Renee Lee's Blog, page 2

Maybe I Should Hang One in My Dining Room.

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I love random ass historical facts, especially when they’re about penises…

http://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/romans-used-to-ward-off-sickness-with-flying-penis-amulets

Curiosity Killed the Cat

Is this for real?! If so, why?! How?! WHY???

http://www.longarticles.com/tulsa-ok-woman-hospital-fidget-spinner-became-stuck-vagina/

So, basically porn has pretty much always been a thing…

http://www.timesofisrael.com/4000-year-old-erotica-depicts-a-strikingly-racy-ancient-sexuality/

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So….Ghost Fucking….

I have those “weird-in-a-fun-way” friends. A couple of them were joking back and forth yesterday, and one of them said, ” What if, every time you yawn, a ghost puts his dick in your mouth?” That reminded me of a story…

Once upon a time, I was living with this married couple. Yeah,it was like that, although I was mostly only fooling around with her. But that’s another story altogether. They’d moved to Indiana a few months before me, and drawn by the appeal of there being anywhere but here, I followed along.

My girl had a rich uncle who rented them a really cool old two bedroom,two-story, and I had my own large room connected to theirs. It was just a mattress on the floor and a dresser, but it was fine. I mostly slept with them anyway,so,whatever.

The house was nice, but the upper floor and stairs creaked like a motherfucker. You literally could not take a step on those stairs without it reverberating through the whole house, which was pretty annoying when you were trying to sleep while everyone else was up and about. And if you heard the stairs creaking like that when you were the only person in the house, well, old houses creak. And if you heard the disembodied voice of a man whispering in your ear in the middle of the night, it was probably just the neighbors. Or the wind.

I kept getting woken up when I slept in their room by a voice. Specifically, a man’s voice, laughing and talking really loudly. They had this wrap around porch balcony deal off their bedroom, and they kept the doors open so the night air could get in, and we all just figured that someone outside was being noisy, and I’m a light sleeper. So I mostly just started going back to my mattress on the floor at night in hopes of getting some actual sleep, which I did. For a while.

One night, the three of us were downstairs playing video games. It was pretty late. Their toddler had been asleep for hours, and we were all getting pretty tired, but my girl’s husband and I were right at the end of Super Mario Bros., so we stayed up, and she went to bed. We finished our game maybe twenty minutes later, and I went on up to bed while he stayed downstairs to play another game. 

*Creak,creak,creak!* up the stairs I went, and straight to my room, where I pretty much face-planted into the mattress, exhausted.

There was no way to sleep through those fucking creaking stairs, and the baby didn’t. As soon as I closed my eyes and started drifting off, she started screaming her head off. Generally, I tried to be a good little helper with the baby. I changed diapers, and fed her and since my room was closer, if she woke up, I’d go and see about her, but that night, I just could NOT make myself get up. I lay there,listening to her crying for like a whole minute, just trying to gather up the energy to crawl off my mattress. No dice.

A few seconds later, my girl came stomping through the door that connected her room to mine, and flitted by my bed in a huff. I watched her until she left my line of vision, but I didn’t have the energy to move or say anything. So I lay there and waited for her to come back by and bitch at me for not getting up. I could hear her in the baby’s room, soothing her back to sleep, and then a few minutes later, she walked back through my room.

She stopped a few feet from the foot of my bed, and I was on my side, pretending to be asleep, having little interest in starting a midnight argument over what my duties were and weren’t as the live-in side piece. She stood there for a couple of minutes, and I figured she was debating over whether or not to wake me up and yell at me, so I said nothing, and waited quietly for her to go away like the thunderstorm she was. I was hardly surprised when she called me at work the next day to tell me we “had to talk”, which of course meant that the next time she saw me, she was going to bitch for twenty minutes, IF I was lucky and kept quiet during her tirade.

The thing that I loved and hated about her was that she ALWAYS spoke her mind. Always. So when I went to the diner where she waited tables after work to get free food along with my ass-chewing,I was pleasantly surprised and mildly befuddled when I asked her what she wanted to talk about, and she just brushed it off, saying it was no big deal. Nothing was EVER “no big deal” to her, but I wasn’t about to question the gods of fortune when they gave me the opportunity of a free cheeseburger WITHOUT the ass chewing. In so many ways, I really am just a typical dude, except that I have a vagina and pretty spectacular pair of tits.

Weeks went by, and I’d all but forgotten those events, until the day we decided to take a two hour road trip to Louisville. She was driving with me sitting beside her, and hubs and baby in the back, and I was complaining about hearing weird noises and talking again. My girl went quiet for a second, and then she said, ” Yeah, I used to be able to make excuses for all that weird shit, but after the other week, I can barely sleep at night.”

Her husband, who was generally a pretty laid back and quiet guy, scolded, ” SHUT UP about that! I TOLD you not to say anything!” Normally,if either of us ” silly women” even hinted that we thought the weird noises in our house were of supernatural origin,he would have a field day, mocking us and teasing us about being big scaredy-cat girls. The fact that he was actually angry this time was pretty telling.

They argued back and forth for a few minutes, with her claiming that I deserved to know, and him asking what good it would do for me to hear it, until I finally forced her to just fucking tell me already.If old age and dementia claim all of my mind, this conversation will be one of the last things to go:

Her: You know that night we were playing Mario, and I went to be first, and then the baby started crying?

Me: Yes, and you got mad at me because I didn’t get up and go get the baby right away.

Her: I wasn’t mad that you didn’t get up to get the baby; I was mad because I thought you and (husband) were in your bed fooling around, and not only were you both cheating on me with me right there awake and watching, but you didn’t even stop to check on the baby.

Me: Yeah,no. That didn’t happen.

Her: (exasperated) I know that NOW. That’s just what I thought before I went into your room and actually saw the guy in bed with you. THEN I thought you were cheating on me with some random dude you’d snuck into the house.

Me: (Internally pissing my pants) No one will ever sneak up those stairs.

Her: Yeah, I know. I was awake when you came up, and I watched you and some tall, skinny guy walk into your room and lay down in the bed, and I thought it was you and (husband). Then when I got a good look at him, I realized he didn’t look anything like (husband). He had black hair, and dark eyes, and he stared at me like he hated me. Scared the hell out of me, so I left to go see about the baby, and when I came back, he was gone, and I knew he couldn’t have gotten past me on those rickety stairs without me hearing him. I looked all over the top floor after I left your room, and he’d just…disappeared.

I never saw the guy, but the voice that had been waking me up for months only got louder, and I’ll never know if it was just my paranoid imagination that made it seem like the voice had gotten closer, until I could occasionally feel the huff of warm breath in my ear.I moved out shortly thereafter, much to their profound unhappiness. I’d been ready to end things with them for a couple of months, and having the boogey man for a bunk mate was just another reason to go.

I wouldn’t say that I was traumatized by all that weird shit. I mean, it was scary at the time, but not exactly “Amityville Horror” level by any stretch. Clearly, if that ghost/demon/spirit was trying to seduce me, he did NOT bring his A game. After a few months, I pretty much just relegated it into the category of an interesting story that I occasionally like to tell to freak people out.

But my weird friends’ conversation reminded me of it, and so then I did five whole seconds of internet searching, where I picked the most reliable and interesting news source I could find on the subject. That’s right, Buzzfeed. It’s actually really funny and informative…

https://www.buzzfeed.com/katieheaney/we-tried-to-have-sex-with-ghosts-and-heres-what-happened?utm_term=.umpYJddgG#.kfyXzYY7L

I’d like to know more, and maybe I’ll do a follow up one of these days, but it’s 5pm, and I’m thinking Arby’s right about now. I would, however, LOVE to hear your ghost stories. I find that shit fascinating.

Some people love trees. Other people REALLY love trees.

I’m trying to get out of the habit of blogging more than once a day, especially when I’m SUPPOSED to be writing gay porn for some anthology thingie that I’m trying to get into. But goldurnit, some facts are just too interesting not to share, especially when there are hilarious photos to go along with it….

[image error]Gonna break me off a piece of that…

I learned something today: some people get off on trees. It’s called dendrophilia, and well, I think that’s fucking fascinating.

Now don’t get me wrong; I’m NOT making fun. Anything done by one consenting adult and their inanimate object of choice is fine by me. If you’re not hurting anyone and/or getting arrested for public indecency and/or trespassing, rock on. I doubt very much that the trees care one way or the other.

Wikipedia doesn’t have much to say on the subject…

Dendrophilia (or less often arborphilia or dendrophily) literally means “love of trees“. The term may sometimes refer to a paraphilia in which people are sexually attracted to or sexually aroused by trees. This may involve sexual contact or veneration as phallic symbols or both.[1]

 

And when Wikipedia draws a blank, well, you’re pretty much screwed, information wise. I did find some boring ass religious treatise that referred to the worship of various pagan symbols as phallic symbols, and how that only proves that all y’all pagans are going straight to HADES for being fucking perverts. *YAWN* Ain’t nobody tryna hear all that. I could probably find more if I was willing to do more than ten minutes of research, but sadly, I have a short attention span. I’d LOVE to hear from ACTUAL dendrophiles and get the scoop, but until then, I guess I’ll just have to giggle over the silly pics I found instead…

 

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Confession: I’m not really into the bondage thing.

It’s become kind of a standard in the erotica world these days. A dominant alpha male teaching some young thing the pleasures of submission, only to find true love. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still like reading it. I incorporate a tiny bit of it into my sex scenes occasionally, so I can totally see the appeal on a completely visceral level. Bondage porn is actually some of my favorite kind. Just, as a lifestyle choice, it’s not really something I can ever see myself doing.

For one thing, I’m neither submissive or dominant. I neither want to be tied up, or do the tying. In a world of alphas and betas, I’m an omega who totally gets off on the vanilla shit as easily as the hardcore stuff. It’s probably just laziness on my part, or the fact that it’s just crazy easy for me to have multiple orgasms from the missionary position alone, which requires little to no effort on my part.

All that being said, I had a ridiculously good time scanning the interwebs for bondage photos. I got lost in a world of Velma from Scooby Doo being tied up and sullied in various interesting ways. Maybe I just have a Velma fetish. A thick girl, with glasses and a smart mouth? Yes, please!

 

The Real Reason People Hate Erotica

No silly post  today,  just me, in bed at 7am,  thinking about all the shit I write that few will ever read. I’m actually fine with that, believe it or not. When I was younger,  I harbored the delusion that ONE day, I would find my place and my people,  who would validate my unique weirdness , and we’d all frolic together, like that little bee girl in the Blind Melon video.  And, I have, sort of, but the older I get, the more I realize that it’s not even about that.

Even the people who get you won’t get everything. The true test of friendship is when you go off the map, and the ones who love you try to follow,even though the trail you’re leading them down seems dubious, at best. The true test of yourself is in how far you’re willing to keep going down that trail as the ones who are willing to follow drop down to the single digits.

But I digress .

Why DO so many people hate erotica? I think partly, it’s because a lot of the writing is utter crap.  The plot, if there is one at all, pretty much revolves around boring,  non-dimensional characters trying to find love and/or mind blowing orgasms in spite of some contrived obstacles and a villain who really could have been efficiently dealt with from the beginning,  if only the heroes of the story had shown any amount of foresight whatsoever.  But then, all of that seems to be true of most of the things we consider entertainment. It goes deeper.

LOT’S of people are really uncomfortable about sex. Sex isn’t the be all and end all, necessarily, but God damn. It baffles me that so many adults, who are presumably having sex and liking it, just cannot bring themselves to talk about it, let alone read about it.

Here’s why that bothers me- a lot of my friends have reached the stage in life where they’ve been with their significant others for a while, and I’m hearing  countless complaints about their lack of connection with their partners.  The sex is mediocre, if there IS still sex at all.  Many of them are having affairs,  or have had in the past, and it’s not because they stopped loving their partners. In fact,  it’s usually the opposite; they feel compelled to seek the fulfillment that they’re not receiving at home, due to, I think,  two main things-lack of communication and lack of good sex, and those two things are irrevocably intertwined.

And this is the part where someone cries foul, because my words hit them below the belt,  and they feel compelled to cry, “sex  isn’t everything!!!” No, it isn’t,  but it’s more important than most people give it credit for. If it wasn’t the whole gay marriage issue wouldn’t even be a thing .

The truth is, no one really gives a damn whether two men or women,  or however they identify, want to cohabitate and build a life together,  but the very IDEA that one guy might stick his dick in another guy’s ass, and that they both may actually LIKE it, is really just more than some people can handle. And heaven forbid that some woman might leave her husband because the lesbian next door eats pussy when he won’t. That’s just a recipe for total anarchy. Because of this, most major religions revolve around telling us when, where, and who we can fuck.

I don’t blame religion, or God, though. Religion just gives some people refuge from their own accountability,  even though,  again,  that’s not even what it’s about, and the most cowardly of those try to force their fear-based ideologies on others.  I truly believe that if there is a God, he’s really not that concerned over your curiosity about how having a dick in your ass might feel. There are, after all, far more pressing things to deal with.

So, don’t go blaming God for the shit you don’t want to deal with.  A truly loving parent understands that the only way for his children to mature into proper adults is to make their own way through trial and error. Your friends and family might not get it, but they have their own rows to hoe.  Don’t let their shit become your shit.

And ya know,  sexual awkenings aren’t for everyone.  Some people just truly aren’t interested in sex one way or the other, and that’s okay too. Just,  if you feel like there’s more to this sex thing than you know, explore it. When your inner prude throws up a big wall of NOPE!, don’t be afraid to climb that rickety bitch and see what’s on the other side. As long as everyone is a consenting adult, then there truly can be no wrong there.