You have me on a boil.  You have my mind racing with deep dark luscious thoughts.  I want to taste your skin with my lips barely brushing you and giving you goose flesh.  I want your salt on my tongue.  I want your hair slipping in my grasp and your name on my breath.  I want to know the color of the flecks in your eyes and trace your jaw with my kisses.  I want your warmth and your scent.  I want your breath.  I want to taste all of you, every inch.

I want your every dip and valley and saddle at my fingertips and on my tongue.  I want to make you laugh with small delight and purr with my heat.  I want you to take in your breath sharply.  I want your muscles to coil to me.  I want you to relax into me, warm to my touch.  I want your thoughts to turn to a hum.  I want you to think in simple small words… yes.. oh.. please.. mmm.. yes.

I want to sync.  I want to roll with you and writhe.  I want you to have to use your arms and your cheek and your leg to slide over my skin because your hands aren’t enough.  And when you are melting, easing into my embrace, I want to sink my teeth into your flesh.  I want you to wonder if the heat you feel is your broken skin.

          I want your heart to speed.  

I want to pull your head back and I want to pause so you can feel the things I want to do to you there.  And I want you to turn over to me and to crave my will.  I want you to want to please me.  I want to make me want to make it hurt just enough to make your blood sing.  I want you to feel your body’s response and I want to make you flush and squirm and swell.  I want you to growl.  I want you to course.  I want you to hear and agree with what I don’t actually say.




Ouch! Beauty is Pain

lipstickToday was the second full day post genital piercings and um.. ouch.  The swelling and bruising is going down, but damn they are sensitive today.  I have this alien part of my brain that sometimes looks at stuff we humans do and thinks about it in wonder.

Women will sometimes go to great lengths to eat all organic and work out and avoid all of these things like BPA (which isn’t actually proven to be any kind of concern unless you boil things in plastic and then drink them) and then smear lots of chemicals on their lips and spread chemical nightmares with bat guano on their eyelashes.  The same women buy all silicone sex toys for safety and then slather them in chemicals to insert them into their vaginas.  People do crazy things.

People do crazy things like pay others lots of money to shove huge 10g needles through their labias and insert steel rings for beauty and sexual enhancement.  Yikes. Yeah. Today I’m feeling that.  I still love them and I’m still glad I did it and I waited a LONG time to make it happen, but yeah.. today the alien brain has much to contemplate.

The alien brain runs wild until I look at my gleaming rings, or until I step from the shower and feel their gentle weight and the way they make me aware of my warm and sensitive labia.  Then I get wet.  And then they hurt.  And I clean them and they ache a little in a not-so-good way (unless you come kiss me).

10g needleI’m glad I did it, but yeah.. today is a day when I just can’t stop thinking about the old phrase that always made me laugh- “beauty is pain”.  I scoffed at that.  I, who won’t wear uncomfortable clothing to be fashionable, who won’t spend an hour each morning doing my hair and make-up as so many women do, who refuses to dress up most of the time because it’s so damn uncomfortable, and who wears my comfy keen shoes almost every day almost all the time.  I scoff at a sexy sexy scratchy pair of panties and a stiff push up bra and daily hair rituals and 15 kinds of make-up.. and then I shove steel skewers through my genitals.  Yeah.  It’s healthy to scoff at yourself sometimes.

They’re beautiful and I love them, but today beauty is pain.



handsSo I haven’t written much because I was processing stuff internally and because I don’t like to communicate via blog.  Cleveland doesn’t read this a lot, but still.

I think we are breaking up.  I said I’d sleep on it, and I will.

It’s hard and shitty and sad. And I’m not sure.  But it’s been a long time coming.  We started to get frustrated talking and decided to sleep on it.  It’s murky.  I know I love him.  I know that I love spending time with him and talking to him and doing things with him and fucking him.  I know I love his sweetness and his intelligence and his lovely dirty mind.  I love podcasting and talking about bloggy things.  I love how good he is at so many things.  And I love his interests.  I’d like to have him in my life.

But I can’t keep doing this.  And I feel TERRIBLE for it.  But it is simply the truth.  This hurts too much.  We don’t really have the room to have a relationship and it just doesn’t work.  I want it to, but it doesn’t.  We’ve had this talk before and I asked for things, the bare minimums for what I thought I needed.

Continue reading

Love Abounds

ImageMy dog died today.  She became sick a few days ago and I found out because the Vet accidentally called me.  I still don’t know exactly what was wrong with her or what the vet said or what the treatment options were because my husband won’t share info with me or answer questions.  He did let me see her though.

I came to the house today and spend a few hours with her.  You could see her come and go in her eyes.  A few times her one eye rolled back in her head and had spasms.  She stood most of the time, looking confused.  She nearly fell a few times, she was so weak.  She had a huge accident right before I got there and threw up while I was there.  She was too weak to lower herself down to lay down, so I helped her.  I laid with her and petted her belly a while.  Her breathing was rapid for a bit, but she calmed when I lay with her and she drifted off to sleep when I sat up and she was mostly in my lap.  She was peaceful for a good long time in her sleep.

I told her everything I felt about her and thanked her again and again.  I told her she was a good dog and that I loved her and how grateful I was for her love all these years.  She helped me raise my stepdaughters and supported me through two of my husband’s deployments, the loss of my father, and so many times when I needed affection or love.

ImageEvery dog walker or dog sitter we’ve ever had has offered to watch her for free just to be with her because she was just such a loving and gentle soul.  Three friends visited her for the therapeutic value of her love and acceptance.  She just radiated good.  I’ve never met a human or animal that radiated that kind of utter goodness and love.  Many people over the years commented on it.  I consider myself blessed to have shared my life with such an amazing being.

When my husband threw me away for Rollergirl, leaving Leeloo (my dog) was actually harder than leaving him.  I don’t make a lot of money and couldn’t afford a place with a dog or the care and feeding of a dog.   Continue reading

The Kink Club

I’m going to talk about how I got kinky and how I’m exploring that now.

I’ve had a resurgence of my Dom quest.

Ever since I broke things off with Kinky boy I’ve been on and off craving exploring more in the vein we had begun.  I’ve always been kinky, even if light in the expression of it.  I’ve long loved handcuffs and ice, wax and kneeling, spanking and passion, dirty talk and manhandling.  It’s the mainstream path my proclivities took.  I read Anne Rice’s kinky books (The Beauty Series) in the early 90’s (my early teens) and have fantasized ever since.

ImageI have had mildly kinky lovers and gotten to try some fun things, but serious “in the scene” kinky kink had eluded me, until last year when I dated Kinky boy.  That relationship was a train wreck of epic proportions but holy god… the sex.  He was seriously kinky.  He was “a huge suitcase full of things I barely know what they are” kinky.

On our first date he laid out all of his toys from his big old suitcase.  I stood there in the center of the room as he completely covered the king sized bed with things I could recognize and those I couldn’t at the time.  There was a ball gag and cuffs, a leather bondage harness, a hood, floggers, paddles, crops, and a cane.  There were gloves and lubes and a candle.  He arranged his ropes and straps and a spreader bar next to his kit of needles and supplies.  I saw a shocker and a tail with a butt plug.  I stood there, mostly naked, as he’d told me to, as he slowly and methodically covered the bed.

When he finished he led me to the bed and told me to pick what I wanted to try.  I told him I didn’t know what a lot of it was.  He explained all the different things and asked me again what I wanted to try.  I asked what he liked to do and he said he liked to do all of it and again asked me to pick.  I was shy.  I didn’t want to ask for what I wanted.  He sat down.  He got up and went to the bathroom.  I peeked in the kit with the medical stuff and the needles and touched a few things.  He came back and sat down again.  After a little bit I cleared my throat and said what I wanted.  I wanted him to use the flogger, and the needles.  I figured a person that was brand new like me would pick the things I’d already recognized… and I wanted to do something bolder from that.  I wanted to do something I was afraid of.  I liked his look when I said “needles”.

ImageIt began a four month exploration of a whole other side of my sexuality and my personality.  Independent, headstrong, feminist, determined me.. was a sub.  I loved being bruised and stinging.  I loved being spanked till I thought I couldn’t take it anymore and wincing and wriggling at his fingers so lightly touching my ass before he fucked me so hard I could not breathe.  I loved that I wanted to do anything to please him.  I loved utterly letting go sometimes, not being in charge or responsible or in control.  I loved reading all about this new world in books and websites, and looking forward all week to Friday nights and how he’d make me shake and surprise me.

There was so much about the relationship that was unhealthy and wrong for me, but I could not let go of our sex.  There was this whole new world of sex and this whole new side of me.  Everything about this was out of character.  It was hard for me to see how much I loved to give it over to him, but I came to terms with it by understanding that I was relinquishing my power.  He wasn’t taking it.  I was giving it to him.

I think I dated him about 3 months longer than I would have because I didn’t want to let go of the sex.  But he just made it impossible and I cut him loose.  And so, I’ve been hoping to find some of that dynamic again.

ImageI’ve talked to a lot.. LOT.. L O T of dudes.  I added and deleted “kinky” from my adult friend finder and my OK Cupid accounts.  I’ve been to lots of munches.  I’ve discovered a few things.

  1. A great number of dudes think kinky means “does anal”.  For the record that’s not an opener.  Also, anal is hardly kinky.
  2. There are a lot of assholes masquerading as Doms.  They try to get all ordery with you the second you show up to a coffee meet and greet.  “Eat that cookie!”.  Um.. you might be a Dom, but you aren’t MY Dom.
  3. Sharing some really cool kinks does not mean you are otherwise compatible.
  4. Lots of guys who say they are Doms have pictures that are VERY different than what they really look like on their OKC profiles.
  5. I’m not an easy sub I guess.  I don’t run all over just submitting.  I want to have crazy awesome kinky fun time sex, but I’m picky.  I want to be attracted to the person and feel like they are trustworthy.  I want them to earn it a little with how they treat me.  I also like being disease free and I want to stay that way.

I recently found Cleveland, of course, and we are having seriously fun times.   There are entire plethoras of stuff we can explore and every time we talk I find 10 more things I want to do to and with him.  He’s a lovely lovely lovely kink.  More importantly he just turns my crank.  He turns me on with his kink and his sensuality.  I love that there is so much I’d like to do with him and eventually I’ll work up the courage to say so.  I’m getting there.  I’m loving him in and out of the bedroom and I’m excited to get to some of the things we dream about.

ImageI’d like to do the harder stuff though too.  I’d like the endorphins of needles again and I’d like to be beaten with a flogger, nicely at first, and then the thuddy pain of it.  I’d like to be taken down and I’d like to play with consentual non-consent, more ropes and more bruises and more handprints.  I’d like to play with power and breath and my edges.  I’d like to be pushed.

So… I’m trying yet another tack.  I joined the local kink club myself, instead of waiting for someone to take me there or guest me in.  I’m hitting events and doing an “all you can eat” month, where I’ll attend a bunch of events.  I’m making friends.  Maybe, just by having fun and meeting cool people and just going about my life, I’ll be around those with similar interests and maybe something can materialize.  And hey.. If not, at least I’ve made cool new friends who share my interests.  There HAS to be people out there who like the twisted shit I like that I can have attraction and chemistry with.  Right?

You gotta keep 'em seperated

Things came to a head again last night with Hubby and I.  I won’t even get into details and I’ll just say that I told him I wanted to separate.  He didn’t seem to get it at first and talked about how we can’t afford that and we don’t need it.  We talked more, about practical things.  He kept saying we just don’t need that and I kept saying that *I* do.  I can’t keep living like this.  I find myself time and again asking myself what I am fighting for here.  We make each other so miserable.  I never, not in a million years, could have imagined that he and I would be here.  It’s why it’s taking me so long.

But.. but.. it’s US. 


I’m 39 years old and I’ve loved this man for 13 years of my life.  He is my only family.  He is my best friend.  We have only had each other through so much of this life, moving place to place with the military.  We can’t be here.  We can’t really be making each other so unhappy.  I know we’ve never been perfect, but we really were really good.

But I can’t live like this.  It’s affecting my sleep and my digestion.  My hair is falling out.  I swear it is.  My body hurts and I’ve had 3 migraines in the last 2 weeks.  I can’t keep expecting the jackal and getting Mr. Hyde.  I just can’t.  Everyone has a limit.

Continue reading