Getting it up

undiesPitching a tent. Getting a boner. Sporting a chub. Having a hard on.

All slang terminology for getting an erection.

As a 40 year old woman, I’ve been around the block enough to have encountered both hard wood and soft wood.

My first experience with soft wood was at UCSB, my freshman year.

I was flirting heavily with Kyle, a resident in the men’s hallway flanking my women’s hallway in my dorm.

Kyle was a tall, handsome volleyball player from San Diego who was quite the flirt. Having never been particularly successful with women in high school, he was delighted to hit college (at upwards of 6+ feet tall) and discover a gathering of women who were all into him.

I think Kyle was well liked and well shared amongst the women in my hallway.

My friends and I were eating dinner in the cafeteria. We were discussing soft wood and I bragged that I’d never encountered soft wood in all my 18 years. Oops. Bad timing.

That night when Kyle and I fooled around, he couldn’t get it up.

He’d clearly had too much to drink and it was a case of whiskey dick, but he gave me my first taste of soft wood.

He made up for it later by waking me up to a very compromising activity.

Fast forward years ahead. I’m dating a member of a football team.

He admits he’s addicted to oral sex (who isn’t?) and I discover why.

The man can barely get it up. And certainly can’t get it hard enough to actually do the deed.

There really is not a lot worse than getting ready to have sex and discover that all the parts aren’t working.

I had an older boyfriend who was so afraid of this happening, he would take a preemptory little blue pill before lovemaking.

As women, our Turn ON is not visible on the outside and the consummation of our passions doesn’t always require that all our parts go through a pretty significant transition. If we want to do it, but we’re not fully in the mood, we can always fake it. Not that I’m encouraging that.

For men though, the parts need to work to consummate sexual activity, at least in the classic sense.

I have a lot of empathy for men who struggle to get everything working properly.

The nice thing is that there are plenty other things that can be done to enjoy each other, even when the equipment malfunctions – toys, mouths, hands, fingers, massages, etc.

Think extended foreplay until you…

Naturally, I’m impressed when I’m with a man who can go and keep going until I’m worn out. But my point is the other side of the spectrum isn’t so bad either, provided there’s no serious underlying health issue.

Getting it up is not the end all, be all to lovemaking.

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Kiss and Tell

With this blog, I struggle sometimes on how much to write about my adventures and escapades.

After all, it’s not an anonymous blog. I post links to my Facebook page. My birthmom reads this blog for goodness sakes.

It might be okay for her to know that Austin gave me an massage, but does she really need to know the details of what he did to me FROM BEHIND?!

No, I didn’t think so either.

And when it comes to blogging other people, sometimes I use aliases and sometimes I use real names. It all depends on the content of what I’m writing, the exposure on the blog, and whether or not I have permission. I ask myself, “do they read this blog and would it bother them?” Most people get an alias based on that alone.

Occasionally, you may see a blog titled “OT:” These are password protected posts with more explicit content.

If you’d like to read them, you need to email me at michelle@unblunder.com and ask for the password, which I’m happy to give.

Just be advised, the posts are explicit and will TURN YOU ON.

Still Single

Yes, I’m still single.

I know you would like me to meet someone but I have to tell you, more than ever I am really comfortable and embracing my single status.

I’m certainly having a lot of fun as a single woman.  My latest adventures are a testament to that.

And now that I’m OMing, I have an orgasm practice in my life – kinda like yoga.

But beyond that, OMing has brought some real, meaningful friendships into my life with both men and women.

And I find these new connections incredibly fulfilling.

So yes, I may still check my Match and POF emails periodically.  They are, by the way, brimming with messages from men as if they sense my shift in attitude and newfound happiness.  But I’m not in contact with anyone.

And I’m just fine with that.

I’m hoping to find a man who OMs (or wants to learn).

Mind. Blown.

Saturday, my adventure to kayak the Elkhorn Slough was cancelled due to rain.

I missed OM Day in the City for nothing.

Sad face.

But I did have another date with Charles… Charles from “After the beer making there was the ____ making” and “The one where I lounge with great music and great friends…”  I was wearing a long, fitted black dress with a black leather jacket, sky high platform heels and black fishnet stockings (thigh high, natch).

We met at his place for a preliminary romp :-)

What? Sometimes a girl is insatiable.

Then we met up with our friend Jack at McGraws Bar in Belmont. The food was spectacular, the beer was great, and the company was amazing.

We left before the end of the Giants game to get to Steel Heart Dance – a pole dancing company in South San Francisco. The Cirque Noir was putting on their annual extravaganza.

And boy was it extravagant!!

The women blew me away with their confidence, sexiness, and athleticism. The performances were incredible sensual and provocative.

I especially thrilled when the dancers climbed to the top of the poles and did their routines hanging upside down or leaning away from the pole.

Gasp!

But my absolute FAVORITE performance involved two women – ostensibly dressed as an angel and a devil – doing ballet like moves while hanging from a ring suspended from their ceiling.

Yeah, two girls in one ring!

Mind. Blown.

After the performance concluded, we socialized a bit. Ironically, we ran into a group of One Tasters at the performance, and I think it piqued Charles interest in OMing.

Then we left and went back to Charles’ place for round two of post-pole dancing fun.

Mind. Blown.

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Why you should sleep naked

My highly scientific research has identified the following benefits to sleeping naked:

  1. More sex
  2. Decreased appetite
  3. Increased sensuality
  4. Air out your hoo-ha
  5. Increased brain function
  6. You’ll get smarter
  7. Your boobs will get bigger, if you’re a woman
  8. Your cock will get larger, if you’re a man
  9. You’ll win a million dollars
  10. Chris Evans (Captain America) will declare his undying love for you and tattoo your name across his abs
  11. Cameron Diaz will come to your house and clean it in her underwear
  12. Swedish bikini models will move in next door
  13. Your wrinkles will disappear
  14. You will lose 30 pounds
  15. More sex, More Sex, MORE SEX!

Panty Raid

I have a huge lingerie collection – upwards of 7 drawers full of bras, garter belts, panties, bustiers, corsets, stockings, bodysuits, and chemises.  And that’s not including the costumes…

It’s impressive, even by Victoria’s Secret standards.

Periodically, I run out of space in my bureaus and I have to pare down some of my collection.

The black panty with the red lace heart window and garters always stays.

costume2

As a woman, I have tiers of lingerie – levels of cotton, lace, and satin which increase in sexiness as you go up.  It’s a so-called pyramid of lingerie.

At the bottom of the pyramid is the period underwear.  These pairs are so bad that no one is allowed to see us in them.  They can sometimes be stained, occasionally stretched out, and definitely not anything you want to be caught dead in.  You were these when you’re feeling gross and bloated.

The next level is the comfortable lingerie – these are your plain cotton panties, your Fruit-of-the-Looms, your gym underwear.  They’re your business underwear – all work, no play.  When you want to be comfortable you wear these.  No necessarily meant to be seen in, but it’s not the end of the world.  You’re not dressing to impress.

Up one tier we encounter the Fredericks of Hollywood and Victoria’s Secret lingerie.  This is your standard sexy lingerie which looks good on you but still eventually fades and semi falls apart because it was made in China.  Still, you remember when it was sexy so you keep wearing it.

Finally, you have your top tier lingerie – La Perla, Elle Mac Pherson, Agent Provocateur, Eberjey. and Faire Frou Frou.  These aer your drop-the=jaw, shut-the-door, mama-and-daddy-are-getting-it-on lingerie.  They are the pieces that when we put then on we fee instantly sexy (and they hold up over the years because they were mad in Italy and France).

They are the pieces that when we put them on we feel instantly sexy.  Like a Pussycat Doll on a mission.  Not all of these pieces have to be expensive.  I have a hot pink slip from Target which makes me feel like Marilyn Monroe.

If you catch my in my top tier undies, chances are you’re getting lucky.

Just writing this makes want to go inventory my lingerie drawers and post pics of me and my favorites.

But since I’m away from home, I’l have to be satisfied posting my boudoir photos again.

Yum yum.

P.S.  I have a small but impressive collection of vinyl that makes me understand the meaning of the word fetish on a cellular level…

 

 

Sexual Sounds

I have been self-conscious for a long time about the way I sound in the sack.

For one thing, I’m not very loud. It’s not that I’m quiet (I make noise), it’s just that I don’t make all those loud, guttural moans that I hear women in pornos make.

And since starting my OM practice, I’ve discovered first hand how LOUD some woman can be IRL.

Hey, I’ve tried to be loud. I’ve “faked” it with partners before. Every time I felt like a fraud. Did you know that if you spend too much time working on creating what you THINK an orgasm should sound like, your orgasm will RUN AND HIDE.

Too much higher brain, not enough limbic brain.

Since beginning to OM, I’m learning (somewhat) to let go of my expectations and just go with how I feel. I don’t like being quiet but then again, I don’t like being so loud the neighbors have to put in earplugs.

Which makes me wonder, why do women use porn as a gauge for their sex lives? Is porn real? Are the people in porn realistic? How much are we damaging our sexual expectations for ourselves by watching porn?

Now I don’t know the “Rules of Porn” but I’m fairly certain loud women is the norm, because it mirrors on the OUTSIDE what (supposedly) is happening on the INSIDE since we can’t exactly see TurnON on the outside (and I know a bunch of One Tasters who will disagree with me on that statement).

But in any case, if letting it out verbally can enhance what’s going on inside, then I’m all for giving my vocal chords a workout.

I get Turned ON hearing another person Turned ON. Maybe I need to release my fears of being too loud, of being overheard, of sounding ridiculous and just go for it.

Lord knows I get plenty of opportunity in the OMing community.

Powered by orgasm

pboI’m going through airport security. Unbeknownst to me, I have a highly hazardous can of hairspray in my purse.

It is larger than 3.4 oz.

Shocking, I know.

I get pulled aside to have my bag searched by a very serious, very sour faced TSA lady.

She starts reciting the rules as she’s searching through my bag with gloves and a metal wand.

“Do you know you can’t bring any aerosols or liquids larger than 3.4 oz in your carry on luggage?” she asks.

“Yes,” I nod.

I’m watching as she picks her way around my BLACK LACY THONG PANTIES… because when you OM, you never know when you’ll need a fresh pair. So I’ve taken to carrying an extra pair with me.

My TSA lady arches a brow at me but says nothing.  Disapproval is emanating from every cell of her body.

But beyond the underwear, I spot A JAR OF ONE STROKE LUBE – the lube of choice for OMers.

I flush from my head to my freshly manicured toes.

Is she going to ask? Is she going to open the jar? Will it be confiscated?

Please don’t let it be confiscated!

I start panicking when I think about losing my jar of lube.

She finds the offending can of hairspray and removes it. I indicate she can just throw it away.

As I walk away I feel slightly buoyant and giddy…

….thinking all that was missing was a dildo in my bag and a “Powered by Orgasm” t-shirt on me.

I would have liked to have seen the look on her face then.