It's Bound to be Erotic

One of the most obvious things about me - if you follow any of the drivel I write on here and my Twitter account - is how much I enjoy reading. I think it is a bit of a lost art in today's culture, as I know too many people who could use an introduction to a good book; such as a dictionary or Grade 8 grammar text book.

And while a lot of what I read may not rank high among literary masterpieces, quite a few always lead to some interesting debates. These days it's hard to find anyone who does not have an opinion on the most talked about book of 2012, Fifty Shades of Grey.

The naughty, but not exactly well-written, trilogy has opened the door for many conversations and now, some 10 months since the books peaked in popularity, there is a bit of a baby boom ... and no wonder. Regardless of your or my opinion on the quality of the writing, pop culture consumed these en masse. And couples were all of a sudden exploring in the bedroom.

Heck, even at the Everything To Do With Sex Show a few weeks back, almost every vendor was trying to capitalize on the increased interest in bondage.

I mentioned that in passing to a few of my more open-minded coworkers and we soon found ourselves immersed in a discussion on what is erotic and what is too much.

I have some pretty clear rules when it comes to exploring the world of bondage, domination and submission: nothing that causes pain; nothing that humiliates; and nothing that crosses the line in terms of our marriage vows.

Outside of that, there are many aspects of the "Fifty Shades" experience that excite me; and I'm not even touching on the ridiculousness of the plot. I have no delusions of meeting a rich, young, handsome man with nothing better to do in life than strap virgins onto a St. Andrew's cross in a personal playroom somewhere in Seattle.

One of those aspects is how in my own bedroom, things have been a bit more "bound and determined" when it comes to being playful. Being blindfolded and teased is a highly erotic experience for me. It touches on a desire in me to be dominated, but at the same time falls right into my safety zone. For my husband, it allows him the opportunity to do some of those things to me that I typically do to myself. He can indulge in the erotic thrill of my forced orgasm, using a toy on me while I am totally incapable of bringing myself to one.

Eroticism requires a heightened level of anticipation. It goes beyond just the physical stimulation, but plays on the imagination at the same time. Which means the unknown of what sensation to expect next when being blindfolded enhances the excitement for me ... and I know I'm not alone in this. Ethel Person of Columbia University reports that 51% of women imagine being forced to have sex and another 33% get off on pretending to be a slave who must obey a man’s every wish.

And it's not just Person saying it. According to many studies, exploring a submissive role is one of the leading sexual fantasies for women. Psychology Today estimates that between 31% and 57% of women entertain fantasies where they are forced to have sex.

For many women, it is a safe way to be bad, permission to be naughty in a way that is still a little shocking.

Andee     xoxo

A New Twist On My Panty Strategy

Earlier this week on Twitter I made a promise that one of the days I would have a little bit of fun and head to work “commando.” It was something that, once again, came from my brilliant ability to pick the winning side of some bets. I’m still not going to disclose exactly what day that will be, other than to point out that other than today, there are only two work days left. Naturally that will give everyone a bit of time to use their imagination and ponder the prospects … but when you get right down to it, we’re all naked under our clothes!

When I posted that silly little comment on Twitter, one of my followers sent me a question on the subject of crotchless panties, and if they were something that I wore. And since I have very little shame over where ideas come from that I can turn into something for everyone to read, I thought, “hey, I should blog about that!”

The easy answer is to the question is: no.

The long answer is much more intriguing for you, I’m sure. After all, you guys really seem to enjoy the ideas around my panties and the thought that goes into my personal panty strategy. (Just so you know, as I am writing this, I'm wearing a comfortable red pair with a lace waistband.)

I guess, other than for some visual fun, and maybe a photo update or two on my website, I can’t really grasp the purpose in having crotchless panties. From a woman’s perspective, they are not practical for a big part of the reason why we wear panties in the first place. From a style perspective, I’m not sure why I would go to the trouble of trying to convince you guys that I was wearing panties when it is way more entertaining to mess with your minds as you try to figure out if I am actually wearing any. I guess unlike some women, I don’t mind if you want to stare just a little bit longer as I walk by, knowing full well you are looking to see if there are any visible panty lines.

But I will also be honest with you; I invest a great deal of thought into what I slip into most days. Having sexy panties and bras are one of my true vices, and I feel that much sexier when I know that what is under my clothes is something you would enjoy seeing. Now, having said that, don’t assume that I am also one of those women that go around making sure there’s enough visibility hanging out for you to see. No, I prefer that you work it out in your mind, or at least hurt your neck trying to sneak a peek up my skirt or down my top.

Occasionally, if you’ve been good, I might relent just a little and uncross my legs slowly enough to tease, or sit at a precarious angle that does not allow my hem to hide my traditional aura of mystique.

Back to the crotchless idea though … I suppose one of the benefits might be the access they promise. Perhaps they are more useful in the situation when I am wearing a garter belt? I haven’t tried, but let me assure you that, in spite of the sexual heat stockings and garters can bring to the day, they do pose some logistical challenges when nature calls … or when you might want to slip into that certain secret spot and allow for some better access to all the sensitive parts with greater ease. It’s not always the most comfortable situation to have things yanked to the side, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, those are my thoughts. I would love to hear from anyone that has some better insight to offer … because who knows, I might be willing to give them a try too!

Andee     xoxo

Healthy Investigation ... or Snooping

I have never really been one who got into the whole celebrichef trend. As someone who thinks the kitchen is just a practical room, the appeal of most food shows and the larger than life personalities these people force themselves to put on just isn't for me. I mean, when I see the commercials for certain popular chefs, and you see their ranting, raving and swearing at their staff, it just reminds me of all the bullying idiots I've had to endure in my own career. Not cool.

But the other day, I found something about British chef Jamie Oliver that touched off a bit of a firestorm ... it was a story about how his wife of 12-years routinely checks his e-mails, cell phone and Twitter account for signs of infidelity. And then, in the interview with the press, she claims that while he believes her to be a "jealous girl" she sees herself as a "laid-back" individual.

Seriously?

Now, I don't know Jamie Oliver. I probably could distinguish between him and the other British chef, because I think Oliver uses a lot less profanity when talking to his employees ... I think. But I do know that whether you are a world-renowned sandwich artist or a somewhat anonymous broom pilot, having your private communications subject to investigation is not a sign of a healthy relationship.

Yesterday, while my hubby and I were having our morning coffee together, we got on the subject of trust. And in our relationship, without question, there is an awful lot of trust. That is what makes it strong and our connection deeper than some of the relationships we see around us. At the same time, as my husband explained, we also tend to push our trust to the limits that not an awful lot of people would dare. That's not to say we cross the line, but recognizing that in our current sexual adventure, things are happening on a somewhat regular basis that require a whole serving of honesty.

My husband explained that in relation to my current relationship status with a certain Office Guy, all he could rely on for those hours that I am at work and in close proximity to one of my objects of desire is trust. I continually reassured him that, given our outlook on what we want from this adventure, there was little need to worry.

But I'm not naive enough to think that his concerns and fears are not legitimate, no matter what I say in response.

The marvels of all that rest in the simple fact that our trust grows when we have these conversations - because through them we are actually being open with each other and communicating. Couples are supposed to talk to each other and work on building something stronger, not just settle into a routine of quiet doubt. For us, healthy investigation into what is going on when we are apart comes from these couch talks over coffee because rarely does anything positive come from secret surveillance.

Someone in the Jamie Oliver article said that assuming your spouse is cheating is one way to guarantee that they will. I couldn't disagree more; assuming your spouse is cheating and investing all that energy chasing shadows takes away the opportunity for intimacy with your spouse - and robs you of those precious moments when difficult questions can be discussed like adults.

Andee     xoxo

Flirting | A Sexy Birthday Gift

I wasn’t intending to turn this into a blog, but after a few requests for more information, I figured it made sense – plus a chance to revisit the whole experience in my mind again. I almost think I should have made this more of a Fantasy Friday, given how long it is; but let’s call it a Short-Week Sexcapade instead.

If you happen to be one of my followers on Twitter, you’ll know that Tuesday was another one of those “fun” days for me; “fun” meaning when things get a little hot as opposed to the Family Channel kind of fun. As usual, my tweets were sometimes a little cryptic, sometimes directed at specific individuals, and I tried to answer as many of your tweets along the way.

In my little game here, I have pretty clear rules when it comes to what happens at work and keeping it all hot and exciting by sharing those events through Twitter. It’s something that my husband thought up, and so you all get to be included in the adventure as well. It has also become an easy and anonymous way for some of my real-life friends to connect with the naughty side of me.

Anyway, it had been a long weekend here, and returning to work on Tuesday coincided with a certain Office Guy’s birthday. As a good friend I had been thinking what I should get for him. I couldn’t give him something practical because our relationship, with all its kinks and quirks, is not something he shares with anyone – especially his wife. I also had reservations about some of the suggestions that came from my own spouse. He tends to be a bit braver on my behalf than I really am.

I knew my day would be interesting when I noticed a couple of items my husband set out for me. I had already planned to dress up a little – but he often finds ways to add a certain “element” to that. This time I found my new hot pink bra and panties and black back-seam thigh highs that I had purchased on my birthday date set out with my dress. I guess I knew they would make an appearance at some point …

By the time I was ready to head out and catch the train, I was feeling pretty good about myself. When I know the man I have at home is drooling over how I look, it helps go a long way. After all, despite my flirtatious ways with my friend, my husband is the man I am trying to seduce at the end of the day.

The second big boost came shortly after I settled into my usual spot on the morning train, when my still-anonymous Cute Guy arrived on the scene, and happened to notice me (yes!!!!) and flash me that “I so want to kiss you” smile. OK, maybe my imagination embellishes that a little, but you know me.

The first inclination of how my workday might play out came at our morning coffee break. I had casually stopped by my Office Guy’s office at the end of my first round, just to say Happy Birthday and see how his day was going. As is his usual habit, he made a nice compliment about how I looked. I turned slightly and let him see that my hosiery had a seam that ran up the back of my leg. He asked if it went “all the way up” … and so I slipped inside the door, so not to be seen, and hiked up my dress so he could see that I was wearing thigh highs. I said “only that high up” and smiled and off I went to enjoy my break with a few of my friends from my department.

Later that morning, I happened to see him in the hall. We stopped and chatted as we usually do, and then he leaned in an whispered in my ear about how much he liked the little peek I had given him earlier … and described the reaction it had on him. I answered back that if he liked the preview, he would enjoy his gift later.

Lunch was my next opportunity to stoke the fire more. We have managed to continually – and seemingly without drawing attention – sit directly across from each other at these events. It’s perfect, in that, we don’t give away our naughty secret but we still have adequate chances to tease, torment and torture each other. For example, my Office Guy has a thing for: a) hosiery, b) feet and c) foot jobs. I know this from experience and conversation.

Tuesday was no different. While everyone was foolishly asking about work, complaining about this, that and the other thing, I was removing my shoe and then sliding my foot up the inside of his leg. As he shuffled his chair into the table – as if to lean in closer to our coworkers’ conversation – I was able to gently stroke his growing erection with my toes. However, too much of this can be torturous, so I didn’t continue for a long period of time … just enough to remind him of how much fun we can have.

Lunch continued with the usual amount of collective banter and general birthday chatter until it was time to head back and actually earn our keep.

I’m sure many of you must think that my workplace must be something like Grey’s Anatomy; but it’s not, really. It’s much worse. Actually, while you enjoy all the crazy ideas that go on in my mind, half the time I am tweeting some of the nonsense while running off to make a delivery to one of the floors, or standing in the elevator, the line-up in the coffee shop … you get the idea. Naughty multi-tasking blended with mortgage-paying labour.

Throughout the day I had been posting cryptic messages, hints, etc. for my Office Guy to read – and as designed, for my own hubby to keep up on the antics. I honestly don’t know if my friend’s hand was on his Blackberry or in his pants more often … I just wanted his imagination to be duly distracted throughout the day.

By mid-afternoon, it was getting to the point where all the naughtiness had to meet up with some action.

When I actually visit my Office Guy on non-work-related matters, I have to time my trip carefully. Raising the suspicion of some of the others in his area could be a bad thing for all parties concerned. So, when the moment arrived, I slipped into his office and quietly closed the door behind me. I think he was a touch surprised at first, because I get the sense he was honestly expecting an actual gift-wrapped package … and my hands were empty. I asked him if he was ready for his gift and he got that look on his face that is a cross between shit-eating grin and abject fear. When he said he was, I asked him to arrange his chair so that I could stand in front of him.

I placed my hands on his shoulders and leaned in. I whispered into his ear that I had thought long and hard about what the perfect gift might be. I teased him with the suggestions that my husband has shared with me that morning. Then I said if he followed the seams of my stockings all the way to the top, he would find his gift.

My Office Guy slowly made his way up the backs of my legs and under the hem of my dress. The sensation of his hands on me again, touching me in such a sexual way, sent a wave of lusty electricity through my body. I was already incredibly turned on, and this pushed me closer to the edge of surrender.

When he got to my little lacy thong, his hands gently continued across the flesh of my ass, tracing the little whisp of lace. I asked him to take my panties off of me. I have to admit, it was a very unusual sensation to have another man removing my panties in this fashion – erotic and naughty. They were soaked from me being so turned on.

I stepped out of them, and whispered to him they were his to keep as a fond memory of his birthday. He understands there are reasons why other suggestions can not materialize at this moment, without us having to say. But it is hard to ignore the intense heat that rises between us.

I couldn’t leave it at just that. This was the man who had brought me to orgasm in a hotel room less than a kilometre away from where we were now. And I needed a little something to satisfy my own urges.

I took his hand and raised it to my mouth, and sucked on his finger like I had done to his cock during our interlude only a couple months ago, and then surprising myself with more bravery than expected, guided him under the hem of my dress and to the wetness between my legs.

I allowed my Office Guy to explore me with his long fingers for a few minutes. Then, without saying much more, I took back his hand and sucked on his now wet fingers. Before leaving his office –as time is tight and we do have actual jobs to do, I gave him a deep kiss.

Later that night, after my wicked husband had me pose for some photos in my outfit from the day, I finally managed to get the much needed sexual relief – but not before having to describe every minute detail of my afternoon.

Andee     xoxo

Communication | How Social Are We Really

I try very hard to be a social person. It’s not always my biggest comfort zone, but it serves me well to know those around me when I need a favour or shortcut during the day. I don’t need to mention (again!) about how it also led me to starting an incredible journey of sexual discovery and experience.

But there are moments when I get a little concerned over how we have more ways to avoid communicating face to face than we do to interact on a physical level.

I was reading this article online the other day about how social media – specifically Facebook – has changed our way of sharing major life changes to those around us. The article was focused on the issue of updating your FB status when a relationship has come to an end, but touched on other elements of what it has done to our personal TMI filters.

The woman being interviewed commented about how she felt awkward changing her relationship status following a breakup because it invited comments from everyone such as her distant aunt to high school friends she had not seen in years.

It made me think about how much we have grown into a very self-centred society – as we seek electronic validation for “finally dumping the idiot” in our search for “the right guy will come along soon, be patient.” I think what amused me was how there seems to be a whole generation of people who think this is how we relate to each other on an intellectual level.

Heck, even in my own circle of people I actually know, I learned my best friend from high school was pregnant (I won’t mention the not-being-married, not-sure-if-the-divorce-is-final status she should put on Facebook) when she changed her little avatar to the ultrasound image of the fetus.

It was just one of those things that made me think we have accepted that we don’t have any real friends other than the wireless gadget that vibrates in our pocket every time someone IMs or Tweets us.

I see it in my own children, whose friends continually send friend-requests to me – even though I have a reputation of “strict Mom” – because it is more cool in their preteen circuit to have hundreds of online “friends” than it is to head to the park and play a pickup game of soccer or ball hockey with real boys and girls.

As a society, it seems we have become so fixed on our electronic popularity that we will reach out to almost anyone whose name we recognize. (Which reminds me; Johnny Depp, if you are reading this, you haven’t accepted my friend request just yet …)

In a twisted way, I had to laugh when I heard the news that ESPN had fired one of its employees – I think they term they used was “parted company with” – for her deceit in creating a fake following on Twitter in order to seem more “networked” than she was. The woman purchased a followers list from someone else, immediately boosting her own cyber popularity by 1,000 accounts. And I say accounts, because there is no factual evidence to suggest that the package actually included live, breathing organisms.

Followbots continually show up in my Twitter account – and are not hard to identify because they don’t actually “tweet.” They can’t because there is no real person behind the account to offer randomly, amusing sexually suggestive statistics like I tend to share. So, when reviewing who follows me, I can usually determine that if you have a sexy porn star image for an avatar, follow exactly 1,583 others (much like yesterday’s new follower under a different name but the same porn star avatar), have gained 619 followers but have never tweeted a single tweet that you are probably not a living, breathing frustrated bicurious female with a labradoodle and paying way too much in rent.

The Internet – as I believe in all my naïveté – is not meant to be the mechanism through which we solidify relationships with others. It’s a nice toy to occasionally reach out and touch people who we may be geographically distant from, but to notify my mother that I just had a bowel movement by posting on her wall … yeah, not so much.

And social media is already to blame for so much that is anti-social; as a society we are learning how to disconnect ourselves from interacting with those around us in favour of electronic toys that can share our message with cute little emoticons. I guess it is too much trouble to actually smile at someone else.

On top of that, this so-called “social” tool has dulled our ability to sift through what should be private and what should be public. I can imagine the shifting of the planets that would occur if I actually used my personal Facebook account to update my status with my occasionally naughty exploits. Maybe what Facebook needs are some more realistic relationship status options:

• Married with a hall pass
• Decidedly against members of the opposite sex
• Currently engaged … in something exceptionally kinky
• Singularly responsible for someone’s divorce proceedings 

Anyway, since most of you on here don’t get to be “social” with the real mind behind the madness, count yourself lucky. As Brad Paisley sang “I’m so much cooler online.”

Andee     xoxo