Aug 152017
 

Kink of the Week’s prompt sparked my interest on names and titles. Actually, that’s like saying I read the prompts and just this one caught my eye – truth is I rarely even know what the prompt is. But I discovered this one, and it’s awesome and thought provoking.

I tackled titles in 30 Days on Kink where I tried to define my kinky self. Then, on the way to a GRUE, Mr. Texas and I were discussing how we define (well, a lot of things), and names and titles are handy for that, though no one model always fits. I stated that I’m going through a kink midlife crisis – I no longer know to define my kinky self, nor necessarily how to define my relationship with others.

In the 30 Day writing prompt: I defined myself as wife – I am no longer, nor do I have any desire to take on that role.

ADD Brat: yeah, I’m really not that either. I don’t brat often with Mr. Texas – it began as more of trying to show that his role of top would be respected and now is just a nature role with us. I also don’t brat with The Wanderer.

Rope bottom: this has led to the most crisis type feeling with my kink identity as that used to be a primary role I would tell people and now it just doesn’t feel true. I’m sure that rope is still my most responsive kink, but I no longer actively look for it nor do I initiate any rope play. Therefore, can I even really claim this role?

Lightweight bottom: still am this, but I’ve learned I can take far more than I thought possible.

Primal: still am this, though it’s rare I’ll engage, and not with the same intensity (mostly because I’m not physically cool enough).

Switch: I’ve taken on this role far more than I would’ve thought possible.

Submissive: I’ve taken this role far less than I used to.

New to me roles:

Top: A role I find myself enjoying more and more.

Mistress: I’ve been called this in the past on a rare occasion, likewise with the present. It makes me feel slightly like a fraud – I simply don’t feel cool enough for this title, nor does it seem to fit anything I am seeking.

Impact bottom: Surprisingly, I like impact far more than I could’ve thought possible, given my wimpy nature.

Girlfriend: I use this term with vanillas.

Speaking of vanillas…

A few weeks ago Mr. Texas asked what I refer to him as. I asked him in what context.He mentioned that I introduced him as my partner at a rope event. I told him to vanillas, he’s my boyfriend (a term I rarely use), my guy (most frequent), my spouse, or my husband (it’s easier, I found). (No, we’re not legally married.) To kinky people, I refer to him most often as my partner. To people really seeking what type of partner, I would use the term primary, though nesting would work. We’re committed, as much as our relationship defines, and living together and raising little folks. I haven’t quite put a title on it, nor do I feel the urge to (though I know it’s peace of mind to give some sort of shape to dynamics).

The Wanderer and I also recently had a discussion on roles and titles. He has a few he uses for me, though to be honest none of them stick in my head where I could even state them now. I wouldn’t even know how to define our relationship – and I expressed the vague sort of titles I would use for him, though admitted that none felt accurate.

I really dislike titles and roles, though again I know people use whatever vocabulary they have at hand to try to describe just how important a person is to them, and what they consider themselves to be. I am not picking my titles, I’m okay with people defining how they will, and I’m trying to give the same respect when asked how I would describe them (though I’m not assigning titles or roles even in my head either).

The problem…

At the GRUE, there were great conversations on defining what the term relationship even meant to an individual, and what sort of poly they were (if they were poly). Defining things, people, ourselves seem to matter, regardless of how much I dislike doing so – it does increase effective communication with others, something I dearly want.

And the hard limits:

I have a serious dislike of the term “girl” in reference to myself, it just takes me out of my head space in unpleasant ways. Likewise, daddy or mommy (or other parental names) wouldn’t work for me either. I am indifferent on names like slut, I’m learning – it simply does nothing for me.

Aug 152017
 

1. Is a weird “sex face/orgasm face” a total deal-breaker?

No, I normally keep my eyes shut, but I don’t think it would be anyhow. I don’t wish to see my own orgasm face – I believe I probably look pretty ridiculous and frankly don’t give a damn to be corrected or aware of what I look like.

2. Do you enjoy having your balls played with (or playing with balls)?

I do enjoy playing with them, it’s a toy I don’t have; however I don’t think I focus too much attention on them.

3. Have you ever hooked-up with somebody based on their proximity to your smartphone location (Tinder, GRINDR, etc)?

Yes, this was how I met Mr Texas; I believe his first message to me was as impressive as “you live close”. Clearly the hook up worked well.

4. You have some free-time in the workday–blow job or intercourse? (BJ can be giving or receiving).

Either; it depends on what would make my hair more of a mess – because in this scenario it sounds like I have to go back to work.

5. How long after having sex with a new partner do you have to wait before falling asleep?

Depends: if sex includes some pain elements or a hell of a lot of orgasms it would be faster than just sex. 

Bonus: What’s the dirtiest or sexiest text message you’ve ever received?

I’m quite sure it was from my ex-husband, and I’m not going to revisit the memory nor the messages I have to check what it would have been.
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How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!
Happy TMI Tuesday!

Jul 262017
 

“It sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence but not empty.” Author Mark Haddon describes this in an excellent book, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. 

That’s what rain is to me on so many levels; it’s sensations without being intrusive. I’ve written that every time it rains I have all the windows open and am most often sitting the doorway to the outside, watching it, listening to it, smelling and connecting as much as I can. Rain is sensed, smelled in the distance, felt in the oppressive weight in the air. It covers all my senses, makes my skin damp. I love how I can feel just a drop or two, and then a downpour can completely cover me. I love a gentle rain that I can play in, or rain that engulfs and takes every inch of my body; in either type or somewhere in the middle you can find me often outside barefoot and appreciating the sensations that rain creates.

I haven’t necessarily rushed home with a lover and slowly peeled off each layer of dripping clothes, licking up the droplets that remain on their skin, but I like that fantasy.

I love how the water can seep between us in ways nothing else can, in between lips, tasting the liquid between sliding tongues.

Rain can shift perspective on everything, blur, clean, refresh the world around me.

Jul 152017
 

My favorite type of fingering is hard/rough, fast, and deep; I love thrusting type motions far more than anything else for orgasms so if one or two fingers are inside of me, filling me, and I can feel the remainder of the fingers and hand slamming against my lips, it’s heavenly. Fingering is something that I didn’t care much for until recent years, when I discovered I liked it exactly that way. I also learned that I can squirt, cover an entire wrist and leave a pool of my desire dripping onto the sheets, if there’s enough pressure applied and fingers curl just the right way inside of me (so far fingering and one time with a vibrator are the only ways that have made me squirt).

Recently I’ve had some amazing experiences with fingers…

…I was teased for a length of time, and then it felt as if his whole fist was inside of me (it wasn’t, I was reassured, just a couple of fingers), painful, and my body wasn’t quite ready and stretched to accommodate but the act of forcing inside of me, the tightness of my body gripped around the intrusion created its own pleasure, and soon I coated his fingers and relaxed more against the pressure. He moved so agonizing slowly, intentionally based on his smile and ignoring of my begging. Finger tips circled the entrance, pressed in, gradually sunk in deeper and deeper where the length filled to almost painful, unhurriedly slid along my walls, out. I squeezed against the length, willed my body to orgasm despite the maddening pace, but he deliberately kept a  measure  I couldn’t. Finally, the pain as his teeth sunk into the sensitive nub of a nipple created such tension that I gratefully climaxed around his fingers.

…A few times I’ve had a new experience of one finger anally inserted and the others crammed into my cunt. It is unbelievable to me  how much I really appreciate the feeling of being filled with fingers, of stimulation in both places so very close together that I don’t often experience. A few times I’ve wondered if I like it so much because it is a rare treat, or if I would like it each and every time I get to experience it; I used to have sex with a finger in my anus more regularly and I liked it every time, so perhaps it is not the novelty of the stimulation.

Fingering seems to be in many of my posts as it’s such an easy way for me to orgasm to…

Half laying on my side and stomach, I woke up when fingers roughly pushed their way into my body, pounded in and out to where the hand and remaining fingers felt like a fist against my lips.

I was already wet, as it seems I always am. I clenched around the fingers and dream and reality splintered with the rough and quick orgasm.”Feeling Forced

Waking up to a fingering is such a fetish I have, but I’ve learned that I appreciate the many different ways of anticipating fingers inside of me as well.

He put a finger in my mouth, and I sucked on it, running my tongue down the side, my lips sliding all the down the length of it, before he pulled it back and moved the finger between my labia, my own kisses allowing his finger to slide inside before it curled deliciously against my g-spot. He moved unhurriedly, rubbing it against my spot, uncurling, slowly easing the teasing digit out, softly circling my entrance, bringing out my cream, dipping back in, back out, spreading my dampness between my lips and up to my clitoris, circling and flicking the nub, again advancing between my folds…oh my…

We had been going all day; my sore body was still so very sensitive as well. “Finger fuck me hard,” I groaned, arching my back, my hips bucking against his slow and torturous finger. He complied, his finger dancing in and down to a rhythm by now he knew I liked. My thighs trembled, tightened, thrusting my hips up to meet his finger, to fuck it even harder….Tightening, tensing, clenching, trying to grip just the one finger, feeling it press, feeling my core absorbing the touch and fanning the sensation outwards, I moaned into my orgasm.” – Finger 

Jul 112017
 

The night prior The Wanderer and I did wax play but it brought up our need to have a knife. I love feeling a cold, sharp knife slide between hardened hot wax and my sensitive skin.

So the next morning, with a free day ahead of us (an unheard thing), we went a store and I selected a knife that I wanted. He was kind enough to buy it for me. Next time, we’re ready;considering my love of knives, it was really quite strange that I do not own any.

We decided to head towards a boardwalk on a nearby beach, where our first order of business was food. Splitting two meals so we could sample a variety of what the menu offered: shrimp and lobster. Sitting in a shady place on the boardwalk, with the ocean breeze drifting, and after he allowed me to caress him for an hour, the day promised peace that I don’t often feel. Conversation flowed as beautifully as the weather around us – I regretted not wearing a dress again and felt warm as the sun shown upon my jeans. Our friendship is easy enough for the silences not to be awkward amid a constant flow of any topic to happen back and forth.

Lunch was delivered and the lobster arrived wholly intact. I could barely even look at it and before I could request that they de-shell it, the waiter left. Fortunately, it seems The Wanderer is handy with cracking seafood and didn’t mind that I would not be helping in the slightest. He also was incredibly generous with gifting me with some of the best pieces. It was endearing, caring, sweet.

After we finished lunch, he asked me to hold his phones for a moment. It was a first and when he put a hand out, I smiled and cradled them closer, turning away and demanding a kiss. I was secretly worried that he would freak out without not immediately being handed the phones back, but he hesitated, reached around to grab them but briefly kissed me as he did so. A token price, but a huge step in the right direction of relaxation and playful interaction for us.

We walked to the end of the boardwalk after lunch where he had to take a phone call. A slight breeze cooled an otherwise far too warm day and I had to the urge to frolic among the much cooler waves. After he was done with his call, we decided to walk along the shoreline. I took off my sandals and rolled up my jeans above my calves; he did similar though was far more dressed so the casual rolled pants and finger hooked around the heels of dress shoes made a startling contrast. It was simply another reminder that I didn’t observe him relaxing much.

As we walked, we had discussions of vacations that were sadly more of dreams far more than plans – as more time goes on I realize this is unlikely to happen as a marriage and children take the spare down days; still, how nice to dream at times. It was truly our first date, and as dates go this one had visions of a future between two hopeful people establishing a connection; I believe one of us even mentioned that it was an actual date rather than our kink sessions mixed in between his business meetings, even the morning had no real BDSM elements (though the night prior was filled with such explorations).

Eventually we reached my vehicle, and after brushing the sand off of our feet and legs, unrolling our pants, and a brief hug and kiss, I’d drive him to the airport and watch the methodical way he grabbed his bag and made his way in the hurried no-nonsense manner I see every businessman do.