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Meanderings from an opinionated bottom.

To Thigh or Not to Thigh?
Posted:Oct 17, 2019 2:18 pm
Last Updated:Oct 17, 2019 11:10 pm
125 Views
For spankos -- do you think a spanking should be bottom only, or do the best ones extend down to the upper thighs a bit?

I have a love/hate relationship with upper thigh spanking. No doubt the smacks on the sit spots are felt more when sitting later. But they also hurt more, and mark more. Sometimes, with a trusted partner, I like to go there. Not always, though. It's a little edgy.

So what do y'all think? And which picture do you prefer?

7 Comments
Well, now...
Posted:Oct 3, 2019 3:41 pm
Last Updated:Oct 6, 2019 11:01 pm
696 Views
Guess who isn't waiting anymore?

How do I spell relief? S-P-A-N-K-I-N-G.
10 Comments
Ever feel...
Posted:Sep 25, 2019 5:54 pm
Last Updated:Oct 3, 2019 3:37 pm
1189 Views
... like you've spent a really, awfully, horribly, REALLY, extremely long time...

... I mean, reallllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllly long-ass time...

... waiting for a spanking?
11 Comments
And speaking of The Age Thing...
Posted:Sep 10, 2019 1:49 pm
Last Updated:Oct 17, 2019 10:47 am
2260 Views
... have I mentioned how much I hate the term "mature"? It's right up there with "cougar," in my estimation. It's just another one of those cute euphemisms for "old." It's not a compliment.

My standard answer to "mature" is attached. I created it all by my little old self -- puts my point across, don'cha think?
20 Comments
Why 84?
Posted:Sep 5, 2019 2:03 pm
Last Updated:Oct 2, 2019 2:16 pm
2253 Views
I'm sure there are some who wonder why I list myself as 84 years old. That is definitely not my real age. Well, I had to put something. There isn't an option for "None of your fucking business."

So why lie about my age and make myself older?? Because I can't bring myself to lie about being younger. And I'm damned if I'm going to put my real age down. Because if I did, a whole lot of people wouldn't look past that number. "Ugh! That's too old!" and poof, off they go to the next profile. Without really looking at me or reading anything about me.

Whether you want to admit it or not, we live in an ageist society. Especially when it comes to women. Youth is worshiped. There are double standards galore. If an older man goes for pretty , he's a stud. A silver fox. A Daddy type. Older women liking younger men? We're MILFs and cougars. Great, I'm either a mom or a man-eating predatory beast. I assure you, I am neither.

Compliments take on an appendage once a woman reaches a certain age. When you're young and attractive, people say you look good. Period. Once you hit 40, they start tacking on "... for your age." Newsflash, y'all. Any compliment that ends with "for your age" is NOT a compliment. At best, it's a backhanded compliment. And the only place where I want to be backhanded is on my butt, not my ego.

People are allowed to have age preferences; I get it. I have them as well. Most of them are not because of the number, but because a lot of people my age, frankly, don't take care of themselves. (Actually, a lot of younger people don't either, but I digress.) I work hard to keep fit and trim and I am a youthful being. I've never been married, never had , so I guess a part of me stayed in my 20s and always will be. As I say on my profile, the men I'm drawn to don't have to be vegans built like Adonis, but since I take care of myself, I prefer they do too.

I've been dealing with this age crap for years, . Quite some time ago, it was before a national spanking party, and on their message board, a guy had introduced himself, saying he was coming to his first party. He wrote, "I am looking forward to meeting people in their 20s and 30s." Really? He had to make a point of specifying the age range? I made a note of his name, as it was unusual.

Cut to the party. In a crowded room, I see this guy hovering around me in my peripheral vision. Then one of my friends says, "Erica, have you met Xxxxx?" Aha... the age-specifying . I shook his hand and said, "Ah... aren't you the one who posted on the message board that you were looking forward to meeting people in their 20s and 30s?" He nodded, beaming. I beamed a sweet smile right back at him and said, "Aw, that's too bad. I'm 45." And I turned my back and started talking to someone else.

Yeah, I'm a b*tch. But I bet he thought twice before writing anything like that again.

So, 84 I will remain on here. What's my real age? Sorry -- I'll tell you after we talk a bit and we meet in person. Until then, here's a picture from last month, nice vanilla head shot. You can guess for yourselves.

(Wow... I'm going to be 85 in a couple of weeks. I really am getting up there.)
12 Comments
Is the art of communication dead?
Posted:Sep 4, 2019 3:35 pm
Last Updated:Oct 17, 2019 10:47 am
2289 Views

Pondering life in the middle of Hump Day. Because why not. I have my own blog, but this is the first time I've ever posted one here.

I’m old enough to remember a time when if you wanted to communicate to someone immediately, you had two choices: see them in person, or call them on the phone. And if you called them, you took your chances that they weren’t home and wouldn’t answer. There was no voicemail. Or they were already on the phone and you got a busy signal. If you had an emergency and had to get through, you dialed the operator and had them break in on the call. People weren’t all that accessible. But somehow, they got things done. They made plans. They did communicate.

Now, people are basically accessible 24/7. Many of us have a phone on our person or at our fingertips at all hours. But we don’t have to make phone calls anymore if we don’t want to. There is texting. There is email. There is online messaging. There is Skype. You can communicate with anyone, anywhere, anytime.

So why do people communicate less now? How did we get so damn busy, so distracted, that we have the attention spans of gnats? Do we have too much stimulation? Is there simply too much to do and too little time in which to do it? Or do we just not care all that much anymore?

I can understand that in other times, people didn’t have the time to devote a large chunk of it to a visit, or to a long phone conversation. But now, it takes, literally, a matter of seconds to let someone know you’re thinking about them. You can fire off a text. You can drop an email.

My partner John and I talk about this. His standard explanation is, “People are busy. And they’re afraid that if they engage, they’ll get caught up and obligated to keep responding.” Yeah, god forbid we should have to respond to others; what a burden. Okay, so people are too busy to answer a text? How come they’re not too busy to binge-watch hours and hours of streaming TV? Or play games online? Or engage in social media until their eyes bug out?

Last weekend, John and I went out to a nice dinner to celebrate our anniversary. There was a family of three at the table next to ours — a dad, a mom, and a teenage boy. While they sat and waited for their food, all three of them stared down at their phones in front of them. They didn’t say a word to each other. The phones weren’t put aside until they got their dinner, and after they were through, the phones were picked up again. Why bother going out together?

In the past couple of days, I’ve gotten a text that reads: “Sorry, I can’t talk to you right now.” I have no idea who the sender is. I don’t know the number. Not only is this person too busy to talk, they’re apparently too busy to even bother to check if they’re texting the right number.

People have the time to travel everywhere to convene with friends. But they don’t seem to have time to spend with local ones.

So what you have is billions of people, with every possible way to connect… and who feel more alone and isolated than ever.

We all want to feel special. We all want to matter. And yes, we all crave attention and validation; some people more than others. So what do we do? Some of us become performers. We provide entertainment until people get bored with us and move on to the latest and greatest performer. Some of us go on really crappy reality shows and make complete asses of ourselves, but hey, at least people are noticing us. That is, until the next hot mess supersedes us. Some people make a whole lot of noise on social media, gathering followers and constantly posting/tweeting to keep their name on feeds. Until they stop… and no one notices. And in extreme cases, some others, feeling disenfranchised and forgotten, get guns and go on shooting rampages with them.

Some strive to stay connected, throwing out those texts and messages like little digital life preservers. Until they start feeling like maybe they're being a pest and stop. And then it’s metaphorical crickets. “Hey, where have you been? Are you okay? I’ve been thinking about you,” seem to be lost phrases. Because we’re just too damn busy and distracted to notice or care that someone’s gone missing.

Does anyone read anymore? Is anyone reading this post? I know that I've written a very thorough introduction on my profile, stating clearly what I seek and hope for. But I don't think too many people actually read any of it; they don't look past the pictures. I've said "NO DICK PICS, please" until I'm blue in the face. Still get them. The other day I was on IM and one guy messaged me about seven times. "I can see you reading my messages," he wrote. I did. And I didn't answer them. Because I didn't want to engage with his dick in my face. Read, y'all. We're all looking to connect. Pay a little more attention and your chances will increase exponentially. We may be on a kink site, but we're still people, not just bodies.

Of course, there is one sure-fire way to get noticed, to be appreciated, to have people say kind things about you.

You can die.

But that kinda sucks. Because you’re, well, dead. And you’re not around to hear the kind things. You don’t get to realize that you mattered after all.

And now I'm going to hit Send. And wait to get the comments that read: "You just need to be fucked/spanked/whatever." (sigh)
17 Comments

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