Oct 292014
 

Going downFor Harold

(On the occasion of his 66th birthday)

My dear,
My tweed demon, just one six short of dangerous,
My God, horned and horny in the woods,
The best friend I’ve ever had,
My co-conspirator, my muse,
My love…

So in loveHappy birthday.
I know you didn’t want a present,
I need to tell you what a gift you’ve been to me.

I am surprised to see that you are becoming an old man
(because I always see the you
you are inside)
I like the changes I see.
I would like you most any way.

I trust you.

You turn me on like crazy.
When you walk into a room,
Or give me that smile that’s just for me,
my cunt spasms.
PartnersI have to catch my breath.
Our eyes meet and I know you feel it too.
It’s the little things like that.

You give yourself to me over and over,
Deeper every time.
Like letting me use my knife to cut
your father’s shirt from your back
as we stood under the full moon.
Like handing me a mallet and spreading your legs.
Like letting the camera
document our love.
Like trusting me enough to ask for what you want
and trusting me enough to let me take charge.
Like being the girl to my boy.

Naked in natureI hope I am as generous in spirit as you.
You love me as I am,
honor every path I’ve taken,
and hold me to my own high standards.
It is a rare gift to hold both weakness and strength
in love.
In your eyes my hurts make me whole,
not broken.
You are a revelation.
I am reborn in your arms.

I do not have a gift to celebrate your entrance to this life.
Only words,
and a love that encompasses the universe.
You are my heart,
My dance partner, my dreamer, my daddy,
Male BeautyMy boy in the tall grass,
My first and last thought…

Happy birthday, Harold.
Have the best year of your life!
You seem to be picking up speed
and there are only 1097 days until the most epic oral sex party ever…

Oct 262014
 

Boots and cuffsThere are some really great things about being polyamorous. One of them was coming home around one in the morning (wearing only knee high boots and bondage cuffs) and having my partner, Joel, only cock an eyebrow and ask if I had a good time.

I had a fabulous time with DW! When I showed up at his door the kissing was passionate and intense. It lead to me, on my knees, appreciating the finer points of button-fly Levis. And then to DW buckling handcrafted black leather cuffs around my wrists. It made me very happy.

Cuffs and bootsWe went to a party full of poly folk. I realized how odd and awesome it is to not know who people are in relationships with. It’s different than most social situations where everyone is seen as part of a package. In fact, it felt strange for me to be at a party without one of my primary partners.

That didn’t stop me from ditching my clothes as soon as possible. I joined a cuddle pile. DW tied me up in beautiful ways and did things that made me come. I got the spanking I asked for, with people passing by the room. Have I mentioned that I like to kiss this man? When it was time to go, DW shook his head when I picked up my clothes, handing me his leather jacket instead. It felt deliciously deviant to go home that way!

So yes, Joel, I had a good time.
Sinful Sunday

Oct 222014
 

HugsSunday I posted a photo series called Room Service that my friend Kyle and I put together. We kind of went with a fantasy idea I had about hotel sex, gender, and some power dynamics. I am pleased with the results. It’s fun to play with fantasies and Kyle is awesome. We’ve been friends for a few years and helped each other through some rough spots. We like each other and trust each other and it shows in our fantasy pics.

The amusing thing about posting about a fantasy is that Kyle and I have been talking about how sexy authenticity is. It’s really fucking hot to be your whole self with your partner. So often, in the past, I have found myself only bringing forward the parts of myself I think my partner wants. I felt like polyamory was the only way to get all my needs met, because I would never be able to find one person who could meet me everywhere.

My cockIt turns out that I was wrong. It’s terrifying to be my whole self, all of the time, but after trying it out on Harold and realizing that the world didn’t end, it’s gotten easier. Now that I can be authentically me with one person, I’m trying it out with everyone. When I connect with someone, it is solid and fulfilling. It is seriously fucking hot. Authenticity is sexy. It just is. I like it in myself, and I like it in my partners. Authenticity lets me connect with people in ways I could never dream up!

What does authenticity look like? Not holding back when you have something to say. Being brave enough to be honest about your desires. Letting all of your voices speak. Challenging your fears, connecting to the people who move you. Don’t let people give you less than everything they have.

So let me tell you what it was really like when Kyle and I spent a morning together in a hotel room. Harold took pictures, they didn’t spontaneously happen. I was excited and a little nervous. The artist part of myself was gauging details and angles – creating a scene. I wanted our shoot to say something about gender, but also play with some standard stereotypes. I was packing in my pantyhose and that felt strange and pretty powerful.

Cock and ball tortureIn between takes and all through the morning, we talked openly and honestly about all kinds of things: polyamory, families, gender, transitioning, sex, friendship. We were hilariously silly. We jumped on the bed, had a jerk-off competition with our strap-ons, attempted CBT on a dildo, snuggled, and giggled. We were authentic with each other. Even when shooting the fantasy pics, we were authentic, which is why it looks sweet and intimate rather than like anonymous D/s.

I guess what I’m saying is this: bring your whole self. Don’t ever assume that what you are seeing is the whole story. Find real connections, inside and out. And have fun!

(Click on images above to enlarge.)

Oct 192014
 

Kyle,

In my fantasy you show up at my hotel room, sweeping me off my feet with your suave and dapper style, but it’s Daddy’s hand on my backside that makes me melt. I can’t stop kissing you. I want you in my mouth. Oh Kyle, we only have a few hours. Whatever will we do?

At the hotel door

First kiss

Taste you
Under your boot
Spank me Daddy
Tongues and teeth
Nipples
Grind like this
Take me now
On my knees for you
In your mouth
Your chest

Sweet in your arms

 

(Special thanks to Kyle from Butchtastic for helping me to shoot this fantasy sequence! Stay tuned to see what happens when a couple of gender queered sex-positive bloggers get wild. There’s lots of kissing, talking, giggling, and strap-on wars…)

Sinful Sunday

Oct 012014
 

High stressLast week was super stressful for me. I started college, I lost my dog, my child had surgery, and I did it all while dealing with my normal stressful things, a broken toe that’s still healing, and being sick with a cold that turned into a sinus infection and bronchitis. Needless to say, I did not go on any dates last week. I did manage a few brief erotic encounters and intimacy of the snuggly kind. That totally counts.

But by the start of this week I was feeling totally depleted. Joel held the fort at home and Harold took me down to the cabin. For five hours he held me while I grieved and ranted and searched my soul. It gave me time to release all of the tension that had been building and threatened to explode. Usually, we would spend at least half of the time making love, but this emotional sharing seemed more important. It’s not that we didn’t make out. We are always sexual together on some level, but he just held the space for me process. That’s more intimate than anything else I know.

We went to run errands. More difficult emotions came up. We were in Costco when my anger finally hit surface. We probably made a spectacle, me raging, then us passionately kissing, then more arm waving. It felt good to express anger and still feel loved and supported.

By the time we got off the freeway on our way home, I had broken down into heaving sobs – the deep cathartic kind of crying, releasing more grief than the tears that sometimes escape and run silently down my cheeks. That moment suddenly made everything real. Harold kissed me and I felt him all the way down to my toes.

It funny that we can spend the day together, naked, sharing our thoughts and still not be in sync sexually. But that one moment in the car, when I found my emotional center, we suddenly melted into each other and all we knew was pure desire. My need to fuck him was intense. Harold starting driving again. We weren’t far from home, but when you need someone like that…

I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. I gripped his erection through his jeans, my hands restlessly moving from cock to back of the head to nipples. He captured my hand and kissed the back, sucked at my fingers. Our pull to each other was threatening Harold’s ability to drive. We had to pull over.

Even before the car came to a full stop in the small dark deserted public parking lot, we were passionately making out. His hand was down my shirt, trying to liberate my breasts, or at least my nipples. We scrambled to find a way to make sex work in the car.

We’ve done this a few times before, but always in larger vehicles, not a sedan. And I’d always been wearing a skirt without panties, with shoes that slip off, so it was easy to straddle him. This night I was wearing tights and an orthopedic walking boot. Not exactly streamlined. No matter, we’ve always been resourceful. I quickly calculated positions. The backseat was out because it was loaded with our Costco purchases. There was no room on the driver’s side. I ask Harold if he could moved over to my side.

You have to understand that this was urgent. We were desperate. When I managed to pull down my skirt and tights and not get my boot hung up in Harold’s feet, it was a minor miracle. When I sat down and guided his cock into my cunt, it was a palpable relief. The car creaked and groaned as we rocked back and forth, but after a minute, we both knew it wasn’t quite right. We needed a different angle and our options were limited.

Looking around, I devised a brilliant plan. I crawled over to the driver’s side, clothing and boots still hampering me. That didn’t give me enough room, so I opened up the door. Harold pushed to his knees, trying to get into position behind me. There I was, with my ass in the air and my head out the open door, Harold crouched over and behind me trying to find an angle where he could insert his cock, when I noticed that the car was moving.

It was fairly dark and it was raining. The car moved so slowly at first that I wasn’t sure if I was moving or the car – just that slight disorientation of movement. When I realized that we were indeed moving, we had a mad scramble, a tangle of limbs and clothing and car. Harold found the parking brake and pulled it on. We must have released it in our rush to fuck. Or perhaps never set it in the first place. We only rolled about a foot, and the curb would have caught us, but the absurdity of the situation was immense. We laughed and kissed, the urgency of our ardor broken.

Releasing tensionWe sighed and straighten our clothes, drove back home to the people waiting for us. I thought to myself that there seems to be more than one way to release tension. Maybe an occasional bout of free fall isn’t so bad. I have a lover who will stand by me through my worst stuff. We have so much fun together. Most of all, Harold and I, after seven years together, still have moments where we want each other so bad, SO BAD, that we can’t drive two more miles to be home and fuck. Really, what else do I need?