Finding the right man or the right bra

Filed under:Uncategorized — posted by the Yearning Heart on May 16, 2006 @ 4:28 pm

is pretty much the same, almost-hopeless, exercise:

  • You look for one that supports but doesn’t cut into you.
  • It should look good by itself when nothing is over it, and it should look good in clothes.
  • It shouldn’t reveal too much and it should stay on you right.
  • Try not to let your mom pick one out for you.
  • Some last longer than others.
  • And when it’s completely worn out and there are big gaping holes near the cups, it’s time to let it go; don’t let your kids play with your old ones, no matter how much fun they think it is or how cute they look playing with one.

The Yearning Heart is so hard to buy things for

Filed under:Uncategorized — posted by the Yearning Heart on @ 12:34 pm

Anyone who can, visit my wish list and tell me what I want for my birthday, which will be this Sunday on May 21st. I have no idea what I want. Well, ya I do, but I mean, something from a store.

And they still haven’t found what they’re looking for

Filed under:Uncategorized — posted by the Yearning Heart on May 15, 2006 @ 6:50 pm

This week’s Search Engine Referrals Fun:

  • ass fucking

    ([yawn] – that one has jumped the shark, I would think – oh but they’re coming from a domain in Greece… ‘nuff said.)
  • what is avowe

    (from Turkey, and I’m impressed that someone finally found my Talk Like a Pirate Day post after almost nine months)
  • girl masturbating mirror

    (hmm … interesting idea)


    and the usual suspects:

  • pussy (5 different visitors)
  • nipples (3)
  • naughty girl (7)


    but my personal favorite has got to be:

  • northwestern women’s soccer underwear and blindfold

Where I’m Coming From

Filed under:Uncategorized — posted by the Yearning Heart on @ 3:24 pm

Superior Mother Jumps the Gun

Filed under:Uncategorized — posted by the Yearning Heart on @ 5:09 am
I’m trying – so hard – not to get ahead of myself here. My mom doesn’t help much.
I called my mom for Mother’s Day and, after chit-chatting about gossip and news and recent local tragedies back in my hometown, I told her about my Mother’s Day card.

Mom: Stepmother? [Long pause] Gosh, that sounds like it’s really getting serious.

Yearning Heart: It was serious already, Mom.

Mom: Yes, I know, but I mean! [Another long pause] What are you going to do?

Yearning Heart: I don’t know! I think the ball is in his court, don’t you?

Mom: That ball has been in his court for a while, dear. You better sit and think and ask yourself whether or not he’s really going to want to marry you any time soon, if he does at all.

Yearning Heart: Well, you know, it hasn’t quite been a year, Mom. I don’t have any right to start demanding anything.

Mom: What do you want, dear?

[Long pause]

Mom: I remember how when you were little and your friends used to have pretend weddings when you were, oh, I guess about 9 or 10 years old – do you remember that? You’d always be the minister; you’d never want to be the bride.

Yearning Heart: Yes, [laughs] and I remember playing Barbies and whenever I would stage a wedding, Barbie would walk out on Ken before the ceremony and go off to be a successful single woman; I think a doctor or something.

Mom: Yes, she would end up going to Colorado Springs to shack up with that cowboy doll you had.

Yearning Heart: Yes! [laughs. Another pause.]

Mom: Do you remember watching Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman?

Yearning Heart: Ya, I do. I loved that show.

Mom: Do you remember how Dr. Quinn fell for that rancher recluse way up in the mountains?

Yearning Heart: Yes, Sully, he was cute. I liked him, in my little teenage way.

Mom: And she adopted those three kids?

Yearning Heart: Yes, I remember…

Mom: And they got married, right? and she had a baby?

Yearning Heart: [quickly] Mom, I see where this is going.

Mom: Well, I was only thinking of you, sweetie.

Yearning Heart: I’m not Jane Seymour, Mom, much less Dr. Michaela.

Mom: I know, angel, it’s just kind of odd. Eerie, really, the parallels…

Yearning Heart: It’s a totally different situation.

Mom: Are you two going to have kids?

Yearning Heart: MOM!

Mom: I’ll shut up now.

My first card

Filed under:Uncategorized — posted by the Yearning Heart on May 14, 2006 @ 4:49 am



Click to view larger image
I got this card today. I cried. The boys and Monsieur handed it to me at breakfast. I opened it and it was so beautiful, but the front said “To a Special Stepmother”.
“They didn’t have any ‘Happy Mother’s Day to Aunt Peppermint’ cards,” explained Bigglest Boy.
“Oh, that’s all right, sweetheart,” I assured him. “I think I like this one better anyway.”
“We all signed it,” said Middlest Boy.
“And me!” said Littlest Boy.
“And me,” said Monsieur.
“I can see that! Thank you,” was all I could say.

“Thank you for that card, Monsieur,” I said later as we were cleaning up after breakfast. He was washing dishes and I was clearing the table.
“I wanted it to be more,” he said. “Something a little more substantial.”
“Oh, I think that is pretty substantial,” I said. “No one has ever called me ‘stepmother’ before.”
“Did we presume too much?” he asked, turning to me.
I put my arms around him. “Not a bit. Although to be fair, you should explain to the boys what a stepmother is.”
“Indeed I have,” he said, “and the two oldest boys seem to think that describes your position in the boys’ life.”
“Of course, we would have to do one or two things before it’s entirely accurate,” I said, and kissed his nose.
“Well, you know how impatient boys can be,” he smiled.
“Stepmothers, too.” I went back to cleaning the kitchen. When I turned around again, he was looking at me. I winked at him, though I was trembling inside.
He winked back, and blushed.

Continued, by request

Filed under:Uncategorized — posted by the Yearning Heart on May 13, 2006 @ 4:28 am
(Continued from here.)
He came downstairs at 10:00, took my hand and led me to bed.
Closing the door behind us, I turned to him and said, “I’m really sorry about being such a–”
“Now, we have already apologized and forgiven each other,” he interrupted.
“Okay,” I nodded.
He kissed me and I responded very passionately, hoping that he wouldn’t change his mind. My hands were on his chest, then down to his waist where I undid his pants. He laughed slightly and said, “You really do need this, don’t you?”
“I told you I need it every day, Monsieur. I wouldn’t say that if it weren’t true.” My arms went around him and we stood there for a few moments, intertwined, my body moving against his. I pull my pajama top up and put his hands on my breasts then arched my back hungrily. His hand went over my breasts and he let his fingers tease my nipples, toying with them with an almost distracted leisure. I closed my eyes then put my hands up his shirt and around to his back, tracing his spine with my fingertips up to his shoulders. His muscles were so tight but as I kneaded them I felt him relax. I slid his shirt off and kissed him, then pulled back to look at his chest.
“Golly, you’re so yummy,” I said, then realized I sounded so trite and silly. I didn’t want to say anything stupid again so I lowered his underwear to the floor, helping him step out of them, and ran my fingers over his cock, gently touching it to even more hardness; I cupped his balls in my hand. He knelt and slid my underwear off. He cupped my vulva in his hand, spreading my pussy gently open with a finger then teased it slightly; I was so aroused I could feel everything swell and start to flow. I wanted to give him pleasure, too, so I pulled him to his feet, pushed him back on the bed and took his cock in my hand.
I love how hot it feels; how it throbs and moves around in its arousal, how the flange around its head starts to swell and expand like a ripening mushroom.
I crawled up on top of him, rubbing my small breasts against him and kissed him. I kissed my way down his body, teasing him, running my tongue in a line down that delicious trail from his navel to his pubes. I looked up at him and his eyes were closed.
“Is this okay?” I asked him quietly.
“Oui,” he replied hoarsely. His hands went to my face and cupped it, pulling me to his lips. He kissed me again and then tried to pull me on top of him, but I had other plans.
embrace


“He pumped his cock, driving it into my mouth and out again while I let it try to penetrate its way into my throat.”

I pulled away, got between his legs and lifted them, I ran my tongue over his cock and got it good and wet, then I opened very wide and took the head into my mouth. He gasped. I licked it then sucked it, starting gently and then moving faster, bobbing my head as I sucked, toying with his balls with one hand as I touched my pussy with the other. I got my finger good and wet inside me, then I fed it to him, giving him a taste of myself as I let him suck it. He turned me sideways so he could slide his fingers inside me, opening me up, moving his fingers in a circular motion, making me frantic as I sucked his cock. My mouth opened as wide as it could and he pumped his cock, driving it into my mouth and out again while I let it try to penetrate its way into my throat. I can’t say I took it all, but what I did take got it as good as I could give it.
He pulled me off of his cock and I pouted but he turned me around to lay on my back, and he pressed his face deep into me, splitting me with his tongue and burying his nose into my ass. His tongue moved surely and directly, licking and sucking me then pulling it out to replace it with two fingers. “Oh, fuck yes,” I moaned, then I came as his fingers went from a gentle circular motion to a strong, steady pumping, fucking me with his fingers as his tongue went up to my clitoris. His mouth clamped onto it, and the slow suction drew my climax out, my back arched, my head went back and I saw tiny lights explode in front of my eyes again and again. I cried out and held his head against me as each orgasm rippled through me. I think I lost consciousness for a few seconds.
I don’t remember being turned over, but I remember being on my knees and him rubbing his thick cock head against my pussy, I moaned and pushed back against it. After my orgasms I was tight, swollen shut, but I pushed back against him gamely and soon was rewarded by his thick shaft pushing its way past my engorged labia. I reached between us to feel him. I like the way it feels, all stretched when he’s inside me; I like the way my labia seem like a rubber band almost at its breaking point. I rubbed myself wantonly as he let himself go, biting my neck, whispering in my ear in French and calling me his angel, his sweet, his dear woman.
I came again and was a bit noisy; he pushed my face into a pillow and told me to bite down. I obeyed; his rhythm getting faster as I raised my ass to meet him. I stopped biting the pillow long enough to beg for him to come and fill me, to take me, telling him my pussy was his to fuck, then I felt it hit me again and I went back to chewing on the pillow case.
He pulled his cock halfway out and I felt so hungry for it; I moved back and forth against it, but he just held it there, perfectly still. It was so agonizing for him not to move. I moved against him, calling him a selfish man.
“Selfish, am I?’ he laughed. “You naughty girl, I will give you a selfish man.”
He pulled his cock out as I begged for him. He turned me over, picked me up and carried me over to the wall. He pulled my legs around his waist and then began to fuck me hard, pinning me against the wall with his body as his hips pounded me over and over again. I looked over at the mirror on the dresser and I could dimly see his cock disappearing into me, just before the sparklies went off again in front of my eyes.
Tears were running down my face as I confessed what a naughty girl I am, how I had been wanting him so badly, staying up late at night masturbating, visiting Lady Ann’s Brothel online and taking up man after man, lusting not so much for anyone else but for the attention and for the feeling that I still was desired. I confessed a dozen things, but he still was silent, his eyes were sometimes closed and sometimes burning into mine; and he still fucked me selfishly, deliciously, and thoroughly.
Finally he held me tightly to the wall, his head held up and I could see the veins in his neck as he gasped, held still, then moaned. I felt him expand more inside me and then I felt it running down me, down the crack of my ass and drip to the floor. Still he held me to the wall and I saw a tear slide down his cheek. I kissed it away and told him I’d always be here, his forever and always, as long as he would have me.

HNT needs more focus in its life

Filed under:Uncategorized — posted by the Yearning Heart on May 11, 2006 @ 10:30 am
Enjoy.

Enjoy.
At 5/11/2006 05:11:37 PM,
feetman78 said…

Looks like you have pretty feet…how can I see more? Can I have some for my blog?

Do I do requests? Well, sure! why not?

Some requests. Don‘t expect too much. Happy Half-Nekkid Thursday.

In re: acting

Filed under:Uncategorized — posted by the Yearning Heart on May 10, 2006 @ 8:22 am
I am getting some of the hardest questions lately in my inbox and comments. Among them:

>>Are you still going to be an actress?
>>
>>–
>>Posted by Obesio to The Heart Approaches What It Yearns at 5/10/2006 12:05:48 PM

Short answer: not today.
Long answer: Recently I spoke to several of my drama teachers and coaches and asked them if I had a chance on the stage, since I never seemed to get the kinds of parts that I wanted to get back in college. They all had varying degrees of the same answer: “You have heart and you want it badly but you are not really ever going to be a good actor. With work you can be a better actor, but that spark of something that most really, truly good actors have is not within you.”
Now, being faculty, they said that in a much kinder, gentler way, such as:
  • “There are things that you can do with your acting that do not involve acting in the theater, such as teaching drama, PR, public speaking blah blah blah…”
  • “You might try to hone your skills by pursuing other venues and you may end up finding something worthwhile and rewarding blah blah blah…”
  • “You have a wonderful personality and a great warmth that could turn into something big for you, although it may be nothing but disappointment for a long time yet blah blah blah…”
You know what? I think I am happy right where I am for now. There has lately been a lot of interest in the local HomeSchool network for doing a theatre program, especially since your correspondent is now a part of that HomeSchool network. They are thinking, “wow – we got a real actor, with experience in directing/stagecraft/tech and literature, maybe we could herd some of these hammy kids into a production of Where the Wild Things Are or something.”
Although I think it would be more fun to get the 9- to 14-year-old boys to do Glengarry Glen Ross, just to channel the young hormonal need to say the word ‘motherfucker’ every eleven seconds into something lofty and fine.

National Teacher’s Day/the Yearning Heart is Likely to Burst

Filed under:Uncategorized — posted by the Yearning Heart on May 9, 2006 @ 10:09 am

Today is National Teachers Day – the hand made card I got from two of my students was sweet but that is not nearly as sweet as last night, the first time Littlest Boy told me that he loved me:

“Night night. I love you [Littlest Boy].”
“I yuv you too, Peppymitt.”*

*Trans.: “I love you too, Peppermint.”

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image: detail of installation by Bronwyn Lace