Secret Confessions of a Smart Girl

Ok. Apparently I was a little more inebriated last night than I thought I was… or at least more exhausted, since I don’t think that even I can get drunk on half a bottle of beer. I’ve edited this blog post for incomprehensibility. My apologies to anyone who read it already.
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I went to see a friend’s play tonight (well, 5 friends’ play) and the lickability quotient of the members of the cast who I didn’t know was way too high. There was pretty much no one in the show who wasn’t fuckable (in a theoretical sense), and I stupidly went out to drinks and dinner with all of them after my incredibly long day (I got up at 6 AM and headed into the city to tech and perform my own show today so at that point I had been up for 16 hours of constant running around) . I was bad. I was very bad. I groped one boy repeatedly, because he was as tactile as I am and it was fun (Alas, he has a girlfriend so I had to restrain myself to decorous molestation. It was not easy. I bit his quadricep. But I didn’t kiss him. or touch him anywhere inappropriate. Even though I wanted to.) And then I discovered at the end of the night that Insanely Hot Girl was not, in fact, heterosexual. Fucking mistaken friend. That girl had the most incredible legs, and ass, and… man. Not that “not heterosexual” implies interested, but…. SHINY. I wanted to do inappropriate things to her body. In particular I wanted to lick her thigh, and….

AHEM.

I’m overtired and overstressed and for some unknown reason that means that my sex drive is even higher than normal (so helpful!). Stick me at a table of oversexed theater folks who have just finished doing a highly erotically charged play and it makes it very difficult for me to act like a lady. Case in point: I spent around 30 minutes at dinner sitting in a gay man’s lap while he tried to figure out if he could use my hair clips as nipple clamps. My impression is that he’s something of an omnivorous gay man - mostly interested in men, but primarily just really fucking horny. For obvious reasons, I appreciate that in a person. According to a text message he sent after he left, his boyfriend is okay with my jumping him. I wonder if that’s true. I’ve always wanted to have sweaty naked time with a gay man*, and he’d be an excellent choice… all goofy and ridiculous. Probably never going to happen, but… man would it be fun.

I would like to say that I only had half a beer (and a few experimental tastes of other people’s drinks), so there’s no way I’m drunk, at least not on alcohol. Still, I’m acting like it, because I’m going to admit to the world that I’m so fucking horny that I might explode. A little touch tends to make me want a lot more. It’s quite easy to get me worked up and into attack mode. And, man, hands. HANDS.

I have developed a thing about strong hands. Strong hands grabbing my back muscles for a massage makes me want them to grab other things, and I get a bit… fixated. I just really enjoy being manhandled and when I see strong hands, I want them on me. A lot. Like that date I had 6 months ago where I spent the entire time looking at his hands and imagining them on me. Hurting me. Pleasing me. Maybe both at once. I just like the feeling of hands on my skin. It’s such an intimate kind of pain and control.

The boy of molestation walked back with me most of my way to my car, because his bus was leaving from along my route, and it took every inch of willpower I had not to shove him up against a building and do things I could have been arrested for doing in public.

I think I really have changed in the last year. I hope it’s for the better.

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*I certainly know a lot of lesbians who occasionally fuck men. It’s not completely a ridiculous thought. Although it’s less about sex, most of the time, than finding the gay leather scene really fucking hot. Still, getting to fool around with a frisky gay puppy… how would that not be fun for me?

I had a discussion the other day where we decided that cookies, cock-sucking, and a catnap would be a good recipe for an enjoyable afternoon… not necessarily in that order.

I’ve been working a lot lately on finding my inner slut and figuring out how I can have more sex with less stress. There was a time in the not so distant past when I was utterly incapable of doing the sex-without-a-relationship thing. Over the past year or so, however, I have gotten substantially sluttier*, to my great satisfaction.

I really like sex when I’m not emotionally or mentally conflicted about it. I think that the recipe for said lack of conflict is as follows.

1. Being seriously attracted to the person I’m going to be having sex with. Not just mildly attracted, I have to really want to fling myself at them and rip their clothes off.
2. Deciding, in concert, that sex may occur before we’re in a place together where sex could occur.
3. Having a comfortable and competent discussion about STD testing and sexual history well in advance of the actual sex. If the conversation isn’t comfortable than I’m not going to feel comfortable sleeping with them. If the conversation doesn’t occur in advance then I haven’t really made an informed decision and I’m going to end up beating myself up.**
4. Not feeling like I’m talking my partner into sex. Sometimes begging can be fun, but I don’t like feeling that they wouldn’t have wanted to have sex with me if I hadn’t been so pushy.
5. Not feeling like I’m being talked into sex. If my instinct isn’t to give an enthusiastic yes then my answer should be no.

I really need the first four, and the fifth has never even been an issue for me except in retrospect***. When I’ve compromised on one or more points in the past I’ve ended up feeling bad about the decisions I’ve made (even if the sex was great). When I haven’t compromised, I’ve ended up all purry and wanting to jump people more often. Jumping people is fun.

I think part of what has confused me in the past is that what attracts me to people for play is very different than what attracts me to people for sex, and I’ve felt that shouldn’t be the case. Realistically, however, there are lots of people who I really enjoy playing with who I’m not even remotely sexually attracted to. I’m far more rarely sexually attracted to someone who I don’t think I’d like playing with, but it does happen****. Attraction aside, the thing that’s most essential in making me happy about sex is practicing what I preach.

I was a sex educator before I ever started having sex, and I am still one to this day. It may have warped me a little bit, but I choose to think that warping was for the good. Mostly, I just like to avoid being a hypocrite. If I can’t do something myself, I shouldn’t be telling anyone else that they need to do it. So when I follow all my rules when trying to lure someone into sweaty naked time, I end up feeling pleased on multiple fronts.

Speaking of pleased on multiple fronts… I spent way too much time this weekend talking about boobs. By the end of the weekend I’d spent so much time talking about boobs that I was having meta-conversations about talking about boobs. Oh god. Now I’m blogging about my meta-conversations. Does that mean I’m meta-once-removed? I need to remove myself from this blog at once. Good night, and good riddance (to my consciousness)!
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*Which on the grand scale of sluttiness still isn’t very. I can no longer count the number of people I’ve slept with on one hand, but I’ve still got a finger or two to go on the other.
** It’s much more fun if someone else does that. Seriously. It’s an enormous turn on when someone is turned on by hurting me.
*** Still, I’d rather regret sex I didn’t have than sex I did have.
****Names withheld to protect the not even remotely innocent… and my ego.

I’m wearing my slutty pants this week. My play-slutty pants that is. So far I have 2 (or 3) play dates scheduled in the next 7 days, both of which I am really looking forward to. One is going to involve singletails & submission and the other one is going to involve needles and distraction by The Adorable Girl. I have no idea what said distraction will entail, but as long as she’s involved in it it will probably be both goofy and enjoyable. The third one may be postponed for a week so that I can travel up to the Northern Lands for a few days, where I already have one play date (presumably involving my being mind-fucked, since that’s what she seems to enjoy) and one actual date* (presumably involving no type of fucking at all, sadly enough) scheduled, and I am hoping to have the chance to attack a few more people while I am there**. I’m getting tired just thinking about it!

I can’t decide if it would be really great to always be this socially active or if I would never get any work done at all. As it is, I must now force myself to get at least two weeks ahead on all my contract writing so that I don’t feel guilty if I get nothing at all done while I’m in travel mode (not to mention write the 4 articles that are due while I’ll be out of town). Huzzah motivation!

Speaking of getting work done, this week I got a really nice bunch of sex toys in the mail for review. The Lucid Dreams #54 is my second vibrator from the collection (the first being the #69) and if these two are anything to go by, Doc Johnson deserves to be a very wealthy company indeed. They’re both shaped really, um, effectively, and if you ever get around to turning them on they are also reasonably powerful and quiet. The vibrators are also waterproof, which is a glorious thing since the only downside to these toys is that the material they’re made of smells completely vile. The company would do well to let the things outgas for a week or two before boxing them up and sending them out to distributors. The other exciting toy for the week was a glass dildo. I’ve never had a glass dildo before, even though I’ve heard many people sing their praises - for, among other things, their ability to take and hold temperature changes. I apologize for not believing all of you earlier, because … wow. The combination of the weight and the fact that it’s made up of an utterly unyielding material is rather intense, and go well with fantasies involving violation and domination. At least they do for me. My third toy of the week was a Hitachi knock off, which does nothing for me as a sex toy but feels absolutely glorious on my overworked muscles. This will be my last round of toys for a few weeks. I owe everyone (including the toy site) paid content and I asked them to hold off sending me anything new until April so that I can get caught up on my obligations.

I must say, this has turned into an awfully long post for something that was just supposed to be “I get to play a lot, soon, and should therefore have interesting things to talk about!” I would, however, sincerely like to solicit comments on my first footnote. I’ve found coming out about my kink to be relatively awkward in the past***, and I don’t want to fuck this one up.
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*Finally! I’ve been trying to go out with this boy for, depending on how you calculate it, either 2 months or 2 years, and it’s finally going to happen. I hope. If I manage not to muck it up somehow. Can I wait to come out to him as kinky until after we’ve had the date and discover if we like each other as anything other than just friends? I’m pretty sure he already knows I am bisexual. Besides, with this much time for expectation to build, we’ll probably have no chemistry whatsoever.

**As well as hang out with some non-attackable friends and snuggle a small child and some cats. I need my current plans to firm up so I can start sending out the next round of scheduling e-mails.

***One evening in grad school, the girl I was about to have a second date with called for directions to my house and I, in a fit of self revelation, came out about being kinky on the phone. Two hours after she was due to show there was no sign of her, and so I had to invite over a friend to enjoy my stood-up meal of Caesar salad, homemade pasta sauce, cilantro pesto bread, and apple pie. It made me a wee bit paranoid. The food, however, was fantastic.

The universe gives you blood, bruises, and orgasms all in the same night.

I feel like yesterday evening was such an excellent play party experience that I must have done something truly virtuous to deserve it. I got to play with a bunch of people I really like in a bunch of ways I really like, and I also got to fling myself annoyingly at an inexplicably hot boy. I was kind of obnoxiously flirtatious. There was Great Hotness everywhere, and I was full of endorphins and I could not shut up. Really, if I think about it too much, I will probably end up completely embarrassed at my behavior.

The first scene of the evening for me was needles. The first, and possibly only, time I had been pierced before was 10 years ago (I looked it up, because I knew the girl who pierced me became International Ms. Leather later that year.) I had liked it, but somehow I had never managed to do it again because most of the people I know who play-pierce are not people I want to play with. But last night I got to play with a wonderfully silly woman (let me know if you want to be identified, lady) who loves piercing and I had a blast. I spent most of the time she was sticking the needles in me (8 needles on each breast in a circle around my nipples with the needle tips poking them. It was so pretty that we took pictures, one of which I will post to this blog when I get a copy. I was so pleased with the aesthetics that I walked around showing people my breasts all night.) cackling in hysterical laughter - as did she. It was _fun_. A couple of times I had to safeword for oxygen (laughing too hard to breathe), but I was in a seriously happy headspace. I like needles. They hurt, when they hurt, in a very enjoyable way, and when they don’t hurt they just feel really really good. I also discovered that having someone hold my hands over my head so that I could have something to pull against was both Fun and Helpful since it meant I didn’t actually do anything dangerous and helped me process some of the silliest bits of the pain into pleasure.

I came out of that scene rather insanely giddy, and after eating some dinner found P., the friend with whom I had had one really good play date and one really disappointing play date, to try again. He decided to spare my Poor Abused Bosom (which is still really pleasantly achy even 12 hours later) and just beat the crap out of me with a variety of canes, floggers, single tails, and slappy things that ranged from nice to moderately evil. I had a really good time, even though I had to yellow several times on “things that scared me because they felt like they were going to damage me instead of just hurt me.” I’m trying to be better about that, because I like pain but damage stresses me out. Still, despite my moments of “eek!”, we managed to have a pretty intense scene and I came out of it covered with some relatively impressive bruises - something I didn’t realize until a friend commented on them about 20 minutes later.

After hanging out and eating a little more dinner (endorphins make me hungry!) I went into the other room to chat with some friends of mine and ended up making out with the Really Pretty Man who I seem to always end up making out with at this party (as opposed to the Really Pretty Woman who I seem to always end up making out with at this party). After a bit of that, and my ending up pressed against the wall with his thigh between my legs, vibrating against my clit, he asked me if I wanted to go have a scratching session, and after all the blood and pain I was feeling insanely horny so I said yes. So we went into the other room and he scratched the hell out of my back, grabbing my bruises, giving me deep bites, and commenting favorably on my pain tolerance until I was writhing under him like a cat in heat. At which point I considered my sexual limits, decided that fingers outside of the underwear would not set off problems for me and ended up with a screaming orgasm as he sucked on my much abused breast and did lovely things to me until I couldn’t breathe. (If I was capable of giving relative strangers oral sex it would have happened right then because dear lord did I want to suck his cock, but I’m not so… other solutions were found. I have to say that was one of the least stressful “here are my sexual limits” negotiations ever, and I think things were resolved to our mutual satisfaction.) It didn’t help my breathing that next to me people were discussing the sexual possibilities of a bouncy house and I couldn’t stop laughing.

That was my last semi-formal scene of the night. The rest of the evening was spent cuddling, being verbally ridiculous, making up stories for my friends, and trying not to pounce the boy who was, for some inexplicable reason, setting off my “WANT” hormones at full blast. At least I finally got up the nerve to tell him how pretty he was, and several hours later he let me bite him. But I kept embarrassing myself because I was so high on pain and over-stimulation that every time he walked by I’d say something stupid. I wish I could figure out what it was about him that made my brain and body decide he was so damn shiny since, although in retrospect it seems to have been a correct assessment, I have no idea where objectively it came from.

Finally, it was time to go and after hugging and smooching on everyone I could find (shiny boy gives excellent full body hugs) I went to say good by to my first play partner of the night and found her chatting with the woman who had straight razored me the evening before. They made it very hard to leave (literally. You can’t go anywhere when someone is holding your hair that tightly. Even over to the other person who is trying to bite you. Those two are a scary scary combination.) until I made it clear that I would see both of them again very soon, and then I headed out for the drive home. Fortunately the combination of hopped up on pain, not having gone to bed before 4:30 a.m. for 3 days in a row, good music, good company, and ghastly coffee meant that I didn’t start to crash until I was so close to home that I could do the rest of the drive in my sleep and I got into the house, threw my clothes on the floor and… slept for all of 4 hours.

I am insane. I am also tired, pleasantly achy, and very very happy. I had a lovely weekend with good friends and tonight when my dog is back home I suspect I will sleep like the dead. Now I need to try and get something done today. First, however I’m going to have to stop pulling down my shirt to stare at my boobs, but it’s hard cause the marks are so pretty. I am a loooooser

My primary rediscovery of this weekend is that it’s a good thing to be in touch with your buttons. If you know what they are, and make a reasonable attempt at expressing them clearly, there is a far better chance that they will be pushed. Repeatedly. With intensely satisfying results.

After this weekend, I feel like I have to annotate the past two weeks of this blog. Among other things, I’ve now had (and enjoyed! Go figure!) vanilla sex with a man (who will henceforth be known as The Defender of Vanilla Sex - TDoVS), and discovered why people like sleeping with their friends. It’s so bizarre, for me, to have had a sexual experience that induced absolutely no stress or regret. It was just fun… and then rather insanely button pushingly hot. Plus, there were interludes of hysterical laughter. I am a big fan of hysterical laughter in the bedroom. As long as no one falls out of the bed, hits a body part on a solid piece of furniture, or gets head bonked in the eye.

I think the lack of stress falls solidly on the openness of communication. It seems obvious that being open and up front about things makes things easier, but it is often extremely difficult for me to do so when it comes to sexual issues. With TDoVS, however, I have absolutely no problems being completely up front since we’ve discussed pretty much everything under the sun. I am going to take this as an object lesson. Before sleeping with someone, I need to have multiple frank conversations about sex so that there is no awkwardness about expressing myself in the heat of the moment. Or at least no awkwardness that isn’t related to my brain having been befuddled by desire.

It was a good weekend for connections. I saw a lot of old friends, made some new friends, had some good play time (which I will talk about in a later post), and now have an official play date for BRXX to hook up with the person in Boston who I had really wanted to try and play with this weekend (who was not the person I did play with this weekend, or the person I rather thought I might get a chance to play with this weekend… or… lets just say that my life so doesn’t suck right now.) I also saw someone who I have half-heartedly been crushing on for a few years, and discovered that the main reason I haven’t even made an attempt to do something about it is essentially invalid. So… there are things to be considered there as well (and no, that person isn’t any of the people from the first sentence. Complex much, life?) All things considered, I rate the entire 3 days an A+. It really should only get an A-, but I’m willfully blocking the several hideous hours I spent on the Trolley From Hell out of my brain in order to reorder the universe to my personal satisfaction.