Tag Archive: sex

Jan 19

Say What?

 

So, what’s with all the letters?

If you’re new to erotica or erotica romance, sometimes the “code” used by the publishers and authors can be a little confusing. Just as an example, my January 2013 release As Darkness Falls (Flights of Fancy 3) carries the mystic code of:

M/M/F/F, with F/F

To use another code, WTF does that mean??

Let me ‘splain somethin’ to you, Lucy…

The Ms and Fs are simply shorthand for Male and Female. It starts getting complicated because the order of the letters means something.

Here’s a simple one…M/F (sometimes just MF) means the story has one Male and one Female star. Pretty easy, right? It gets worse…

M/F/M (sometimes MFM) means there are two men and one woman. So does M/M/F, but these are different. In the M/F/M story, the trio may all have sex together, but there is no sexual contact between the two men. In the M/M/F variant, the trio is still together, but the men have sex with the woman and with each other. By the same token, there are F/M/F and F/F/M trios out there.

In other words, the placement of the letters means something. Usually…

The problem comes in when the group is larger than three. Using my story above as an example, there are two men and two women and they couple in every possible combination of two, three, and four. This means that the story has elements of M/F, M/M/F, M/F/M, F/F/M, F/M/F, M/F/M/F, M/F/F/M, F/M/M/F, M/M, and F/F. I probably missed a few in there, too.

As a general rule, if the letters are next to each other, you have people of the represented gender having sex.

The idea is to give a potential reader a bit of a warning. If you are a man and you want no part of reading about two men having sex, you should avoid books with M/M in the description. On the other hand, if you are a man and want to read about two women having sex, you should look for books with F/F in the string of letters.

Oh, and as an aside…guys, never EVER think that we girls don’t find the idea of an M/F/M or M/M/F threesome as exciting as you find an F/M/F or F/F/M three ways. We do. Whether we will admit it to someone or not, the idea of two men at the same time is pretty hot.

Anyway…

Now you know what all of the funny letters mean, at least as well as anyone does.

For As Darkness Falls, the code of M/M/F/F, with F/F means there are two women, two men, and everyone has sex with everyone else in all combinations.

One final word of caution, though…the exact use of the letters may vary a bit from one publisher and author to another. Generally speaking, most are fairly consistent within their own scope.

Keep Loving!

Melodee

 

Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2013/01/19/say-what/

Nov 22

Why Erotic Romance Is Pornography (& That’s Something to be Thankful For)

First off, Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends. In Canada, we celebrated our Thanksgiving more than a month ago, with all of the turkey and none of the great sales. I’m thankful that you and I live in countries where we are free to express our thoughts and opinions, and where it is totally okay for women to write books with hot sex. So while you’re waiting for that bird to cook, here’s some food for thought.

I was visiting another blog last week when I came across a post about romance novels being ‘porn for women’. I’ve heard the term ‘Mommy porn’ as well, especially in relation to a certain colorful trilogy, and I’ve heard the term used to describe romance novels in general. Usually women are quick to deny it. After all, women don’t like porn. Do we?

First, let’s look at the definition of pornography. According to Merriam-Webster (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/pornography), pornography can be defined as:

1: the depiction of erotic behavior (as in pictures or writing) intended to cause sexual excitement; 2: material (as books or a photograph) that depicts erotic behavior and is intended to cause sexual excitement; 3: the depiction of acts in a sensational manner so as to arouse a quick intense emotional reaction <the pornography of violence>

Many erotic romance novels would certainly be considered pornography under this definition. I see you waving your hands and I know you’re going to say that erotic romance novels are about telling a story, not just about sexual arousal. But I dare you to read a story-driven erotic romance and NOT be aroused during the sex scenes. The reason we write these scenes is to cause sexual excitement. They are certainly not often necessary from a plot perspective, although there are some exceptions. Let’s be honest. Readers (and I certainly include myself here) pick up the erotic romance novels because they enjoy being sexually aroused by them. If we didn’t want to get all hot and bothered, we’d pick up the sweet romances instead. A mainstream romance does not fit the definition of porn. It may have occasional scenes of a more sensual nature but not of the sort most people would be completely turned on by.

So here is another way of looking at it. My husband has a huge collection of porn. And he’s got the whole range of stuff from VHS to DVD to books to magazines (sorry honey, you know I love you!). I know what porn is. My standard of judging whether something is pornographic is to ask myself, “Would I want my children finding this?” If the answer is no, it’s porn. We make sure to keep hubby’s stuff well hidden. Would I care if my kids picked up your average Harlequin? No. Not that my eleven year old son would. When I told him I was having books published, the conversation went something like this:

Me: I have a book for grown-ups being published.

Him: Cool! Since you’re an author, can you introduce me to J.K. Rowling?

Me:  Writing a book doesn’t automatically put you on speaking terms with every other author.

Him: Well can I read your book?

Me: Absolutely not.

Him: Can I read it when I’m 40?

Me: I guess I can’t stop you then.

Him: What kind of book is it?

Me: A romance.

Him: Oh. (noise of disgust) Well never mind then.

But I digress. Or do I? If my standard for pornography is its suitability for my kids, then my book most certainly is pornographic. I don’t even want them to see the cover! Nor do I want them to find my collection of ebooks, because they aren’t appropriate. Period.

So now that I’ve established that erotic romance (at least the sort I read and write) is pornographic, let’s discuss its suitability for women. Well, duh! Of course it’s for women! And for you hand wavers from before, this is where the story aspect comes into play. I love a good romance story. Many women I talk to love romance.  I first read romance when I picked up my mom’s books at home. (Corollary standard for porn: Would I want my mother finding it? Answer: NO!) But as I said before, if it was only about the romance story, erotic romance as a genre, would not exist.

So if you are looking for something sexually arousing, why not try watching porn, too? There really is something for everyone out there. Just as the romance novels have a heat rating, porn has different ratings, too. It doesn’t have to be all hard core gang banging. There is an increasing amount of “couples” porn out there – all the hot sex (which will appeal to the guys) but with the important story included for the girls. Admittedly, some films do this better than others, but so do some books. And while you’re busy watching the porn, give your hubby a book or two. Mine enjoys them because there’s lots of hot sex, but enough of a story to keep it interesting. We’re both finding that my writing ‘dirty fuck books’ has side benefits 😉 and me watching porn certainly helps with the book ‘research’.

But the most important reason for sharing your interests is the connections you can make as a couple. It is a starting point for those discussions about sex that are sometimes very awkward. How do you tell him you’re ready to try some BDSM? Hand him 50 Shades, with your favourite parts highlighted. Or watch a movie and tell him which parts you like best. It certainly won’t make things dull! And it may just give you 50 things to be thankful for.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Windswept, by Diana MacArthur, is available from http://www.bookstrand.com/windswept

Click here to read Melodee Aaron’s review of Windswept!


Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/11/22/why-erotic-romance-is-pornography-thats-something-to-be-thankful-for/

Oct 05

Freaky Friday for 05 OCT 2012

 
Welcome to Freaky Friday, a time when I ask you one question and you get to answer in any way you like.

Feel free to be as concise or as detailed as you like. Remember, this is an adult website!

All of these questions are based on actual questions asked of clients by marriage/relationship/sex therapists in various settings and cases. Yes, mental health professionals came up with these!

There will be a new question posted every Friday, so be sure to mark your calendar!

And here is this week’s question…

 


Would You:

Have clandestine sex on an airplane, train, bus, etc. with a stranger?

Keep Loving!

 

 

Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/10/05/freaky-friday-for-05-oct-2012/

Sep 14

Freaky Friday for September 14

Welcome to Freaky Friday, a time when I ask you one question and you get to answer in any way you like.

Feel free to be as concise or as detailed as you like. Remember, this is an adult website!

All of these questions are based on actual questions asked of clients by marriage/relationship/sex therapists in various settings and cases. Yes, mental health professionals came up with these!

There will be a new question posted every Friday, so be sure to mark your calendar!

And here is this week’s question…

Would You:

Have your genitals pierced at your partner’s request?

 


Keep Loving!

 

Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/09/14/freaky-friday-for-september-14/

Sep 07

Freaky Friday for September 7, 2012

 


Welcome to Freaky Friday, a time when I ask you one question and you get to answer in any way you like.

Feel free to be as concise or as detailed as you like. Remember, this is an adult website!

All of these questions are based on actual questions asked of clients by marriage/relationship/sex therapists in various settings and cases. Yes, mental health professionals came up with these!

There will be a new question posted every Friday, so be sure to mark your calendar!

And here is this week’s question…

Would You:

Have sex with a person of your partner’s gender while your partner watches?

Keep Loving!

 

Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/09/07/freaky-friday-for-september-7-2012/

Aug 31

Freaky Friday for August 31, 2012

 


Welcome to Freaky Friday, a time when I ask you one question and you get to answer in any way you like.

Feel free to be as concise or as detailed as you like. Remember, this is an adult website!

All of these questions are based on actual questions asked of clients by marriage/relationship/sex therapists in various settings and cases. Yes, mental health professionals came up with these!

There will be a new question posted every Friday, so be sure to mark your calendar!

And here is this week’s question…

Would You:

Give a lap dance to a stranger?

Keep Loving!

 

Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/08/31/freaky-friday-for-august-31-2012/

Jan 29

Life With Melodee – Part 4

People often ask me the same question:

What is it like to live with Melodee?

That’s a pretty big and deep subject, and there isn’t an easy answer. Like the old saying goes, it’s complicated.

But I’m going to try to tell you a little about what Life With Melodee is like in a series of postings here on Melodee’s blog.

Part Four
Random Recollections

As I sat here planning what to write about next, it dawned on me that I have left out a lot of strange things that happened over the years between when I met Melodee and when we admitted that we were in free fall for each other. In an effort to correct this, I offer the following random comments and thoughts.

June Cleaver She Ain’t

Not even close. In fact, Melodee is a horrible housekeeper, and a worse cook. I don’t think Melodee even knows why she is so bad at these domestic activities, so she usually just says that she never learned how to do them. But let’s be honest here…using a broom, putting an empty glass in the sink, doing the dishes, and even running a vacuum aren’t really skills that have a steep learning curve. Even cooking isn’t all that tough if you can read (and Melodee can read very well, even if at blinding speed that makes me dizzy to watch her flip the pages) and follow directions. I think that cooking and cleaning offer nothing to hold her attention. She would rather do something interesting, and since she has no inhibitions of any kind, Melodee pretty much does what she wants to do when she wants to do it. Maria (Melodee’s long-time housekeeper and cook) forbids Melodee from even going in the kitchen unsupervised. Yes, she has nearly burned the house down more than once. The girl could screw up Cup-O-Soup!

Speaking Of Inhibitions

Melodee has none. Not a one. And I am not just talking about sexual inhibitions here. She will say anything that is on her mind to anyone. Just as one example, I saw her tell a now former President of the United States that he was a “dumb-fuck” and that he should “grow a pair of balls or put on a dress”. And this was at a White House reception with maybe 2000 of our closest friends around. On the sexual side, she can be a little hard to swallow sometimes, no pun intended. When “in the mood”, she will do just about any thing in just about any place. She has gotten us tossed out of a few of those places. Take the time that she used liquid latex to paint on her “clothes”. She was totally nude, except for her shoes, and had painted on a shirt and pair of jeans. She strolled right through the lobby of a major hotel and into the bar like she owned the place. And then there is her habit of playing “dress-up” on a regular basis. She likes the schoolgirl look. And the nurse. And the policewoman. But I think her favorite is to dress up like a cat. Sometimes Melodee likes the big cats, particularly tigers and cheetahs. Other times, she goes for the house cat look. And it can get a lot more, well, complicated. Not that I’m complaining.

Gun Play

Melodee grew up in the country, and like most country folks, she knows how to hunt and how to handle a firearm. She’s a fair shot with a rifle, and she won’t kill herself with a handgun…probably. At one point, I decided that, for security reasons, Melodee needed to be armed. She explained to me that she would not carry a gun. She gave up hunting long ago, and didn’t want to have a gun in her purse. I can, and did, respect that, so I convinced her to carry a can of pepper spray. She put it on her key ring and had it in her purse. One evening, a bunch of us from the company were having a dinner meeting at Melodee’s house, and she decided she needed some gum. She walked to the side table where she had tossed her purse when we came home earlier that day, and reached inside. After a moment of fumbling around, the pepper spray went off. I still don’t know how it happened, but it did, and she effectively maced everyone in the room. I decided that maybe the pepper spray wasn’t as good of an idea as I had thought, so I got her a stun-gun. Again, it went in her purse. For those men smart enough to avoid a woman’s purse, you can’t believe the amount of stuff in there. Most of it we men prefer not to imagine. We were at a book signing in Chicago and Melodee reached into her purse for something. Next thing I knew, she was on the floor flopping around like a fish out of water. Somehow, she had armed and triggered the stun gun with one hand in her purse. After that, I carry the weapons and just stay close to Melodee.

Economic Stimulus

Melodee is a shop-a-holic. I think she even has a union card to prove it. She has a particular addiction to high-end jewelry. The staff at Tiffany’s knows her by name and on sight. And I mean the shop in New York. She spends a lot of money on clothes and shoes as well as jewelry. For a long time, I wondered about the clothes and shoes part, but I found out what was going on after we were married. She buys a lot more clothes and shoes than she has in her closets. At the rate she shops, she would fill the house up in a matter of months, and I never saw any Goodwill or Salvation Army trucks around the place. It turns out that she donates most of the “excess” to a local charity. Some they sell, some they give to women to wear to job interviews or to work. The transactions are very low profile. The real downside is that both of our daughters are catching the shopping addiction from their mom now.

Attention Junkie and Pusher

Melodee likes to be the center of attention. See above for more. I think that a huge part of her lack of inhibitions goes right back to this fact. By being flirtatious, outspoken, and all the rest, she gets the attention that she craves. But it’s a two-way street with her when it comes to attention. I shower a lot of attention on Melodee, and I’ll even admit that I spoil her. Usually not with “things”, because she’s pretty well got all of that, but with a touch or a word. I mentioned in Part 3 that I had, without thinking, picked a little wildflower for her, and she sort of melted. Well, I still pick flowers for Melodee. Mostly for exercise, I walk the perimeter of our property every day. That’s about 4 miles. Along the way, pretty much all year round, I can find a few little wildflowers to pick and bring home for her. She loves the attention, but she gives it back to me. Melodee is my second wife, though I really believe that she is my first true love. But that doesn’t mean that I haven’t dated in the past. I have never had a woman as in-tune with my mood and needs as Melodee is. I don’t know what a “soul mate” is, but maybe being so connected is part of that, but I think it’s also possible that the giving is just a part of Melodee. It’s who she is.

Baggage

Melodee has a good deal of baggage. I won’t go into the details of her childhood other than to say that through a rather nasty chain of events, she was addicted to drugs at a very young age. This addiction has, as it does with all addicts, stayed with her for all these many years. Over all, I think she’s done well for herself despite being in various states of recovery since her pre-teen years and being deaf. There was even a period when she worked as a hooker to pay for her fixes. Since I have known Melodee, she has had one relapse to the drugs, and I mentioned that in an earlier part of this series. But, since we have been “together”, she has stayed clean and says she has no desire to use again. I believe her.

Hell Hath No Fury

Some people who know Melodee only casually have the opinion that she angers easily. The reality is that she is more of a “slow boil” person. She will sit and stew until she finally has had enough, then she blows up. The reason for the confusion, at least as I see it, is because Melodee is so outspoken. She will tell you (or anyone else) exactly how she feels, and she lacks anything even close to tact. If she thinks an idea is stupid, she will say so, usually in close to those words with a few of the infamous deleted expletives tossed in. If a person keeps harping about something that Melodee has already identified as a stupid idea, she will, usually, tell them to just shut the fuck up and go the fuck away. Her harsh words and course manner can easily be seen by some people as being angry. I get that. But those people have never seen Melodee really angry. I have. Several times. Maybe Melodee is atypical, because she doesn’t get angry like most women I have known over the years. She doesn’t cry or get sullen. Melodee doesn’t throw things. When I think about it, Melodee’s anger is more like that I have seen from many men. Melodee yells, cusses like a sailor (actually, I am a sailor, and she uses words I never would in public!), and she will punch someone if they are too close. She paces a lot, too. I have never seen her hit a wall or other immovable object, but I think she just might under the right conditions. Trust me…you do not want to be on the wrong side of her anger.

The Inner Mommy

Shortly after we were married, Melodee legally adopted my two daughters, Amanda and Debbie. The girls already loved her as “Aunt Melodee” and the transition to “Mom” or “Mommy” was easy for all three of them. On April 26, 2008 Melodee gave birth to our son, Jack, Jr., or JJ. There were some concerns, mostly by Melodee, that JJ might be born deaf as she was, but everything is just fine with him. Interestingly, he learned to sign before he learned to speak. Now, he does both, and the simple truth is that he is much better at sign than either the girls or I. He is the only one in the house who can keep up with Melodee when she is signing at top speed. Well, other than our dog Tripper. He’s really good at sign, too. I know the trip of being a Mommy hasn’t been easy for Melodee. She will sometimes fret about never hearing JJ cry and missing his first words. She gets equally down because she can’t hear the girls call her “Mom” or tell her that they love her. But she manages. A good friend and colleague of ours is a ham radio operator, and he’s a wizard with electronics and radio, and he put together a little system using old pagers. The kids and I all have a little box with a button on it that we can press. That sends a signal to a pager that Melodee carries, and it vibrates to alert her, and the display tells her who is calling for her. JJ was able to use his to call his Mommy by the time he was a year old. There is an old saying that I heard once that any woman with normal biology can be a mother, but it takes someone special to be a Mommy. Melodee is a great Mommy.

Fantasy Island

I guess this mostly for the men reading, and that’s alright. I know I’ll catch hell from the women reading, but I always had the opinion that men had a larger sexual appetite than women. I don’t know if that’s valid opinion or not, and it doesn’t matter. In my experience, I was always the one who was ready to have sex anytime, anyplace. I had to talk my woman into the idea. Well, I learned something about Melodee very early, even before we were “together”, and that is that she has a healthy and strong sex drive. She enjoys sex, is creative, and very open. Once we started really “dating”, I thought that was wonderful and that, maybe, I had died and gone to heaven. A bit later, I found out that there is such a thing as too much of a good thing. Simple biology is that men are not multi-orgasmic, at least not in the long term. And then there is Melodee’s “30 Second Rule”. One day she bet me that she could take me from nothing to climax in under 30 seconds. I admit that I don’t have the staying power of a porn star, but 30 seconds seemed a little fast to me, so I took the bet. Nothing happened the rest of the day, just normal routine things around the house. About 6pm, Maria took the kids to her place for the evening to watch some TV and play some games. About 6:30pm, Melodee pretty well jumped me on the couch. The bad news is that I lost the bet. The good news is that the loser had to get on top for the rest of the session. Melodee’s philosophy on sex seems to be that she’ll try anything once, twice if she likes it. I haven’t found anything that she has done only once.

Well, that’s about all I have for now.

Jack

Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/01/29/life-with-melodee-part-4/

Jan 16

Masturbating to a Photo…

The other day, I caught the morning drive-time radio show from JackFM (100.7 FM) here in San Diego.

That’s not an easy task, by the way, because I’m deaf. I have sort of a TTY system on steroids that “listens” to the radio and displays the program as text on my computer screen. It works pretty well, and it at least lets me enjoy talk radio. Also, if I turn the volume up really loud and put my hand on the speaker, I can follow the vibrations, though this works better for music than talk radio.

Anyway, the bunch on in the morning JackFM is Dave, Shelly, and Chainsaw, a longtime staple of San Diego radio. Chris Boyer, Ruthie, and Emily round out the DSC team, as they call themselves.

They aren’t shock-jocks, but they are close sometimes. I remember a day several years ago when they were taking about masturbation. To be more precise, they were talking about how a woman might react to knowing that a man masturbates while looking at a picture of her.

First of all, since the DSC were talking about men jacking off while looking at a picture of a woman, I’ll limit this to that scenario. There is no reason to assume that women don’t jill off to pictures of men or that assorted other gender combinations don’t exist.

Of all the things I’ve thought about over the years, I never really thought about this one. OK, some of you may be shocked. Most of you probably won’t. Masturbation while making love can add a new dimension, and I’ve often been involved in situations, both past and current, where my partner and I masturbate while watching each other. In fact, this is one of the favorite things for Jack and me.

The game, if you will, is simply this: You can touch yourself in any way you like, but you can’t touch the other person. Talking is good, and telling your partner what you want to see them do is even better. Toys, lotions, potions, oils, and props are all welcome. You can even trade them back and forth.

Damn it.

So, I’m no stranger to watching a man—or a woman—masturbate. I know how the mechanics work. Honestly, I find it more than a little exciting to watch someone masturbate while they are looking at me.

Damn it.

But what about when I’m not around? Am I OK knowing that when he’s alone, he grabs a picture of me and spanks the monkey?

My first reaction was, “What a selfish bastard! He gets off and I don’t even know about it!” But then I started trying to imagine what goes through a man’s mind while he’s masturbating…

He’s not just looking at the picture. He’s fantasizing about the woman he’s looking at. Same thing happens when he watches porn. In his mind, HE is the well-hung leading man and the big-boobed porno queen is on her knees in front of him.

Now let’s be honest and blunt here, OK? Most men will fantasize about the oral sex scenes. A large number will like the anal sex scenes, too. Very few will like straight sex in their fantasy. Sorry, but that’s the way it is.

And I’m not talking about him having one of the “special” pictures of you, girls. It could be your senior picture from high school, and he’s still going to whack off to it. Men are such beasts!

Don’t you just love it? 😉

Anyway, so he has the picture of you from the last family BBQ on Memorial Day, and you’re not home. He starts thinking about you and about how long it’s been since the two of you had just plain old dirty monkey sex. Next thing he knows, he’s got half of an erection. He grabs the picture in one hand and his shaft in the other. As he’s masturbating, he will probably imagine you giving him a balls-deep blowjob. After a few changes in gears from slow to fast and back to slow (repeat as needed), it’s all over. And I do mean all over…all over his hand, his pants, the sofa, the picture, the cat…you get the idea.

So, ladies, do you want to know about this? At first, I didn’t, but then I thought about it some more. When I really got down the brass tacks, it’s quite a compliment. Without being there and him having only an average, run of the mill picture of me, I can still get him hard as a rock.

Think about it.

Now think about this…

What if we weren’t talking about your lover? What if, let’s say, your picture is on the Internet? Maybe it’s on your web site or MySpace or FaceBook pages. Are there any guys out there bopping the bologna while surfing? I can pretty well assure you that there are.

Wouldn’t you love to get a note on FaceBook something like this:

Dear Betty Jo:

I ran across your page tonight, and saw your pictures. Wow! You are so hot that I just had to take matters into my own hands. :wink:wink: I was able to hang on for nearly five minutes before I came all over my keyboard. Thanks for a great blowjob!

Your New Friend,
Billy Bob

Are you complimented or just plain creeped-out? Knowing full well that it is happening, are you better off knowing or not?

Me? If I knew that a specific person was jacking (or jilling) off to my pictures, I think I would be seriously creeped-the-fuck-out. I don’t want to know exactly who is doing what while looking at me.

But, in general, I don’t mind knowing that it’s happening. Maybe that’s just the porn star in me coming out.

No pun intended.

Think about this when you’re updating your pictures.

Keep Loving!

 

Permanent link to this article: http://melodeeaaron.com/blog/2012/01/16/masturbating-to-a-photo/

Jan 10

Melodee in Latex…

 

This is another post from a few years back, but it’s always fun, and I’ve had several requests to repost. Here you go!

DISCLAIMER: If you have a latex allergy, you should not read any farther. If you do, don’t come bitching to me. The following deals with mature subject matter and is suitable only for consenting adults. By reading farther, you agree that you are both an adult and you consent to reading adult material. There are inherent risks to using latex rubber in the manners discussed below. The two largest risks are hyperthermia and allergic reactions, up to and including anaphylaxis. Read and follow all directions and warnings on the container. Your mileage may vary.

In my life, I’ve done some pretty wild things with my partners. Oh, not just in the bedroom…the kitchen, the bathroom, the living room, the hall, the garage, the backyard, the car, moving motorcycles, Sears, city parks, museums, schools, Vons…you get the idea.

Anyway…

The other day I saw something in a shop that caught my eye…Liquid Latex. It came in a bunch of colors and was packaged in paint cans. The idea is that you can paint the stuff on your skin and it sticks, like paint, but it’s flexible so it doesn’t crack. The little pamphlet that came with each can said you could paint on your clothes. If you’ve seen the Mummy movie, you’ve seen latex used in this manner. Hollywood does it a lot.

This had, I thought, some interesting possibilities. Besides, I’d never done that before.

Since Jack and I were having an “us night” and sending the kids to stay with Maria (my housekeeper/chef), I soon left the shop with several cans of latex and some brushes and went back to the hotel.

Jack had some things to take care of, and that gave me about three hours to get ready. I practiced a little on my arms and legs, and I found the process amazingly easy. I just painted the stuff on and it dried (OK, technically it cured) to a thin, flexible coating. The directions suggested several thin layers, and to use more layers where extra support is needed, like around the breasts. Maybe I was a bit obsessed with following the directions, but I stuck to them to the letter.

When I felt like I had enough practice, I started on my “pants”. I’d picked a blue denim color that, when cured, looked just like brushed denim jeans. I started at my ankles and using long strokes, I painted all the way up my legs to my thighs. At the risk of getting off track, I have to put another couple of warnings here…first, running a cool paintbrush full of latex up my leg tickled! I was twitching and jerking like crazy! Second, it’s more than a little bit of a turn-on…I found myself fantasizing that the brush was a tongue.

Anyway…

About the time I was ready to start on the top part of the pants, I wondered how I was going to do this alone. How could I reach my ass well enough to get a good, even coat of latex on me? I studied one odd brush that the shop owner had sold me. It had a pivot in the middle of a long handle and another pivot just above the bristles. Ah-ha! That’s how!

OK, the guys reading this won’t understand, so you boys may want to skip down to the next paragraph. I suspect that there are like five women on the planet who don’t think that their ass sags just a little. That’s why we buy various types of support panties. Guess what? In this deal, there aren’t any panties, support or otherwise! The directions said to “…lift the area or tense the muscles before applying the latex. Then release the tension after the product has cured.” So, I pulled a chair over in front of the big mirror in the suite’s bedroom and rested my ass on the back of the chair. Then I painted the top half of my butt and waited. I put on, as the directions suggested, five thin layers before I moved. When I stepped away from the chair, the latex held everything right where I wanted it. Amazing stuff!

Back with us, guys?

Before I go on, I need to say that if you want to do this for your lover, you need to shave or get a good wax job. If you can afford it, go get the hair removed with a laser. This is for two reasons…first, just imagine pulling the latex off if it has all your hair embedded in it. Ouch! Second, no one wants to see fuzzy rubber. I had the laser work done several years ago, so no worries for me.

I hope I don’t need to give an anatomy lesson here since we’re all consenting adults, but in case you don’t know, between a woman’s thighs and waist there are a number of areas of rather complex curves, ridges, valleys, creases, and folds. The trick is to get the skin as flat and smooth as possible. This involves pulling with one hand while painting with the other. Just as above, you keep the tension on until the rubber has cured, and all is well. Now, some of that grabbing, pinching, pulling, rolling, and all the rest is done on the tingly spots. And I thought the brush on my legs was a turn-on!

Try this sometime…go out to Home Depot and buy the softest 1-inch paintbrush you can find. Go home and strip off, and then sit down on a chair and spread your legs as wide as you can get them. Reach down with one hand and stretch the skin out to get rid of as many of the folds and such as you can. Dip the brush in cool water and pretend you’re painting yourself. And try not to scream.

I failed.

After I caught my breath, I saw that I now wore what looked like a VERY tight pair of jeans. I used a tiny brush and some white, silver, red, and yellow latex to add a few details like pockets and a zipper, and the illusion was complete.

I figured the shirt would be easier than the pants. I was wrong. OK, it really wasn’t any harder, but the shirt was as least as difficult as the pants, and the problems all centered on my boobs.

Remember those five women above who don’t care that their ass sags? Well, those same five women are also the ones who don’t want perky tits. So, I was back to the idea of using latex for support.

The chair wouldn’t work for this because it was too high, and the same thing went for the dresser. I grabbed a suitcase and put it in front of the dresser, and after a little experimentation, I added two phone books. That put me at the perfect height to kneel on the suitcase and phone books and rest my boobs on the edge of the dresser while I painted the top half of my tits. Sounds simple enough.

Wrong.

Breasts are a lot more…something. Flexible? I don’t know. Anyway, my ass looked perfect—both cheeks at the same height, symmetrical, and smooth. My first try on my boobs ended up with my right nipple pointed at the ceiling and the left one pointed off to the right someplace. My tits looked like Marty Feldman’s eyes!

After a couple of more attempts with results that would have made Dr. Frankenstein proud, I figured out the problem…if the layers—and remember we’re talking several thin layers here—are not exactly the same thickness on each breast, the boobs will have different levels and directions of support, and so will end up pointing in different directions. I had a 1978 Dodge whose headlights did that. The reason I didn’t have a problem with my ass is simply that my ass is mostly muscle. Boobs are mostly fat. Guess which one is easier for the latex to deflect in undesired directions.

I took a deep breath, slowed down, and focused. In two more tries, I had it. And we’re talking some serious perkiness, too! And that brought up another question…would an erect nipple poke through the latex?

I did a little test by painting the same number of layers on the Formica counter in the kitchenette, and then carefully peeling it off. I held it tight and pushed with my knuckle. I knew my nails would cut the rubber, and I hope my nipples are softer than my fingernails, even when my nipples get hard. I had to push very hard to rip through. Good enough.

I finished the shirt in yellow, added some trim and such in blue, black, and hot pink, and stepped in front of the big mirror for a full view.

It looked fantastic! The color of the “jeans” was perfect, and it fit like glove…a latex glove. The most amazing part was that unless you looked closely, the “jeans” and “shirt” really did look like actual clothing, and that was in the fairly bright light of the hotel room. I only considered for a few moments before I grabbed my TTY and called Jack.

I told him I wanted to have a couple of drinks and that I would meet him in the hotel bar. He said he’d like that and would be there in about forty-five minutes.

I put a few finishing touches on my clothes, and slipped on a pair of black shoes with 4-inch heels and straps around my ankles. I then turned my attention to accessories. I grabbed my little black purse since I didn’t have a pocket to put my passport and credit card in, slipped on my rings and bracelets, and then considered for a moment. Last year, Jack bought me a gorgeous necklace. It’s platinum with an emerald the size of a small doorknob hanging on it. The stone rests precisely between my breasts. I put the necklace on, touched up my makeup, and headed downstairs.

I got a few stares from men as I made my way to the bar, but I’m not sure if I got more stares than I would have otherwise. The waiter showed me to a table and I waited for Jack. No one tried to hit on me…this bar wasn’t a gin-joint, but a high-class operation. That’s not to say that I wasn’t getting a few looks. At least I was until Jack came to the table and leaned to kiss me.

Jack’s six-feet-ten-inches tall and weighs about 245 pounds. Not many men have the balls to stare at me when he’s around. Oh, and he’s armed…heavily armed.

He said something about how nice I looked, but as far as I could tell, he was talking to my chest. We ordered drinks and I told him I needed to go to the ladies room. Obviously I didn’t. Think about it…I was completely encased in rubber. How could I possibly pee, even if I had to? I’d end up looking like a water balloon! I really just wanted him to get the full view.

I used The Walk on him as I left the table. You girls know the one I mean. You guys have seen it, too, and you always get all goofy over The Walk. Models use it all the time. It’s a slight crossing of the centerline of the body with the foot at each step. The Walk causes a woman’s ass to move back and forth, her hips to snap up and down as she walks. Guys love it.

As I stood in the restroom waiting for a little time to pass, I realized that Jack’s attention and fascination was exciting me, too. The downside was that I was afraid to touch myself for fear of ripping the latex. The same thing applied to letting him touch my “clothes”. I wanted to dance with him, but I know where that would go…at best, they would make us go back to the room. At worst, the hotel management would toss me out on my rubber-encased ass.

I watched Jack’s face as I walked back to the table, and his gaze kept moving from my boobs to my hips and back again. When I sat down, he just stared into my eyes for a few minutes and he looked like he was trying to speak. He finally managed something about how my day with the girls went. I told him it didn’t matter because I hoped the night with him would go even better.

We had a couple of glasses of wine, and it was obvious that Jack was worthless for conversation. I normally sit next to him when we’re out someplace, but I wanted him not to be able to get me out of his field of vision and I had to come up with a way for him not to touch my “clothes”. While the latex looked good, it felt like rubber, not cloth, and that would ruin the illusion. So I sat across from him and played footsie with him under the table.

I knew those heels would come back to haunt me. I wanted to kick my shoes off so I could run my foot up and down his leg easier, but that’s not easy to do with strap-on shoes…the heel kept getting caught on the chair legs and braces. I would have loved to rest my foot on his chair between his legs and wiggle my toes, but that’s not a safe place to put a four-inch spike heel! I had to settle for other ways to hold his attention.

As we held hands across the table, I would play with his fingers and draw little circles in his palms with my nails. Every so often, I would lean over and kiss his hand. That was a great opportunity to lick and suck his fingers, too. Jack kept squirming in his chair. I think I was making things “hard” for him. I love teasing and flirting with Jack, and I love the fact that I can have that kind of effect on him. Jack likes to be the big, tough macho man, and when I can reduce him to a babbling idiot, it makes me feel good.

Being able to bring him to his knees is kind of fun. Actually, it’s more fun for me to be on my knees, but I digress.

That’s right, guys…we like to have you so distracted and disoriented that you can’t even talk, at least if the reason is your fascination with us. Now, I can only speak for myself, but if you regularly get to that point over me, I won’t be the least upset when, once in a while, you get that way over another woman that we happen to see. We have an old saying back in the Ozarks…

I don’t care where you get your appetite so long as you come home for dinner.

I had just enough control left to know that the scene was going to degenerate rapidly. It wouldn’t take much for one of us to slam the other across the table and…well, you know what I mean. I gave Jack my best seductive smile—and it’s pretty damned good—and suggested that we go back to the room. He didn’t argue.

We walked to the elevator holding hands. I love to hold hands. In my mind, for reasons I don’t even pretend to understand, holding hands is as intimate as kissing and making love. Go figure. On the other hand (no pun intended), if a guy holds my hand “right”, he’ll get kissed. Usually, kissing leads to sex. And Jack really knows how to hold my hand right. We were making little motions to each other with our fingers, and that may be the hard part for those of you with hearing to understand…

Being totally deaf, I use sign a good deal. Jack also knows sign and he learned a long time ago so he could communicate with me. As we walked along holding hands, we were signing to each other. It started off innocent enough. I said something like, “I love you” and Jack replied, “Not as much as I love you.” After a brief round of who loves whom most, even our signing degenerated…

Melodee: I want to chew your pants off.

Jack: Can I tell you what to do after you have?

Melodee: No.

Jack: Why not?

Melodee: Because you’re not going to have enough breath left to talk.

Jack: You’re a bad girl.

Melodee: Yes. I should be spanked.

Jack: You wiggle too much. Maybe I should tie you up first.

Melodee: Promises, promises.

Jack: You’ll see.

Melodee: I’m going to hold you to that.

Jack: I’d rather you hold you to me.

Melodee: Slut! Tell you what, when I’m done with you, if there’s anything more you want, just ask. If you can.

Jack: That’s scary. Exciting, but scary.

Melodee: Like skydiving.

Jack: No, that’s fucking dumb.

Melodee: Next time I do a dive, come with me and we’ll see if I can get you off before we pull the chutes.

Jack: How high are you planning to jump from?

Melodee: I don’t know. You don’t fall far in twelve seconds.

Jack: You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?

Melodee: Not in a million years.

Jack: It wasn’t my fault! You’d been driving me crazy and teasing me all day!

Melodee: C’est moi?

Jack: Oui!

Just as we reached the elevator, I realized that there was little chance of getting to the room with my rubber suit intact. I wasn’t done teasing yet! Luckily, a handful of other guests came and waited for the elevator at the same time, and we were well behaved to our floor.

When we reached our suite, Jack swiped the card-key and we went inside. I flicked on the lights and did a little turn in front of him. I asked if he liked my outfit.

Jack frowned for a moment. “I don’t remember ever seeing that top in particular, but it looks great on you.” He grinned. “Did you have to lie down to get those pants zipped?”

I smiled back. “I didn’t zip them at all.” I pulled the dining room chair away from the table and put my foot up on the seat. I grabbed the edge of the latex at my ankle and peeled off a strip of rubber about an inch wide and ten inches long.

I can’t really describe the look on his face. There were traces of confused puzzlement, awe, and delight. He said, “What the fuck?”

I stepped closer to him and took his hand in mine, and then placed his palm on my left breast. That’s nothing unusual, by the way. He reacted by squeezing a little, and then snatched his hand back. Jack stuttered a couple of times. “Is that rubber?”

I couldn’t help chuckling a little. “And nothing else.”

Jack moved slowly as he touched me, exploring my body with his fingers and tracing the latex “clothes” I wore. When he moved his hand down my stomach and between my legs, he frowned hard. “Those aren’t clothes.” His eyes went wide. “That’s painted on!”

“Yep. Do you like it?”

“Melodee, you’re fucking nude!”

“That depends on your definition of nude. But yes, while it’s not a requirement, you usually do fuck nude.”

“You were out in public in the nude! Are you crazy?”

I put on my best pout, and it’s as least as good as my best seductive smile. “I thought you liked this and I hoped you’d find me attractive.” I had to turn my back on him to hide the grin.

He took my shoulders in his hands and turned me to face him so I could read his lips. “Baby, I do like it, and I always find you attractive. Never forget that.” Jack made a few motions with his mouth like a fish on the bank of the river gasping for air. “But this was a little over the top, don’t you think?”

“I thought it might excite you.” I ran my hand across the front of his pants. “I think it did.”

Jack trembled a little. Then he noticed a small yellow thread hanging out of the neckline of my “shirt”. “What’s this?”

One thing the directions for the latex said that I haven’t mentioned is the idea of putting a thread under the latex so it’s easier to remove. You pull the thread and that cuts the rubber so you can peel it off in sheets. You have to tie a knot in the thread every few inches so it doesn’t just pull out and you need to stick it to you with drops of latex before you paint over it. None of this was a big problem. I took a thread, put in the required knots, and looped it around my boobs in a figure eight and then up to my neck. When I painted the shirt on, I left the end of the string hanging out, and later trimmed it to about half an inch long.

I just smiled. “Pull it and see.”

Jack tugged at the thread, and it did exactly what I hoped it would do…the string came away from the latex, leaving a fine slit around both breasts. He smiled and slowly peeled the rubber away, leaving my boobs exposed.

Things sort of get a little fuzzy after that. Jack forgot that he was upset about me wearing the latex out in public.

Oh, and remember when I was worried about my nipples poking through the rubber when they get hard? Well, that didn’t happen, but something of Jack’s was more than hard enough to rip a couple of strategic holes in the latex.

Keep Loving!

Melodee

 

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