Such is life

I was washing dishes today and trying to chat with Luke who was sitting in the living room. At some point, after getting quite tired of the back and forth chorus of “what?” I took the dish I was drying over the corner to actually see him while attempting conversation. So there I was, standing and drying a dish wearing a ratty old t-shirt of his and a pair of boxers, also his… and this get up is by the way my all time favourite and first pick for home attire … and he gives me the look. There is no accounting for taste.
“Come here.” He says pointing at his cock, grinning.
“I am not coming over there!” I say rather seriously and yet I am inexplicably moving forward.
“Come here.” He repeats, confident grin and directional aid intact.
“I am NOT coming over THERE.” I say gesturing towards his cock, still moving forward. I am at this point telling myself I am just going to give him a kiss and get back to my work.
“Over here.” And I am on my knees.
He is pulling down his pants. I am licking the tip of his cock. This must surely be my idea of being a tease, I think to myself. I have no intention of giving a blow job while kneeling on hardwood floor on my bare knees. Why, I was in no mood for having my mucosal lining rubbed off mere moments ago! What power has this man over me to make me walk to him and get on my knees almost without my conscious consent? But dare I get up now? Do I want to get up? Of course, if I got up I would not be two steps away before he’d gotten out the crop and landed at least a dozen blows and would probably not stop till I had crop marks indented into my ass and breasts, till I begged to suck him off, till he fucked my face thoroughly and then finish with a spanking that would draw blood. But of course I don’t want to get up, as enticing as that sounds. I am kneeling in front of Daddy in impromptu service. This casual demand and supply is the stuff fantasies (mines) are made of.
“You like sucking Daddy’s cock little girl?” He murmurs. I melt.
I run my tongue all over his cock, trying to get him slick with my spit and panicking because my mouth feels dry all of the sudden. I move my mouth on him, I suck, I lick, I moan.
“You want Daddy to fuck your mouth? That’s Daddy’s little cum slut.” And the fun really begins.
Half an hour later, my jaw and neck are sore, my lips and tongue tingle from friction, the skin of my face burns from having been slammed into him pubic hair my knees ache and then, he cums, practically breaking my neck in the process. Then he catches his breath and passes me his t-shirt to wipe the cum from my face and hair. After I am clean, he leans over me, planting little kisses here and there. And then just as I relax against him, he yanks my head to one side and bites me deeply on the side of the neck. If my blood satiated him, I’d offer it.
He then sends me off to finish my chores.
Such is (my) life!

Almost but no cigar

Monkey’s butt!
(Not the anatomical region… just an expression of mine, equivalent to damn, fuck or goddamnit.)
I am a bit tired and sore today. Why, you ask?
Today, being the last weekend of Jan, we officially took all xmas decoration down. I know it sounds like too long a time to leave decorations up. This has been our second winter in this house and the first winter we decorated seriously (inside and out) so I wasn’t sure what the neighbourhood etiquette was. Seemingly, there really isn’t one. Some still have their stuff up AND lit. But a good number of people took their lights down this past week and so it seems end of Jan is as good a time as any. Of course, I didn’t take the tree down till this weekend either. If it had been a natural tree I would have had to get rid of it a couple of weeks ago (although now that I think of it, I never really noticed anyone throwing out their trees in the neighbourhood). But anywho, I took everything down and cleaned under it and rearranged the house so it doesn’t look too empty with the tree gone. There is more cleaning to be done tomorrow. Bleh. I think next year, I’ll put the tree and lights up 2 weeks before the 25^th and take the tree down two weeks after new year and leave the lights till end of Jan. My mom usually packs her things up either before the 1^st or shortly after but she is OCD like that. Really after taking all that time to decide on a decorative theme and putting it all up, it seems like a waste to take it down a week later. And it was made all the more special by Luke’s special brand of ADD. You see, when I set out to clean, I make a mental list of the tasks and do them according to priority as well as the principle or “there is a time and a place for everything”. (Yes I am also a bit OCD) Luke does chores based on what seems the most interesting. So a lot of things either go undone or half done because the timing is all wrong. Minor little stupid things get done and major stuff (read mundane and daily but necessary) do not. THIS aggravates me to no end. I want to shake him. I tell you he can’t even follow my simple directions. He becomes a child! More hindrance than help! How he manages a professional life with no sense of organization or priority is beyond me.
That was today. The highlight (aside from a clean house) is that I did not murder my significant other.
Yesterday was even more special.
The day was pretty eventless. In the afternoon we finally sat down to just veg on the couch and watch some Reba. (Nothing funnier than watching a southern guy point out another southern person’s accent. Him: Oh look she said filling instead of feeling, Me: ya kidding me ya big oaf, not only do you say the exact thing, I couldn’t understand you for the first month we dated!) So we usually sit on the opposite ends of our big couch and leave the middle space to extend our legs and share a blanket. It’s one of those long term relationship things. When you’ve been together for a while (7ish years in our case) comfort begins to reign supreme and sitting like that instead of piling up on each other is much more comfy for the both of us. You know close enough to touch but not too close to be annoying and in each other’s business. He does his thing on his end and I am usually doing something on the laptop on my end. Sometimes we hold hands like teenagers. *I* think it’s cute. Holding hands is such a chaste thing to do. It’s different when you are outside although I much prefer holding his arm than his hand. He always insists on holding hand in long car rides which I find in turn cute and annoying. But while at home, sitting on our own couch on which he has fucked my mouth, cunt AND ass… the act of holding hands becomes a bit of a layered surprise. It’s like we’ve gone far enough in our sex lives to circle around back to holding hands. Of course we haven’t but still.
And the thought just occurred to me, when he was 18 I was 12 so we wouldn’t have been holding hands had we known each other then. I would have probably been crushing on him and he’d have completely ignored me. Aw can you imagine?
Anyhow, back to my original story line. For some reason or other, I decided to crash on him while we watched tv. I plumped him up and positioned him until he was comfy (so much so that when I got up to pee he wouldn’t move as to not mess up the comfy position! Ain’t he cute?) As the night progressed, he began stroking my back and then inched his hand lower and lower to my butt and of course that has a way of turning both of us on. It’s like one of those emergency off buttons on treadmills except the opposite. Even when I am not in the mood, it turns me on. It’s an automatic turn on. Anyhow, he was stroking my butt and then comes in inevitable, husky (his voice drops a whole octave when he is horny), “pull down your panties and get over my lap.” Long story short, I got spanked with the handy dandy ruler (our living room pervertible), then his hand. It truly is uncanny how long after the fact can ruler strokes sting. He pulled my panties up so I thought that was it and he was satisfied but 5 minutes later he got up and had me follow him to the bedroom when, once again, I was over his lap and contending with the paddle. He finally rolled me over and as always checked my cunt for wetness. He takes a smug sadistic pleasure in how I enjoy the pain he inflicts. Anyhow, that lead to finger fucking and in a minute or so he had 4 fingers in me so being the silly girl that I am (and because he had been talking about it) I suggested we go for the whole fist. We got the lube and everything was going fine for a while.
You sense the but coming?
All of the sudden the fingering alone wasn’t enough. I was stimulating my clit but for some reason, my pussy was just not willing to stretch enough to take the fist. It refused flatly. No amount of lube would pacify it. The pain was there. The pleasure wasn’t. WTH I thought. Common I though. But no. *sigh* I used to be able to take his fist and enjoy the whole thing, even the pain. I guess it was a hormonal episode brought on by the endometriosis. The tissues were just not engorged and stretchy enough. I don’t know. I tried to find reasons for it like I wasn’t horny to begin with… but I kept thinking what if it’s cause I am too old? As in from now on I need this set amount of foreplay before sex is enjoyable for me. Depressing stuff. The night ended with me thinking I would be happy never having sex again. I don’t know if I have changed my mind since.
Anyhow, amidst my brooding, I got to thinking about another “now and then” situation.
When I was pretty new to the bdsm scene, being faced with a spanking was a sort of anticipatory ecstasy on its own. My skin felt charged and tingled all over. My clit jumped and pulsed, my pussy lips felt engorged and swollen and I was wet in seconds. My breasts would feel heavy and my nipples would be hard. Just a look at a paddle or crop and I was half way into an orgasm practically. By the time the spanking started, I was already dizzy with adrenaline. The idea of pain that I, myself, had willingly invited upon my body and was submitting to without any real resistance was such new invasion of my humanity, my personal being, my body and my psyche that my mind spun wildly. On one hand I tried to grasp some point of reference to make sense of it all and on another, I wanted to observe every minute detail and the fascinating effects of it all on my body. I felt the pain and it took my breath away but I was in sub-space almost before the pain begun and so the experience was already a mingling of pain and pleasure.
Since then, as is oft the fashion with passage of time, things that once were remarkable become mundane and common place. So by now the threat of any old spanking will no longer initiate the cascade of hormones that creates that sense of bliss. And so, nowadays, when Luke tells me out of blue to pull down my panties and get over his lap, I don’t go into raptures of ecstasy immediately. As a matter of fact, in the “out of blue” situations when he is spanking me for his pleasure or stress relief or in any case without a “cause” or scene attached to it, the first thing crossing my mind is, “nah, I am comfy the way I am, maybe some other time.” Of course, that won’t get me out of a spanking… it usually makes the ensuing rain of smacks on my poor behind increase in either force quality or quantity. Once I (eventually) do haul myself over his lap, while the act of submission entailed in getting myself prepared and positioned for his pleasure does drop me into a submissive mindset that does tingle my erotic nerves, I am still not anywhere near the production of endorphin cocktail my brain used to swim in. Also, Luke knows my limits well and is not always interested in easing me into a scene. And in those wondrous occasions when he wants to see me writhe in pain and hear me yelp and scream, the pain message is quite crisp and it builds sharply to its pinnacle.
Experiencing the pain in its raw form and without the dampening effect of hormones is an interesting experience. It is amazing how quickly I find myself suspended at the edge of an imagined abyss that represents more pain. A dozen or so strokes of any implement and I am teetering at the edge, terrified of falling. I know I am submitting to the pain by choice so I scream hoping to expel some of it in sound waves. I move minimally, a feeble attempt at directing the blows to create a more tolerable effect. But all through it, I am aware of the very real fact of more pain to come. I grip whatever happens to be nearby as if holding on for dear life and while a panicked part of me prophesizes catastrophe (e.g. there is no way I can tolerate this pain), the rational part of me knows that in a few moments, the endorphin rush brought on by pain will catch up, making everything much more tolerable if not pleasant. And a third part of me watches in amazement as I get more and more aroused through it all. Really the fact that this still amazes me is amazing on its own!
Not being that wide eyed ingénue that thrilled at a hand spanking has its advantages. I have so much more wisdom, sexually and otherwise. But now, less than 4 weeks from my birthday, I know that I will miss my innocent 20s. Still, I am looking forward to this decade between “young” and “mature”.
I seriously don’t know how I’ll feel when my birthday does arrive. I know it’s just a number, etc. But I am starting to see why people wig out at the big round birthdays!

My personal mole hole

Oh blog, why have I abandoned thee?
 I’ve started writing one or two sentences down several times and then just pushed the computer away… why? Wells… I’ve been a bit too withdrawn into myself to share lately. I am trying to deal with bits of myself that involve my insecurities and irrational fears, things I don’t necessarily want to share “publically”… things I don’t even like talking to my loved ones about… as a matter of fact, these are things I don’t normally feel like facing myself. These are issues that I ignore because I am too afraid of what they say about me. Things that make me anxious, fearful, unsure, silly, invalid, moot.
And whenever I am in a mood like this, any sex drive I have gets dropped to the very bottom of my priority list so I don’t even have anything fun to talk about.
But, next week a lot of things are changing. I get the chance to actually do some things and I always feel better once I start the doing.
It’s always easier to write about difficult things once you’re through living them!

In a perverse leap to future, I’ve been looking at wedding dresses, wedding songs and wedding locations. Not that I am having a wedding anytime soon. The date we already know. The year we haven’t settled on. It depends on our finances and this and that.
Still these things take planning and they are kinda fun to plan too. I’d like something simple and vintage in the way of a dress… and either a beach wedding or a mountain top one. *I* really would like something small and sweet. Not too traditional but not entirely off the wall.
Of course, weddings aren’t just for you. It’s for your whole family. Everyone wants and expects something and you can’t have anyone unhappy on the happiest day of your life! Still, ignoring these things, it’s so fun to think about the fun aspects! You know I never dreamt about weddings when I was little. I really never gave it a thought and considered the whole thing silly until just recently when I actually began thinking that I am ready and willing to get married. Because I took this long to think about it, there is much I don’t know to even plan. I am learning a lot interestingly enough. And it’s scary how expensive things could be! But still so fun to go over all the options!

I promise, I’ll be more interesting next week. lol

Question of the day

“Does the paddle hurt?”
 It’s one of the search terms that landed people in my blog. It isn’t one of the oddest ones I’ve seen by any means but this particular one caught my attention because it just sounds… well so cute!
Let me explain.
When I saw it, I immediately imagined a fellow bdsm spanko ingénue sitting in front of their computer, typing this up. Maybe they’ve never had a spanking and have been fantasizing about one… or maybe they’ve been spanked but just lightly and are *just* venturing into something more serious… maybe their top has made promises of impending doom and they are shaking in their boots and dying of arousal. I didn’t imagine any particular gender or age mind you… just that particular mindset of the virginal. I remembered/imagined the sense of intrigue, the near obsession, the curiosity, all so rich in desire and heavy in yearning that they almost have a unique taste or texture, oddly satisfying and yet by innate nature lacking in sensory input which makes it all maddeningly lacking. Can you see it? (remember it?)… looking at pictures, videos… watching the expressions on the bottom’s face, the grimace, the yelp and moan… listening to the sound the wood makes on flesh. Watching the flesh flatten and bounce, see the bruises bloom… reading stories… wondering, “is it that bad?” or “is it worse than this?”.
Tee hee.
Well sweet innocent ones…
It HURTS.
It will overload your senses. It will set all your neurons firing at such rate that you will literally will get stuck between the fight and flight response. The pain will be sharp enough that you wonder why you ever wanted to be on the receiving end.
Then endorphins kick in.
Don’t get me wrong, it still hurts. But now it’s also niiiice. But still hurty.

THEN I started thinking about when I used to work on the hotline for teens to ask any questions they had about sex, etc and the creeps that used to call in and ask the same question over and over again just to hear someone talk about it. There was this one particular guy that kept calling with the same question. The older operators knew his voice and disconnected but anytime he got a new person, he’d trick them into answering his seemingly innocent question and as they were explaining, he would just start asking weirder and weirder questions geared to have you repeat certain terms like “vagina” or “penis” and by this point you could hear he was getting excited and probably jacking off.
*shudder*
For those of you… you know who you are… one word:
EW
EWWW
EEEEEW
EEEEEEWWW
At least you aren’t doing it to poor volunteers who take time out of their busy life to help teens have a safe space to learn about sex.

Now dinner and then sleep. Seriously. Tired.

My To Do list is your To Do list

I be in a funk. I am not sure what it is. That’s not true. I know part of it is because I have tons to do which is overwhelming and too little money to do it with. I don’t want to write about it because I’d feel icky reviewing it and I frankly feel a bit guilty nagging about it to y’all. But not guilty enough…
I need to…
We walk in through my front door
Get a new front door
Fix the hole in the wall from the old security system
Get new light fixtures – that goes for everywhere in the house
Paint the whole upstairs
Get new matching door handles for all upstairs doors
We’ve entered the living room
Get new curtains
Get a coffee table
Get entertainment center thingie
Find out if I can reface the fireplace
Also find out if I can do anything about the shelving around the fire place
Going towards the bedrooms
Do something about the countertop thingie in the guest bathroom
Fix the tub’s Jacuzzi thingie
Furnish the guest bedroom
Entering master bedroom
Add moulding to the bedroom
Get proper furniture that actually fits in that room
Remodel the bathroom
Going downstairs
A sunroof light thing for the stairs going down
Redo the stairs
Completely redo the downstairs bathroom… turn it into a nice little spa-like environment instead of the leaking weirdness it is now
Turn the “cold storage” which doesn’t work, insulated and into the dog’s room
Get all the work out equipment in the area the dog is now
Pull down the fake wall between library and office
Put down laminate flooring there
Proper furniture and such follows
Recarpet the game room
Lots of other redecorating things all over
Exiting the house
Must do something about landscaping over spring
Now onto my office
Decide whether or not I need to DO any remodelling or can it wait
Buy and arrange another million things that I can’t list here
Many many things
Very
Many
Also for work/school, I need to read and rearrange about a million articles and such
Oh and I feel fat and I don’t feel like this eating well/exercise thing

*inset sobbing noises*

Oh oh, I know!  let’s put this out in the universe and see if it gets done all “The Secret” style… yesssss I can see it now… finished redecorated house… so beautiful and elegant… and there I am, just home from my office… equally beautiful looking and smooth running… and look at me, I am hot and toned and a bit tanned and glowing with health… oh and look at that I am not broke… quite the opposite, I have money!

Take THAT universe.

Please?

The whiny, the needy, and me

I am getting better! Actually I am about 95% better which is great. I dislike being sick acutely. It’s so annoying, having a cold. It’s the paper cut of diseases. It’s bothersome enough that you have to pay attention to it but not nearly serious enough to warrant all the time it demands.
Anywho.
Today’s been a hard day.
Do you have one of those friends that you love dearly but drain the hell out of you? I have a friend that won’t take half a step to improve her life. She has all kinds of talent and potential but is so crippled by fear that she prefers to hide… in minor life matters, in imaginary issues… any excuse will do not to face life. I have tried to help and I have tried to ignore and neither has worked. I can’t help her because help implies some sort of personal action that is aided by another or maybe a boost to get started. There has to be some sort of personal will involved in the least. And if we go by the definition of help that’s “just being there” that’d be fine for a time. BUT I’ve known her for many years and she asks for help, she begs for help, she complains, she says how very horrible life is and it’s always about the same issue. How many times am I supposed to just “be there” before going insane. How am I supposed to watch someone I love make the same stupid mistake for years and just watch? Well I don’t know about other people but I can’t. Every time she asks I start helping but every single time it becomes too much and she gives up. If I try to push her to get through the rough patches she will get mad at me for being controlling. If I sit silently she falls back into inaction. If I coax gently she demands more and more attention, becomes needier until I can’t give any more. Like I’ve said, it’s a relationship of many years, it’s not so easy to just walk away from it but even when I’ve tried she has never let it go. She apologizes, makes promises and I think of all the good times and… well I am sure you all have recognized the co dependant relationship at this point. My choices are limited… stay and try and try to maintain a balance between help and objective observation that will keep me sane… or break up the friendship. The second choice might be the best option for both of us but it’s very hard for me. There is too much history there. We’ve been together longer than some people are married. And in breaking up a friendship, there is no nice pre-drawn outline of divorce. But it’s getting very exhausting. I’ve been burned so much that I try to keep some distance, maintain some personal space. And the more I do that, the more clingy she becomes. She demands to be in my personal space. She pushes until I get incredibly mad. And I can’t control my anger at her like I used to. I have so much pent up anger that when she gets into my personal space I flare up and breathe fire. Then she uses my anger to blame me. Never mind that my anger has been built up over what feels like eons. Never mind that I ALWAYS have a reason for being angry, I am not just yelling and jumping around for my amusement. Never mind that *I* get physically hurt being mad because all my pains and aches and issues are exacerbated. She will blame her next inaction on me. “I was going to do it but you got mad”. She will blame everything and anything on anyone she can blame it on. Excuses and bullshit. It makes me tired. I want to go and I want to stay and I feel stupid and inadequate both ways. Even this rant feels whiny and weak. I feel like I am not entitled to it. Bleh.
Moving to something less aggravating.
I live in the ‘burbs but about 10 minutes from where I live is the city with all its hustle and bustle… and that comes with a lot of homeless people. There are certain intersections that I pass where the very same people always stand and beg. The homeless give me mixed feelings. On one hand I can’t imagine having been reduced to that life. I feel bad for them. I feel compassion for a pain and discomfort I can only imagine. On the other hand I feel annoyed that they are so in your face with the said misery. Toronto has a great system of aid in place for street people. So why are the same people still there, day after day, month after month, begging. I want them to stop asking me for money. I don’t want to look the other way but I also can’t look them in the face and say no without feeling like a jerk. I hate the position I am being put in. My emotions are my own and not their doing. But I don’t like their action as the catalyst. And I am suspicious. Why are you in the street? I know a lot of people on the street struggle with mental illness and addiction. I also know many are victim of bad luck. Many are runaway kids from horrible situations. But then there are some healthy young people who could be working. They could be taking advantage of the many programs to get started. When they ask for money are they using it for necessities or drugs and alcohol? So I decided long ago that I wasn’t going to give money to the homeless directly. When I donate I do it to the many organizations helping the homeless instead. To the homeless, I give food. They all have signs that say “hungry, please help”. Well food helps and it can’t be used as easily to get alcohol or drugs. Of course, I know that’s silly. By giving food I am allowing them save their money to spend on drugs or alcohol if that is indeed their thing. But if it’s not which it may very well not be… it’s a direct form of help. SO I have little care packages in my car. Dry cracker type things like cheeze-it, cans with pull tops like chef boyardee or Vienna sausages. Also a can or two of dog food cause a lot of them have dogs.
Today I stopped at the red light and saw a little kid at the corner. I found the care pack and called her over and asked if food was ok. She said yes so I passed it out. She smiled and put it next to her backpack and other things on the floor. Just then I noticed the dog lying next to her things. She had covered him with a coat and a blanket. I passed out some dog food too. She was too young. She looked less than 18. She was innocent looking. It was ridiculous. I felt ridiculous in my warm car. I wanted to take her home. I felt shy at my small offering. I felt good hoping that I had helped a little. I felt bad that it was so little. I hoped she wasn’t into drugs or alcohol. I hoped whatever she had run away from hadn’t scared her too badly. I hoped she’d get help. How can you look into the eyes of a street child and not feel the urge to help somehow? I am going to keep an eye out for her. If she is around I think I’ll pick her up some fresh veggies and milk since she is at the stop right next to a couple of stores. *sigh*
I came home and I took the dog out for a run. It was nice. He is almost a year and a half and he’s been trying and trying to lift his leg to pee. He finally did it tonight. And when we ran, he only got carried away a couple of seconds and got ahead of me and as soon as I signalled he fell behind me immediately even though he can run a billion times faster than I can. That’s part of the good of cats and dogs. You come home and they let you just love them and that makes us feel needed and important and good.
I am too tired. It’s time for bed.
Night y’all.

Pass the tissue

SICK AGAIN.
ok something is rotten in the state of Chloe.
In the last 3/4 months I’ve either been sick or almost sick the week before my period. Immune system is more shot than usual. Actions need to be taken. With the increased pains I’ve been having, it’s important to take these things seriously.
Anyway, as I said before it’s time to get back to eating well and regular exercise which I will do as soon as I have energy enough to cook and get on an elliptical.
So while you would think being sick makes posting on your blog easier… it does not. I am cranky and miserable and just want to sit in front of TV and have tomato soup and grilled cheese and juice. I started writing something I wanted to talk about but it just turned out blah and I got bored and gave up.
So that’s what I’ve been doing and will be doing probably for a couple more days.
*grumble*

First things first

Boo and Hoo
I’ve been in pain lately. Over the past few months some pains I’ve had have worsened and that worries me some. This past week has been the worst. I know part of that is that because of everyone’s various vacation times, we aren’t entirely out of holiday mode and are still eating badly. That would account for frequency of pain. The other part of it, the part that should explain the intensity, remains unexplained. I already had an ultrasound a couple of months ago that showed nothing wrong. Of course, the technician was a complete idiot. I’ve had a billion ultrasounds and this was the shortest, least explorative ever. I also had a colonoscopy recently that like all before it revealed the gradually less surprising benign growths. So save for another ultrasounds, really the only option about figuring out the “whys” is exploratory surgery. Kinda hard to get on board that one just for pain. And I wouldn’t just for pain. A crop stroke hurts much worse. Of course, it’s not there day and night wearing you down. BUT I still wouldn’t be concerned just because I had some pain. What I *am* concerned about is what is causing the pain. Is it new scar tissue forming because of the bleeding? Is it something else? It’s the unknown that bugs me.
In less than a week though normal life will resume and I can finally get some stuff done and get ready for my 30^th birthday in less than 2 months. (&%$#!!!!) Hopefully some semblance of routine will help to calm down my nerves which have been jangling on an ever increasing intensity.

 Soooo in order to cheer myself up… I am going to go down the memory lane. It shall be amusing. And really, what is more comical and silly and nostalgic than everyone’s first time doing anything? Here’s a list of my firsts I could think of.

 My first kiss was superb. He was the boy next door, literally. He came up with some excuse to come over and we stood around my room very awkwardly until it was time for him to leave at which point I guess he finally screwed up the courage to come over and kiss me. I remember the rush of butterflies as he took those last couple of steps towards me and the “wooosh” of emotions and roaring blood. It was sweet and awkward and amazing. I was so pumped from it all that afterwards I went to my piano and played for an hour straight. And I never was that good! *laughing* I remember he had brought over some chapstick… and the awkward banter. I like that memory. It’s sweet. *s*

The first time I got finger fucked… not really memorable. The very first time which took a grand total of 15 seconds was pointless because I just wasn’t turned on and I was dry and I was young enough that I wasn’t even too sure what he was going for. The second time, (which I think should be mentioned since the first time was so brief and confusing!), was within the first actual relationship I was in and she (Lee) MAJORLY sucked at sex. *laughing* Like she was so incredibly bad at everything that two women might do with each other that after a couple of months of being with eat other I was still not sure we were actually having any kind of sex. The 3^rd person who got there was the first to actually finger fuck me in any satisfactory fashion. She was I think about 8 or 10 years older than me and very butch. Great fuck, not much personality. Let’s call her Nik.

First time I tried nipple torture was with Nik as well … she was really into it. She was actually the first person I dated who was into S/M in any serious way. Not as much as me still but a good match for me at that point since I was taking baby steps and tracing out my desires.  I was turned on by how turned on she was but really the person who made me grow neuron pathways between my nipples and cunt was Luke. Before him, I’d get chapped nipples and the high of pain but none of the “pinch my nipple and my clit will scream in sympathy” thing that Luke can manage.

The first time I got fucked (penetration in pussy with dildo/cock)… it was disappointing. This was with Lee and as I was JUST starting to enjoy it she stopped. I don’t think she could relate to the dil and on top of that didn’t know what really to do and didn’t even want to give it a try… yea we just weren’t a sexual match. She was a snail to my bunny.

The first time I got fucked in the ass… was honestly painful but not so bad that I didn’t see the potential. I had the same issues with it that most others describe. Aside from pain I wondered what if it made a mess and how yucky that would be but really there are a couple of choices there. Either you do a thorough enema before every single time you do it (which isn’t the healthiest thing ever) OR you put on a condom and some play sheets and deal with a bit of mess here and there. I mean, if you play with fire, you are gonna get burned sooner or later. AND you gotta know, your rectum is pretty clean most of the time. This is also one of those things that I liked before but I really started wanting it with Luke. Oh and as far as butt plugs go… I’ve always found them hot. Which brings up the next 2 firsts:

First time I got figged… was odd. It wasn’t a sensation I expected. I think we soaked the ginger too long though because somewhere we had read that you are supposed to soak it. I am not even sure where anymore. There was some burning but more than that it gave me a sort of “urging” sensation which isn’t what I was going for. But once more I saw the potential. The burning of freshly carved ginger is amazing. It’s a welcome sensation change from compact pain (because I won’t play with icy/hot or any other chemical heavy things on mucus membranes other options being natural cinnamon oil, peppermint oil, wintergreen oil, etc) and I like it more than other tingly things because it can be carved into a fun plug! I also love it on my clit. The burning is exquisite. Now I sometimes do it just for myself when I masturbate.

First time I was double penetrated… wasssss not with two different people. I think the very first time was getting fucked with a plug in my ass. If I am properly wet that is beyond good. We have a pretty large plug and getting fucked with it in place makes the experience so much more intense. I feel more “possessed”. Having a plug in, being gagged with Luke’s leather gag that has a mini-phallus AND getting fucked is even better. Just the sensation of being filled everywhere is… ooooh. With two people it’s a more tricky affair. I am still chasing that particular high if Luke comes around to it. Oh and if you have someone who knows what the hell they are doing, getting fingered in your ass and cunt together… so you are getting the same stroke rhythm… DIVINE! What I want to try next (aside from another guy to play with along with Luke) is maybe getting fucked with a harness so Luke can fuck me in both holes… yuh yuh…

The first time I got fisted… was a surprise. It was with Luke. The concept was too scary to me before that to try with anyone I didn’t fully trust. We hadn’t really started out saying that’s what we were doing. We were just having some great anniversary sex. He was 3 or 4 finger inside me and pounding and then he just tried another finger, and more lube and aside from a few moments when I felt I was being torn apart (pressure not pain), he was in! And then he curled his fingers into a fist (just sticking your hand in there doesn’t count you know, you actually have to make a fist for it to be fisting) and began fucking me and the sensation was… overwhelming. I remember reaching down and feeling his wrist buried in me. NOTHING makes you feel more thoroughly fucked than getting fisted. It’s like a piston moving inside you. The force is unimaginable. Gooood stuff.

The first time someone ate my pussy… was … nice? Certainly not terribly exciting. I’ve never been much for it. I’ve had lovers since that are pretty good at it but when all’s said and down… I’d still prefer getting fingered or fucked. A tongue is just… nice but not enough.

The first time I gave head… confusing and a little icky. But I think that’s true for most people. I mean first time you don’t know what is it you are really doing and here you are in this relatively awkward position. The tastes seemed odd and hygiene is SO important. I mean if you’ve been with someone for long like me and Luke, it actually adds to my pleasure to suck him off with the taste of sweat and piss on him. Someone I’ve know for 6 months… not so much. Wash people. Of course, I am sure you’ve noticed that now my attitude is more in the line of… oh for the love of all that is holy… fuck MY MOUTH.

First time I got spanked… was kinda awkward. She wasn’t really into it. A few swats that barely hurt. It took a few people until I got a decent spanking like I wanted. That first spanking was… surprising. I had always been turned on by the thought of a spanking but when it came to the real hard spanking all I could register through it was pain. It HURT. That’s all. It hurt. I felt a bit ridiculous with all 5’7” of me draped over a lap with my ass in the air. I did feel some of that desired childlike feeling. I didn’t really drop into the sub-space that both the mentality and the pain of a good spanking make me feel nowadays. (I was too busy analyzing it) But then it was over and I felt how very wet I was and how incredibly horny… Even now even a punishment spanking will get me wet. I still squirm when Luke calls me for a spanking and when the actual spanking/whipping is going on, all I can sense is the pain, but the bliss afterwards… well… may I have another sir?

First time I tried bondage…was fun but we did it WRONG. I was young and stupid and I didn’t even have the decency to start with something soft. It was a pain of metal cuffs that locked my hands together behind my back but THEN I essentially lied on top of my cuffed wrists through the sex part so when it was over, I had a tinsy bit of nerve damage… namely I had funny pins and needle feeling for a month. Thank god it passed. Bondage remains one of those things I am iffy about. Bondage, like I’ve said before, is choice being taken away. Complete transfer of control. You don’t even have the assurance in the back of your mind that you could get away if need be. There is nothing. You are there… at the top’s mercy… and that can still be scary for me. And like all things scary… it’s so exhilarating.

First time I got pissed on…was better than the second time cause by the second time I had had time to actually think about what I had done and ick myself out some. The second time I actually gagged a bit after the piss hit my tongue. Of course, I know myself enough to know it was a product of my own over thinking and I got over it very fast. The most fun thing about it for me is how enthralled and repulsed Luke is with the whole thing. He loves doing it but he is icked out at the idea of it and he can’t reconcile the two.

That’s enough firsts! This is making me feel ancient! Of course, I am a much better lay now so that counts for something! And there are a couple of firsts I still have on my todo list…. Oh and if you are wondering why I haven’t mentioned losing my “virginity”. Well… aside from the sectional virginity involved in all of the above… I lost my hymen to a ladder I was climbing up and down for play before I was even a teen. I fell down and a wrung hit me between the legs just so and bust went the hymen. I remember the blood then but I didn’t know I didn’t have a hymen until I just had deeper and deeper sex and no blood…
Luke would love me to have a hymen reconstruction so he can take my virginity but seriously paying a few grands for fake virginity AND going through the discomfort of the procedure… *laughing* not happening. I get it for women who need to do it for cultural reasons… but for kink sake… nah!

 And the best thing about your first time? It only happens once!

Stuff fantasies are made of – Part 3

You know what I am thinking? I am thinking: OK this was supposed to be one measly little post. How the heck did it blow up to a 3 part series?! “Concise” I ain’t.
Pardon the grump-puss routine.
We got some bad news today. Well I got some alarming sounding news after I woke up and before I was half way into the phone convo trying to assess the damage (which was really minimal), I got hit with the second actual bad news. All this before I was fully awake. I knew I should have stayed in bed today.
Monkey’s ass I say.
*sigh*
Oh well. What is one to do? Stuff happens. You gotta work around it. I don’t WANT to work around it. But I don’t really have a choice do I? No I don’t. I’ll figure it out. It could be worse.
BUT, it’s the weekend and I won’t face or deal with reality until Monday.
Now back to our normally scheduled programming…

 Luke is the star of most of my fantasies. (Some say unimaginatively so but *I* prefer thinking that I am infatuated!) I tell ya, this makes it hard to masturbate when I’m mad at him. I am serious! Call me crazy but when I am mad at him I don’t want to imagine him pulling my hair, tanning my hide and fucking my ass. *laughing* Yes I know how ridiculous that sounds.
I do imagine other “figures” when I fantasize but these characters are usually faceless and vague… you know, place holders. The only “celebrity” I’ve ever masturbated to is K.D. Lang. I’ve always wondered if she ever sings between her lover’s thighs. *drool*
Anyhow.
If I fall in love with a new fantasy I write it down erotica style and send it to Luke. I usually have 2 or 3 stories in progress going. I am pretty decent at short stories but longer stories require more attention than I am always willing to give… so I just write sections and string them together later. I write non-erotica too but not nearly as much.
Speaking of erotica, I love me some Patrick Califia. I wish he’d write more. He writes amazing erotica. Have you read his stuff? Queer bdsm erotica at it’s very best. Go read one of his books. As a matter of fact go buy one.
But I digress (I see you rolling your eyes!) Most of the time Luke just reads them as entertainment but once in a while, he decides to act on one. Of course he always changes them to suit his own taste which I actually like because while it has elements of my fantasy, I don’t quite know what will happen next. When we both get off on something, it’s just amazing.
BUT the thing about not dating your clone is that regardless of how similar minded you are about sex, you still don’t have an identical fantasy profile. So there has to be compromises. Of course, in a d/s relationship the scales tend to tip towards the top.
For example, I like playing with knives but I don’t necessarily get off on cutting my own damn self. He has to do it to me for it to be hot. He, however, doesn’t like it nearly as much as I do. I’ve already talked about how he feels about threesomes or group sex which is another one of my big turn ons.
And then comes the part about equipment. Sometimes, you just HAVE to have the right equipment. For example, I’d spontaneously orgasm from the mere idea of being locked in a cage and fucked through the bars. I tell you after we put together the big dog crate for our Dane, I was wet for a week. But we don’t have a human cage or really any space for one. Or complete sensory depravation… a decent blindfold and earphones with relatively loud music works pretty well but not as well as a decent hood designed for the job. But that’s way too expensive. Same goes for a good corset. I am not talking about the mass designed junk but a custom made one. Actually I think of being corseted as a cross between bondage and sensory deprivation.
The thing about sensory deprivation and bondage, although they are a heck of a lot less dramatic than being flogged or cut or set on fire… is that they have a deeper degree of mental submission. By that I mean, when I am enduring pain, I have something to do. I am in there, fighting and submitting to the pain. I am patting myself on the back for taking it with grace… or feeling giddy at how he’s reduced me to a puddle. But in sensory deprivation or prolonged bondage, I am not “doing” anything. Even if he is whipping me under bondage, I am not doing as much since I am pretty much stuck there at his mercy, All there is to know is he wants me this way and let what emotions may come wash over me.
It’s so very much more difficult than just submitting to pain. This is much more threatening to one’s identity. You have to, well, willingly give up personal metal/emotional space. Watch yourself become property, utterly controlled. That’s a hell of a lot more difficult and takes a much deeper brand of submission. (only in my opinion) And it’s not something one can do with any old top because it takes much more intricate set up and build up. (once more, I am just speaking for me) And even after I found the right top… it’s not something we can do every day. I come out of a mental submission session much more drained than any other scene, regardless of severity. But this is the domain of MY deep dark fantasies so I am not saying no more. A girl’s gotta have some secrets!
Now in interest of diversity, here are a few of Luke’s favourite fantasies:
-Being sucked off while he is working out – specifically for me to just show up mid workout and service him without a word – can you say narcissistic? *g
-Fucking and torturing me in front of and for an audience – what did I tell ya about the narcissism?
-Me in a wonder woman custom – (I don’t get this one, it’s apparently a guy thing… I can’t imagine wonder woman as a submissive anyway)
-Fisting, always with the fisting… if it’s not golden showers, it’s fisting… I might start needing bigger Kegel weights to keep tight… that or if I ever give birth, it’ll go very smoothly (just kidding, even I am not that delusional)
And finally, I’d like to share the single oddest fantasy I have heard of within consensual kink:
-Fantasy of being devoured… as in eaten… like… as in food. Also known as Vorarephilia.
It produces a problem for me… namely you aren’t around to enjoy it happening caused you’ve been… well slaughtered and stewed. Unless someone cuts off only a piece… but then you probably are in a bit much of physical agony to appreciate it… or maybe not…? Anyway. This would be the point my kink fuse would blow. Yes, I realize I am being a bit literal! That it could very well involve just the role playing for many and I don’t mean those cases… I mean the few cases who literally want to be dinner… you think the fantasy extends to how they are prepared? Like is there a, ooooh marinate me in a wine sauce type thing? And we in the kink community like to say we respect everyone’s kink. To each their own, right? Hard to be as understanding here though… even though nobody is getting hurt unwillingly.
But you gotta keep in mind… there are all shades of rainbow out there.

***Thank you for your attention. This ends this section of ramblings on the subject of fantasies. Please stay tuned for future silly-erotic compositions. Dirty Ingenue out***

Stuff fantasies are made of – Part 2

***Thank you for tuning in to the second part of our series on fantasies. Enjoy!***

 Here’s something that I wish someone would have told me… you know maybe something that should be included in the “sex talk” because once you start going after your fantasies, you will learn (1) that living some fantasies are every bit as rewarding as you imagined BUT (2) some fantasies are NOwhere near exciting as you thought they’d be. As a matter of fact they turn out the opposite of arousing. And the sense of disappointment that comes after a failed fantasy is… well like having for the longest time imagined you would get a laptop for xmas but end up with tube socks.
For example, here are a couple of fantasies that sounded good in my head but turned out bleh.
-Sex in a club bathroom sounded nasty in a hot way but it turned out to be nasty in the… icky disgusting, must-shower-now way… so much so that I could not concentrate on the sex part. *shudder*
-Outdoor sex sounded exciting with the whole it’d be hot if someone discovered us (or as I like to call it passive aggressive exhibitionism)… it turned out uncomfy with twigs and pine needles stuck everywhere. Also bugs… I should have known about that one though cause I hate camping. Of course, in this particular case my dislike doesn’t count for much cause Luke really enjoyed it. I must admit though, he once paddled me at one of those “scenic view” perches in a park at night and that was exciting. I got wet enough from that not to notice the hard cold rock under my ass as he fucked me. So my suspicion is, some people who remember fondly certain sexual experiences that sound icky, might have been too turned on to note said icky conditions.
-I’ve already mentioned the climax-depravation that sounded wonderful but turned out pointless.
-A bevy of stuff I had read or heard about that sounded good but turned out to be over complicated and annoying (to me)
I guess the thing is to really know yourself and your kink. If you are not into dirt, think twice about fantasy sex that’ll get you dirty. Don’t get sucked into someone else’s fantasy. No matter how exciting they (and by they I mean friends, books, porn, your current partner etc) make it sound, it’s your genitals about to be exposed to this experience so take a moment to self examine. But despite what I am saying here kinda, don’t be afraid to experiment. Yes, the fantasy might suck majorly in reality but at least you’ll know what doesn’t work! And how else are you gonna accumulate funny sex stories?!
And the bonus of bravely trying out your kinks is experiencing fantasies that will lead to purely amazing, mind blowing experiences. I’ve had a bunch that become absolute favourites to revisit often. Some of the more elaborate ones that can’t be repeated as easily go back on my fantasy list as more “masturbatory aid” except now I have actual sensory memory of the events.
Among really fun fantasies are role playing ones. They can be so very fun. You are essentially using the same set of “toys” you have, you are just allowing your imagination to give them new color. It’s mental kink. It’s like your brain is wearing latex or a Victorian corset. It’s playing house and doctor and cops/robbers but this time all the little pseudo-sexual things you used to do have evolved to actual sex! What could be better? Of course, I assume you have to have a bit of a child inside you and willingness to play without being too self conscious.
Some of my favourite kinky role plays are,
- Little teenage runaway that’s picked up by not so kindly stranger. That little experience involved getting fingered and giving a blow job in the car in full view of anyone in a car of same height or higher.
-The cowboy from old wild west and the hooker… lots of rough sex, occasional rope bondage
-The new prisoner that gets fucked by other inmate/s or a warden – self explanatory
-The home invader/s who find a girl alone in the house and take advantage (a variation is being car napped or really any variation of rape scenes at gun/knife point with various bondage scenes)
-Student and teacher/boss and employee/etc
Of course attitude is very important. You have to be able to really get inside (and comfy) the character you want to be and you have to be lucky enough that your partner makes a good convincing opposite. Think back to when you were kids and how absorbed you got into whatever role you were playing. Props are not necessary but certainly helpful (and fun!).
Wait that’s not always true. Some people’s kink is the dress up in which case the props are very necessary!
Oh one more thing about role playing. Some people think that role playing falls outside “real bdsm”. Once you put “real” in front of anything, of course, you’ve entered elitist land and it’s hard to use logic there. But the best “argument” I’ve heard in this regard is within role playing, you are kinda cloaked by the characters you are playing which in turn means part of your self is shielded. For example, if you are doing a degradation scene, the bottom’s character and not his/her true self is getting humiliated which might make is easier to bear. That might be but I am guessing if a submissive needs to check out they will even if they aren’t in a “role”. Other than that, the crop hurts just as bad, a ginger plug burns just as hotly and being called a cheap dirty whore and a cum slut… well turns me on just as much anyway no matter “who” I am being.

 So one thing I’ve noted over the hormonal roller coaster I’ve had to endure, especially while I was going through the “treatment” section of my illness was that while most of the time the complete lack of sexual desire lead to no inclination towards fantasizing… sometimes my fantasies and imagination did break through the hormonal gloom. So even when I didn’t have too much (read none) desire for sex with anyone else, my body kept kick starting the engine in intervals to keep it lubricated. (Pun pun puuuun!)
I’ve also noticed that as I age, I have less varied fantasies. I am sure that is a split cause between the natural rigidity that comes with aging (you know getting all set in my ways) and the natural process of discretion that comes with becoming “experienced” in a field. My fantasies these days are a combination of old favourites, any new “threat” Luke comes up with or anything new I dream up but most often it’s a mix of old favourite elements and new situations. Like the newest thing we’ve been both fantasizing about (the kinks have not been worked out yet – hey more pun!) is for Luke to chain me up in the bathroom all day and piss on me every time he needs to and use my mouth to clean up and for blow jobs whenever he wants one. Getting pissed on and mouth fucked… old favourites, the daylong bondage in bathroom, however, is new. This one actually is Luke’s fantasy. *I* had been fantasizing about something similar for a long time. My fantasy involved him chaining me to his desk and using me throughout the day as he pleases. However since his office is a colossal mess, it’s not terribly doable. Water sports are a favourite of Luke’s so the fantasy isn’t much of a surprise to me. I think it might be one of his biggest turn ons. From my end, I’d be lying if I swore to love the taste and smell of his pee but the degradation and his excitement makes me dizzy with lust so I’d also be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on. I already wrote a lengthy post on how much I like blowing him. Extensive bondage is something we’ve never done though. To begin with, we both have too much to do but that obviously isn’t it because we make time for other things we love. Then there is the fact that bondage is not a big thing with Luke. He likes it but it doesn’t drive him wild. The bigger issue is that I don’t really have a grip on how I might feel about prolonged bondage. This is one of those fantasies that sound incredibly hot but might not produce the desired effect in action. The specific appeal, like all acts of submission, is in giving up my choice, power and control. However, the mode in which it’s done might turn out to cause more negative emotions than positive. I realize in absolute submission my preference wouldn’t count but I am not a slave, just a girl with submissive tendencies so my preference does very much count! Plus if the conclusion of some act is me being pissed off, nobody walks away happy and that’s just not fun! What do I think might cause issues? I’d get bored out of my mind which would lead to impatience and then anger unless there is frequent attention given to me. On a good submissive day I could use these feelings to fall into a mental sub-space but it’s a fine balance. So we are probably going to start with an afternoon of this and probably figure out things I might do instead of sitting and staring at the wall. That way we’d give the idea a test drive and work the kinks out for longer sessions.
Another possible issue I can detect… will he still find the whole thing a turn on after I smell like a public urinal?
I’ll let y’all know!

 ***Thank you for your attention. This ends this section of ramblings on the subject of fantasies. Please stay tuned for the 3^rd and hopefully last section of this fascinating subject.
Dirty Ingenue, we write as if you care!***