Mashed potatoes and riding crops….these are a few of my favorite things

The bedroom, like the kitchen, should be outfitted with the necessary accessories. One does not bake a Bundt cake in a round pan after all. Today, let’s explore two essential items for each room beginning with the kitchen. I find my potato ricer a vital kitchen tool. I cannot tell you the number of times I have whipped up a batch of delicious mashed potatoes all courtesy of my little ricer. For the health conscious, they also make excellent mashed sweet potatoes which for reasons that baffle me are incredibly nutritious in spite of their inherent sweetness. The technique could not be easier either – slice up a few potatoes, boil until they can be pierced with a fork, and mash in the ricer. Add a bit of butter, milk, salt and pepper, give it a stir and you’ve got a bowl full of deliciousness. When wooing a guy who likes home cooking, set a batch of these before him and you are practically guaranteed a handy j – at the minimum.

And now onto the bedroom…..maybe it’s my love of history or thoroughbred horse racing or just the romantic in me, but I go weak in the knees and stiff in the junk for a leather riding crop. The way it feels in my hand, the way it smells, how it become almost like an extension of my arm when I use it. Perhaps I was a Cossack horseman in a former existence galloping my steed across the open steppe of southern Russian, pillaging and accessorizing as I went. The riding crop can be a playful first steep for those bringing a little spice into the bedroom or more intense for those S&M leather daddies who walk among us. The slight stinging sensation – warm and ticklish – can be incredibly stimulating during foreplay or fucking. I utilize the tried and true spanking formula of smack, smack, rub, squeeze when employing my riding crop. For myself, I prefer a rough hard smack like I am Secretariat being ridden down the stretch at the Kentucky Derby. So, as my Cossack ancestors in ages past – mount your steed, hold that riding crop high above your head, and gallop onward – for hell or glory!