A Musing on BJ’s and Big Betties — Reading Erotica — Vintage Boomer Porn

For those of you reading this web log with a discerning eye, you see a playful construction of hints and glimmers cloaked by a breezy freewheeling attitude.  The style is colloquial.  Idiomatic.  Inclusive language supports the narrative sense that this is a story being told to you with native fluency.  It’s fun to read because it rolls along then STOPS, turns and returns.

frontcover    backcover

The books are naughtier than they look… the covers are deliberately modified to mask the sharp images inside.  Discretion without deception.  The tagline for The Lunarium is “One man’s memories of the watchers and the watched.”  The reader puts the spin on it.  Watching who, watching what?  This kaleidoscope of frank sexuality and sly innuendo was Named to Kirkus Reviews’ Best of 2013 because of its verve.

1.  creative enthusiasm: enthusiasm, energy, or spirit, especially in the expression of artistic ideas

2. vitality: lively vigorous spirit

Synonyms: vitality · energy · dynamism · vigor · vim · dash · spirit · life · animation

All these erotic-sexotic-graphic books share that same layered flavor; smart and sassy and chill.  Authoritative voices are offhand and intimate to reach a cross-section of people.  Writers and readers have to share the translation table quickly in order to connect.  These books do that with provocative charm.

Stoner is a two-part fictional memoir of reefer and romance.  Counterculture all the way but reverent and sacramental too.  There may be “wham”, there may be “bam”, but there is way more than just a “thank you, ma’am.”  Smokin’ Hot.  Not suitable for some, appreciated by others.

SAMPLE FOR ILLUSTRATIVE PURPOSES ONLY

    Reader Discretion is advised.

BJ after sex?  Rare enough to deserve its own section.

When the sex acts meld together and go from kissing to fingering to facing to dicking to facing to fingering to dicking again then the totality of that exchange is reabsorption.  You taste of each other, mixed and heated; you’ve given over all of it, every bit of it, in exchange for the same surrender.  There’s something daring about trusting each other with the grimaces of pleasure, the hissy rasp of sexual demands:  ordinary words sound dirty by their inflection.  There’s a challenge and response volley, an escalating verbalization, when body language isn’t enough.

In the best sex, it all churns together, my taste, her smell, the intimate grunting, aware that underlying it all is the sharing of your everything, your every naked heaving thing, rubbed in under the skin, spurted inside, dripping out, mingling.

The feel of her just-fucked cunt on this man’s face evokes an understanding of what we’ve done, how I’ve battered the gateway and thrust into her, resulting in a slick swollen slot.  Her copious wetness required a dab of a towel, a swiping away of the excess, so as to treasure the sheen left behind, the ferocious glory of secrets shared.  This is what she really feels like, really tastes like, really looks like, when she’s fully and totally aroused.  We’re way beyond flirtation here, beyond the guessing game of will we?  We have, we are, we do.  We can.  Will we ever.

≤÷≥

Penis fracture

≤÷≥

[speechless]

≤÷≥

Candles through cascading amber teardrops throw seven spots of light in a dark living room.  I’m fixated on the light so I could gather my thoughts, I’m higher faster than I expected, and I recalibrate my expectations.  The stone came on full-bodied and bemusing (which sounds a whole lot better than discombobulating, and adds a shade of humor when at the time it felt herky-jerky.)

I’d been fed a spicy Thai dinner served by my sometimes friend LaLinda, my college love, my young adult goddess.  These many years later she’s still my tokin’ buddy.  Alone together in her living room in the soft light l felt how loaded we were, how gloriously strong and enduring our attraction, that our sexing hadn’t only been about our new skin and carefree hearts.  It turned out to be stronger than that, whatever it had been still existed between us.  I had no idea what was going to happen next which was OK with me since I’d expressed a seismic thought:  it really was forever for us.  Not forever passion, nor forever cold, deeper still was the source and that would not die between us, we were hooked up that way by our natures.

There’s a certain “one for the road” feeling to our love that night, we were in an oasis with clear margins, out of time, like we like to think we were back when we all thought everything mattered so very mucho much.  Older now, we know what matters is the moment because those moments power the world.  LaLinda had topped her high with two shots of tequila, giving her a loose abandoned attitude, so when she pulled out her Big Betties I wasn’t surprised.  She had to be drunk to talk like that, I’d seen this side of her on rare occasion so I knew to turn off the auto-pilot and use my instru­ments for the landing.  She beckoned me from across the room and even from that distance I could tell that she was ready for me.  I’m making the maximum contact with her when I understand we’ll always come down to this, I notch in deeper and press for more:  she’s tangy sassy with a dash of told-you-so, my favorite flavor.

Her attitude toward the Betties was hilarious:  she obviously considered them planted on her chest like man-beacons.  She would ask me, gee, what could she do to hide them?  Look how they rose up in her blouse, surged out of her bra, and once bared were aquiver.  It was immodest of her to point out their solid nubs but she was right, they were very… nubby.  I thrilled at her response to my touch, I trusted her body to tell me what she felt comfortable with, she knew I’d do anything to please her including stopping what displeased her.  She asked if I’d mind if she knelt at the edge of the bed, her panties pulled up with her back bare.  I undercupped her breasts and then pulled her up just a bit, to change the angle of her bottom, then I stopped and she remained on display, I felt her in my arms against my body, but I was still outside of her, still up against her undies until she told me to pull them down.

With her heart in my hands, I let loose my admiration of her every crevice, we were entwined for that specific purpose, we agreed to appreciate simple physical achievements so I prodded her with toys, and swatted her with my cock, we were having a great time for old time’s sake.  She’d be moving on the next day so I loaded her up to the best of my ability.  I gave her tender bites and deep tissue internal massage, I told her how gorgeous she felt in my hands, ripe and rich and oh so ready.

It’s what she liked, what I’d ascertained she liked, and so I gave that to her when she signaled for it.  Usually we were more matter of fact but when she wanted praise and stamina I’d have an extended opportunity to DO stuff to her, I never ever tired of that.

≤÷≥

“I never thought you’d do that.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

≤÷≥

“I thought you’d never do that.”

“I never thought you’d ask.”

≤÷≥

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