Apr 302014

Dear Lover,

Evoe in cuffsThis morning when I got into the shower, I noticed that one of your chest hairs was wrapped around the barbell in my left nipple. It reminded me of the ineffable sweetness of the time we spent together yesterday. As I sadly prepared to wash our combined sweat from my body, this single hair twined round my nipple seemed like a metaphor, or sympathetic magic, summoning up our love to surround me. You are always close to my heart.

I slowly ran the soap over my skin, reclaiming the territory you so thoroughly took yesterday, my dear. I could feel the delicious tickle of your fingers down my back in the stinging spray of the showerhead. I examined the bruises on my wrists where you strung me up, recalling how I gave myself to you entirely. You were relentless in your affections, until I came so violently that I jerked away from your fingers. I have marks from the spanking you gave me.

Easing back into my body, I started to notice all of the aching muscles. It’s a good feeling. I’ve been pushed past my limits! There is a tender spot on my shoulder. I don’t remember clearly, but I think you bit my shoulder in one of our more animal moments. My mons is a bit sore as well, doubtless from excessive vibrator use. Strangely, my clit and cunt feel fine, even though I’m pretty sure you performed at least an hour of oral sex, maybe even two! I like to think of you at work, musing over why your tongue feels worn out.

When I ran my soapy fingers down the crack of my ass, I did note that my asshole still feels your ministrations.  I was so shocked that you took me that way! It was such a shameful delight for you to slide your finger in my backdoor. How incredible it felt to orgasm around your fingers in both holes. Toys feel alien in my bum because we just haven’t done much anal play. Thank you for taking a chance Darling! It’s so satisfying that I could return the favor, slowly fucking you with my strap-on.

Oh my Love, even my abdomen aches, perhaps because of all the time we spent fucking, joyfully switching from position to position. I feel like I have had quite the serious fucking. But that wasn’t even the best part. Daydreaming in the shower, I call up a memory near and dear to my heart – when I held your whole being in my hands and evoked your jism into my mouth. May we always pray this way.

AnerosNow I’m sitting out in the sunlight, wishing you were here, with sweat glistening on naked flesh. (It was outstanding to make love yesterday with the sun and the breeze.) I’m listening to the Rolling Stones, which will always make me think of you now. I know you don’t care much for the song, but you’ve definitely got me under your thumb Baby.

Yesterday was really amazing. Yes, we are lucky to have awesome sex most of the time, but yesterday… I think what is really special for me, is that it was the first time I feel like you truly Topped me. I’ve been asking for a while, waiting, not terribly patiently, for you to find your feet. Well you did Sweet One, you totally took me. And you did it with grace and style. Thank you for hearing my need and responding.

I want you to understand what you’ve done for me. Today I feel free instead of stuck in my head. I am making love to the world. Looking into your eyes yesterday, it seemed as though I was sliding deep inside you. You were deep inside me too, I can still feel you permeating my being. I feel healed and whole, heard and seen, grounded and inspired. I’m so happy. I love you so much. You are a gift. I know what you had to overcome to give me what I want. I’m proud of you and proud to be your partner.  Your love fills me up so that I spill love on everyone around me. Thank you for everything you do for me. I notice. You are the best!

Forever yours,

P.S. I’ve never loved the dark as much as I do right now. I can’t wait for bedtime, to be in your arms tonight. I feel the promise of your kiss hot on my lips…

Apr 272014

Blissful agonyI think about suicide pretty much every day. I am not currently suicidal. I think about death even when I’m happy. It’s become a kind of coping mechanism. If I read about famous people who (presumably) accidentally killed themselves getting off on auto-erotic asphyxiation – I know I want to go another way.  If I ponder how to get people to talk about mental health issues and sexuality – I feel empowered to keep having the conversations. If I rage about the injustice of trans* teens killing themselves – I am inspired to live another day. I will not become a suicide statistic. I will keep fighting.

I used to feel that my suicide was inevitable – that I was locked in a constant battle for survival. As a gothy teen, I wrote tons of bad poems about sex and death, imagining that dying would be the best orgasm ever. I had good reasons to be suicidal as a young adult. I was different from everyone else. I spent most of my time hiding oceans of pain and anger. I felt powerless and trapped. At times I believed that nothing would ever get better. I desperately needed a way to escape and suicide seemed like a blissful solution to a daily agony. I imagined that I would slowly slip off in my sleep, death coming to me like a lover.

Death and sex just go together. La petite mort, n’est ce pas? Aren’t we all seeking that little death, that erotic spasm where we momentarily lose control? How far are you willing to go? I do understand why some people are willing to take their pleasure right to the edge of death, but I don’t believe suicide would be worth the thrill. I’m pretty kinky and I like to push myself, but permanent damage is a hard limit. Breath play and auto-erotic asphyxiation can be terribly fatal. Why go for one big bang when you can have awesome sex over and over?

Blissful agonyI like to think that those final moments would be intensely sexy, but having witnessed death a few times, I kind of doubt it. I feel a sexual charge around blood and a certain romance around the death/sex matrix, but actually dying is not turn-on. I’m certainly still hoping to pass in the middle of intense sex, but maybe fifty years from now, assuming my mental health challenges don’t get in my way.

I rarely see sex and mental health issues discussed, beyond the fact that many psychiatric drugs interfere with desire. (Yes, it’s a train wreck that the medications prescribed for suicidal ideation tend to cut people off from pleasure and intimacy.) Yet, I believe that mental health challenges and sexuality are strongly linked. Both tend to bring out aspects of our lives that we would otherwise keep hidden. Both have the potential to be creative or destructive. If either goes out of control, the other tends to follow. How can we treat the mental health imbalances that could end in suicide without looking at sexuality? What about people who are depressed, anxious, or suicidal because they are constantly harassed by people who believe their sexuality is abnormal?

A survey conducted by the National Center for Transgender Equality found that 41% of trans* people in the United States have attempted suicide, more than 25 times the national average. Of trans* teens who suffered physical or sexual violence at school, 78% of survey respondents reported suicide attempts. Seventy-eight percent. Trans* people don’t kill themselves because they are gender non-conforming. They are desperate for escape because they live in a world where people hate them for being different. What are we doing? Why aren’t we making it safer to be trans*?

I still regret that I didn’t do more to befriend our neighbor who died right in front of our porch 3 months after we moved into our home. I don’t know if the overdose was intentional or not, but I am so sad. I got some of his cross-Blissful agonydressing catalogs in my mail by accident, so I kinda knew that was his inclination, but I never talked to him. He lived alone. After his death, it seemed obvious that his family was uncomfortable with the large amount of high heels, breast forms, dresses, wigs, and make-up in his home. I never got to see him dressed as a woman, but I would have loved it. We might have been friends. Maybe it’s not enough to let people have their secrets. Maybe I should have let him know that I was fine with him. Or her. I’m sorry Jess.

Apr 262014

This morning I decided to shave my body hair in honor of Spring. This is significant because I haven’t shaved anything in at least 6 months. My pubic hair is extremely sparse for me. I’m not sure I like it, but I’ve enjoyed Harold’s response. He took great delight in examining my grooming efforts. With his tongue.

Lick here

What is everyone else doing?

Sinful Sunday

Apr 202014

I find myself seeking a sensation that will put me over the top – something that feels a little dirty, yet incredibly sensuous. I am masturbating and I long to drive myself crazy with extra stimulation that won’t make me come immediately. I reach round back. With my fingers wet from sliding in and out of my cunt, I slide along the crease of my ass. Though the sphincter tightens in response to my teasing, a single finger presses inside, then works in and out. It feels good.

I find a way to work it all: g-spot, clitoris, nipples, and asshole. This is intense. Amazing. Too much to hold out. I orgasm like crazy. All of the muscles spasm around my fingers. I come hard. 


See what other people are doing for Sinful Sunday!

Sinful Sunday

Apr 172014

Right after spankingOkay, so I’ve been doing some complaining lately about how Harold isn’t doing the things I’d like him to sexually – namely, Topping me. Harold, I’m sorry for being such an instant gratification grrrl and not letting you come into power dynamics on your own. I think you are getting it now. Totally getting it. Especially the spanking.

I never knew spanking could be so much fun! Once years ago, Joel tried to spank me and I jumped up, ran away, and locked myself in the bathroom for 5 minutes. After that, I just sort of figured it wasn’t my thing. But Harold and I have slowly worked up to the full spanking he gave me the other day. And he Topped me! He held me over his knees with a vibrator on my clit and whacked me over and over until I was squirming and screaming. He left marks on my ass. I thought I was going to die from pleasure.

And the fun continues… My bottom is very sore. Every time I sit down I am reminded of being bent over Harold’s knees. The pain is a sweet reminder of our love. Every time I hug him, he kneads the sensitive flesh of my ass, just to remind me that I belong to him. He grins when I suck in my breath.

He seems freer with my body right now, sitting with his arm around my shoulder, hand cupping my breast. I love it. I finally feel like he is taking what I am giving to him. He is meeting me in this place where I am unsure, but full of lust. Darling, my heart (and my ass) are yours!

Apr 092014

Bound and tiedA friend once told me that you can’t teach someone to be your Top. It would be like instructing a comedian on a stand-up routine – you would always know the punchlines before they were uttered. I do understand this point of view, but I also believe that you should ask for what you want in a relationship. Everyone needs time and opportunity to develop sexual skills.

For a long time I’ve wanted Harold to take on the role of a Top, Master, or Daddy with me. Just occasionally, just when we are in that mood. We’ve been building our sexual relationship for years – building trust, releasing our fears, aligning our energies. We have awesome hot sex. I’ve enjoyed pushing Harold past his perceived limits in ways that turned us both on like crazy. Now I want him to do the same for me. I’m pushing him to find his inner Top so we can find new limits.

It’s working. Lately he’s been confident enough in us both to mix elements of power play into our lovemaking. It even comes out in the casual flirting/foreplay we engage in all the time. He will grip my face in both hands and kiss me hard, pull my hair, put his hand on my throat – all things that get me going. We do more spanking. He instructs me to do something and, “make Daddy proud.” We explore power differentials through casual role-play. So far we aren’t doing full sessions, but it lets us both get comfortable with uncomfortable roles.

Why would I want to have sex that made me uncomfortable? Because it’s super hot. Because I have deep dark fantasies. I’ve spent a lot of time looking at what arouses me, and power play is right up at the top of the list. I don’t like to feel pain (mostly) and I don’t want to be humiliated (usually), but I want a partner who can take charge of me. With my consent, of course. I don’t want to submit in a way that breaks my spirit, but to serve in a way that allows me to excel. I long for approval. I want to be seduced, swept off my feet. I want a partner who will hold me so I can let go. I need the energy to be just right.

Sound hard? Oh hell yeah. Especially since I get in my own way of getting Topped. Sometimes I feel crushed that I can’t seem to get what I want. I desire very specific sensations or emotions, but I am entirely vague on how they might be achieved. I’m so ready to feel let down that I am hardly able let Harold take me in his own way. I am guilty of Topping from the bottom, when I really want Harold to take the reins.

ankle bondageYesterday was a breakthrough of sorts, but extremely painful for us both. We started to make love, cautiously feeling our way through a power dynamic that Harold led. (This is huge. I think it’s the first time Harold has taken charge of a sexual encounter between us.) I was feeling the energy the way that I want it, opening up under his touch, and feeling owned in a loving way. The excitement was turning me on and obviously affecting Harold as well, if the massive hard-on leaking pre-cum was any indication.

Then something in the energy changed. Later Harold said that he sensed I was in a lot of emotional pain and it halted the sexual energy for him. What I remember is Harold getting intense and dead serious. He looked in my eyes and demanded that I give myself to him. Then he was silent and staring. For a long time. In sub space I had no idea what to do. I was already giving myself to him. I gave everything, even my pain. Why wasn’t he taking it?

We both ended up pretty freaked out, but we handled it really well. Harold brought me back into a loving and neutral position where he gently patted me on the back. We were able talk through everything in a reasonable, if somewhat passionate way. I managed to get across the idea that when he Topped me I needed clear instructions and a chance to succeed. I might not always be able to complete tasks, but I have to be able feel successful sometimes.

Bondage reflectionsThe whole difficult experience brought into stark reality for us the fact that we need to work through this somehow if we want to continue being as close as we are. I would be deeply resentful if there was a part of me that Harold rejected. Part of me wondered why I was messing up the good thing that we share by demanding that we explore a part of my sexuality that is (probably) very small. But wanting to submit is a part of me, in a place where I feel ashamed. I don’t want to carry that shame into my relationship. We both see the dilemma and we want to share everything.

So, despite it being painful for both of us, despite feeling slightly ludicrous, we are committed to learning how to connect in a D/s dynamic. It goes  a little against how I normally approach sex – following the energy to it’s natural conclusion. I’m not used to having to work so hard to fulfill a fantasy, but I’ve met too many people who did not feel they could talk to their partners about what they wanted in bed. I have to believe that the payoff here is going to be huge, or at least that it is worth unraveling this stuck energy.

Apr 072014

On the beachI suspect that, at some point, everyone has to look at how sex defines their life. How do I identify as a sexual (or non-sexual) person? Where does sex stand in my hierarchy of values? What is sex anyway?

Harold and I went away for the weekend and we discussed many of these concepts because I’ve been struggling with thyroid problems again. My sexuality as I have known it is on hiatus. I wrote a post about thyroid function and sexuality a while ago. When I reread that list of possible symptoms for hypothyroidism, I realize that I have been experiencing every single one. If I look back I can recognize a very gradual decline of my thyroid function over the past 3-6 months, with the last month being extremely difficult.

We needed some time away by ourselves. My extreme fatigue and lack of desire make it hard for us to just flow together sexually the way that we are used to doing. I’m missing that sensation of immediate lust that feels like sap rising in tree or riding a carnival ride – a thrill of warmth that starts in my cunt and moves up to my heart. Intellectually, I am still very interested in making love, I just don’t feel it. It takes more time for me to get my mind, body, and emotions aligned so sex flows. 

When sex stops being easy for me, I am forced to examine all of my assumptions about who I am as a person and in a relationship. Harold and I spent a lot of time talking, as I tearfully wondered if I would ever really want to have sex again (which is kind of silly because we then went on to have lots of sex, but I needed to examine my fears). We sat on the beach and I poured out my heart, asking him if he would still love me and want me if we never had sex again. How would we connect? And slowly, I remembered all of the ways that we love each other. We make love in many ways that I would not consider “sex” and while I adore our sexual connection, it was a relief to realize that I will not lose him if I cannot recover my lust.

Leave your hat onTo be clear, the only person pressuring me to be sexual is me. I get really frustrated that this isn’t something I can think my way through. I get scared that I might never feel that thrill and transcendence through sex again. Much of this weekend was spent processing a loss I don’t even believe is permanent. But sex is strong like that.

Sometimes just knowing that a “no” is okay, lets me say yes. Knowing that I didn’t have to perform sexually in any particular way freed me to simply be present in the moment. I knew that Harold would meet me no matter what I brought to our lovemaking. This is an amazing gift and it’s what keeps us together.

For any couple that’s having troubles connecting sexually, I have this advice: get naked, get in bed together, and talk. It’s okay to touch and snuggle. Look into each other’s eyes. It works for me every time. Being naked is vulnerable, and skin to skin contact makes me feel closer as oxytocin is released through this basic intimacy. As our bodies, minds, and emotions sync up internally and with each other, we naturally flow into lovemaking.

We made love in a tiny little loft, warming our bodies after sitting on the cold beach. We kissed slowly, then more urgently, opening to each other. Hands explored flesh, squeezing and caressing. I lay on top of him, feeling him harden against me. We took turns going down on each other, then switched to 69 because we had to have everything all at once. I wanted to take him with my strap-on, but we got caught up in the moment. I had to feel him inside me, just for a minute…

Sex still isn’t easy for me right now. I normally orgasm in about a minute and am capable of multiple orgasms, but we have to really work for me to cum right now. It feels great to be riding that edge for so long, but sometimes I just want to get there already! The fact that the batteries were failing on my vibrator didn’t help. I worried that Harold would get bored or tired, but he was perfectly willing to do whatever for as long as I was enjoying it.

Fields of springThe next morning, I took a shower while Harold worked on his laptop. I ended up masturbating, wanting to see how my body responded to my own touch. It took a lot of fantasizing, but I was eventually able to get myself off. Immediately, I started wishing that Harold was there (never mind that we were in a tiny cabin and he could hear everything), and feeling resentful that he didn’t care to be sexual with me (never mind that I had told him to go ahead and work and I hadn’t invited him to shower).  I had to laugh at myself for being so passive-agressive, then went and seduced him into fucking me right there in the kitchen. He didn’t mind at all.

I’m glad that we had time for me to examine the recent changes in my sexuality. We had awesome sex, but I am most grateful to spend time together doing relaxed things – talking, shopping, walking on the beach, drinking lambic out of the bottle like teenagers, looking at flowers, watching a movie, napping, and sharing meals. It’s the first time we’ve gone away and I brought my crocheting rather than, say, a trample table.

I don’t feel kinky. I don’t feel like much of a Top. I don’t feel particularly sexy. In fact, I feel sick a lot of the time. I am not up for wild rodeo sex, but that doesn’t mean that I am not sexual. I still want to kiss, to be close, to share dreams. If I think about it, I still want to orgasm. I want to connect with my partners. Everything is an effort right now, but sex is worth the effort.

Flip offIf I never feel that hot lust again, it will be like losing a limb. For now, I am content redefining my sexuality to make wherever I am the perfect place to be. It’s a relief to know that I don’t have to be crazy kinky to be loved. I happen to like pushing my sexual limits most of the time, but that isn’t the whole of my identity. I can define sex any way I like.