Something to groove to

This is how I heal my hurts



And for the kickass music video that won't let me embed.

Link

I am not as smart as I seem. A lesson

I have to work at building intimacy; it’s kind of hard to realize that. It takes years to develop a rapport with someone to the point that you can share certain things with them. But I feel, after having a conversation with a friend of mine that maybe I didn’t do a good enough job creating a safe space.
It’s so amazing when you have a conversation with someone and it totally clicks that you have been doing things all wrong. I demand utter compliance yet I never make it clear that I will not throw it back in your face and make you truly face humiliation by exposing you in a way that is unsafe and awful. How did this escape me? It is way too much to demand from someone submission without making them feel comfortable with their wants and need to submit, and I apologize. I cannot put all the blame on my last boyfriends[fuck buddies/lovers] because I never allowed myself to really take on that responsibility and let them be. Will this help my new relationship, let’s hope so. But I also feel that too much talk scares guys away. These things are more than just kinky sex, its feelings, its emotions, its knowing that when someone says they have a fantasy of being fucked in the ass with a strap on that you won’t laugh at them (too much) or tell all their friends. And while I feel I wouldn’t betray that, I never explicitly said, this is a safe space where there is nothing you can do or say that will make me think less of you.
I didn’t do that with TB (the boy) and I demanded that level with the Music Man, but never provided that cushion.
With TB, it was different. It was new to me, and I was worried enough trying to keep up with him and his fantasies that I’m sure my responses could have been better. But while my reaction might not be what you want, I am willing to look into it and not judge you. We never spoke about that though, and that is where we failed. I tried to talk, but whenever we did, it turned into a hurt feelings discussion about how I wanted more from him in order for me to continue, not I need to give first and welcome him into my arms.
Communication is so key to all this, yet so freaking hard to get over that hurdle of propriety and possible soul crushing hurt, I feel this is harder than any of the weird kinky shit. I need to openly and without expectation be able to create a safe space and bring my walls down a little and let you feel comfortable in order to make us both feel better and move forward. There was never malice or deceit behind my inability to do this, just self-preservation and a little innocent ignorance.

The training of a top or finally learning how to do this shiz.

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Giving Thanks

Ok, so I am enjoying becoming an adult. I think I am good at it. I started this blog to work through sexual issues and I think I am going to move into working through issues in general. I don’t want to limit myself to only sexual self-discovery. It doesn’t mean I don’t have bouts of insecurity or doubt or worry about who I am, my life choices and my place in this large world. But I find that at the right time in my life certain things cross my path to help me work through things. For instance, I am reading Cornel West right now to try to figure out general dissertation problems. It’s helping, not necessarily the meat and potatoes of my grand opus, but its really helping me think through my process of lifelong learning.
“I have never aspired to be a professional academic or scholar. Instead, I have tried to be a man of letters In love with ideas in order to be a wiser and more loving person, hoping to leave the world just a little better than I found it. I take great delight in the free play of the mind, and I believe intellectual work is indespebable for social change…So I speak of my intellectual work and life as a calling, not a career; a vocation, not a profession.
George Yancy. African-American Philosophers: 17 Conversations.

I loved this quote. It hit on the head how I approach everything I do and how I deconstruct and analyze myself and the world around me. Sometimes this blog can be salacious, but I hope that with my openness and candid discussions of sexuality I can hopefully encourage others to explore their own thereby widening the possibilities for thought, desire and human interaction. A lofty goal indeed, but if it fails, at least I learn more about myself.

I give thanks to my family for allowing me to be an explorer and not a drone, to question authority and the institutions and structures that lull us into complicity. While we all fall into its trappings, sometimes its best just to be aware.

So what I am struggling with right now is a few things.
1- focus: I have none. I can’t focus on a single task for more than 20 minutes. I don’t think I have an actual attention disorder, I just have not trained myself to work constructively. Will have to work on this. I need to stop checking Perez Hilton, the LOL cats and Huffington Post constantly.
2- Calmness and neediness when concerned with my new man: I am needy and he is aloof. I need to be better and discussing my concerns and feelings without coming across as a crazy person. I have never really had a serious relationship, which I think is probably a red flag for any new suitor and I don’t want to scare him by bringing up my issues. But I want him to be more attentive. All my friends say this comes with time. I want to be open with him and discuss my feelings and all those itchy sweater emotions that I hate bringing up, but I don’t know how to start. All I want is like 10% more from him. It’s not that he doesn’t like me or doesn’t want to spend time with me. But in my insecurity I always feel like I am filling the silences, making the plans and generally forcing things forward because I fear he won’t. How does one get over this nasty habit thereby allowing him to take some control and lessening my neediness in return? Sheeesh.

Giving head, more specifically sucking my new man's dick.

So I gave the best blowjob of my life, I really like this new guy. I still have not found something I dislike. He’s a man, which is a new avenue for me. Like bill paying, home owning, responsible mild-mannered man. I told him I want more dirty talk, the response “But I’m not that good at it”. Ok, that got me wet right away. Something to work on with him! It got to the point that I kept telling him he needed to narrate what was going on, it was hard for him, but so sexy to watch him strain for words and try to say them without blushing. Ok, I can’t continue because I’m at work.
I love cock, I seriously do. I have always enjoyed giving head. Big penis, small penises: penis. I get off on giving head, I love to look up at a man, drunk with lust, as I give him large doe eyes while my mouth is full of cock, his cock. It makes me smirk. I think I get more turned on by giving head than receiving it. And new guy who I think I am going to call Clark Kent, wow I love the faces he makes. He opens his mouth so slightly and it’s so hot. I am obsessed with mouths. I love watching them do things. I love watching his do things. Watching him slowly circle my nipple, ugh. I want to take a picture, keep that image. Being able to watch his mouth strain is just as enticing as watching it say dirty words. Ok yet again, need to move on, am at work.
He sat on the couch and I was in between his legs (sorry roomie, I promise that I will leave the house long enough so you can have dirty time in the living room too) Great position, I was able to watch him the entire time. The eye contact was seriously intense. He had a stiff neck, from no joke, a reading injury. (Honestly, how cute is that?)
Watching him watch me was intense. He kept his mouth slightly open and the level of interest and single-minded focus was super hot. And I teased the shit out of him. Looking up at him with his cock in my mouth, honestly I cannot think of anything hotter (given time, probably, but too focused on super sexy blow job). Big blue eyes looking up at you while I smile around your dick, slowly biting just so you can see my teeth on that sensitive skin. I even threw in a Sarah Palin wink, which sent us both laughing. Sex should always have comic relief. If you can laugh with a dick in your mouth, you won’t feel so embarrassed when something goes wrong, (and it always will; a large fart/qweif/knee in wrong place/fall of bed, etc). Sometimes it’s always good to go to the tried and true sexual mores and a good blowjob is one of them. You gotta get into it or its just not the same, I always bring my A game when I suck dick, and this time was no different. But there was just this added level of electricity; I was feeding off his response. I felt parasitic; I don’t know how else to describe it. I kept my mouth open a lot so he can watch his cock go in and out. And of course, being a guy, he enjoyed just watching his cock hit the side of my cheek before I would swirl my tongue over and without hands trace the head then suck it into my mouth. It was so pornographic.
I can do all these fun things with his penis and not feel like I’m going to choke. I can deep throat it and with the back of my throat massage the head. Just the level of dirtiness and intensity took it over the edge for both of us. The eye contact that only broke when I had to get serious, but being the tease I am, I just kept bringing him to the edge then bringing him back down. I kept on correcting his posture too. He kept slipping down the couch, getting really excited and moving lower. But it would make keeping eye contact difficult. So I would stop, slowing run my nails down his side and make him fix his position. I was so turned on. I love sucking cock, and his is the perfect size and his responses are addictive, sex with him has the possibility of being like a drug.

New Boy and a self discovery

I learned a few new things about myself and perhaps my kink today. I find it incredibly awesome to be able to document these discoveries even though I have no interest to revisit past posts. That would be too embarrassing.
So I’ve been dating this new guy for a while now and I don’t see any visible red flags. And “a while” for me, is like a month. Even my grandmother said, [said in Jewish voice similar to mother from The Nanny] “if he makes it four months, then I will start asking questions about him”. Mind you she also told me to be a lady in public and a whore in the bedroom, if anyone was wondering where I get it from.
I discovered I have a label for one of the things that excite me. I like to date archetypes. Even if you are not one, I am going to create one for you. Not to say I want one-dimensional people, but I am going to tailor my dominance to your particular personality and run with it. Por ejemplo:

This new guy is older, silver haired, super tall and incredibly well mannered and quiet. He doesn’t play sports, he rides his bike to work, actively tries to lower his carbon footprint, liberal. He is definitely masculine since he’s so tall and therefore screams man, but he is a mild mannered Clark Kent. A modern heterosexual white liberal librarian San Francisco like Clark. He has this bouncy walk that makes him look like he is bobbing in time to the reggae band only he can hear. It’s very endearing and very calming. He also has this lovely lilt to the ends of his sentences, something slightly sarcastic but too darn nice and polite to fully get gruff. Like his momma raised him right.
I want to watch his mouth say super dirty words because I know it doesn’t do that often. I want him to kneel for me because I want to dwarf his large 6’6” size. He moans a lot, and super loud too which I definitely enjoy. I like a responsive lover that way you know what works and what doesn’t. But I want to turn those moans into verbalizations. I want to see his mouth say the word cunt. I am not that interested in hitting him (yet), I just want to see him move, crawl, struggle, etc. I am obsessed with his size and his mild mannered voice.

So I realized another layer of what turns me on. What I want to see in each person is totally different. One fetish is not going to translate to another person. I wanted The Boy in a soft leather brown suede collar with his name burned into the flesh, I want his little boy eyes and soft lips to look up at me and I wanted to hold his head and pet when I hurt him. I know he likes pain and I wanted him to give that to me unwavering. I want(ed?) to see how far he would really let me go, how far can I play.
My excitement comes from play I like to see men quiver; I want to control the rules. I will use you as a template, but ultimately I want to see how far I can go and that changes with each person and their distinct qualities that turn me on.

Dating disasters by M. Leah.

Date 1: I met him on the Internet at one of those dating sites. I hate the fact that I have to turn to those. But in this busy world where I would still like to get laid and maybe find a partner, you have to suck it up.
This guy’s profile seemed great. I have a rule for on-line dating. You have to be strict, no pleasantries I might be suckered into at a bar. I will only look at profiles of college-educated people who are over 5’8” at least. I will look, but if I don’t think I could kiss you, let alone fuck you, why bother with the fake pleasantries of a person-to-person meet and greet.
So back to Date 1: He seemed nice enough, taller than 6 feet, well educated. He had a degree in writing and took a job with The Man to pay the bills. I had visions of us drinking red wine and talking about public intellectuals and literary theory, of course wearing black possibly in berets. Then we met. First impression not so bad, he was tall and not that bad looking. He had nervous small hands, but I can overlook that if he was a good conversationalist. Rule 1 of the first date: always have good posture; it’s the first thing people notice subconsciously. His was all wrong. He then orders something off the menu and complains about how he can’t handle too many flavors, spices upset his stomach. Ok, not good either. I will eat anything, at least once. And the spicier the better. I keep a bottle of Franks Hot Sauce on hand all the time; like those fat ladies who keep Ranch dressing in their bags. After telling me about his intestinal problems, he spends the entire conversation talking about his job, how he hates it, why he hates it, his boss and how he might get fired. I am your first date, not your mother; do not complain to me. Date ended, he e-mailed me an article he wrote, the one thing he has gotten published (I really shouldn’t judge, I have no publications, not even the internet, if you don’t count my self aggrandizing blog). But the writing was flat and overly metaphoric. Since I do not see myself ever getting naked with this guy, I move on.

Date 2: I will title him, the Iron Man. I met him out at a bar when we were both traveling, turned out we both live in the same town. He was very cute. Blonde, blue eyed well built. A little on the short side, but I could see myself making out with him so I said why not. We went on two dates, and then it ended. He was very nice, but that was it. No other side, just nice. He works out…for fun! Who are these people?!! Nice guy, but he might have been a Republican, and the older I get, the more set I am in my liberal commie Arugula eating elitist academic ways. I need someone with an edge. Like comic books, great! Had a drug problem that you got over, even better! (Example, The Boy once started a conversation with…”so I’ve been getting really into fascism lately..”) I need someone who can bring something more than a stable job and a nice personality to the table. I can also not get behind your workout ethic. I am inherently lazy and need someone who can appreciate that. I set him up with my friend Sally. I thought it would work. They both like the gym, they both enjoy being social and going out, but neither one of them has a super edge. Which is fine, not all people have to, or do, or want to.

Date 3: Another Internet doozy. If you are going on a first date, remember to look your best. That means, groom yourself. Do not go on a first date when you obviously need a haircut. This boy was very nice, yet again, kiss of death: nice. He had an abnormally large head, and his shaggy fluffy hair that needed cutting wasn’t diverting attention away from his large melon. He also said he didn’t want to go anywhere that had “weird” foods like Indian, because its “weird” and he doesn’t like it. Strike one. I love “weird” food. I love new tastes, and I especially love Indian food. It is not weird, it just uses spices that are not salt or McCormick blends. Nice enough, no spark. He was looking for stable and nice, I am looking for life long learners and adventurers. If you can’t be adventurous in your culinary choices, I do not expect you to be able to get out of your comfort zone in other areas. I want you to be ok when I make you crawl to me so I can hit you. If you cant be food adventurous, you will never be sex adventurous (well, maybe it’s a leap; but it’s one I made and one I realize I demand. Food, Sex and Life explorers)

Date 4: We will call him GI Joe. I don’t even know where to begin with this one. He seemed ok. Another Internet date, blech. Looks aside, I can’t even call this one nice. This one is pure asshole. We went to dinner, nice place; he doesn’t eat. He has been watching football and drinking and eating so he’s not hungry. Now I go to school for a living, I am a student for a job. You cannot regale me with stories about how you never went to class in undergrad or law school. I never went to class that often either in undergrad, but I am choosing school as a job, I don’t find it attractive and am kind of embarrassed by my lackluster college performance. I am a nerd for hire. I don’t hear anything from him for around 2 weeks, and then get this serious of text messages one Sunday night:

Text 1: Just had a thought about you
Me: I hope it was a good thought J
Text 2: very nice thoughts, I want you to come over for starters…
Text 3: I wanna dim the lights, lay you down and take all ur clothes off


Um, we do not have that sort of relationship. I didn’t even kiss you with tongue after our date, why would you think this is acceptable?


This just represents the trials and travails of a late 20s single woman trying to find sex and possibly love. It’s a hard world out there for the jaded 20-something who just wants to get fucked right and maybe some intimacy.

I did meet someone I did like, but he gets his own post, maybe even a starring role. ;)

Professional setback

So I had a professional setback this week. I feel I was Palin-ed (if anyone hasn't coined that term yet, I'm going to). I didn't get this article I wanted to. 

I have this "mentor" and I use the term loosely. 

He is a little (ok a lot) overbearing in a way that is inappropriate. Now, I don't know how others handle unwanted sexual attention, but I have no backbone for the smack down, I was not taught to stand up for my intelligence and nip unwanted sexual advances in the bud. I just get uncomfortable. My method: I pretend I don't notice and act slightly dumb about the advance. I am fully aware that sometimes I get better treatment because I play nice with these creeps and pretend I don't feel as uncomfortable as I really am. I just don't know how else to handle it. This particular situation, I thought i was getting expert advice and instead got thrown to the wolves. In my opinion, I was seen as just a pretty face, and not a person of substance. 

This mentor told me that he would look over my work, provide feedback ten submit it to a publication he edits. He told me the board always takes his suggestions and don;t worry. He then sent it straight to them without the feedback ad revision stage and it was definitely a crude and rough draft. 

If I have to sit through an uncomfortable dinner of long eye contacts and being told that "the most dangerous thing in any profession is a woman with intelligence and looks" I want to get what I am promised. 

Now, I don't want to sound ungrateful or whiny, but I don't think any person wants to be treated in a way that undermines their main sense of worth and validation, and for me that's my smarts. 

Now I feel used, naive and most importantly I feel that I am not taken seriously by the people on this editorial board who saw this work that was obviously not up to their standards and frankly, not up to mine. If there was a way I could fix it, make it more coherent, i would have, but i was hoping for expert advice. Now I feel dejected, unintelligent and above all embarrassed that this board thinks this is the best that I can do. I feel that I appear unqualified and that I got that far because of some other reason than my work. 

I love money (well no, but sometimes yes)

I love pretty things. I do. Freaking gorgeous. I want gifts, and I want them to look like this. Giving me boots like this is a sure sign I will fuck you and do it right. I don't love money, or what it does to people, but sometimes I love things. I want someone who wants to see me in these boots and a pair of black boy shorts and nothing else. 

Now these boots have been sold out for awhile, but before they were, they cost $2,500. That's more than my rent for 3 months. Instead of housing, I could have boots. Boots last forever, I could rough it for a few months, right? (no)

So obscene, but they are pretty!

I just looked at dating sites in my area; did a search for all the eligible 26-34 yr olds in a 2 hr radius...back to looking at expensive luxury merchandise; better internet eye candy. 

Lauren Bacall & Humphrey Boghart

A little Lauren Bacall to start the week off right. I don't find the clip to be the best, but I think it does a good job of compiling all my favorites.

update: no sex

I always seem to be apologizing here for not keeping everyone up to date.
So here is what’s going on. The music guy has been totally cut from my life. He’s not a stable person while there are many things I like about him, I feel like I open up to him, I like how driven he is, we have the same taste in music; but he also enjoys hurting me by using my insecurities and using them against me. And there is something stronger than my interest in him, and that’s my interest in my personhood. So he has been cut out of my life totally. I probably will see him around, and I don’t plan on being rude or loud, I just do not want anything to do with someone who cannot think of my feelings. Whatevs, moving on. [easier said than done, but I am stubborn]

So I did the most patriotic American thing I think I have ever done; and it felt great. I walked in a local gay pride parade with Obama supporters. I think America has lost sight as to what we are about as a country. We are a fearful and close-minded society that has forgotten innovation and new ideas can only come from new ways of thinking and being. As I marched by a group screaming anti-gay activists, demanding we repent or go to hell, I was filled with a greater sense of urgency. I do not deny you your opinion or your place in this march, don’t deny me my right to express my interests and beliefs too. I felt swept up in something bigger than me. I feel like if this election doesn’t go the way I have been working towards, its going to be a really big blow. But for now, I am truly enjoying feeling inspired and active in the things I believe in, and for that I am truly grateful.

Women beat their men

So I’ve been making out with someone new. I wasn’t sure how to write about it, so I kept it to myself for a week. But now that it has happened twice, I feel confident in where it’s going; nowhere serious, but someplace fun and definitely an avenue for exploration. I don’t know if this is what I want right now, but it might be something I need.
He’s all wrong for me. He believes in reverse racism, drives a hummer, doesn’t know yet if he’s voting for Obama and get this; graduated college in 2007. Does that even make him over 18? He’s a baby, and behaves as such, which in itself is frustrating; and a turn on.
He is so abash and open with his slanted upper middle class white young boy worldview. I am now making it my personal mission to school him in more ways than one. And he’s eager, let me tell you. He thinks its hot, enjoys being hit, even when it hurts. I don’t think he’s experienced a person like me in his lifetime. (please only with someone like this can I truly get into that persona too). He wants a lesson, and I’m ready to deliver. It’s a really intriguing dynamic. I wanted to do this with one of my tried and true boys, you know, give them my dominant virginity, but I think this way is better. This little one doesn’t know what he wants except that he wants to fuck. He doesn’t know/hasn’t explored it further.
He’s just a little energizer bunny right now (I made him come 3 times last night within a 2 hr period). I get to run this show and figure out what turns me on. He tries, which is another one of my turn ons. He’s big enough that he can throw me around, but he has this baby face and arrogant personality, but I can make him say please so easily. I don’t like passivity. I want you to try to get the upper hand, and believe me he tries. And fails miserably. I realized with this one, that one of my strengths is knowing how to cut you down in bed. I made fun of his eagerness, his inability to really know what to do, the fact that he shaves his chest and bics his balls. I mean, come on, what a frat boy move. Not that I don’t enjoy or like it, but I’m just going to call out your vain man nature for my own benefit.
I like hearing men beg, I like them big manly drooling balls of putty. “Can I just stick it in, please, 5 seconds, please?” oh come on! How great is that, just thinking about it again makes me wet. I pretended I couldn’t hear him and make him repeat it a few more times. Just 5 seconds, please? I let him push around in the general vicinity for awhile, getting all into it, watching him try to slide his dick inside me without any help by me. When he started getting close enough to make a difference, I slowly caressed his face, moaned arched my back, then slapped him across the face and told him no. (evil laugh).
Any doubt that I have ever had that I do not enjoy getting rough and giving pain jumped right out the window last night. My newest go to move: while caressing his cock, pulling his balls then slapping them hard enough that every muscle in his body tenses. That face! Why didn’t anyone ever tell me this sooner? A man wincing in pain is freaking beautiful. The sharp inhale of breath, the tensing of the muscles when its not expected. The sharp jerk back, Jesus Christ its gorgeous. That young face of his with his shaved hard body, fucking amazing. Combine that with that pure determination of his hard headedness. I am going to have fun breaking this one in. All girlfriends after me will thank me. He’s the frat boy type of my dreams but I’m not a scared timid little girl anymore. I own what turns me on, and I’m using him as my fuck toy and a way to explore what I want (and the occasional date, he already has all these plans for us; we’ll see). I now know what makes me come, and what does not, and I am not playing those games of me doing things I don’t like anymore. Example: Yes, you can come on my chest. But I’m going to watch and scrutinize while you do it, I get to do the looking, and especially the hitting.
I am pretty excited about the possibility here. However, I am also concerned because he knows how much I want to play with him. He knows how much I want him and holds it over my head. I’m going to get him to know how to touch every inch of my body before he’s allowed to fuck me. I'm also going to have to find more ways to make him wince. While I truly and thoroughly love watching his response when I slap his balls, it’s going to get predictable and the whole fun is not knowing whether it’s going to be pain or pleasure. Right when he came I smacked him hard on the balls, I have never heard nor seen anything like that, it’s like a drug.
In an hour and a half, I came 4 times and he came 3 times.

too busy jerking off to write

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Driving back caravan style with the music boy:

Text from him:
Come lead so it feels like a nice doggy style
You imagining a strap on in me right now?

Now that took me for a loop. And by that I mean I turned bright red, thankfully no one was in my car to notice. Um, excuse me? When I spend time with him its nice. It’s exciting and engaging and l feel lifted. I like his size I like the way he moves his body. He’s like a Great Dane puppy, but I HATE the way he gets under my skin and can figure out what I want out of our relationship. It’s awful.
So it got me thinking, did I want a strap on in him? Just thinking about it gets me excited. I want to hear him beg for it, I want him to ask for it. I want it to come fashioned with one of those little vibrators so I can get some jollies at the same time. I can think of nothing better to tame that wild beast than to have him begging for my dick in his ass.
Now, this is all theory. Sexually, this sounds fantastic. Realistically….I don’t like my ass let alone a guy’s ass. They are fuzzy and stuff. I still haven’t really worked out the difference between fantasy and reality.
But I still have this great fantasy now of the two of us. He helps me put it on. I don’t need the help, but I want him involved in the process. And while he does, of course he touches; he gets me excited he keeps us both in the game. I get wet giving head; I can see this being pretty similar. Hearing his sighs, the groans, and the grunts. Now the lubing, see this is where I lose it, it becomes comical and gross. But in theory, in my fantasy I fuck him; I do imagine myself in his ass. My little body on top of his; in his. He says he wants my cock, and I fuck him slowly, then get more of a rhythm going, why do guys have all the fun calorically with sex? This seems like a great way to get my workout in too. He’s hard the entire time, whenever I push in I rub my hand up his cock focusing on his head and when I pull out, I squeeze and pull on his balls. He’s talking dirty, I tell him to push further back, it goes in deeper., he winces but relaxes a little bit after the initial pain. After a little while, I want to come, I tell him so. He swiftly moves out from under me and before I know it I’m on the bottom and he’s removing my accoutrement. With one pull and a swift thrust, he’s inside me. I want him to come with me. I want us both to come together. He’s working me from the inside and I pull on his balls, hard. I grab on to his thighs and hold on, just letting him fuck us both until we come.

So yes, I am imagining him with a strap on.















Um, how did he know?!?!

Saturday night out, and some phone sex.

So this past sat I had a pretty late night out. It was my first night back in town, and I kind of was on the prowl for some new meat. I needed a distraction. It came in the form of two sub par suitors. A sweet little Italian kid from NY, adorable and nice, but I'm not that girl. I don’t do little Guido, I’ve been there already, and it was called 19. Also met this DJ guy who was pretty cute but how can you take someone seriously when their opening line is; “I just want you to know I was addicted to Meth for 3 years, it’s been 5 weeks clean and sober”. Don’t brag about that to strangers until it’s been a year, you just sound silly, no one’s going to give you kudos, and you’re still an addict. You cant brag until its an accomplishment that will last.

So with no prospects and the night over I turned to the tried and true; The Boy.

I call him at like 4 AM; he’s getting home too. We chat for a little while, how was your night how was mine, what’s been going on, silly stories about friends, etc. Its mildly flirtatious but I don’t want mildly right now. I want him to tell me naughty things and get me off; I want to come. Which I tell him; “do you want to have phone sex, I’m kind of in the mood for an orgasm”. He asks me if I'm touching myself; “for about the last 30 min of our conversation” he moans a little into the phone (actually I don’t remember if that was true, it was either a moan, or a sound like, Jesus Christ she’s insatiable). I ask him if he was touching himself, he says yes. (I am not convinced though that he was either or if he said yes, I was hoping he was and since this is my side of the story, I am going to move it along in that direction).
So, during and afterwards I was a little weirded out. Things got pretty bizarre and kinky in directions we haven’t discussed and fetishes that I am not totally sold on. I don’t know, it got me off, oh believe me it did (4 times), but it was a little much for me. I find it hard to be dominant when I don’t feel totally secure or able to go down these paths.
I mean you can’t expect someone to get your kink unless you explicitly tell them, right? And some of it he got right on the head, the begging was great, the telling me he’ll do whatever I want, that I own him, control him, rule him, possess him (that was my favorite, especially with that voice of his).

That’s when I think he started getting into it, and it went someplace I was not ready for. He also describes things and uses adjectives and imagery that I just do not know where they come from, like using words like cavernous, I am not doing it justice, but it slightly reminded me of 40 yr old virgin when he calls boobs sandbags, something like that. But it’s so cute in other instances that I let it go. I wish I remembered more specifics. But he did say he'd like to play power games over his orgasm. He kept on going back to pretty standard BDSM genres. The clothespin stuff and the ass fucking, ok I am there. When he called it my big black cock, I put the breaks on. We’re bringing race into this? I did like when he said mine was bigger than his, not because of the subversion of the racial power dynamic. I was uncomfortable with the meaning of that, to dominate this white boy with my large black cock. I did like the compliment that mine was bigger and stronger and better than his. If I were to have a cock, it would be fantastic. I would get to pick it out and it would become an extension of myself. I do not possess the carriage or experience of being a black man and I cannot use that to humiliate you. What I can do is get the best cock money can buy and humiliate you with that!
It’s like my wig collection; I don’t have long thick hair, so I bought some. I don’t know if it looks real all the time but either way I get the desired response. I get attention, either as someone who has fantastic California beach hair, or a cute girl with cancer. It’s the same thing if I was to have a strap on, it’s not real, but either way I’m going to get a rise. It’s not the real thing, but an imitation, but hell, that imitation provokes one hell of a response anyway; I live the hyperreal.
And then, it got truly weird. He wanted me to dress him up like a girl, call him by a feminized version of his name and call him a sick dirty dyke, my sick dirty lesbian. Now ok, as I write this, I think I can get behind his fantasy if I just work through it.
He (and this is all speculation) is a standard heterosexual man with a penchant for all that shitty faux lesbian porn that’s created just for men. Enjoying licking pussy = a behavior that men do out of obligation and lesbians do out of desire. Since he has desire, therefore he’s a dyke. I can find this twisted cultural norm endearing. I can call him all those dirty words because they evoke lesbian porn for him and call him out for enjoying going down on girls (side note: all men should enjoy it, its fun!). You want me to call you my dirty little dyke, it’s not my way but I can get behind that and still be turned on.
Ok, maybe I cant, I am going back and forth on this one, and I am not 100% sure. I can see why, but I don’t think I can really ever use the associated props. I don’t want you to look pretty. I want you to look like a dude. I like seeing you in men’s underwear, it really turns me on. I don’t want to put lipstick on you unless I am using it to write on your body. I want your lips to look like the soft full, yet masculine lips they are.
I can find other ways of humiliating you that do not revolve around dominating you racially or through gender. I will use some of those cues, but having me fuck you with a big black cock? No, I’m fucking you with my cock and that should be enough. I am not emasculating your whiteness with my subversive blackness. I am not humiliating you with gender because the lowest thing on the totem pole is a lesbian who loves doing lesbian things. I will humiliate you with your desires, with our acts, with your NEED to be called a lesbian, or dominated by a black penis, but you are not a woman nor am I a black man. Do you get the subtle difference (I don’t even know if I do)?
I’ll call you out on being you, I’ll call you out on being the submissive piece of shit that you are, letting me do this, liking this (that I like too, that’s why we’re both here). But I do not feel comfortable fulfilling stereotypical power imbalances that I have lived.
But of course now I worry. I worry that he feels exposed, I worry that he feels embarrassed by his desire. There is nothing I want less than to make him feel wrong. Yet again another contradiction. I want to and he wants to be humiliated, but I also don’t want it to spill over after the fact. The second I hung up the phone I thought to myself, that’s it, yes, I’m weired out by the direction it went, but I’m willing to talk about it. He’s not. I won’t hear from him for months now. And I don’t know if he came, was it all for me? This is too complicated.
I don’t think I am ready for sex on this level, its too problematic. Its like I just have my learners permit and I’m expected to drive an 18-wheeler.

A year older; wiser?

Sorry it’s been awhile, I’ve been traveling internationally and I put “write post” on my to do list before I left, but I never got around to feeling comfortable enough in my parent’s house to blog. I don’t know how a place that birthed my sexual experimentation inspires frigidity. Forgive me; it’s been a few weeks since I’ve masturbated. But now that I am back in this country, and my apartment, the blog will continue.
I have been thinking a lot too about the topic; I always find that with a new interest (or an old interest that rejoins the pack) my mind starts wandering to new ideas and sexual possibilities. My fantasy sex life is always more exciting and vibrant than the real deal.
I really think, that my kink involves something verbal. The porn that gets me off these days are the ones where there’s a lot of back and forth. I’ve also been getting really excited by the idea of forced orgasms. I think this is the most productive aspect of BDSM that I have seen (besides all the role play and the ability to be bossy). I think this is super sexy and I think pretty easy to accomplish with a guy; I mean they’re always hard! There’s something particularly humiliating and fantastic about a forced male orgasm, especially when that’s your intention, yet you are trying to make them hold back. The level of disappointment can be wonderful to work with. If anyone has any experience I would love to know what you think, what you’ve done, and how you’ve done it. Just thinking about this gets me all jittery. There is so much room for humiliation play just in the guys inability to control his erection. Absolutely wonderful, and since I love, love playing with cocks to begin with, I see some future in this.
I’m also back on the idea of a strap on. Truthfully, I was never 100% into it. I’m not a butt person, but I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m coming around. But I wonder if I would just feel silly, I mean, I get wet giving head, and they make those belts that have a vibrator in them for the wearer, so that could be a positive. I am still not closer to shelling out the $$ yet though, so actual use is far away. But I have an idea and I might share it as fiction to see what everyone thinks.
Back to my childhood, it really baffles me. I just could never get in the right mind frame to think sexy, and with no material (since I have no regular mens) it was like there was a sexual desire firewall. This is the same home that I let my high school boyfriend sneak into after I had to be home for curfew and my parents went to bed. This is the same house that I used to throw parties in and host just as an excuse to get the boy I fancied at that moment into my house and into my clutches. This house witnessed many firsts, of mine as well as m friends! With all this rich history of deviant adolescent sexual promiscuity, you would think I could at least settle in enough to masturbate, nope.
I think it had to do with a particular date; I just celebrated my 27th birthday. I am a year older, maybe a little wiser. But still single and therefore still defective in some of my family’s eyes. It’s not that they don’t love me, it’s that they worry.
I had a conversation with my mother where she basically asked me if I am choosing this life of intense yet unfulfilling useless relationships and do I ever plan on settling down. And now at 27 I got to thinking, does settling down mean I have to settle? Because if that’s the case, I accept my cougar badge now and I’m going to start getting to work on my Rolodex.

My new crush

Check out this link for a very good review of the work of Jason Segel, my new crush. I discovered him on the TV show how I met your mother; good show, not great. Freaks and Geeks: great show! Forgetting Sarah Marshall, fantastic!!

In the game of life; M. Leah wins

Stack my little plastic car full of babies and spin the wheel because I’m having a pretty good day today. I don’t know if its because I’m teaching a class on gender right now or (gasp!) I’m becoming an adult, but after going to my college reunion I thought it would be a good time to reflect on the life that is mine.
College was an interesting time for me. I made the best friends in the world. We’ve had some rocky points as friends, but I totally trust them to never judge any of the decisions I make in life (unless they are totally stupid and ridiculous, and then they will just let me have it). Mind you, not all of the people I socialized with were winners. I had a few test drives before I found my friends, my major, and my life path. Now throw in some sexual assault, misogyny, a culture that breeds an unequal power dynamic, and some freezing New England weather; and that’s just a recipe for disaster. I know everyone flails in college, but I feel I especially had a rough time finding myself. I look back with a little regret. I wish I did more and got drunk less. I wish I tried more new things instead of worrying if I looked cool.
I had a really good weekend. I spent time with people who I enjoy and it was a wonderful time. In college I was too busy getting drunk and having unsatisfying make outs with unsatisfying men. But at reunion, I did it my way.
Not like I don’t fall back into that every now and again. Please, I think life is a daily struggle between yourself and your demons. Mine happen to be insecurity and men. However, now I am totally fine being the quirky kinky mixed-ethnic goofball hottie that I am today, back then…not so much.
I know I talk a lot about my mother, but I feel some of her insecurities seeped into me. I know she tried, and I thank her and commend her for what she has done, but I also think about how I will be when I have daughters.
On my way to my reunion she tells me not to drink (yeah that’s not going to happen) and not to have sex with anyone so it won’t wind up on You Tube (I think she recently discovered it, there must have been a Dateline special or it was on The View). She just never gets it, she should have said, have a very good time, say hello to your friends and enjoy being able to reconnect to people you met during the most weird and tumultuous time of your life. But instead I get, why do you want to go there, what do these people mean to you, would they even notice if you weren’t there and don’t be a drunk slut.
I was a little unsure in college and not very self aware, it took me awhile to grow into my skin and I found college to be a little overwhelming and intimidating. This was the first time I experienced such extreme elitism and money and it was so foreign to me. Some people looked so at ease in college, either in the classroom (which I wasn’t) or socially (which I tried) but I just always felt I was one step behind, so to make up for that I probably did a few things or a few people that I regret.
And so I was telling her that it went well, that I was happy with where I was in life and that I looked good! So maybe it was me instead of them. Maybe I was the one who was so insecure that it showed and people didn’t know how to relate to me. That is a possibility, maybe I just judged too quickly that someone so different just couldn’t understand and therefore I made the decision to not try before they could have the opportunity to reject me. And what is my mother’s response
“Well maybe you were just acting like a loud Puerto Rican”
Now how is someone supposed to be proud of their heritage when their mother and link to their Latin culture despises it so?
I was never a loud Puerto Rican. I was an insecure sad awkward girl who wasn’t proud or comfortable of any of her ethnicities and therefore could never take pride in my Puerto Rican-ness since it was never something I understood. I was never a loud Puerto Rican, I was a girl who obviously looked different but never was taught to love that difference.
Now, I am trying to work through it all. Figure out what it means to be me. Going to college brought back some hard memories. Stepping up to [redacted] fraternity, my chest began to constrict. I was too drunk to think straight, and all those years of building myself up, I came crumbling down. I was that insecure freshman again.
I was a freshman, he was a sophomore, he told people he took my virginity, I countered with a personal e-mail telling him he had a small penis.
Now how was I supposed to know that would mean social suicide?
As a stood there hugging my cardigan to my body listening to some guy I had never met tell me I was a slut and a perverted kinky bitch who licks cum off guys chests (See the older M. Leah would have said “hell yeah I did, what you jealous?” But 19 yr old M. Leah was mortified), I broke a little on the inside. My façade came crumbling down. You go to college to reinvent yourself, my performance was just called out and it was still the first month. Almost nine years later it all came back to me as I walked up those steps for probably the hundredth time since, but this time with a little reflexivity and a whole lot more self awareness and confidence, I just didn’t want to do it. Standing around awkwardly in a male dominated space just had no appeal to me, so I did what I never would have done back then; I left.
I think college sucked in a lot of ways, but I wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for that, and honestly I can’t complain too much. I had a good time for most of it, but I’m glad it’s in the past. I live in a different world now, one that doesn’t revolve around trust funds and summer homes in the cape or out on the island. I didn’t go to college to be exposed to a larger social network of eligible wasp husbands. I went to find myself. I think I did.
(More on the career path of my peers later)

Why I need a boyfriend part 1:

For some reason I’m all about the serials these days. I was going to call this reason no. 1 why I need a boyfriend, but then I realized that this is not the best way to start out my reasons. These are not weighted, so number one has no more significance than number 45 (and oh yes, there will be many, reasons why I need one and what sort of characteristics he must have to keep my interest).

I want to have a g-spot orgasm. I’m in awe. I’ve read Marcelle; she has them all the time! And according to my Internet research (and you know you should always believe everything you read on the internet). All women are capable of squirting. I want to do it! Apparently the porn I have been getting off to lately is called “squirt bukkake”. It’s a whole different genre than bukkake porn. I like the name-calling, I like the mess, and I like the humiliation. I want to be the one asking “you like that, don’t you, you want me to come all over your face. Make you wet and dirty”.
I want to combine that with acts of actual penetration (which since this porn is geared for men, they just show women squirting, its like the new money shot; complete with faux authenticity). I want someone who is willing to go slow and practice and work, wait work (emphasis please) to get me there. According to the shit I’ve been reading its like training for a marathon. You need to work on your kegels and work up to squirting. With the assistance of a nice man, a g-spot stimulating dildo, plastic covering and some time I have supreme faith. I can get there.

can we also call it something else? I am not a fan of the word squirt. It's too atonal and harsh.

Part II

Yeah, sorry guys, I don’t see myself writing what went down between me and the boy. It’s emotional, personal and now too much time has passed for me to just write it and not add commentary. I haven’t really spoken to the boy since and I think it’s best if I just move on. It was necessary though, I feel ok about what happened. At one point I had him blindfolded on his stomach. It was pretty gorgeous, I like to be the one gazing, why does it always have to be the male gaze? He looked vulnerable and pretty, but it wasn’t fully there yet. He is the perfect type for my sort of ideal dominance. He’s long and lean and has beautiful features. Being able to focus on them singularly was very enjoyable. He has a gorgeous but small-ish cock that I can handle for many rounds and I cant stop touching him. I think we were trying too hard, and while it worked…since we will never discuss what we liked and what we didn’t; there is no room to grow. I wanted to hit his face (I’m a fan of the face slapping I realize) and he wanted me to spank him. If there was more communication beforehand, we could have worked something out. Not that I didn’t like the spanking, I just didn’t think the power came from me. He took control from the bottom, meh.

Seeing THE boy, first installment

We met on a street corner. He was coming from a full day of work. I was coming from half a bottle of wine with dinner for courage and an energy drink to combat the time difference
The entire week I was preparing for this, I hadn’t seen him in over a year. I didn’t know how things would go. Would he still be interested, would I?
I told all my friends not to worry, this is just drinks, that’s it. We’re two old friends catching up after 5 years of a tumultuous relationship consisting of fantasy and disappointment. This was just a drink, catch up and then walk away so I can go live my life; closure.
The second I saw him all that shit went out of the window. I knew exactly what I was doing that evening, I was fucking him. We walked to a bar downtown; he’s holding a briefcase. I make some snotty comment about him having a real job and needing a briefcase; he counters my snotty remark by showing me the contents of his briefcase. Half a Subway sandwich. His attaché is a lunchbox.
He takes me to one of those fancy nightclubs that most cities have. According to my friend, it’s the swankiest place downtown. To me, it just seems like all the other generic nightclubs I have been to. Dark maroon walls, gothic/modern binary, $10 drinks, too loud music, bottle service. It’s a Thursday and the place is quiet when we get there. After our first drink the after work crowd has landed and the music is thumping and the bottle service is pushing in on our little corner. He’s trying to impress me; this is what he thinks I’m into. I do, a little, and I’m flattered he was trying to pick a meeting spot that he thought I would enjoy, although I would have preferred a little hole in the wall where we could talk, snuggle and perhaps get a little inappropriate.
We’re sitting too close, like people who want to get inside each other. I’m probably smiling too much. We make small talk, school, his job, funny stories. I laugh too much and he moves in closer, putting his hand around my shoulders. I look up into those green eyes and smile. I want to do this, I can’t do this; I’m going to do this.
I want to stay like this forever, the tension, the ease. We’re old friends and shy (yet freaky) lovers. I want to hold his face; I want to gently touch every part of his body and then hit him so hard so he can finally feel what it’s like to love him. I want to do all of this right here in this yuppie bar.
I want a quiet booth where we can flirt and catch up. I ask him if he knows anywhere near here where we can get a beer that doesn’t cost $7, I feel like a PBR.
“Well there is a bar by my apartment”
Now I know his apartment isn’t close, this is not a hop skip and a jump. This is a $25 cab ride or a 30 min train ride. I make a face at him that basically translates to “oh really?” He gets a little flustered; maybe worried that he misread my signals. Now, I wish I can say no to him, have some backbone, prove to him that he’s not always on my mind. But at that moment all I want to do is see him naked, see what underwear he has under his baggy business casual.
“I’ll drive you back in the morning…”
He says please and of course I relent. We leave the bar holding hands, I lean into him for support; he gives it. I want this forever, walking confidently next to him, at his side. His hands are large and his fingers wrap around mine protectively, tender yet strong.
I love his hands, I hate mine. Mine are spindly and look like old lady hands. They’re small and jointy. Hs hands are long, surprisingly gentle and soft for all the sports he plays. His hands represent him entirely. They’re long and delicate; yet look like they would be at home doing manual labor.
We’re walking through the city hand in hand, talking about everything…nothing. I just remember that I was touching him. I get so emotional around him because its so fleeting and I have such intense feelings.
We go back to the apartment he shares with 3 other people. I’m loud, I’m always loud, and I can’t help it. Especially when I’m slightly nervous, I turn loud and flirty. I get like national anthem at a baseball game loud. He keeps shh-ing me, I tickle him and nuzzle my head into his chest; it’s where I reach. He wraps his hands around me and we stand in his small kitchen, my head on his chest. I think we both needed some tenderness, closeness: intimacy. I always wonder how a boy like this likes me. I’m not ugly, but girls fawn over him. It feels comfortable, but there is always that insecurity whispering in my ear.
We grab an large bottle of cheap white wine and two glasses and head to his room. He puts music on, lights some candles and we sit in the glow, shadows jumping off our faces
The rest is hard to write. I of course ruin the mood and get serious. I love this kid, I love being with him and sometimes I can’t keep my trap shut and just enjoy the moment. He says all the right things, but at this point who knows if it’s the wine, the late hour, or his hard on talking.
To be continued…

My friends are beginning to get married

I’m a wee bit lonely. Not that I don’t have activities I can do to fill my days. I truly do enjoy spending time alone. Hanging out can be a lot of work sometimes and it makes me tired and weary. I love people, I love socializing, but there are times when you want to be able to sit in your pajamas. There are only a few people I feel comfortable with getting comfortable (does that make sense?). I am ready to find that person whom I’m attracted to but can also be included in alone time. I am looking for someone to share downtime with. I want to be able to laugh so hard, I know I look funny. I want to be able to try some new sexual position or even just work out to an exercise video with them in the room and not be nervous that I 1- look stupid 2- might fart.
I think that’s love; being around someone who enjoys life so much, the big events and the small, that you don’t mind occasionally looking funny in front of. You find their funny faces endearing and they find yours cute. I think they call this intimacy.
I’ve had this with some friends over the years, that level of closeness. I let my guard down, don’t worry about being around them makeup-less and laugh until I almost pee. I want this with someone who I can also fuck. I want the added bonus of regular sex that most definitely includes funny faces and weird noises. I want my needs to be your wants, and your wants to be my needs. I want us both to be able to hold that warm squishy center that is vulnerability and finally break down all my walls.
My friends are beginning to get married, and I am worried I am either going to be alone forever or will have to start settling.

Weekend Getaway

I saw the boy this weekend. THE boy, original boy. That kid rocks my socks off. It's so easy to fall back into him. Will give details once I can think about it .

Are you my orgasm?

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,

Sexified Disney

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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.

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:

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

A little history lesson

I came across this juicy tidbit on Wikipedia (not the best source, but a great place to get some quick info)
“In his essay Coldness and Cruelty, (originally Présentation de Sacher-Masoch, 1967) Gilles Deleuze rejects the term 'sadomasochism' as artificial, especially in the context of the prototypical masochistic work, Sacher-Masoch's Venus In Furs. Deleuze instead argues that the tendency toward masochism is based on desire brought on from the delay of gratification. Taken to its extreme, an infinite delay, this is manifested as perpetual coldness. The masochist derives pleasure from, as Deleuze puts it, The Contract: the process by which he can control another individual and turn the individual into someone cold and callous. The Sadist, in contrast, derives pleasure from The Law: the unavoidable power that places one person below another. The sadist attempts to destroy the ego in an effort to unify the id and super-ego, in effect gratifying the most base desires the sadist can express while ignoring or completely suppressing the will of the ego, or of the conscience. Thus, Deleuze attempts to argue that Masochism and Sadism arise from such different impulses that the combination of the two terms is meaningless and misleading.”
Let me summarize according to Deleuze the masochist’s desire comes from delayed gratification and the contract, basically he is topping from below, turning the sadist into a big ole meanie. The sadist gets pleasure from the law, (how this is different from the contract…I do not know). There are boundaries and rules and the sadist enjoys engaging in behavior that silences their conscience and they get to act like a big meanie.
This is just plain silly in my opinion. Deleuze does not believe that the masochist and the sadist need each other since they rely on different impulses. I say I really don’t think so. The sadist enjoys walking that fine line of naughty behavior and enjoying your taking of that behavior. (Well I do) the masochist AND the sadist both like the delay in gratification. (The fucking…duh…it’s like tantric sex, just without all the weird sounding breathing and relationship to yoga). I really think this misses the boat. The sadist AND the masochist enjoy engaging in behavior that society sees as taboo. BOTH use societal cues and props to enact sexual play that engages in given power dynamics for mutual delayed gratification, titillation and a better orgasm.
While I do think he hits on a few points, rules and structure and contracts are appealing. I do love some planning; I am pretty anal. There is something to be said about a well thought out scene complete with props and steps and stages. It seems orderly yet is all dirty sexual messy, a nice dichotomy.
I think there are multiple reasons why individuals engage in sadist or masochistic sexual practices. Just read all the sex blogs out there and you can see this. There are multiple reasons and thoughts going through both participants heads. And one of them is the confusing idea that this fucked up shit might actually turn you on. And that in itself is an existential arm wrestle that gets me off.

Apologies

I've been swamped with work. About to be ABD (for all those of you in the grad student know)
send me positive vibes on Monday!!
posts resuming starting today!

xoxo

Peeny Accessories

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My relationship w. men, does he exist?

So, I’m back. While the new boy is still in my life I guess, I am not stressing anymore. I know I am pretty fantastic (most of the time), I have come to terms with most of my flaws, and am not going to let someone use those against me. He’s not fucking raspberry Snapple either so he can suck it. It also helps that he still thinks about me, I need to remember that, it’s one of my charms. For some reason I have a lasting power and a long shelf life, this is why I have a stable. Sadly I’m not interested in a stable anymore…I want something stable (come on, that was funny!)
I started trying to deconstruct myself and my interactions with men:
Sex and relationships ARE mental for me. The new boy touched on one of my major insecurities, which is I’m Insecure!!(no shit!) Isn’t everyone? There is a part of femdom I like because it’s validating, but I like that in life too. I like to be validated for the things I do, what is wrong with that or wanting that in your partner? I have a tendency to be needy. I am incredibly giving to the point of sacrifice but it comes with wide eyes and a desire to be wanted. And if you reciprocate it’s a turn on! I want to be told I’m pretty and that excites me. But nothing too saccharine, honest comments and understanding of my being are like butter. I never saw myself as a pretty child and while I received peer validation for school, looks were always something I was insecure about. Like most high achieving women I have painful insecurities about some aspect of life where I don’t feel I have full control of outcomes.
The way I deal with that; I enact my ability to control in sexual play, but with this I also enjoy some deference. It’s a typical female insecurity that manifests itself in a desire to hit men and be an object of slight adoration
Because of this insecurity I demand a level of engagement that I guess can be called submission. And the new boy is right; because of this I am also not 100% comfortable with letting go. But I haven’t had any success in explaining this standpoint and then getting what I want which makes it harder to share or “come out” the next time around.
So with new boy, I share this, how while I want certain things, I might not have really “let go”, I’m anal and an overachiever, why is this something that comes as a surprise? And what do I get back? What I wanted was a little encouragement, maybe some support and a certain kind of acceptance where I’m folded in and supported. He gave me back sarcasm and an inability and unwillingness to provide that necessary cushion.
For me to be the dominant self I see in my dreams requires a man who is able to hold me after and give me free reign to take that stage. Instead of holding it against me that I can’t do that myself. My shell has worked for a very long time, respect that.
I have a desire to see a man on his knees, I have a desire to tease and hit and bite and caress and hold; but to do that I need the level of attention and admiration that borders on parasitic. Does that make me crazy? I’m emotionally needy, I’m never had a long term relationship and I want one. But its still female dominance, its female power, with your help. I am insecure; I get uncomfortable in the male gaze. While I like it, it also makes me feel exposed. I want someone to manage that exposure to allow me to express my dominance and be supportive. Does this make any sense at all? Does this exist?

Still not ready

since this is kind of how I'm feeling these days, I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it critically yet. I don't like to use this blog as my bitchfest (that's what friends are for!), you don't need to hear my whining. Things aren't even going with the new guy. It's really sad too, I kind of got swept up in him. I feel like I did in middle school and liked a boy, its incredibly unnerving. Until I can think about it without hyperventilating and wanting to key his car, ham his house and cry all at the same time I don't want to touch this subject. My sex drive is nil since I can only think about him, and I don't even feel comfortable letting him touch me in my fantasies. Sorry for the sex blog without any sex bloggin'
I'll be back soon, I hate being this lame, which makes it worse, I get into this spiral of self hatred BUT I will pull out of it, there is only so much self loathing I can take.

Days go by and still I think of you:

I’m having a hard time posting (if you haven’t noticed). I don’t know how this new relationship is going, but either way I feel like I am loosing my footing and feel dislodged. What I do not know if is this is love, or if this is toxic.
And I don’t want to cut and run, because I don’t want to reify the situation and prove his feelings about me. I am just so freaking confused. When I have the ability to explain better, I will try.

Oprah is ruining my relationship with my mother.

My mother gets most of her understanding of the world from “The View” and “Oprah”. Which means my mother’s mothering technique of her adult aged daughter involves discussing pertinent topics raised by self-help books and catch phrases by Dr. Phil et al. While I try to listen to her, there are some times when I just snap. There are just so many times I can hear “you teach people how to treat you”, and “he’s just not that into you”. Maybe I should just learn not to share with my mother. But habits die hard even when they always lead to fights, her hanging up the phone on me, and me feeling like I slighted her and feel responsible and guilty.
I do not care if he’s just not that into me most of the time. Honestly I probably care even less. He’s a warm body until something better comes along; now try explaining that to your mother. Already older than she was when she had me, explaining the delay of marriage and family to my mother is like trying to explain quantum mechanics to my dog. She wants a successful daughter, but for her, she thinks you can have it all, but still in a particularly domestic fashion. This means I should become an attorney and in her universe attorneys are allowed to not work for 6 years until their children are old enough to enter the school system.
Her most recent lecture involves giving me the gift of fear. Why thank you, but I will have to respectfully decline such a lovely and thoughtful present.
What she is referring to is this new book by Gavin De Becker where he basically states that women are weak and should listen to their inner voice when in situations. While I am not averse to listening to one’s “gut”, I am incredibly dubious of self-help books and their power over people like my mother. By creating a culture of female victims preemptively, what is this saying for female empowerment? What sort of moral panic are we constructing as our starting out point that women need to live in this heightened sense of self-awareness that around every corner lurks a rapist and a murderer. I am not living in victim land population women, nor do I like the position-ality it creates to begin with. I staunchly reject that just being a woman places me in a position of natural victim and obvious prey. While I agree, we need to be aware of the signs around us and the warnings that we are sometimes oblivious to, I do not think anyone needs a “gift of fear”.
A gift of fear, what does that even mean? To be gifted fear, fear of what? Of whom and why? (There are obvious racial and class based problems with this assumption) And what sort of gift is this? Can I exchange it for a gift of self-confidence, or perhaps equality, or maybe even reliable and credible statistics and citations for said book? Fear is an emotion that is culturally constructed. This is just the next moral panic that preys upon women who are already fearful and a society unable to rationalize violence and structural reasoning behind them. We blame individuals not the structures that created them. I am not going to live my life in fear of those who do not have the privileges that I have. I am not going to fear those who are darker skinned or lower class just because society has conditioned me to see that as suspect. This book provides the reader with a worldview that everything in life is meant to be feared, and that by being hyper vigilant you can avoid rape, murder, school shootings, etc. I would prefer the gift of common sense and social awareness.