tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-111105862024-03-12T20:36:19.724-07:00The Edge of DesireRamblings about sex and kink.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger47125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-39674402231224824112014-04-28T19:23:00.002-07:002023-02-15T15:11:17.941-08:00Bootblacking 101<p>I've recently gotten into bootblacking and I find it really enjoyable! Getting to do the boots while the person is wearing them generally leads to a surprising and pleasurable energy exchange.<br />
<br />
Your basic kit doesn't have to be very fancy:<br />
<br />
* a couple of horsehair daubers (round)<br />
* a couple of horsehair brushes (rectangular)<br />
* toothbrush<br />
* saddle soap or glycerin soap<br />
* leather conditioner (4-Way, Cadillac, Huberd's, Obenauf's)<br />
* cream polish or wax polish<br />
* shine cloth or old cotton t-shirt<br />
* nylons/pantyhose<br />
* spray bottle with water<br />
* low-lint towels (cut-up old t-shirts or t-shirt cloths, sold in packs in the paint dept., are commonly used)<br />
<br />
For polishes, Meltonian, Angelus, Lincoln, Saphir, and Kiwi are popular. Really, main thing is that you want cream or wax polish and should avoid those liquid polishes with the sponge applicator bottles. Also, you'll want one rectangular horsehair brush per color of polish in your kit. You want to avoid using a brush with dark polish on lighter leather.<br />
<br />
Notes on cream vs. wax: </p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Cream polish contains less wax and is meant to nourish, and add color to the leather (if desired). When buffed, it will give a light shine.</li><li>Wax polish comes as a solid puck and is what you want if you're trying for a nice, bright shine on boots and shoes.</li><li>Cream polish sinks into the leather, whereas wax polish sits on top. <br /></li></ul>
<br />
If you start to do research, you'll see that everyone has their own way, so it can get a bit confusing. The first thing is determining whether you have a polishable ('high shine') boot or whether it's oil tan leather. This is probably the hardest thing in bootblacking, because it takes a little experience with feel and the appearance of the leather to determine quickly. I read somewhere that if you put a drop of water on the boot, let it sit for 30 seconds, and wipe it off, if the leather is darker where the water was, you're dealing with oil tan. Some types of boots, like harness boots and cowboy boots, are generally oil tan, but not always.<br />
<br />
Most high shine boots will have a smooth finish and appear glossy, although sometimes, there is too much dirt to tell. However, finished leathers aren't always hard like on high shine boots; with a softer coating, the leather will feel softer and supple. Because the leather is coated, usually with resin, it will feel cool to the touch when under your hand.<br />
<br />
Oil tanned boots generally have a pitted look to them, a bit of a nap when you feel the leather, and are either dull or medium shiny (low luster). This type of leather will warm easily under your hand and is often described as 'buttery soft'.<br />
<br />
I know this is very confusing when you start out, so rest easy in the knowledge that every working bootblack has accidentally polished oil tan boots at least once. The good news is that it's not harmful to the leather and is simply a sort of embarrassing novice fuck-up, so if you do polish oil tans, don't fret! Just apologize, clean the polish off, and condition.<br />
<br />
<b>Step 1</b>, remove laces and set aside. If doing on someone's feet, roll up their pant legs and try to remember how they like their boots laced because you'll have to do them up again at the end.<br />
<br />
<b>For oil tan boots:</b><br />
<br />
Get a dauber wet and mist all over the boot with the spray bottle, as well as the surface of the saddle soap. Rub the brush in the soap, then apply it to the misted surface in small circles. You're going for a nice, satisfying lather... not too much water, but not so little that it's not soaping up. You don't want the saddle soap to dry on the boot, so if you're quick, you can do the whole boot at once, but if the leather is really dry, you'll have to work in sections because the soap will dry super fast. Spritz a clean t-shirt cloth until damp and wipe soap off thoroughly. Get all up in the crevices, the tongue, straps, etc. If a boot is really dirty, I'll repeat this process. Having a small bowl of water is helpful to rinse your brush once it gets dirty, as is a cheap toothbrush to clean the catwalks and other details. When you finish one boot, set it aside to dry a little and start on the other.<br />
<br />
Starting on the first boot, work in your conditioner, gently massage it in if you can. If you like the person, make it a foot and ankle massage through the leather. Pay extra attention to the creases because it'll help maintain flexibility where the leather gets stressed. You don't really want to use tons, necessarily. Sometimes, leather is thirsty and may take a lot of conditioner, but overall, you're aiming to leave no excess on the surface. Huberd's can take a bit to fully soak in, depending on how dry the leather was. I would condition the first boot, set aside to soak in a bit, do the second boot, and then use my grease brush (used only for conditioner) to buff off the excess. You could likely use a lint-free cloth like a t-shirt to buff off the conditioner. Too much conditioner can actually weaken fibers. Also, keep in mind, if you have non-black leather, some conditioning products might darken the leather leather a bit.<br />
<br />
<b>For polishable boots:</b><br />
<br />
Same beginning steps as oil tan boots, but I've been cautioned against using Huberd's before applying polish. Some experienced bootblacks do it, but the idea is that Huberd's is oilier than the other products and polish won't adhere as well. I'm a baby bootblack still, so I haven't much personal experience in this matter, but a very experienced bootblack busted out some science to explain it and I'm convinced. So, basically, you can use anything but Huberd's if you're planning on applying polish. Obenauf's is maybe a bit pricey, but it's natural, soaks in quickly, and can be polished over.<br />
<br />
Once you've cleaned and conditioned the leather (don't forget to buff), apply polish to the boot in an even coat. You can use a dauber for this, a smooth damp cloth, or your bare fingers. Get it in all the cracks, creases, etc., and be careful about getting dark polish on non-black stitching. If you do get polish on light stitching, a cosmetic (pointed) q-tip dipped in rubbing alcohol generally helps a lot. Or you can sort of cheat and get yourself white and yellow China markers, which is what the veteran bootblacks all stock in their kits to brighten up stitching. Depending on the design of the boots and the color of the laces, you may or may not want to polish the tongue, as polish will wear off against the laces. Do this on the first boot, set it aside for the polish to dry a little, repeat on #2.<br />
<br />
Lightly mist your polish brush -- barely damp, not wet -- and starting with the first boot, lightly brush the boot in quick, repetitive strokes over one area, then change angle and do the same vigorous brushing motion while going across the same area (like an X). I find I need to do this longer than I think I do, but I suspect that I might be using more polish than necessary.<br />
<br />
What this does is knock off extra polish, but it also is building up heat via friction to melt the polish a little and make it smooth. Keep the brush barely damp and repeat until you're satisfied. Set the boot aside and do #2.<br />
<br />
With the first boot, take out your buffing cloth. I have a shine cloth with a soft side and a hard side, but some people use t-shirt cloths, which I've heard works just fine as long as it is laid flat with no creases. I buff lightly with the soft side, then I flip the cloth over and buff lightly with the rougher side.<br />
<br />
To get a better shine on high-shine boots, people tend to use nylons. A little pressure is required in this step. If someone is wearing the boots I'm doing, I'll flatten the nylons like a cloth (no creases) and do the classic shoeshine back-and-forth thing on the toes and heels. You can put your hand into a leg of the nylons and it makes it much easier to rub the sides, or if you're trying to polish empty boots. You're aiming for friction and you know it's good and polished when it starts to squeak.<br />
<br />
You can repeat the polish step as many times as you like, or even just do extra on the heel and toe.. additional layers will increase shine to make the toes and heels stand out against the rest of the shine. I personally don't do the nylon step with every pair of boots because I've found that it's best on high shine boots, and can actually reduce shine on other finishes.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-42305714261875058772011-09-19T13:05:00.000-07:002011-09-19T13:45:12.557-07:00Drought19 months.<br />
<br />
It has been 19 months.. 19 long.. dry.. and very sad months. That is almost <i>two years</i>, people. Like a desert, I lie dry and dusty, awaiting even the barest sprinkle of rain. All life and hope shriveling in the absence of clouds, not a single drop to slake my deep thirst.<br />
<br />
Okay, yes, I'm being intentionally dramatic here. However, for someone as sexual as I am, 19 months is painful torture. Don't get me wrong, I am pretty patient and I can go months without. It's far from my preference, but I can manage. It's at about the six month mark where I start to squirm a bit.<br />
<br />
Oh-ho, the six month mark has come and gone.. three times.<br />
<br />
My sex life, much like my romantic life, appears to be the universe's idea of a joke. <i>Here, have this enormous sex drive, but not be able to do anything about it! Haha! </i> Through much trial-and-error, I've discovered that it makes no difference whatsoever if I am proactive or if I am passive. It is 100% dependent on luck and, apparently, on whatever is meant to happen at any given time.<br />
<br />
I'm pretty sure this is the longest I have ever gone without sex and, frankly, it's very much starting to wear on me. To my credit, I have tried to deal and to not take it personally. I have been patient and trying to send out the right energy to attract what I'm looking for. It's just, apparently, not meant to be...<br />
<br />
I'm starting to feel a bit bitter about it, frankly. There's really only so much masturbation a person can do, you know? It's not at all a substitute for what I want, which is the slow and sensual touch of another person. Making love, kissing, savoring another person's body. Fucking. Mouths, tongues, skin, the taste and scent of a woman's nexus. Being penetrated by someone else, feeling them, the weight, the wholeness of both our bodies connecting, on top of me. I want to run my fingers over someone's skin for hours, to lick and bite their neck, to make them squirm, and to hear their breathing and soft moans in my ear.<br />
<br />
On the humorous side, I'm actually a bit anxious about it having been so long because I'm pretty sure whoever gets me next is going to have something akin to a teenage boy on their hands. Like... the barest anything will likely set me off into ridiculous, overblown paroxysms. On one hand, that might be fun, but on the other, it might be kind of embarrassing.<br />
<br />
Anyway.. I'll be the one over here in the corner praying for rain and contemplating doing a rain dance. Wish me luck...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-67859422905919741872011-09-11T23:39:00.000-07:002011-09-11T23:40:06.441-07:00Food for Thought<a href="http://www.edenfantasys.com/sexis/sex/midori-real-risk-kinky-sex-0815111/" target="_blank">BDSM’s Dirty Secret – The Real Risk of Kinky Sex</a><br />
<i>By: Midori </i><br />
<i>Published: August 15, 2011</i><br />
<br />
As kinky folks, most of us have heard of the risks associated with certain activities we like: rope cuts off circulation, bruises invite suspicion and speculation, infected wounds or bites just plain suck and breath play can flat out be deadly... but there's more.<br />
<br />
Kink and Sadomasochism come with a load of risks. The list is long enough to make your eyes glaze over. But, I'm not here to trot out the usual suspects. Yes, they're real and no, you shouldn't ignore them, but there's another set of dangers that often go unmentioned. They are intrinsic to kink and yet so potentially threatening to some that they do everything within their power, subconsciously, to avoid them.<br />
<br />
That danger inherent in SM is….<br />
<br />
(Cue horror movie soundtrack….)<br />
<br />
Intimacy and human connection.<br />
<br />
Yes, intimacy.<br />
<br />
Because, at some level, SM demands participants to be true to their desires and hungers, vulnerabilities and savagery. Fully engaged kink insists on full presence without pretense and willingness to connect the raw humanity to another’s raw humanity. The elegant defenses and social rules of appropriate behavior are built up by civilization and maintained in culture to insulate ourselves from that dangerous primal state. SM, along with some sports, is one of the few remaining semi-sanctioned arenas where the raw emotions and connections are permitted and even celebrated. To engage in this behavior may lead to a flood of emotions, elation and even risk failure to achieve connection, with the added danger of feeling genuine loneliness. It takes guts, skill and personal risk to fly high with another person.<br />
<br />
This is a mighty scary proposition to some people.<br />
<br />
But there’s a solution for people who can’t bear intimacy or potential failure. Highly technical scenes with clear standards of tangible procedural success can minimize the risk of messy emotional authenticity.<br />
<br />
Over the years of I’ve been to more than a few dungeon parties – big and small, public and underground, posh and sleazy. Usually the scenes I see make me hot, but a few would leave me troubled, cold or deeply sad. Were they too shocking or taboo for me? No. Were they technically incompetent? No.<br />
<br />
Instead, they were highly technical, well-executed and fascinating to watch. Multiple floggers fly and spin, wowing the crowd, in a spectacular choreography of Florentine flogging. Single tails and bull whips snap and dance stunningly on the skin delivering subtle strokes and deep cuts. Ropes wrap around limbs suspending flesh in complicated mid-air acrobatic poses. We gather around for these and other skill intensive scenes to ooh and ahh. But eventually I’d walk away, wondering why I was suddenly overcome by sadness. As I step away, people get in line to be the next to bottom, as the top processes yet another through an exquisite set of maneuvers.<br />
<br />
I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not watching two people sharing an experience, but rather two strangers having separate thrills over one activity. The top feels satisfaction in displaying competence in a set of measurable standards (The ropes go on. The person goes up. They come down and they’re still in one piece), while the bottom gets to have a self-contained experience delivered by a competent technician. The human factor of the other person seems irrelevant in either case.<br />
<br />
When I see this, it feels like SM is reduced to an amusement park ride, and people choose if they’re the rider or ride operator. Or maybe it’s the bungee jump. When I’ve gone bungee jumping, I looked for a service provider with qualifications and a good reputation. I certainly didn’t expect, nor want, any raw human connection with the dude strapping me in. I wanted him out of my head and heart. I wanted a thrill and to be able to talk about it to my friends. Maybe that’s what some people are seeking in their SM.<br />
<br />
Recently someone came to talk to me about the suspension he did. Breathless with excitement, he talked to me about the thrill of doing it. Never once did he mention the other person he tied up. There was that sinking feeling in my heart again.<br />
<br />
The more difficult the technique is, the harder it is to establish that human connection. But the more technical the play is, the easier it is to visibly ascertain a level of success and external validation. Emotional and mental states are, by nature, nebulous and not easy to determine success. There can always be doubts if the other person flew as high as you did, or if they flew at all. “Was it good for you?”<br />
<br />
The greater the technical demand, the further at bay you keep the risk of intimacy, vulnerability and disappointments. To experience emotional connection in highly technical scenes is truly challenging. I’ve seen it done and it’s hot, but their biggest expertise went well beyond the complicated ties or whips. It was their willingness to be naked to the soul with the other person. Sadly, the intangible emotional scene success seems rarely celebrated as we’re distracted by flashy and tangible skill standards.<br />
<br />
Firmly establishing a set rules for play where disconnect is the norm in, effect lowers the bar, guarantees and redefines success. Super difficult techniques can protect the players from biggest risk of all in SM – intimacy.<br />
<br />
But if you play hard with nothing more than the most distilled, simple techniques, with teeth bared, sweaty, breathy and entwined with your partner as you expose your darkest desires to them, leaving you exhausted and elated in one another’s arms, congratulations – you are truly a pleasure artist.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-17117600722697766712011-09-08T11:52:00.000-07:002011-09-08T11:54:22.254-07:00'What is it about service?'I borrowed this from a thread on FetLife, where the original poster, a dominant, inquired, <i>"I would really like to hear other people's take on what makes receiving domestic service so fucking hot." </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I liked the following answer from another dominant so much that I wanted to put it here.<br />
<br />
<div class="content"><blockquote>It is, for me, this undeniable feeling of dedication to the one being served. Our distractions are stripped away.<br />
<br />
Ego is absent.<br />
<br />
It is the depth of our discipline to that that is able to remove these distractions. What remains is the sole focus of carrying out a complete and selfless act of dedication to that one's needs, wants<i> -- to its completion</i>. This act may be simple, but its simple gesture is likened to one paying homage.<br />
<br />
Homage is very intimate.<br />
<br />
This act builds the dynamic. It is an opportunity to display, with grace, what has been practiced, whether it be in boot blacking, formal tea, food service, or holding grace through stance and postures.<br />
<br />
Why is this so important? Why the dedication and small rituals when presenting service? Partly it separates us from simple acts one would receive as courtesy (say, from a family restaurant or the grocery kid at the supermarket), partly because in our vanilla lives we don't often get that opportunity to be in a space to fill that empty vessel.<br />
<br />
We are starved and for those moments, the act of service and receiving it restores that balance. We are kings, we are gentlemen and ladies, courtesans, cicisbeos, and chevaliers. whatever part of the spectrum we play in, we are cherished and valued.<br />
<br />
We are fed.<br />
<br />
Handing someone a cup of coffee is just handing over a cup of coffee, but present that with genuine grace, structure, poise and you separate yourself from a whole group of others. This is the difference. This is what makes genuine service, <i>service</i>.<br />
<br />
I am afforded the opportunity to sit back and breathe in, to anticipate the service, to really receive it, as I witness it. I am able to see distinct motion and see that what is expected or shown, has been displayed correctly.<br />
<br />
Receiving a feeling of genuine care from service, displaying it in a flawless manner, having needs be the focus, stripping away one's vulnerabilities and distractions and seeing that person thrive from their act, this is the reward for me.</blockquote><blockquote> -- TheDisciple</blockquote></div><br />
<blockquote></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-31801088668895745792011-09-04T15:26:00.000-07:002011-09-09T14:02:23.642-07:00VulnerabilityMy goal at the start of this year was to work on caring less about what others think and, to that end, I have made great strides. Still a work in progress, to be sure, but I'm pretty pleased with myself. Recently, a new theme has presented itself in my life and will take over my personal growth focus: <b>vulnerability</b>.<br />
<br />
I could write a book on myself and how I defend from displaying even the barest hint of vulnerability. How I find being vulnerable to be unbearable, terrifying, and excruciating, so I avoid it at all costs. The result is that I live in my own personal kind of hell, with everything locked in tight, to be dealt with quietly, alone, in the dark recesses of my own personal fortress.<br />
<br />
I had a dream the other night, about running into JC, which brought up all of those related emotions and which has given me food for thought over the past few days. She and I were together for two and a half years; by far the healthiest relationship I've had to date. Our break up was devastating to me, then I healed, then I saw her again and the wounds were ripped open, then I spent an embarrassingly long amount of time trying to re-heal and trying to stop pining and wanting something that never really existed in the first place.<br />
<br />
I did succeed and I did get over her again. That is why this dream took me by surprise, but it was very interesting. In the dream, we flirted while we caught up, but there was no desire, really, to be with her in a romantic way. There was, however, a real desire to be with her sexually. That, I feel, will never go away entirely.<br />
<br />
JC and I will always have a deep and caring friendship to fall back on. Our split was highly amicable, just both of us admitting that as romantic partners, we weren't a good fit. One of her chief complaints about me is my inability to be emotionally intimate, especially in a verbal fashion. She has a PhD in psychology, so talking about feelings is obviously huge for her.<br />
<br />
I just... as much as I trusted her and loved her.. I could not bare myself like that. I would draw a blank in discussions and have no idea what to say. In some ways, it's very frustrating because the feelings are there, but I can't manage to get them out in words or in ways that most people expect. Not to mention, I have a legitimate personality quirk (alexithymia) that makes it difficult for me to find the words to match what I'm feeling, so that combined with the person sitting there, staring at me, waiting with bated breath for what's to come out of my mouth next... it's terribly nerve-wracking, full of pressure, and not at all conducive to my opening up and sharing the most tender and sensitive parts of myself.<br />
<br />
On the other hand, what made our sex life so hot, was due greatly in part to the fact that the only time I was able to be completely bare, open, and vulnerable with her was in bed. We had loads of mind-blowing sex and I was over-the-moon delighted to discover what a dirty, experimental, and sexual creature she was. I think about all the various moments we had together and the biggest thing to stand out was how open, giving of myself, and completely vulnerable I was. And, subsequently, how fucking <i>HOT </i>that made things.<br />
<br />
My feeling that comfortable to be so bare with her is absolutely why it was the hottest sex either one of us had had to date. JC is still my benchmark for 'hottest sex ever' and while I did have one experience after JC that surprised me by coming close, the lack of vulnerability, love, and caring was what kept that experience from being as good.<br />
<br />
I had hoped, in a small part of my heart, that my vulnerability during sexual intimacy would be enough. That she would see that I was completely open and giving her everything that I had. That she would be able to see how deeply I felt and cared and wanted her, and that that would be enough. Obviously, though, sexual intimacy is generally not enough to fuel a real, healthy, adult relationship.<br />
<br />
A lot goes on in my head and most of it I keep to myself. I'm going to be working on courage, which is living with my heart. Vulnerability is one of the keys to happiness.<br />
<br />
<br />
<object height="374" width="526"><param name="movie" value="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"/><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><param name="bgColor" value="#ffffff"></param><param name="flashvars" value="vu=http://video.ted.com/talk/stream/2010X/Blank/BreneBrown_2010X-320k.mp4&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/BreneBrown-2010X.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=512&vh=288&ap=0&ti=1042&lang=eng&introDuration=15330&adDuration=4000&postAdDuration=830&adKeys=talk=brene_brown_on_vulnerability;year=2010;theme=how_the_mind_works;theme=a_taste_of_tedx;theme=what_makes_us_happy;event=TEDxHouston;tag=Culture;tag=communication;tag=social+change;&preAdTag=tconf.ted/embed;tile=1;sz=512x288;" /><embed src="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf" pluginspace="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" bgColor="#ffffff" width="526" height="374" allowFullScreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" flashvars="vu=http://video.ted.com/talk/stream/2010X/Blank/BreneBrown_2010X-320k.mp4&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/BreneBrown-2010X.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=512&vh=288&ap=0&ti=1042&lang=eng&introDuration=15330&adDuration=4000&postAdDuration=830&adKeys=talk=brene_brown_on_vulnerability;year=2010;theme=how_the_mind_works;theme=a_taste_of_tedx;theme=what_makes_us_happy;event=TEDxHouston;tag=Culture;tag=communication;tag=social+change;&preAdTag=tconf.ted/embed;tile=1;sz=512x288;"></embed></object><br />
<br />
<br><br />
(If you are on a mobile device, you probably can't see the video above, but you should come back and watch it. It's a superb and funny TED talk on the subject of vulnerability.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-32415235151112017352011-08-29T16:09:00.001-07:002013-07-23T13:30:55.513-07:00FairnessThe way I was raised, by my mother's example, no gift is given freely. Drilled into my head and extremely difficult to shake, even when it upsets my partners and doesn't serve me well, is that every gift given garners some sort of debt. I've thus spent my life with a mental tally sheet -- not so much because I'm concerned about whether I'm getting my share, but because I want things to be fair and that everyone involved be happy and satisfied.<br>
<br>
When I originally broached the subject of providing service in exchange for beatings, it took the form of 'trade'. And, as trade, it is important to me that Mistress feels that I am working adequately to pay for her time and energy. With weekly playdates, it put me well behind in terms of hours worked and what I would owe for a session.<br>
<br>
Things have evolved, I feel, into more of a personal service relationship rather than a tit-for-tat straight trade. What I mean by that, 'straight trade', is strictly business. I recently had a brief discussion with her regarding how I feel that things are perhaps more fair now that I have play dates every other week, in terms of the hours I'm able to work in that time. She thought about it and, bless her, she told me that she didn't think of it that way.<br>
<br>
So, even though things were originally broached as a trade situation, to my delight, things have, in reality, become more of a personal service situation. After talking with her, I feel I can relax somewhat on keeping a mental tally, of fairness, and know that she's satisfied.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-70954796231503977472011-08-18T13:14:00.000-07:002011-08-24T22:44:25.897-07:00SafetyOne of the most unexpected things I've found while exploring this whole service thing is how comfortable and how safe it feels to be fully myself. Not just the parts of me that are silly or dorky or that I often keep to myself for fear of judgment or whatnot. I mean that I'm free to fully be myself, in the broadest sense. Most surprisingly, what I'm finding is how freeing and safe it feels to be as giving of myself as I want.<br />
<br />
It's 'weird', but I have a deep need to give and to do. I need to feel helpful, useful, and wanted. I'm someone who really enjoys giving, making others happy, and, honestly, I enjoy putting others ahead of myself. I don't know how to describe it, other than it just doesn't feel right any other way. Not to mention, I have difficulty expressing my feelings, so the primary way that I show people I care for them is to do things. I realize now that I am a service-oriented submissive; I love being helpful, useful, needed. I love to make the lives of the people I care for easier and I want them to know that they are loved and appreciated.<br />
<br />
The problem has been that it has, historically, been extremely unsafe for me to be this way in most of my vanilla relationships, including my familial ones. It's tough being a person who thrives on the things I do, particularly when people can be so selfish and so easily take advantage. I've spent a lot of time trying to please the people I care about, but never without danger and rarely in a healthy manner.<br />
<br />
I started this life very idealistic and naive and I've had to harden myself up quite a bit. I learned that I had to withhold things and to stay guarded. I look back over my life and there's a lot of being taken advantage of or being taken for granted. Being manipulated or even abused by those who recognized the right buttons to push. It took me way too long, but after all the shit I went through in my last romantic relationship, I finally reached my limit and found the balls to stand up for myself. I am honestly totally fed up and no longer willing to take shit off of people.<br />
<br />
So, it's ironic to me, that after becoming so guarded, that I suddenly feel really safe being open, giving, and totally myself.<br />
<br />
I don't know why I'm this way, but it gives me great pleasure to make other people happy. I love showing people I pay attention to them by attending to their desires. I particularly love if I can read someone and provide what they want or need without them even having to speak a word. The reward of someone's delight, the awe of my remembering their preferences, is so worth the time and energy!<br />
<br />
I have worked in the service industry for a very long time and I don't think it's any coincidence that a) I am drawn to this line of work or b) that I'm pretty good at it. Being thoughtful, anticipating someone's desires, remembering the things they like or how they like them, going a step or two beyond what is expected with the hope of putting a smile on someone's face... all of these are things I naturally do for those I care about. It's just that it hasn't always worked out very well for me.<br />
<br />
Perhaps it's because I have empathic tendencies, but another thing is that I can't be happy if the people around me aren't happy. It also feels selfish to put myself ahead of someone else and I just feel much more comfortable if I let another person have first pick over me. I do have self-sacrificing tendencies, in that I'm happy to put myself second if I can be of service for someone or something greater than myself. I'm drawn to service, to helping others, and I'm most happy when I can do that.<br />
<br />
A couple of my friends have cautioned me to be careful, afraid that I might get taken advantage of. I assure them that they don't understand because if they did, they'd see there's no worry at all. Mistress is so wonderful and has only my best interests at heart. She is extremely giving, kind, and thoughtful, so it is my absolute pleasure to look after her. I know that I can approach her with any concerns and I also know that she has my back and is looking out for me.<br />
<br />
What they also don't understand is the amazing feeling that comes from being fully recognized. For the first time, I'm free to be myself because someone finally sees who I am and understands my need to give. Not only that, but I feel like Mistress knows that what I have to offer is given of myself as a gift. It's this difference of perspective -- gracefully accepting someone's gift, rather than taking what's on offer without any thought -- that makes all the difference.<br />
<br />
It's really the most marvelous feeling and so freeing to be able to be totally myself! I can do what I love -- giving, doing, putting others ahead of myself -- and feel totally safe and comfortable. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-44644668639182608662011-08-15T15:16:00.000-07:002011-08-15T15:21:53.205-07:00FavoritesMistress gave me an assignment this week, to write about what, in our sessions, that I'm finding that I like most and least. The issue for me is that this is not at all a simple question with an easy answer. There are a great many variables to take into account. So, much like when she asked me this question, post-beating when I was feeling stoned and spacy, I ponder this question and find it really difficult to answer simply.<br />
<br />
I think the conclusion I've come to is that, so far, there isn't anything I don't like. I enjoy all of the different sensations and I like that she switches things up and varies them. There are things I don't like as much as others, but it so happens that those things cause her obvious delight and I like hearing her laugh and have a good time much more than I dislike any activity. So, no complaints and nothing I want less of. (that is my honest answer and not a cop-out to avoid answering the question)<br />
<br />
On the other side of the coin, there are way too many things I love -- haha... -- and I will try to narrow it down..<br />
<br />
While I like all of the implements and sensations, if I had to pick, I think my most favorite thing is when she pulls my hair and spanks me at the same time. There is something super hot about that and it feels really good. I do so love to have my hair pulled...<br />
<br />
Barehanded spankings are at the top of my list, but I do enjoy the differing sensations of the other weapons and I enjoy not knowing what's coming next. I love being bound, tied or held down, the various cuffs and restraints, being blindfolded. I also really love when she banters with me throughout. I love the marks afterwards and the sore nipples, my private souvenirs, especially when she makes them on purpose. I love her awareness of the senses; the scratching, the caressing, or the deliciousness of well-timed application of ice on very red, hot, and sore skin. <br />
<br />
I really have no complaints whatsoever and I pretty much enjoy being on the receiving end of whatever she feels like doling out at the time. It's all so good, so masterfully orchestrated, I always leave feeling seriously bowled over at how fucking amazing things were. I wander out of there spacy, floaty, high, more than satisfied, and deeply grateful to her for her skill, time, and energy. Also a little bit of wondering how I got to be so lucky, because I really am!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-19705148841754801252011-08-13T21:25:00.001-07:002013-07-23T13:27:38.691-07:00Three MistressesThere are times where I feel emotionally out-of-sorts and I just don't feel like myself. I cast around trying to figure out what I need to feel better.. Do I want alcohol? No.. Do I want weed? No.. Junk food? No.. Masturbation? No.. I'll simply be feeling agitated and cranky, with no solution. I go through the list of possible remedies and none of it's right.<br>
<br>
Well, at least until I land on being beaten. I'm not quite used to that being the answer sometimes and I'm also not sure exactly why it is, but quite honestly, being spanked is exactly what I need sometimes.<br>
<br>
I've been having a couple of rough weeks emotionally, due to various things that keep happening one after another.. hormones, my stupid job, trying to wean myself off weed so that I can get a new job (pre-employment drug screen), and subsequently, not enough sleep. I've been very irritable and bitchy and basically not at all myself. Mistress, the wonderful, perceptive woman that she is, recognized that I needed to be beaten and made time to do just that.<br>
<br>
I arrived at the Domme house and we hung out and socialized a bit with one of her Domme friends, to whom she extended the invitation to knock on the door if the friend felt like spanking someone. I was amused and, I admit, hoping it would happen. We headed upstairs to the room she'd picked out for the evening. This room consists of a couch and a spanking horse that has been affectionately and humorously dubbed 'the rape rack'. I encourage you to say it out loud, it's pretty fun. Rape rack!<br>
<br>
She had me move the spanking horse more into the middle of the room and then laid some towels over it, all the while giving me playful and meaningful looks. I still get shy and blushy, especially at the beginning of our sessions. I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to just strip off so that she doesn't have to ask, but it feels kind of weird and awkward to do that without any sort of instruction, so I like to wait until she tells me to undress.<br>
<br>
Get on spanking horse, tied down. Mitten cuff things. Blindfolded. Fingernails scraping my skin, caresses. Starts spanking, easy at first. Whip.. bare hand.. paddle.. spanking my ass, thighs, shoulders, pussy. Warming me up.<br>
<br>
Tickling because she likes to see me squirm. Beating me all over with various implements.. paddle, slapper, rubber flogger, leather flogger. She then stopped, walked out of the room, closing the door and leaving me strapped down and blindfolded. She was gone for a while, leaving me wondering what she was doing.<br>
<br>
Returns and lights a clove cigarette, brushing the tip over my skin, the warm, reddened skin of my shoulders and ass. I've discovered I love the fear and danger of this. I trust Mistress implicitly and I know that she is expert at what she does, yet there is still an element of fear, which is oddly arousing.<br>
<br>
A knock at the door, making me chuckle a little. Another Mistress popped in to ask about a particularly evil implement -- the dragon tail -- that she was looking for. After she left, Mistress told me that she'd told the other ladies to not hesitate to knock and come in for anything they might need. <i>Anything at all</i>, she chuckled.<br>
<br>
<i>Great</i>, I said, laughing. <i>That was very nice of you.</i><br>
<br>
<i>Well, of course, we can't deny them things if they need them for clients..</i> she playfully replied.<br>
<br>
More beating, tickling.. dripping water and champagne on me, then the harsh, extra stinging slaps of an implement against wet skin. Spanking my feet, my pussy, my inner thighs.<br>
<br>
Then.. another knock at the door. Mistress' friend entered. They began discussing me and my red ass, Mistress saying that I'd been pretty quiet so far, but that I was warmed up and that I'd scream for her.<br>
<br>
What followed was mind-blowingly hot and awesome! The two of them proceeded to torture me in the most delicious ways.. scratching, biting, spanking, hair pulling.. all the while laughing and talking about me almost like I wasn't there. I always imagined that would be super hot, and it was. I gasped to feel lips and teeth on my neck.. a very sharp pinch of a bite which is now raised, bruised, and sore (no complaints here.. I love souvenirs!). I almost died with pleasure when I felt lips wrap around my toes, then the delicious sensation of them being sucked. <br>
<br>
The two of them were having a blast torturing me (okay, I was having a blast being tortured, as well!); scratching, poking, tickling. If that weren't enough, there was <i>another</i> knock at the door, mid-torture. Another Mistress came in to join in the fun. I've mentioned how lucky of a girl I am, right?? Holy shit.. the three of them, I lost track of what was going on. Some time during all this, Mistress applied clothespins to my nipples. Pleasure and pain at the same time. Loads of scratching and beating, but wonderful, pleasurable, sensual things at the same time. Stroking, soft female bodies against my bare skin, their laughter and giggles tickling my ears as they teased and tortured me.<br>
<br>
They poured champagne over my back and then licked it off, but that was short-lived and I received some sharp bites. Nails raking the skin on my back, my ass, and my thighs. Tickling in earnest to make me struggle and fight my bonds, but pretty much in vain, as I was tied down and unable to escape.<br>
<br>
I so didn't want it to end. It was beyond amaaaaaaaazing! The funny thing was that I really didn't feel shy or embarrassed at all. I do have an exhibitionist streak once I get over my shyness and self-consciousness and truthfully, I'd had a fantasy about being dominated and tortured by more than one woman at a time.<br>
<br>
When it was all over, my entire back side (back, ass, and legs) was warm and red. I have so many marks all over, which I love! Several really decent bite marks, some serious scratches, and my skin is plenty sensitive all over, even if there are no marks to be seen.<br>
<br>
That was so much fun.. so intense, but ridiculously hot and amazing. :)<br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-66800867725501328382011-08-08T11:22:00.000-07:002011-09-30T23:30:57.662-07:00The Arsenal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
So, Mistress has this 'toy bag', as she calls it.. which is really a big black rapier bag. She pulled it out and sat it in her dining room, where it sat for a week or more, making me insanely curious as to what was inside. Finally, we had a session last Friday and she instructed me to bring it so we could go through it together. Do you know what was inside? KINKY CHRISTMAS!! Holy crap, I'm so lucky. :P<br />
<br />
Here is her personal arsenal. After our last session, I was instructed to take the bag home and to organize it. There wasn't much to do in that regard, so I think this was mainly so that I'd have some private time to check everything out. I took the opportunity to photograph the cornucopia of weaponry...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrkPwtekXzmxG5HOEw7GRRzBiUnV2O6CTZoDRNIBaetz97wzbSAb9mmS_jqKlmBgSJi0jEVAC2w8SaQ7v-mOVufrZ6kGdk7aipTmVUUWahtvFNatkH8zODuZghypefQa13KR5Mw/s1600/The+Arsenal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrkPwtekXzmxG5HOEw7GRRzBiUnV2O6CTZoDRNIBaetz97wzbSAb9mmS_jqKlmBgSJi0jEVAC2w8SaQ7v-mOVufrZ6kGdk7aipTmVUUWahtvFNatkH8zODuZghypefQa13KR5Mw/s400/The+Arsenal.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-80970602503493357482011-07-20T00:20:00.000-07:002011-07-20T11:34:40.518-07:00ServiceMy sessions with Mistress... I am a bit overwhelmed with emotion and I really don't have adequate words yet. They are simply amazing... intense, so deliciously sensual, and she gives <i>the best spankings <b>ever</b></i>. I feel so lucky that our paths crossed, both in terms of the kink and also because in our developing a more personal relationship, I've come to discover that she is super sweet, kind, intelligent, and all-around very wonderful.<br />
<br />
After my first session with her, it was all I could think about for weeks -- I have a kind of highlight reel of my favorite moments that I like to replay to amuse myself. I couldn't believe how good it had felt, how tender and kind and sensual she was; it completely exceeded my expectations and I knew that I would have to go again!<br />
<br />
The second session was amazing, too.... she is masterful and superb at what she does. I'm sure I'll eventually write more on the in between, but for now, I need to carry on so I can start talking about the present. After our second session, we chatted a little bit and I asked if she might be willing to trade spankings for service. Super, super lucky me, she agreed. :)<br />
<br />
I guess I've been in her service for a month or so now. This situation is new to both of us in different ways (obviously, less new to her) and we've been just kind of playing it by ear. I started off working in the garden and am gradually taking on more and more tasks as time goes on.<br />
<br />
I'm finding a tremendous amount of joy in all of this, much to my surprise. While I was very drawn to it and while a part of myself was filled with a deep yearning for this sort of thing... as much as I've thought about it, I didn't have enough experience to be certain that serving a Mistress was something I <i>really</i> wanted. In hindsight, I see that this was unfounded: I worry a lot unnecessarily. I guess I was most afraid of disappointing her by getting involved in this and finding out it wasn't a good fit. I mean, I <i><b>thought</b></i> that I would enjoy it, but until you experience something, how do you know if you'll like it?<br />
<br />
Sure, I experimented and played at D/s, but never seriously and only once before with someone who had previous experience. For a long time, it was a fantasy, something my girlfriends and lovers would do to turn me on, but never its own thing. I spent many years thinking about BDSM, fascinated by the width and breadth of people's interests, pondering my own, dreaming, fantasizing... wishing I could meet someone with a natural dominant streak that would see and appreciate my submissive side. Not only that, really, but who would know what to do with it.<br />
<br />
As much as I was drawn to it and felt that I wanted it, I had very little luck coming even close to what I was looking for. Honestly, I wasn't even sure what that was or how to articulate it. I started to think that I was chasing a pipe dream, that what I desired didn't exist and/or that it was one of those things that are simply much better residing in one's head as a fantasy.<br />
<br />
I have a confession, which I hope you find as ironic and amusing as I do: I usually hate to be told what to do. I'm incredibly independent, dislike being ordered around, am not a fan of most menial tasks, and I generally am most happy doing things when they are my idea. I also generally can't stand being micromanaged and corrected.<br />
<br />
So, obviously, knowing this about myself, I had some concerns about whether this was a good fit, whether it was what I really wanted, whether putting myself directly into this kind of situation would tweak my rebellious, sassy streak. I didn't really have much experience to draw from, so I wasn't sure what it would be like or how it would feel.<br />
<br />
The truth is, none of these worries were very huge, just little niggling doubts. When I stopped and listened to my heart, this was what it wanted and so I was driven in this direction. Plus, I also just had this feeling that Mistress was extraordinary and I was very interested in getting to know her better. I am so grateful that she was open to giving me a chance because this has turned into one of the best things that has ever happened to me.<br />
<br />
What's surprising to me is not that I'm enjoying every minute of my service, but that I find myself thriving in the biggest way! I'm really, really happy and I find it extremely enjoyable and fulfilling.<br />
<br />
I love being asked to do things and I love being put to use! I don't mind the menial tasks, really, because it's for a very pleasant purpose -- making her life easier, maybe making her smile. I live for that smile.. it's just about the best thing ever.<br />
<br />
Often, in other situations, I'll see something that needs to be done (say, the dishes), not want to do it, and then avoid the task (at least for a while). With Mistress, I'm eager and sincerely happy to do it. I feel a real sense of responsibility and duty, and I am always aware of my place, which is also satisfying in a way I didn't anticipate.<br />
<br />
Weirdly (for me), I really enjoy when she asks me to do things. I feel a deep sense of happiness and satisfaction, that I'm being useful, and it's also a nice reminder of my place in all of this.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-89964258555981637892011-07-10T22:23:00.000-07:002013-07-23T13:28:22.114-07:00New ChapterA lot has happened in the past few months and suddenly, my life has taken a most wonderful and magical turn. It all started with finally finding a job after several desperate months of job searching. At my new job, I met a really cool girl -- who for this blog's purposes, we will call "Ollie" -- who very quickly became my best friend. She and I are so alike, it's both scary and ridiculously awesome.<br>
<br>
Right around the time Ollie and I met and were starting to get to know one another, her girlfriend answered a Craigslist ad and was interviewing to become a mistress at a local house of BDSM. I was immediately intrigued, of course! Visiting a professional Domme was on my bucket list and something I had thought a lot about, but I never expected to be able to overcome the intimidation and anxiety regarding the process, particularly the simple act of picking one place or one person. I wasn't even entirely sure how to articulate what I wanted, so how could I be certain that I'd be able to find it?<br>
<br>
Over the next couple of months, I was in rapt attention any time Ollie offered bits and pieces of information regarding The House where her girlfriend was being trained to be a professional Domme; eventually, my curiosity got the best of me and I started to pepper her with questions. The knowledge made it a bit less scary and I grew closer and closer to the idea that I might be able to actually DO this. I justified the cost to myself by allowing myself an indulgence for hitting the 6-month mark of quitting smoking.<br>
<br>
I often get overwhelmed to the point of paralyzation when faced with too many choices. It's like, how in the world do you choose? All of the women are gorgeous and powerful and intelligent... without some sort of guidance, it's practically impossible to pick one over the other. Seeing that I was lost in indecisiveness, Ollie's girlfriend recommended someone, who I then took a closer look at. Immediately, I was rather intrigued. I mean, she hit a bunch of my big turn-ons: beautiful, fair skinned, tall, curly red hair, obviously intelligent and well-spoken, physically powerful... there was also an allusion to sensuality, or at least so I hoped.<br>
<br>
It took me two or three weeks to wrap my mind around the whole thing and to get comfortable enough to where I was able to call to make an appointment. By that time, I kind of knew the low-down, but I was extremely nervous and intimidated by the whole process. I knew from reading the website that, as a new client, I'd have to call on the day on which I wanted to book an appointment. This was a bit difficult for me because, ordinarily, I'd call ahead, make an appointment, and then spend the rest of the time mentally preparing for it. This time, I had to wonder what was going to happen all the way up until I worked up the balls to call. Ha.<br>
<br>
Honestly, the process was not that difficult and the ladies I spoke with were very nice. I just am such a huge dork that I only make things worse for myself through my shyness, anxiety, and awkwardness. I'm grateful that a lot of people see it for what it is and are amused by it and that some of them even find it endearing. Anyway, after about a month of consideration and discussion, I managed to work up enough courage to book an appointment.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-55063131479897784852011-06-29T10:41:00.003-07:002013-07-23T13:28:43.574-07:00New Chapter: Session 2Circling, slapping, touching, applying the cane..<br>
<br>
Me panting, out of breath, assimilating the pain.<br>
<br>
She circled in front of me again. "Do we remember our safeword?" she asked with a sly smirk.<br>
<br>
"Yes," I replied quietly, heat rising to my cheeks.<br>
<br>
"Well, let's hear it."<br>
<br>
My voice was thick in my throat and my reply came out almost inaudibly. "Louder, so I can actually hear it, " she tsked.<br>
<br>
I cleared my throat and tried again, louder this time. "Yellow."<br>
<br>
"Excellent, " she said, then began to spank my breasts forcefully. I tried to be stoic, but it wasn't very long before I said my safeword in earnest.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-83134342251458900652011-01-06T15:12:00.000-08:002011-01-06T15:12:48.953-08:00The lengths to which we go...My life would make an excellent black comedy. I can only laugh at all the stupid things that I've done in the name of love or lust.<br />
<br />
The most memorable (and expensive) mistake I made was getting involved with this crazy girl, JS, who was in love with my ex. I knew she was crazy and I knew she was just using me to make my ex jealous, but because I knew this, I thought I was one up on her and that I had the situation locked down.<br />
<br />
It started out with a completely random phone call, where she wanted to know my ex's favorite flower. I was at first confused and surprised that JS was even calling me, considering I had never given her my number, but apparently my ex had. Once I gathered my thoughts, I had to tell her that I hadn't dated my ex that long and I honestly had no idea.<br />
<br />
After that, she stepped up her game and started flirting with me hard at the bar. This game was completely transparent and I knew exactly what was going on. However, I was really bored in my life and in need of some distraction, so I decided to play with fire, especially since crazy girls seem to be wicked good in bed. I totally thought that, being fully apprised of the situation, I had a handle on things and that I had JS's number.<br />
<br />
Well, tragically, she was horrible in bed, like... in my bottom two experiences ever... so it wasn’t even worth it. She had what my ex and I would later commiserate and call "sexual ADD". She'd start out doing one thing, and just as you were starting to get into it, she'd switch and start doing something else. Rinse, repeat, over and over.. very unsatisfying and strange!<br />
<br />
She was wonderful sober, but was also totally an alcoholic who turned into Mr. Hyde when she got drunk. I was out at the bar with my best friend and she was there, wasted, celebrating her cousin’s birthday. I barely remember the details, but I think she got snarky with me and my best friend stood up for me, and then they totally got into it. JS left the bar perhaps 10 minutes later. My friend and I left a couple of hours later and when I got in my car, I discovered <strong>JS had stolen my ignition</strong>. <small>Yeah, you heard me right.</small><br />
<br />
HUGE F-ING, EXPENSIVE HASSLE, let me tell you. I got dicked around by the mechanic, too, for a couple of weeks, until my friend’s husband called pretending to be my husband, then they straightened up.<br />
<br />
Anyway… yeah.<br />
<br />
I would like to say that I've learned to not play with fire, but knowing myself....Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-16530738981053361442010-12-31T13:45:00.000-08:002013-03-20T10:57:38.262-07:00Spanking? Yes, please!<div class="message">
There is likely a variety of reasons why someone might enjoy spanking (on either end of the deal). A spanker might be naturally dominant, enjoy power exchange, enjoy inflicting pain, enjoy the sensual, intimate aspects of spanking, etc. A spankee might be naturally submissive, enjoy handing the reins over to someone else, find the pain and the process to be physically arousing, perhaps they’ve fetishized childhood punishments, or something else. Some people may not be all that into the spanking itself, but find their partner’s reactions to be incredibly arousing, so they do it not so much because they love spanking, but because they are turned on by the intense physical reaction from the spankee.<br />
<br />
As someone on the submissive end of the kink spectrum, I can say from personal experience that there’s something deeply satisfying and arousing about the dynamic during a spanking. I have issues with control; I have a tight rein on everything during my normal life and it’s difficult for me to loosen that up. It’s due to this control that I struggle with allowing myself to be vulnerable, even in good, trusting relationships, and even in bed. Being the submissive one in a “scene” is like having a weight lifted off me for a time.. I pass on that control and I feel a grateful bliss.<br />
<br />
I do have a small dominant streak and I have tried my hand at spanking; I enjoy it when the mood strikes. I think what I like about it is being the one in power/control and being able to inflict a bit of pain that turns the other person on.<br />
<br />
My last two girlfriends were not naturally dominant (the last one identified as a submissive), but once they saw how my body responded to their taking control and spanking me, they really quickly got on board and both of them came to love doing it.<br />
<br />
I’m pretty sure my draw to being spanked (amongst other elements, such as craving punishment, discipline, and enjoying some humiliation during spankings) is due to my father beating me with a belt on my bare butt when I was little. These beatings were extraordinarily traumatic to me at the time, and not something I would intentionally take along into adulthood. I mean, as much as I have been spanked and enjoyed it, I have always thought I would draw the line if my top broke out a belt. Too close to home, you know? <br />
<br />
I make the connection because of the elements I mentioned above. Like, a spanking for no reason is great, but <i>man</i>, if you add in the element of punishment, it’s like over-the-top hot for me. I’ve long pondered my interest in kink, BDSM, spanking. I don’t remember when it began, when I realized that it turned me on. It’s just always been fascinating and arousing.<br />
<br />
In terms of whether fetishizing childhood punishments is positive or negative, I think it depends on the individual. To me, it’s like someone who has been raped that has rape fantasies. You have your traumatic event, then you have to work through it. Part of me sees either situation as being dependent on some factors. If the person is relatively healthy and is not still devastated by the trauma, I don’t see that as being negative. Under the right conditions, I think exploring this fetish with a healthy mindset is a way of working through the trauma in a safe environment. If the person hasn’t healed, it may be cathartic as well, but I would be afraid that that sort of play might rip open the wounds, rather than being therapeutic.<br />
<br />
Lastly, I will say that I have mixed feelings about my own abuse and later fetishes. I find it a little creepy and gross, in how it started. I mean, if I think of the abuse, it is not at all a turn on and it kind of makes me a little sick to my stomach. I guess it feels kind of weird when I analyze it, because I pretty much know where it all began (thanks, Dad!). However, I know enough psychology to recognize that it’s not a bad way to have processed this trauma. I could have gone other routes.. to become an abuser, or self-abusing through substances, or whatever. I guess my point is, in my case, that it’s probably not the most positive thing, but I’m trying to turn it into one by exploring the fetish in safe, comfortable ways.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-91588895542426702922010-12-28T20:15:00.000-08:002010-12-28T20:15:27.058-08:00GenderGender is a topic I find to be endlessly fascinating, so you'll probably hear more about it in the posts to come. Exploring and experimenting with ones masculinity and femininity, with society's gender roles, it's exciting and fun. I love it when people buck the norm.. women doing things that are traditionally male and vice versa, for example.<br />
<br />
I present as tomboyish and I consider myself <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genderqueer">genderqueer</a>, in that I feel a good balance of both male and female exists in me. I'm neither one or the other, I am both. Both sides require expression and sometimes it feels so good to be really girly or really boyish. <br />
<br />
JC and I were together for about two and a half years. Our sex life, the hotness level, was off the charts. We were just so bare, intimate, and connected with each other; both of us agreed it was the hottest sex of our lives. She grew up in a devoutly Catholic home and learned to suppress her sexuality. She was also a huge tomboy at heart, but had learned to present with a feminine appearance in order to fit in socially and to hide her emerging sexuality.<br />
<br />
When we were together, JC would sometimes let loose and express her boy side. I encouraged this because seeing how it transformed her, how it made her feel, was a huge turn on. She'd sometimes pack without saying anything and then appear at my side and wait for me to notice the considerable bulge in her pants. She loved playing a boy and I found it really hot. Not to mention, she really owned her cock and boy, did she ever know how to use it!<br />
<br />
I <i>love</i> a girl who owns her cock. Mmmm.<br />
<br />
Her boi persona was on the dominant side. We'd talk dirty as I stroked her. She'd get top-y and push it into my mouth. She loved wearing that cock and she loved watching me worship it, which I found to be immensely hot and arousing. JC liked to focus and imagine what it'd be like to fuck me, were her cock real. Man, she was good with that thing and she knew how to make me feel amazing! I loved imagining she could feel me, wishing she could get off inside of me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-23465905562746227682010-12-16T17:03:00.000-08:002010-12-16T17:04:49.610-08:00Love HesitatesThe one thing I want most in life, my ultimate life's goal, is love. True love, of course, with my soulmate or some other non-sappy equivalent. Love. Alas and alack! Love has been such a cruel mistress; giving me a taste of my heart's desire and then dancing away with it, laughing.<br />
<br />
Sex with someone you love is potent. It amazes me sometimes. Everything goes away, is erased from your consciousness, until the only thing that exists is that person. You become hyper aware of their every aspect; the warmth radiating from their body as they come closer, their smell, the subtleties of desire like their breathing coming quicker, their eyes darkening as their pupils dilate.<br />
<br />
This kind of sex is religious to me. Or, at the very least, spiritual. There is no other time that I am so completely and totally present in the moment. It feels like the touching of souls. Like the closest humans will ever get to feeling, seeing, or experiencing the Divine.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-8408913947708515522010-12-16T16:38:00.000-08:002010-12-16T16:40:05.214-08:00The Best Yahoo Question Answer Ever<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmMZYhujS3Ekxe-O6aXYIZaRkb45xO7daOwcED18-7chdPiqIoOYlWs38kUDVwJb_RVRY-UAxlGzxzPGMhc9UI2XxkeOLCMudG7LQHLY0Euu2a2JoWtJB_1rJnqkF8t5c8Y_v7A/s1600/BestYahooAnswer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmMZYhujS3Ekxe-O6aXYIZaRkb45xO7daOwcED18-7chdPiqIoOYlWs38kUDVwJb_RVRY-UAxlGzxzPGMhc9UI2XxkeOLCMudG7LQHLY0Euu2a2JoWtJB_1rJnqkF8t5c8Y_v7A/s640/BestYahooAnswer.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><a href="http://www.oktoofar.com/2010/08/best-yahoo-question-answer-ever.html?spref=bl">Ok...Too Far: The Best Yahoo Question Answer Ever</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-25915809358684743302010-12-09T17:39:00.000-08:002010-12-09T17:41:01.332-08:00Damn, it's cobwebby in hereAs is plainly obvious, I'm a bad blogger. Really, what happened was a relationship, an out-of-state move, and then it all went downhill from there for the next 5 years. What I've learned is that it seems impossible to blog while I'm in a relationship, whether that relationship is good or bad. <br />
<br />
I did have one pretty good relationship, JC, who I dated and with whom I cohabitated for over two years. I revealed this blog to JC, but then came to regret it as she made it clear she'd like me to blog about us. I found it too much pressure and choked.<br />
<br />
Then life. Focusing on survival. Not having reliable internet. Several moves. One really horrible girlfriend. Blah blah. <br />
<br />
Anyway, I was reading over some of my old posts and found myself a bit surprised and pleased with my writing here. So, I will try to post more! I am single again, after all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-80247686393869222702010-03-20T18:11:00.000-07:002011-07-10T10:36:09.063-07:00A FantasyIt's the end of my senior year, just weeks until graduation, and seeing that most of my work is finished, I've been finding it hard to care. I've been rolling into class late a lot, sometimes not bothering to show up at all. I had a feeling it'd catch up to me eventually, so I just roll my eyes and shake my head when I get called into your office. <br />
<br />
I stride down the empty hallway toward the office, where your matronly secretary scowls and ushers me directly into your presence, then sharply closes the door behind me. You sit perched behind the 'Principal' sign on your desk and, judging by your cold, appraising stare from across your imposing wood desk, you are not pleased. I sit down in an ancient leather chair and and roll my eyes slightly as you begin to lecture me on my disregard for the rules and the importance of being on time. Irritated, you rise slowly and tell me that I've been warned plenty of times and since it's obvious that the niceties have failed, it is time for more serious punishment.<br />
<br />
I raise an eyebrow, at least until you pull a ruler from your desk drawer, and then I blink. I look up at your face to gauge your seriousness as you slightly bend the ruler, showing me that it is rigid, yet somewhat flexible, then slap it quickly against your palm. It dawns on me what you intend and I swallow hard as I realize that that ruler probably is going to hurt quite a bit.<br />
<br />
You look at me, eyes narrowed and say, "Naughty girls who flout the rules get their backsides reddened." You smack your palm with the ruler again, this time more forcefully. "Stand up and bend over my desk, this instant."<br />
<br />
As I move to obey, my mind begins to race. My cheeks flush with embarrassment, knowing that you are going to spank me. I step in front of the desk and lean forward over it, my ass in the air and my breasts feeling the cool wood through my shirt. I hide my burning face and hear the swish of clothing as you move closer to me. I feel you lift the hem of my skirt over my ass and onto my back. My cheeks burn redder as I envision the now-clear view of my panties and everything underneath.<br />
<br />
The intervening seconds feel like an eternity as I wait anxiously for your next move. I'm in the process of wondering, and then you bring the ruler down on my ass. I was right; it really stings and I grit my teeth. You raise your arm and bring it down in the same spot several more times, creating an intensely sensitive and painful spot. I cry out a little, involuntarily.<br />
<br />
"Bad behavior does not go unpunished," you lecture, and bring the ruler down again, this time on the other cheek.<br />
<br />
I exhale through clenched teeth, fighting a groan. The ruler comes down again and again, varying your ever-stronger strokes so that my entire ass becomes red. "Naughty girls who don't learn have to be spanked," you say.<br />
<br />
With each blow of the ruler, you become more forceful and my ass more red and sensitive. It becomes difficult to stay quiet, and I begin to gasp each time the ruler strikes my skin. You pause a moment, place your palm on my ass, and lean forward to speak in my ear. Your hand lightly strokes my tingling ass as I feel your warm breath on my ear and hear you say, "I know this is what you need, because you cannot discipline yourself."<br />
<br />
You lean back up and quietly ponder for a moment. I feel your hand on my ass, then up to the waistband of my panties. "Oh, God," I think, but it's too late because you're already sliding them down. You pull them down over my ass and leave them on just below my cheeks. I know my ass is bright red and I'm mortified to know that you can probably see how wet and swollen my pussy is getting. I can hear the lightness in your voice and know you're pleased with your handiwork so far, "Such a bad, disrespectful girl deserves a real, bare-assed spanking."<br />
<br />
I whimper softly at the idea that there's more to come. You step back slightly and I brace myself, as you bring that wicked ruler down with a hard, stinging slap. You tan my ass with it, bringing it down over and over, causing me to jump at each blow. My ass is getting so sore and I start to wonder how much I can take. I hope each blow is the last, but you continue on bringing your arm down again and again, lecturing me. I feel each slap of the ruler more intensely and more painfully than the last.<br />
<br />
Just when I wonder how much more I can take, you pause again. I hear you set the ruler down and can feel the heat of your body near my inflamed skin. You run your palm over my now bright red skin, which is radiating a lot of heat. The skin of your hand is a pleasing torture, it is both erotic and a painful reminder of your beating. You gently stroke the skin of both ass cheeks and my face burns more as I feel you lower your hand to brush over my wet, swollen lips. I am so tense and turned on that I moan shamelessly; your touching between my legs has sent another rush of wetness. I can't help but move my hips slightly as your fingers slide along my slit to rub my clit briefly, then back up to tease my opening.<br />
<br />
I hear you pick up the ruler and I let out a groaned sigh of frustration. I am so wildly turned on and quivering with desire and anticipation that I can't help but cry out with each strike of the ruler. You strike again several times, hard, unbearably in the same spot, just to watch me writhe and beg you to stop with my cries.<br />
<br />
*SMACK!*<br />
*SMACK!*<br />
*SMACK!*<br />
<br />
Over and over, expertly covering my ass with strikes as you beat me, not a patch of skin spared. You continue to lecture and berate me for my bad character, but I can't focus on your words anymore. Each blow hurts worse than the last and my ass is hot, sore, and stinging. I don't think I can take much more and helpless tears spring to my eyes. Just when I'm about to cry or to beg you to stop, I hear you set down the ruler and come up behind me. I breathe a sigh of relief and sag on the desk, trying to catch my breath.<br />
<br />
Your fingertips tease and taunt as they play over my sore, tingling skin. I can feel the wetness beginning to drip down my lips. You run your fingers down between my legs, and lean over me. I can feel the hardness of your cock through your pants, pressing into my hip. Your fingers begin to explore more aggressively, sliding through the slick wetness, feeling how swollen my lips and clit are, and I moan. Your fingers tease my clit, slide down my lips, then I feel one slowly slip inside. I can no longer hold it in and give a long, loud moan as your finger slowly makes its way into my pussy.<br />
<br />
I give a groan of disappointment as I feel your finger exit. I hear your zipper slide down, a short rustle of clothing,and then feel the head of your cock pressed against my pussy lips. "Oh, God," I groan, as you take my hips in your hands.<br />
<br />
In the next moment, you ram your hard cock all the way inside me. I give a deep-throated moan as I feel your cock parting my tight pussy, opening it up until you're as deep as you can go. You rest there a moment, holding your cock deep inside, enjoying the feel of my pussy and how it pulses around your cock. You comment on how hot to the touch my ass feels against your skin, with a small, sadistic chuckle.<br />
<br />
Then, my hips in your hands, you make a point to pound against my sore, red ass, driving home my punishment, reminding me with each thrust. You lean forward and ask in my ear, "How does that spanking feel now?" You drive into me, slapping my ass hard with your hips. "Your pussy is so wet, you really are a dirty, dirty girl..."<br />
<br />
All I can do is moan and work my pussy on your cock. I want it so bad and it feels so good to be taken like this. You reach a hand up under my shirt, push my bra up, and squeeze one of my breasts, making the nipple hard. You pinch it, which causes my pussy to squeeze your cock. You give a grunt of pleasure and continue to drive your cock in and out of me. I keep getting wetter and more turned on and I feel like I could take it forever, but soon your thrusts come faster and faster and I know you're going to come.<br />
<br />
One hand squeezing my breast, the other on my hip, you drive your cock forcefully into my pussy, working closer to orgasm. Your breathing gets faster, your thrusts faster and harder, and I know you're close. Finally, the hand on my hip flies up, and you get a tight fistful of my hair, pulling my head back and holding it there. You let out a long, throaty groan, thrust a few times shallowly, then plunge your cock deep in me. You hold me tight against you as you ride out your climax in a series of breathy groans.<br />
<br />
When you are finished, you slide out of me and give my ass one last hard slap with your hand and tell me to get dressed. You give me a stern look and say that you hope I've learned my lesson.<br />
<br />
XOXOUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-1142580534081056612006-03-16T23:28:00.000-08:002006-03-16T23:28:54.106-08:00Sex and the City, Part III was 18, living on my own for the first time and just beginning to explore the limits of my new-found freedom and adulthood. My social circle almost entirely consisted of 'Netters' and during this time I dated, went to parties, experimented with substances like alcohol and marijuana, and started exploring my sexuality.<br /><br />The BBS/chat system I used regularly would let members post event announcements. At some point, I took notice of an announcement for a bi-monthly pansexual orgy. All the details were explained: it was being hosted in a play environment with amenities such as a dungeon and a hot tub, it was bisexual, men and women welcome, safe play encouraged. I didn't know what '<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pansexual" target="_new">pansexual</a>' meant, but the idea of going to a sex party both turned me on and made me intensely curious. I really wanted to go, but there was no way I would go by myself. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of anyone I could ask, so after I fully mulled over the whole thing, the idea got shelved.<br /><br />There were one or two more announcements as the months went by, and while I still very much was interested in going, I still couldn't fathom attending alone and hadn't yet found someone who would be game for attending with me. I had been platonically hanging out with a Netter named John and not long after another one of the orgy notices had been posted, the subject came up in conversation one night at a coffee shop. Now that I think on it, I believe John was the one posting the announcements and I probably asked him about it. He expressed a desire to go, and I mentioned that I had been interested in going, too. After some discussion, we decided that we would go together and began to excitedly make our plans for the evening.<br /><br />The night of the party rolled around and I was very nervous. I was still not properly relieved of my virginity and while I didn't entirely rule out the possibility, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be having sex that night. I was on the precipice my sexual awakening and still quite inexperienced and scared. I mostly wanted to watch. I wasn't entirely sure what to expect, but on the bus ride there, John assured me that the atmosphere was very relaxed and that I wouldn't have to do anything I didn't want. He told me I could simply say "no, thank you" if I wasn't interested in a play proposition, and that no one would be offended.<br /><br />We got off the bus and as we walked the quiet lamp-lit streets, my heart was pounding. All I could think was, <i>"What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?"</i> I followed him a few blocks to a nice but rather unassuming house in a decent neighborhood. From the normal exterior, you would never guess what was going on inside!<br /><br />John checked in with me as we ascended the steps and I assured him I was fine, but the truth was, my heart was racing and I was petrified. However, I am an adventurer at heart and I was absolutely determined to go through with this, if simply for the story I could tell later. So he knocked on the door, which opened and a man greeted us. There was a door leading to a side room behind him to the right, and several people milled around the hallway just beyond. The man was very nice and apparently we had chosen the right night to attend because he told us that the evening was 'two for one', and after splitting the cost with John, all I ended up paying was $10. <br /><br />He ushered us through the door in the foyer into a small room that was crowded with a desk, cubbyholes, coat pegs, and people's clothes and belongings. The woman behind the desk took our money and handed us brown paper grocery bags. I glanced at John and tried to figure out why I needed a paper bag. He started to unbutton his shirt. I must have looked confused because the woman said, <i>"Put your clothes in there and find a spot anywhere in here to leave them."</i><br /><br />Immediately, I panicked. <i>"Wait...what?! I <b>have</b> to be naked?!"</i><br /><br />I'm a pretty shy person and I have never loved my body, so the thought of a cold-blooded strip-down and subsequent nude parading in front of strangers was enough to flip me out. I was so freaked out, I can't even remember the details of the discussion that followed my question, other than to say I was eventually assured I could wear a towel. Relieved, I calmed down and accepted my towel, then proceeded to self-consciously strip right there while getting as un-naked as possible. John was comfortable being naked and decided to forgo a towel, so by the time I finished, John was standing there in all his glory. <br /><br />I should mention that, starting not long after we set off, John had been telling me throughout the evening that I was beautiful, something he had never said to me before and which struck me as fairly opportunistic. It seemed to me that he was hoping I might oblige him when we got to the party. As he stood there naked, the way he looked at me confirmed these suspicions. When we were properly undressed, the man that had greeted us gave us a short run-down on the facilities and where everything was located.<br /><br />I can't pinpoint when exactly I started being turned on by kink, but I figure I must have been exposed to it during high school because at 18, the thought of an orgy was more arousing and intriguing than it was shocking. All I know is that my embarrassment and self-consciousness faded as my curiosity took over and as we stepped out of the room ventured deeper into the rest of the house, my eyes were roaming wildly in order to take everything in.<br /><br />At the end of the hall, but just before the living room, was a cutaway square hole in the floor with a fireman's pole in the center that lead downstairs. I peered down there in an attempt to get some idea of what I had gotten myself into, while simultaneously trying to figure out the hows and whys of sliding down the pole. I also tried to wrap my head around the idea of sliding down a pole naked. Ha.<br /><br />We came out of the hallway into the open kitchen and living room. To the left, in the living area, were a few men occupying the couch and chairs and watching a porn video playing on the large-screen TV. They noted our arrival, surveyed the prospects, and gradually returned their attention to the porn. There were assorted refreshments on the kitchen counters, which we passed as we walked closer to the glass sliding doors leading to the backyard. I was busy looking around and taking everything in, so I simply followed John's direction.<br /><br />John stepped through the glass doors and we went down some wooden stairs. At the bottom of the steps was the hot tub, which a couple of people were enjoying. We turned back toward the house and went down another set of steps to the bottom floor, into 'the dungeon'. The basement was almost entirely open, save for a doorless room on the far street side.<br /><br />This is the part of the story where my mind started to get blown. We stepped into the basement 'dungeon' and it was truly an orgy for the senses. So much was happening around me! There were probably 20 or 30 people there in total, and most of them were involved in doing dirty things with one another. As we came through the door, directly in front of us was a hip-height padded table upon which a naked man was kneeling on his hands and knees. I can't even remember the gender of his partner because I was so fascinated by what they were doing. I watched as the partner put on latex gloves, lubed up, and slowly began the process of anal fisting. This was the first of many things I had heard about, but never actually seen or tried.<br /><br />Ahead of us to the left were semi-private partitioned spaces with mattresses on the floor. The partitions were the kind you use for office cubicles, made with enough space for other people to walk through and stand to watch the action. I figured it was for people who didn't want to have sex in front of <i>everyone</i>, but were okay with a few people as an audience. We took a quick tour through these, and John flopped down on a mattress while making some semi-joking suggestions. I was definitely turned on by everything at that point, so I have to admit that I considered fucking John at various times throughout the night. However, I didn't think it was a good idea to sleep with John and standing there in the cubicles, I just couldn't picture myself having sex in front of all those people.<br /><br />I was eager to explore, so we wandered back out. There was a room I hadn't noticed when we came in, on the same wall and recessed under the stairs we had come down. Party lights lent an orangey-pink glow to the room and when I peeked in, I realized everyone in there was male. It seemed to be pretty happening; there were several men in there, some on a couch, some standing, some on the floor. All naked, all stroking each other's cocks. I felt another pang of desire. I admit I like gay porn, and watching a guy jerk off (or get jerked off) really turns me on. I wanted to stand there and watch them, but I felt kind of weird about it, like it was a boys' club and I was an intruder. They kept looking at me and I took that to mean they wanted to me to go away.<br /><br />To the right side of the door we entered was an open area that might have had mattresses on the floor because people were fucking there. There was a loose group of people watching and slowly touching themselves. We walked toward the back, past the padded table and cubicle rooms to the room on the far end of the dungeon. On the way, I spied a leather sex sling suspended from the ceiling, so we went over to it and I made John explain to me how it worked. I definitely liked the idea; it turned me on and I made a mental note to try it at some point.<br /><br />We went into the room on the far end of the dungeon and it was full of kinky bondage equipment. I'm sure there were other things, but I was quite fascinated by the cage and the rack, which apparently captured all of my attention because those are the only things I remember. John and I joked and talked a little bit about everything, and then for fun, he crawled into the cage and I shut it. I began to feel a little weird about playing with him in there, knowing he wanted more and knowing I didn't want to go there with him. When he got out of the cage, then asked me to stretch him on the rack. I agreed somewhat reluctantly and he climbed onto the contraption. I strapped down his wrists and ankles and then began to turn the wheel beside his head.<br /><br />(To Be Continued..)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-1137873480674170152006-01-21T10:48:00.000-08:002006-01-21T12:21:44.040-08:00Sex and the City, Part II grew up in a pretty big city that embraces diversity of all types. I have since realized that it was probably the best place I could have been raised, considering how different I am from the mainstream in many ways, to have that accepted and encouraged by others. Also, being the distinctly curious sexual being that I am, my city was one of the best places to be, in that there were plenty of opportunities to observe, explore, and to try out new things. One thing I've always liked about my city is that you can find just about anything you're looking for. That and the fact that freakishness is not only accepted, but it's encouraged in a sense. That is my kind of place!<br /><br />Before the internet became mainstream, before the Web, I discovered a local chat network (XX Net -- 'XX' being the city name) that had terminals in local coffeeshops all over the city. I had read about the internet and thought it was so cool, so when one of the Net machines cropped up in a neighborhood coffee house, I jumped on it. XX Net was a local BBS that focused less on message boards and games, as most of the other BBS's did, and far more on chatting. It connected some of the funniest, most intelligent people in the city and I was enthralled. Soon, I was hooked and scrounging up my allowance to buy a modem so I could log in from home. To give you a time frame, I was 15 and so excited to find a used 14.4k modem because it was top-of-the-line and the fastest speed available. Kind of funny now, right?<br /><br />I made a ton of friends via XX Net, which rescued me from the social black hole that was my 75-student private school (there were maybe a dozen people in my entire class). Over the next few years, I was a regular. I engaged in a lot of different social activities like hanging out and going to 'Net-Gets', parties, and bonfires. Most of the sexual experiences I had during this time were somehow related to XX Net.<br /><br />I consider myself as actually having lost my virginity at 18, but the truth is that I had tried to have sex a few times before that. None of the first times worked because the guys could enter me, but only part of the way. It was like they were being physically blocked and it really hurt when, thinking they just needed to break through, they tried to proceed anyway. After a few similar experiences, I saw a doctor because I thought I had a hymen of steel, but it turned out my hymen was fine. I had a psychological condition that caused me to tighten my vaginal muscles like crazy, preventing penetration, because I was so nervous.<br /><br />In any case, I went through a slew of random sexual encounters at this time. I fooled around with guys I didn't know very well, and because I had no real intention of losing my virginity to them, I gave more head than I care to remember. The first time I tried to have sex was with a man who was married and practically separated from his wife. He was probably in his late 20's and we were both attracted to each other, so we ended up in a somewhat seedy hotel. We had some drinks and made out, but for the reason above, sex ended up being a no go.<br /><br />The next guy was someone I'd met at a festival and our drunken attempt at coupling in his tent was once more somewhat of a failure for the same reason. Though I will never forget his answer to the problem: to lean back and try to ram it inside me with a great deal of force, but missing, and instead ending up ramming his cock in my ass.. totally unprepared, unlubed, etc.. all I can say is MOTHERFUCKING OW. Aaaaand that was pretty much the end of that.<br /><br />The next guy was Bryan, a guy I was dating and whom I really liked. He was a sweet guy. He lived about 30-45 minutes away, so after one date that ran late, I invited him to stay over. We ended up making out and as things got more hot and heavy, he told me that he was a virgin. We tried to have sex, same deal.. no go. I was at the peak of dealing with my sexuality and ended up breaking up with him not long after because I was all freaked out.<br /><br />Later on that year, I ended up successfully having sex with Jeremy. He and I were close friends and I felt very comfortable with him. There was never any pressure to have sex, other than from my end, and though I had a bit of a crush on him, no chance for a relationship. He'd had his heart broken by some bitch that had treated him like shit and he was still healing. It ended up being the perfect situation. Because I was left to boil in my own arousal, I was totally ready to have sex with him. I was relaxed, very turned on, and I trusted him implicitly. Amazingly, this time, things fell into place. He entered me easily, slid past my hymen, and right into fucking me. Even better was that it only hurt a little and for a short time in the very beginning, and right away it all felt so good and enjoyable. I ended up being quite glad that things had worked out this way and that he was the guy that deflowered me.<br /><br />Anyway, all of this is a bit of backstory leading up to a story I want to retell.. Part II will be the details of the orgy I attended in my city at age 18.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-1133313543159506172006-01-21T10:47:00.000-08:002006-01-21T13:20:54.293-08:00AcceptanceI am the first to admit that letting go and accepting things can be incredibly difficult. My issues in this department are likely hereditary; my mom really takes the cake when it comes to reacting to things that don't fit into her idea of how she wants things to be. You see, my mom lives on her own planet, where the world is carefully crafted to fit her aims and desires. Memories become altered in her mind to satisfy her particular point of view, and often things become far rosier in hindsight. Mom will even go so far as to outright deny events or to occasionally fabricate her own version of things that don't exactly mesh with reality.<br /><br />My relationship with my mom is interesting and definitely not perfect, but I do love her. While having a mother who lives on another planet can be frustrating and sometimes painful, to be fair, I don't think she intentionally skews reality, she just sort of subconsciously molds it to fit her version of the truth. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism left over from her sad, rough childhood. Whatever the reason, once she grasps on to something, there's no arguing with her... and this is an unbreakable wall that separates us.<br /><br />What has been very difficult for me in my life is my mother's outrageous expectations of me, expectations that never change despite the fact that I'm an adult now and that it should be fairly obvious: I am who I am at this point. How does one live up to a fervent hope they'll become something that is inherently not them? We're not talking about hoping that I become a doctor and being disappointed that I'm heading down the path of serial killer, we're talking <i>beyond</i> the hope of the best for your child into a place that borders on selfishness. For example, my mom always wanted me to be very girly. When I was little, when my mom was the decorator, my room looked like a Pepto Bismol bottle puked all over it. Seriously. Every thing that could be painted was painted vivid pink. Now, girly is something I am not and never have been, and when I finally had my own say, I quickly changed the color scheme to blue. Yet, after nearly three decades, she is <i>still</i> obviously disappointed that I'm still a tomboy. <br /><br />I consider it outrageous because it's all about not accepting who I am at my very basic. It's about her not seeing me.. the real me, adult me, not a teenager anymore, hello?.. because she quite plainly seems unable to simply <i>accept me</i>. I don't think it's fair to someone to hope they'll be something else when what they are is pretty damn good. I'm sure my mom loves me unconditionally, considering all of the shit I have put her through, but I wish for once she could just drop the bullshit with me and simply see me.<br /><br />My mom's version of a daughter included a 'straight' sexual orientation, so needless to say, she had a hard time when I spoke to her about my first girlfriend. I just wanted to gush because I was in love and the girl was so awesome, but it was clear Mom was shocked. I had a rather liberal upbringing, so her reaction both hurt and confused me. I had expected her to be happy for me, but I realized that she wasn't happy about it when she quickly changed the subject. <br /><br />In fact, the great irony here is that my mother is the ultimate fag hag. (No disrespect with that term, by the way, I love gay boys, too!) I was surrounded constantly with gay men while growing up and a great number of them were like family to me. They attended our family holidays and we spent a lot of time together. Later on, I realized that I didn't know any lesbians growing up, which, if you think about it, is a little strange coming from someone who lived in a city with one of the highest gay populations in the country.<br /><br />Pieced with the reaction I got from coming out, I came to the conclusion that my mom doesn't like lesbians. I know for a fact that she had at least one bisexual experience since I came out, but that hasn't seemed to alter her perception any. At first, it made me angry that she was in such denial about it. I let it go for the most part, though I checked in a couple of times to see if she'd begun to accept it or not, hoping for progress. Each time, her response simply floored me to the point of speechlessness. She told me all sorts of things, arguing the case against me being gay, things I never expected to come out of my mother's mouth. Just... ignorant stuff I would ordinarily make fun of. I couldn't believe she would tell me that I hadn't dated enough men, that I just hadn't found the right guy yet and she didn't want to see me close myself off to the idea. <br /><br />She would never tell her gay friends they hadn't met the right woman yet. Denial is one thing, but this counts as lying to yourself.<br /><br />At one point, while trying to get out of an abusive relationship, I was denied rental of an apartment because I was honest with my potential roommate and told him I was gay. I certainly would rather know if someone is a bigot before moving in with them and finding out the hard way. I mean, they're going to figure out I'm gay eventually.<br /><br />I told my mom about being turned down and she told me that I shouldn't have said anything. I explained my reasoning and we got into a conversation that sort of blew my mind. My mom told me that if she were a landlord and had a choice of a straight tenant and a gay tenant, she would choose the straight tenant. I asked her why and she couldn't give a clear answer, but finished by saying, <i>"Well, I just have more in common with the straight people."</i> This coming from a woman whose social circle once consisted almost entirely of male homosexuals!<br /><br />She periodically asks me if I think I'm going to have kids, which doesn't bother me much other than my desire for children is slowly decreasing and if I decide not to have them, how disappointed she would be. She wants to be a grandma and I don't begrudge her that. I'm not all anti-Mom, but her weird, sometimes uncool ideas crop up all the time, even now when I thought she was finally starting to accept it.<br /><br />I'm not entirely sure what catalyzed the change, but Mom has started to accept my sexuality. She is most comfortable trotting me out to win cool points with gay people, but she does talk about it now and in another, bigger step, she even asks me about my love life and the people I'm dating. This change has only been in the past year, but I have been glad of it.<br /><br />Which is why I was so surprised by what she said to me recently. I hadn't talked to my first girlfriend in a while and in a catch-up email, I learned that she had gotten married to the guy she started seeing right after we broke up. I told my mom this news and before I could finish, she said, <i>"Ooohhhhh... <b>see?</b>"</i> Her tone of voice implied that there was still a chance for me, too, to have a heterosexual marriage. <i>Don't worry, there's a man out there for you!</i><br /><br />Grrr. So frustrating on many levels.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-1133967630983932202005-12-07T07:00:00.000-08:002014-06-07T11:20:30.428-07:00VirginityI came across the site <a href="http://almost40virgin.blogspot.com/" target="_new">Almost 40-Year-Old Virgin</a> and was both interested and fascinated by the author's situation. I had never really thought about it before, but I suppose virgins, especially male virgins, face quite a bit of anxiety, shame, and judgment. Especially so as time goes on and they get older; not just the disdain of others, but I think at some point the virgin begins to question themself, what is wrong with them and whether it is ever going to happen at all.<br />
<br />
My personal history includes a few virgins, in addition to having been the first female experience for several women. I have a very tolerant and relaxed view of sex and while, to some degree, I am guilty of the same sort of judgment of older virgins that the predicament elicits in most people, I feel less that it's a big deal, or that it reflects badly on them personally, and more concern and empathy for the person's underlying phobias or insecurities. I suppose because sex and physical intimacy have come very naturally to me, I find myself wanting to help someone who is struggling with those things.<br />
<br />
One of my ex-girlfriends was 31 and had never had sex with anyone. She had been kissed a few times and got to second base once with a guy, but she confessed that she really did not enjoy any of the experiences. Her personality was such that she had put relationships and sex on the back burner while all her focus was on what she considered to be most important at the time: school and straightening out her life. When I met her, she hadn't even sorted out her sexuality at all, instead using what few experiences she had with men as further proof that being intimately involved with someone was a waste of time and energy. In a way, her virginity was somewhat accidental because opportunities hadn't surfaced for her in the way they have for me. At 31, she was a mixture of terrified, uncomfortable, and grossed out/unexcited by the idea of sex.<br />
<br />
We started out as friends, but as we knew each other, our feelings grew. Finally we both admitted we had crushes on each other and after a long talk, we decided to explore things. When I'm excited and/or eager about something, I have a difficult time with patience and not pushing, but I honestly did try to go as slowly as I could. It wasn't easy breaking down the walls she had built up and admittedly, I made some errors with her, but overall, I was definitely a turning point in her life. Even though things didn't work out between us, I'm sincerely glad that despite my mistakes, she has gradually opened up to the world of sex and relationships. She's had several girlfriends since and according to her, some rewarding sexual experiences.<br />
<br />
If you watch <i>The Apprentice</i>, you know about Adam, a 22-year-old virgin. <a href="http://almost40virgin.blogspot.com/" target="_new">Almost 40-Year-Old Virgin's</a> post about <a href="http://almost40virgin.blogspot.com/2005/11/virginal-apprentice.html" target="_new">the virgin apprentice</a> offers a different perspective. On the show, Adam is sort of scoffed at and made fun of for his virginity and his discomfort with sex, in addition to being very much put on the spot for it on several occasions. My reaction to his virginity and squeamishness was probably not far from the reaction of the others on the show. I was so busy paying attention to how Trump would handle Clay's homosexuality that I failed to realize everyone's judgment of Adam was wrong. What's sort of perplexing to me is that according to Trump, it is better to be gay than a virgin.. this, in a country that is petrified of and which constantly marginalizes homosexuals, gay men in particular, so to make such an allusion just goes to show how low virgins rank on the social totem pole. Sorry, guys.. that just sucks.<br />
<br />
I think part of it is that most people don't realize there is a segment of the population that is terrified and uncomfortable at the prospect of intimacy. It's so easy to hear that someone is a virgin and chalk them up as having some innate personal flaw that has precluded them from shrugging off the onus of virginity. But think about it.. we don't marginalize people who are phobic of air travel, or dogs, or swimming in large bodies of water. So does having social phobias make someone a loser? I think not, at least no more than anyone who has a different phobia, but what's odd in our society is that if such a phobia prevents someone, especially men, from being sexually active, then automatically something is wrong with them.<br />
<br />
The 'virgin apprentice' post got me thinking and looking at the situation in a new light. I have lately realized that I'm not just 'shy', I think I have some real social phobias, especially when it comes to large groups of people. I know it's not logical, but I have real fears when it comes to other people in social situations. So even though my fears manifest in a different way, I completely understand and empathize with both Adam and <a href="http://almost40virgin.blogspot.com/" target="_new">Almost 40-Year-Old Virgin</a>. And in that light, I think the judgment isn't fair. A phobia is irrational by nature and anyone who has one knows that it takes a lot of work to overcome.<br />
<br />
Lastly, I think the dichotomy of male and female sexuality rears its ugly head in this area. As ever, it is considered the norm for men to act like dogs and fuck whatever moves, but failure to conform to this ideal results in harsh social judgment. It definitely is different for men. While there will always be men lining up to relieve a woman of her virginity, no matter her age, male virginity automatically puts in mind the question of what is wrong with the guy.. is he a loser, ugly, nerdy? Of course, the older one gets without having sex only compounds the issue. It challenges the stereotype of the virile man who wants to dip his pen into whatever well is available and people can't seem to wrap their minds around the fact that not all men are like this.<br />
<br />
Now that I think of it, shame on both Clay and myself. As non-heterosexuals, we both should know full well that you cannot judge a person or their quality based solely on their sexuality. In my mind, that includes someone who hasn't explored it yet. I'll be checking back on <a href="http://almost40virgin.blogspot.com/" target="_new">Almost 40-Year-Old Virgin</a> to see how things unfold.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110586.post-1131078716051595112005-11-03T19:14:00.000-08:002005-11-03T20:31:56.086-08:00Hellooooo....Wow.. nearly a month since my last post. I'm surprised no one sent the cops over to my place to make sure I was still alive. Anyway, I really didn't mean it to be a month.. it seems like time gets away from me sometimes.<br /><br />I'd apologize to anyone still reading, but I feel in some ways, I was preventing myself from truly boring you all. While I still don't have this blog pinned down, the one thing I know I don't want it to be is boring. The minutiae of relationships is interesting to an extent, but I feel it would be tedious here if there is no point or critical idea to draw from. I want my readers to feel less as therapists and more as confidantes. Also, if I am going to recount my life, I want to feel truly inspired to do so. It's the perfectionist in me; I want to give this blog my very best and I want to feel as if I can stand behind it.<br /><br />Call it an exhibitionist streak, but I enjoy letting you peek inside my dirty head. What I have posted so far is a mere taste of the kink that resides in my brain and I hope to share that in the future. I think quite a bit and come up with all sorts of random ideas, some of which I try to funnel into writing. Some make it into blog posts, but when I'm not inspired, others get filed away.<br /><br />I'm tired and in a rambling mood, so you'll have to be forgiving of this disjointed post. I broke up with MC and while the situation is not perfect, we are still friends. She mentioned to me that she would like to be fuck buddies and while that appeals to my libido, my brain keeps putting its foot down. I don't know. My libido ususally wins, but this could be an interesting fight.<br /><br />When I'm dating someone and having sex regularly, I usually lose my desire to masturbate. As I have mentioned before, masturbation is practically a hobby for me and it is rare that I go a day without. The abstaining is both physical and logical. The regular sex keeps me satisfied, while subduing the desire results in better orgasms later.<br /><br />This time around, when I went back to my vibrator, I noticed something. I guess it's something I have always sort of vaguely observed. I have better orgasms alone than I do with my partners. I'm not saying I don't have great orgasms during sex, but when allowed to really focus on myself, I have much more intense, longer orgasms alone.<br /><br />There was such a noticeable difference this time that it prompted me to think about it. The intensity was almost startling at first. It makes me curious as to whether other women find this to be the case. Ladies, when, on average, do you have better orgasms? <br /><br />I mean, when I'm alone, I can do whatever turns me on the most in that moment. Think about anything I want, truly focus on the sensations. I can really draw out that pre-orgasm peak to result in a huge explosion. Masturbation is good stuff.<br /><br />Sex is good, too, and I have had some really mindblowing orgasms at the hands of someone else. With MC, I found that as my heart was in the relationship less, the quality of the sex decreased. It's not that she doesn't turn me on, because she definitely does, but sometimes I found myself a little bored. I know it should be hot and that I should be fully into it, so my awareness that my lack of feelings was generally unfair to her was the main thing that drove me to break it off.<br /><br />All this talk about orgasms and masturbation.. gonna have to go do something about it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3