Of Bully Bags and Bitches
I’m on my final week of ‘vacation’ in the northeast. Wrapping up some serious dental work which took longer than expected, giving peter his last opportunity with me, and visiting with my M&M friend. I had planned for one week, it’s now been three. I’ve enjoyed myself. Particularly now that my smile is back to normal; I’d broken a tooth last year and been struggling to find funds to have it repaired. It had really begun to affect my self esteem, which is generally pretty well placed. Between the dentist and the literally hundreds of men who’ve practically chased me down the streets as I wander town here, it’s safely back in excellent territory for the first time in a long while.
I’ve had some good conversations with peter. Rather, revealing, not necessarily good in the traditional sense. Seems he thinks the word ‘bitch’ is synonymous with ‘jackass’. So when he says he can’t help being a bitch- something he says often, he means he can’t help being an ass. Wrong. I hope I get the opportunity to teach him just how wrong…and yes, if I do, you’ll hear all about it. Years ago when we first met, I voiced thoughts that his assenine behavior might be his way of trying to garner dominant attention to a well respected publicly blogging submissive at that time. Who promptly tok the opportunity to try to be demeaning when he told me I was mistaken and that many dominants make this mistake. Because I”m not submissive or masochistic in any way, and still sometimes find the behavior of those who are confounding, I had to take his word for it and look for other answers. Which I have been doing for a very long time, looking for some deeper, more complex answers to why he acts like such an ass with me but then can’t seem to stay away from what I have to offer, either. As it turns out, I was right after all. Mistaken indeed.
Meanwhile my M&M has been his wonderful self, and having such an extended time to spend together has led to a deeper friendship and many more personal sharings and revelations that we’ve shared in the past. He’s revealed some dominant fantasies, and we’ve talked more about the attraction that dominance holds for me. And I’ve made really clear that none of those fantasies will be lived out with me on the receiving end, thankfully he’s been receptive and understanding. But I felt badly, since I know I am the only opportunity for sexual contact he has, or has had, in a long time. Until, that is, he appeared at the apartment (where he stays for work and where I am staying to reduce travel costs) with an impish grin saying he had the perfect gift for me. He pulled from his backpack an interesting looking container and handed it to me, saying he thought it was the one thing a Domme just should never be without…
Bull scrotum bag
So, if you’re unsure… YES, it’s a ‘bag’ made from a ’sac’. A bull’s scrotum, tanned into a hardened leather, hair intact, and strung up to make a lovely container, to be precise. I am still deciding what goes in it, but I am thinking possibly the tiny clothespins. M&M was right. No Domme should be without a bag made of balls. He didn’t know how extra appropriate it was that it’s made from a BULL’S sac, because we haven’t really discussed cuckoldry much. But it sure made MY day.
Speaking of bitches/asses, I went on some dates early in my trip with local gentlemen. One was mentioned a few posts ago. The other one went far better, at least at first. We met for lunch after making plans to do so for two days that I had to cancel due to my dental work. So when I asked the last time I canceled if he wanted to meet the next day, same time, I wasn’t expecting him to accept, but he did. I undertook the hour long trek across town to an area nowhere near a public transit stop, while still managing to keep my hair and makeup intact, texting him to confirm about ten minutes before we were to meet. He responded that he’d be a few hours, we’d have to make it a late lunch. I let him know I was already at the restaurant and am not in the habit of waiting around for tardy dates; and he seemed genuinely to think we had miscommunicated, so I gave him a second chance. We met about an hour later and had a wonderful lunch, and then spent the next 10 (!) hours talking non-stop. It was refreshing, he was definitely more of a gentleman than my previous date, and I was looking forward to another when he asked. So earlier this week he texted before lunch to ask my plans. I told him I”d love to meet in a part of town I had to get to for an errand in the next few hours, and he agreed- we planned to text each other when in the area, shortly. I went, ran my errands, walked around a bit, and finally around 4 pm texted him to say I was going to find some lunch on my own. He said he’d love to try and meet me after that, and I let him know I had evening plans with someone else but I could postpone them a bit to meet up with him, and we planned again for him to text me once he got to the neighborhood where I was. I didn’t count on it, and good thing I didn’t. Around 8 I met my dinner date, M&M. And finally got that text from the other guy around nine. Nine hours after our original plans to meet. I politely declined and gave a subtle brush off response. He didn’t get it, and continued to text throughout the night/morning hours, and all day yesterday, despite my lack of response. After telling him today that every one of the rest of my vacation days were booked with plans from people I had no doubt would keep them, he responded with surprise, as if he thought I was just waiting on call for a date with him.
Guh. Bitches. Can’t live with em…. Can’t cut off their balls and make a nice handbag.
I have definitely crossed some sort of threshhold.
So, I’m in the northeast on a vacation. And yes, still, to visit p.- which is going as usual on his end, and very differently on mine. It’s the last time, and he’s going to regret it. And you all will get to read all about it, very soon. There may even be pictures or a video.
Anyhoo. While here biding my time, and visiting with friends whose schedules became unexpectedly overqhelmed, I decided to place a Craigslist ad for some entertaining dates. It’s always a fun excercise- responses leave plenty of psychological flotsam to ponder. My ad just said I was looking for a nice simple date, no expectations beyond good conversation. And for some smoke; I don’t drink really- nor do I enjoy how it makes me feel during or after, so I come by my chemical relaxation differently.
My evening plans ended up being made with an attorney much older than me and very different from the younger men who replied. Mainly because he had the goods and didn’t fuck around with asking me to make plans and letting me know he understood what I’d been looking for right off, while everyone else was still working their one liner emails. Plus I spent about ten years dating much older men and they’re generally putty in my hands, he had easy going plans for the night, and I knew I was going to have a long day, and I’m not really a crowded bar type.
Before meeting we spoke ont he phone a few times and I should have seen the night’s events coming when he wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise…but I knew he was a short New Yorker and chalked it up to that from past experiences. We met up for coffee first, and then went to his place for a game of scrabble over some smoke and white russians and hockey in the background. I know- exciting, but it was right up my alley. We flirted and bantered and it was very fun. Really what I needed after a long and tedious week. After the scrabble game he made his move on me pretty quickly, and I wasn’t totally warmed up to the idea at first but decided what the hell once we started making out. He was a good kisser.
I’d mentioned in a few different subtle ways that I was kinky- I almost made the word ‘quirt’ (on a triple word score) – which is a very small whip like thing that I had in my purse- we had a ‘that’s a good word’ joke going, so I said “that’s a great word, and I know because I have one”. And thought that I had made it fairly clear that I am not the submissive type in other less subtle ways- I’m no wallflower and don’t give off those vibes. So when he grabbed a handful of hair and began to tug on it I politely but firmly said “Don’t pull my hair”.
He backed down a bit but kept getting aggressive in other ways. Not in a threatening way at all, or I’d have used my already well placed knee. More in a Dom sort of way.
I can and do enjoy vanilla sex, and with someone I know and trust I can enjoy some rough play during sex, but I’ve never enjoyed someone who gets aggressive right away since it’s usually a sign their either violent in other ways or a Dom. And I rarely end up making out with someone who is. So, to get my point across, I found his nipple through his shirt, and pinched it. First a little, then harder. He seemed to like it, we kissed again and I kept pinching… He said “Ow!”, and I said “Good”, and gave him a wicked look. He said something like “I don’t know about that”, and went to kiss me again. By this time I was not giving receptive body language back as he tried to pull me in various directions, but was still allowing him to kiss my neck. Then he went to pinch MY nipple, AND he started to try to pull me into a laying position on the couch by my leg, which is when I had to put the kaibosh on the whole thing and explain that I don’t ’switch’, at all. And apparently, neither does he.
He didn’t seem to believe me. And made several attempts kissing me again as I worked to extricate myself from the couch. I finally had to raise my voice to get it across- it wasn’t going to happen. I excused myself to the ladies room and quietly ordered a taxi with an iphone app. I came back in and said “Aww, come on. You’re not going to let me tie you up and spank you?” – and he said stunned “That’s what *I* say!” with his mouth ajar. Finally, he saw the humor in the whole situation and we had a good laugh. But he still kept trying to get me into the sack and push me around, saying how he’d never had anyone not like that sort of thing. He was also disappointed he wasn’t going to get to use his new sport-sheets set, and clearly a bit angry he wasn’t going to be having sex with me- although he did his best to hide it. Thank GAWD I sussed him out before I got into the bedroom, or you may have been reading about all of this is the newspaper instead of my blog. While laughing together and waiting for the cab, he mentioned that ‘this would go in the book’- a book he’s writing which he wouldn’t describe. I told him I’d be writing about it too, and told him I’d send him a link if seeing a man’s penis covered in tiny clothespins wouldn’t bother him. He turned a funny shade and said, no thanks. Then tried to kiss me again. I thought about twisting up his sac before I walked out, but in the end just went for a nipple again as the cab arrived. So easy.
In the past, I’ve had no problem and in fact have thoroughly enjoyed having all kinds of sensual interactions, including those with a more physically aggressive partner, especially when I have no intention of it being a long term thing. I have never NEEDED to be Dominant the first time I was intimate with someone whom I’ve not approached as a dominant, or felt oddly when dominating behavior comes about during foreplay- usually I can turn it around pretty quickly, too. But this time was different. Very different. As funny and silly as the story is, I recognized right away that I had definitely crossed a line somewhere back down the road without knowing it. I felt a little wistful for a simpler time. And a little surprised- I wasn’t expecting that. And a lot proud, as I can remember a time not so long ago when I wasn’t sure enough of myself to have stopped and left, or spoken up about my desires and needs so easily. I found myself wishing it wasn’t 3 am and that I had an easy way to get over to p.’s house ASAP, to make use of my new discovery.
It was a bit strange, and a lot ironically funny. But I’m still wondering how I crossed that line, and how far back down the road it really is.
Yay! I have a present on the way!
It’s ridiculous that this means so much to me but it does, and whatever.
Last night I talked with p. for the first time since C.’s bad news changed all my plans, again. Since part of my plan to head northeast included being in his city for an extended amount of time so we could pursue things on a more normal basis, and now I won’t be doing that for a while, it was bad news for him too.
Frankly I expected him to disappear for a while as he is wont to do at such times. But instead we had one of the best conversations ever; he’s learning that he can be my friend as well as my bitch, finally. And to make me smile (and show me he took my threat to take on one of the other two cucks I am talking to now instead of him seriously) he sent me a Realdoe, which I’ve been asking for since Christmas. I’ve decided I don’t looove how I look in my harness, nor do I enjoy the ten minute mood-killer break I have to take to get into it. I’ve been waiting to buy a Feeldoe until they came in a realistic color- just my preference; but I’ve already decided if I like it, I’m getting the black ’stout’ as well. So, for once, p. did good.
It should be no big thing to send me gifts. But my recalcitrant slut is soooo nervous about his conservative image that he didn’t pick up a package from me last year fearing it held evidence of his kinky desires; but all it held was an antique medical book as a gift for finishing his residency. So it was a big step… I never thought I’d be in a place where a dildo represented a large step in my most important relationship…but here we are.
I’ll be visiting him soon, so a toy review will be forthcoming, too. I can’t wait to use it on him.
The thing about double fisting someone is…you can’/t take a picture of it
I have had a fun playmate recently; a very young and handsome marine I met on Alt. He’s… well, he’s 22. He lives about an hour away for the next year finishing college before heading off to serve us all. Young, I know; but also fun. Intelligent and for his age, pretty mature. Adorably cute and shy about his kinky needs ; but an otherwise open and happy personality. And a real slut. We ended up playing after several months of talking online and a long sexy date; we made out and had some good but vanilla sex that night, and he stayed the night. I woke up several times with him wrapped tightly around me; very very sweet. If I hadn’t been experiencing thyroid induced night sweats, that is. That was pretty much the only time I felt waaay too old to have him in my bed, fortunately.
In the morning I was ready to play again and woke him after having my coffee by grabbing his hard half asleep cock, pushing him onto his back, and riding him to an orgasm (mine, not his). I had a smoke and then ordered him to present his wrists for binding. Bound his forearms with bondage tape and put him on his knees, face down. I straddled his thighs and spanked him a bit, he seemed non-plussed. I pulled out my mini flogger- a biting 12 strand suede number only about a foot long and alternately caressed and whipped his ass crack with it, talking with him more about his likes and dislikes. It was clear he was not a masochist and we weren’t/aren’t yet at a point where enduring pain for my pleasure is pleasurable for him.
Moving on, I decided to try and see if I could eventually stuff his ass with that giant dildo I got last year, knowing his primary interests were anal play, so I ordered him onto his knees and leant over, whispering in his ear to spread his legs. Bingo…that was his trigger; he arched his back and spread his legs wide like a good little slut. My fingers slid in easily- first two, then three, so I grabbed a vibrator- more average sized- and that too, nearly got swallowed right away- no pull cord, time to look for another toy. I got out the shenis I posted about a while back and my strap on harness. Made him face away while I put it on because- gawd- could you look more ackward and unsexy as when you’re tightening up straps? Anyway.
As I was mounting him he admitted that he’d never been fucked with a strap on, and seemed a bit relunctant. I hadn’t used the shenis in the harness. It wasn’t good. Maybe the straps could have been better adjusted but I think it was the balls. The rubbery dong material made them really bouncy which screwed up the rythm. Neither of us were loving it and when he said his hands were getting tingly I took the opportunity to roll him over and cut the tape off, take off my harness, and mount him for my own orgasm before turning him back over and using the shenis without the harness. Now, this thing is thick and long enough that, for myself, it’s about 1/2 inch too girthy to be comfortable and I could only take in about half of it the couple of times I tried. But this little slut was taking it without even breathing hard. That sort of pissed me off.
I began questioning him about his anal habits and he mentioned fisting himself regularly, so without a word I handed him my rings and watch. The look on his face as he turned to grab them and put them on the side table was pretty priceless. I lubed up and then really could not believe how quickly my whole hand slid in, almost effortlessly. I began working his prostate and smacking his very round ass as he moaned and told me about what a real anal slut he was. He began talking about having always wanted to be double fisted and even though we hadn’t talked about it ahead of time I just could not supress my curiosity. A minute later both of my hands were wrist deep in Marine ass, clenched into fists and twisting back and forth. He reached behind and felt his hole stretched around my slender wrists and began to cum, and appologize for cumming, and moan loudly. That spurred me on and I began pumping his ass with both hands until he began to beg “I can’t take any more”. I stopped… of course I’m still learning his limits, but I really wanted to tie him again and find something large enough to stuff his ass with that I could then use my hands elsewhere. We laid in bed and I stroked his hair while he recovered. As he cleaned up in the bathroom I found myself wishing I had a photo of him reaching around to feel his asshole stretched around my two wrists and trying to figure out how I could work that out next time.
He needed to head home rather quickly and didn’t rmessage me again for over a week. I chalked it up to a number of things and wasn’t heartbroken; but had wanted to talk with him about the experience away from the moment; I think that’s important especially with new partners and any time you cross an uncharted boundary. He was back in touch this week explaining that he’s never entered a relationship that involved BDSM from the start and needed some time to process his feelings; which I can understand and respect. I was/am impressed with his ability to be in touch with his emotions and share them. And have been surprised at his continued interest. He sends me sweet text messages throughout the day and I plan to see him again soon. I don’t know where I’d like it to lead; for now it is simply nice to have a fun playmate who is also making an effort to become a real friend.
Off to explore the self timer features of my camera…
Lunches with the exes
The last few weeks have been soo … emotionally dramatic. I keep trying to blog about them and ending up with these long messes that don’t even make sense to me. I’ve done a lot of personal introspection and that’s too hard to blog about for now, I’m still distilling. And of course, as always happens when I try and move on, purge and renew, some of my exes made appearances.
When things ended/but didn’t end with p., I was planning a final trip to see him before he moved to MA. We’d been talking about it on and off for a long time. He’d promised specifically, not to cancell last minute, or make up excuses; just to let things happen. I had arranged my daughter’s yearly visit with her grandparents to coincide with the two weeks before he moved. He knew, within a few day period with allowances for his work time, when I was arriving- I chose not to share my specific arrival because of his past cancellations …always the night before I was to come. I made the mistake of talking to him online within that time period and he went from being so excited he couldn’t contain himself to using the safewords I’d given him to totally end the relationship in about 3 minutes. (of course the next week he was back apologizing, rinse, repeat)
Yes. I have spent yet another of my yearly breaks at home. Instead of doing what I’d planned to do with and to p.. But this post isn’t about him, since I’m not posting about him anymore (right- you are welcome to all roll your eyes at this point). The explanation was just necessary to set up why and how that led to boredom and something bad…. A moment of weakness.
For those of you who may remember I started my foot fetish work and immediately got a request for an appointment from L.; who then didn’t stop emailing me until I had to say something nasty to him. He later replied that he totally understood and apologized. You may also remember that he had a bracelet I’d left with him in a previous moment of weakness a few years ago, when I realized what a bad idea it had been and tried to sneak out while he was asleep. It was from my grandmother’s estate and he knew this; but didn’t know it had never been worn and had spent 40 years in a closet- it had no real value, sentimental or otherwise. We’d gotten into a nasty fight not long after that unsuccessful sneaking out, and I’d told him to keep it in an effort to make a clean break. Being very sentimental, he wouldn’t let it die and kept using it as a means to keep contact with me until I’d been successful in losing his efforts to find me. Until, that is, the foot fetish site. Anyway. Back to the moment of weakness. I emailed him to see if he wanted to go to lunch. I’d been introspective and hoped he had reached a stable enough mental point that I could ask him some questions, seek some closure for myself. I wanted to get back the bracelet and remove any further reason to keep contact with me. And if I am honest with myself, was really really horny AND wanted to tie him up tight and enjoy myself with him one last time before asking him those questions. I know. Bad idea.
He accepted my invitation as quickly as I knew he would. He told me he’d just been laid off again (had lost his job not long after we broke up), and was still fighting his depression and anxiety, starting a new medication that weekend. I decided to assess the situation over lunch before involving ropes…I’d already offered and had it accepted. I wore strappy sandals and his favorite color of polish, but tried to not dress up too much- just a white summer skirt and tee-shirt. We met and it was clear he’d been crying. Hugged and …whew. That was hard for both of us. We spent almost five hours sitting there catching up, flirting and making our old private jokes like it hadn’t been four years, but tiptoeing around it. Bittersweet. His hands shook, and there were moments I thought he might break down…and we weren’t talking about anything too deep. I’d mention my daughter or his favorite cat, and he’d tear up. It was sad and hard to watch. It was clear he wasn’t ready for my questions. To hear them or to answer them. By the time I decided that, he had mentioned my shoes and polish a few times. I mentioned that we’d been there a bit long and said we should go somewhere else; he said he had to go feed an out of town friend’s animals. Puhleease. He went for an opening just as he walked me to the car. I got in and he held the door open. He mentioned the shoes again and then asked if I was wearing panties. I responded by telling him he might find out but then there were those poor unfed pets. His posture changed, he patted me on the back goodbye, and shut the door. Whew. Crisis averted. Oh yeah, I did get my bracelet.
Back when sparky and I ended things, I realized I’d left my favorite silver hoops on his headboard and emailed him a few days after that last dinner to ask him about them. He had them but was leaving for vacation; asked me to lunch when he returned. We finally made plans earlier this week for lunch yesterday. I told him to call me Thursday to set a time. He did and talked to me for an hour and twenty minutes. I did a lot of the talking but he actually asked me questions. This is something he didn’t do much of when we were dating. We got into a discussion about chastity and he got all hot and bothered. I knew because his voice changes and he gets all breathy when he has a hard on. Before going to bed later Thursday night I checked my profile for the maid position to reply to some responders, and saw that sparky had been by my profile. Hrrmm. We met at a closeby mexican restaurant; I had been stuck in traffic so he was there ahead of me. And had obviously seated himself so that I could face the door- he does read this blog. He had also taken the liberty of ordering me tea. I don’t really like restaurant tea, but it was a very nice gesture. We had a nice lunch, caught up on things. It seemed like he wanted to say or ask something but was having a hard time doing so. We were talking about one of my brothers, the golden child; whose super power is luck and who is also a bit holier than thou. I told sparky that when he gets too big for his britches I just ‘accidentally’ send him a link to thinks like penis sounds. That led to sparky telling me more about his kind experiences and feelings about it than I could get out of him in nine months of having him in my bed. I’m beginning to think it’s this restaurant- it’s the same one he brought his CBT to to have me lock him up at. After about two hours I had to be rather direct about ending the lunch and told him I’d meet him outside, where I had one of his sweatshirts in my car. He went to the men’s room, I sat on the bench outside for a smoke and picked up the Chronicle for a quick read of the letters to the editor. He snuck up and sat down close next to me looking like he was about to spit it out.
“Yes?” I turned to him.
He stomped his foot slightly and pursed his lips. “It was nice talking with you last night”
And then he quickly kissed me on the lips. I told him that I agreed and he could call anytime he felt like it. It was nice. Just nice. I walked him to my car to get his shirt, we joked a bit about him wearing it in the 100 degree heat, he said it again.
“It was really nice having lunch with you”
“Yes. We can do it again.”
Another kiss. I told him goodbye and drove off.
So um. Yeah. That’s my tale of luches with the exes. One moment of weakness averted, one revealed.
(I will try and be nice and go through and cross link all the old posts this one refers to sometime soon for you newer readers- but you can always use the search function at the bottom of the page.)