My orgasm was lost. I don’t know where it went, but for a month and a half it was gone. I checked under the sofa cushions and in all my purses, still no orgasm. Seriously though, it was gone, and I actually didn’t notice for a while which was actually pretty odd. I don’t have a regular sexual partner right now so that might be contributing, but I still like to masturbate. While I was enjoying some great sexual fantasies, I never got my rocks off! I can think my way into some great situations and sexploitations but I can’t write my conclusion. I would try to masturbate, but would get bored halfway through and fall asleep; it was just taking too long. I didn’t notice it until recently when it happened again but it was in the afternoon and I already had my nap of the day, so going to sleep just seemed silly. I had to do something, but once you start worrying about something, especially an orgasm, it makes it harder to achieve. I had to do something, I couldn’t just wait for it to come back, I needed to have my orgasm back.
I’ve went to the tried and true place for quick solo sex; Internet porn. But no, it wasn’t doing it. It usually sucks, I’m not a big staged porn fan, but you can find a few gems of some good fucking. As long as the woman looks like she’s wet; I enjoy watching it. I think it’s so hard to fake real stimulation that when someone looks like they are enjoying getting banged, then I can use that to stimulate myself.
But nothing was doing it! Have my tastes become more discriminating? Those lesbian porns are just way too staged, it makes me sick actually. When you can tell they are just doing it for the paycheck it makes me feel dirty. Although I do like the ones that are blatant in their exposure, I like to know you are filming smut and that everyone in the room knows that you are doing something taboo for the world to see. I have a problem with a lot of the femdom stuff too, no one looks happy in those. I want you to be doing it because you get off on being an exhibitionist, not because you need the paycheck and have loose morals. It always looks too clinical and staged, like a bad play. I know I just contradicted myself, I like blatant plays, not badly staged ones. When they look like they’re enjoying fucking, both the man and the woman (or whatever combo) you can tell. (Well, I can) Even the amateur stuff, which used to be enough, looks too scripted. Sadly this opening of the sex industry to amateurs due to the Internet has created a whole new industry that has now also becoming commodified. There are woman who know they can make cash in amateur porn, (Talking to you Cordelia from bad girls!) and they try to look the part, it ruins it. Sorry all you “amateur” porn sites. And while I am ranting, European porn doesn’t do it for me either, yet again it makes me feel dirty since I know these women are being exploited. And not in a good way.
BUT
I came across this one website. Mind you I didn’t do any of the reading when I opened the page, I just went straight for the clips. They had potential, one woman had her legs spread and was masturbating while another woman had her nails wrapped through this guy’s wet curls holding his head close to her exposed crotch. He wasn’t too bad to look at and, wait…woah. This might work. They called him names, a gaggle of women could be heard in the background, teasing and taunting. The woman looked excited, she pushes him around and he looks like he enjoys it. He does as he’s told. He kisses her boots, he stares at her cunt, he moves his head when the woman holding him pushes it in a direction. The woman comes on his face, he’s dripping, she then grabs his head pulls him closer and smacks him across the face. (My personal favorite face slap, the hair hold and cheek slap) She smacks him while calling him a sick fuck, he agrees. I think I found my orgasm.
Then, when the afterglow is over I read the site….
eeeew bukakke, eeeeewww what is this shit?!?! To urban dictionary I go. I’ve heard the term being thrown around but this didn’t fit my understanding of the term. I thought it’s a girl who likes facials and being a cum slut. And according to the wise world of urban dictionary I am not off the mark. How can they be selling this femdom as bukakke because she has a g-spot orgasm and squirts on his face (oh, did I forget to mention that part, he’s wet for a reason). To my knowledge, those orgasms are hardest to fake, so that was a plus. And he was totally enjoying being called nasty and dirty and he WAS nasty and dirty, covered and wet…and gorgeous. He was wet and nasty and had big ole dopey sub eyes.
So now I’m torn by finding this incredibly hot, the submission, his doe eyes, the vulgarity of it, but I was also disgusted and skeeved, eeeew bukake. Don’t congressmen admit to shit like that during sex scandals?
I still don’t want to pee on people, I have problems peeing without putting the faucet on, and as someone who is anally clean, it just doesn’t look appealing.
Facials, not my bag either I don’t want cum in my eye or on my body, its sticky.
So why did I like this so much?
It didn’t look overdone, and the people involved were enjoying it, and the man was on his knees and cute and sadly covered in something drippy, I didn’t pay for the film, no need, I just needed a boost.
And that got me off,
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Thursday, April 17, 2008
A lil' Jesus
I received an email the other day. It was a forward that was sent to me twice by two different groups of college friends. It was an email from a girl who is now engaged to an alumnus of my undergraduate institution. It was two detailed emails she sent her friends about how she met her now fiancé and how he proposed. There were tons of Jesus references and they both apparently really love God. He proposed by quoting her scripture. Now, don’t get me wrong, this is definitely not the way I see my proposal going, if someone started quoting bible versus to me, they would be met with a blank stare and wonderment in my part about how we got this far as a couple. But it really bothered me. I was excited when I received this now viral forward that has been sent through her undergraduate institution, their alumni as well as mine. I was expecting something incredibly damaging, but then once I read it, I just felt dirty.
I want to be able to practice me sexual life in private (well besides blogging) and the fact that people from both of their colleges as well as random friends throughout the continental United States and I’m sure some Western European countries now know the most special and private moment of their lives together. Yes she called her friends her “soul sisters” and yes he did quote scripture in his proposal, and yes she is waiting until marriage to have sex which explains why they have only been dating for seven months, but that’s up to them. There were comments attached to this email from people who had forwarded it, chiming in on her religiosity and stupidity. I participated in this sort of thing in high school and college, public shaming of people’s private lives, and I’m not doing it as an adult. And I thought my friends were bigger than that too, I guess not.
The comments by random people who are not part of their lives are despicable; people mentioning their divorce, how funny this is, how you will need a barf bag to read her obviously happy email concerning what to her is probably the happiest day of her life.
Little excerpt:
"Bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh."
These words were the first words Adam said to Eve (Genesis 2:23). The first words spoken from a man to his wife. Essentially saying, God has made you to be a part of me and me to be a part of you.
I think its quite lovely and I can only think about what these two are going through now that they know that they are being publicly mocked for their belief in God and their desire to be together. It’s not my cup of tea, but if I want my sexual choices accepted I will accept the choices of others. This includes the pregnant man on Oprah and his family to this religious couple who want to celebrate their love by saying it was God’s will. I don’t want to sound like I am scolding my friends, or lose them because I refuse to participate in this sort of behavior anymore, but I am not about humiliating people for their choices no matter what side of the spectrum they fall under.
I want to be able to practice me sexual life in private (well besides blogging) and the fact that people from both of their colleges as well as random friends throughout the continental United States and I’m sure some Western European countries now know the most special and private moment of their lives together. Yes she called her friends her “soul sisters” and yes he did quote scripture in his proposal, and yes she is waiting until marriage to have sex which explains why they have only been dating for seven months, but that’s up to them. There were comments attached to this email from people who had forwarded it, chiming in on her religiosity and stupidity. I participated in this sort of thing in high school and college, public shaming of people’s private lives, and I’m not doing it as an adult. And I thought my friends were bigger than that too, I guess not.
The comments by random people who are not part of their lives are despicable; people mentioning their divorce, how funny this is, how you will need a barf bag to read her obviously happy email concerning what to her is probably the happiest day of her life.
Little excerpt:
"Bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh."
These words were the first words Adam said to Eve (Genesis 2:23). The first words spoken from a man to his wife. Essentially saying, God has made you to be a part of me and me to be a part of you.
I think its quite lovely and I can only think about what these two are going through now that they know that they are being publicly mocked for their belief in God and their desire to be together. It’s not my cup of tea, but if I want my sexual choices accepted I will accept the choices of others. This includes the pregnant man on Oprah and his family to this religious couple who want to celebrate their love by saying it was God’s will. I don’t want to sound like I am scolding my friends, or lose them because I refuse to participate in this sort of behavior anymore, but I am not about humiliating people for their choices no matter what side of the spectrum they fall under.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Mile High Club
I need to be honest, the reason I haven’t been writing is partly due to the fact I didn’t want to admit some things to myself. The new boy, the one who looked so promising is not exactly the best person in the world. He is very perceptive and knows the things about myself that I might not be 100% comfortable with and uses them against me. I know my flaws, I don’t need to be reminded of them constantly. That is not healthy, and makes me feel really awful. I am limiting what little contact I have with him and trying to expand my options. I think I just need to not think about men, a hiatus if you will. Like primetime network programming (but its soooo hard!!!)
So with no men to regularly keep me warm at night, I have done what I do best. Retreat into fantasy.
On the way back from WMC I sat across from the most delicious man. I’m from the tri-state area (NY, NJ, CT), I’m not going to give you more details, but coming from a suburb outside of Manhattan I am very familiar with a certain type of man. They are incredibly vulnerable, yet like to appear hard. So, on my flight, hopped up on xanax and a glass of red wine, I stared at this guy for the entire flight. Thank god he slept most of the time or he would have thought I was a pervert (ok, I am a little).
He’s probably in his 20s, I’d say of Italian descent (not real Italian, NY/NJ/CT Italian, a different breed all together), shaved head, roman profile with deep brown eyes and long almost feminine lashes. He actually looks like an ex boyfriend, but better, bigger, sweeter. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, bright shockingly white Nikes, and jeans, just a hint of a tribal band tattoo peeking out of his sleeve. Large flashy watch dangling on his left wrist with thick fingers that look like they either work for a living or are calloused from the gym, probably a little of both. I would say not taller than 5’10”. His mouth is slightly open as he tries to sleep in the small airplane seat. I open my mouth unconsciously, then realize I just did that and blush. His lips are full with a slight upturn on the left side. I am a sucker for that Italian asshole snarl and he has it in spades. I want that smile, with the left side turned up, that cocky demeanor over me. I want that mouth smirking at me while I’m being fucked hard and good. There is something to be said for a cocky attitude and shit-eating grin that gets me all the time.
I fantasize about running my hands over his arms tracing his tattoo, looking for more, maybe something on his back, calf, I want to look everywhere. Running my hands and nails over his buzzed head tracing down the back of his nape, making him shiver. They appear tough, but nothing gets this type like a little seduction. I would scratch a little and run my thumb over his lower lip and watch him smile under my finger, straddling him while I felt the softness of those full lips. I would slowly make circles with my hips, nothing too noticeable, balancing my weight, only lightly touching him. I would Grab the back of his neck and bring that cocky mouth close to mine, forcing it into silence as I kiss him gently then taking liberties, and use more force pull him closer with my hand behind his neck all the while grinding harder and lower into his crotch, feeling his cock through his jeans. I would move back and take him in, running my hands up and down his body, feeling that soft tanned olive skin. I would smile, giving him a snarl of my own. I lift his white t-shirt over his head deeply inhaling his cologne and natural male smell. It would be Aqua or Angel for men or one of those other fragrances that guys like that always like to wear, something slightly musky and overbearing. Just like his watch, overly flashy. I squirm in my seat as I stare at him as he scratches his head from front to back.
I would lift myself off his crotch gently playing with the waistband of his jeans. He tries to help, eagerly moving his hands closer fumbling with his buttons. I give him a look and move his hands away, placing one on my lower back, the other at his side. I run my hands over his chest, pushing slightly not saying anything but letting him know, this is my show. His hands go where I want them. He growls deep in his throat and moves close to my neck, biting me hard. I moan and try not to fall back onto his crotch. I wrap my hand around his neck keeping him firmly in place as I open his fly with the other hand, freeing his cock from his boxer briefs. He starts whispering dirty things into my ear, moving his free hand down my collarbone. I wrap my small hand around his fat cock. It’s not large but its thick. I get chills as I feel my shirt move down and feel each finger as it grazes my chest. He unzips my shirt exposing my bra. He looks in my eyes as he teases the skin right above the cup of my left breast. I squeeze his cock and reach lower massaging his balls. The anticipation is killing me, for all my big talk and attitude, I want this to end soon, I need to come. I move trying to get his hand to touch my nipple; I want those rough fingers to touch all the sensitive places on my body. He looks at my breast and then up at me through those long brown eyelashes, maintaining eye contact he runs his hand from my collarbone to my breast, cupping it then using his thumb to circle my nipple then pinch it gently. My eyes roll back in my head and he steadies me with the hand that still sits on my lower back and he laughs a little to himself.
Shit, he wakes up…. does he know I am picturing us almost fucking? Am I blushing? He adjusts himself, stretches I realize I am holding my breath like he can read my thoughts. He places one hand on his inner thigh and I know my mouth is open now, possibly drooling as the stewardess collects my empty tomato juice. He’s wearing a chain, I wonder if it holds dog tags or a cross. I want to find out, reach into that soft white shirt and pull them out and wrap the chain tightly around his neck and nibble from ear to collar bone. I want to feel those arms wrap around me as he pulls me close, removes my bra. (While I was staring at the real man, the fantasy M Leah removed her pants and panties). I lower myself feeling him slowly enter me and wonder if anyone else on the plane thinks it’s getting hot in here. He leans me back then lowers his head to my nipple and sucks on it using his teeth to bite every now and again. His cock is pushing out of his jeans and his black boxer briefs and as I lower myself I can feel both fabrics, the scratchy denim and the soft cotton on my thighs. I use my thighs to steady the pace, feeling every inch of him. I wonder if the guy sitting next to me knows what’s going on in my head right now, that I am having dirty wild monkey sex.
It kind of reminded me of this:
So with no men to regularly keep me warm at night, I have done what I do best. Retreat into fantasy.
On the way back from WMC I sat across from the most delicious man. I’m from the tri-state area (NY, NJ, CT), I’m not going to give you more details, but coming from a suburb outside of Manhattan I am very familiar with a certain type of man. They are incredibly vulnerable, yet like to appear hard. So, on my flight, hopped up on xanax and a glass of red wine, I stared at this guy for the entire flight. Thank god he slept most of the time or he would have thought I was a pervert (ok, I am a little).
He’s probably in his 20s, I’d say of Italian descent (not real Italian, NY/NJ/CT Italian, a different breed all together), shaved head, roman profile with deep brown eyes and long almost feminine lashes. He actually looks like an ex boyfriend, but better, bigger, sweeter. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, bright shockingly white Nikes, and jeans, just a hint of a tribal band tattoo peeking out of his sleeve. Large flashy watch dangling on his left wrist with thick fingers that look like they either work for a living or are calloused from the gym, probably a little of both. I would say not taller than 5’10”. His mouth is slightly open as he tries to sleep in the small airplane seat. I open my mouth unconsciously, then realize I just did that and blush. His lips are full with a slight upturn on the left side. I am a sucker for that Italian asshole snarl and he has it in spades. I want that smile, with the left side turned up, that cocky demeanor over me. I want that mouth smirking at me while I’m being fucked hard and good. There is something to be said for a cocky attitude and shit-eating grin that gets me all the time.
I fantasize about running my hands over his arms tracing his tattoo, looking for more, maybe something on his back, calf, I want to look everywhere. Running my hands and nails over his buzzed head tracing down the back of his nape, making him shiver. They appear tough, but nothing gets this type like a little seduction. I would scratch a little and run my thumb over his lower lip and watch him smile under my finger, straddling him while I felt the softness of those full lips. I would slowly make circles with my hips, nothing too noticeable, balancing my weight, only lightly touching him. I would Grab the back of his neck and bring that cocky mouth close to mine, forcing it into silence as I kiss him gently then taking liberties, and use more force pull him closer with my hand behind his neck all the while grinding harder and lower into his crotch, feeling his cock through his jeans. I would move back and take him in, running my hands up and down his body, feeling that soft tanned olive skin. I would smile, giving him a snarl of my own. I lift his white t-shirt over his head deeply inhaling his cologne and natural male smell. It would be Aqua or Angel for men or one of those other fragrances that guys like that always like to wear, something slightly musky and overbearing. Just like his watch, overly flashy. I squirm in my seat as I stare at him as he scratches his head from front to back.
I would lift myself off his crotch gently playing with the waistband of his jeans. He tries to help, eagerly moving his hands closer fumbling with his buttons. I give him a look and move his hands away, placing one on my lower back, the other at his side. I run my hands over his chest, pushing slightly not saying anything but letting him know, this is my show. His hands go where I want them. He growls deep in his throat and moves close to my neck, biting me hard. I moan and try not to fall back onto his crotch. I wrap my hand around his neck keeping him firmly in place as I open his fly with the other hand, freeing his cock from his boxer briefs. He starts whispering dirty things into my ear, moving his free hand down my collarbone. I wrap my small hand around his fat cock. It’s not large but its thick. I get chills as I feel my shirt move down and feel each finger as it grazes my chest. He unzips my shirt exposing my bra. He looks in my eyes as he teases the skin right above the cup of my left breast. I squeeze his cock and reach lower massaging his balls. The anticipation is killing me, for all my big talk and attitude, I want this to end soon, I need to come. I move trying to get his hand to touch my nipple; I want those rough fingers to touch all the sensitive places on my body. He looks at my breast and then up at me through those long brown eyelashes, maintaining eye contact he runs his hand from my collarbone to my breast, cupping it then using his thumb to circle my nipple then pinch it gently. My eyes roll back in my head and he steadies me with the hand that still sits on my lower back and he laughs a little to himself.
Shit, he wakes up…. does he know I am picturing us almost fucking? Am I blushing? He adjusts himself, stretches I realize I am holding my breath like he can read my thoughts. He places one hand on his inner thigh and I know my mouth is open now, possibly drooling as the stewardess collects my empty tomato juice. He’s wearing a chain, I wonder if it holds dog tags or a cross. I want to find out, reach into that soft white shirt and pull them out and wrap the chain tightly around his neck and nibble from ear to collar bone. I want to feel those arms wrap around me as he pulls me close, removes my bra. (While I was staring at the real man, the fantasy M Leah removed her pants and panties). I lower myself feeling him slowly enter me and wonder if anyone else on the plane thinks it’s getting hot in here. He leans me back then lowers his head to my nipple and sucks on it using his teeth to bite every now and again. His cock is pushing out of his jeans and his black boxer briefs and as I lower myself I can feel both fabrics, the scratchy denim and the soft cotton on my thighs. I use my thighs to steady the pace, feeling every inch of him. I wonder if the guy sitting next to me knows what’s going on in my head right now, that I am having dirty wild monkey sex.
It kind of reminded me of this:
Friday, April 4, 2008
My Miami-vention
After a rough couple months (still not over sadly) I am feeling good. I went to WMC (Winter Music Conference) in Miami this past weekend and had a blast. I went by myself and stayed with college friends who live in the area. This was my favorite part of the weekend.
sigh
sigh
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)