October is over in ~20 hours.  I went to bed at 7 last night and Calli woke up at 2.  Festive.  It’s going to be an interesting night tonight.  I’m meeting my TA (torrid affair) tonight at a sex party in San Francisco.  Plan A is for him to fuck me without saying a word.  I’m nervous.  I really wanted NRE (new relationship energy) and it’s happening fast. I spent all day yesterday talking to him.  Mostly we are talking about sex, let’s be clear.  I’ve been looking at his profile pictures a lot because I’m trying to get a sense of what he is going to feel like in person.

I’m being pursued.  And I’m pursuing. I haven’t had this… since … Daddy?  I think that was the last time I was really pursued.  Puppy and Spot were both guys I pushed.  Neither of them really wanted me in the same way.  I started dating Daddy on October 1st 2004.  It’s been a while.  Of course I’ve had Noah for most of this time, but it’s different feeling.  I’m really glad I have Noah.

He asked me what kind of D/s I like the most and I soaked the chair.  I told him that I probably want something that feels kind of Daddy/little girl but I’m not interested in the direct incest play right now.  I want to be coaxed into doing all these hot, dirty things I want to do anyway.  I really want to be taunted with how very very very very much I want to fuck him.  I really want to be taught how to properly suck his cock.  Preferences vary and I want to figure his out.  He really likes pushing girls around until they stimulate him properly.  I can’t wait.

He has no interest in hitting or choking me.  I feel this odd mix of relief and disappointment.  I feel nervous and timid.  Will I be interesting enough if I’m not putting up with that kind of play?  Will he be impressed enough for a torrid affair or will he fuck me once and leave and that’s that?  Butterflies.  Scared.

Either way will be ok.  Truly.  I’m enjoying my last morning of not writing the book.  If he decides to bail I have queries out to friends to spend some time together this month.  We’ll see how that goes.  November is ridiculously scheduled.  It’s ridiculously scheduled so that I get to do things like go out on Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday of this week so that I can have some fun.  I miss fun.

I really miss getting to know new people.  It’s so exciting.  He’s a music teacher.  I can talk shop with him.  That will be really fun.  It’s going to be thrilling to fuck a teacher.  After the sex party tonight (which I am technically going to as Noah’s date) I have a date with TA tomorrow.  We are going to Occupy Oakland together.  He wants me to make sure that my inner most layer is extremely slutty and will make him want to fuck me.  I think I can work with this.

Instructions.  He said that he likes to control speech.  He likes to only let people say ‘yes’ or ‘no’.  I think that’s hot.  I think that’s hot because he is interested in reading my journal.  So he wants to get to know me and control how and what I say at the same time?  That means he will let me speak when it matters.  Which means it’s a pretty safe bet to trust him this way.  I miss those kinds of rules.

M/s rules I miss and don’t talk about: I miss having to ask permission to sit on furniture.  I liked sitting on the floor at my Owners feet.  He gave me a pillow to sit on because he was magnanimous.  I miss having to wait for permission before I began eating.  I miss being slapped in the face with a hard cock.  It’s not really Noah’s thing.  It doesn’t hurt.  But it’s hot and dirty and slutty and fun.

He says he doesn’t orgasm during sex much.  That’s an old hangup.  But he likes coming on people.  That’s going to be new.  I’m… timid.  I don’t know what that will feel like right now.  I know it was hard with Tom.  (Tom didn’t come *on* me much.  He just didn’t orgasm with me in almost any capacity.)

I don’t want to stop thinking about him.  I have a month.  I don’t actually want to record every idiotic emotional surge so this may be mostly the last I write about him.  Unless he tells me to.  We’ll see.

Letters to my Daughters.  I’m trying not to really get started today.  I want to.  But I want to be mostly true to NaNoWriMo. 🙂  I’m thinking about it.  But that’s ok.

I actually went off and wrote about something else for an hour there.  But I stopped and came back because I had an irresistible urge to look at pictures of my TA again.  (that sounds like teachers assistant and creeps me out)  He has distinctive hair I’m not allowed to describe online. I just noticed randomly that he is “less aggressive” than the guy I met at Mission Control (with whom I did not have sex–just sayin’).  That’s probably a good thing.  That guy was uhh intense in weird ways.

This is a different kind of anticipation than I have had recently with the friends I have slept with.  With both of them, I knew mostly what to expect.  That’s good and bad.  It’s good because there is increased comfort and safety and it’s less scary.  It’s bad because I already decided they were not good on-going partners for me.  Mostly I stop sleeping with people when it starts to seem like it’s not a good idea anymore for a myriad of reasons.  Those reasons often don’t go away.  So the whole repeat partner thing is complicated.  Most of those reasons are basic compatibility things, not huge You Are A Bad Person things.

The thing is, I do kind of fall in love easily.  I love a lot of people with great fervor.  I don’t know what that is going to mean this month.  I still can’t have a boyfriend.  I need to be paying more attention to Calli than that as pissy as that makes me.  I get a month after four years of no new people.  My husband is a generous man.

You know how magazines sometimes have those weird fold out pages in the middle and it’s usually a big picture?  Like centerfolds.  I feel like this affair is one of those.  It’s this weird awkward fold out thing in the middle of my life.  It is only supposed to take up two sheets of paper but really it’s like six.  I hope that is how it turns out at least.  I hope that by the end of the month I will be very sad about the ending of my TA.  I hope I maintain a friendship with him.  I certainly have with Daddy.  That was a three month relationship.

Affair.  Just the word is tantalizing.  Affairs “don’t mean anything” only they do.  They mean that I am alive and full of energy.  They mean I am exciting.  They mean that someone caught a glimpse of me out of the corner of their eye and decided to look much more closely.  And liked what they saw.  Liked what he saw so much that he wants to touch me.  And kiss me.  And lick me.  And fuck me.  And teach me how to fuck him.

I really like the word fuck.  It’s one of my favorites.  Sex is generic.  Ok fine.  You had sex.  I don’t know if that means he climbed on top in the missionary position for three minutes or if you fucked for four hours straight and he came in every hole.  Kind of different.  The phrase making love is strangely growing on me.  I outright refused to use it when I was younger.  I was aware I wasn’t doing that.  I do with Noah.  It’s kind of neat how sometimes when he makes the shift to thinking about sex.  His eyes start glittering and his face goes soft.  I like it when he gently strokes my cheek before kissing me.  That’s making love.  He sees me and feels love and wants to touch me.  He is making his love for me manifest. It’s wonderful.

But I want my TA to fuck me six ways from Sunday.  Who knows, maybe the last time we have sex there will be some serious emotion present but I’m not going to count on or worry about that.  Tonight he is (hopefully) going to fuck me.  It will be emotionally messy in the sense that I’m already obsessed with him.  He knows to alternate calling me good girl.  He figured that out already.  He can taunt me about being such a dirty little whore and follow it up by telling me that I am good.  Dangerous.  Dangerous.  Dangerous.

I don’t know why I love the word whore so much.  Say it out loud a few times.  Whore.  Say it in an exhale of breath with very little force behind it.  Hiss it.  It’s gorgeous.  That’s an awesome word.  It’s almost as evocative as fuck.  Whore makes my cunt throb.  It reminds me that not only do I have a lot more sex than most people but I really really like it.  I want more.  I want more of this feeling.  Yes.  I’m a whore.  But only for the right people.

This uhm, isn’t one of my standard operation sex tactics.  It’s pretty rare to find someone who wants to play like this.  Someone who wants to talk about how much I am enjoying it in great detail while they fuck me.  Someone who wants to tell me explicitly how to move my tongue.  I win.  It’s not that I never take initiative during sex, far from it.  I’m not really a pillow princess.  But I only want to do things to people who really want me to do things to them.  And I don’t know what people want unless they tell me.  Bossy, controlling, dominant men tell me what they want.

It’s time to masturbate again.