My First Taste


I see her name pop up on IM and feel myself start to moisten. She’s young…barely half my age. Pretty, in an athletic, angular way. Sexy as hell. Best part, she thinks I’m beautiful.

She wants to meet. So do I. God, do I. I already have the blessing from my partner. (Eager, salivating, envious blessings.) I have yet to give permission to myself, though. It’s still something so foreign to me. What do I do? I imagine I would just do to her what I think would feel good to me - but is that good enough?

I imagine the taste of her nipples more than anything. I guess that makes me a tit-woman. There’s something about the roundness, the firm swelling, not much more than a handful…and the perkiness, the way they stand perfectly at attention, some 18 years younger than my own, not yet dropped with the weight of the years.

Her firm, flat belly makes me jealous. I want to lick it. Every inch. And that place just outside her breast, under her arm…that soft place that sees so little attention…I want to explore it. I love being stroked there. Will she?

Her pussy is shaved, like mine. I think I will prefer that. To be able to see her sex; pink, ripe, budding open–all mine to enjoy if only for a short while. I wonder, will she smell like me? Taste like me? Will she like how I taste? Do I taste OK? Damn.

It’s like being a virgin all over again. Nothing I had read in the naughty books really prepared me for the fumbling, painful, embarrassing, ordinary reality then. Ordinary. Not extraordinary. But extraordinary is what I desire now. My standards are high, yes. But so much hinges on that first experience. If I don’t enjoy it the first time, I might assume I never will. And, if she doesn’t enjoy it, I may be too scared to try again. Jeez, it must be hell to be a man. I can’t take the pressure, and I don’t even have an erection to keep track of.

I’m scared as hell. And I can’t wait.

Posted by vanessa on October 12th, 2006 .
Filed under: Sexy Stuff, Stuff I Wrote, Stuff On My Mind | 7 Comments »

The Rum Raisin Compromise

com‧pro‧mise  /ˈkɒmprəˌmaɪz/
- a settlement of differences by mutual concessions; an agreement reached by adjustment of conflicting or opposing claims, principles, etc., by reciprocal modification of demands.
- something intermediate between different things: The split-level is a compromise between a ranch house and a multistoried house.
- an endangering, esp. of reputation; exposure to danger, suspicion, etc.: a compromise of one’s integrity.
- to make a dishonorable or shameful concession: He is too honorable to compromise with his principles .

Everything in life is a compromise. So it is in love as well, and sometimes even in sex. The tricky part is knowing which compromises are healthy, and which are risky. Which compromises will strengthen the relationship, and which will, over time, erode its foundation. Some compromises come back to haunt you when it’s too late to change the outcome. A compromise can even change who you are. Now you’re thinking, “what the hell is she talking about?”

I’ll give you an example. More »

Posted by vanessa on September 20th, 2006 .
Filed under: Stuff On My Mind | 10 Comments »


I need Her so badly right now. It’s driving me crazy. I lie awake and think of her touch, so soft and gentle. I feel her moist lips graze my nipple, hard as a marble at the thought of Her. The warm velvet of her skin hums against mine, electric. I quiver. Lush curls cascade down her back as I bury my face and inhale the freshness of her shampoo, the woodsy musk of her perfume. And something else. Magnolias. Of course. When I first called, she hesitated - timid, like me. That hesitation is all but gone now. Now, she’s bold, willing, insatiable. Like me. My jaw suddenly starts to burn like I’m sucking on hard candy as I imagine the taste of Her–tangy, salty…sexy. Only She has that effect on me. Only those green eyes can light a fire inside me that smolders until the next time we meet. Only those sweet lips leave their taste lingering on mine for days, weeks sometimes. It’s been long enough now. Too long. I can’t hold out any longer. I reach for the phone…

Posted by vanessa on September 11th, 2006 .
Filed under: Sexy Stuff, Stuff I Wrote | 2 Comments »

More in journal

About Vanessa...

Vanessa is a genus of butterflies. Common names are American Lady (Vanessa virginiensis), West Coast Lady (Vanessa annabella) and Painted Lady (Vanessa cardui).

I'm Vanessa. I'm always a Lady. Talk to me....

...and then YOU said...

  • Curvaceous Dee: Being happy is a hell of a lot more important than writing to keep us happy. I am so pleased for you!...
  • Pog: Hey Vanessa, Your husband is a very lucky man indeed. Take care, Pog.
  • havingmycake: Very worrying time for you both. Hope there is a good outcome.
  • Curvaceous Dee: *applauds* Oh, I am so pleased! It’s such a rare and special thing, and you well deserve it....
  • lapis ruber: That sounds a really nasty event. Glad you weren’t more seriously injured. Happy belated HNT.