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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Of a new blog…


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…


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.

Marathon of Stars

You’ll tell yourself
I was the one
but away is the
only direction
you know
how to run.

I was too
naïve to realize I
should be waiting
for the other
so I never noticed
you were crouching in a
sprinter’s stance, your feet
already outfitted.

When you slipped out the door on
padded soles, did you
while I was lying in
the bed you never woke me
to unmake?


Your path was clearly
lit from the beginning; it was
in the dark.

Not everyone “falls” in love

Mrs Fever:

Her tags say it all. Romantic truth: a different perspective {on} vulnerability {and} feminine power.

Her words are absolutely accurate.

Originally posted on D i a r y I n c a r n a t e:

Talking with MrsFever, made me think of women who love wholeheartedly and fiercely like this. I believe her to be one of them.

She “falls” in love like an Apache helicopter “falls” down the side of a mountain.

After a decision to love, she wastes no time on second thoughts.

No surface to air missile can claim her as a target.

She will close in before launch every time, if she so chooses.

Her rush and speed will take your breath away

before you can utter a thought.

She’s scary to those who don’t understand themselves.

To those that do, she’s exciting and vigorous.

Those that can withstand her G forces are lucky.

They will be taken to heights that only a woman like her can reach

and that man, that man who dares to believe in and deeply desire her

will be gilded with adoration, relentless devotion and a…

View original 47 more words


The late-summer mid-afternoon sun streaks through my window and caresses my skin until I stir drowsily awake, the warm rays exacerbating the throbbing pulse between my legs, provoking me to reluctant vivication.  I am not awake but no longer asleep; tranced consciousness is the only state I know in this moment, and – abandoning all pretense of thought – I allow my atavistic dazed need to guide my actions.

In one heartbeat I peel my shorts down over my hips, and in the next I plunge my fingers – two, then three… stretching, pressing, scissoring – into my soft, slick, velvet depths.  I do not bother to count the seconds; time is measured in the barest of breaths, and then I am shivering, shaking, convulsing with pleasure as my sweet wet walls contract and clamp around the penetrating digits.

When the last troy of gratification has been wrung from my hot slick pussy, I examine my fingers with a sleepy smile, naughtily delighted by my sensual afternoon of self-indulgence.  Honeyed cream coats each one to the third knuckle.

Sated for the moment, I bring the padded tips to my lips as I start to drift, and impishly I wonder…

Would you like to know how I taste?

I Am Not A Wallflower (and other things my search terms say about me)

For those of you who are unfamiliar with how WordPress stats work:  There is this handy-dandy little feature called “Search Engine Terms” that gives blog authors all kinds of insight into the minds of their readers.  (Or something.)  When it comes to this blog…  Sometimes those terms are humorous, often they are centered around a topic that I have no intention of ever writing about again, and for the most part the information they provide about y’all is . . . well, to be polite about it, the information they provide is completely useless.  So typically I ignore them.

Except, this week, I got a *fantastic* search term:  What is Jakob Dylan’s rising sign?

Isn't he schmexy?

Isn’t he schmexy?

And I said to myself, “Holy shit!  I know the answer to that one!”


(Errr…  Sort of.)

Bobby D’s baby boy was born December 9, 1969.  Which makes him a Sagittarius who was born in the year of the Rooster.  So that means he’s a cocky centaur who can sling arrows.  (He doesn’t, though.  He’s quite nice, as a matter of fact.)  Also, he’s the youngest son of a cultural icon (which, apparently, didn’t suck too much ~ he usually avoids the subject, but he actually talked about his dad once, here) who happens to be a damn fine (and I mean that in more ways than one – helllllooo, blue eyes!) songwriter.  And stuff.

So what, then, you are wondering, is his rising sign, Feve?

That probably depends on what time he wakes up.  Heh.

Okay, okay…  Let me do some math.

Sagittarius + Rooster + Bob’s boy x blue eyes…  Carry the 2, divide by one headlight

Jakob, the Autist

Jakob, the Autist

He’s a Wallflower, of course!

I, however, am not.  (I’m more like a ceiling weed.)

But I’m totally geeked that people are finding their way to my blog by searching for Jakob Dylan.  His people are going to looooove that!  Sort of like Morgan Freeman’s people are absolutely *thrilled* to be associated with a non-monogamous northwest chicky who digs on fisting.  Make your hand into a snake…  (You’ll ‘get’ this if you read seattlepolychick’s blog.)  Heh.

Anywhoo . . .

Jakob Dylan:  Wallflower.

And what else, you are wondering, did you learn from your blogtastic search terms?

Um.  Not much?

But there were a few that caught my eye.

Other search terms:

temperatures rising blog:  You’ve arrived.  Welcome!
migraine + temperature:  If you’ve got both, I’m very sorry to hear that.
jakob dylan:  Indeed.  GRIN.  (His people are going to be SO EXCITED!)
intellectual intercourse meaning:  Mind.  Fuck.
“I am currently without country”:  That’s a line from the movie French Kiss.
spanking temperature:  Uhm.  Warm?
temperature spank:  See above.  Add 17 degrees.
blog assgasm experience:  Yes, what about it?
tease and denial personal ads:  Uhhh…  No.


What brought you here, hmmm?

Bleeding Out

I sliced myself,
broken glass
on wet fingertip,
and as the red
curled around the sink
I wondered,
almost aloud,
how on earth you fit
inside my veins.

- Tyler Knott Gregson -


. . . a bruise of longing; a pulse of unfinished business . . .

- Sara Zarr -




Take a long hard look at my face
Take away the things I can’t replace
Take my heart, go on take it away
I’ve got nothing to say

Take away this sense of regret
Take the things I need to forget
Take the mistakes I haven’t made yet
They’re all I have left

I don’t want to be the one who lets you down
All I did was run myself around
I wish I could have seen through your eyes
Maybe then I would have realized
I’m the only one who’s bleeding
For the things I never needed
Things I never needed

Take a good long look at yourself
Take the weight off anyone else
And take the hardest blow that was dealt
It’s all on your shoulders

I don’t want to be the one who lets you down
All I did was run myself around
I wish could have seen through your eyes
Maybe then I would have realized
I’m the only one who’s bleeding
For the things I never needed
Things I never needed

I don’t want to be the one who lets you down
All I did was run myself around
I wish I could have seen through your eyes
Maybe then I would have realized
I’m the only one who’s bleeding
For the things I never needed
Things I never needed

~ written by Grace Potter, performed with Daryl Hall on Live From Daryl’s House ~