A recent text message from a friend had me giggling.
"...I'm going to go get an orgasm now. Chat with you later!"
It made me think of a cookie jar, but instead of cookies, there were orgasms. And you could just go pluck one out whenever you wanted one.
Too bad Target doesn't have something like this...
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Joining the A-Team
A long time ago, back in the days of sex-is-evil-unless-you-do-it-with-your-husband, if you would have told me that at some point, I would willingly allow someone to drill me in the ass...well, I would've called you crazy, psycho, insane. I, like many women, weren't having any of that anal talk. You poop out of there!
Even after I took my sabbatical from church and started playing with boys, the butt was still strictly off limits. I dated a guy for two years and he was obsessed with butt sex (he even made a game out of begging me for it). For two years, my ass was on high alert for possible invaders. You still poop from there!!
One day, quite a few years back, I was getting a massage from a friend of mine (he was an instructor at a massage school). He was ridiculously hot, and waved a huge freak flag. The massage started innocently enough, but somewhere along the way, the innocent massage became not so innocent, and I ended up with his finger in my ass.
Surprisingly, I found it pleasant.
Fast forward to now, and The Boy. I've decided that The Boy has ruined me for other men...but that is beside the point. Anyway, The Boy had mentioned in the past of his desire for anal play, and in my desire to please him, started to seriously look at the subject. I'm sure every woman has a story if a bad anal experience, and it can be traced to lack of preparation and knowledge by both parties. Hell, I'd even had a bad experience in my formative sexual years. The guy "slips" and ends up in the wrong hole. While writhing in agony, he apologizes, and in the same breath, asks if I liked it. Who in the hell would enjoy something like that? From these bad experiences, I can only surmise that is why a lot of women are turned off by all things anal. That, and the fact that you poop from there.
At any rate, The Boy starts off slow...rimming (which feels awesome!), and then a finger (yes, please). Never forceful, always gentle, and reading my reactions enough to know when to continue or when to retreat. There came a moment when we tried for the big enchilada (his penis) in my forbidden garden, and it was a no-go. For one thing, he's not exactly small. Secondly, my body was just not ready for it.
Back to the drawing board I went.
I read everything I could get my hands on concerning anal sex. The best information I came upon was written by Nina Hartley. I knew she was a porn star. I knew she also used to be a nurse. She's also considered an expert of the Big A. Ordinarily, I think learning anything from porn is a bad idea, but what she wrote about made a lot of sense, and offered great advice for a novice such as myself. Probably because she spoke about it like a nurse.
If I could meet just one porn star in my life, she would be it.
Armed with knowledge, I finally felt I was ready. Unfortunately, The Boy was busy with whatever it is he gets busy with, and I was forced to wait to try out my new found education. And wait.
The time finally arrived when he wanted to come over one morning. I had worked the night before, and I actually sat at the desk weighing sleep vs sex. Sex with The Boy is always amazing, but gosh, sleep is good and I had to go back to work the following night.
In the end, Amazing Sex with The Boy won. Thank God.
We started out in the shower and worked our way to my bed where the Amazing Sex ensued. I always love looking into those expressive brown eyes when he's on top. I get mushy just thinking about it...
Butt sex! Oh yeah, I digress...
After round one, a brief intermission, and then onto round two and I'm getting pretty tired. The Boy mentions anal, and it I was game. The rules: we use lube, and he must listen to my cues very carefully. Agreed.
So, he starts with his fingers while I focus on relaxing...which is a lot harder than one might think. Things progress, and we graduate to his very excited cock, which was carefully introduced, in small increments. He was very gentle, very cautious...and before you know it, we're having anal sex.
It was amazing. I could feel my pussy dripping with pleasure...the feel of fullness, the sound of his moans and sighs, the urgency that culminated in an orgasm that left him shuddering beside me in a moment he called, "reaching enlightenment".
Yeah, I'm a sex goddess that way.
I don't think anal is something I would offer to just anyone. The fact that I trust The Boy implicitly is a huge factor in why I consented to him. So much could go wrong in that type of scenario, I shudder to think of what could happen in the hands of someone who wasn't as conscientious.
I didn't think it was possible to be even more crazy about someone, but I was proven wrong that day. I'm so looking forward to our next play date.
Even after I took my sabbatical from church and started playing with boys, the butt was still strictly off limits. I dated a guy for two years and he was obsessed with butt sex (he even made a game out of begging me for it). For two years, my ass was on high alert for possible invaders. You still poop from there!!
One day, quite a few years back, I was getting a massage from a friend of mine (he was an instructor at a massage school). He was ridiculously hot, and waved a huge freak flag. The massage started innocently enough, but somewhere along the way, the innocent massage became not so innocent, and I ended up with his finger in my ass.
Surprisingly, I found it pleasant.
Fast forward to now, and The Boy. I've decided that The Boy has ruined me for other men...but that is beside the point. Anyway, The Boy had mentioned in the past of his desire for anal play, and in my desire to please him, started to seriously look at the subject. I'm sure every woman has a story if a bad anal experience, and it can be traced to lack of preparation and knowledge by both parties. Hell, I'd even had a bad experience in my formative sexual years. The guy "slips" and ends up in the wrong hole. While writhing in agony, he apologizes, and in the same breath, asks if I liked it. Who in the hell would enjoy something like that? From these bad experiences, I can only surmise that is why a lot of women are turned off by all things anal. That, and the fact that you poop from there.
At any rate, The Boy starts off slow...rimming (which feels awesome!), and then a finger (yes, please). Never forceful, always gentle, and reading my reactions enough to know when to continue or when to retreat. There came a moment when we tried for the big enchilada (his penis) in my forbidden garden, and it was a no-go. For one thing, he's not exactly small. Secondly, my body was just not ready for it.
Back to the drawing board I went.
I read everything I could get my hands on concerning anal sex. The best information I came upon was written by Nina Hartley. I knew she was a porn star. I knew she also used to be a nurse. She's also considered an expert of the Big A. Ordinarily, I think learning anything from porn is a bad idea, but what she wrote about made a lot of sense, and offered great advice for a novice such as myself. Probably because she spoke about it like a nurse.
If I could meet just one porn star in my life, she would be it.
Armed with knowledge, I finally felt I was ready. Unfortunately, The Boy was busy with whatever it is he gets busy with, and I was forced to wait to try out my new found education. And wait.
The time finally arrived when he wanted to come over one morning. I had worked the night before, and I actually sat at the desk weighing sleep vs sex. Sex with The Boy is always amazing, but gosh, sleep is good and I had to go back to work the following night.
In the end, Amazing Sex with The Boy won. Thank God.
We started out in the shower and worked our way to my bed where the Amazing Sex ensued. I always love looking into those expressive brown eyes when he's on top. I get mushy just thinking about it...
Butt sex! Oh yeah, I digress...
After round one, a brief intermission, and then onto round two and I'm getting pretty tired. The Boy mentions anal, and it I was game. The rules: we use lube, and he must listen to my cues very carefully. Agreed.
So, he starts with his fingers while I focus on relaxing...which is a lot harder than one might think. Things progress, and we graduate to his very excited cock, which was carefully introduced, in small increments. He was very gentle, very cautious...and before you know it, we're having anal sex.
It was amazing. I could feel my pussy dripping with pleasure...the feel of fullness, the sound of his moans and sighs, the urgency that culminated in an orgasm that left him shuddering beside me in a moment he called, "reaching enlightenment".
Yeah, I'm a sex goddess that way.
I don't think anal is something I would offer to just anyone. The fact that I trust The Boy implicitly is a huge factor in why I consented to him. So much could go wrong in that type of scenario, I shudder to think of what could happen in the hands of someone who wasn't as conscientious.
I didn't think it was possible to be even more crazy about someone, but I was proven wrong that day. I'm so looking forward to our next play date.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
A High Compliment
The Boy sent me a text message detailing the wonderful things he did to me last night. Only we didn't get together last night.
Was he asleep and dreaming?
No, he was engaging in the time honored practice of self gratification. And he was thinking of me while he did it.
A pretty nice ego boost, if you ask me.
Was he asleep and dreaming?
No, he was engaging in the time honored practice of self gratification. And he was thinking of me while he did it.
A pretty nice ego boost, if you ask me.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
On Matters of Mastering My Bottom
When I was a girl, I was very timid. People took advantage of my giving and gullible nature. Frequently. I was always getting humiliated. My feelings hurt. It turned me into a very quiet, withdrawn person. I never went out, hung out with friends, never had a boyfriend. I was a loner, and when someone showered attention on me, I sapped it up like a sponge, opening myself to being hurt again.
Then, my family life went to shit. In an act of self-preservation, my mother left and alcoholic husband, and three children behind. I was 15 at the time, and I told her to go as I knew she was only staying behind because of us. So, my mother moved out, leaving her children with an alcoholic father. It was decision she feels guilty for this very day.
Being left with an alcoholic father made me grow up quickly. He would go off on his drunken tours, being gone for days at a time. I would maintain a house, cooking, cleaning, laundry, making sure my brothers went to school. I didn't live the life of a normal teenager. I became hard. Angry. Untrusting. I was in control of my life, and God forbid anyone try to take that away. I witnessed firsthand what happens to a woman who gives up control of her life for a man.
Fast forward to now. To say my past experiences have forever shaded my life would be an understatement. I'm not submissive in any aspect of my life (that very thing goes against everything of what a Good Mormon Girl should be). I don't back down from a confrontation. I won't be taken advantage of. I won't be played a fool.
Naturally, my personal relationships have suffered as a result.
I'm a master in the truest sense of the word. I didn't know how to give up control, and if I did, would I be willing to?
Not seriously entertaining this question, I've never delved into dominance and submission in terms of intimacy. The guy got his, I got mine, and the world lived happily every after. But even after having sex, I would lay there, feeling empty. Like eating a rice cake. It was something to do, but in the end, not very satisfying. Something was missing. Something big.
I started to tap into my dominance in the bedroom, and I enjoyed it for a short while, but in the end, it was just another facet of my life that I governed. Being large and in charge grows tedious, and I found myself just wanting to give up the reins in some area, even if was just for a short while.
Then, I met The Boy, who was as completely open to trying new things as I was. The more we communicated, the more open we became with our desires. My need to submit fell in line with his need to dominate. I found that I trusted him enough to want to give him control. That has never happened before.
The first time he tried to dominate, it was almost comical. There are different ways to approach it, and I guess we started off on the wrong one. It turns out, breaking my habit for complete control is like breaking the spirit of a wild animal. There are two ways to go about it. You can either strong-hand it into submission, or you can gain their trust and coax it out. It would appear that I fall into the latter category as a strong will is going to meet the business end of mine.
I want to submit everything to him. I want to please him. I want to make him happy. I want him to know that he is the planet that my moon rotates around...and in return, I just want to know that he's going to be my guardian for the time, recognize me for the Goddess I am. I want to be his little slut, and I want him secure in the knowledge that he's the only one I do it for. I want him to leave his mark on my body. The last time, it was his hand print on my chest where he held too on too tightly (fair-skinned people bruise easily) and I wore it like a brand. I was his, and he owned me. I want to worship him for the magnificent creature he is because I really think he has no idea.
I want him to own me, but not in a degrading way. I want it to be because we are both insanely eager to please each other. I want him to calmly and sweetly approach me like a wild gelding, with gentle kisses and caresses and soft words. And when he's won my trust, I want him to ride me hard in the manner I was made for. I want him to break me, but only because I want to be broken, and it pleases us both. And when we are finished, completely spent and out of breath, their will be no emptiness, but rather being full of the satisfaction that we have gone to the edge, and held nothing back.
Now that we have figured this out, we have yet to test the waters.
Someday soon, I hope.
Then, my family life went to shit. In an act of self-preservation, my mother left and alcoholic husband, and three children behind. I was 15 at the time, and I told her to go as I knew she was only staying behind because of us. So, my mother moved out, leaving her children with an alcoholic father. It was decision she feels guilty for this very day.
Being left with an alcoholic father made me grow up quickly. He would go off on his drunken tours, being gone for days at a time. I would maintain a house, cooking, cleaning, laundry, making sure my brothers went to school. I didn't live the life of a normal teenager. I became hard. Angry. Untrusting. I was in control of my life, and God forbid anyone try to take that away. I witnessed firsthand what happens to a woman who gives up control of her life for a man.
Fast forward to now. To say my past experiences have forever shaded my life would be an understatement. I'm not submissive in any aspect of my life (that very thing goes against everything of what a Good Mormon Girl should be). I don't back down from a confrontation. I won't be taken advantage of. I won't be played a fool.
Naturally, my personal relationships have suffered as a result.
I'm a master in the truest sense of the word. I didn't know how to give up control, and if I did, would I be willing to?
Not seriously entertaining this question, I've never delved into dominance and submission in terms of intimacy. The guy got his, I got mine, and the world lived happily every after. But even after having sex, I would lay there, feeling empty. Like eating a rice cake. It was something to do, but in the end, not very satisfying. Something was missing. Something big.
I started to tap into my dominance in the bedroom, and I enjoyed it for a short while, but in the end, it was just another facet of my life that I governed. Being large and in charge grows tedious, and I found myself just wanting to give up the reins in some area, even if was just for a short while.
Then, I met The Boy, who was as completely open to trying new things as I was. The more we communicated, the more open we became with our desires. My need to submit fell in line with his need to dominate. I found that I trusted him enough to want to give him control. That has never happened before.
The first time he tried to dominate, it was almost comical. There are different ways to approach it, and I guess we started off on the wrong one. It turns out, breaking my habit for complete control is like breaking the spirit of a wild animal. There are two ways to go about it. You can either strong-hand it into submission, or you can gain their trust and coax it out. It would appear that I fall into the latter category as a strong will is going to meet the business end of mine.
I want to submit everything to him. I want to please him. I want to make him happy. I want him to know that he is the planet that my moon rotates around...and in return, I just want to know that he's going to be my guardian for the time, recognize me for the Goddess I am. I want to be his little slut, and I want him secure in the knowledge that he's the only one I do it for. I want him to leave his mark on my body. The last time, it was his hand print on my chest where he held too on too tightly (fair-skinned people bruise easily) and I wore it like a brand. I was his, and he owned me. I want to worship him for the magnificent creature he is because I really think he has no idea.
I want him to own me, but not in a degrading way. I want it to be because we are both insanely eager to please each other. I want him to calmly and sweetly approach me like a wild gelding, with gentle kisses and caresses and soft words. And when he's won my trust, I want him to ride me hard in the manner I was made for. I want him to break me, but only because I want to be broken, and it pleases us both. And when we are finished, completely spent and out of breath, their will be no emptiness, but rather being full of the satisfaction that we have gone to the edge, and held nothing back.
Now that we have figured this out, we have yet to test the waters.
Someday soon, I hope.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Out of the Woodwork
I have a Facebook page, and I have a lot of friends. I'm not one of those people who add everyone with the goal of having the most friends of anyone else on Facebook. No, almost all of my friends are people I know. People I went to church with. People I work with. People I went to school with: elementary, junior, high, college. People who blog. People who I know through gaming online. Close friends. Guys I have dated.
My church is big into networking, and it rubbed off on me. I like that I almost always know someone, who knows someone. That's how I get shit done with the least amount of effort. Work smarter, not harder.
With the changing of Facebook, they added these annoying little quizzes. Usually, I ignore them because I don't care what color crayon you are. I don't care if you should be living in Ireland but you never will because you are stuck in the Midwest the same way I am. Which 80's singer are you? Nope, don't care about that one either.
Occasionally, one quiz will catch my eye and I will do it. The outcome will usually be stupid, and I delete the quiz. One such quiz was "What Sexual Position Are You?"
To answer honestly, they all are. BUT, for the sake of the quiz, I took and ended up with doggie. I'm a lot more sexually outgoing than that, so I was a little dismayed it wasn't something more spicy, like say, the wheel barrel or the reverse cowgirl. It occurred to me that whoever created the quiz might have just had two possible outcomes: missionary and doggie. Lame!
So, I took the quiz, and the result was posted (which I immediately deleted). The next day, I get a message from one of my Facebook friends. A guy I went to high school with. He alludes to my quiz result and speculates that I'm good in bed.
Mind you, I never dated this guy. We merely hung out with the same people. He had never made an attempt to communicate with me until now.
I respond in a vague affirmative, which probably was my mistake because the next time I was online, he pops up in chat and wants details. Then he brags about how great his dick is and how I would like it. I tell him that it takes a lot more than an impressive dick to seduce me.
He tells me that is not what he's looking to do. He just wants a fuck buddy. That same night.
Hmmm...so he doesn't want to get me turned on. He just wants to lay some pipe for the evening because no one else is available. Hit it and quit it. Wham bam, thank you, ma'am.
This tells me that as a lover, he's not concerned with his partner getting hers. This tells me that he's the kind of guy who's governed by his penis. This also tells me that he sucks in bed.
I'm insulted.
Really! Taking one dumb Facebook quiz on sex doesn't mean you are open and accepting all offers on sex. Especially from a guy who you haven't talked to in almost 20 years. I was a virgin until after I graduated high school, so it's not like I had a reputation back then.
Are you kidding me?
I told him to go fuck himself.
My church is big into networking, and it rubbed off on me. I like that I almost always know someone, who knows someone. That's how I get shit done with the least amount of effort. Work smarter, not harder.
With the changing of Facebook, they added these annoying little quizzes. Usually, I ignore them because I don't care what color crayon you are. I don't care if you should be living in Ireland but you never will because you are stuck in the Midwest the same way I am. Which 80's singer are you? Nope, don't care about that one either.
Occasionally, one quiz will catch my eye and I will do it. The outcome will usually be stupid, and I delete the quiz. One such quiz was "What Sexual Position Are You?"
To answer honestly, they all are. BUT, for the sake of the quiz, I took and ended up with doggie. I'm a lot more sexually outgoing than that, so I was a little dismayed it wasn't something more spicy, like say, the wheel barrel or the reverse cowgirl. It occurred to me that whoever created the quiz might have just had two possible outcomes: missionary and doggie. Lame!
So, I took the quiz, and the result was posted (which I immediately deleted). The next day, I get a message from one of my Facebook friends. A guy I went to high school with. He alludes to my quiz result and speculates that I'm good in bed.
Mind you, I never dated this guy. We merely hung out with the same people. He had never made an attempt to communicate with me until now.
I respond in a vague affirmative, which probably was my mistake because the next time I was online, he pops up in chat and wants details. Then he brags about how great his dick is and how I would like it. I tell him that it takes a lot more than an impressive dick to seduce me.
He tells me that is not what he's looking to do. He just wants a fuck buddy. That same night.
Hmmm...so he doesn't want to get me turned on. He just wants to lay some pipe for the evening because no one else is available. Hit it and quit it. Wham bam, thank you, ma'am.
This tells me that as a lover, he's not concerned with his partner getting hers. This tells me that he's the kind of guy who's governed by his penis. This also tells me that he sucks in bed.
I'm insulted.
Really! Taking one dumb Facebook quiz on sex doesn't mean you are open and accepting all offers on sex. Especially from a guy who you haven't talked to in almost 20 years. I was a virgin until after I graduated high school, so it's not like I had a reputation back then.
Are you kidding me?
I told him to go fuck himself.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Allow Myself to Introduce Myself
There are some key things about me that I think you should know.
I'm single. I love sex and everything about it. I'm a Mormon.
While parts one and two are unremarkable in this day and age, the third piece sort of cancels the first two out as within the church, good single girls should not be even thinking about sex. In the grand tradition of my church, I should have been married and popped out at least for kids by my 34th birthday. Also in the grand tradition of the church, I'd also be depressed, popping Prozac like breath mints. My only socialization would be with other members of the church. My blog would be a mommy blog filled with mountains of pictures of my incredibly blessed and vanilla life, helpful pointers of a harried homemaker, and dissections of the inspiring and spirit-filled talks and lessons I had heard that Sunday.
Obviously, this is not my life.
Never married. No kids. I have a career. I am financially independent. I own my own home. In a church full of what others refer to as a "peculiar people", I'm the oddball.
So rather than face the disapproving looks of the matronly women in Relief Society by my mere singleness, I just stopped going. However, some habits die hard, and I still refer to myself as a member of the church, much in the same way someone who hasn't been to mass since they were a child still refers to themselves as Catholic.
I'm also a big fan of sex and all things related. I've read countless books. Researched. Joined message boards. Even tried out a website once. Sensuality. Eroticism. Kink. Whatever fetish you can think of, I'm sure I've read up on it just to satiate my curiosity. My heroes are Dr. Ruth and Sue Johannson. I want their jobs. I've been in relationships and had sex. I've had relationships that were sex-based.
I've decided to stop fighting the sexual beast within and embrace it. Excommunication be damned.
This is my journey.
I'm single. I love sex and everything about it. I'm a Mormon.
While parts one and two are unremarkable in this day and age, the third piece sort of cancels the first two out as within the church, good single girls should not be even thinking about sex. In the grand tradition of my church, I should have been married and popped out at least for kids by my 34th birthday. Also in the grand tradition of the church, I'd also be depressed, popping Prozac like breath mints. My only socialization would be with other members of the church. My blog would be a mommy blog filled with mountains of pictures of my incredibly blessed and vanilla life, helpful pointers of a harried homemaker, and dissections of the inspiring and spirit-filled talks and lessons I had heard that Sunday.
Obviously, this is not my life.
Never married. No kids. I have a career. I am financially independent. I own my own home. In a church full of what others refer to as a "peculiar people", I'm the oddball.
So rather than face the disapproving looks of the matronly women in Relief Society by my mere singleness, I just stopped going. However, some habits die hard, and I still refer to myself as a member of the church, much in the same way someone who hasn't been to mass since they were a child still refers to themselves as Catholic.
I'm also a big fan of sex and all things related. I've read countless books. Researched. Joined message boards. Even tried out a website once. Sensuality. Eroticism. Kink. Whatever fetish you can think of, I'm sure I've read up on it just to satiate my curiosity. My heroes are Dr. Ruth and Sue Johannson. I want their jobs. I've been in relationships and had sex. I've had relationships that were sex-based.
I've decided to stop fighting the sexual beast within and embrace it. Excommunication be damned.
This is my journey.
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