Monthly Archives: April 2016

Unexpected fun, processing, and affection

4 Replies

I said, “Hey Daddy want to have dinner and talk?” Hahahahaha. We did get around to dinner. We did do some talking. Mostly we finally got around to fucking. It was glorious. Our first date was about twelve years ago and we’ve done a fair bit of sm in that time… but we never got around to fucking. I am thrilled to report that strawberry/chocolate flavored condoms are not bad for sucking on extensively.

Then I had quite a chat with my shrink. I am… amused that she is thrilled I’m hunting. She really is. “You are all consenting adults having fun! Do whatever you want!” At the same time she says, “Uhm it sounds like you are getting really attached to this deity. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

So my shrink is 100% on board with me sport fucking. If someone comes over and spends more time… that’s maybe not cool. She heard that he is going to have an overnight when the kids are gone and she just about flipped.

“HE’S DOING WHAT?! WHERE WILL NOAH BE?!”

Uhhh… in the house?

“Oh so you wanted a threesome.”

I have no idea if that kind of thing will happen. I’m not opposed (hi, I’m still me) but it hasn’t been arranged and that isn’t the point. The point is… having a date and getting to snuggle longer afterwards.

“KRISSY WHAT ARE YOU DOING HE SOUNDS LIKE A SECONDARY.”

This was a hilarious phone call to me. The expectations folks have of me…

(Uhm, my shrink says congratulations to the sadists I’ve been playing with. She’s delighted to see me so happy. It’s been a while.)

She got a little annoyed after a while trying to keep names and handles straight. I should probably send her an email with a cast list so she can follow along better. (She’ll get everybody. I wonder if I could somehow anonymize it for public. Ha. She’d hear about all the people I’m hoping to run into soon but I haven’t seen ’em yet. Goodness gracious I’m slutty.) I think it is funny how different my shrink feels about my dating compared to Noah. Noah’s a lot more ok with the fact that I’m being lovey dovey with my friends. He’s seen these people be my friends for long stretches of time. He doesn’t feel threatened.

My shrink is all, “Fuck ’em and move on to another person. Don’t get attached. That’s a threat to your marriage.”

…..

Given how much time everyone I’m fucking spends saying, “How is Noah? Are you sure we should do this?” I’m… less convinced they are threats.

She told me to be very careful not to start keeping secrets from Noah. I said: “When I fuck up and don’t tell him something to his face I try to make sure I document online because I don’t want to hide anything.” But she’s suspicious. She’s convinced I’m going to move the deity in next month. I think the closest I’ve come to moving a poly partner in was Sarah and… you know what? I’m not worried.

Speaking of documenting, there was a small hiccup in play last night. I tried to express a boundary and it was heard as an in-scene protestation. It was recognized and apologized for. I cried. I’m over it. These kinds of mistakes happen. Why is it so easy to forgive someone else and so hard to forgive myself? I know he didn’t mean it. His face crumbled when he understood. It’s lovely how these sadists want to hurt me but not hurt me and that’s a funny line to learn how to walk. There will be stumbles. We’ll keep walking.

My shrink started shrieking when I told her how much I talk to the deity during the day. “THAT’S A RELATIONSHIP!” Dude. I’ve been talking to him for years. It’s not just a while fucking thing. He’s my friend. “But! But!” She’s not upset about the dude I’ve been playing with for twelve years and I just show up at his house on a regular basis. That’s fine. Cause he’s ollllllld.

I didn’t know that fucking half a dozen people in a short period of time would convince me I’m not that casual of a hunter. Ok then.

This round of hunting is so glorious. I went to Renegade’s last night (it’s a bar where a munch is held) intending to just flirt because I have hot dates tonight. Yeah my friends don’t care. Glorious friends. Daddy and one of the flirtingest-boys-ever were both pinching and squeezing me a fair bit. Because it is funny to make me squeak. I guess. Cupid came and that was quite lovely.

Last night I felt like I was sitting on the corner of Makeout Lane and Pinch Me Harder Court. I kissed so many people. It’s funny going between casually, happily kissing people I’ve been kissing for a while and a new person leans in and I shove my hands out and blurt, “I HAVE HERPES.”

He laughed. He said, “You’ve actually already told me that.”

“YEAH WELL. I’M GOING TO DO IT A FEW MORE TIMES. I WAS AN ASSHOLE WHO WASN’T UPFRONT ENOUGH SO I’M GOING TO BE REALLY OBNOXIOUS FOR A WHILE HERE.”

He laughed at me more. But in a nice way.

I don’t want to hurt anyone.

Oh do you know what is funny? When someone says, “Oh you shouldn’t taunt a sadist… you never know what you’ll get” and I get to lean in and grin and say, “I know. I’m a sadist.” He pulled back like he touched an electric fence. That was awesome. hahahahaha

I have such plans for Saturday. I can’t wait to make that beautiful boy hurt. It will be glorious. That reminds me. I need to send an email to the party host about rules. Done. My proverbial dick is so hard right now. I do hope she says yes. Then… oh boy. I’m not going to preview what I’m going to do. He gets to be surprised. I have some shopping to do today. Oh fuck I love my life.

Why isn’t my shrink being weird about the other folks? Mostly I think because after asking me to rattle off ages she decided the deity was “age appropriate” and no one else I’m seeing is and that is somehow a big threat? Whatever. I’ve been involved with my submissive for like fifteen years. Oh. He’s not on IM. So he’s less threatening? Woman. You have weird ass boundaries.

Oh yes. I also had a chat with my former Owner. It went much better than I expected. He was respectful, supportive, and loving. I made the right choice in loving him all those years ago. I think it’s funny that my shrink is worried about the deity but she doesn’t worry about me going back to events where I’m going to sigh over my Owner. She says, “Oh I know that’s over.”

But I still sigh. Like I do with everyone. I don’t want to go back there. It’s just… sigh worthy that life doesn’t work out how you want. I really wanted to carry that man’s babies. I wanted it for the first big chunk of my adult life. I notice.

Not that I’m in any way sad about the family I have. I think it suits me better in every way.

But I’m a wistful soul.

I don’t want to move everyone in. I don’t want to live with everyone. But I am greatly enjoying the increased intimacy with my friends. I’m feeling so grateful that my friends want to love on me and hurt me and talk to me about why they want to do what they want to do in life. I am so grateful I get to crawl into peoples heads and learn about their motivations.

The talking about it part is almost my favorite. Except for the getting off. That’s my other favorite.

This was one of those times when my shrink spends a lot of time telling me how unusual I am.

“Krissy… other people don’t spend hours a day having sex. That’s not normal.”

Why not?

“Krissy… other people can’t orgasm like that. That’s not normal.”

Hey… you don’t know my friends. Ok yeah I’m easy to get off under the right circumstances but I know lots of folks like me. We exist.

“Krissy… other people can’t have sex with someone unless they feel a strong physical attraction like they want to be with that person forever and you can have sex with people you just like without feeling all that attracted to them. That’s not normal.”

Hey. I wouldn’t say I wasn’t attracted to them. I just don’t need to be in-love-get-married-have-babies attracted. Degrees. Levels.

I’m not attracted to people based on them looking like they belong on a magazine cover. I’m attracted to people based on how they make me feel. I care a lot more about the expression in someones eyes as they look at me. The more “conventionally attractive” someone is the more I find they don’t actually look at me. They look to see if I’m looking at them and then they keep scanning the room. Folks who are not necessarily gorgeous (but I think they are hot) look at me.

They want to know what I’m feeling so they can play with it. That’s fun.

Dad canceled yesterday. He doesn’t feel he can handle a trip in April but he hopes to try later in the summer. I have mixed feelings. I am going to work hard on coming down on the side of “Well my guest room is buried in tile anyway and cleaning it up would suck.”

Feedback: no more face slapping for a few weeks. My jaw hurts.

I know everyone is happy I’m playing again but I do need to heal in between woundings. Just sayin’. Geez. Go reread the Kushiel books. Phèdre talks about needing to heal between play. Ha. And she was a bad ass touched by the gods. I’m just a kinky woman. Healing. Yo.

My jaw hurts all the way up into the skull because it is so tired of being knocked out of whack for one week. I have some weird jaw stuff anyway because when the pit bull attacked me when I was five, it knocked my jaw out of socket and made things permanently out of alignment. Sufficient quantities of oral sex cause me problems. I’m probably going to get there soon with uhm how I’m going.

Slow down Krissy, you ain’t as good as you once was.

Yeah… time for more rest. I’m getting tired.

My shrink was thrilled to hear how my mood is elevated across the board. Things are going really well with the kids (beyond the fact that we are all sick of tile). We are snuggling more than we were for a while. We are talking really well. We are having intense conversations. I’m being pretty good about my expectations. They are falling into a rhythm of their own.

Home schooling continues to be the best decision I’ve made with my kids. I love the relationship we have. I love that I get to help them work through their stuff. Genetically my kids were going to have a high propensity towards being high strung, difficult, and troubled.

Instead they glow.

I am so glad I get to do this.

Frequency is a phrase Noah and I use a lot. If I’m a lot more intensely connecting with a whole bunch of old friends… what is that going to mean long-term in how much I see each person? All of them in aggregate?

He keeps sighing deeply and saying only time will tell. Pendulums do tend to over correct before they settle down to where they are going. I remain grateful he thinks of me as an expensive, troublesome pet. I so am.

I’m a feral cat.

Barely domesticated. But I have my perks.

Ok. I think I’m ready to go back to bed. I wonder how long until the kids wake up…

Belief

Leave a reply

I was asked what I believe in. If I’m not a Christian, what am I? Where do we go? Why are we here?

I believe we are here because of a series of accidents, some terrible and some wonderful.

I believe the only meaning that exists is the relationships we create while we are here. I think we are alive as long as we live in the hearts and minds and souls of whatever we have touched. I think that we die when our last breath leaves our body. I think that we become one with everything that has ever been and will ever be.

I think that connection is enough for me to want to make things better for the other results of accidents. They didn’t choose this either. There is no deserve. There is no plan. But we can try to make it better.

It takes all kinds. I don’t need you to be like me and I don’t need to be like you. But I want you here.

That is what I believe in.

In love with love

2 Replies

Noah and I talked about this yesterday. I am… not your average hunter. I know many predatory hunters. They want to feel powerful. They want to have a long list of prey because it makes them feel successful. I want to fall in love with everyone.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the fact that a lot of what I seek in sleeping with people is the ability to love someone like you a bit more. I have a number of hangups around “types of people” that I genuinely want to get over. I want to be able to treat people like individuals and I do that best by learning one story at a time in detail so I can understand how it varies from the “general”.

I want to see the patterns and understand the variations. I don’t know about you… but I’m not as smart as I’d like to be. It takes me a long time to figure these things out about folks.

I learn about people best when I fall in love with them at least a little. Is it infatuation? Is it twitterpation? Is it love?

What is love?

Is love wanting to touch someone? Is love wanting people to be happy even if that doesn’t involve you a little bit? Is love wanting people to take up as much space as possible? Is love hoping that this person will do things both bad and good so long as they act and exist and are.

Yesterday a sarcastic joke was made about all the bodies I want to get under. Noah and Pam sat around and kinda counted on their fingers and we decided it was best not to put a number on the number of bodies I want to get under.

If it had come from someone else I might have felt insulted or judged. They were delighted. I felt loved.

How big is my roster?

Err, how do you count? Previous people I will definitely see again? Previous people I won’t see again for logistical reasons but I might if life changed? People I’m interested in pursuing but I’m not sure how they feel? People who have said they are interested but we haven’t followed up yet?

I don’t have permission to talk about very many people at this point. I wait until there is a bit more established before I ask. Some folks are a little funny about how I talk about people. I try to say nice things about you and admit my fuck ups. I’m tracking me more than I’m tracking you. My mistakes are a much bigger deal to me.

Like not negotiating well on HSV. I do great at random pick up parties. I stop someone before they get close to my face. It is more complicated with people I’ve known for a long time. More complicated still if I think someone has read the users guide. I want that to substitute for negotiating and… that’s wrong. That’s so very wrong of me. I can’t do that. I am too god damn experienced to be making bullshit rookie mistakes like that. This has to be my last fuck up. Fine, I can say “I haven’t been negotiating in a few years so I messed up timing.” Ok. One last fuck up. Period. Then never ever ever again.

Yes, he forgave me and isn’t angry. I’m upset with myself. I can’t do this again. I know better.

Maybe love also means wanting people to be able to make informed, responsible, self aware choices instead of waiting until the heat of the moment when someone will feel less comfortable saying no.

That’s why I’m so pissed at myself.

No pressure, Krissy. Give people choices and you cannot pressure them to decide one way or another. They have to live in their body. They have to live with the results of their decisions…not me.

I am a hunter. I try not to be a predator. I prefer catch and release. I just want… to… borrow some of your time in a way that will hopefully be fun for you. If you indicate distress I want you off the line immediately. You clearly weren’t meant to be my prey if I upset you. I’m so sorry.

I want to love you and make you feel better about yourself. I want you to feel even more hot and sexually accomplished. I want you to feel just a little bit more like you can go out and figure out what you want after you’ve bounced off someone with such strong and particular ideas.

You don’t have to agree with me. You don’t have to be like me. (Please don’t be like me. The world doesn’t need more folks like me…)

Be you. You are so wonderful. I love you so much. I like seeing you in the world. I am glad you are here. I do want to kiss you. I am sorry that I am diseased. I have always been kissy. So I’ve had herpes since I was a toddler. Like kissy toddlers do.

Kissy Krissy. That was one of the nicer nicknames from my childhood.

Ok, knowing what I know now about the sexual abuse it’s a little creepy that everyone liked that I was so kissy as a tiny child. But oh well. Moving along.

Kissy Krissy sure sounds nicer than Pissy Krissy. Are those my choices in life? Be sexually available or be angry? I sure act like it.

No I don’t have to be sexually available. But I… uhh… kinda like sex a whole lot more than average.

Can you be a nice girl and still fuck dozens of people in a short period of time? How about hundreds throughout your lifetime? What if I hit a thousand? When do I stop being ‘nice’?

I’m curious. Depending on how this week goes I’m going to hit 130. I’m pretty sure.

I never did get my party for hitting triple digits.

So take Noah’s body count and put a one in front of it. Yeah. Promiscuous.

And I do have strong feelings for the majority of the people I sleep with. The people I don’t fall in love with are the one offs at parties. It’s why I don’t keep in touch with them. I don’t have bandwidth to fall more in love with them.

I have a deity and a submissive and a cupid and…

I’m feeling more nervous about the degree of pushing my wants I’m doing on other people. I haven’t hit their rev limiters yet.

I think.

Lots of folks I’m not going to name right now for #REASONS. But I’m thinking about you. The folks in-house got to hear your litany last night.

I think about all of you. Sometimes I wonder how one brain can keep such a diverse cast of characters straight. Good thing not all y’all are straight.

I think of it as a web because my people are very interconnected. So and so is fucking me and three other people. Of those three other people one is a good friend of mine, one is someone my other friend is fucking and… so it goes.

“Oh what tangled webs we weave when first we practice to conceive.” Thanks former lover who may not want to be named here. I will never forget you. You taught me things. Thinking about you makes me smile.

I fall in love hard and I fall in love fast and I fall in love forever. My life would be so much easier if I could stop loving my Owner. But I can’t. If my Owner showed up in the middle of the night and said, “I need you” I would need to have a forktastically compelling reason to not just follow him wherever he wanted me to go.

Because he wouldn’t ask unless it were serious and if he came to me… whatever he needed I’d do.

Just like if Jenny got into trouble I would be in Scotland in less than 48 hours no matter the cost or difficulty.

These are my people.

This web is what I have in this life. I like sleeping with my web but it isn’t a mandatory component of loving someone. I’ve never fucked Jenny and I would move mountains for her.

Jenny was there for me after the suicides. Jenny has been with me through some of the most vulnerable, horrible moments of my life. I would do anything for Jenny.

I don’t measure my love in access to someones sticky bits. But if I get to touch your sticky bits I’ll probably fall in love faster. Especially if I get to touch your stick bits and you make a big deal out of respecting my mind.

I’m yours. How and where do you want me?

I want to fall in love with you. I don’t want to marry everyone. I can’t have any more children. (Though co-raising children is the best thing ever.) I don’t…. know what I want.

I want to feel viable and loved. I want to feel like it is ok to be filled to the brim with love. I want to feel like it is ok that at any given point if you press me for who I am in love with I will start rattling off names, run out of fingers, think harder, run out of fingers again… maybe keep going….

I’m not lying about being in love with you. I can’t love myself. So I love you as a proxy. I have so much love to give. Yes, you get some of it.

Is it creepy? I hope not. I try to have boundaries around it. There are some people I pester constantly on IM because I feel comfortable nudging them for attention. There are people I barely contact except to arrange in person time. There are people I want to go show up with them and I don’t because I have trouble not climbing all over them like a jungle gym. It depends on the dynamic and my mental state.

Sometimes I don’t touch people more because I feel gross and polluting and I don’t want to hurt you.

That’s complicated.

It is weird managing the fact that I’d like to crawl into way more beds than I do but I’m afraid of hurting people.

I don’t want to hurt you.

I love you. I am so sorry when I fuck up. I am sorry when I make stupid assumptions because someone else would be ok with x so why are you having your own opinion?

I’m so sorry I ever invalidate your right to be seen as an individual person with an individual experience. I’m working on getting better. I am better than I was. I need to get better still.

I want to be able to walk into a room with you and see you as the sole person there. The only one I need to adjust my energy to, whatever that means. Even when I’m in the room with multiple people. How do I do this? Oh it’s hard.

But I want to try.

You are worth it. You are worth seeing and loving.

I love you.

These are a few of my favorite things…

3 Replies

Lest I sound like a one trick pony… My Bonus Kids spent the night! As usual, this is thrilling and wonderful. I’m doing my best to smile pretty at their parents and say, “Wouldn’t split custody be niiiiiiiice?” Not 50/50 custody… but couldn’t I have them like 10% or 20% or 30% of the time?

It’s rather awkward to be all, “Hey I’d like to have more kids but I would die… can I borrow  yours?”

So far they are willing to share somewhat. How much we will find out in the fullness of time. I’m thrilled.

Part of what I love so much about my Bonus Kids is that I am not the mama so problem solving is an entirely different process. I have mad respect for their relationship with their mama and I can see how she is the best mom in the world. She knows them to the marrow of their bones in I way I just can’t. They are foreign to me.

But it makes me think of my kids differently. Oh. That’s why things are so easy. That connection.

I don’t think that having biological children is the be-all/end-all of all of life… but I’m having a lot of fun.

My kids validate my existence in a way nothing else can or will. They needed me for survival. They have a lot of my weird/wacky traits without having lots of complex trauma stories behind them. That’s fascinating to watch.

My kids don’t need me for survival any more. They still need me, but it’s different.

A friend was over helping me with tile on Monday. All four of us got hungry. I asked the kids to make lunch and they did and it was good. (My hands were doing gross things.)

Tile plugs along. I probably have 15-20 more hours of removing backing from tile. I’m working on taping spring down. Then I want to finish winter. Then autumn. Then I have to figure out summer.

Oh goody.

Four more hours of taping spring? I think the mountain will take 4-8 more hours. Autumn is probably 10 hours away from done.

So that’s like eight days of work before I get to summer. No… closer to two weeks with how slow I’m going. Depends on how much help I get unbacking tile. Fudge. Uhm, at least the remodel is stalled and I don’t have to hurry. Ugh. This Friday I’ve been waiting nine weeks for a letter.

Once they move back in to start work they have about three weeks to go. So… I need to get my butt in gear. I need to be only working on summer when they get back started. Or be done with summer.

I think summer is going to need to be a different style of mosaic. I am looking at different techniques and options. It is so much fun to not have any idea what the hell I’m doing and just… make something cool.

Fuck yeah.

My garden is coming right along.

Last night I only got 7 hours of sleep, but I still feel better after two nights of sleep. I felt much better by yesterday afternoon.

I appreciate when I can misunderstand something and get over it in a 24 hour period. That was quite literally not possible 10 years ago. Progress is awesome. Noah patted me on the back and said he was really surprised how well I handled it. That’s nice of him. Thanks Noah.

I really have worked hard on mellowing out. It’s a process. You need to be safe to be mellow.

Thank you, Noah.

Oooh, another sweet point. Two wonderful friends asked me how I would feel about them asking Noah to play. Awwwww aren’t you the sweetest things? I feel charmed and delighted. You asked me first. Nobody is asking Noah first. But my friends ask me first before they go slide on up to my husband.

That was not required but hot damn you managed to slide into my magnanimous zone. Now you were so awesome that I’m going to put a lot of pressure on Noah to handle things right and be deserving. “Do you know how lucky you are to get women like that?! BE NICE.” Or not nice. Whatever y’all negotiate. Have fun!

Slutty women deserve to be treated like the angels of mercy they are. Be grateful. Or I’ll be pissed all the way off.

All hail slutty people of all possible gender configurations. Huzzah!

I love you all.

Not just because you are slutty… but that does make you feel like kin and I like that feeling.

What makes me happy? Noah. Noah is handling me hunting better than I am. When I over react and want to flip out over something he patiently reels me back in and explains why my feelings are out of proportion and I really should be giving people chances.

Maybe the reason I am more calm now is because someone is intimately aware of my thinking process and he helps me manage it. “Ok so you read this in an upsetting way. Let’s talk about that.”

For the record, folks, I don’t have a lot of privacy from Noah. Partially because I just don’t desire that kind of privacy but mostly because I need help managing my disordered thinking and Noah is willing and that requires access. So I give it to him.

If I keep secrets from Noah I will need some way of color coding that information in my brain so I can keep it from Noah. That sounds hard. I have enough hard in my life. I’d rather keep letting information pass through me like a sieve when it comes to Noah. That is the most comfortable part for me.

So that when I screw up and don’t tell him something right in the first place it’ll still come up because I have complete diarrhea of the mouth and I tell him everything so even if I do it in a dick way… everything is coming out and we can process it. Sometimes part of the processing is, “You told me that in a dick way.” Yeah. That’s true. I did.

I remain convinced that no one on this planet could love me like Noah does. Thank you Noah. I am so grateful for you.

Other happy news! We are going to be house-guest central. (Finish the bathroom, damnit!)

In April Dad is coming down to spend a weekend. This will be entertaining because he wants to see his bio-kids a fair bit too and they are having big feelings about me since my kids were born. They can ignore the slutty daughter-girlfriends. I’m… something different. They aren’t so sure they are ok with him adopting an adult child and being a grandparent. That is stepping on their toes. But it also looks somewhat like I may be the only one of the three of us to have kids. So yeah. Complicated. I’m trying to be as nice and accommodating as I can there. I like his bio-kids and I hope that we can long-term get more friendly. I hope. *cross fingers*

In May a friend from the Bay who moved east then moved west (but way the fuck north of here) is going to stay with us for a weekend. I’m excited about that. I haven’t seen her since before the kids were born.

Also in May we have a fun overnight adult-only camping thing I’m wicked excited about. I don’t know how it will go. When I used to go to these events, in the dim recesses of my memory, I remember lots of bdsm and fairly little sex. Some, but not a lot. These days… I’d uhhhh… yeah. I’m no longer content with a weekend of bdsm and no sex. I’ve changed. So yeah. I have no idea how this will go.

I had this really slutty idea about how to handle play at that party. Maybe I’ll write about it separately. Maybe I’m not quite that brave. Ahem.

Ahem.

Then in May I’m going to the grief ritual with Sarah. I’m so grateful she wants to come with me. I anticipate a full weekend sob/hug fest. That’s going to be magical. At the other grief rituals I have attended, I always went alone. The organizer always encourages hugs/physical support and… I’m me. Don’t fucking touch me who the hell are you? Especially when I’m freaked out and feeling vulnerable. Strangers just shouldn’t touch me. That’s not safe for any of us. Don’t do it. Sarah is safe. This is going to be a night and day different experience. It’s a full weekend retreat instead of going to and from a college campus every day on bart.

I’m looking forward to this. We have so much to talk about. So many different levels of wounding. We’ve already looked at a lot of this together over the 12ish years we’ve been doing whatever it is we are doing. But this is going to be super intense and heavy. In a way we both need. Thank you my friend. I am so grateful.

June is blissfully unscheduled and I think it should stay pretty close to that way.

July I get to host my friend and her two sons for three weeks. They are coming in from Arizona. I’m so excited. I met her on the road trip and we’ve talked a whole bunch since then.

I am really proud of how well I’m keeping the house up despite the chaos of the remodel and the amount of work I’m getting done. This is remaining a good work space. It feels accessible and functional. *pat myself on the back* (Let’s be real here: the kids are amazing these days. The road trip was worth it.)

I haven’t been gushing about the kids lately. Mostly cause my arms hurt and I’m obsessed with my sex life. But the kids are knocking my socks off. They are making such tremendous progress.

I’m happy that both kids say, “Can we take a break from classes?” It isn’t just coming from me and financially motivated. *phew* We could all use a break from trying to become something different and just… be for a little while.

August/September is the cruise. Looks like another family might be joining us after all. I am completely fucking thrilled and surprised and happy. I think that all four families might stay in Florida for a week after the cruise to see stuff. 7 grown ups and 6 kids sounds way more like a party.

My life is so ridiculously good I just don’t understand how I got here.

A child is waking up. It is time for the day to begin.

Important point.

Leave a reply

I think this is often unclear. When I’m writing… if you think I’m talking to you the answer is maybe. Sometimes I talk to one person for a whole post, but rarely. Usually I switch who I’m talking to mid-post. Often mid-paragraph. Sometimes mid-sentence.

The you at the start of the sentence may not be the you at the end of the sentence and I do that on purpose.

The degree of infatuation I feel for various people fluctuates based on a lot of factors. I feel happy about different things with different people.

At this count I can reasonably say that in this calendar month I expect to play with at least eight, maybe nine people. Or it could be higher. I don’t know yet.

If I’m saying “you” and you think “whoa shit her feelings are too big for talking about me” yeah you are an amalgam. You are many things (and people and situations) I’m reacting to at once. I’m not reacting to one thing or one person. Or maybe this would be easier.

I don’t like easy.

I do like complicated though. I like falling into people. I like intensity. Yes, I will have big feelings about you. Is it infatuation? Is it love?

Which you are we talking about?

Because whoa. I have a range of feelings. I’m not going to parse them here. I’m not going to rank them.

Everyone is different. I like different people for different reasons and Noah says I don’t have to choose and he’s the only one who could tell me that right now.

So how much do I want?

I’m drowning in a river of want. How much of it is for you? You won’t know unless you really ask me. And I’ll be brutal in answering. You may not like the answer. You may not want to know the specifics of what I’m obsessing about you.

You may not like it one little bit. Maybe you just want what I’m willing to bring up of my own volition. Maybe.

Who knows.

Ask for 100% of what I want?

Never. It’ll never happen. Because I don’t think I’m that brave. Not brave enough to say out loud everything I want. You have no idea what I want. You really don’t. I’m not even brave enough to tell Noah a lot of it.

I’m not nearly as brave as people think.

A river of want.

I can’t tell you what I want though. That’s… not fair. Somehow.

The Professor complicates Cupid complicates the Deity complicates Daddy complicates Noah complicates Sarah complicates my submissive complicates…

I could go on but now I’m just bragging. And I’m actually out of names I’m explicitly allowed to use. Other people have different privacy standards. Ahem.

There are little brush fires all over my extended web right now. If you think I’m upset about you you are partially right. And there’s all those other folks.

If it were just you I’d settle down. Probably. I’d like to think that at this stage of my life the level of complication from any one of the people in my web would be… easy. That’s why I want so many.

I do like complicated.

Users Guide 3.1

3 Replies

Good golly I’m learning lessons fast. This is an update. Unless you are planning to fuck me soon, you can mostly skip.

Many… many years ago I copied the idea of a users guide from my friend because I know that I am difficult to figure out when it comes to sex sometimes. I’m picky and fussy and just generally demanding. Therefore it seems like a lovely idea to have some sort of cheat sheet about how to handle me in general. Some of these things I have figured out on my own, some of these things I have had pointed out to me by friends and/or lovers/husband, some of these things are constantly in flux and will no longer be true in just a few months. Of course this is a living document and therefore subject to change and revision without notice. Just because something is in here doesn’t mean you should assume that for now and all times this is the only thing I like/want/don’t like etc. After the roller coaster that was pregnancy and giving birth, I promise you things change in my body over time.

Index:
A. Before sex (including courtship/getting to know one another)
1. Just meeting and assumptions.
2. Appearance stuff and attraction.
a. Hair
b. Weight/height
c. Gender
d. Cocks
e. Race
f. Oral Hygiene
3. STIs/safer sex
4. Foreplay
a. Breasts
b. Ways to turn me on
B. During sex (including bdsm play)
1. Oral sex
2. Positions
3. Vibrators
4. Bondage
5. Group Sex
6. D/s
7. Pain
8. Care of the delicate bits
C. After sex. (including relationship level interactions)

A. Before Sex
1. Just getting acquainted
a. General

Never assume that you are going to get to go to bed with me. Yes, I go to bed with quite a few people—that doesn’t mean I will choose you. I expect and require that people treat me as an equal, and more importantly as an intelligent, thoughtful, responsible human being until otherwise negotiated. Please don’t act like I ought to be honored to teach you whatever it is you want to know about play/sex/whatever. I have taught classes and initiated virgins and newbies alike. I’ve put in my time to the community. I can coast on doing what pleases me and only what pleases me.

b. Specifics in a Having-Kids-Lifestyle

I don’t have a lot of free time. What free time I have is mostly spent alone because I have a very high intensity life that requires me to be well regulated emotionally despite stress. I can’t focus on getting to know new adults in a really concentrated way. I’m not flakey, but I don’t have much availability. And to be honest I’m a little flakey. My priority at this stage of my life is being nice to my kids. I have to keep the rest of my life quiet enough for that to happen or I have to drop other stuff. That is the deal for another ten years.

c. Kissing

This gets a whole section. Way before sex because it often happens long before sex happens. I like to kiss. Kissing is a big thing for me. I think kissing is one of the most intimate activities and if I am going to bed or playing with you I am seeking intimacy. Intimacy doesn’t mean you’ll be my one twue love or that we need to settle down… It just means I want to know you. If I want intimate contact with you, I probably want kissing to be part of that. (See below section on STI’s.)

2. Appearance stuff and attraction
a. Hair
Once upon a time I said that I prefer clean shaven men, but that has radically changed during my adulthood. My opinion now varies tremendously based on personal attitude, grooming standards, and just plain what suits each face. As for the hair on other peoples heads: I don’t care anymore. I barely notice. I’m interested in your mind. I like body hair on anyone. Pubic hair doesn’t affect me one way or the other. I sometimes shave large portions of my body. I sometimes skip shaving for over a year at a go. You have to be totally ok with either or go away.

b. Weight/height

My weight goes up and down in a 40 pound range like a yo yo. Almost annually. You can’t be attracted to me for a specific look of my body. It will be different next month. I don’t know what the fork is up with it. Yes, I talk to doctors about it. I like people with bodies. I like fat bodies. I am…more appreciative of slender bodies than I used to be, but I still prefer some heft. I used to be a bit hung up on height and now I don’t care. I like people.

c. Gender

I am a cis-gender woman. If you haven’t picked up on the fact that I am queer then you haven’t been reading closely. I have had strong attractions to people at every point on the gender spectrum. I am completely comfortable having sexual contact that begins with, “What words do you want me to use for your body parts and how do you want me to touch you?” because I can’t guess. Everyone is unique.

d. Cocks (What the hell—since I am listing my preferences…)

Everyone should remember that the vagina is all about potential space. Yes, it can technically stretch, but in a normal resting spot it isn’t particularly large. My body doesn’t stretch terribly well or willingly (even after giving birth to two children) so I am not a fan of overly large cocks. Period. If it is going to cause my jaw to be sore within five minutes of oral sex I will probably experience a lot of pain during sex and that isn’t good for me. I am so not a size queen. I do not have lower limits on the size of cocks I can figure out how to enjoy. Not all sex is about penis in vagina sex. But I do have upper limits. Ow. No thank you. It’s not personal.

e. Race/marginalization

This is complicated. I am aware that I am most comfortable treating heterosexual white men like pieces of meat. If I fuck them and don’t call later… I don’t feel real bad. I have major hang ups around using people of color and women and gender ambiguous people in the same way. I feel tremendous shame and guilt around hurting already marginalized people. Which is to say… I really like having sex with people who are not het white men. I have a hard time approaching them. I don’t want to hurt them and I am less clear on the boundaries. I err on the side of not being a using asshole. But if you are interested… let me know.

f. Oral Hygiene

YES. Bad breath/teeth that look unclean is really really really repellent to me. I generally won’t kiss someone with bad breath. I will elect not to even if you are a nice person. Just no. I smoke pot and that has impact on my mouth. I do not mind kissing other people who smoke pot. I still really am not fond of kissing tobacco smokers. I don’t like the taste at all.

3. STIs/safer sex

The first thing that ought to happen in foreplay is a discussion of STI’s and safer sex expectations. My habit is getting tested every six months when I’m promiscuous. I am waiting on my current test results. I tested on 3/29/16 and didn’t come back with a positive. They didn’t test for herpes, but I already know about that.)

I have HPV. I have tested clean since 2003, but technically you always kinda have it? I am very very very upfront with this information. I am happy to provide you with access to information. You are an adult and you make your own decisions based on how much of a risk you are willing to take. Given the prevalence of HPV I think it isn’t that big of a deal, but I don’t have to live in your body for the next umpteen years and you do. I never want someone to regret having been intimate with me and I will defer to the stricter preference for barriers.

I also test positive for HSV1, commonly known as oral herpes. I have had a few cold sores as an adult but they are rare and I feel them coming. If you think that HSV1 is a deal breaker for you for oral sex or for kissing, we are probably better sticking to being friends.

I am a big proponent of the idea that we are having “safer” sex. The only safe sex is with your hand. There is risk involved in the play I do and I acknowledge it and try to minimize it. I do not have a desire to play with people who are in denial about said risk.

Gloves… ok honestly we probably won’t be 100% sticklers about gloves but we do use them in party environments because they are safer and more hygienic in a group atmosphere.

Condoms are not negotiable for vaginal or anal penetration. I renegotiated them for oral. I will decide on a case by case basis.

4. Foreplay

a. Breasts

This is really funny… but I feel like I should start tracking this on my period application on my phone. How much breast stimulation, and what kind, varies dramatically through the month. There are days when I will claw your eyes out if you brush near them too hard. There are days when I really want gentle stimulation and lots of it. There are days I want to be hurt very badly. Sigh. I married the most wonderful, flexible guy.

I love playing with breasts/tits. I like on the rough end but I’m not married to it.

b. Ways to turn me on

First and foremost: talk to me. Tell me how hot you think I am. Tell me what you want to do to me. Tell me what you are doing while you are doing it. Just hearing you narrate how wet I am when you slide your finger into my cunt will increase the quantity of wetness. Read me porn. Have me read you porn. My brain is the most potent sexual organ in my body. Pay attention to it. Do you know why I like having sex with my friends? Because the ones I have sex with are the ones who have spent years buttering me up talking about what they like from sex.

Stroke my legs, particularly behind my knees. It is very easy to turn me on when I am lying on my stomach and my legs and back are stroked lightly. This is by far the most sensuous activity for me. I love having my neck and head stroked gently. It’s not a massage–it’s… waking up sensual contact.

Biting is hard. I like it but I get hurt really badly too easily in a way that causes me to go to dark mental places and I dissociate. It isn’t off the table… but it’s complicated. Be really careful. Watch me. Make sure I am still “there”.

Tell me how to please you. I love having someone tell me how to get them off—it will usually be enough to get me off. An awful lot of what I get out of sex with people other than my husband is that thrilling feeling of, “Hey here is someone I haven’t practiced on for years and I’m still talented enough to get them off. Yay!” So lots of instructions about what you want and how you want will… turn me into butter. (Once you have permission to talk to me like this. If I indicate a boundary you had better back off like you hit an electric fence or you’ll get the full taser.[not literally])

B. During Sex

1. Oral sex

I like giving blowjobs. A lot a lot a lot. I like them the most if there is some degree of being “forced” involved. I’m not talking about serious forcing, but pushing my head down on your cock is going to get me all wet. Telling me to suck your cock will get me all wet. Asking me politely if I would mind will probably cause me to lose interest in giving you oral sex. If I do it at all it will be a lackluster job and I dislike performing poorly. OH! These suggestions apply to people I have already had sex with. If I have not had sex with you, you bloody well need to ask. For those of you who have already had sex with me, guiding my head down slowly is giving me plenty of time to say, “Not today.”

For the record: if I have given you a blow job I consider you one of my sexual partners. None of this “oral sex doesn’t count as sex” crap. Don’t bloody ever tell me that we haven’t really had sex. You have fucked my body and probably (hopefully) come inside me. We have had sex. Sure, it was a different hole. Whoopie. It was still penetrative sex. Don’t worry about asking me if it is ok to come in my mouth. If I like you enough to let your dick in my mouth, I’m happy to have you come. I do prefer being told when it is happening so I can synch my breathing, but it is just a preference.

I do have a strong gag reflex and if I seriously fight to bring my head back after you have forcibly shoved my head down on your cock… let me go. I may be on my way to run to the bathroom and vomit. It has happened. It will probably happen again. I’m ok with this. Please don’t let the possibility of this happening prevent you from fucking my mouth with enthusiasm. It is great for me. This being said, I’m not terribly thrilled with having a relationship centered solely around me giving blow jobs. I will eventually feel kind of used (after a year of being in that kind of relationship I really didn’t like him anymore and I didn’t like me much more).
I haven’t played with someone who had a cunt in many years. Sigh. I remember them fondly.

Also: I really like getting oral sex while wearing a strap on. That is fucktastically hot.

2. Positions

I am old, cranky, and in chronic pain. There are times when I am up for acrobatic porn-star sex. There are days when it is, “I am here. What more do you want from me?” I can be fun enough whatever my range for the day. But you will have to respect where my body is on a given day. Your fantasies take a back seat to my physical limitations.

3. Vibrators

In this post kid era, there are times when penetrative sex alone is not enough to get me off. Mr Hitachi, however, never lets me down. I think the point of me having sex is so that I can get off. I know that other people have different beliefs about the purpose of sex, that is fine for them. I’m here to get off. If I’m not going to get off with you alone I will not hesitate to whip out my friend. Don’t worry. You will like the feeling of me orgasming enough to get over your ego at not being able to do it alone. It isn’t you. My body is kinda annoying at this stage. (For the record, when I want to be fucked while using a vibrator I almost always want to be face down.)

4. Bondage

Complicated. Once upon a time I spent a lot of time tying people up and being tied up. It isn’t really Noah’s thing so I don’t really do it any more. But I miss it fiercely. I really like being tied up. I really like being suspended. I really really like being suspended and fucked. Oh the good old days.

5. Group sex
Why yes, I would love to engage in group sex. Thank you for asking. I will make everyone talk more than they feel comfortable talking about wants, limits, permission, consent, etc. Because I need to hear all of those things said out loud. But then hell yeah.

6. D/s

What a difference ten years makes. Wow. Reading my old section here…. delete.

I am in a marriage that has power differential within tightly negotiated boundaries as we model a highly egalitarian marriage in front of our children. It will change after they grow up and we don’t have to look like such nice people any more. We have plans. Ahem.

I uhm, appear to have distinct interest in exactly one submissive man. How the hell did that happen? So I’m really not hunting for more in that department. I think my dance card will be full.

If I am playing with you on a more one-off basis it is very ok to negotiate for a D/s dynamic and tell me what kinds of things you fantasize about. I can be almost anyone for an hour.

7. Pain

Post-children my body has changed dramatically and I honestly don’t know what I like. Well, I know I still like single tails and canes. Those are my perennial favorites. My husband doesn’t know how to use a single tail. Do you? Choking is completely off the table. I have pre-stroke symptoms that are very concerning and I have young children. We cannot risk my life.

I thought the mallet was absolutely awesome. Single tails are harder than they used to be. Sting is really hard for me. I like thud.

8. Care of the delicate bits

Due to some of the stuff that happened when I was very young I have a whole lot of scar tissue throughout my vagina/labia/anus. Scar tissue is like a dotted line in the skin that means, “Please tear here.” Despite my very strong desire for rough, and rougher, and rougher sex… I can’t actually handle all that I would like to handle. (Damnit.) Don’t pull roughly on my labia. Don’t pull my ass cheeks apart with any speed or force. Just DON’T. I will tear open and it will hurt and hurt and that will mostly curtail sex for hours if not days. It sucks ass and so I try to avoid massive tearing. Gentle handling of the bits is important.

That is the paragraph from the pre-kids era. The only update I will give to that is: having children did do some work to break up the internal scar tissue inside my vagina. (Hurray!) But I am still delicate in a way you would not expect from someone with my overall temperament. I’m a fragile toy. Treat me with care.

Because we will be having sex with condoms please to be having lube very close by. It is my friend.

C. After Sex/play

Immediately after sex/play I will want to breathe and hug for a few minutes. I will probably want to spend an extended period of time talking and making out. I will want a check in email afterwards for any bdsm play–I do not need it for vanilla sex. I like being friends with people but that has to happen around my schedule. It is highly limited. I’m not rejecting you. I’m dealing with the fact that right now my life is about figuring out how to be healthy around my kids and that is much harder for me than you might think. It takes a lot of time and energy. It is very important to me that I do this right. It will remain my focus for quite some time.

Hunting lessons

Leave a reply

Exhaustion is a real thing. When I’m over tired I can’t read tone to save my life. I’m whiny, over-sensitive and I’m going to spend a lot of time crying. It’s not about a person saying something… it’s about being tired. I didn’t respect that yesterday. Given how much… pushing it I’ve done on sleep stuff lately I need to build better boundaries around this. Don’t respond to messages when I’m that tired.

I wrote about 7 pages in a word document yesterday. Notice how I’m not posting it? I don’t think I was even a little coherent. I was tired and scared.

I live with a kind of existential dread most people can’t understand. On one hand I’m one of the asking-ist people you’ll ever meet. I ask and ask and ask for things. On the other hand I live in mortal terror that I will rape someone again. That I will ask for something and someone won’t feel comfortable/safe saying no and I will be an evil monster as usual.

This is complicated for me. Because if you can’t say, “Hey do you want to do x?” and get a yes/no answer…how the fuck is life supposed to work?

I don’t know.

Folks tell me that I’m doing a good thing by giving people opportunities to refine their boundaries and decide what they do and don’t want.

I feel scared all the time that I’m on the verge of hurting people. I feel like I should withdraw a lot because I’m pushing too hard. Noah says this may be a bad time to assume that my bad reading of one persons tone means I should stop asking other people for things.

For some reason he seems to think that individual humans should be judged on their own behavior.

Whatever.

So it isn’t going to be a rule (because how the fuck well do I follow rules?!?!) but I think it should be a guideline to not respond to ambiguous messages at all when I’m tired. Once I’m not tired I can say, “Hey I’m not sure I’m getting your tone of voice here. Can you clarify?” Cause wouldn’t that be useful.

I don’t feel like I did yesterday. Glorious 8 hours of sleep. I hate sleep deprivation.

Many folks in the scene have been asking me, “Oh do you remember Mistress ___? She’s coming around more again.”

Goody. She likes to tell me that I’m a bigger bitch than her because I don’t handle sleep deprivation well. Can’t wait to run into her. weeeeeeeeeeee

I’ve gotten off overly lucky this hunting phase. Things have been going too smoothly. I’ve been getting too many ‘yes’ answers. Too many people telling me I’m doing it right. When I hit a bump it feels… big.

It isn’t. I’m going to get over it. But yesterday I couldn’t read tone and I spent a lot of time crying. Like I do.

Sleep. Dear goodness, sleep.

When I was a kid my sister used to tell me, repeatedly, that if I have the same problem over and over it is my fault and not other peoples fault.

I push boundaries. I do it globally. That makes it seem to me like it is all my fault and I’m a bad person. It means that when I feel spooked that I came too near a boundary with one person I want to globalize it and use it as a reason I should stay home and stop hurting people.

I want to use that experience as evidence that I am a monster who is unable to stop hurting people. I want to use the hint of possibility that I pushed too hard as evidence that I should stop asking for anything from anyone because I am not deserving.

I want to tell everyone that I know they don’t really want me and I should stay home.

I kinda got yelled at for that yesterday. Not “YELLED AT” but forcefully reminded that it isn’t my place to tell people what they think or want.

Yeah.

I’m sorry.

I feel bad for wanting you. I feel like I am placing a burden on you that I shouldn’t be placing. It isn’t fair. It isn’t appropriate. Just because I want you that means nothing about what you want and I don’t know what you want.

I don’t know and I’m not sure I’m good at reading people.

Noah makes sure to do over the top physical gestures to highlight how delighted he is by me constantly. Because otherwise I walk through my life feeling like an anvil of disappointment is about to drop on my head because I am not good enough to please anyone.

It isn’t fair to need people to be so demonstrative of their approval. I should just believe.

But I don’t. I’ve had too many years of wanting to die because I am not enough. I do need to feel like people really want me to be there.

Or I should go home and snuggle my kids. Because my kids really want me to be there.

I’m not saying I want to die right now. I don’t. I’m doing alright. I feel… whiny not suicidal. That’s fantastic progress for me. I feel sad and anxious and like I really want to figure out how to do this right some fucking year.

I want to stop messing up negotiating. I feel like there is no valid excuse for fucking up this way at this stage. I’m not a kid messing up out of ignorance. I’m a grown up who fucks up because I’m sloppy and I don’t dot all my i’s and cross all my t’s.

I feel ashamed of that.

But I don’t know how to find a happy medium on the herpes shit. It is… complicated. So many people have it but the few people who don’t know/haven’t been specifically told they are positive… it’s a thing. Should I tattoo “I have herpes” on my forehead so I don’t ever fuck up that bit of negotiating again?

Kissing is a big deal. My Owner didn’t kiss me. I’ve dated other guys who wouldn’t kiss me but who would allow me to provide some kind of service (sometimes sexual and sometimes not) for them.  I can’t do that any more. I just can’t. Maybe that section of the users guide should be rewritten.

I like kissing and I know I’m diseased. I’m sorry. I feel bad about existing in this dichotomy but here I am.

Thank you for not caring, Noah.

Kissing feels connecting and bonding. Kissing feels like the difference between just being an object and being a person having an intense shared experience. I need kissing at this point or I really shouldn’t be playing with someone at all.

I’m not negotiating this well and I need to change that.

Lessons hurt. I hate learning lessons. Fuck opportunities for growth. FUCK THEM WITH A POGO STICK.

Do you know what would make all of this easier? If I were less fucking hypersensitive. But if that were true in one area I’d be a lot less sensitive in other areas.

I don’t actually want to stop being who and what I am. I like being sensitive. I like that I react strongly to my perceptions of peoples feelings. That often goes well. But sometimes I’m tired and I read something wrong.

Yeah. That happens.

Uhh… I do better in person. Where I can look at facial expressions and eventually feel comfortable asking millions of questions. I do have to warm up to the questions though. I am actually kind of shy at first.

I don’t want to scare you off. I want you to volunteer stuff. No one ever tells me enough about themselves.

Oh they tell me more than enough about their hobbies. I want to hear about you.

I know it is kind of weird how much I actually like people. But I’m not playing. I do.

I don’t want you to be in a room with me so you can act out my fantasy. I want to be in a room with you so I can see you more fully developed as a character of your own. If you talk fast the whole time I get more of a picture of who you are. (I like turns to talk too. Don’t worry. I know how to talk fast.)

I’m high maintenance. I want understanding and that mandates intense communication. I’m not comfortable. I don’t exist near people to feel comfortable in their presence. That is not how life goes for me. I am not comfortable.

I am with you because I want to understand you. Because I find you compelling. Because I want to know you. Because I want you.

I may not understand what that means. I probably don’t. I will ask for things. I wish you would ask more so that every step of verbal negotiation didn’t come from me.

That is true so much and it scares me because when I am always always always the leader how do I know I am doing what people want instead of dragging them through things they may not be completely on board for doing?

Trust people to be grown ups?

hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Sorry, gotta catch my breath.

Phew. Laughing that hard is dangerous. I’m going to bust a rib.

People laugh at me when I say “when I grow up” in reference to my future research. They ask me if I’m grown now. No. I’m not.

I don’t know many grown ups. And I don’t know many people my age or younger. I chase an older crowd and I always have. Guess what. Most of them are not grown up. I mean, they are grown. They are “adults”.

We are all fucking up and growing.

We aren’t done growing up.

I know… a few. They are inspiring and intimidating as fuck to me.

Hands hurt too much to go into that.

Hunting lessons…

Wanting is hard. Wanting is scary. The rejection isn’t the scary part. The scary part is the terror that I will hurt people. I will hurt people. Not because I will hit them (though I will) but because I will say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing or ask for something in a way they don’t feel comfortable refusing and they will feel regret and I will feel shame.

That’s gonna happen.

That is part of hunting.

That fuck up. It is inherent. Other people minimize their risk by looking for one lifetime target and calling it good.

I… like to learn lessons. I have so much to learn. There is so much I want to know. There are so many situations I need to be able to have absolute control over my reaction no matter what physical or emotional stress is going on that I have to perfect this.

I have to. This is going to be necessary for me as a grown up. I am going to need to have 100% control over my reactions. I will need to know “I don’t open my email until I’ve had at least 20 hours of sleep out of 72.”

I need to know myself.

Noah didn’t think the messages sounded the way I read them. It took a lot of explaining and whining and telling back story before he went, “Oooooohhhh… ok. I can see how you read it that way.”

So it was a stretch that was only possible because I’m so awesome.

God I’m ridiculous.

No. I just have a long and complex story and I’m reacting as if all if it is true in every moment of every day and those filters are better and worse based on factors like sleep. Ahem.

Other people can handle sleep deprivation. Great for them.

I can’t.

But there is so much fun to be had in the middle of the night.

I have five solid nights in a row where I’m staying home and getting sleep before our next night out.

But then a different party is the next day.

Fuck. Ok. I need a break after that. I iz at capacity. Ow. I found it. Noah told me he thought I would.

I wanted to see where it was now. I found it. Ow. I’m old.

Why didn’t I want to go to a dark place? I don’t know. It wasn’t that the pain level was beyond my capacity. I never got near an 8. I just…

I don’t know.

It didn’t feel that way. It didn’t feel like that was what was appropriate in the setting? I don’t know.

I need help going on a journey. If I’m going to stand somewhere and just… do what I do… that…. uhhhh… varies.

It is wildly unpredictable.

I also have a really hard time with feeling like I am topping from the bottom. Noah and I have had a hard time figuring this out. I… don’t know how to gracefully lead as a bottom. I suck. So either I shut my fucking mouth and smile as the top decides what is going to happen next or… things get kind of awkward and tense and I spend the rest of the scene feeling bad.

So yes. Sometimes I don’t know what to say.

Even me. I get tongue tied. It is true. I feel like a jukebox waiting for someone to pick a song to play. I don’t know what to say. I don’t have any idea of what would be pleasing. I have such a short window of time in which to try to be pleasing…

I’m afraid of picking wrong.

It isn’t that I’m trying to make up a story to tell. It is that I don’t know which version of myself to start with. There are so many. The order in which I present them matters. It can lead to increased intimacy or it can lead to things like, “I need you to stop telling me about your background. I don’t really want to know.”

This is why Noah and I spend so much time during sex talking about previous sex we have had either with one another or with other people.

I know that I will only learn how to read these things better by running into these walls at full speed so I see all the signals all the way up to long past when I “should” have stopped so that in the future I will understand that danger signals much earlier and have a stronger need to distance myself fast. I know this is “safe” practice.

But I’m so tired of being disappointing. I’m so tired of having people forcefully shove me away because I am wrong.

Asking, wanting, desiring always means risk. It always means possible rejection or unmatched interest or pain.

Always.

Is it worth it?

Even though I’m still tired and even though I still have turbulent feelings…

Yes.

All of it. All of them. Every lesson. Every experience. I’m not sorry I asked. I’m sorry if me asking was done badly. I’m sorry if I asked in a way that did not support people telling me no when they should have or if they really wanted to in the fullness of time. I’m sorry that I will keep making mistakes.

But I’m not sorry enough to stop.

I want to learn this.

I will make mistakes. So will other people. I will get up. I will try again if they are game.

I want.

But first I want more sleep.

 

Sleep. That’s the ticket.

2 Replies

In the past 49 hours I’ve slept 11 hours. I also wrote a four page whiny screed today about my feeeeeeeelings. I’m not posting it. I’m tired.

Thanks to the folks who were patient with me today. I uhhh will be over this soon. I’m sorry. I… should have just not talked at all on a day when I got this little sleep.

I am medicating and going to bed. That seems wise. Tomorrow will be another day fresh with patience.

First date: cupid

1 Reply

Well. That didn’t go as planned. I’m not entirely sure what I planned but that wasn’t quite it.

I arrived on time. I arrived shaking and freaked out. Am I talking someone into doing something they don’t really want to do? I’m feeling very worried about this. I’m scared I’m pushing people.

When I got to the door I asked him if we could sit for a minute and talk before we got started. He looked concerned. I asked him if he was sure he wanted to be here because in the past I have pushed people to do things they didn’t actually want to do and I don’t want to do that anymore.

He smiled at me. He wanted to do this.

We talked a little bit more and then moved into the play area. He had me immediately strip. He put cuffs on my ankles and wrists and attached me to a frame. My legs were spread far enough that standing was uncomfortable pretty much the whole time. My arms were spread wide enough that mid-way I had to ask that my arms be lowered because my shoulder wussed out.

Wussing out was a theme of the night.

He was really nice. He gave me a long, slow warm up with lots of canes. He went through so many toys, I can’t begin to remember them all. My favorite things were the punching and the mallet. Because getting hit with a mallet is awesome.

I still don’t process sting very well. I’m a thuddy girl.

He used a deerskin flogger for a while and I was shocked by how well that went. The cat of nine tails, not so much. Ow, motherfucker.

This was an unusual beating for me. I scheduled it hoping to cry. By the time I got there I was nervous and high strung and… on the verge of crying. So once we got started playing it morphed quite a bit.

I don’t know that I’ve ever laughed that much while being hit before. I felt giddy. It was funnier than hell. I almost fell over once or twice from laughing so hard. I don’t know why it was that funny. But it was lovely.

I didn’t go to a dark place and I’m not sad. Instead my nice friend beat me until I was ready to beg him to fuck me. (Our safeword.)

That was quite a fuck too. I haven’t had sex while locked in an uncomfortable position in many years. There was gear involved and positioning I’m not going to try to explain right now because holy crud tired.

Oh so hot.

I am so tired I feel like I could melt. Today is a scheduled tile day. My body is sore. I want pictures of the bruising but I haven’t taken them  yet.

Cupid agrees that I am not a pain slut. I might be a masochist, but there are degrees here. I only seem like such a heavy masochist because normally I play with mild to moderate sadists. Perspective matters.

I had to cry uncle. I just… didn’t want to be hit any more. I was done.

He didn’t kiss me at all until the scene and the sex was over. That was hot and hard at the same time. It felt like the old days. I’m not used to that any more.

We snuggled and talked afterwards. Of course I’m worried I talked too much and I said a bunch of shit he doesn’t care about. I can’t worry about that too much. He invited me back.

I liked the way he looked at me. I’ll be back.

I am feeling very lucky and blessed. I came home and had an intense conversation with Noah about what all is going on here. What kinds of limits and boundaries are important to us. How is that shifting? What are we going to do?

Of course we ended this with wicked hot sex. Like we do.

Now I need to stop typing before my arms stage a revolt.

All the feelings.

2 Replies

Do you know what the most common question I’m getting right now is? “How’s Noah?” I keep telling people that if they are worried they should ask him and not trust my reporting. It doesn’t matter if I say he laughed.

I could be lying you know. Ok, so he leaves comments here when I say something he disagrees with so I probably couldn’t get away with huge lies. But if they were funny Noah might let them slide.

What is love anyway? I have spent a lot of time wondering. So do most people, near as I can tell.

I don’t think that love is the same thing as wanting to rub sticky bits together. Is love that feeling where you want them to be as safe and happy as possible–even if that means not-you doing it?

Sometimes I say that I don’t fall out of love. I’m having a problem with my former Owner. He’s… he is the kind of guy who is prone to telling jokes that are a problem for me. It’s not that he’s a bad person. It’s that I can’t have men walking past my scenes yelling, “Hit her harder” because that creates a culture where treating me like that is acceptable. You can’t model that behavior in front of strangers. It’s not ok. If I didn’t like him I’d chew him a new asshole and move on with my life.

The trouble is, I love him a lot. I don’t know how to effectively communicate what I need without exploding because my feelings about him are all so intense. My response on day one of this was to kick him in the shins. Hopefully he will be more amenable to a conversation next time?

You can’t encourage casual public disrespect of me. Nope.

I don’t give a shit how much I love you. Nobody talks to me like that.

I don’t want to stand up to him. He was my Owner. He was my first Daddy. He was my best friend for many years. I want to just gaze at him adoringly like a puppy forever. But those fucking stupid jokes.

Fuck.

Come on motherfucker.

What does it mean to love people? I think about this so much. The way I love Jenny is not how I love Sarah is not how I love Kira is not how I love my submissive is not how I love Noah is not how I love my Daddy’s.

I even love all of my Daddy’s differently. They provide different kinds of nurturance to me. Different Daddy’s pay attention to different parts of me. They care about my physical or emotional health differently.

What does love mean?

Does it mean that you want to have connection with people because you believe you have something to give them or does it mean connection because you need to receive from them? I don’t know.

I have spent most of my life feeling guilty because few relationships are reciprocal. They instead usually go in one direction or another and then you need other relationships to balance the rest of your needs. I feel so bad about the relationships where people mostly give to me. I feel like a user.

But I know that I have lots of relationships as the giver. Where is the balance? I’ve always had relationships where I receive, I’d be dead without them. But I don’t feel good about them. I always feel ashamed.

I’m having complex feelings about what my submissive wants to give to me. I don’t understand it yet. I can’t see it. I can’t wrap my head around it. I don’t understand someone being that focused on giving to me. I don’t have any understanding of what it is going to look like.

I get the sex. The everything else confuses me. If what we were doing was just me beating the shit out of him because that is fun I’d get it. I’d feel like it was about something I had to give. It isn’t about that though. That’s part of it. He wants that. But it is something different too and I don’t know what it is.

I want it. Whatever it is, I want it.

“How is Noah?” I feel like I should make personal cards for Noah just so I can give his contact information to the people I’m fucking so they can check in on their own since they are so paranoid.

He doesn’t want to write publicly about how he is doing. I can’t make him. It’s uncomfortable but he’s riding the waves.

He’s waiting to see what will happen. I am too.

I’ve been listening to this Reba song a lot.

NRE (New Relationship Energy) is a potent drug. I’m sipping deep. It’s better for me than almost any other kind of drug.

Danger Will Robinson. Danger.

I’m not afraid of being alone. I’m afraid of running out of connection to people. I’m not afraid of being alone. Sometimes being alone is the best thing. Even when I’m alone I want to feel loved. Hell, if I’m alone in a room with a computer and an internet connection I’m never alone.

How much of loving people is just wanting to keep seeing them in the world doing whatever it is that they want to do?

I don’t want you to be like me. I want you to be like you so that I can adore you. I do adore you.

I’m feeling scared of loving people. I want it and I’m afraid.

I am afraid of loving too much or not enough. Does love mean wanting to hurt someone? Does love mean wanting to hear all the stories about them parenting because that tells you so much about how they care for people around them?

The older I get the more someone being a good parent is a ridiculous turn on. It isn’t that I want to make babies with you (Factory is closed) but the fact that you have that kind of love to give… can I touch you?

That’s coming up in a few places with a few people. I’m getting ridiculously into parents. I don’t think it is just my impregnation obsession. Good parents are good people.

Years ago my shrink told me that you can’t tell if someone is a good person based on what their friends or their coworkers say. Find out what their kids think of them. I think about that often and I’m trying to ensure that I make sure my kids see the best I have to offer in this life.

What does that leave left over for Noah, my submissive, the deity, other people who want a piece of me…

But what about me? What about what I want? I want 9 day weeks and 30 hour days. I want everyone I want to fuck to live within walking distance of my house.

Sigh.

More than once in the past week I’ve had a sad thought about this phase of promiscuity. I’m going to hit a wall: the driving will kill me. Shit.

Oh I’m getting old. The biggest thing preventing me from getting laid more is that the driving hurts my back. suck

Not that I need to get laid more, exactly. Frequency isn’t the problem. (Thank you Noah.) It’s the difference. It’s the different conversations. It’s the different kinds of permission. Noah gives me permission to be or do anything he can think of. The only trouble is the limit of his imagination. Other people think of different things.

Other people want different things so they think of them. So they suggest them to me. I like that kind of cycle.

I want to be so many things. I hope that in the fullness of time even my unpredictability will become predictable.

Goodness. Speaking of love. And because I am shallow. I have the fancy dress I will wear for the rest of my life. Apparently I like the Regency period. So the fancy gown is almost kinda like this style  because it has a green silk under skirt that is a full slip with a sheer over gown. The over gown is sheer and separate so I can wear it as the sole piece above the corset dress because being able to see the corset dress through the sheer mock up was so hot that the dress maker said, “Oh it’s a shame you can’t wear it like that later” and I said, “…… Could I?”

We talked. Yes. Yes I can. The nice man who is making my dress was a costumer for the opera house for thirty years. He went and found a nice Regency pattern to follow. The back is entirely lace up so that as I go up and down in weight (like I do) I can wear this pretty much for the rest of my life.

And the petal skirt… oh the petal skirt will be so pretty.

I’m a dork but I’m really excited about this. It feels like picking the costuming I want to have represent me. This is going to be clothing I wear a lot forever. I am paying too much money for this to be something I don’t use much. I need to get several decades of hard wear out of this for it to be worth the money.

I really like it. I like that it can be worn in many ways. Corset dress. Green silk slip dress (which may be wearable on its own). Sheer over dress (oh the sleeves are so pretty… and it trails just a touch in the back). Petal skirt (which can be worn over the corset or over the over gown). Then the jacket. The jacket is gorgeous.

So red. So “Hi. I’m here.” Red. Red. Red.

Noah wanted me to get married in red. I compromised. The jacket is red. The rest of the outfit is white and green and red. Because I’ve got this Wonderland garden thing.

I’ve gotta say, when I was looking in the mirror at the corset dress… the first thing I thought was, “Oh I’d fuck me.”

lol

I’m funny. Seriously though. I corset well. I cinch down to a 14″ difference between my waist and hips without effort. That’s hot.

I didn’t pick this body. But if I’m stuck with it I will find things to like about it. I am going to have to practice how to walk in the corset dress. So far I’m stiff and awkward. If I want to look graceful it will take effort. Just like I’m practicing with this damn red lipstick. I’m getting better.

I should… go do stuff.

Who the hell do I think I’m kidding.

Leave a reply

Sure…. I won’t fuck my submissive. Right. Yeah. That’ll last till the first time he is naked, humping my leg and telling me how much he loves me.

I have no self control.

Oh that was nice. Wonderful, dreamy, loving and mean as hell. He is covered in bite marks that I could not handle at all. If someone bit me that hard I would probably whack their head hard enough to make their ears ring. But he didn’t mind me doing it.

Hot.

This is so nice.

On other nights I have theoretically thought, “Meh. I don’t want to tell someone they have to fuck me harder… I just want them to want to do that.”

Tonight I didn’t fucking mind one little bit.

Tying him up at Wicked Grounds was fun, but not nearly exciting as following him home.

When I say I need more lube and someone jumps off me to start going down on me with that much enthusiasm… yeah… that’s alright.

I haven’t been rimmed in years. That was also…. quite alright.

I liked it when he bit my nipples. Just a little. Not enough to be trying to hurt me. Just enough to make me squeak.

I like squeaking.

I’m feeling… like… I’m kinda ridiculous. I have no self control at all when it comes to fucking. I mean… I do. There are lots of people I’m not fucking.

But when it’s people I’m already in love with who are telling me over and over how much they love me?

No self control.

I want that.

Yes. Give me more.

More.

More.

I want that. I want you to tell me how much you want me. How beautiful I am. How much you love me.

Yes.

I’m feeling no draw whatsoever to find someone who will make me chase them because they aren’t that into me. Oh good grief no. Why would I waste my time?

It’s raining men. Hallelujah.

I am feeling no end of fortunate right now. And I have another date on Sunday.

/me dances all over the room

Sunday’s date says he will decide if I can write about him after we play. Well fine then. He’s also debating letting me use his name. Which will make several of you raise your eyebrows and go, “Wait… him?”

Yeah. Him.

I started it.

I started feeling interested in him before I got married. I sorta hinted I was interested in playing but I didn’t have enough courage to be forceful then and nothing happened. Then after I was married he asked me to play and I didn’t manage to arrange it during our last stepping out period.

Then I ran into him recently. I uhhhhh was very interested.

So I sent an offer that was fairly respectable from me. I’ve been way more pathetically desperate in my neediness in the past. I’ve slowly increased the raunch at a somewhat reasonable level. I think?

At this point I’m being pretty… graphic… but given what I’m hoping he will do to me, that seems appropriate.

Noah… thank you. Thank you for saying that I can go do whatever the hell I want so I can figure out what the hell do I want?

I don’t even know. I thought I would have a lot more fun telling my submissive no. Then I had a hot naked man telling me he loved me and yeah no.

/me flops to the floor in a heap

I want all the love. All of it. Alllllllllllllllllllllll of it.

I’m tired of saying no.

I don’t want to say no. I want to say yes.

You know what…

I feel like I don’t want to die.

There is no deserve in life. I am not getting these good things because there is justice or because I was carefully weighed and measured and found worthy.

Life is fucking unfair.

But the wheel has turned. I have so much to look forward to.

I get to go forward and say yes to the experiences I want to have. That’s been building in a variety of ways over the last fifteenish years.

I don’t want to say no. Except when I do. And when I say no I’m ok with backing it up with physical force and/or (preferably) long philosophical conversations about why folks need to change their ways.

I can say no. I do it when I want to.

I told the neighbor no in no uncertain terms.

I’m really not interested in folks who are younger than me. I’ve actually turned down several direct propositions in the last week. Err, I didn’t bother to mention them Noah because they were so young I didn’t consider them seriously.

I mean, a 30 year old. Me? No.

Cradle robbing.

I am so funny.

(Ok another one was 23 and holy shit for shoe shine no.)

It isn’t that I can’t say no. It is that I don’t want to say no to people who love me and who are very nice to me.

I’m going to pay for this sleep loss. But I feel like I’m glowing. I feel like it will be easier to say no to things I don’t want. Because there is such a clear distinction between what it feels like to want to say yes.

I wanted the sex tonight. It wasn’t just that I wanted to have sex. I could have been at home having sex with Noah. I wanted to have sex with my submissive. Why. Why. Do I feel like I’m leaving him out and that’s not fair?

No… that’s not it. I mean… I did have the thought.

But no. I wanted to have sex with him. It was hot. He wanted to please me and he succeeded. It was so different from the deity.

I….

Shut up Krissy. No. Don’t do that.

Just say yes. Just say thank you.

Just be grateful you don’t have to pick. Comparison is stupid.

Then what the fuck is up with the Top 5?

Err. It’s not really about comparison exactly. It’s about acknowledging degree of compatibility. I’ve had sex with a lot of people. I know which ones I can go back to most reliably because our interests align.

I find it uhm distinctive that most of my Top 5 has either been through specific treatment for sex addiction or they’ve considered whether that might be true for them.

I have preferences, ok.

We live in a world that says that people like us, the kind of people who go out and fuck hundreds of people are broken. What if we are just like this? If we are safe, and most of us are quite safety conscious, are we just ok?

If I want to love me–is this part of it?

Promiscuity has been part of my life for more than three decades now. In the sense that other people would understand only two decades but I think all that oral counts.

I like variety in sex in a way that most people don’t. When you look at statistics and there are a bunch of guys who claim they’re having lots of sex but you wonder who it is with? It’s with me.

I’m kidding.

Sorta.

I wonder a lot about us outliers. I ask other promiscuous people lots of questions: Why do you do it?

I get some interesting answers. Maybe I’ll tell you in a few more decades when people won’t get so pissed off at me for breaking confidence. It’s too soon. We are still living our stories. It’s not ok for me to talk about them yet. It’s funny how I do these boundaries.

It’s funny what I say and what I don’t say. Lies. Lies of omission. It’s only a sin if you are ashamed to admit you did it.

I skip saying that much about the kids because boundaries.

But uhm if you fuck me then you are crossing into my writing world. Hi.

Because I want to think about you. I want to think about why I want you so much. I want you all for different reasons. I’m not nearly as free as you think I am with telling you why I want you. I can only tell you a small bit to start with.

I’m afraid to tell you all of why I want you. I don’t trust you. I know that doesn’t sound nice. It’s true anyway.

I’d rather piss you off than lie.

What to say. What not to say. Lies.

The process of writing is a process of creation of self. At least for me. I hear those fiction writers are off on some other weird ass trip. Whatever. That isn’t my gift this lifetime.

I kinda wish. Shit it would be nice to get out of my head.

But if I want to deliver the behavior I want to deliver during the variety of environments I will encounter in this life… I need to keep working on a variety of kinds of self control. I often feel abashed about how much of my parenting skills I learned in the bdsm community. I learned how to negotiate. I learned how to read body language and talk about emotional responses to sensations without framing everything as trauma. I learned how to talk about what it feels like to experience something in my body. I learned how to choose joyful shared catharsis instead of isolated self mutilation.

I’d much rather go ask a nice friend to beat me than cut myself. Quite frankly. Because after the beating I will strut like a peacock and get a lot of work done and feel all full of badassery.

After the cutting I will keep my mouth shut and my head down. I will do my best to be unseen. When I am tempted to speak I will touch the wounds and remind myself that it doesn’t matter what I think.

Why is it either/or?

You may not understand my brain chemistry. My hands hurt. I’m not up for that digression.

Suffice to say: the beating is just a better idea. But I so far I keep asking “mild to moderate” sadists and you know what… I’m wondering what lesson there is in that.

Who do I know who just goes to 11? Oh man. How many of those people do I think would actually stop if I said stop?

Uhhhh fuck.

Maybe it is so fucktastically healthy that I’m asking people who will probably max out before me and I need to cope or some shit.

Or keep asking around.

Goooooood grief Kristine.

Decide later. For now: go to bed. Yes I will masturbate first.

It’s raining men. Hallelujah.

(Thanks for the song introduction, Noah. You are so good at bringing things into my life.)

Then I came home

1 Reply

Do you know why I’m so happy to be married to Noah? Because when I got home from my date we went out to the garage to medicate and talk. (I medicate. He doesn’t.) I told him everything I could remember and be coherent about with regards to the date. What felt best. Why it was wonderful. (Ok I did take a shower first.)

When I ran out of ways to say, “Oh my god the deity is incredible” Noah transitioned into telling me stories of women he has dated. I have… traditionally not wanted to hear as much as Noah wants to hear about my stories. This time it went better than normal. It was very few minutes of him telling me things he has done before I really wanted his cock in my mouth.

So he kept telling me stories of getting his wicked way with women while I sucked him off for a while. That was hot. Wicked, incredibly hot. He can be a mean man and it is really hot.

He took me to bed and grinned over how raw and sore I was as he fucked me. He likes it when he doesn’t have to put in much effort to hurt me and make me come all at the same time. He says “Thanks, deity.”

I… I need to not have sex again before my Sunday date. That’s gonna hurt too and I need to heal a little. Not that I want to take 30 seconds off from fucking right now.

I’m in one of those phases. They’ve always ended in the past. For a while though… there will be no such thing as feeling like enough.

And today I get to go to Dark Garden for a fitting, then have lunch with Sarah, then see my submissive.

I feel so gloriously lucky. I feel so adored.

Between the fact that Noah has always been the head of the Krissy admiration society, and the fact that my submissive has been… feeling more ok being admiring, and how the deity talked to me last night?

This is why new people are less appealing. New people don’t love me this much. New people don’t spend excessive amounts of time narrating why I’m the best thing ever. Oh I love my handpicked list right now.

Well done, Krissy. You have gotten to the point of being ridiculously good at picking. Good job.

I no longer spend time with people who neg me. I don’t listen to insults, put downs, or people who want to denigrate me. I want to spend time with people who think I am the best damn thing since sliced bread.

And I get to. Pretty much every day of the week and some days of the week I get to stack wonderful people one right after another.

I feel so lucky. I feel so loved. I feel so well fucked.

Good grief I love my life. Thank you Noah. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I couldn’t be who I am right now without you. I was never able to let people be this nice to me before you.

I feel like I owe you everything. Thank you. Oh this is so fun.

First date: the deity.

Leave a reply

How do I even begin this review? Uhm… it was good. Fantastic. Incredible. Four years of hype paid off.

Someone fell out of the Top 5 last night. They were replaced. Not telling you who because I’m barely tactful enough.

What was so good? Everything. Everything from the second minute I walked in until I left was that good.

Ridiculously good kisser. Our mouths are just the same size. I really like how much he uses his tongue. I like the way he uses his tongue. The kissing experience was just wicked good. I didn’t want to stop.

I am so happy that after that much lead up he seriously just said “How are you doing?” twice before starting to kiss me.

He wasn’t paying attention to the first answer because he was thinking about kissing me.

I was correct in my guess that this would be a French vanilla experience, but such a glorious experience.

I like how he pinches. I like his fingernails. I like the way he alternates fucking and pain. I like the way he fucks me.

Oh my goodness he felt good on top of me. Like, intensely overwhelmingly good. That was just a good fit.

I liked sucking his cock. I liked the noises he made.

I appreciated being allowed to put the condoms on because I just have more experience. Ha. I tried to be fun in the process.

He taunted me until I wanted him incredibly badly. Then he fucked me for a while. Then he took a break from fucking to hurt me more. Then he fucked me for a while. Then he came (glorious sounds–oh yes). Then he took a break to hurt me some more. Then he fucked me again.

Oh wow.

Do you know what completely knocks someone else out of the Top 5? The talking. Oh the deity gives good talk. He wasn’t even very repetitive. Good whore/good girl/ Oh my god you’re so responsive were the main repeats and otherwise he said a variety of complimentary things.

I don’t remember when I’ve been so complimented. He thinks I live up to the hype and make no mistake. I felt so adored.

I feel like I want to go back.

He said so many nice things and I really liked the way he hurt me. And even though in general I’m really content with the size of Noah’s cock…

it was hot to feel split open. It’s always funny when guys are like, “What do you mean I have a big cock?” Know how I can barely get my hand around it? That means it is big. Know how you have to buy Magnums? THAT MEANS IT IS BIG.

hahahahahahaha

I am fairly terrified that he wants to put that in my ass. Oh. My. God. I’m not sure that is going to work.

But everything else was so hot that I’m ok with him trying in the future. He’ll just have to be incredibly patient and slow. Luckily he showed me last night that it is fairly likely to go well.

I have so long until our next date. At least I know what I’ll get for my anticipation. Fucked six ways from Sunday in a truly delicious manner.

I can’t wait to kiss him again. I feel like I want to drown in kissing him. I want more I want more I want more.

I like what he did with his hands, his words, his cock. Oh I want more.

Please. More.

Here I was wondering if I’d be all “Meh. Once is good.” Once is not enough. I have no idea how much will be enough.