further daze

so dating is progressing which is lovely lovely lovely.

of course it comes with the usual attendant pratfalls, pitfalls and phone calls included in the act of dating before coupling. lack of sleep, clouds of pheremones, general walking around being giddy and filled with public displays of affection and the various and sundry other usual suspects.

did you catch that clouds of pheremones comment?

because yeah, i had to change my pants TWICE yesterday.

yeah.

i’m so horny i could die and yet i somehow don’t really want to masturbate.  i did it on monday (to test a toy) and i’ll do it again today (didn’t like the toy so it gets another chance) but at the same time i don’t particularly feel like it.

i’m filled with lovely electricity that crackles and tingles and hits at the least expected moments.

i’ll be sitting, with a client, working away and suddenly i’m entirely aware of my nethers. there they are just tingling and throbbing and asking nicely for some attention.

attention they’re ALMOST getting.

we’re at that stage you see.

i should mention here that i’m curiously slow to sleep with men who feel like they will mean something serious to me.  i take my time.  they take their time.  the dance is delicious and the inner elbows are electric.

i’ve had one night stands [funnily enough he shared a name with mr. current] and not minded a whit but somehow, somehow when the emotions are involved the dance gets a hell of a lot slower.  there’s walking and talking and eating together.

waking up together and necking for hours on end but somehow there isn’t fucking.

not at first anyway.

it’s too delicious to rush it.  this wonderful exploration of each and every part of your bodies.  touching toes and rubbing noses and sniffing eyelashes and collarbones and shoulder blades.  it’s also incredibly arousing.

your skin grows more comfortable with each other, your minds start to mesh, your bodies learn to sleep beside each other [he doesn't snore, hosannahs!] and the rhythms of your lives slowly intertwine.

but you don’t fuck.

heck we’re still wearing underwear to bed!

we’ve touched each other most everywhere now and teased and titillated and wooed each other’s sexual selves but no, no orgasms for us and somehow i don’t wish to self-inflict them.  i LOVE this time.

these precious moments at first when everything is fascinating and you haven’t grown tired of each other’s peccadillos or smells or funny facial tics and every inch of skin is like rediscovering the wild wild west.

you primp, you pamper, you tweeze and pluck and shave and choose your dress and even your undress clothing with great care and you yearn.

oh blessed universe the yearning.

you yearn to touch and tease and suck and fuck and penetrate and be penetrated and wild and crazy imaginings fill your waking hours and cover your eyelids whenever your eyes close.  but you only tease and stroke and befriend.  you learn instead of taking.

every touch across your fabric covered parts and your uncovered parts and every lick over fabric and along bone sends tingles to those very pieces of you covered in fabrics.  lips remain electric long after you are no longer touching them.

long after the matching lips have left the building.

i swear to god i almost came from necking just last night.  NECKING!  and nibbling and grazing and occasional strokes of my cotton undies against his boxer-briefs as we learned each other’s rhythms and i felt my body just open.

it just opened to this man that it hardly knows and hasn’t fucket yet and i exhaled.

i exhaled… which i never do but there it is.

i’m pulsing right now as i write this.  pulsing and heavy-lidded and perfectly carnal and yet somehow unwilling to relieve the delicious ache and throb i feel against my pants.  second pair today even.

it’s just so much fun letting it build and build and build because i *know* darned well it will be released and i’m not in any rush to do it….

[yes i know i have a toy to retest  :P]

did i fail to mention the best part?  i’m allergic to latex and thus have polyurethane condoms in stock and i gave him one to try… and yeah… it’s too small!  suggestions welcome, i’m just going to do happy dances of anticipation in the corner in the meantime.

:)

whoosh

(that’s a breath noise… think of the whoosh of air that comes out of your mouth when someone superhot walks past… or a lotus drives by)

my last lover and i eventually agreed not to bite each other because well, i have a little bit of a teeth problem. and by teeth problem i mean?

i mean that when i am in the throes of fantastic fucking i tend to sort of not notice exactly what i’m doing and there’s this delicious spot where the neck and shoulder meet that i love to well, chomp the shit out of. and i don’t mean a little tiny bite okay?

i mean bite marks that turn purple and last for days.

the kind of biting that causes me to groan deeply in parts of me that don’t groan very often. in fact the kind of biting that at one point caused me to believe that i might just be deeply masochistic. (which i’m not.)

in short, i love teeth. love them, but effectively gave them up for lent. the only partner that liked them at all felt that it might send the wrong message to the woman he was actually after if he kept showing up with giant bite marks all over his neck and everyone else clearly got a little touchy with deep nibbling.

and then i went on a date with a sweet young thing. (met him through a matchmaking website of all things)

a polite date with hugging and a follow-up phone call to arrange another date.

which we went on. and we talked and we ate and we laughed and we walked and then we ended up on a park bench near my home. so we’re sitting there (both, i suspect but i can only speak for myself) and dying to cuddle or something and i say something which i no longer remember and he says something about that earning me a bite.

so i stick out my arm.

and he bites it and i laugh and tell him the story of the time my best friend decided that ‘bite me’ was a great new expression. so great he said it like a hundred times in one day.

so i did.

i bit him so hard he had a badinfluencegirl shaped set of toothmarks on his shoulder for two weeks! anyway mr. sweet young new man says ’show me’

and i look askance at him and try to figure out if he’s serious which he assures me he is … so i bite him. same place with a little less teeth and a touch more sensual… and he reacts.

he reacts well. so we start to sort of snuggle and play with each other’s skin and nip each other here there and everywhere and then eventually of course it’s some ungodly hour of the morning and i have to go pass out because i have work in the morning.

and, since i’m not that kind of girl, i don’t invite him to sleep over. but i want to.

the next day i get an email informing me that he has bite marks on his shoulder and he’s DELIGHTED about them BUT that he’s a little sad because he doesn’t think that the marks will stick.

and i exhale with a whoosh.

i exhale because i fucking LOVE to bite things! love to sink my teeth into their tender flesh and work away at it with my sharp little teeth until one might think that a vampire had been feasting there and forgot to tidy up after themselves.

i love the deep fucking bite and the little nip and the chomp on unexpected places and worrying at nipples with my molars and pretty much anything you can do with teeth up to and including nipping at toes (if they’re clean.)

and so does he.

i already wanted to take this man who picks up not inconsiderable me like i weigh nothing and drag him into my lair whereupon i would impale myself on any piece of him i could find that seemed fun to sit on until one of us begged for mercy.

i already wanted to take those giant hands and find out if the knuckles are bendy (and if you have to ask me WHY i want to know that…? *laughing*)

i already want to run my fingers through any of the hair on his body and tug gently.

i most definetely want him to hold my hands above my head and fuck me like a steam engine.

and then? he likes teeth?

i’ve been a sloppy, horny, distracted MESS ever since! ever since!

i tend not to fuck men that i haven’t slept with. well unless i’m only after a one night stand.

i tend to want to know a man a little before i get naked with him because (FOR ME!) it makes the sex better.

but i am not sure i’m going to manage to wait with this beautiful man who is rather younger than i am. and i’m not sure that i mind. maybe my ‘tendencies’ don’t matter… and maybe they do, it’s hard to say.

he picks me up like i’m weightless… this has SO MANY possibilities…

*just breathe baby, just breathe because you have all the time in the world*

no porn for you!

i don’t have any porn in my fingers today i’m sorry.

it’s amazing how hard it is to write smut when your body is a little bit broken and you can’t get yourself off.

no, it’s not that i’m not horny, and it’s not because i’m dating mr. new guy. mr. new guy is busy working at the other end of the planet and mr other new guy is too young for me… and yet we’re still going on another date.

yeah i don’t know how i ended up dating two men at once but until i fuck one of them who cares?

but that’s not why there’s no porn in my fingers… nope, nothing so nice as all that. (although how nice is that?!?!)

i dragged my sorry ass to the doctor last week because i decided that three to five bladder infections in a year AND several bouts of yeast or almost yeast was just NOT normal. just not. and i really wasn’t down with all the people telling me ‘oh it’s because you’re over thirty five now, just get used to it.’

just get used to it?????????????????

just get used to it?????????????????????????????

have these people EVER had a bladder or urinary tract infection in their lives? obviously not!

so i went to the doctor and i told her my tale of woe and brought her the records from the walk-in clinic i go to when i just can’t bear to wait three days for an appointment and generally threw myself on the mercy of the medical system.

‘help me doctor!’ said i, ‘i can’t bear this infernal itching any longer!’

and she did.

i know, not what i was expecting either.

and here’s the bit you all need to listen to okay? i don’t have a yeast problem nor do i have a bladder problem.

nope, i have a synthetics problem.

she sticks me in the lovely stirrups (which i hate and SO want to get fucked in… but i digress) and takes a look and says ‘yup sure looks angry and irritated’ and i nod feelingly and then she whips out the speculum (god bless whoever made these out of something warmer than stainless steel!) and takes a look and says ‘hrm, no sign of yeast.’

and i stare at her and yet i know she’s right. i don’t have enough symptoms for a yeast infection, no icky goo coming out of me, no fish smells from bacterial vaginosis, nothing that says yeast except the infernal itching.

so yeah, it turns out that i have contact dermatitis.

what’s that you say? i live in yoga pants. yoga pants are NOT made of cotton. yoga pants are made of luon or spandex or lycra or other equally shitty things and you know what? if you sweat and dry repeatedly in such clothing your poor little nether regions have a heart attack.

they get dried out and itchy and red and irritated and you basically end up with an EXTERNAL yeast infection. and THEN?

oh yeah, there’s an and then.

and then you pee or fuck or masturbate or stick a toy up yourself and you take this screwed up external mess and you shove it up inside your healthy vagina and whammo! bladder or urinary tract or yeast infection!

also known as no partying in your pants.

fortunately the cure is dead easy.

wear cotton, more cotton and then some more cotton. [whodda thunk it?  mother was right!]

change OUT of workout clothing after you sweat in it. don’t sit around in it all day.

wash with ivory or something milder.

apply doctor prescribed anti-itch cream crossed with anti-fungal cream twice a day until the itching stops.

watch thy vagina turn pink and healthy again!

so yeah, couple days more of this and i should be able to fuck myself at which point the porn will flow.

*

this public service announcement brought to you by badinfluencegirl and the yeast gods :)

early daze

i’m having a little trouble writing any kind of porny post right now.  i’m having an equally hard time masturbating so please don’t think this is about the blog.

you see i’m one of those people who has trouble masturbating during early dating.  do i know why?  no.  is it true nonetheless?  uh huh.

i think it has to do with expectation.

if i play with myself i will inevitably think of my new friend and i will somehow colour my expectations of what will happen between us at some future date.  this renders testing the toy sitting in my sex toy drawer particularly difficult.

mmm speaking of my sex toy drawer, it’s overflowing!  it’s overflowing and i’m not sure what to do about it.  i have several toys that i no longer use and plan to dispose of and yet i feel guilty getting rid of a perfectly functioning toy just because i don’t want it.

there’s not one thing wrong with these things except that i’m damm sure i never want to play with them because i don’t really like them and i haven’t liked them since i met them.  i’ve tested them unfortunately which renders them used and possibly contagious.

okay not really contagious because they’ve been cleaned and untouched for at least six months and i’m pretty sure all the herpes is dead now but still…

anyway, it’s a little bit tough to write porn because i don’t want to fantasize about this guy yet.  okay that’s not quite true.

i think about him fairly regularly but i think about what i know and not what i don’t and he and i have not reached the stage of fucking like mad passionate bunnies.

yet.

and i don’t want to colour it with my imagination, i want to let it unfold as it would.

unfortunately you see i also don’t want to think about any of the other men that i’ve been with and it’s HARD to do fantasy penises because this beautiful man is in the forefront of my imagination.  he’s sitting right there being cute and funny and tall and well-built and my little overworked imagination just can’t compete with a real live boy.

but i want to masturbate and i almost feel like i can’t!

not to mention i have this toy to test and my time runs out in a couple of days!

i’m even excited about it since it’s my very first *shhh don’t tell my ass* butt plug!!!

yeah i’m twelve, but i’m excited about this toy and i can’t seem to make myself try it.

so i guess i want two three things from you guys.

one) what the hell do i do with these toys i don’t want?

two) what do i think about so i can masturbate already???

three) what do you do when you’re first dating someone new and you haven’t fucked yet?

happy tuesday!

over here!

i am learning, over time, that i am something of an exhibitionist.  i also appear to have some voyeuristic tendencies but not as much.  probably in similar proportions to my subly/domly bits.

sure i can take over and lead the way but it’s not my preference… not the way i’m wired when it comes to sex.  i like to give but i receive even better.  course giving and receiving at the same time is just awesome.

but getting off in a place that has a decent chance of getting me caught or overheard?   getting off with someone in the other room?  fucking somewhat noisily when people are sleeping on the couch?

getting off in front of a man and taking some obscure pride in just what a sloppy bitch i actually am?

discussing my growing collection of sex toys in public company?  with glee?

all quite unexpected and surprising to me.

i have become somewhat of a sex educator among my circle both private and work and i knew that i had ‘arrived’ in some way when i got my first intimate sexual information inquiry from a dear friend of mine.  how did i become the sex educator among my friends who don’t read my sex blog?

erk i must be opening up!

and so i think about it, about the daily topics of conversation with my friends and clients and aquaintances and how they’ve changed since i started this blog and i start to get just how much i’ve changed.

i’ve changed in ways that don’t, at first, seem to have anything to do with this little blog.  and yet, at the core, they are all part of the same journey toward an active and healthy sexual identity.

i dress more like a woman now rather than like a tomboy or a bit of an androgyn and i walk with the strut of the attractive woman who knows that someone is looking at her.

i feel lust in the glances of random males as i catch them looking down my curves.

i see my curves instead of my fat… most of the time.

i have started asking for what i want with men instead of pining from afar… and i have a date with a hottie on thursday because of it.

i let myself fully open my body in front of my last lover and then gloried in his response to that freedom.  and my own.

i love and appreciate my body so much more that suddenly everyone i know is telling me that i look better than i have in my life.  in my life and i’ve had a twenty three inch waist as an adult [and i'm 5'11" fyi.]  had but now am closer to thirty…

i don’t colour my hair and i wear minimal makeup but i walk around with happiness glowing out of me from all directions and people are looking and watching and enjoying.  and the more they like to look the more i like to tease the universe with masturbation and sex that are perilously close to being caught…

i’ve taken pictures of myself that i haven’t deleted yet.  and i’m doing things in those pictures… and i’m identifiable.  eek!

i wonder, as my confidence grows and my sex drive gets more comfortable living where i can feel it, i wonder what i’ll grow to do…