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So something is happening with penetrative sex that has not ever happened before. I'm not quite sure what to do about it. What's happening, you ask? Well...it hurts. The vaginal walls and muscles are NOT STRETCHING the way they should when being penetrated.

As in, either I somehow got tighter than a virgin or Jesse's dick grew another inch around and longer.

I'd thought "Okay, well, you haven't had sex in, like, a year. So you probably just need a little more lube than usual." I ALWAYS use lube, because a 35 year old body just doesn't produce lubrication the same way a 20 year old body does. Basic science, no moral judgement there.

(Well, no moral judgement except to the assholes who have been, in my life, OFFENDED that I used lube. As if the sight of their cock should somehow override biology. Fuck those dudes. Lube rules.)

Anyways, it turns out the extra lube, though, is not helping. Sliding down, even the simple act of penetration hurts enough to make me wince - and not in that good way.

I don't think vaginas can tighten up that much and Jesse's dick has not gotten bigger. So what is happening and how can I make sex more comfortable for myself? It's not lack of foreplay, because after all these years of body-boundaries, I REFUSE to have penetrative sex unless I really, really want to.

So if I'm climbing aboard the Cock Train, it means that I am ready and raring to go, engines gunning at full speed.

Except my body, by sending pain signals from my brain to my twat, disagrees. Why?

I'm going to bring this up with my doctor (it's possible this is medicine side effect), but I also thought you guys might have some ideas on what's going on and how to fix this.

Sex has never hurt like this before, and I'm doing all the usual things people say to do when it hurts. Use lube. Have more foreplay. Try different positions. It still hurts.

And it sucks, because I really want to start having regular sex again. Ideas? Suggestions? Similar experiences? A happy, warm speculum? Something?
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But what I didn't know until last night was that laughter can also be a powerful aphrodisiac.

After a month resisting watching anything creepy, I finally felt comfortable enough to watch a show Jesse had said I would love. "The Santa Clarita Diet", a show about an undead woman and her supportive family. (I'm into funny zombie shows lately.) It's morbid. It's bloody. It's sarcastic and shriek inducing at all levels.

And it was FUCKING HILARIOUS. The humor is all gallows humor, all quick retorts, sarcasm, and the hilarity of normal people getting thrown into very ABnormal situations. I loved it. That's MY kind of humor! I watched 5 episodes in a row, which is damn near unheard of.

And so I laughed. Laughed so hard that I thought I might crack my rib open again. And about halfway through, I realized that I was feeling so good that I wanted to bone Jesse. That I had THE ENERGY to bone Jesse. This is the first time in eight months that the desire to have sex and the ENERGY to have sex have lined up in unison.

So I did. I even initiated! That alone is a sign of wildly good health returning. I am not broken! I DO have a sex drive. I just haven't had the energy to do anything with it.

And then I watched something side-splittingly hilarious (in this case, concerning the broken rib, perhaps literally) and realized that maybe, just maybe, I need to do more things that make me laugh. More things that make me feel delight.

It was such a wonderful return to not only sexual activity, but in finding humor and joy in such a terribly morbid show. That feels like me.

The day had even started in an equally wonderful place, as I had woken up with enough energy to do six loads of laundry, an hour of errand running, and regular cleaning. I even got the KITCHEN, which is usually Jesse's zone to take care of.

(He's been in a lot of pain these days, so when I can, I try to make his day a little easier. Do the dishes. Set up the coffee pot so all he has to do to get fresh coffee is to flip the ON switch. Stuff like that.)

One thing I am learning with the lupus fatigue is that when you have the spoons, you damn well better bust your ass and get as much done as you can possibly get done - because there is no guarantee you will have that kind of energy tomorrow, or the day after, or even for WEEKS after.

It can lead to pushing too hard, which I realize today will be spent "making up" for all that activity with some serious bed rest, but goddamn, it was SO FUCKING WORTH IT.

I'm coming back. It's still a long road ahead, with plenty of bad days and angry entries and assuredly more hospital stays to feed the fire of frustration. But last night proved I am not broken.

I'm sick.

Not irreparable.
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So I just spent an hour doing a blue, green, and white eyeshadow scheme - complete with my signature heavy-as-shit cat's-eye eyeliner, of course. I'll be a bit miffed if I have to wash it off for an interview, but I - ha, as if. I'd be fucking thrilled at this point to wash my face for an interview.

But whatevs. A few days ago, when Pat came over, I disappeared into the bathroom. About ten minutes later I stuck my head out and said "I'll be out in a minute, I swear!" Patrick wondered aloud whatever in the world I was doing that was taking so long.

I leaned further out of the bathroom and shook my Wet 'N Wild, Noire Black, Waterproof eyeliner at him. "Liquid self-esteem", I said. Ah, he said. I ducked back into the bathroom.

I've decided I want to learn how to use blush. Given that I would eagerly trade several years off my life for truly porcelain skin, I generally avoid the cheek color. Eyeshadow color is fine. Preferable, even. So is super bright lipstick. But skin? No thanks. I want a'la el corpsified, thankyouverymuch. I did experiment with using gray eyeshadow for blush in high school, but that actually alarmed my teachers. For fear of being sent to the nurse, I didn't do that more than a couple of times.

But I figure it couldn't hurt to know how to apply blush. Off to Youtube tutorials I will go when I get the chance. Although blush baffles me in the whole terminology sense. Brush the color towards the apple of your cheeks. Wtf is the apple of your cheeks? Since when did I have to start knowing the layout of fruit to apply makeup?

Makeup's a big part of me, which made the year I spent single and makeup-less so astounding. I tend to go dramatic, gothy eye patterns and punky bright colors, with, like, SUPER HEAVY eyeliner. I did have to give up the mascara once I got glasses. It just gets smeared on the lenses and requires a sandblaster to get off.

Due to my makeup being so heavy and so dramatic, though, I really DO look different with it. It's part of what made me believe Jesse when he said I was beautiful, as I had been barefaced that entire summer. The only time I'd put on makeup at all was for my LJ videos, because hey, super vain me is super vain. Jesse didn't see me in makeup until something like the fourth or fifth day after we'd struck up acquaintances.

Okay, I know my neighbors are deaf and that deaf people, not being able to hear themselves well (if at all) are prone to making strange sounds. But they are SO REPETITIVE. For hours. Whooping in the same, three tonal shout. For hours on end, day in, day out, for the months since they'd moved in. Are they watching the football game? Are they having sex? What are they doing and WHY CAN'T THEY MAKE DIFFERENT NOISES ONCE IN A WHILE?!

So alright, yeah, I'm an asshole. Freely admitted. Deaf people are minorities and I ought to be nicer to them. They actually have a good market cornered on minorities, actually. They are a lesbian, Mexican, deaf couple. The only thing that could make them more a minority is if they were Jewish. To which, for all I know, they might be.

Still doesn't stop me from wanting to soundproof my balcony so I cannot hear them when my door is open. On the other hand, it makes me feel A LOT better about the loud sex Jesse and I have, as they obviously can't hear it as much as our other neighbors can.

Yeeeeah, he and I kind of have a reputation in this hallway. Anytime we (well, Jesse) befriends a neighbor, and we tell them which apartment is ours, their eyes get big and they go "OH! So YOU guys are the - ???" And we laugh sheepishly and go "Yeah. Yeah, that's us."

(Ya'll on my Flist that I've slept with, ya'll know what I mean. I couldn't be quiet if I WANTED to.)

(It just occured to me that I CAN say "ya'll on my Flist that I've slept with. Ya'll as in plural." Am I the company-slut of LJ or what? Hahahahaha.)

There are certainly worse reputations to have in an apartment complex. And I've found people are far more willing to put up with sex-screaming as opposed to domestic-abuse screaming, which was that young couple - the 18 year old pregnant girl and her boyfriend - were in this hallway. Or the crack house of the hallway, as I was about 15 years ago.

What I am these days is much better. I certainly enjoy myself more for the reputation I have these days.
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Morning. Headache. Ow. Today I will be off to housesit for Amanda, who has an amazing wifi connection AND kitties AND super comfortable Dr. Who blankets - the fuzzy kind that feel like you're wrapping yourself up in a hug.

It's going to be a good day. Once this headache eases, at least.

A couple of days ago something entirely new happened for Jesse. We had a Sex Fail. You know the kind, where both of you REALLY want to get it on, but no matter what you try, how many positions you go through, or how erogenous the zones you are touching usually are, it's just not happening. Where bodies become awkward and any kind of immediate lustful drive sort of dribbles off because neither of you can get comfy.

This is a normal occurrence for human beings. Everybody has days where your body is just not lining up with your mind. I've had tons of these. So has Jesse. That wasn't the new part for him.

The new part was that instead of continuing in awkwardness, or instead of retreating to seperate rooms to be confused and frustrated, we both looked at each other, shrugged, and went "Okay, we'll try tomorrow." He sat in his computer chair, I sat on the couch, and we picked up the conversation we were having before we got naked.

It was so comfortable, Jesse said. He didn't feel weird about it. He felt at ease, like his body was accepted and loved, even if it wasn't working right. I nodded and said that my body wasn't quite working right, either, and that to assign blame to it, or to act as if something were Really Wrong would be silly. "It's just bodies", I said to him. "It just the way bodies work sometimes."

We are both adults. We've both been having sex for a good long while. We are no strangers to this sort of thing. It is good to relax, even when - especially when - Sex just sort of Fails for the evening. It happens.

It's funny - while I arrived to the Sex Games later than almost anyone I know (I didn't lose my virginity until I was 18), I have had more sex than almost every lover of mine. (Sans a few of the older ones, who've had more partners by sheer virtue of having a couple of decades on me.) I've heard this is not uncommon with women, that women tend to be the gender that racks up more sexual partners overall than men. But counting the wild recklessness of my youth, the sleeping around I did to obtain drugs, the sex I had in early recovery, and the sex prompted by my later discovery of kink...well, I've got quite a number tallied. I suppose it's good that I can still count that number, but overall, it's up there.

A few of my more astute lovers have said that they were glad I'd had such sexual experience, as I've occasionally taught THEM new things. Sexual experimentation is FUN. And a great deal of that sex was not done in an unhealthy manner or prompted by a need to mistreat myself. Most of the sex in years past was a simple enjoyment of sex, of my body, of just doing what felt good with people who made me feel good.

David was the only person who was bothered by my previous sexual experience. Insert Rage Here )

Oh man, having written this out I am feeling very angry. I suppose that's okay. I'm at Amanda's and she has two kitties. Two kitties who love to take naps. Two kitties, super comfy couches, and fuzzy Dr. Who blankets.

I'll be alright. A hell of a lot better, actually, now without that fucking asshole in my life. I've got SO MUCH VENOM in me about him. But I've got the antidote, too. That's this, you guys, and kitties.

And fuzzy Dr Who Blankets. That helps, too.
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There's A LOT to think about, what you guys said about Jesse, medication, helping partners. That's big enough as to where I've got a separate window open right now, writing it out. For the moment, though -

I wake with a sore neck and sore thighs. The results of over-vigorous, uh, lovemaking. I sometimes need to remind myself that I'm not 20 anymore. And yeah, I am out of shape for my age, but there are still positions that aren't quite as easy as they used to be.

That's been an interesting thing about dating Jesse. Due to some of his disabilities, some traditional sexual positions and acts are difficult, if at all possible for him. We've had to learn how to work around it. To find NEW ways of positioning ourselves, of exerting ourselves during sex. It sounds limiting, but it's actually been fun. It's been creative. I've discovered several new hotspots (both on him and I) than I knew with other partners.

I've also gotten A LOT better about being on top, a thing I previously sucked at.People with penises - peni?- I have a question for you ) It's a pretty one (that one I wore to the VNV Nation concert, Michael - the picture that you drew, Simon), but it is thick. Might be better on the neck muscles if I don't have that digging in.
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Ignore troll troller from last post. The dude/dudette is a small repeat offender (like I would imagine his dick being, but hey, speculation is speculation.) Ban and ban alike, I say.

I wound up having to pull the ripcord on Jesse and UniG playing together and may eventually even stamp out the three of us playing together. I was becoming jealous. I'm absolutely confused as to what happened or why I got jealous. I was just fine with it in the beginning. Even relieved to share the sexual obligations with another woman.

But over the last week, jealousy has begun making my stomach twist and curl when I am falling asleep. And I don't know what to do with it except to pull the relationship back around Jesse and I. I know better than to let it just go and hoping I'll feel better about it. Action is the name of this game. Circle the wagons, reestablish boundaries, talk and talk and talk about it.

Jesse is fine without it. Not even a sadface. I am so utterly relieved and I still trust him to follow the new restrictions when he's out with her. (I don't think I should tell him he can't hang with her. Adults don't ground each other from their friends. Right? Am I right in than that?????) I am still paranoid that he's just being nice for me about it. I couldn't deny him feeling disappointed.

So what the hell happened here? I was supposed to be the one most cool with it, considering it was my goddamn idea to start with. I was the one who pushed HIM into it. What the fuck happened????

Seriously. What the fuck happened here?
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So Jesse and I think we may have found a unicorn. What's a unicorn, you ask?

Female. Single. Bisexual. Kinky. The reason why the word "unicorn" is used is because it's so rare to find that combination. Mythical, damn near. And there's often a catch. There's likely a catch here. But for now, in the early stages of getting to know this young woman, it seems promising.

So, enter UniG (Unicorn Girl). Beautiful. Submissive. Curvy. A painslut. And the most awesome of all - she's a nerd. A real life, honest-to-God, motherfucking NERD. She reads books. She's into science fiction and anime. She can pontificate about sciency stuff. She's snarky, morbid, and is, all around, a person I can easily hang with. That's important to me when it comes to playtime. I need a partner with whom I can feel comfortable with AFTER the whip drops to the floor.

In essence, she's someone I can see becoming a friend. Someone I WANT to become friends with. I'm under no illusion that my added partners and I have to share deep bonds - but it's lovely when it does happen.

We (the three of us) had several hours worth of a conversation yesterday. Here are the things that are to be kept an eye on:

* She is young. 20 years old young. I know how intense EVERYTHING feels at that age. Jesse and I are both on detail to watch for feelings of hers, should they develop, and to respond appropriately. When I was 20 and sleeping with a man in his 40's, the sex and love got messily mixed up. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't mine - it was just my age. Young women fall into older men. That's just how it goes. So that's something I've brought up to Jesse and will speak with about to UniG. I also want to keep her age in mind when introducing her to new concepts and ideas, as 20 year olds process things a little differently than people Jesse's and I's age.

* She is very, very new to kink. She's had perhaps three or four sessions and never one with aftercare or multiple impact play toys. We did a lot of talking about things like safewords, listening to your own body, involuntary reactions, limits, etc. She had told Jesse at one point that she didn't have any limits, to which I responded "She has them, she just doesn't know what they are yet." So this will be exploration and something we have to keep an eye out for as well.

* I don't mind UniG and Jesse playing together when I'm not around. With my schedule being as chaotic as it is lately, it's nice to know that even if I hit a week where I don't feel like having any sexual activity at all, he can still get his - and get his with a girl that I am genuinely coming to like. The boundaries of no-actual-sex has been laid down. If he is going to be doing something without me, I would prefer to to be kink-only.

I know that sounds like a strange distinction, but it's how I'm comfortable with it.

* What other boundaries do you guys think I should have? Or things I should watch for?
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Kink.com - my FAVORITE porn site - has a documentary out on Netflix. Kink For Rent.

These are consummate professionals - and extremely ethical. For anyone wishing to learn more about the kink community (or, like Jesse and I, who are watching it cuz it makes for a romantic evening), definitely check it out.

Now to eat donuts on the bed with Jesse and watch a movie about the people who orchestrate my favorite kinks.
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I realized a few days ago that I have been doing a good deal of sexual healing over the last year. While alone, I spent the time cradling my own body, getting used to the freedom of choosing when I was sexual or not. And in this relationship with Jesse, it turns out I have that same freedom.

I didn't know it could be like that. Certainly not in the last six years. Patrick was very respectful, but with David, all confidence I had in my own sexual autonomy found itself in shreds. I was not respected and in fact, sex and my body found itself constantly being coerced.

We all know this. We were all there.

And I am here now, turning about in awe and wonder that one can be in a romantic relationship with someone and STILL have autonomy over their own body.

Things Jesse does not do that David did:

* He does NOT tell me I have the right to not want sex, and then follow me around the house groping me

* He does NOT hump me in my sleep, leading me to fall asleep as still as possible, thinking "If I stay really still, he won't notice me, he won't notice me, he won't notice me"

* He does NOT sulk, whine, or give me the silent treatment when I don't want to have sex

* He does NOT only touch me when he wants sex

The list could go on and on. But I no longer fall asleep rigid stiff, praying for invisibility. I can wander my home nude without worry that I will be followed, incessantly, relentlessly, by wandering hands. I can hug Jesse, kiss him, even make out with him, and not be crushed the weight of how I will be treated if I don't want to go further.

I didn't know it could be like this.

The funniest part of all this is because he respects me, I find myself WANTING to have sex. Lots of sex. Even as the honeymoon period has ended, we have sex 2 or 3 times a week. And I'm confident, for all the reasons listed above, that the weeks when it's only once a week, I will still be safe. I will still be loved.

David and I had sex less than a handful of times the last couple of years. Along with his massive mistreatment making it hard to feel sexual (I don't like fucking people who act like teenagers, I like to fuck adults, thankyouverymuch), his mistreatment of my body made it impossible for me to climb on top of him.

It's amazing to me how sexy respect is. All those years David spent manipulating and crossing me trying to get what he wanted, and here is Jesse, getting the best and most sex out of me than anyone in my ENTIRE life has gotten.

Make no mistake, respect, consent, and patience - those are a turn on. Turns out, a BIG turn on.
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It is raining. It's been raining all winter. No snow. No ice. Not even freezing rain. Just...rain. I slept long enough, though more RLS. I must get some Benadryl. I seem to recall that helping back on Abilify, Malakijr you're right. I could also probably call the clinic Monday and ask for a beta-blocker, so long as the RLS stays a mere side effect and NOT a warning for TD.

And thank you for those other recommendations, Malakijr. Those are some things I'm going to look at, too. I'm actually coming to like Seroquel, but that leg and body tenseness has got to be managed. The hunger pangs on it don't seem to be too bad. It doesn't make me hungry more often, but that it seems to take more to feel FULL.

So portion control it is. And being able to tell myself "Okay, body, that's like 800 calories, that's totally enough for your body for one meal. Really, you'll be fine. The next mealtime can be a light one and it's not far away anyways."

My nails destroyed themselves last night, so cut down to the tips they went. It's okay, they'd gotten long enough to get in the way of proper typing. And if there's ONE thing I must be able to do, for the sake of my sanity, it is typing.

I am ridiculously horny and unable to do a damn thing about it, as Jesse's son is asleep on my couch. It's a studio apartment, so there's no waking up Jesse without waking up his son.

Well, I did get smart and stashed one of my vibrators in the bathroom. Thank god that door locks.
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THE SET UP: Me, my boyfriend, my boyfriends roommate and my exhusband are all trying to decide where to go for dinner.

THE THOUGHT: I should really change out of these pajama pants and into some jeans. I'll go change in the bathroom so no one sees my butt.

THAT AWKWARD MOMENT WHEN: I realized that all three men in the room have already seen me bare-ass and spanked mercilessly.

So yeah. I did change my pants. In the bathroom. At least not all of them have seen me half naked at the same time.
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I rang in the New Year in a wonderful way - me, Jesse, his roommate, and a bunch of paddling and spanking. I'm still glowing.

It wasn't an impromptu thing. I'm VERY big on PLANNING things when it comes to including multiple people into my sex life. There were enormous amounts of conversations between Jesse and I, and even longer ones between his roommate and us. Hours and hours worth - which is how I like it.

I don't like surprise sexual encounters. I'm relieved and encouraged that Jesse and his roommate wanted to talk about all this first.

There was no real sexual contact, either, which I also loved. My top and underwear stayed on, everybody stayed clothed. In other words, it was about sharing the kink, which is exactly what I need out of a first join-up session.

This is where David and I went wrong. For me, including other people means kink, not necessarily sex. For him, it was about sex. Sex with people who had romantic intentions, no less. No one has romantic intentions towards each other here (save Jesse and I.) Boundaries are maintained this way.

It's like people can't conceive of the fact that you can have an orgasm without the orgasm, that you can enjoy yourself sexually and friendship wise without ever having to completely de-robe. Both Jesse and his roommate get that.

I fell into a hell of a lucky situation here.

And it was sweet, sweet in the very sort of bonding way. It was wonderful to see Jesse and his roommate bond over this, and wonderful to see his roommate explore his friendship with both of us this way. It was, in a grand way, a way for the three of us to get closer.

They were both so wonderfully respectful. Everybody checked in with each other. Aftercare was astounding. The beatings and commands were just as hard as I like them and the care around it was just as soft as I like it.

Now, I know the "watch for romantic tensions, for boundary slipping, etc etc." This is not a new situation for me. This is not my first rodeo in including other people. Not by a long shot.

But it is so damn wonderful to have people who are interested in sharing the KINK and not just my body.

So yeah. Happy New Year's folks. Here's to 2015, whatever that may bring. Hopefully, a lot more red asses, ha.
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(Link to NSFW site)

The Reality of being a Kinkster V.S the Fantasy.

Ya'll know what I'm talking about.


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Last night we had the "What happens if one of us fucks up" conversation. What happens if one of us fucks up with the BDSM, or in general, says something, does something horribly offensive and insensitive? Something like screws up in a boundary? Something like not honoring the safe word, which I did last night.

I feel so goddamn awful about that. I didn't even NOTICE the safeword, which makes it even worse. Our nonverbal safe word is a tap-out. Like, literally, tapping very fast on whatever body part of the other person we can reach. I got so wrapped up in what I was doing to him last night that I didn't even NOTICE that's what he was doing.

That's a fuck up. That's a BIG fuck up. He wasn't mad. He was very concerned and I'm pretty sure I didn't even give him good aftercare. I HAVE to work on that. That's a fuck up. That's a really big fuck up.

So when we had this conversation (actually earlier than the safe word), I had to come to realize that it will have to be okay. Or at least, that a fuck up isn't going to result in a swift and immediate breakup. Reading an article yesterday made me realize that being in a relationship - not even BDSM, just REGULAR living - means mistakes will happen. He's been so terrified of what will happen the first fight we have. I haven't exactly been reassuring about it, either.

That's not fair to him, or even on some level, to myself. So I tried to reassure him that I know accidents will happen. Toes will get stepped on. That's natural of any relationship. The point is, as I told him, is that we keep making NEW mistakes. That we don't find ourselves constantly rehashing the old lessons and never learning them.

I hope that comforts him. It comforts me.

It's really startling when we talk about these sorts of things and we find out that the things we are worried about are waaaaay different. Or at least, what I'M worried about. I'm worried about the boundaries like not being abused or ridiculed. Jesse's healthier than that and is sometimes baffled by the fact that THAT'S what I'm talking about when I talk about crossed boundaries. He doesn't begrudge me my nervousness about it. It's just that I need to not immediately jump to the worse conclusion, which is of course, where my mind usually goes.

So yeah. Pay more attention to the safe word, because HOLY SHIT that would have been way major if he had done that to me. So I need to make sure that I respect it with the absolute same level. Not paying attention was a fuck up.

So from here on out, let's make NEW fuck ups instead of doing that same one over and over again.


Nov. 25th, 2014 06:22 am
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I awake with an impending migraine, a sore neck due to said impending migraine, and a very, very, deliciously sore and bruised body. The sex with Jesse is beyond amazing....and moreover, taps into a part of me that I've discovered drives my sex drive. Kink. Lots and lots of kink, specifically impact play and bondage. I was so worried at first that he was just saying he liked it - lots of people "like" kink.

But what most people like is the IDEA of being kinky. Sure, they'll indulge a little spanking, maybe giggle with the handcuffs once in a while, but after that, they drop back into regular sex. Which, for them, is fine because kink is NEVER something you force on someone. But me....I need more. I want more.

And so does he. I am absolutely blown away by the places he takes me, the places he takes himself. Last night, during the paddling and flogging, he broke down in tears. Initially I was concerned he was experiencing top-drop, and I paused play to check on him. They were tears of joy. Tears of wonder. Tears of delight at being able to, finally, take himself and someone else to these places - to not have to hide his own wishes to safely hurt someone in the confines of love. And to have found someone who also craves the inverse - to BE hurt under hard hands and a soft heart.

Open. Raw. Vulnerable. Trust. Lust. Passion. Safe. Riding the edge.

These are things he needs. These are things I need. These are things we are able to give each other. He does not judge. He does not ascribe my cravings for welts and sharp stings to abuse. He does not reduce me to a pitied creature who only likes what she likes because Mommy and Daddy didn't treat her right. He allows me the room to be an adult who has the choice - and who has CHOSEN, of her own free will - what turns her on and how she chooses to experience it.

I am not judged. I am not seen as broken. And neither do I judge him or see him as broken.This is SO, SO important. To not be made to feel like a freak. To not be made to feel as if I am sick. To be treated as an adult and not a product of abuse.

He respects every safeword, every called out "yellow", every cried out "Please change tools!". He respects my wishes to not let up, despite the flinches, despite the crying out - he respects my wants to be taken as far as I can, every time. He doesn't ruin or break play with constant worried comments. He trusts me to let him know the direction of what he needs to be doing. Not only does he respect that, he craves it himself.

For him, as he's shared, this is a life-changing discovery. I remember being there. I remember how finding BDSM was like coming home and yet, at the same, permanently changing me. This means he wants this. This means it's in him. And that's what I need.

He himself has had to safeword out a couple of times - and that also gives ME wild trust in HIM. It's a massive sign of respect for what he's doing to both me and himself. It makes me want to give myself to him to push me as far as I can go.

I know to a lot of you this doesn't make any sense. That's okay. But beyond finally finding someone who can give me what makes sex exciting and worthwhile to me, I am overwhelmed with relief to know that I AM NOT BROKEN. I thought I was sexless. I thought I had completely lost all hope of ever experiencing a real sex drive ever again. I thought that I'd be resigned to mild masturbation forever and ever.

I'm not. I won't be. I know the sex won't always be like this. I know this is the honeymoon period. But I also know that, having found someone for whom this is a life-changing discovery, I don't have to worry about losing interest in sex ever again. So, with that, I need to take some Excedrin for the migraine and maybe apply a cold compress to my ass and thighs.

Bruises can be so pretty.
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So I was going to post this long thing - and I just may later. BUT....

This video, about three minutes long, will not surprise anyone in the sense that "Why yes, it is difficult to sing while having an orgasm."

But it may be surprising in just how sweet and adorable this is, too.

So, without further ado, here's a really fun, sexy, video of four women who sing (as best they can) through an orgasm.

Have a feelgood moment. Have four. I know I'm going to.


Jun. 29th, 2014 08:18 am
quirkytizzy: (Default)
We went to a Muppet Movie Sing-Along last night. It's exactly what it sounds like - a theater full of people who are singing along with the words in the Muppet Movie. I'd not seen that movie before, so I didn't sing along, but the rendition of "The Rainbow Connection" (which I have heard covered by many a punk and rock band) made me all kinds of teary-eyed.

Besides, Mrs Piggy is my FAVORITE (as a kid I said I wanted to be glamorous just like her!) and she got a ton of awesome screen time.

I almost asked a man for his number last night. An older man, some manager at Denny's. We had a very spirited conversation about my Guns N Roses tshirt. Josh has given me express permission to use his house to get laid.

And wouldn't this be the perfect time for it? Have some great sex and since I'll be going back to Kansas, it'd be an automatic No Strings Attached. Fun and safe.

Well, part of the problem with asking Gustov for a night of sweaty banging is that I don't know him. This is the problem with me and ANY kind of stranger sex. I'm always paranoid that I'll be alone in the house and not be able to say "No" if I need to. I'd much prefer to sleep with friends (or established friends of friends.)

But as I was thinking about it, my sense of shyness also choked up. Not as in I was worried about rejection (the dude could be married, or gay, or just out of a relationship, or part of some religious cult that views vagina as some kind of soul-sucking black hole), but just that I didn't want to go through how awkward I KNOW I'd be until the actual sex occurred.

So there's that.

It turns out that one of Josh's friends is part of the local BDSM scene. A pain slut, just like me. That was nice and we spent a good deal of the night talking about it. I almost invited her back to Josh's apartment for a play session. And this would have DEFINITELY been safe, as she is definitely a friend of Josh's.

But again, the shyness kicked in.

I was wondering if I really want to have sex or if I just want to feel normal for a while, which is a bad reason to have sex.

Don't get me wrong, I was having definite sexy pantstimes sex feelings. But I was also worried I'd not have the energy to follow through or that I'd realize halfway through that I'm not ready.

In other words, I was wondering if I was feeling enough sexual tension to actually BE sexual. I came to Arizona prepared - brought along some condoms just in case. (I would way rather have the means to have safe sex in case I wanted to have sex, than deny myself the sex because I didn't have protection.)

Which, in the world that is not "Teressa is being a worry wart", would simply mean finding someone who is okay with just making out, if that. And I HAVE that. In Amanda and her husband back in Kansas, and in Josh's friend last night.

Is being so worried about having sex an indication that you should NOT have sex?
quirkytizzy: (Default)
Will my head screw itself back on in the night? I hope so. Here, what happens is I can read (sort of) and I can write. Free form writing. I can write my own thoughts and nothing else, so responding to other people's stuff is hard.

Does anyone have that? Where for whatever reason you can deal with your OWN words and respond to those, but not to other people's (except as it may coincide with the words in your head at that moment)??

Because it makes me feel REALLY self-centered.

Processing David Anger, Lots O Yelling, Lots O Quoted Material, WALL O TEXT )

Going to try and go to bed. If this headache ever lets up, I might get back to Actual Interactive LJ'ing, which is the really fun part of this site for me.
quirkytizzy: (Default)
Or more gay than straight. And that sentiment has no question mark after it because it's true.

This whole thing is still rattling around in my head and I'm quite tired (at only 7:08 in the morning, no less), so forgive if this comes out stilted or rambly.

After my last entry, Bart had the brilliant idea to suggest to me that I stay where I am currently sexually and emotionally safe. That would be with women.

It's a solid suggestion and being as I am very much feeling like I need to stay safe and close to home, I am going to do just that. The idea of dating and sleeping with women feels like COMING HOME.

And that made me think. Internally, I'd used the words "coming home." Not just "home" as in I have a vagina, too, but...home as in what feels the most natural.

And I blinked. Natural. Women feel natural.

As Bart said, "reading your journal for the last couple of years you talk about women in a much more emotional way than men, have many more positive things to say about women than men, you've had a girlfriend before and now all your fantasies are about women. And you've chosen men who are not emotionally available to you - almost as though your subconscious was trying to demonstrate to you that it wants women."

I've known I was bisexual since I was 14, when I developed my first crush on a fellow girl classmate. At 17, I began fooling around with other girls sexually and at 18, I fell in love for the first time.

She was a woman.

So the idea of mixing women into my sexual and emotional life has never bothered me. It is what it is.

But when I read that comment of Bart's, I got to thinking. I've had far more sex and relationships with men - but women have always felt and seemed more natural to me. Always. I've ALWAYS felt more comfortable flirting with women. When I first started watching porn, I started out watching lesbian porn. It took several years before I was interested in straight porn.

This is not to say I'm a lesbian. I'm not. I like dick. And I like men, both romantically and sexually.

But all of a sudden, I'm thinking....if I'm honest - I like women more. And I kind of always have.

I used to ask Pamela how a person knows if they are gay or straight. She said the best way she knew how to answer that is to imagine comforting arms holding you - and then to answer if those arms are male or female.

When I was younger, those arms were a fairly even mix of male and female. But now - they're female. And they have been for a while now.

And flipping through my journals for the last several years - Bart's right. That's exactly what my words have been saying. Women.

It's funny - David was always convinced I was more gay than straight. I'd look at him like he'd grown a second head. "I've had way more sex and relationship with men", I'd say.

And he'd say "Yeah - but who have you WANTED to have more sex and relationships with? Women."

Boom. I always thought he was just being insecure. And he likely was, but that doesn't mean there isn't some truth to what he said, either.

There is definitely an aspect of not wanting to be with men due to some really crappy relationships and icky sex-pressure that's gone on in those male relationships. That makes me wonder if I'm not so much gay as I am simply tired of men.

Which I think is a valid thing. But if I'm looking at all the other things in my past....there's a little more to it than that.

One other thing: I spent a few minutes taking various sexual scale tests online. After the first four that said "Predominantly homosexual, with heterosexual incidences", I just gave up because I knew what the rest would say.

And I remembered something.....I've taken the Kinsey test a few times when I was younger. In my teens and then again a couple of times in my 20's. Outside of sheer sexual experience, "Predominantly homosexual, with heterosexual incidences" was always the result. Every time.

Now, I'm not entirely CONFUSED about my sexuality. I understand it's fluid and that, being bisexual, it's natural that my tendencies would shift one way or the other depending on the circumstances of my life.

I've loved and enjoyed men a great, great deal. Romantically and sexually. This isn't a "Holy shit, I've been dating the wrong sex" because men aren't entirely WRONG for me. I know this.

I'm just thinking that there are a lot of things that pointed to this particular shift years and years ago. That I'd get gayer as I got older.

I guess regardless of what has or has not shifted, I am going to stick with women for a while. I feel safer. I feel sexier.

I just feel....more ME with women. And it's been that way for a long time now.

Thoughts? Experiences? Suggestions? Comments? Links, articles, ideas, ramblings????
quirkytizzy: (Default)
It has been a long time since a migraine has woken me up in the dead of night. But that is what woke me up at 3 AM. Two Excedrin Migraines mostly did the trick. Mostly. It has been even longer since that medication - chock full of caffeine - has only "mostly" done the trick.

Sex, drugs, and it's too fucking early for rock 'n roll )

I love you all. Thank you so much for listening.


quirkytizzy: (Default)

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