Tuesday, October 30, 2012

TMI Tuesday: The Long and Short of it

Thank you Erotic Adventures in Brisneyland for the following TMI Tuesday questions.

1. What is the longest relationship you have been in?
With my ex, we were together just over 9 years.

2. What is the shortest relationship you have been in?
Well, I'm only counting adult official relationships here, so my only other relationship has been with my BF for the last year and half or so.

3. How often do you have sex? How often do you want sex?
I'm going to interpret "sex" as any type of interpersonal sexual activity so it includes oral sex, hand jobs, etc. That we have about six days a week. The seventh is not for rest but the random "I'm too tired to care about sex" we both experience. If one of us is in the too tired stage, the other always participates by lending cuddles, gropes, and dirty words. Wanting sex? I want sex almost every day at least once. Sometimes I want it four or five times a day.  He normally wants it upon waking up and right before bed. I like to push things to happen in between.

4. How long does sex usually last?
I've never officially timed us. I would say between 10 and 20 minutes depending on what we're doing. This is just for penetrative sex from first kisses to final cuddles. 

5. Have you ever had an experience where someone couldn’t perform, finished too quickly or couldn’t keep up with you? Tell us about it?
With both partners I've experienced those awkward moments when they "couldn't get it up."  I didn't freak out or take it personally and asked him for help... when he couldn't get it up, we just called it a night and tried again the next day.

6. If you could only have one “type” of sexual encounter for the rest of your life, would you prefer
a) short and sweet
b) wham bam thank you ma’am
c) here for the long haul
d) slow and tender

I would say short and sweet. I'm a busy woman - I don't need a long, hour-long love-making session. Let's make it sweet and lovely but just long enough where we're both satisfied.

Bonus: Would you consider ending an otherwise healthy and loving relationship if the sex wasn’t what you wanted?
I think it depends on the nature of that relationship. How disappointing is it? I've had my share of disappointment.I would bring up polyamory as an option. If this hypothetical relationship were open to it, I think I could be quite happy in having my sexual and emotional needs met. Of course, that's all nice talk until it happens in the relationship.

Monday, October 29, 2012

Wet happy tears

I've found in a relationship that a little sexual bribery can be a good thing for both partners. For the briber, you have something to prove, an incentive to really put thought and action into your "work." For the bribee, you have this power over your partner -- and a very strong power to say whether or not they met your expectations.

I wanted help painting the living room. He wanted to get off. Sexual bribery was the key. His challenge: "I had better come REALLY FUCKING good."

Hmm. So what to do... We cuddled in bed, freezing in clean sheets and a home that hadn't quite warmed up with the latest cold front. He dove headfirst into my cleavage and came up for air about twenty seconds later. I giggled as he went back down and I suggested we get him a "cleavage snorkel" so he could stay down there longer.

He came up for air and asked how I was going to make him come good enough to help with painting. I started by just so lightly playing with his penis with my fingers, as I often do. Light touches, just finger tips grazing his skin, wandering up and down his shaft. I massaged that spot just under his head that made him close his eyes and bite his lip.

Then I stood on hands and knees over him and licked his semi-erect cock a few times. I drew it into my mouth with my lips and swirled my tongue around it. He moaned slightly. My lips slid down his shaft halfway and back up. I kept my lips soft, gentle, barely touching him. I let my saliva, pushed by my tongue, swirl around him and sucked slightly. Up and down, lightly. I wanted this to go slow.

I used one hand to grip the base of his cock - only covering half of his cock) and focused my attention on the upper half still available to my mouth. I made him look at how big his penis was in my hand.

"I know," he breathed, closing his eyes again. "It's because its so big." My response was to return to bobbing my head up and down his cock again, this time removing my hand from blocking my movements down his cock. I pushed myself to go down more, and more, pushing for that base that would make me gag.

"Oh, you just want it all down your throat? Do you want to just lie down and so I can push it all down your throat?" And I did. The cock-hungry girl in me was only so eager to agree. I laid down and he laid over me, almost as if we were about to 69. Instead, after I guided his cock to my mouth and tilted my head back for a good angle, he flexed his hips and his cock pushed down my throat.

I gagged, hard. I rarely take it so deep. He felt my body heave and held himself there. I pushed him up and off. "You have to let me breathe!" I reminded him. Having my air supply cut off causes panic and I forget to relax my gag reflex as much as possible. He told me to take a deep breath. I did. As soon as he heard the intake stop, he forced his cock back into me, hard down my throat. I felt it push far into me, and my body heaved. I tried to relax, but another giant have and he pulled up. His dick dragged strings of very thick spit into my mouth.

He let me take a couple of shallow breaths and back into my throat he went. He kissed my velvet bare pubic mound as my body heaved some more. He let me gag a couple of times before allowing another quick breath and once again my air was cut off. Tears spilled from my eyes, dripping down my face.

Thick cum was in strings from his cock to my mouth when he pulled up. He kissed me tenderly and I began to pull him back into my throat. The gags wouldn't stop, and it hurt slightly to have him down there as my body fought his intrusion. Again and again he gave me quick breaths only for me to pull him back down, needy for him despite my body's rejection.

He laid back down on the bed, and saw the tears running down my face. I pushed myself down on that cock again, better controlling the angle so it didn't hurt.  I'm not sure if my gag reflex became more sensitive from gagging or if I was just so cock hungry I pushed myself that far, but I was choking on his dick with almost every slide down his cock.

I was panting for air when I pulled up to stop the gag. I almost puked twice. Spit dribbled out of my mouth in thick drops as ropes between my mouth and his cock grew too long. I coughed. His cock felt slippery with my spit, like lube as I jerked him off while I gained control of my gagging.

"Oh you cock hungry whore!" he whispered at me. "You are so cock hungry today, aren't you?" I didn't stop to talk or answer, I just took in his cock again into my throat.

I took a break from deep throating and very softly licked the head of his penis. Soft laps of my tongue while my lips were encased around him. He softly moaned how good it felt, how it was just right. It felt so good.

Back to deep throating - his sensitized dick head slid down my throat and he gasped at the sensation. I gagged once more, fresh tears spilling from my eyes. All the quick breathing in between gags and having my air cut off was giving me a runny nose. I had to spit the extra thick saliva out onto his cock - I had too much in my mouth. I couldn't see straight through the tears in my eyes. His hands were in my hair, pushing my head down and he fucked into my throat until my gag was so strong I had to push myself off of him.

I spit more onto him and heard my loud sniffles between my gags. I heard his moans turn into deeper, throaty growls. His hands pushed me down and gave way when I couldn't handle it. I loved being his little cock whore. He made me stop so he could slap my face with his dick. I kept my mouth open - it was the only way I could breath - and the slaps made a small pop! of sound in my mouth.

In my had I knew I was his little cock sucking whore. I was to serve him, be used by him, and I was so happy to choke on his dick. When he was done slapping me, I returned to softly licking the head of his penis, licking off the thick cum that remained on his cock rather than my cheek.

When I started pushing him into my throat again, I had to use extra care to avoid grazing him with my teeth. My mouth was tired and his cock can hit molars if I'm not careful. I wanted only tongue, cheek, and the walls of my mouth to touch his cock. More gagging and new tears spilled. I sniffled and choked.

I heard he was getting close to orgasm and pushed him into me further than I wanted to, gagging. His hands found the top of my head and he held me down and fucked into my mouth. I wanted to pull away but I heard his orgasm come and sealed my lips around his cock. He stopped thrusting and gave a final push so his come poured down my throat as much as possible. I gagged more on his cock and swallowed what I could, finally pulling up so I could finish swallowing his come.

I looked at him and wiped my eyes. My whole face was wet with tears, snot, and spit. He handed me a kleenex and I cleaned myself off. He told me I was a very good girl for crying like that and taking his dick so well. I've never cried like that before, and I loved it so much.

So, did I win his help with painting? Apparently so, as he's agreed to paint the room while I'm at work later this week, giving me the rest of today off.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

The subconscious love

He loves me, subconsciously. 

When we first started sleeping together, he woke me up every night, sometimes multiple times, with his sleep talking. Mumbled words, incoherent phrases, it didn't matter. They were loud enough to startle me awake, and as soon as I realized he was still sleeping, it was over.

It made me tired. Most of the time I couldn't understand what he was saying. Or, if I did, it didn't make sense. He would say something like, "The brick isn't a cow" and I'd be left bewildered, trying to figure out that it meant. In the morning, he never remembered what he said or dreamt.

It was so funny... I've never experienced anything like this. Being woken up every night wasn't fun, especially when it would take me about fifteen minutes to fall back asleep. Then I had another idea.

How long had I know this man? Well, online for a year... in person, just a few weeks. I had to do "the test."  So the next night...

"(mumbled words)" he says and wakes me again.

"Do you love me?"

He smiles in his sleep. "Of course I love you."

"Are you sure?"

He sighs. "Yes, I love you. Just deal with it."

I repeated the test another night a week later, with similar answers. The smile on my face the next day at work was infectious.

And then came other signs:
  • If I roll over to hold him at night, he automatically grabs my hand and holds it to his chest with a grip I'd have to make an effort to escape.
  • If I move his arm to lay on his chest, he repositions his whole body to hold me and wraps his arms around me.
  • If I kiss him goodbye when I leave for work, he tells me "I love you beautiful" in his sleep.
  • If I cuddle into him, he pushes his body back into me to be close
All of these not-so-subtle and subconscious actions reflect what he's been telling me for a year and a half: he loves me. They say actions speak louder than words... they do. But subconscious actions? It's like screaming love from a mountain top.


Thursday, October 25, 2012

No reason to rush

So, what happened to "The Rule"?

If you're unfamiliar with "The Rule" you can catch up on your reading here (where the Rule was introduced) and here (where the practicality of the Rule was questioned).  Here's a quick recap:

The Rule was that we would be together a full year before we even considered the next step of our  relationship: lifelong commitment, marriage, etc. We wanted to make sure we had seen and experienced a year together - all the ups and downs, real life, all those moments of reality that you should experience to really know someone.

Well, that year mark passed a few months ago. So, now what?

Well, we're just avoiding it for now. We do know a few things: this relationship is what we both want, forever. We do plan to get married one day. We want kids. We want to grow old together. We've actually known all this for months and all that rule breaking was hinting at it.

We do know a few things -- like we both want a proposal. I want one for the ultimate, romantic moment with my future, well, you know. I want the ring and sweet words. Why is it important? It just is for me.

It's important for him, too. His prior marriage did not start with a proposal. It was not romantic and not sweet - it was more of a demand from her which he agreed to. He wants to propose and ask me to be his. (Cue the "awwwws").

OK, so what's the wait? Well, its mostly financial at this point. He wants to buy a ring and he just started working after months of unemployment. He needs time. We can't even begin to afford a wedding and I don't want to be engaged for a long period of time. I also don't want to get engaged on day 366 of our relationship, or even day 400. (OK, those dates have passed, but you get my drift.)

We don't talk much about it. We know it will happen. For now, we're just going on in life.

 OK, so I think about it and I know what kind of ring I want. And he's seen it/them. He still calls me Mrs. ____. We can't help ourselves!

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

TMI Tuesday: Then and Now, age 17

1. What one part of your sex life today would most surprise the 17 year old you?
The 17 year old me was a virgin who knew she was kinky, but was unsure just how kinky. She knew she wanted restraints, fucking, multiple penetration options, She would probably be surprised that I enjoy anal sex, rimming, and I enjoy watersports and my boyfriend's foot fetish.

2. What one thing might shock that younger you?
That I'm living with my boyfriend... living in sin! At 17 there was no way that I would have considered that a possibility. I was too much of a good girl back then. And by good girl, I mean I would have not considered sex before marriage and surely marriage would be permanent.

3. What part of the younger you’s (not necessarily at age 17) sex life do you look back on with the most nostalgia?
Well, up until a year ago, my sex life was pretty awful. I don't miss any part of that. The only thing I'd love to revisit would be our first few weeks together where we are really learning each other's bodies and desires. Back then we had sex every day, multiple times a day, in every way possible. OK we did that for months... we've slowed down to most days of the week at least once a day.

4. Is there anything in the younger you’s sexual ambitions or fantasies you have not yet fulfilled?
Being with a woman, of course!  Oh, and DP with two cocks and maybe a third in my mouth. (And no, I'm not taking volunteers right now!)

Bonus:  Give your 17 year old self a piece of sexual advice.
Don't settle! If someone won't do something that seems basic and essential to you, realize that's not going to change and its just an indication of how things are going to go. It's actually a good thing to date around and make sure EVERYTHING is going to work.

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

Monday, October 22, 2012

Name calling

I've never really been called names before the BF. I used to beg to be called "slut" and "whore" and the ex never understood why.

Because I asked, dammit!

Yesterday morning, I was woken up with naked cuddles. It was still early, even dark outside. We had hours still to sleep. But a very hard dick was placed in my hand and I knew what to do.

I toyed with it. Wake me up to play with your dick? OK, I'm going to touch the head. And ONLY the head. I won't let you take back control and you're not allowed to touch the head. At first he thought he was getting a hand job. But then I never continued my exploration of his penis beyond the head. I pretended like I was falling back asleep, so he reached and grabbed his cock, starting to jack himself off.

Sorry, this head is mine. I grabbed onto his had and started massaging it. His motions into my hand to push me off were not going to work. I just held on. Several times, I just held on and let him jack off the base of his cock, giving him the stimulation of having the head of his dick gripped, but no movement.

I knew I won when he said, "Oh, you torturous bitch!" in a gasp. I almost let him come. Almost.

I let him get close, really close. And then I stopped. I'll show you what a torturous bitch is. When he started to beg and my hand was cramping from the tight grip I needed to maintain control, I considered adding lube. But no, he woke me up so this was his reward.

I let him come all over the palm of my hand.

And then this morning was very different. Naked cuddles were again the start of our fun, but it started with soft kisses. Those kisses with lips playing and a soft sweep of the tongue. Gentle, patient. Building. You feel your desire spike and you reach for more of their body.

He reached for my hip, then travelled to my thigh, before reaching my clit. I adjusted my body and when I spread my legs wide for him, he said, "Good girl, good girl spreading those legs wide for me."

And when he forced eight clit orgasms on me, making me agree that I was a slut who was always ready and always wanting more, I couldn't argue. He was right.

Every orgasm, every body movement, every scream he told me what a good girl I was for him.

When I rode him reverse cowgirl after as a thank you, he spanked me, hard. He spanked me and said even good girls are spanked when I complained about how it was hurting me. The faster I went, riding his cock under me, the harder he slapped me.

And then his finger wandered into my asshole, already lubed up even though I didn't hear him do it, and I agreed to being a good girl all over again. Good girls get it in the ass.

At some point, I was too tired from the orgasms on his dick that I collasped on the bed, but he wouldn't remove his finger. "You like it, you know you do. Slut." I complained, I wiggled, I tried to get away but his finger stayed in me no matter how I moved.

And finally, he said, "Spread your legs, slut." And I did. On my stomach, head buried in the comforter from screaming, I spread my legs wide. He managed to keep his finger in my ass as he sat up and crawled over, placing his dick in my vagina once more.

I erupted in screams of pleasure as both finger and dick fucked me together. "I know, I know my good girl likes it. My slut." I did. My own screams and orgasm betrayed me as I fucked him back, wildly, hungry, desperate for more.

When he came in me, all he said was, "Take it! Take it you slut!" and I felt him pump cock into my very wet pussy.

See what calling names can get you?

Saturday, October 20, 2012

I still believe in marriage

What is so wrong with marriage?

Lately, I've noticed this huge trend on twitter where people speak out against marriage. Statements like "Wedding dress - RED RED RED" or "The day you get married is the day you die." I don't know the stories of the people who tweet these. Perhaps they were married once and it was so awful they think the whole idea is for the dogs. (Pets marrying is, I think, a really stupid idea).

I've had a marriage that was less than stellar. From what I've heard in feedback via comments and twitter, a lot of people can relate and have similar stories. Sometimes its a choice made out of stupidity, youth, being blind to reality, or sheer hope that things could change. Maybe you and your partner change so much that marriage just doesn't make sense anymore.

So, is there even a point to getting married?

Yes, I think so. I read a recent blog article by Mr. Masquerade and he is very cynical about marriage and even long term relationships. In his view, it is too restricting and you lose your independence and sense of self. You risk your dreams for someone else. And how can anyone realistically promise to love someone and stay loyal forever, when you don't know who you'll be in 5 years?  It seems that the only risk and reward to marriage is giving up so much of yourself and potentially hating your own life and resenting your partner.

Yes, those are all risks - if you do not choose your partner right or enter marriage/that relationship with the wrong view. I've already promised and then broken that promise before I'm 30. So has my boyfriend.

So why in the world would we do it all again? Well, here are my NUMBER reasons for why I still believe in marriage:

1. We've seen it work. Both sets of our parents have the same story: married too young, grew up very quickly, divorced, and then met their real life partner. Its not the ideal path and its certainly not the only way to choose a partner, but the end result is the same: His parents have been together 35 years and mine have been married 29. Both sets of my grandparents were married for 50+ years until a spouse died We've both witnessed marriage that last and are happy. A happy, loving marriage can happen, so why not for me or you?

2. I've learned from the past. What went wrong in my first marriage does not have to (nor do I intend it to) repeat itself in any future relationships. I've learned from my mistakes. Each person, hopefully, takes some learning from a relationship that did not work out. This is why you date and learn to filter out what you like/don't like about someone and use it for the next person. I learned I need a kinky sex life, flirting and attraction is much more important than I ever thought, and setting a standard for yourself is OK. I didn't deserve someone to make me feel bad about normal parts of my body. I didn't have to stay with someone who took me and my contributions for granted. I wanted someone who would be an equal contributor to our household - equal in terms of effort, not money.

3. I can be realistic. People are, by definition, fallible. At some point someone's going to mess up and you're going to argue. Misunderstandings, miscommunications, disagreements, and arguments are all a part of LIFE. The trouble with a relationship is you have to learn how to work through this and not let it break you. I've seen couples break up over some really stupid things. If any relationship is going to work, you have to understand the whole person: not just the good that you love, but the bad that will come with it. I have flaws, so does my BF. Every day we work around them and every day we make it.

4. It's not about losing, it's about gaining. Going from Ms. to Mrs. does not mean I am giving up who I am. I am bringing all of me into a relationship and I am being joined by someone bringing all of himself. He knows what I want in life. I know what he wants. We both have goals, together and separate. Marriage is about supporting one another in those goals. Yes, that may mean I have to put my goals on hold why he works on something or we work on something together. This delay would not exist if I were single, but I am gaining the opportunity to support the person I love most in the this world to do something they want - how could I not support that? And he will do the same for me. I'm gaining my own cheerleader, support system, advice-giver, listener, cook, cleaner, errand-runner, bill-payer, back-rubber, friend, and travel companion. What am I losing that compares to all that? Not much. 

5. It's easier, legally speaking. Let's be honest: marriage makes everything (most things?) easier, legally speaking. No one questions the "husband" or "wife" when an important decision needs to be made. In case of a medical emergency, that is the person I want by my side and making decisions if I'm incapacitated. I get tax breaks for being married. Even in death its easier to divvy up belongings if you're married and have a legal claim to it rather than "but we've been together for X years." Time together does not a marriage make (common law marriage excluded of course). For those reasons alone, I want marriage -- and its a major reason why gay marriage is important. It's not always about love and romance. It's just practical.

6. It's two against the world. When you're married, you have a partner, another half of a couple. Together you face whatever happens in life. That person is your source of comfort and joy. They are there to take the stress off you if they can just as you would do the same. It's best friends with deep, emotional benefits. To put it in geek terms, you are the tank to the other's healer. It's about partnership and using your strengths to bolster each other and face life decisions together.

7. It's making a public promise. There's a reason why a lot of marriages start with a wedding: there's something beautiful about two people publicly declaring they are going to spend their lives together. I'm not here to say whether you should write your vows to say "forever" or "until we decide otherwise." I've seen both and its really up to you what you want to promise. The thing is, marriage is a contract. It has to be upheld by both parties to be valid. Both parties are saying they will do X and Y and Z and therefore will expect X and Y and Z in return. You decide what X and Y and Z includes. Vows are not one size fits all and not all vows are public. Do you have to promise to love only that person forever? Not if you're polyamourous. Do you have to promise to fuck only your partner forever? Not if you're a swinger. Your marriage, your rules.

8. I promise to try.  Change happens. It's not always easy and it may not be what you expect. As time progresses, so do we. We change in our relationships, in our jobs, in our preferences. As we age our priorities might change. Having a child may introduce a whole new side of you - the parent you - you didn't know existed. This might be where marriage is kicked hardest in the nuts. We've all seen or heard stories of "We grew apart" or "I didn't know him/her anymore." It can happen. What matters is - do you try and work through it, or do you call it a good run and part ways? For some, its better if they separate. Forcing two people together for the sake of someone other than both of them is pointless. But the point of marriage is: did you promise to try? Try to work together, talk it out, experience it together, try to understand, try to improve? Not every try will be a success (sorry, Yoda), but the point will be: you made an effort. You can not anticipate what the next 5 years will do to your marriage. If something goes out of balance, whether with your interest, communication, honesty, or relationship, the changes could be devastating. You have to trust that your partner isn't going to let that happen just as you will try to do the same. Its a road that's walked together, but the path is rarely straight and clear of obstacles. Will you try to try and cross them?

I think that sums it up. I plan to be married again one day.  Ideally, you're best friends with the hottest sex life and only a few bumps in the road. I could go on and on about finding the right partner - but I am not you. Only you can decide what you want. Partnership in life is beautiful.

Marriage isn't for everyone. I can't force you to get married and you shouldn't tell me who I can and cannot marry. Not every marriage should last forever, that's why divorce was such a great idea. Right now, I think the statistics state that about half of marriages end in divorce. That's a huge fail rate. However, that means that half of marriages last. Is it always happy and healthy? No - but that is the fault of both partners. I've experienced the failure of a marriage and I definitely had a share of the blame in that failure.

I have no intention of repeating that mistake. And this time, the relationship is completely different.

Friday, October 19, 2012

The divorce

I remember what it felt like to snap. That moment where you're done with reasoning and excuses. The line is drawn and you step across it, knowing there's no way back. The line where betrayal and pain main any future look brighter than your current experience. It went something like this:

It had been a long day, too long. Micah*, my husband, was already home like he always was, but I knew better than to assume dinner had even been thought of.  I knew he would be home because the part-time "internship" he worked at usually had him home by early afternoon and he was always reading or video gaming when I walked through the door.

Oh, the "internship." Two graduate degrees and he was interning at a start-up that couldn't afford to pay him more than a flat rate that just covered his student loan payments. There was the promise of "it could become successful" and he would hopefully be rewarded for his efforts, but that was a big if in the current economy.

I knew work was hard to find; all of his law school friends were unemployed save one. Two years in a Masters program and three years of law school with zero real world experience made finding work awfully difficult. I regretted our agreement. Back in college when we were dating freshman year and engaged before our junior year, we both knew we wanted grad school. We had decided that, since I was undecided, he would go while I worked and then we'd switch.

Yeah, right. I upheld my end of the deal. I'd found full-time employment two months after graduation. In five years I'd worked my way up through several promotions and made something of myself. I'd also decided what I wanted to do for a real career and had been waiting for my chance. He, on other hand, hated his first grad program and proceeded with law school, only to declare his final year he didn't want to be a lawyer.

When graduation day came, his parents and my parents were there to congratulate him. Micah didn't even thank me. No acknowledgement of the years I'd delayed for him, the hours I'd worked, the life I'd made possible. I'd asked very little of him during those five years. He didn't clean except on special occasions. He rarely cooked. I ran all the errands and handled all the bills. He never worked, even during summer breaks when all he did was watch TV and play video games.

But once grad school was over, there were no job prospects. The "internship" was enough to pay that bill, but what about the rest of our bills? Where was my "break" where I could go to school or take a real vacation that didn't include his parents? It vanished.

I tried, I really did. I asked my mentor and one of the best managers I'd had to dinner to talk with him about finding his passion and how to interview. One of my friends who worked in recruiting in HR interviewed him and coached him for 3 hours plus two pages of typed notes on his resume and ways to approach employers about how his school experience could benefit a real life job.

And then he did nothing. No job searching, not even any review of the information that had been handed to him. What would cost others hundreds he just tossed aside. I sent him a variety of jobs I'd found, trying to figure out what he wanted or, at the least, could handle. Each was met with reasons why he didn't find it appropriate or beneath his level of education.

I walked into the door from my long day of work. It was only a Monday. He had made a promise to me yesterday he would job search today after he neglected it all weekend. I had cried several times over the past few weeks over the stress of my job and stress of keeping up with bills and terror we would never stop this endless cycle of debt. Surely he would have some better news for me today.

As I expected he was playing video games. I was a game geek myself and addicted, but I never let my job or our financial future hang in the balance on a game. I was responsible for a lot. He barely noticed me walk in the door. I set my stuff down and asked about his day. He hadn't gone to work; his back was hurting so he'd stay home to use the heating pad on it.

"So, did you look for jobs today?"

"No, my back hurt. If I could have gone to work I would have looked at jobs."

Snap. There it was. That last string. I walked out of the room, fuming.

So, he can't work and can't online job search, but he can play video games for hours? After he promised? What I felt was hot ice filling up the core of my body. I felt almost disembodied from the moment. I can't believe this is happening. But it was. Six years of marriage and I'm still the only adult here. Six years of my life gone. To nothing.

I had to do this very carefully. I went into the bedroom and quietly packed my smallest suitcase. My mind was a whirl of items I would need to survive several days without every coming back to our apartment. Pillow. Cell phone charger. Brush. Toothepaste. Work clothes. PJs. Underwear. Oh! I almost forgot socks... Everything else I needed was in the office, with him.

I walked in, quiet, not looking at him. I turned on my computer, like I normally would as if I were about to play video games myself. Instead, I booked a hotel room using the reward points I'd been saving for a trip to Europe - we had enough for a full week's stay free. Too late, now they would keep me away from him. I booked the hotel. Cleared browser history. OK. He didn't have the login info and the confirmations went to my email, which he didn't know the password to. Check. It was time to go.

I left the room to retrieve my laptop bag, steadied myself, and then went back into the office and packed as fast as I could. Laptop. Charger. Pens. Done.

"What are you doing?"  Crap!

"I'm packing my bags." Oh no... my voice cracked and tears sprung to my eyes. What I had dreaded for years was about to happen.

"What do you mean, packing a bag? Where are you going?" He noticed my emotional climate. He knew something was terribly wrong.

I couldn't hold back anymore. I erupted into angry sobs. "I'm leaving you!" And I turned and dashed out of the room. My suitcase and purse were already in the entryway, waiting for me. It was time to go.

"Wait... What? No, wait... Why? WHY are you doing this?" He was full of panic.

"Because...." in sobs, "because! You made a choice today. You can't work and you can't job search, but you can play video games for hours?"

I waited. "Well... its different... I mean, no, wait, don't go! STOP PLEASE."

He had grabbed my suitcase. There was no way he could stop me now. "DON'T MICAH. Don't you DARE hold me back. I'm staying somewhere local but I'm not telling you where. Don't you DARE follow me. Don't come and find me." I marched down the stairs, heaving my suitcase, laptop, and purse, barely seeing through the stream of tears going down my face.

He called after me, and watched me march out to my car, pack my bags, and drive away. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done.

I made sure he didn't follow me. I could barely see the road so one hand swept tears away as the other drove the car. When I checked into the hotel, the clerk asked me if I was OK. I was, I said. But I'd just left my husband. And then I broke down. The expression on his face was awful, but I knew it could not compare to the pain I felt at this moment.

Six years of marriage. Nine altogether. My whole life from age 17 to 26 had been entirely his and it had all been a waste.

When I got to my room I let the tears just fall and the loud sobs and screams of anguish racked through me. When I could talk I called my parents to tell them what had happened. They were shocked, but surprisingly supportful. For months I had been telling them of my complete despair over his lack of action and complete disinterest in changing.

I logged into my video game to tell my favorite kinmate why I wouldn't be gaming much this week. He was disappointed and very concerned and I told him the entire story. He wasn't so surprised, he'd heard my frustrations for months in private chat. He supported me and wanted to be there for me. It was a small comfort. Aside from my parents, it was the only friend I told.

Nothing was final. I'd booked the hotel through Friday, but was clueless what would happen next. We had no family nearby. My greatest hope was that, if things stayed the same or grew worse, a co-worker would open her home to me.

Two days passed and I contacted him to let him know I was OK and still local and had no idea what to do. He asked if we could talk and I agreed to meet him in the parking lot of the hotel. He wanted me back and wanted me to stay. Nothing would be fixed if I didn't come back, he argued. He now understood how important it was that he do something else. In the back of my mind, I remember slight shock at this remark and thinking: It took THIS to make you realize that? 

Then again, my voice had fallen on his deaf ears a lot it seemed. It had started with him getting the wedding he and his family wanted and me going along with it as a nice gesture to him. I thought it was a waste of money - and when the day came and I realized it was probably a mistake to get married at 20 one month after college graduation, all I could think was the expense of cancelling it and maybe I just.... owed us and our families for all the trouble to see if it could work.

And then on our wedding night, we were both disappointed. We were both virgins (yes, REALLY), and although we'd done all sorts of kissing and licking, he'd never penetrated me, even with a finger. We rushed into sex, two virgins desperate to find out what the "big deal" was. My words as soon as it was over (about a minute later) were, "It kinda hurt" and "That's it?" I pushed for it twice more that night, hoping that it would get better. Nope. It hurt less each time, but it wasn't that much fun. He could have cared less. We had sex once more on our 10 day honeymoon.

From there we had sex maybe once a week. I found that, instead of being the normally cuddly person I am, I didn't want him to touch me, which was hard in a queen sized bed. We upgraded to a king as soon as we could, and I introduced the "middle" pillow which effectively blocked him from ever touching me. We had sex once a week for about a year, then it dwindled to once a month when I couldn't stand my level of hornyness. I'd gone from masturbating daily as a single woman to orgasming once a month and hating every minute of it.

At year three, I'd come to terms with the fact that I was not attracted to him and probably never had been. We'd never flirted and every attempt he made grossed me out and turned me off so much. I couldn't even bring myself to try; it was too funny and awkward and not in a sexy or good way!

I told him at year 3.5 I wasn't attracted to him. I had to - sex was infrequent and I was having sex dreams about other men and past romantic interests. I was unable to turn my eye from other men and women in public and porn - neither of which he approved of, of course. He wasn't sure what to do about it, and less than six months later he would brag after sex how attractive he was to me (obviously!) and how happy that made him. I never corrected him; it seemed cruel and it would expose the fact I was just using him.

He didn't approve of a lot in sex. I'd tried to introduce toys and very light kink like restraints into our sex life, hoping it would spice it up to give us both the urge and enjoyment. He turned everything away in disgust and fear. I wasn't allowed to buy a vibrator that was bigger than his average penis for fear it would stretch me out too much and decrease his enjoyment.

He hated the way I tasted. He wouldn't perform oral sex unless I had just showerd and he could constantly wipe me out with a wet washcloth and then after a couple of minutes he would be unable to continue due to the gross taste. This was, perhaps, the most hurtful and painful aspect of our marriage. To be rejected on such an intimate level was... numbing. I kept telling myself I could live without it.

But I couldn't. In reality I wanted to enjoy sex, have kink, be able to flirt, be able to embrace my bisexuality and enjoy a woman. I wanted a partner who respected my views.

When he asked me to come back with promises to work on things, I said I needed to think about it. The next day he came over and asked us to start couples counseling to try and work on these problems WE had. He didn't want to lose me.

Counseling. For two years during our marriage I'd gone to counseling for myself. I had no backbone and was completely codependent on whoever I saw as the authority figure. It used to be my parents; now it was him. I had no individual opinion or voice. I assumed a problem was my fault in some way, so it was my responsibility. Counseling helped me change that, ever so slowly. It took years but I came out of it with this blossoming that, ironically, Micah said he loved about me. I was still me, but with my own voice in this world.

A voice that was done tolerating a "partner" who was really a grown child expecting the easy life, it seemed. Marriage counseling was not a place I really wanted to go. I'd researched attraction and everything I saw was about reconnecting what had been there -- but there had been nothing there. No flirting, no romance. Nada.

As his parents and my parents would later argue, how could you be together so long if that were the case? I was seventeen when we started dating. We'd started dating from peer pressure. We hung out enough that everyone thought we were dating, so we'd agreed to see if they were right. We had actual fun together and grew very close, even into best friends.

But best friends do not necessarily make lovers, as I had found out. And forcing yourself to see a lover when you had no interest in one being there was completely backwards and crazy.

I knew I had a choice. But I also wanted to live at home. Hotel living was terrible and left very few lounging and food choices, so I agreed to counseling and went home on Friday.

Over the weekend life continued as it always had. I had private chats with my kinmate, who was encouraging me to divorce. A lot of good points were made, I had to admit. And now that I had seen a taste of freedom and given myself time to think and reflect, it sounded very good.

My kinmate was unashamedly flirting with me in private chat. This wasn't very new or surprising; during voice chat, which came out over my computer speakers, he hit on me and flirted with me constantly. Micah had heard it for months and it didn't bother him; nor did it bother him when I flirted back. That was weird and backwards, but it felt so good to flirt again! And now this private chat was going very naughty... and I didn't stop.

On Sunday night, the kinmate asked to see my picture. I had been driving him crazy for months and all this flirting was making him go crazy. I facebook messaged him. He wrote back that I was a very beautiful woman and he was falling very hard for me.

The kinmate told me Monday night he thought he was in love with me.

On Tuesday, I asked for my divorce. It was easier than leaving Micah the first time. I was more like a cold stone, resolute in my decision now. It was done. I would be free.

Less than four weeks later and a few days before our seven year anniversary, Micah moved out. It took a while since he had no job, barely any money, and no family nearby. We lived together, uncomfortably, those few weeks, avoiding each other. We divided up our belongings and money very fairly. We didn't have a single argument. I went to six counseling sessions with him to help him get closure and understand what was happening. The counselor was set on reconciliation and gave him false hope that, if we promised not to file for a couple months, we might rethink things. I said no constantly to this and filed six weeks later. He was devastated I didn't wait the full eight weeks I had apparently promised to.

In counseling, and several times a week, I explained my history of attraction, self discovery, and the reality of how he was a best friend to me - but not a lover. I pointed out our mutual history and, with apologies, the brutal truth of how much I was disappointed by and hated our sex life. His touch literally repulsed me. He held constant that, with time and counseling, that could change.

All I could think was, Why would I put myself through that? After all this time?

I couldn't. I was done giving, trying, hoping, waiting. When I had known three years prior that I wasn't attracted to him, I cried almost every day in private, knowing it was going to end at some point. I'd given myself years to come to terms with this. By the time I'd said divorce, it was done. I didn't need to heal very much at all.

What hurt the worse was seeing the toll it took on Micah. I had been his first everything. EVERYTHING. I had hidden my feelings from him and let time go by without telling the truth. He may not have been ideal, but I had been completely cruel in my communication and honesty with him about how things really were. I had faked years of being a loving wife. Of course I'd loved him, but not as a wife would.

To this day, I miss him. Nine years is a long time to spend with someone and an almost daily basis. We had so many happy memories. In everything but romance and intimacy we were completely compatible. He had been my closest friend and confidant, my biggest supporter for so many things. When he left a small part of me felt like, and feels like, its permanently broken and damaged. We had killed something beautiful.

Both sets of parents were against the divorce. His family quit talking to me; I couldn't blame them. I found out months later they used mutual friends on facebook to spy on me and report back to Micah on my life. He asked them not to, and them asked me to block them when they wouldn't listen. My parents went from somewhat supportive to completely against my decision. I gave them the PG details of everything that was wrong; they refused to believe it could be as bad as I painted it.

Our divorce was relatively quick and painless. Sixty-one days after I filed, the papers were signed and it was over. No lawyers were needed. Even after all the hurt and anger, we still managed to be decent to each other.

The kinmate, if you hadn't guess, is now my BF. He and I met in-person two weeks after Micah moved out. To most the timing is surprising. It seems too fast, too much of a rebound.

Was I cheating on Micah with the BF? Perhaps. But Micah knew about the kinmate who flirted, listened to it happen, and even asked if I was going to date him after he moved out. I told him the truth: yes, I wanted to do that and probably would. Technically no papers were signed and nothing was official; but paperwork does not have to reflect real life to make something authentic.

I do know this: I never want to experience anything like that again.

*Name changed, of course.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Period sex: oral delights

It wasn't something we talked about before meeting in person. We'd talked about period sex and we'd talked about oral sex, but never about combining the two.

If you're a long-time reader of this blog, you could probably assume why. Prior to the BF, my sexual relationship consisted of very little sex and when it happened, it was as plain vanilla as it can be. With my ex it was mostly missionary, never any toys, and he wouldn't touch me on my period; he hated to eat pussy so much I stopped asking to stop the constant rejection and, even worse, complete rejection of my body when it was "too gross" to do it longer than a minute or two.

When I found out the BF had no issues with period sex and that he loved to eat pussy, I was hopeful it would be true and ecstatic when it was.

But shortly after our sexual relationship had started, it he my period and he laid out the ground rule, "I'm sorry, but I just won't eat your pussy on your period." I could live with that. I'm not sure I could do the same.

So we never talked about it. I got plenty of action on my period since it didn't make him squeamish and about 3 days after my period was over, he would devour my pussy like a starving man. I had no initiative to revisit the idea.

That is, until a few weeks after our anniversary. I was telling him of how some women use the Diva Cup or similar to allow oral sex without the presence of blood and use of a tampon. His reaction surprised me -- he thought that was weird, why not just eat the bloody pussy?

I reminded him of his prior statement, and then he said, "I'll eat your pussy on your period."

I was speechless for about a minute, trying to figuring out where this disconnect had happened. In the end, he agreed he had made that statement but "things had changed" for him.

I have no idea what that means and no amount of asking and trying to figure it out would yield any other answer from him. I found out he has eaten period pussy prior to me, a fact I was unaware of until he offered to do the same to me. So what changed? I have no idea. I've respected his request to not read into it and let it rest at he changed his mind.

But that next period, he ate my bloody pussy. It felt incredible, and I loved it. With us, nothing is ever off limits, and I love that.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

TMI Tuesday: Can we just be friends?

1.     Have you ever had a friendship with a someone where you secretly (or not so secretly) desired them?
 Absolutely! In high school I had a crush on several guys who were my friends. I couldn't help it - they were sweet, fun, and hot. I even got the nerve to tell a couple of them I liked them. One of the turned into a pity date (it was sweet but yeah, neither of us wanted more than that one date) and the other turned into a very complicated relationship. I haven't told that story, and I'm not sure I ever will at this point.

2.     Are you prone to jealousy, suspicion or insecurity when your partner spends time with an attractive close friend without you? Why?
No, I'm not. I fully trust him and I don't regulate his friendships or people he talks to without me. We operate on full disclosure, and he has no problems telling me if he thinks she's attractive (and in how many ways) and how things went. I do the same. Neither of us has anything to hide or worry about with our other half being out with anyone attractive. Since we're bisexual, if we had this concern it would have to be with anyone in the world. That's too exhausting!

3.     Has a previously platonic friendship ever bloomed into a sexual relationship?
Yes. This is how my ex-husband and I started. We were platonic friends and started dating from peer pressure of "Well, you hang out enough to be." It was the first sexual relationship for either of us. My mistake was confusing interest in sex for interested in him.  

4.     Have you ever remained close friends with an ex-lover?
No, I'm not really friends with my ex-husband. I tried as he was and had been in that "friend-zone" for a while, but it only ended in him getting vicious with his words from all the hurt I caused him... so that's on hiatus. It's a shame - in so many ways he could be a really good friend. He always was and I'd like him to be.

I've remained friends with that complicated relationship from high school I mentioned in #1. He was my first love but we knew it would never work out, so we refrained from a sexual relationship. I think that restraint helped us stay friends afterwards. We stayed in touch consistently. He came to my wedding, and asked me to meet a potential fiancee as he wanted an old friend's opinion since he didn't have any other older friends in the area to meet her. I'm invited to his wedding in January. I've loved that, despite the high emotional component of our relationship, we readjusted back to friends.

Bonus:  Have you ever developed feelings for a “friend with benefits”? How did it develop, unfold, resolve?
No. I don't think I could do this type of relationship.

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

Monday, October 15, 2012

Reunion Pt 2

When his parents visited, we didn't have sex, mainly due to our awkward and public sleeping arrangements. In reality it was only 48 hours we didn't have sex, masturbate, or grope each other. It felt like a really long time in our own home.

On the first night, we gave each other hand-jobs. Intimate, intense, hand-jobs (read about it here).

On the second night, with parents now gone and the house our own, sex didn't wait until bedtime. Sex happened during some TV show we were watching on Netflix, probably a Mythbusters. We had been sitting on the couch as we normally do: Me on the one side, and he laying on my leg across the length of the couch. One of my legs was in his arms for him to touch, caress, feel up, and wander. His fingers ran the length of playing with toes to my pussy lips, teasing me.

I became a mess of soft moans and wiggling as he teased me, coyly asking why I couldn't sit still. After enough whimpering, he asked, "Do I have to fuck you now?" I grinned and he told me to pick my spot.

I'm not used to this decision. Normally he tells me how and where he wants it. Being told to make that choice was a little overwhelming...  the couch? the ottoman? floor? No... I knew...

Into the eat-in kitchen, where I pulled out a dining room chair, turned it around, and bent over, holding the back of the chair. I stayed on the linoleum, aware of the huge potential for squirting in this position.

He came over and grabbed my ass. "Oh. Fuck. Look at this ass!" and he spread my ass cheeks for him to feel and inspect. His fingers explored me fully. "So, you want to be fucked like this? I WONDER why.... naughty girl." He slipped a finger between my legs and then up into my wet vagina.  "Slut, you're already so wet for me! You just want it, don't you?"

I did. He made me spread my legs for him, and then pushed his cock into me. It felt rough and hurt as he didn't wait for my wetness to coat his dick. "Slow down.... your not wet yet.... it hurts a bit."

"Does it still hurt?" He isn't slowing down.

"Its getting better..." He's picking up the pace.

"Good. Then stop complaining and take it like I know you want it." I did.

He fucked rolling his hips up and into me, slowly, not rushing. The slow movements made it feel like his cock was larger than normal as it stretched my vagina for the first time in 3 days. I felt every inch of it slide in and out, forcing its way in me. I could feel him targeting my G-spot and encouraged him with my moans.

When I felt close, I begged him not to stop to keep going, I needed to squirt. I could feel it building in me... and there it was, pouring out of me, days of pent-up lust and tension poured over my legs and our feet. He pulled out to let it pour and watched it splash at our feet.

When I was done, he started to fuck me faster and harder. I gripped the chair and pushed back into him, begging for more. My legs started to ache as he held my shoulders for leverage and I struggled to keep the chair from moving and sliding on the wet linoleum floor.

"On the carpet on your back. I'm not done with you."

I moved quickly to the living room a few feet away, laid down on the floor and spread my legs for him. He knelt down and slid his dick into me, facing me now. He leaned back and stayed shallow, leaving me to beg again for what I wanted. Deeper. Faster. MORE dick.

He just grinned and shook his head. It was on his time. I moved my hips, fucking him as much as I could. He watched my body move under him. He reached across and starting rolling my clit with his thumb, making me pant and moan for even more. I needed to come again, but he pulled out and wouldn't let me have his dick again. I tried to move closer, but he wouldn't give me what I wanted. He watched my body arch and my hips move, trying to get closer to him.

Before I could orgasm from my clit, he pushed suddenly deep into me, resting on his arms above me. He stared down at me, at the look of pure disappointment of not having my orgasm I was sure coming, and the delight of having his dick fully in me again. I had what I wanted, kind of.

My hands moved to my breasts and I started pulling on my nipples and squeezing my breasts. I normally touch my breasts during masturbation, but rarely during sex. That night, I couldn't resist. I needed as much touch as I could get on my body. I massaged my breasts and tugged lightly on my nipples. I saw his expression change from enjoyment of my confusion, to complete distraction.

He couldn't take his eyes off me. He's never seen me play with my breasts so aggressively I watched his eyes transfixed, betraying his arousal at the sight. He was barely fucking me, my breasts and hands were the source of his pleasure. I arched my back and bucked my hips into him to keep my his dick moving in me.

His eyes and face showed me his orgasm was imminent. Seeing him so turned on by me heightened my own pleasure. In that moment all of our desire and being horny culminated in a shared moment of mutual passion and enjoyment - of each other. I turned him on which turned me on... and on through an orgasm that came from deep within my body, causing my legs to pull him to me to orgasm around his dick. He came in loud grunts and moans, barely able to watch my body as he was.

It was a great reunion. Should we have visitors more often?

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Recap: His parents visit

His parents came to visit us, the first time they've done that. We have visited them three times as a couple. The first time I met them was when we were packing up his apartment to move in with me - only three weeks after we had met for the first time! At the time I was afraid they would be against such a quick decision on both our parts, but I've never seen any hesitation or distrust in our relationship, or dislike of me. In fact, quite the opposite.

Most hilarious moment:  We were giving his parents the grand tour of our home, and BF showed them our giant master closet. What is in the center of the doorway? BF's pink high heel shoes! Both parents notice them, and his dad asks me, "Do you actually wear those?" So I lie and say yes, but rarely since I have a weak ankle. In my head my thoughts are as follows: Oh no! We forgot those.... Should I excuse them as "fuck me" heels? NO I CAN'T SAY THAT!!! Oh please don't ask me to try them on... or put them on... they are 4 sizes too big! He didn't ask, and later I threw them on my side of the closet with my other heels. I hope they didn't look closer or they would notice the size difference.

Saddest moment:  On talking colors, I mention something about BF wearing pink, and his dad's homophobia rears its ugly head where he tells me I better not "change his son into a... you know, 'fairy.'" His mom speaks up and reminds dad that BF wore pink as a little boy. Dad shuts up, but its not the only time he makes that kind of comment. BF will never be able to come out as bisexual publicly.

Sweetest moment
Friday night, about 30  minutes after arriving from their 14 hour drive, his dad said to me:

If it had been ANYONE else who had made him move so far away, I'd kill 'em. 

Yummiest moment:  We introduce his parents to Middle Eastern food, specifically to some spiced lamb kebobs cooked by a Jordanian man at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. They are blown away by how good it is.

Oddest momentAt some point we talked about arguing, as we've been doing more of that lately. I fully admitted a lot of it is due to me not letting go of work stress and letting my extra sensitivity affect our relationship. His mom was shocked and said, "I thought you two didn't fight!?" We both laughed and said we do, but its never anything serious or close to relationship ending (like we see on facebook with his older siblings - frequently). She was still surprised, and I'm not sure why she would assume we never fight.

Most loving moment:  My BF and I gave up our bed for his parents for 2 of the 3 nights. His dad has a very bad back and we didn't want him to suffer. His mom can sleep anywhere, no problem. They tried to fight our decision but we over-ruled them. This left me on the couch and my BF on a twin air mattress. 

I could barely sleep, my "princess and the pea" sleeping habits prevented it. Every position felt uncomfortable and awkward. I tossed and turned.  The second night I could barely sleep and I finally sat up and starting crying out of frustration. I realized part of my problem was that I was missing my teeth-guard (I grind my teeth at night) and without that, I never slept well.  It was locked in our bathroom inside our bedroom where his parents were sleeping. 

He heard my restlessness and woke up. 

"What's wrong, beautiful?"

I vented my frustration and lack of sleep, then told him of the missing teeth-guard. He asked where it was and I told him.

He was up and gone before I realized he wasn't lying down anymore. He came back down stairs, placed the teeth-guard in my hand, kissed my forehead, and told me he loved me. 

I was moved. Middle of the night quest to help me sleep and relax. I wasn't going to wake him or ask him to do it. I didn't expect it of him. He held my hand as we laid back down in our respective beds, and I fell asleep for a few peaceful hours.

It's amazing what love can do.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

She called me Elizabeth

A few weeks ago I posted my second audio recording of my orgasm. Overall the feedback was.... overwhelmingly positive. But one comment really, REALLY made my day.

A very lovely, beautiful woman that I have a complete girl-crush on, known as Pumptious Pea, recorded a very short audio clip in response to my recording.

She asked what to call me as... and, knowing it would be public, I gave her my middle name. Elizabeth.

Until this recording, I've never cared for the name.

listen to ‘For Elizabeth..’ on Audioboo

Transcript:
Ohhh... oh my gosh. Elizabeth!     You. Delicious, squirty, howler. You.              Fuck!

Since hearing it, I think I could go with that as my name every day.

My BF, upon hearing her voice, gets an almost instant boner. He is so turned on by her voice. I'm almost forbidden from playing her while he is within hearing distance.

Oh Pea, I wish I could howl for you one day!

If you don't follow @PlumptiousPea on twitter or listen to her hot audio on her blog, you are missing some very sexy aural delights!

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Reunion pt 1

His parents arrive in town on a Friday night and we gave them the only bed in our house, our bed. I slept on the couch while my BF took the air mattress in the living room. The first night, we were too tired to do anything. I slept badly and was so tired the next day, I didn't even think about trying anything. Another horrible nights sleep, I wanted sleep more than sex.

And then Sunday night, we got our bedroom back. We had survived forty-eight hours with only light kisses and very minimal groping. He gropes me more in public than he did in front of his parents.

And there we were, naked in front of each other. I couldn't help but bite my lip looking at him. He was hot. So fucking hot. I couldn't not touch him. I kissed him, body pressed into him, my urgency taking him by surprise. He told me to be patient, we still had to shower and get ready for bed. I just watched his naked body move around our bedroom.

In bed. Lying naked side by side. I kissed him, soft and slow. His body responded with a hand wandering up and down my body. Shivers of pleasure and expectation soon followed with moans.

"Shhhh!" he whispered quietly. "My parents are still downstairs. You have to be absolutely silent or I will stop." I kissed him in response. Very soon, his hand wandered down to my pussy. I spread my legs wide for him. His touch ignited pure lust in me. I felt my stomach tense as his fingers slipped into my cunt, lightly running up against my hard clit.

My mouth opened in pleasure, but I kept my silence. I looked into his eyes and we just started into each other's eyes. He watched my body respond as he started quickly flicking at that spot on my clit that is my orgasm spot. My body arched and my hips started gyrating as he sped up, watching me.

"Stop!" I said, opening my eyes and looking at him.

"What? Why?"

"I want to be.... teased," I replied. "Tease me, please."

Slow. So slow. Too slow. No speeding up. I stared at him, wanting more. More speed, more touch. More pleasure.

"Stick a finger in me... please!"

He started working his finger in a little at a time, letting the wetness cover his finger. He started rubbing me with that "come hither" motion and again my body responded with moving hips and arching back. My eyes closed and my mouth was open, wanting to cry out but forcing myself to be silent. He repositioned his body and started to finger fuck me. Then a finger in me and thumb on me and I couldn't keep silent.

"Oh fuck! oh fuck!" I said in the smallest of whispers.

"Shhh.... or I will stop," he warned me.

My mouth moved in strained silence. He continued to finger fuck me as he saw the orgasm hit me and continue as my pussy gripped his finger. He slowed his movement as he pulled out and wandered back up to my clit. He played with it, moving my clit in little circles, watching how each movement made me twitch and react to his touch.

Finger back in me, deep. He moved it quick and almost rough. It was less than a minute before I was experiencing my second orgasm, which led to a third when I had barely recovered. He mocked me for coming so quickly, but his fingers kept working my cunt.

Another vaginal orgasm, and then he started toying with my clit. But he wasn't doing anything I needed to even come close to an orgasm. I begged. I begged please to give me a clitgasm. Please.

He slowly toyed with my clit, then all of a sudden just attacked it. Quick. Rough. Back and forth. Moans escaped my lips and I couldn't stop them. They were barely audible, but still there. I lost all concentration on looking at my love and just begged for more. He saw me come and my body arched and I almost screamed. He saw my body start to relax just a bit and stopped. My muscles untensed -- and then he resumed his fast clit wiggling and watched my body quickly tense to orgasm in another minute.

I was moaning so softly, he told me to be quiet again. I tried, but could not contain my echos of pleasure.

I turned my attention to him. His cock was so hard after watching me experience 6 orgasms from his hand. I ran my hand softly up and down his dick and his eyes closed as he bit his lip. I pumped a small amount of lube onto my hand and covered his dick with it. His mouth opened in silent gasps of pleasure and I started him in a rhythm of two strokes just up to his head, then one full stroke including his head. Repeat. Each time my hand slid off the head of his penis he mouthed the word "Fuck." I repeated this pattern until he started mouthing it when I wasn't touching his head, so I changed to 6 incomplete strokes to one full, watching his whole body jerk and his silent "Fuck!" when I included his cock in my grip.

So easy, just counting my strokes. Without warning I started doing every-other stroke and his whole face contort in pleasure. His whole body was focused on my hand. His silent fucks came more often and I tightened my grip, squeezing his cock with each pass on his head. He bent his head towards me, and I inclined my lips to his. His hand reached up and kept my lips pressed to his.

There I was, just pressing my lips to his, all his focus on the never ending strokes of my hand. I started going quicker, stronger, tighter. His body was fully tensed and his lips could not move against mine, he just held them there, waiting.

His orgasm spilled cum all over his stomach while he lips kissed me hard, deep, quiet moans were in his throat as he used my lips to keep him silent.

I washed the lube off my hands while he wiped up his abundant spilled come. We cuddled naked and feel asleep.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

TMI Tuesday: Random!

Hey, hey, hey, hey…Time to get random again on TMI Tuesday. Why? Because it is fun to know random stuff about you; it can reveal a lot about your personality.

1. Tell us about your sluttiest act ever.
Ever?  Well, that depends on your definition of slutty. It's pretty slutty to meet a guy online, bring him to your apartment after only spending a few hours with him, strip naked, shower with him, and spend 15 hours having sex. But you know, that's just me. (Wanna read more about that? Part 1 and Part 2 of our first 24 hours together). 

2. Have you ever played air-guitar. . .naked?
 No... can't say I have. I've played drums naked. And by drums, I mean my boobs or my BF's ass.

3. To what song do you most like to play air-guitar either clothed or naked?
 Oh, I freestyles my naked music playing.

4. Are you good in bed? Why?
Of course I am! All 2 men I've been with have said so. OK one of them was a virgin, but the other one has had 7+ partners and I'm the only one who has made him have the best (and sometimes only) orgasm for hand, oral, sex, pegging, and prostate massage.

On a serious note, I'm good because I listen and pay attention. Oh, and I like to be creative. Even though I don't have a dick, I can imagine pretty well what would feel good on it.

5. What FEELS Sexy to you–tactile sensation? (Leave sight and taste out of this)
Fingers. Tongue. My BF's back against my breasts. Big, strong, muscular arms. Silk. Cotton. Water. Purring.

Bonus: Write a six word autobiography.
Lost in world, then found purpose

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

Thursday, October 4, 2012

When I want to start having sex

On twitter, @Saynine asked the question - does anyone wait 6 dates or more for sex? He had seen this response on OK Cupid and was a little surprised at the length of time. A very respectful, healthy discussion followed among a large group of people. On the whole, most people had sex earlier than six dates.  Their reason? Sexual compatibility before emotional compatibility.

For me, this just doesn't jive. I can't actually imagine having my priorities that way. Just thinking about approaching life that way makes my brain say, "YOU CAN'T DO THAT! THAT'S CRAZY!" Ok, calm down brain. I'm not asking you to change who you are. At least I know my mental/emotional limits.

I have absolutely nothing against someone who can live life successfully this way - really. I fully respect people are different and can have sex on the first date and end up happy together (just like @saynine and a bunch of other twitter people have). For me, it's just not how I approach life and relationships. That conversation happened early 8 hours ago but I haven't stopped thinking about it.

Why did so many feel comfortable with sex on the first date when it seemed so few responded that that was too soon? Does my background/upbringing impact this more than I realize? Why, exactly, do I feel so strongly against this?

Let's start with a few disclaimers.
  1. First, as I've mentioned several times, I've only had 2 sexual partners. My experience on dating and starting a sexual relationship is limited.
  2. Also, I've never been on an actual first date. Let me explain: I started dating my first partner in college. We hung out for months and we were around each other so much that people assumed we were dating, so we just started dating under the logic, "Everyone thinks we are, so let's give it a shot and see if it's the good idea everyone else seems to think it is." Yeah, I was an idiot. (In my defense, I was only 17 and had only long-distance dated 1 other person.)  But once we first started "dating" officially, we didn't go out on any official dates. We just continued hanging out like we always had. Then when I started dating the boyfriend, but we met long distance. Our first "date" was more than a month after we started dating long distance. We were already skype masturbating, so sex upon meeting made sense.
  3. I grew up in a very conservative, Christian home. Sex was not discussed. You didn't kiss anyone unless you loved them. Sex was only OK within marriage... etc. You know the type. This whole background was a major part of the problem why my first sexual relationship failed: I had no idea what you should be looking for in a potential sexual partner or relationship. I didn't know what to think about, look for, and had no idea there was quite a range of sexual preference and tastes. 
OK, so disclaimers out of the way. Does this explain why I can't imagine sleeping with someone on the first date? No... really, I see my reasoning exists outside of these experiences:
  1. I don't trust people that easily. Yes, I'll take you at your word up until a point. However, I have no way of knowing you're telling me the truth when we've only just met. How do I know you're telling me the truth on what you want, are interested in, or your last STD test was as clean as you say it was? How do I know you're not going to use me to get off and not call me again? 
  2. Before you even kiss me, I want to know we have chemistry. Flirt with me, show me interest, let's get to know each other. Can we even flirt? I've had men flirt with me and I've been repulsed by it. Just because you're attracted to me, I won't be attracted to you.
  3. I have to be attracted to you, and I'm not automatically attracted to someone. Personality is a huge part of attraction for me. I am not attracted to the physical outright. I need time to let my attraction grow.
  4. I'm not a fan of casual sex. I prefer sex within a relationship. A relationship doesn't happen overnight or after a date or two. It takes time to develop.
  5. Sex can be confusing. I've seen it happen with friends... the sex is great, but the rest of the relationship sucks. It muddies the waters. You can't see clearly and you end up staying in a relationship when you really should end it. I don't ever want to be in that situation. I need to establish the rest of my relationship -- and then bring sex into the equation.
These are all reasons why just meeting someone and jumping into sex or swinging won't work for me. I need time and a relationship first. I need feelings, chemistry, anticipation. I don't want a one time thing. It's not for me. If it works for you, then I wish you safe and enjoyable sex in whatever form of relationship you are looking for. 

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Quickie update

In bullet points, because that's about all I have the energy for right now:

Update from me:
  • His parents are coming to visit and stay with us this coming weekend. First time they've made the trip to see us. I like them. They've been very welcoming and automatically accepted me when we first started dating. They are also pressure-free when it comes to marriage and potential offspring. But, as a perfectionist and entertainer at heart, I'm already starting to stress.
  • I'm considering adding a wishlist and a "Tip me" place to my blog. I figure it couldn't hurt and the most I have to gain is something really cool and/or sexy.
  • Winter is coming and I'm feeling the "no winter shaving" coming on. I'm not a fan of shaving my legs in general, but in the winter its especially annoying. My boyfriend doesn't care, thank goodness, but I'm not sure how this would look in my foot fetish posts.
  • I need to start working out. It's time to kick this body into super-sexy shape! 
  • Blog writing: I have 5 posts in draft right now. Some should be done within the next week or two, but I think one or two may take a while still. Formulating my thoughts on a couple of subject has my wheels spinning.
  • I STILL have not given the boyfriend his pop-rocks BJ as I promised him nearly 2 weeks ago I would. I've not been feeling in the BJ mood and now he's starting to ask when its going to happen.... can't say I blame his impatience, but sometimes you just don't want to do certain sexual things and for whatever reason I'm not feeling very.... orally horny right now.
  • This afternoon we had such an intimate quickie. Oh it was passionate and wonderful. He kissed me and made out with me before making me come from his fingers and then he fucked me slowly, ending with just a medium pace while he sat up, gripping my boobs in a vice grip arms straight out in front of him, staring down at me, eyes locked. I could see his arms and shoulder muscles tensed with the motion of thrusting in me. He collapsed on my breasts moaning softly right as he came. It was beautiful, tender, and yet so full of masculine energy that I was overwhelmed with how .... HOT and BEAUTIFUL this man and his love and attraction for me is. It blew me away.
I need your help:
  • Later this week: Pick my next pedicure color! I'm going to put it to a vote...
  • Blog reading: I have a very hard time keeping up on blogs that are not on blogger and have the Google Friend connect. That's the easiest way for me to keep up because I see all the latest entries when I check my own blog. How do I keep up with all the misc Wordpress/self-hosted blogs out there? I don't want an email from each blog and I also don't want to have to visit each blog to see if there's an update. I feel so blog-ignorant asking this question. Help!
  • Halloween. I'm not a big fan of Halloween. I think the last time I dressed up I was... 8, so 20 years ago. My boyfriend is dying to dress up -- I have no idea what to do for a costume. I'd like to do something work appropriate as they always dress up there, as well. Any ideas for something that a little sexy yet work appropriate?

Monday, October 1, 2012

A new way to orgasm

In June during our no sex pact, we were horny and drive to suck and finger each other as much as we could. Nothing brought the relief of we needed: fucking. But during this frenzied, unleashed passion we discovered for each other, we discovered a new way to make me orgasm. A way neither of us expected.

It started with me begging him to eat me out. My need for orgasms was not to be sated, no matter how long he licked and sucked at me. Five orgasms came so quickly but I still felt wanting. His mouth had been so hot and warm. I was so turned on with desire that I couldn't beg enough for more or orgasm loud enough. The orgasms passed too quickly.

The entire time his mouth had been on me, my hands had been jerking on his very hard dick. The more he made me come, the harder and faster I wanted to jack him off. I wanted him to come, but I didn't want to stop coming myself.

After orgasm number five, I told him it was his turn. He thought his work was done, but not quite. I had him lay down on his back, then I crawled on top, positioning my pussy above his mouth.

"Lick," was all I had to say. And he did. Slightly pulling my pussy lips wide, he slid his tongue in between my pussy lips. My head sank down to his cock, sucking the head of it. He responded with tongue-fucking my vagina. I moaned into his cock, stilling my head and just letting my tongue express how good I was feeling.

He moaned into me and pressed himself as far as he could into my body. My lips became incapable of holding his cock. I pulled my right hand off the bed and resumed jerking off his cock. My head was resting against the head of his penis, moaning, it was all the control my mouth had.

I thought he would complain about the loss of my tongue, but when I started to jerk him off, he became more aggressive. His tongue worked me even quicker. I came. And then came again.

How many more times could I come? I lost track. I jerked on his cock, barely able told myself off the bed. My left wrist ached supporting myself on the bed while my right was jerking him off into my breasts which were snuggling around his cock. I could barely maintain my position keeping my body from collapsing onto him in pleasure.

My whole body felt pleasure from jerking him off and feeling his pleasure repeated in tongue. His hands wandered around my ass and hips. Then he changed tactics.

His fingers pulled apart my ass cheeks and his tongue wandered up to my asshole. His tongue dragged my cum up and swirled around me hot and wet. My surprised was echoed in a loud moan, and then softened by complete surrender to this new pleasure.

He paused only to make the quick comment, "Oh, you're asshole tastes so good.... yes, keep going baby! Mmm..." All I could do was bow my head and moan into his body. His cock was almost swallowed by my breasts and my hand was struggling to move through the heavy masses. My left wrist was abandoned for my elbow as my strength was almost entirely lost.

He licked and flicked my asshole with his tongue - and then I came. Hard. I screamed into hip and I felt my asshole pucker as he continued to lick at it while my hips bucked against him.

When I calmed, he asked, "Did you just orgasm?" in disbelief. Neither of us expected that. All I could do was moan affirmatively in response.

And then he licked at me again. More. I came three more times from his tongue licking my ass. He kissed me but when he flicked across my pucker and even prodded me with his tongue, I came so hard. He came while I screamed through my third orgasm, the extreme pleasure forcing my hand in swift, hard movements on his cock until he exploded on to my breasts.

I lay panting on the bed, satisfied for the moment. I had never had an orgasm from anal pleasure. He says he had given me a rim job before today, but I don't remember it. If it did happen, it was nothing like what had just happened to me. It felt like I had seen starts and felt them spread through my entire body.

He said my asshole tasted sweet.

The next night, we did it all over again and I came 10 times.