On the River Part 3

 

The last night of a river trip I am perennially amazed at how quickly the days in my beloved canyons slip by. No matter the length of the trip, 3 days or 16, on the last night I gaze into the campfire or at the brilliant night sky and wonder at how river time seems different than the normal passing of days.

After a bath in the river and dinner, our small group gathered around what is known, inappropriately, as a "squaw fire" -- a small, unobtrusive, and spare campfire, not a bonfire like many novice river runners build. We warmed ourselves with the fire, whiskey, and wine, as well as our friendship before turning to our tents and bedrolls.

Steve was unusually quiet as he led me down the beach, away from our tent, and behind a large boulder where we would not be seen from camp. There, he had set up our sleep kits on a groundsheet in the soft sand. Our tent would be the canopy of stars overhead tonight.

He lifted the only piece of clothing I was wearing, an old, soft sweatshirt from my USC days, over my head. Holding my hands, he gently tied my wrists together with a length of nylon cord. Then, laying me down, he hooked my tied wrists to a large tent stake he had buried at the head of our sleeping bags.

I tried to speak a few times, but he shushed me with smiles and only whispered, "Be a good girl, Sparky."

And I was a good girl, very good. I obeyed him, his every order, opening up to him, spreading, rolling over, bending, kissing, licking, swallowing, all while tied to the stake.

And Steve loved every inch of me with his strong hands and fingers, his mouth, and his tongue. And he loved me with his cock in ways you only see in the high-quality videos made for women. Tied up, thrilled at playing helpless, I worshipped Steve's cock and he rewarded me with it joyfully.

Afterward, he untied me and we spooned, his arms around me, keeping, protecting, safe.

I woke later that night. The stars blazed overhead so brightly I swear there were star shadows on the canyon walls. And as warm and cuddly and satisfied as I felt with Steve, I found myself thinking of the women and girls in my life and longing to make love to them too.

On the River Part 2

On the second day of the trip, we passed the river "put in" that is the most popular for Labyrinth Canyon. It was here that at least six other groups joined us on the river, four of which were student groups from Utah universities. Up until that day, we had seen only two other canoes on the river.

I knew Utah universities had outdoor activities programs, I didn't think that they would be on the river during the pandemic. Yet, there they were, large groups young 18-22 year olds with no masks and no social distancing. Although the students were largely Mormon, they exhibited the uninhibited behavior of most university students on holiday. I am accustomed to wearing little, or nothing, on the river, but I was not prepared for the young Mormon girls in tiny thong and g-string bikinis that I'd expect to see in Huntington Beach. And it wasn't just a few of the young women exposing themselves so liberally. Most of the girls' tushes were uncovered, tanned, and tight and their breasts were equally exposed.

It took me a moment to appreciate this. It made me smile. The young women were celebrating their bodies, unashamed, flaunting what nature had provided. They were reveling in their skin for themselves and for each other. Steve laughed at me when I mentioned how much I enjoyed seeing the scantily clad girls. He knows I am predisposed to play for the other team more often than not.

On the fourth evening of the trip, I was chopping vegetables with one of the women in our group. We were topless wearing only panties as we often are after bathing and before dinner.  Looking up river, one of these student trips started to pull in on the beach right next to us, much too close. River etiquette requires space between groups for privacy, quiet. 

Without putting on a top, I donned a mask and walked over to where they were landing. Bare breasted, I greeted them and asked that they move further away down the sand bar and to the other side. It was their trip leader, a young stud with rippling abs, that gasped, hemmed, and hawed, his eyes locked on my nipples, who replied. "Oh, yeah, sure, yes ma'am ... we're figuring that out now ... of course." 

"Thanks," I said to him then turned to the group, brazenly arched my back to emphasize my small breasts and shouted to them, "Ya'll have a great trip, be safe!" I waved, which made my breasts jiggle ever so nicely and walked back to my camp.

The students paddled by our camp a few moments later moving to camp down stream. Watching them paddle by, I noticed an interesting change among the girls. Two of them were now topless. Both of them waved at me, grinning. I gave them a big "shaka" sign and they happily returned it.

On the River - Part 1

Paddling a canoe through Labyrinth Canyon on the Green River in Utah was a welcome and needed respite from staying-at-home and teaching online. The joy of being on the river discovering new, incredibly beautiful canyon walls and side canyons rejuvenated my spirt and recharged my senses. Six days paddling with a few friends, not having to worry about social distancing was a small joy, and camping, cooking, eating and sleeping under dark Utah skies helped me forget the turmoil of the politics in our country -- for a while at least.

My dear friend, Steve, (with benefits) since my days at USC and I shared a 16 ft. canoe and camping gear. We took six friends in three other canoes to pack our kitchen, food, water for six days, adult beverages, and a couple of guitars. The weather was perfect, 90 degree days, 60 degree nights, clear skies, no rain. We lived in swimsuits (or less) during the day and donned a warm top for nights and for campfire time. Each day we had a planned hike to a side canyon or to an historical site along the river, so the days were full of varied activities and, occasionally, an adventure.

Steve invited me on the river trip only about two weeks before launch. We tried to fall in love at university -- because the sex was otherworldly -- but liked each other too well in such a way that romance seemed superfluous. So over the years, we've become sort of besties and fuck buddies. It works for us.

But, I was surprised when Steve told me at the beginning of the trip that he didn't want to take advantage of our unique relationship and that he didn't invite me for sex, he invited his friend for the experience.  I wasn't sure what that meant, but agreed. So the first two days of the trip, we worked and played together, enjoying the river, keeping things non-sexual in the tent at night. On the third day, after arriving at our camp, we bathed, as usual, in the river. We found a great flat rock from which we could dunk in the river easily without sinking into muddy sands. Naked, clean and refreshed, we lay out on the sun warmed rock. Steve fell asleep, flat on his back, almost immediately as the warm afternoon sun dried his tanned skin.  I watched his breathing grow deep and steady and almost nodded off myself.

Then, his breathing changed, increased, and I saw the reason why. His penis was as erect as I had ever seen it. And yes, I had seen it quite a few times. It was almost magical, hard, straight up, catching the sunlight. Steve smelled of soap and the river and his skin still glistened wet from our bath. It was too much for me.

Placing my towel under my knees, I leaned over Steve, relaxed my jaw, dropped a load of spit on his cock, took it into my mouth and down my throat until my lips reached the hilt. I knew from experience Steve's shaft would fit down my throat without serious gagging. After about four of these oral strokes, Steve awoke and put his hand in my hair. I looked up at him as I came up for air. 

"Hi baby," I said, "is this okay?" Steve has always said I give the best blow jobs of any girl he has ever been with. "Would you rather fuck?" I said because I really wanted him inside me.

"Sparks," he replied, "I want your mouth, no one gives head .... " Yeah, I knew. So, I sucked him off, making sure I took all of him into my throat as often as my gagging reflex would allow. When he came minutes later, he gushed like a geyser and filled my mouth with as much jizz, I think, as I have ever had to swallow.

That night, and each night thereafter, we resumed our "friends with benefits" relationship.

I'll write more about the trip later.

Be safe, be well.

Tutoring Day - Writing and Citations

 

No, not the girls, but this is similar to my trio of students.

Today's lesson for my three high school students was "Writing and Citations."

We took our content from the headlines of the last few days. Their in-class assignment was to find an exemplary essay or opinion piece from the news and determine what kind of references, examples, or testimonies were used (or not used) to prove a point or identify a truth.

I asked the girls to use their laptops to look at several online newspapers, web sites, and, of course, Facebook, to find writing that met the criteria of backing up or illuminating a thesis to establish truth or fact. The landed on The Political Pundits of TickTok in The New York Times and proceeded to analyze the validity of the article.

I presented scholarly styles of citations but they much preferred the embedded hypertext links in the article. Indeed, they said they expect embedded links in all online documents. They followed the links in the article and decided that the sources were credible. Besides, they said, they know first hand that TikTok is where they and their get news, along with Instagram, Twitter. Facebook? Not so much. "My mom uses Facebook a lot," one of the girls said.

Their homework is to keep track of articles they read and determine if the writer properly uses references and citations to prove their point or illuminate their opinions. I know, it sounds dry, but I could tell from the girls' reactions, they had not thought a great deal about proving a point or establishing truth in writing with references. This is advanced for their age. I hope I am not expecting too much from 15-year-olds.

Playing in the Backyard

 

It's not nasty, it's nice. The naughty feelings and sensations are enticing, exotic, erotic. Thinking about it, the anticipation, the preparation, then finally, the penetration gives me an adrenaline rush and a kind of sexual arousal unlike anything else. Using it alone to augment a little self-love or with a partner for sex or spanking or whatever, it always adds a special something. With a partner, half the fun is letting them insert it along with some playful rimming.

One important thing though. Plan ahead, be safe, and be clean, even pristine. In the movie Forgetting Sarah Marshall, a man on his honeymoon is repulsed by his new bride wanting to ass play. He says, "If God was a city planner he would not put a playground next to a sewage system." The lesson here is to get fresh and clean. If I know I am going to play in the backyard, I watch my diet a few days before, treat myself to an enema, and, just before, a final anal douche. Nothing can spoil ass play like stink.

As it turns out I'm home alone this Labor Day. And that's okay. I'm getting some personal quiet time and grading student essays. I took a swim around noon, took a cool shower, then washed my hair. Afterward, I absorbed the better part of a bottle of Nivea skin moisturizer. Finally, I plopped a large glob of lube on my ass and my four-inch silicone butt plug, bent over my vanity, and slipped my little friend in my anus. My silicone plug is soft and wide so I can wear it for quite a while not worrying it will pop out.

Just for fun, I added a pair of OTK socks (like the photo), cause they make me look "cute and powerful." I'm waiting a while before I touch myself. Wearing the plug, the socks, create tension and anticipation that heightens the experience if I just wait for a while.

 It's inside me as I type this, my legs spread wide at my stand-up desk.

Happy Labor Day!

Dreams and Darkness

 

Thursday is one of two days of the week I tutor three teen-aged girls who are attending their high school fully online this fall. I like Thursdays because it is our "dress-up" day. The girls and I wear simple, pretty dresses that we might have worn in person before the pandemic. Yesterday was such a day.

It was also a deadline day. The girls turned in essays describing a "dream" they wish could have or want to have, a dream so real it would create a feeling that might stay with them for a long time after waking.

I did not expect what they read aloud, taking turns, sharing their dreams. It's not appropriate that I would share the individual dreams, but I can share a theme they all had in common: Darkness and overcoming it. They all had a terrible or evil obstacle to overcome, they all deeply involved their friends, social media was a centerpiece, two girls had bullies in their dreams, while one had a school shooter. All the girls defeated the darkness and emerged stronger women, facing a brighter day. There was no romance, no sex.

It seems to me their dreams were compilations of video games, movies, and dark young adult novels influenced by the pandemic and insane politics of today.

They had not shared their work with each other, hoping, I think, for surprises in the tutoring session. We talked at the length about their stories and why there were so many striking similarities in them. I honestly haven't heard a better discussion in college sophomore literature classes. They came away from the session thinking about current culture, media, political climate, fear, and originality in storytelling.

During our "bull session" and snacks after the session, I asked why none of them had included any romance in their dreams.

"We can't write about that!" they agreed. Trouble added, "It's too dangerous. No one is making out or having sex now." All the girls nodded.

I sensed from these girls, and my college students, that sex was far less interesting than a year ago. When I looked up some statistics, I discovered this short piece from the New York Times. Sex among high schoolers has been on the decline for some time. As well all know, it's fallen off drastically among adults too.

IDA OF THE DAY: SEX, DELAYED

The decline of high school sex continues.

In the early 1990s, slightly more than half of U.S. teenagers had sexual intercourse before graduating from high school. Last year, only 38 percent of high school graduates had done so, according to recently released government survey data. The decline spans demographic groups and has been sharpest among Black teenagers.

By The New York Times | Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

These trends are part of “a more general turn away from risky behavior among teens,” Charles Fain Lehman writes for the Institute for Family Studies. “As psychologist Jean Twenge has documented, contemporary teens not only have less sex but also drink alcohol less and drive less.” Those who do have sex are more likely to use contraception.

There is a worrisome side to the trend, though, as Kate Julian explained in a 2018 Atlantic article about the “sex recession”: It seems to be a part of a larger shift away from social activity and physical intimacy among young people, even before the pandemic.