Blast Off!

I watched the launch of the SpaceX Dragon today with unadulterated glee. Along with the thrill of our country again rocketing our astronauts into space, I enhanced the experience by jilling off along with the final countdown right up to blast off. I didn't nail liftoff exactly, but it was close enough for multiple explosive orgasms!

Later I puttered around the casita, doing chores, cleaning, and laundry, but the rush of the launch and the glow of jilling stayed with me all afternoon.

I have a socially distant dinner tonight with Trouble, a GF from her school, and her mom and aunt on their patio. We're all bringing our own food and drink for safety. I'm getting Chinese from my favorite take-out place. I think I'll just wear the little white dress I've had on all day.

Still Wondering What To Do About My Hair

I meant the hair on my head. But, since I'm staying-at-home with few opportunities for intimacy, I let my normally bald mons pubis sprout. I am trimming and conditioning my little triangle with a combination of a depilatory, moisturizer, lotions and a shaver for a short, groomed look that doesn't show even while wearing a Wicked Weasel. It's fun looking like a grown-up down there again and not looking like a 12 year-old.

As for the hair on my head -- Ugh! I've not had a straightening, style or cut since February. I look like a mop.  I uploaded potential styles on Facebook for when I can finally get to my hairdresser after staying-at-home ends. Here are the looks my GFs liked best.

Most Liked	Runner-up
Luna's Favorite	Honorable Mention
Honorable Mention	Honorable Mention

Li'l Red at the Slumber Party

By the time I was old enough to go to a girls’ slumber party (or sleepover) the practice was becoming less accepted. A rite-of-passage for teen girls from the 1950s to the 1970s, the parties fell out of favor as new parents decided they didn’t want their daughters doing what they had done themselves at the all-night shindigs. But I lived in Hollywood and my high school was steeped in the traditions of the Pink Lady’s of Grease and the kickin’ it bitches of Beverly Hills 90210. We had slumber parties, oh yes, and we were "waaayyy" psyched and wicked. Anyway, we thought so.

About five years after Ellen came out of the closet and seven before Katy Perry sang “I Kissed A Girl,” I was known as “Li’l Red” at my high school because I was only 5’4’ tall, ginger, and wonderfully promiscuous. I wasn’t the slut who blew or screwed anyone. I was selective but I selected often and didn’t care who knew. The guys seemed to like that. I mean the school mascot name was “The Sheiks,” thank you.

Fortunately, being a sexually active teen in Hollywood is not uncommon and doesn’t carry the social stigma the way it does in many parts of the country. I was invited to several bitching slumber parties. As you might imagine, slumbering didn’t start until the wee hours of the morning when everyone was exhausted.

Any girl who has been to a slumber knows the drill: What happens at a party, stays at the party (unless it’s just too juicy not to tell); you wear your favorite t-shirt and your prettiest panties (nothing else); in your bedroll, you smuggle in some alcohol or pot to share; and, you make sure only the cutest boys at school know where the party is being held. None of the girls I ran with ever left a slumber party with a boy. The fun was just teasing them and letting the host parents run them off.

Late at night, when parents were giving up on monitoring the party or off to their bedrooms, the games began. Usually, the games involved at least one version of “spin the bottle.” Instead of kissing the girl the bottle pointed to, you offered them “truth or dare.” I remember planning questions and dares all week before a party because we did have a “never be mean rule.” The group could always call “foul” if a question or dare went too far. We had seen far too many movies where this happened and we were, after all, mostly good girls.

I seldom took truth questions because, to me, they weren’t much fun. I didn’t mind telling people most anything. The strangest thing I ever had to do on a dare was peeling a banana with just my feet, then eating it.

At one party where there was a particularly good selection of alcohol, marijuana, and senior girls, one of the stars of the girls’ volleyball team – let’s call her Kara -- spun the bottle and it landed on me. She was tall, on the edge of pretty, with long hair ever in a ponytail. I knew her enough to say hi in the hallway, but no more. “Okay, Li’l Red,” she said, “truth or dare.” The other girls gasped a little at her calling me Li’l Red, but I figured she was trying to make me worry about the challenge. “Truth is boring,” I said bravely, “Dare!”

I don’t know if I am remembering this as it happened exactly, but I think the room got very quiet before she said, “Spend seven minutes in heaven with me.” A huge community “Whoa!” rang out. Every eye in the room was on me. Someone whispered, “Foul?” I shook my head.  Returning Kara’s questioning gaze, I said, “Sure, why not?”

We were escorted to our host’s closet which was remarkably large and smelled like cedar. The light was turned out, the door closed, and our seven minutes began. We whispered, at first, Kara making sure I was okay with her, with the dare. I wasn’t sure, but her strong arms holding me, her hands touching my face, and her gentle kisses that made their way from my neck to my mouth convinced me I was fine, more than fine. I kissed her back, again and again.

And then, it seemed only one or two minutes later, the door swung open, the light came on, and the party found us, me on my tiptoes, in Kara’s arms. All the girls cheered and we continued the game. Kara and I became very good friends.

Update on "The Loophole" and Garfunkel and Oates

I remember vaguely hearing of Garfunkel and Oates when they did a short-lived TV series on the Independent Film Channel (IFC). After posting the concert version of The Loophole here a few friends provided the full 411 on these amazing chicks. I am still binging on their clever and wildly funny songs and videos.

Here is the official video of The Loophole.

And for those curious about trying it ...

I first experienced anal in high school because boys saw it in pornos and thought (wrongly) that girls wanted it. At university I learned it can be nuanced and fun with the right partner(s). A more comfortable substitute is an anal toy, but that is for another blog post.

Enjoy, butt be careful :-) Here is a link from Cosmo to help you get started:

From Cosmo Magazine: Buttplay for the Wary

Semester Done, Time for Fun!

Finals are graded, end-of-semester paper work is done. I'm not teaching this summer and my travel will likely be very limited. But, I'm happy, feeling free, and yearning for an end to social-distancing. But, I'm going to be a good girl and stay home, keeping safe. I think it is #TooSoon to open the country as much as the politicians and business interests want. I am hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.

I'm keeping my spirits up though. I will be increasing my exercise routine, reading time, music time, writing time, and Zoom time with friends -- sometimes with virtual benefits, woo hoo!

I found a little tune for Luna over on Facebook by Garfunkel and Oates to cheer her up. Then, I found this little tune that cracked me up. I hope it makes you laugh too.

Trouble Finishes the Story

I was thinking about Luna Gloaming’s Facebook post about getting a little bored with walking around the neighborhood during this stay-at-home period. Thankfully, the desert around my casita offers delightful variety, including wildlife, so it is always stimulating. It was even more so this morning as I found Trouble walking too just after sunrise. We walked together for about an hour and a half. She decided how the story of the woman on the river trip ended. And, in her mind, the “woman” became a teenager. I should have seen that coming and how the story evolved in the mind of a 14-year-old. Here’s Trouble’s take on what happened after the “girl” put her swimsuit back on and joined her river group.

“The Girl”

The girl didn’t understand why at least a few of the other people on her river trip didn’t shuck their swimsuits to sun and skinny dip. She had seen Sparks’ group, naked on the rocks and it seemed the thing to do. The girl endured the humiliating walk back to the boats. No one spoke to her.

As the group was getting back on their boats, one of the guides, Sam (Trouble gave him a name), asked her to walk down the beach for a talk. The girl thought she was in serious trouble, but Sam simply told her if she wanted to sunbathe or swim naked, to let him know and he’ll let her stay at a pool or waterfall a few minutes longer than the rest of the people. He would give her 10 minutes or so to herself and anyone who wanted to stay with her.

“Who would want to stay?” the girl asked, “these people must hate me now.”

“No, not all,” Sam said. He told her that this was not uncommon and not to worry. He pointed to another girl, Sally, who was on the trip. The girl had met Sally two days earlier, but Sally was super quiet, never talked to anyone but her parents who were also on the trip. “I’m going to take you and Sally on my boat for the next couple of days, you’ll see.”

As the days passed and the girl got to know Sally, they talked and talked, sometimes long into the night as they began camping together, away from the group. And as they became good friends, they both opened up and became more confident. And, at pools and waterfalls, they would linger, as Sam had promised and sunned and swam naked, if only for a few moments. And, toward the end of the trip, Sam would join them.

The End

After I heard the story, I asked why Trouble had named Sam and Sally, but not the girl? Trouble said to finish the story, she had to become the girl in her imagination.

After our walk, we went to my casita and made biscuits, gravy, and fried eggs. I called her mom and aunt to join us, but they had already eaten. So, I had Trouble all to myself most of the morning. It was joyful. What a great kid.

A Morning Walk

This is sort of a reprise of something I posted on Facebook this morning. I couldn't post this photo over there, so here is, essentially, what I wore on my morning walk. I woke up with the sun and the cool desert air beckoned to me. My house guests were still snoozing but I needed to get outside.

Feeling very, very naughty, I slipped on a fishnet top that I usually use as a swimsuit cover-up -- only I skipped the swimsuit. I was thinking it was too early for most of my neighbors to be out, so I braved it.

Whoa! I ran into seven people out walking already! Since the neighborhood practices "social distancing" even while outside, I stayed as far from them as I could. I still wished everyone an energetic "good morning," and waved. It took only two waves for me to realize this made my boobs jiggle and highlighted the fact that I was naked under the fishnet.

I stopped the waving part of my greetings. Yet, I think only three realized I was completely naked under the fishnet.

The exhibitionist in me was thrilled. It took several minutes for my heart to stop pounding when I got back to my casita. Even now, I'm still in my little top, waiting for my house guests to wake up. I think I'll give them a peek before I put on a swimsuit and take a dip in the pool. It's going to be a fun day.

Clothing Optional Hike

If you read me on Facebook you know that I had a wonderful hike to a “clothing optional” creek and waterfall yesterday. The experience renewed my spirit!

Aside from the joy of being out enjoying nature in the buff, I appreciated being with close friends from my university days during this time of sheltering-at-home. I am also so lucky to have neighbors who are friends who can meet at the pool (a safe distance away) or during sunrise walks in the desert. Yes, I know I am exceptionally fortunate.

Therefore, I’ve been doing my best to do what I can for my students, many of whom are having difficulties related to the lock-down and COVID-19. I’ve been sewing masks like mad and have now completed almost 200 for a local medical center and nursing home. And I contribute to the food bank and am supporting Democrat candidates in local, state, and national races. I make phone calls. I Skype, Facetime, and Zoom for my causes. Doing positive things, doing good work helps keep my head on straight. I’m not a goody-two-shoes or as dedicated a volunteer as many people I know. But I’m trying in the ways I know how to make things better overall in my community.

I guess the message today is “get outside” if you can, make contact with a friend, and do something positive. It is helping me get through these tough times.

Finally, those following the thread from my last post, I haven't seen or heard from Trouble yet on finishing the story of the woman who "almost" joined me for nude sun bathing on a river trip. Stay tuned.

Cleaning the Pool

Today was my turn to do the morning skimming of the community pool. A few members of our neighborhood volunteer to do simple chores to keep the pool clean and safe. At sunrise, the only neighbors who are up are usually out walking in the desert, so I thought I would have the pool to myself. Feeling a bit naughty, I slipped into one of my old Wicked Weasel bikinis – a few straps of spandex with fabric not much larger than postage stamps.

I was happily skimming fluffy, yellow palo verde pollen from the water, and listening to a Bangles album through my AirPods when I thought I heard someone calling my name. Turning toward the voice, I discovered Trouble, my young teen neighbor, calling to me from across the pool.

I removed my AirPods and said “good morning.” She stared at me – or I should say, at my almost nothing of a bikini – and declared, “I’ll be right back to help,” and scampered off.

About ten minutes later, Trouble came back to the pool wearing four tiny, orange triangles of fabric, held in place by white strings tied in perfect little bows. Easily, she exposed as much skin as I, but I didn’t say anything. I remember wearing impossibly small bikinis at her age and not feeling anything but proud of my body and the thrill of showing it off.

She found the pool brush and joined me. I remembered something that happened on a river trip a few summers ago and told her the story.

Our river group, 10 of us, stopped at a side-canyon on the Colorado River, where we knew a pretty creek and a patio of rock offered a place to dip and sun. We all knew each other well. Like so many river groups, we didn’t bother with swimsuits. We swam, had lunch, and all sunned ourselves, ten of us naked on the rocks with not a care in the world.

Not long after getting settled, we heard another river group coming up the creek. This is not uncommon, to encounter other groups on the river. The first of the group arrived that included a beautiful, young blonde woman in a jet-black one-piece swimsuit. She spied us all nude on the rocks, grinned ear-to-ear, and was out of her suit in seconds. She was near to me and gestured toward a large flat rock near me saying, “May I?” 

“Sure,” I said. She laid out on the rock, as naked as I was, seemingly in complete bliss.

She was on a commercial trip, so her guide waited for the rest of her group to catch up. Soon, they all came marching up the trail and stopped cold, glaring disapprovingly at my group, as well as the young blonde. They just stood there, apparently appalled at the sight of naked people, especially one of their own.

The blonde was mortified, almost in tears. She got up and put on her suit. With her head hung low, she rejoined her group as they returned to the river without joining us, without enjoying the lovely little side canyon. It occurred to my group that we perhaps should have jumped up and put our swimsuits on. But, honestly, we just didn’t think of it in time.

Trouble said, “That’s so sad. It must have been terrible for her.”

“Tell you what,” I said, “think about what might have happened after she rejoined her group. Make up a story and tell it to me tomorrow.” Trouble thought for a moment. She smiled and agreed.

We finished cleaning the pool, talking about her life. Her school work is all online (not great, she says), and she has only one more week. Her social life right now is TicTok, Instagram, and Zoom and she is afraid the summer will be long and lonely.

I am looking forward to hearing her story tomorrow.

Friends, Benefits & the "Virus Zeitgeist"

We watched the sun go down over the mountains sipping a cool Chardonnay, enjoying a gentle, warm breeze. My friend was driving through on her way to California and stopped over for the night. She works in a tourist industry that is currently shut down in a state with almost no cases of COVID-19. Still, we were both being cautious, keeping six feet away from each other. We didn't wear masks, we were outside, after all.  It seemed oddly silly because we had often slept together in the past and know each other’s desires and bodies in intimate detail.

I told her I have been a very good girl during the virus outbreak, sheltering-at-home, only going out for necessities, and certainly not having sex with anyone. She told me the little city where her company was located was a ghost town now and had virtually no cases of the virus. She drove straight through to my place, only stopping for gas. She wore disposable gloves pumping the gas and had made sandwiches for the journey so she wouldn't have to stop for fast food.

After catching up on small talk, we pondered why we weren't in each other's arms. Despite knowing each other since university and knowing we had both been very careful about social distancing and such, there was still this overwhelming feeling we needed to be cautious. Neither of us had been tested for the virus, there was no reason to be because none of our movements would indicate, even remotely, exposure.

After opening another bottle of wine and an animated discussion, we decided that the "virus zeitgeist" was strong. We realized we were caught in it up even though we could logically assume -- with high probability, of course -- that neither of us was infected. We laughed at our perfectly reasonable deductions and made dinner and love. There were several midnight snacks and treats as well. 

We were both rested and refreshed when I sent her on to California with a bag of sandwiches and goodies. We agree, we have to live with the "virus zeitgeist" but we don't have to stop living and loving, as long as we are careful and can trust.

Being Good

I'm being good, sheltering-at-home, grading students' work, taking walks, swimming, and making myself work out. I have mostly been alone the last couple of days.

<rant>
I read the newspaper, online news, Facebook. All these protesters carrying assault weapons, people wanting to boycott Costco because the store is requiring customers to wear masks, and Californians demonstrating because the beaches are closed (all without masks, of course) make me so angry. I always knew Americans could be stupid. Lately, though, they seem to have taken stupid to a new level. And I blame an ignorant, criminal president, his family and his administration for setting the tone. No, protesters with assault weapons are not "some very good people," they are terrorists.
</rant>

I include this photo by Val Mont, a German photographer from Munich. His work speaks to me, often making me feel, somehow. that he is capturing the essence of who I am, who I want to be, and how I want to look -- "just a girl." I know, I know, I'm a grown woman, a professional, a fully realized person ... but I will always be, in my heart, "just a girl."

Be safe. Be well.

Sparks' Guilty Pleasures

I tried to get my Facebook friends to post their guilty pleasures, but the response was limited. Oh well, here are mine. Stay safe, be well.