Low-carb foreplay

Did I ever mention that I lost nearly 50 pounds three, maybe four years ago? Yup. While I was still fairly active I'd ice-cream-and-spaghetti'd my way up over a period of maybe ten years without really noticing. It didn't really hit me till I hit the outer-most hole in my belt. This happened to be right around the point when the whole low-carbohydrate diet craze was just beginning, and since I've had sugar crashes on and off all my life, and since the science behind it seemed reasonable (protein and fat take longer to digest so you don't get hungry six minutes after you eat them) I thought I'd give it a whirl. So I bought the Atkins book, read it cover to cover, and followed it scrupulously.

Rule #1 was pretty straightforward: No carbs to speak of. That was tough at first. (No pasta? No bread? No Ice Cream!?!?!)

Rule #2 was surprising: Vegetables, lots of them. "Non-negotiable!" I've never eaten so many vegetables in all my life. (Though they're delicious, of course, with butter, or hollandaise, or olive oil, or vinegarette. Also stunningly easy to prepare.)

Rule #3 was... predictable: Exercise. "Non-negotiable!" Fortunately I enjoy exercise so I did that too.

Rule #4 was vitamins, which I wasn't used to taking (I'm still not) but what the heck? You follow the diet or you don't.

Anyway, I lost all that weight in very short order. I've hovered between 195 and 200 pounds ever since. My resting pulse rate is way down, my blood pressure's way down, even (surprisingly) my cholesterol is way down.

But what I really wanted to talk about was butter.

Yep, butter.

Butter and foreplay.

I saw "Last Tango in Paris" back in college and, like a lot of people, when I think about butter and sex I automatically hear Marlon Brando graveling "get da buttah" to Maria Schneider. (Most likely the movie would still have gotten an X rating without that scene but that definitely sealed it.)

But that's not the only use for butter in sex, you know. So here's a tip:

Average skin temperature at rest is about 86 degrees (30C.)
Butter melts somewhere between 93-95 degrees (34-35C.)
The more aroused you get the warmer your skin gets.

So.

What do you think would happen if we were sitting around the kitchen and, out of the blue, I reached over and slid my finger over the end of the butter dish, peeling up a little curl on my fingertip, and, looking you right in the eye I gently plased it in the little cleft at the base of your throat. And then kissed you? Gently at first. Maybe dropping to one knee next to you so I could put my arm around your waist, so I could stroke your cheek while we took those first soft kisses. Not much would happen, really, except maybe you'd be a little irked at me for dabbing you like that first.

But if I kissed you well? Warmly? Maybe gently stroking your ears and scalp? If you could smell my clean hair and warm body close to yours? If my hand strayed down your back to press against your hips? If my lips strayed along the line of your chin and down the side of your neck? With maybe a little nip or slurp here and there as I neared your collarbone?

You might begin to get a little warm.

And the butter might begin to melt.

And if it began to melt it might begin to slip down over your collarbone.

And, you know, since I'm pretty handy with laundry I could get butter stains out of your blouse if necessary, but *since* I'm handy with laundry I know the best way to handle stains is to avoid them to begin with. And the best way to avoid them would probably be to begin unbuttoning your blouse. We wouldn't want to stain your bra or camisole either so I'd help you off with that too.

And as long as you were naked from the waist up, there's really no reason not to reach for that buttery stream and spread it around a bit. Over your collarbones. Over your nipples. Over and under the curves of your breasts. Of course, if I were still kissing you I'd need to take off my shirt as well. That would only take a moment though, and before you knew it I might begin kissing after the butter trail, leaning you back in the crook of one arm to avoid any drips onto your skirt or pants.

Oh, and we wouldn't want those to get stained either so better have them off as well.

And if your legs were bare, and my lips were roving over your breasts and belly, your throat, and back to your mouth, my other hand might be free to touch them here, or here, or here. And if your legs softened under my touch I might be able to touch you here as well, stroke down to your knees, slip up, and up again to... here.

And if you got into the spirit of things you might dip your own fingers into the butter and see where you could get it to melt on me.

It's ok, you know. It's low-carb.