A winter walk on the Crystal Pier
Oh, look, so sweet. A heart carved into the railing.
A love heart for M and B. I hope they are still in love.
Here is another heart. N and J. It doesn’t seem so worn.
This is the pier Peter and I walked on the first week we met.
I’m glad we didn’t carve a heart with our initials in it.
He died five years ago and he needed to die.
He was a con artist and an alcoholic. I miss him.
The first time was in an apartment in the University district of Seattle. I was with Ibrahim Ibrahim who was an exchange student from Sudan in Civil Engineering. He looked like my dad but black.
After the condom broke he said “Oh my goodness!” and then he left the country to go back to Sudan. Oh my, time has a way of putting things into new perspectives. He was a beautiful man and I wonder where he is now?
He might think he has a child in America as I told him I was pregnant on the phone as he was half way back to Sudan. We never talked again and I had an abortion. I feel him there in Sudan sometimes when the news of the world focuses on the atrocities there.
He had two mothers and nineteen brothers and sisters.
We had connected at the University of Washington with a glance across a crowded room. Magnetic. We were at a reception for exchange students and I was a freshman in college.
This was in 1966 and he lived alone. I was in the sorority then and I would go across the quad under the massive display of cheerry blossoms there to meet him. He thought I was beautiful and would walk me back. That is when the sorority started noticing.
We knew each other several months before we had sex and I struggled with the idea of being a “good girl” for marriage. When that condom broke and I got pregnant it seemed like a dream. Still does. I went to Japan for the abortion and told my mother.
“Oh, my goodness.” I can still hear him saying that.
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Ha, so you really think I am going to tell you about the last time I had sex!? Let’s just say that I am thinking of the last time because I am old and everything is getting more precious as I age. The last time I had a hot fudge sundae was yesterday and I enjoyed every bite.
The last time I had sex it was wonderful. Probably the best I have ever had in my long, sensual life. It was physically and emotionally satisfying and the ecstasy will be with me for an eternity.
Sometimes the best of anything is just a little off the radar. If you have too many expectations and committments you can get far, far away from even thinking about sex. I think masturbation is important for health and well being.
So I guess I could say that the last time I had sex was with me this morning. I was snuggled in bed with Ted e Bear reading a Piers Anthony book called GHOSTS about celestial star time travel and I just pushed my button a little relentlessly as I read and then my mind went over the moon for a bit and when I came back I felt better.
Time travel is going to be possible very soon. Get ready.
I have loved the website called Second Life since 2006. It is getting more real to go there all the time. I was almost sucked into that reality once but now my internet connection is slow and that is a good thing. Otherwise I might just disappear into that space.
I was walking around there one Saturday Night and I checked out the nude beaches. Wild Coast has been in SL forever and is extremely intricate and cliquey. There is a campfire where people dance around naked. Once my avatar had high heels on there and I was asked to take them off or leave. The site used to charge to be there but on this visit I just hung in the air above the campfire and spied on people.
I had a wild affair here once with a member who took me way up in the trees to a little house where I finally told him how old I was in real life and then I never saw him again. We had fun while it lasted and he said he really didn’t care. Second Life is full of illusions just like real life.
One of my favorite avatars and I still meet once in awhile. My slow internet connection made it impossible to use a couple animation and it was frustrating. So we just sat in this tree and talked. We can turn each other on with our words.
I wonder if I will still be cruising Second Life when I am ninety. Sounds like fun.
I have always had a dominating voice in my mind that takes control of my orgasms. It relieves me of the responsibility for giving myself a “good one”. This doesn’t happen every time but if I really want to cum I can bring it in to take over and it gets the job done. It is so nice to cum and relax that I have used this voice and I don’t quite know what to think about it. I had a controlling mother so that has shaped my life. I am constantly trying to get past her control but it seem to serve me well too.
I have had controlling lovers who claim my pussy as theirs and I gave it to them willingly. They did the job so well all I had to do was surrender and they took me to heights over and over again that were pure ecstasy. Ecstasy! Unfortunately it is difficult to live with a control freak. So sad that they cannot manage life without the power. I have enjoyed being a submissive and it has served me well in many real life situations. It is also annoying sometimes that I don’t take more control in life and I am not a success.
Lately I have had a lover who is a coach. He encourages me to cum over and over again until the orgasms blend in a long line and I am totally satisfying. There is no question that he is in control but he does not make me feel bad about wanting to cum. The voice in my head can be rather mean and demeaning, calling me names and being impatient. I had a new lover who wanted to know if I liked to talk dirty. “No”. No no no no no. I don’t like that. So why do I like it in the privacy of my mind? It is powerful stuff.
When I was married for twenty five years with no orgasms my simple husband could not understand my wanting a spanking or humiliating turn ons. He just liked to play and that is fine but I had issues to face and no time for simple pleasures that didn’t involve a woman having an orgasm. It seems to me that is important in world matters too. Women deserve an orgasm and need to be encouraged to have one or many.
As I get older I know myself pretty well. I like a lover who loves with a firm knowledge of and interest in a woman’s body. I have no time for people who can’t help me over that threshold to a release. I used to get myself all rubbed up and then my old boyfriend would cum in and take me over the edge. He only used two fingers but he was very good with them. He honored my orgasms and liked quiet and focus as much as I did. Too bad he died as we would have been a good old married couple together.
As I face these later years alone for the most part at least I have the voices in my head and a lifetime of memories to keep me going.
There are things I say in this blog that are about other people. I hope they never see these essays and get hurt. I have been told to take some stories down by someone and I did. If you are reading about yourself here and want me to take things down just say so.
I understand that cyberspace never dies. I have stories to tell and I love having his place to tell them. This is a sensual blog. I am not an ordinary old lady. I like sex. That usually involves other people and so I am apologizing ahead of time if I have been too open and brutal.
Apparently I am too tough. A Sagittarian who likes to tell things outloud that other people don’t want to hear or say. I get in trouble. I am not a bad person tho doing this blog out of anger. I try to treat all my lovers with kindness even if the relationship can’t go on. But ending something usually means feelings are hurt.
I cry. Sometimes it takes awhile to get over someone. Sometimes years. Sometimes never. They will always be with me in some way. I love having his place to write honestly and I still only tell a small part of what happens in my life. There are some things that are just too intimate or painful.
But in the name of freedom of expression, especially today after the shootings in Paris of cartoonists who made fun of Islam I am wary. In other times and places I could be put to death for how I live and what I write here.
Peace please.
Zanelle 