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If you’re new here, welcome! If you’re returning, welcome back!

Looking for my most recent posts?  Scroll down a bit. 

*This* is a sticky post. (Keep comments about the stickiness of *your* post to yourself, please.) It was the first post I wrote on this blog space and it’s a permanent fixture on my home page for two reasons: (1) It clearly outlines my rules (please read them if you haven’t already), and (2) It helps a very specific group of people find me.

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GENESIS

Of a new blog…

Why?

Because of my Exodus from the Blogland I formerly called home.  (A.F.F. anyone?  Beuller?  Beuller?  Anyone…?  Beuller…?  Feverpitch60 has left the building…)

So.  Genesis because of Exodus.

Perhaps you were thinking along the line of Leviticus?  Deuteronomy?  Numbers?

Think again.  ;-)

There will be no commandments, but there will indeed be RULES.  And while I can’t promise to stay on topic (sex, love, gardening, pet ownership…one thing leads to another, I’m afraid…and all topics eventually lead back to sex ~ it’s a hazard of being a certain age, I think), I can promise that there will be…erm…language…and photos (if I can figure out how to upload them) and occasional glimpses at my mind, body (yes, I’m an exhibitionist), and soul.  Oh!  And my funny bone.  :)

I’d like to say all are welcome.  But really, you should be over 18.  And you will have to adhere to the rules.

Oh dear, you are thinking, with all this talk of rules…  Is she a (gulp) Domme?

Yes!  (Insert evil laugh and whip-cracking noise here.)

Well, actually…

No.  Not really.  I mean…

Let’s save this discussion for another time, shall we?  ;)  The reason for the rules is more along the lines of preventative maintenance.  I learned the…hard way (heh)…on my previous blog that internet anonymity can sometimes bring out the worst in people.

So without further ado…

THE RULES

1.  I am a PERSON.  Not an OBJECT.  Treat me as such.  (Or you will not be welcome here.)

2.  While I’m usually pretty fun-loving and don’t take things too seriously, I am still a REAL PERSON with REAL FEELINGS.  Treat me as such.  (Or you will not be welcome here.)

3.  While I may talk about sex on this blog, that does not give you the right to treat me like a sex worker.  I am a WOMAN.  I am MARRIED to a REAL PERSON with REAL FEELINGS.  Respect us as such.  (Or you will not be welcome here.)

Also, don’t steal stuff. Creative Commons Attribution License applies. Read that, and this, before you borrow from me.

These rules apply to ALL interactions and exchanges, including but not limited to blog comments and other bitland conversations.  Anyone who feels they cannot follow these rules is free to leave at any time.  Deliberate ignorance of these rules will result in banishment from the Land of Fever.

Mrs. Fever has spoken.

So it has been written; so it shall be done.

…to have loved and lost…

mam

Two hearts breaking in perfect harmony.

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THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

Lyrics:

I never meant to get us in this deep
I never meant for this to mean a thing
Oh I wish you were The One
I wish you were the one that got away

I got caught up by the chase
And you got high on every little game
I wish you were The One
I wish you were the one that got away

Oh if I could go back in time
When you only held me in my mind
Just a longing borne without a trace
Oh I wish I’d never ever seen your face
I wish you were The One
I wish you were the one that got away

I miss the way you wanted me
When I was staying just out of your reach
Begging for the slightest touch
Ooooh, you couldn’t get enough
Mmmmmmm

Oh if I could go back in time
When you only held me in my mind
Just a longing borne without a trace
Oh I wish I’d never ever seen your face
I wish you were The One
I wish you were the one that got away

Got away from me…

Got away from me…

‘Fore anybody has to grieve

Oh if I could go back in time
When you only held me in my mind
Just a longing borne without a trace
Oh I wish I’d never ever seen your face

I wish you were the one
I wish you were The One
Oh I wish you were The ONE

I wish you were the one that got away

~ Joy Williams and John Paul White ~

Maybe

Maybe I know you.
Maybe I don’t.
Maybe I’d like to.

Maybe one day.

Maybe you think you know me.
Maybe you don’t.

Maybe there’s more than meets the eye.

Maybe we’ve only scratched the surface.
Maybe there are treasures to be found in the depths.

Maybe it’s worth it. The excavation. The exploration.
The pleasure. The pain.
The great unknown.

Maybe it’s worth it.

Maybe we’re worth it.

Maybe.

I am a sticky mess.

The mercury rising outside my window has only intensified the heat between my thighs, and after three body-shaking orgasms in a row with Lady ‘Lo, I am still.not.satisfied.

My still-trembling fingers find the swollen nub of my hyper-aroused clit, and when I part my slit the scent of my needy cunt hits my nostrils and I can barely breathe.

I press the pad of my middle finger against my wetness and with a groan rising up from deep inside…

I swivel my hips in time with each stroke and dip…

I slide…

Swirl…

.

.

:: Sigh ::

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.

It’s not enough.  Not tonight.

More.  I need…  More.

I can’t do this by myself.

Reluctant as I am to deprive my quivering pussy of the pleasure of my fingers, I bear the momentary ache because I need to use them to text.

9:42pm:  I need you.  Come home.  Give me my glass.  Give me your cock.  FUCK.  ME.

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.

.

.

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9:44pm:  Yes, ma’am.  I’m on my way.

.

.

Yes, ma’am.

Mmmmmm…

.

.

FUCK but now I really am a sticky mess.