just maybe, the belt won’t hurt as much as his hand. How could it? Maybe he thinks it’s worse but really it isn’t. Maybe he wants to use his belt because his hand is too sore from last night. Maybe he’s afraid he won’t spank me hard enough if he uses his hand. I hear the metallic clinks as he unbuckles his belt and the swish of the leather against cloth as he pulls it through his belt loops. I guess I’ll find out soon. I wonder when he’s going to take me across his lap, but then I worry he’ll make me stay here bent over like this, with my asshole and pussy spread way up high.

“Come over here and bend over the arm of the couch. I’d keep you bent over like you are, but I don’t think you’ll be able to keep your balance when I’m using the belt.”

My panties fall to my ankles and I wobble over to the couch, ashamed. I bend over the cushioned arm. I stretch my hands out in front of me and squeeze them into fists. I promise myself to keep them far from my bottom to make sure my punishment doesn’t get any worse. He folds the belt in half and grabs onto the buckle and the opposite end. I feel the limp leather brush against my ass as he lines up his stroke, then I feel the rush of wind a fraction of a second before the sting of leather splits my ass in half, setting it on fire and digging deep into my fleshy cheeks. Ow. Shit. Oh, fuck. My fingers spread involuntarily outward in panic. He doesn’t pause long. There’s another and another and another. Oh, my God. Damn. Fuck. The belt crosses my entire ass except when he alters his stroke so the fold in the belt lands in my crack or wraps around my thigh. I’m panting loudly, my breath short and jerky. He’s relentless and there’s not time to recover. The spanks keep coming and I’m crying but there isn’t even time for that, so my cries come out clipped. I squeal in ways I didn’t even know I could until the belt sears my flesh it a particularly horrible way. I tip forward over the arm of the couch and kick my feet in the air. My panties fly off my ankles. I don’t care about the spectacle I’m making of myself.

“It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Stop. Stop. Stop.”

Whatever I say, I say quickly. There’s no time for sentences or explanations. The belt isn’t loud, not like the sharp smack of his hand, but I hear the soft whistle it makes through the air. When I hear it coming, I clench my ass involuntarily, even though it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Sometimes, he lowers his arm so the belt comes from lower down. When he aims for my thighs, the belt wraps around and skims my pussy lips, causing a new kind of sting and a new kind of fear. So help me, it feels like my labia absorb the full sting of the wicked blow. I stand bolt upright, panting, and grab my ass with both hands. The skin feels different from last night. It’s covered with ridges. I can feel the each welt that the edge of the belt made. My smooth skin is bumpy when I rub my fingers over it. I feel my pussy. It’s warm and tender on my labia where he hit me. I’m soaking wet.

“You have to stop. I can’t stand it. Don’t spank me there. Not there. I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do anything.” And I’ll promise anything, but I know the awful truth. I do need this; I can’t be good; and my respite, even as I need it and am recovering as the burning fades, will only make it worse for me.

“I was almost done, but now you will get another two minutes. More if you so much as flinch. If you behave the way you do, you’ll have to learn to accept the consequences.”

How many times have I heard that in the last twenty-four hours? How many more times will I have to hear it before I can change? He puts his hand on my shoulder and gently pushes me back in position. Why did I have to stand up? When he starts again, harder than before, his anger at me makes me cry even more than the spanking.

“You promised me you’d be good just a few minutes ago, but you can’t even behave through your punishment. I know you want me to stop, but I also know that you’ll forget your pleas and promises after it’s over. You think you can’t take anymore, but I know you can. You keep telling me you can’t stand anymore. Well, I’ll show you how much you can stand. You take the easy way because you don’t know how strong you are. After this, you’ll remember what you’ve endured on that red ass of yours and you’ll realize just how strong you can be.”

I don’t feel strong now. I feel so weak. I’m not lying when I tell him I can’t stand anymore. I want it to stop. I’ll never be glad for this. It hurts too much. My tears soak the couch cushion, spreading across my face and wetting my hair as I writhe with pain. This time I have no words or thoughts. His belt skims my pussy several more times. Each time, I feel a shiver of panic, worrying whether I can survive, whether I might split open or bleed. What if I have to stand up again? What if I disappoint him and he never finishes punishing me? I need him to finish. I need it to be over.

“Ten more,” he says.

I remember last night and know that these will be the hardest. The whistle of approaching leather seems longer, like he’s taking longer strokes so the belt will be going faster when it cuts into my ass. He takes more breaks between strokes and I try to fill the time by telling myself that it will all be over soon, that afterwards he’ll hold me and I’ll feel so much better for it. I know it’s the truth but it’s no consolation. I can’t talk myself through this. No words can assuage the savage pain. At seven I begin to scream with each of the strokes, which are farther and farther apart. He gets my labia for the last time at four. Three, two and one are deliberately in the very same place, concentrating the fire along a single line and making it linger there after he’s done. I lie there crying until he takes me and guides me back to the corner. I know this spanking has been shorter than last night, but it’s been so much worse. I just want him to be like he was after last night’s, but he makes me stand alone in the corner while he talks to me.

“Please, Colin, just hold me. I need you to hold me.”

“You need to stand in the corner and think about what you’ve done, Lauren. You need to think about what you can do so you don’t need this when I’m gone. I can’t always be there with you.”

How will I make it without him? How can I be strong when I’m alone? All this has shown me is that I can’t be strong unless he forces me to. Why does he even bother with me? I’m hopeless. I just want to sit in his arms and cry.

Instead, I stand in the corner and knead my tender, fleshy ass. I finger the welts. I’m sure he likes to watch this, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything now except not being spanked again.

“Don’t touch it!” He orders sharply. I let forth an involuntary sob. His words hurt me. His disapproval is like further punishment. Can’t I do anything right? I don’t know what to do with my hands so I cross them in front of me, my fingers resting on my abdomen just above my pubic hair. I begin to think about what’s in my head rather than what’s on my ass, and I’m not sure which hurts more. I suppose this is where he wants me to be. He doesn’t want to comfort me yet. There’s discomfort I have to learn to live with, and pain he won’t always make go away. It’s trying to escape life’s discomfort and pain that gets me in trouble. I just want him to hold me and tell me it’s all right. I want us to have a happy dinner together, like a normal couple. I don’t want to be such a fuck-up. I don’t want to need this so badly.

Finally, when I’m too deep in my head to even notice his approach, he comes over and wraps his arms around me. He takes me to his bed and holds me. He speaks to me softly and affectionately.

“I’m so sorry you needed such a severe spanking, Lauren. There are things that you do without thinking of their consequences. You can’t live like that, darling. I care about you too much to let you ruin things.”

“OK,” I sputter, my breath still jerky from quiet sobs. “Please don’t be mad at me, Colin.”

“I was angry because you were thoughtless. I just need you to think about what you do. I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“I was so scared, Colin. You sounded so angry. I thought you really wanted to hurt me.”

“Oh, darling. If we couldn’t be together because of something you did, that would hurt us both so badly. I do this to prevent that. I’m just sad that you feel like you have to lie so much for people to like you. It only makes things worse. I like you just the way you are. You have to be yourself for us to be happy together. You’re such a wonderful girl underneath it all. I know it must be so hard for you sometimes, but you can’t pretend to be something you’re not.”

“I’ll try, Colin.”

But it does seem hard. It’s something I’ve never done before. No one’s ever wanted me before.

Everyone has always wanted me to be someone else. What’s a fake ID compared to faking a whole identity? Some women fake orgasms; I fake my entire life. Being me promises to be hard, not least because I have to be me, but I have to be better, too. I can’t lie or bullshit or run away. In other words, I can’t be the old me. I know I won’t get it right the first time or maybe even the hundredth time. I know I’ll be here in Colin’s lap again.

“I can’t do it by myself, Colin.”

“I’ll help you. I promise.”

Brooke Stern  is the pseudonym of an established writer who has master’s degrees in literature and psychology and whose fiction, essays and reviews have been translated into eight languages.  “Old Habits Die Hard” is adapted from Brooke Stern’s first novel, Suffering the Consequences, which can be purchased at Chimera Books or Amazon.   Email Brooke.

Sex Fact Monday…

Sex Fact of the Day … Semen on the menu? … Oral sex is beneficial for women’s well-being and makes you feel cheerier. Studies show that seminal liquid contains chemicals that uplift mood, raises affection, bring sleep and also comprise at least three anti-depressants.

Product Review: The Tongue Vibe

Synopsis: A tiny, waterpoof vibrator encased in silicone gel, with a band to fit around the tongue for oral sex purposes.

Freddy and Eddy’s Review: OK, so this product is a blatant knockoff of the TongueJoy, albeit in a much less expensive iteration, so we approached it with a great deal of skepticism for the sole issue of replication. However, due to its lower pricepoint, ability to go beyond the afforementioned Tonguejoy’s oral sex leaning, and the manufacturer’s (Empire Labs) decision to include TWO of them WITH extra batteries, we put aside our prejudice and tore into the packaging like two giddy kids on X-mas morning.

The Tongue Vibe is a tiny vibrator encased in a soft silicone sleeve, from which a band is attached to allow one to stretch the object around the tongue, regardless of size. It can also be used as a cock ring and finger vibe in a pinch, giving the Tongue Vibe a nice versatility not found on many adult products, in general. Battery life is very good, with the two LR-41 watch batteries still going strong after over 10 uses. As stated in the previous paragraph, Empire Labs includes a generous FOUR extra batteries with the two Tongue Vibes, with another nice touch being a handy plastic carrying case to keep everything together and organized. Oh, and did we mention the thing is waterproof AND glows in the dark? They certainly didn’t leave much out.

In operation, we can only say we loved everything about the Tongue Vibe. Its two speeds worked well to warm up and send our female half into orgasm, while the band kept the vibe firmly in place on our tongues for all kinds of oral fun. We must emphasize we really put the Tongue Vibe through its paces, using it for finger pleasuring, as a cock ring (where it did fine, but not as competently as say, a Screaming O), and even solo. In every instance, we enjoyed having it around and its compactness put it into our travel plans when we visited Santa Barbara one weekend. To return to our original comment with regard to its similarity to the venerable TongueJoy, we felt the extension of the Tongue Vibe’s range of uses distinguished it as a product that can stand on its own merits. True, the Tongue Vibe will never match the elegance of the its metal forebearer (nor the level of intense power, due to the TongueJoy’s ability to connect to an external power source), but sometimes a good orgasm is enough to overlook such extravagance.

In summation, this is a must-have adult item and you certainly won’t be disappointed with including it in your orgasmic arsenal.

Interested in purchasing a Tongue Vibe? Click here to visit our online store or here to visit Empire Labs’ website.

Sex Positions 101: The Aussie Awakening

Type of sex position: Seated.

Sex position degree of difficulty: Advanced.

The position of the penis can make this one awkward. The male starts on his back with his knees bent. The female sites upward with her legs at his side. From here, they grab arms and rock back and forth.



Sex Positions 101: Sausage to Go

Type of sex position: Rear entry using chair.

Sex position degree of difficulty: Intermediate to advanced.

The male should be behind the female and both of them should have their knees on top of the chair. Female’s legs should be kept together for extra friction and leaning forward provides depth.