Thinking over my do’s and don’ts. Thinking over my likes and dislikes.

The idea of ruined orgasm is becoming increasingly appealing to me. Maybe it’s just because of the matter of whose orgasms I want to ruin. Would I like it done to me? Not one bit. Perhaps for me it’s a form of punishment… a form of indirect control… a form of power play or maybe revenge. It’s not exactly a healthy thing to do.

I know that BDSM is about the safe, sane, and consensual. To ruin someone’s orgasm without them knowing it was coming… that’s a bit foul. But somehow I’m also drawn to it. I wonder why.

Then I think back to the look on the face of the mouse the first time I ruined one of his… albeit unintentionally. Maybe that’s what woke up the desire in me. Maybe that’s what planted the seed. Either way, now I want to do that to him… cause him to get that agonized look and that feeling of frustration to fill him. (True, I’m a little upset at him but the urge is strongest in this kind of case.)

Maybe, just maybe, I have a mean streak and just need to learn how to harness it… how to refine it into an art. Like sex, being a good dom takes practice. Being a good top takes time. The desire to make such a pretty face fall… maybe that’s not very good – but it feels delicious to me. It’s intoxicating, addictive, and after only one “hit” of that drug – I’m hungry for the next.


Liquid Courage

I don’t mind a drink now and then. I don’t like the feeling I get when I’m drunk, or the dark place my mind goes after a few stiff drinks. Liquor makes all of my meanness come to the surface and I turn downright ornery. I know some people use a drink now and then and drinking as an excuse for their behavior.

I don’t appreciate when the only time I’m hit on is when the person has their confidence amped up by a drink or two. It’s discouraging and any comments made just sound like they’re horny and insincere… even if they admit that they feel that way sober.

I remember a good friend many years ago drunk dialed me late in the evening and then waxed poetic about my perfectly round ass… and how it made him feel guilty. They were in a relationship and told me they watched “ebony porn” and would get off thinking of how it would be to have fun with that rump of mine. I admit I had a tiny crush on that friend and knew that they were with someone. I wouldn’t make a move unless it was the kind of union where that kind of thing was allowed. Still, it left a little bit of a bad taste in my mouth. They apologized the next morning to say they felt ashamed of themselves and that they felt they’d very much disrespected me. I didn’t care that they found me hot. The matter is that they couldn’t say so otherwise.

Alcohol was an excuse.

That friend long stopped drinking but I do remember the words…

And so I feel quite annoyed over some words that were passed to me last night. He admitted that he thought I looked great during his “day visit”, expressed interest in doing more, talked a little about a quickie during my lunch break (to which I said it would be a terrible tease), and then invited me to go to the shore with him over the weekend.

He was drunk.

I joked a little that I’d take him more seriously after he sobered up a bit if he could still hold that invitation out.

He hasn’t said another word.

Of course I could just be looking at this prematurely. I know before I felt a lot of longing, just wanting to be told I looked good after that whole day of nothing. After dolling up just a teeny bit instead of the full make up of the day before, I wanted to be told I looked good. Even after seeing the mouse that night – he didn’t say a word. Just for me a soft, sloppy kiss and a hello and good bye. I’m not at all impressed. He might talk to me more again tonight regarding this matter but I won’t talk to him seriously unless he shows a shred of courage… of not turning tail under the “pressure”. He hasn’t said a word yet about it though he has said as much as a hello and that he managed to pass out last night.

And I’m back to not expecting much.


“He said he wanted to surprise me.”

It feels strange… and it all feels so bittersweet.

He still looks good I wonder how I appeared to him. Perhaps, slightly bronzed, with my layer of makeup... I joked a bit. His hair was a bit trimmed and a bit wild. There was a thin, short, kind of scraggly mustache. He gained a bit of weight. He still looks good. My heart still trembled.

I looked in a mirror for a moment after he left to put one of my earrings back in. Perhaps, I didn’t look bad at all.

The sight of him felt a little like old times. Nay, it could be said to be exactly like those old times. He came to me for just a moment with a smile, a joke, few words, and then gone again. That soft, oh so sweet tension in the air between us... Perhaps, it was mostly in me. I was the one who kept my eyes fixed on his. That feeling… that intensity… that warmth…

I felt shy, but only a little. He came to my workplace. He said he wanted to surprise me and as such looked around the building for where I would be. He laughed a bit while complaining of walking too much , and I only smiled. I could have teased a bit because he claims to bike to and from work on a near daily basis.

A smile and a wave, and just like old times, a pen is pulled out to write as soon as he is out of sight. I would always start writing as soon as he said good bye. Maybe he’s a little bit of a muse for me.

He came looking for me… maybe to be polite, maybe feeling a little shy in and of himself. A little awkward but still an exciting feeling, still a warm feeling. A certain charm… perhaps… perhaps… Perhaps, both of us holding our own charm in the end...

And honestly, I felt a bit happy to see him if only for that brief moment. I fantasize too much. I could possibly hope for too much. I did stop myself from running to him at the sight. I stopped myself from the joyful calling of his name. I stopped myself from getting up at all to reach around and hold him close. I felt the urge. Then remembered how I was thought to be intense. We are distant. We aren’t deep friends, but there is indeed an attraction there even with the incompatibility.

Burning… explosive... I wonder what it could have been…

And still, he seems to have this power to make me feel both big and small all that the same time. In his gaze, so many emotions can stir up, oh so quickly… I feel brave, bold, and timid.

I still feel beautiful. I know I still am. I still have my smile and my own inner brilliance. Yet, even as hopeless as it might be, I wonder if he saw that. I wonder if he feels the same. I wouldn’t try to push the issue too much, not now at least. We still have our own paths to walk and I wonder a little if he’ll once again cross mine.

It’s possible that I’m not just more into women than men these days – but more drawing away from the man that is the mouse. Or maybe it is just the soul of a person that draws me most and more are pushing me away than pulling near.



I feel it deep within me… this kind of grumble… a kind of prowling feeling with the want to extend my claws… sink in my teeth…
I feel it deep within me and wonder if it’s a 2nd Chakra thing (I did some self “work” last night with a carnelian egg… and whenever I do – I get this feeling afterwards).

I wonder if it’s because Mr. L is back in town.

For those who do not know – he is a close as I am to a friend from college or a friend from out of town. We worked together for a while during a time we were both seeing other people. We always had smiles between us and I think also some degree of sexual tension. I crushed on him HARD and I’m pretty sure that showed too. So he told me last night that he’s in town for some fraternity affair and I can’t help but feel that old flutter bubble up again… I have that “secret smile” again… and I remember how he told me once upon a time that I was a bit intense. Maybe I was. Maybe I just didn’t know what in the world to do with myself around him… or forgot what good boundaries were.

My boundaries were kind of a wreck at the time and I think it would be clear to say that I was going through a bit of a big change in myself and my world views. Rather, a change in my approach to the world outside my body.

I dressed up a little bit, even though I know he might not come by at all. I put on a little lipstick and foundation, even though I know I might get “ditched” . But the whole thing was about getting a bit sexy for work. That’s all. He mentioned perhaps coming by for lunch and I don’t think he’ll follow through, but even so I got a little dolled. I expect nothing… but yet… I put on the soft teal smoked out eyeshadow and a bit of shimmer. My lips are chocolate… and I have a sore throat. I expect very little but it would be nice to hear something from him or see him again at some point.

It would be nice.

There’s something about that guy that makes me melt a little inside. Something about the way he smells and stands that makes me boil in the blood. Something about his confidence and attitude and just plain dorkyness that makes me want to scream. His scent, as some woman I respect and adore once said, makes something in my mind snap “Ungabunga!” And I squeal a little in primitive delight. I could run my nose along the inside of his arms and smell him all day. There’s the fact that I’ve made him drip precum through his underwear and a pair of jeans. THAT in itself turns me on and brings up my pervert smile. (That’s one of my favorite things, after all.)

I think of fire.



I’m in the mood for some deep, painful, catharsis inducing play. The kind of play that’s so intense that I can’t even fairly call it play… but it still is. I want to get in my skin… have the tears beat out of me because I’m too proud or too stubborn to let them out on my own. I want to open up and unravel. The question then becomes who to share this with.

There’s only so much you can do by yourself even with going into a meditative, trance state. There’s only so far one can go without a guide. Perhaps it’s possible to go farther than I think and I’m just scared to go alone… or that I know that I need someone to reel me in now and then to make sure I haven’t passed out or fallen asleep.

I can fall into a fantasy with the right stimuli but I can get jerked out rather abruptly as well. Maybe a “playmate” just to help keep the scene going and enjoyment flowing.

It could be a basic incompatibility nagging at me… a love for lingerie that isn’t shared… or similarly a love for lots of foreplay.


Call me _______

The conventional top titles don’t seem to suit me. I’ve thought of myself as “Mistress” once upon a time, but now it seems so strange to hear. It doesn’t fit. I don’t feel so much like “Miss” or a “Mam”. I don’t feel like a “Master” or “Sir”. To say “Goddess” feels like blasphemy and “Queen” or “Princess” feel too girly.

“Princess” seems to lean towards age play to me… perhaps my own prejudice.

“Majesty” sounds interesting but also odd to my ear.

Am I the one who shall not be named? Perhaps.

It’s just strange to me. To hear a name that doesn’t fit jars me out of a scene… it becomes an act and I become disconnected. It’s not to say I don’t enjoy what I’m doing at the time. It just births a kind of dissonance that takes a while to fix.


Sliding People

The words came to me while I walked up the stairs to my workplace…

Perhaps the people in my life are like sliding puzzles. The picture of my relationships changes. Their roles in my life shift, slide, rearrange. They get scrambled and with it – so do I. But sometimes they all fall into place… they all start to almost feel just right. I reach a level of calm balance (or at least as close to it as it can get).

The strange thing is that once I start getting into a calm, once zen starts to overtake my being, the worlds of others begin to rock and with it they seem to start trying to make me shift them into places that they no longer “fit”.

Then the sliding begins once more… with me gradually easing those people out of my life for a while.

I never really liked sliding puzzles.


On Edge

I’m into seduction and sensation. For my kind of topping – I’ve got to have seduction mingled in… the use of my sensuality to take the mind and body as “my own.” I enjoy whipping people into a lather even though I don’t do it often. This reminds me of how an old companion of mine fussed about how much of a tease I was and the certain delight I get from seeing precum and vulva growing wet.

I know I’ve got some dark depths… maybe not as dark as others or maybe I simply don’t realize how deep they run. I know I’ve got that place mentally where my fantasies turn to kiss the macabre. There’s the point where the safe and sane goes out the window in my mind even though they do not involve death. There’s a part of me that gets violent even though I don’t visit it perhaps for the fear of myself it induces.

There’s a part of me that’s a little violent and I guess it could be said that edge play works as much for the person on top as they do on the bottom… seeing how close one can get to madness… seeing how close one can teeter on an ever growing adrenaline rush.

A friend of mine mentioned before that they’re very much into knife play… though said as subtly as I pet them “If you think this is a big reaction from me, you should see what a blade does.” … or something like that. (This conversation was some time ago and my mind a bit fuzzy and frazzled to begin with). And so somehow last night turned into me trimming them down and then running the blade of a pair of scissors and Swiss-army knife along their flesh until they whimpered… tracing the point along their genitals and nipples... and they seemed to be in an interesting place between arousal and nervousness…

They managed to give themselves an orgasm after all was done and seemed quite content to calling me mistress… though the title feels odd coming out of their lips. Or it could just be that I’m the strange one.



Maybe I'm just a terrible liar... maybe I'm just tense about everything going on. My stomach is turning. I'm nauseous... and I want to stab something. I get the feeling needle felting will be invaluable to me over the next couple days.

Frustrated... and it's almost like he's trying to make other people happy... feels like bed hopping... and I feel ill. There's a line in my head that keeps coming up. "You've killed us all." Trying to not bite off my tongue... Trying to keep back any tears that might be bubbling up...

It always happens when I'm about to PMS. It always happens post ovulation. The time when I'm more likely to snap and argue and hate everything and everybody... Yeah... needle felting would be really helpful over the next few days... I've still got a bag of roving... I'm not sure how much but I think it's a couple pounds.

I feel sick... and a little angry too considering my last visit. Own my emotions. Trying to do that best I can. Using that "I" language instead of "you" ... Trying to not veil my "you's" in "I" ... Scrambled there isn't it. Expressing without blame. That's something to try. Something I'm attempting to get a better fix on.

So to try and fix my words now...
I felt hurt and left alone in bed that night I went to spend with him.
I felt discarded when he "promised" that there would be more than just a quickie... flirted all night... and then bailed due to no longer having any sexual urgency or simply "spent."
I felt stupid and used waiting for him to come to bed for over an hour if only just to cuddle while he played video games instead.

Opps... there's that "you" speak again... or it's that slippery line.

I am pretty angry about it. Even though it's all just "starting"... I'm tired about being right about his "wrong" choices. I'm tired of getting flak for voicing concerns and saying what I think. Maybe I just lack tact... maybe I'm crazy. Maybe it sounds mean - but I really don't think so.

I don't want to handle him with kid-gloves with my emotions.

Sure, feel a little sorry for him when his dates get broken - but maybe not as much as if I weren't "right" about the people. I guess it could be said that my judgment calls regarding others is a good thing… I keep myself out of trouble and make people pissed off at me when I voice my thoughts. Twitterpated? Yeah. That’s him… always jumping in and trusting so openly others with his everythings. What’s a me to do? Sure, I could just let him be… but it could be my mind is already making the switch away from calling him my “mate” in the way others might. Close friend I may have sex with from time to time. I don’t know how much I can trust him with my full self because he doesn’t seem to know what to do with that knowledge… he doesn’t seem to be able to handle that which is me.

He’s going away for his first “overnight” trip since we started dating. I’m not exactly happy about it but I’m letting him be. I’ll try to not be bitter about not having trips of my own at the moment.


Possible Entering Ends

I’ve a terrible sick feeling in the pit of my stomach but at the same time, I’m preparing for the worst or the end. The mouse and I had a bit of a blow out last night… or he had a meltdown. Part of me thinks he’s grieving a “lost chance.” Part of me screams he’s looking for a way out even though he doesn’t seem to want to. He says things like “I’m not cut out for this.”… things like “You deserve better.” It’s a matter of his heart… a matter of his self esteem…

I’m trying… and for every suggestion that I give of things that would help me feel better… secure… he pulls away from… he resists… He says I’m gate keeping by asking for information. I’m “rejecting” by saying I want to use condoms if he’s with other people. Fluid bonding is a major thing for me on a spiritual level… he thinks very little of it. With that broken it could be that I have little heart to want to rebuild it. Then again, we’ve not gotten to that point.

He’s fixated on “it’s over.” I’m letting go… but mostly because I think I might need to distance myself from him for a little while… not hold on so tightly… let him be as he is and see how things become.

It’s scary.
This jumping without a net, cord, or parachute…
It’s scary to wonder what will be… To know right now there IS NO SECURITY.
It’s frightening to know that even though I say I’m committed to him, I’m not so sure it’ll be returned.

I know things are changing. Things change every moment. It’s not the change that frightens me but the possible end… but at the same time, I’m ready.


“So, I’ve got a terrible habit of killing vibrators…”

I kill vibrators.

It seems that’s the way it works. I get some delightful buzzy toy that’s egg shaped or wand shaped and then it dies on me. Usually the cord frays or the battery explodes inside. It can snap in two or get bad cracks if made of jelly. It can start to seep. Either that or it just doesn’t feel good to me and I consider it “dead” to me. (and at that point it stays hidden away somewhere to be forgotten or I give it away.)

It’s possible that I simply haven’t put down enough money for quality toys. Once upon a time I received an Ultime by Natural Contours by way of a sex toy exchange I tried to organize. (What a delight to give the gift of an orgasm, no?) If I remember correctly, the limit was 30 dollars for a toy. The Ultime was approximately $25 at the time and I felt like it was such a splurge. It never got much use but it was and is a wonderful toy if I may say so. It’s possible that I came close to busting it just for awkwardly trying to switch the speeds. I thank it for my first squirting orgasm.

The bulk of my sex toy purchases in the past have gone into dildos. (The pump set might skew my calculations a bit for recent buys - but the dildo collection wins hands down in term of cash spent.) No vibe I’ve ever bought cost more than $30. Perhaps I just couldn’t justify it.

That changed a little in buying a Lelo Mia. In part, I want to call it a luxury toy, but I also wanted to see if the quality would be that much different from my usual “bargain” vibes.

In terms of specs, the Mia is approximately 4 inches long and about the girth of a large tube of lipstick. Stats say she has a 90 day battery retention time and a body made of a mix of hard silicone and plastic. She’s also USB rechargeable.

In use – she has a delightful buzz and four modes. The first and default is a continuous vibration with increasing speeds. The other three modes are different types of pulsing buzzes. Perhaps I’m just terribly awkward with my masturbation techniques but after my first use – it seems most annoying that the usb cap loosens and starts to come off when I’m using the toy. Maybe it is that I just use too much lube or an odd kind of force. She’s not the type to just lay down against my labia – however. This is the kind of toy I need to rub up and down my clitoral shaft to get the best sensation. I wouldn’t consider insertion an option because the controls are right on the side of the tiny body and also that “slipping cap” matter.

Would I recommend her to a friend? Yes. I think I would. Then again, I’m not sure how many of my friends like vibrators. I’d recommend the Ultime if I remembered just what she felt like too. I guess this is a sign that I need to go through all of my toys and have lots of orgasms.



I think pumping is one of the things that make me want to take pictures of myself. It’s a bit of an amazing experience. True, it can be a little annoying to try and adjust the things… to get a good seal… but it feels wonderful. It’s the kind of thing a guy or gal could easily get addicted to. At least, I think that.

A little over a month ago I purchased some cylinders and a pump kit called the “Clit Enhancement System” from one of my favorite stores. The pump mechanism itself leaves a little to be desired and it feels rather flimsy. The feeling it leaves, however, a delight.

I’ve been told I have a “large” clit by the mouse. Nobody else has ever given me some kind of size comparison. I wouldn’t know how I compare but it certainly is easy to find.

At the moment I have 1 small cylinder, 3 medium sized ones, and one large one. Surprisingly, the medium sized one doesn’t get a good seal on my clit and even hurts a little bit to try and press it against my labia. That’s just the right size for fat nipples. I might invest in two more of the small ones for the sake of elongating. I imagine they would stretch more under the pressure vs just sucking in half of my areolas along with the nipple.

They do look deliciously suckable afterwards. I wonder if my mouse would appreciate such a thing. They feel wonderful after a nice pumping as well. The sensation is some mixture of soft, warm, and full. Thinking about it actually makes my pussy water a bit.

(Or maybe I just need to have enough time and privacy to get myself off until I’m shaking. I don’t think I’ve had enough orgasms for my liking lately. I’m sure I could find a volunteer to help but it’s also likely that I’m underwhelmed by the performance of most these days… )

As of now, it’s one of my favorite grownup toys… if only I had enough time and privacy to play with it more.


Things I Must Remember

There are other people in this big wide world. I’m not alone. I’m not the only sort of shy but actually guarded woman out there. I’m not the only person who loves toy play. I’m not the only person with leanings towards BDSM and a love for ANR.

I’m not alone.

I have to remember that. Even though the mouse is sometimes really good for me and others a pain… even though I love him and question loving him when my mind decides to leave me. I’m not alone in this world. I’m not a unicorn. I can make friends. I just have to get up the bravery to actually meet them… to actually speak to them.

I have to remember that I’m beautiful, smart, and an all around good person even if I have a mean streak. I’m not a bad person for wanting to “ruin” someone’s orgasm, or to tease them until they can barely think straight. I’m not a bad person to blue ball a guy with the promise of more later… even when I don’t know when later will be.

I’m not alone.

There’s a world of people out there that I can meet… a world that I can talk to. Maybe I won’t like most of them. Maybe I’ll like very few of them. I won’t know until I try. For that – I HAVE to try.

Having my own driver’s license would open up so many doors…
I guess time to start studying again.


“If I said I missed you, would you believe me?”

Perhaps I’ll take on a title like “The Boredom of the Cat.” I’m filled with a bit of unease… fuss… unsettled emotions… and I know that as I write there isn’t anybody who is truly listening. There is my blog but I don’t exactly have readers… or it feels as such. I don’t write often anyway but that’s something that might change in the near future.

Thinking of Anna Nalick’s “Breathe (2 am) and wanting to listen to it… wanting to sing and scream it out because it feels true. Well, mostly the third stanza. These words are kind of just bursting forth when I need to release. They’re let out so I don’t explode in the emotions even if they come out sounding a bit dry… powdered to dust.

And then I think of the young man I crushed on for three years, maybe more. I think of the boyfriend of six years that I say so casually “It was nice then – oh well.” Everyone has their issues and these two had plenty. But of the crush I called so affectionately and secretly “L”, he struck a fire in me like no one else.
Maybe that’s what fire signs do to one another…
Of the boyfriend of years who I left when I felt no longer myself and more sadness than any other emotion in his presence, he struck a fire in me too.
Maybe that’s what fire signs do… to one another.

Of the lovers and near lovers I’ve had before… they are all so many things the mouse is not… and perhaps that’s something that’s pushing me away. I’m no longer excited. I’m no longer as attracted and his actions are doing more repelling than drawing in. They say you know when someone is no longer right for you when you start feeling that way... thinking more about their fit to you than yours to them. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I do know that I miss having a confident lover… someone who’s truly confident and self assured and not just putting up a mask. I can understand and except sharing the moments of weakness, but when those times are more often than not...

I don’t know.

It wears on me and I don’t want to be a mother to a grown man. I don’t want to be a lover to someone who’s still an emotional child. (A childlike spirit is different from an emotional child. I’m sure you all know the difference.)

Perhaps this part of his character is really what is repelling me… not the people he wants to sleep with. Perhaps not.


About the Cat

queer, feminist, pagan, daughter, lover, neurotic, NSFW, artist, pro-choice, childfree, dreamer

I am not the sum of the labels applied to me.
I am more than a list of kinks that turn me on.
There is more to me than I may ever write down here.

Perhaps, the best way to get to know someone is through their words and actually conversing with them. However, I’m a bit antisocial and perhaps even a little standoffish around strangers so my blog and this little intro may have to do.

Without completely retelling my life story …
I was born with brown skin and a vagina in December of 1981 deep in the urban wilds of New Jersey.
I have a job but no beloved career. I don’t drive and get around by way of public transport.
My hobbies involve some form of arts & crafts. I like exercise, love food, and don’t watch much television.

My drive its own animal.

I’ve been partnered to a young man (who I refer herein as “Mouse”) since early 2006. We currently live apart. Admittedly, many of my posts here involve him in some degree. It is my belief that one’s sexuality and those they share it with are closely linked.

I’m learning ethical nonmonogamy in the eyes of opening a long closed relationship (rather than starting single). I’m polyaffectionate yet mildly misanthropic. I’m fiercely protective of those I come to love with a tendency to lean towards jealousy.

I’m growing into my skin and still coming to terms with the fact my life, loves, and wants fly in the face of my upbringing. Perhaps, I’m really bursting at the seams and these words are just an expression of my growing pains.

I write about love, lust, longing, and limerence.

I write about other things too, but they don’t always see the light of this blog.
If you haven’t noticed, I ramble.

My posts are signed “SB” and I may or may not answer to “cat” if called.

Thank you for your visit.


Opening Up

The mouse and I have been having a lot of issues lately and it all centers around his "polyamory that isn't polyamory." Or at least that's what he calls it. I say it's not wanting to settle down... or not wanting to be stuck with one person... or maybe just it being completely natural to have sexual relations with people he cares about. Maybe it's part of his past showing itself now. I don't think he ever saw a professional psychiatrist for his issues. Maybe it's just him trying to reclaim his sexuality or express what he thinks his entails. I'm certainly not one to talk. I think the very first entry of this blog I wrote that I'd do very "filthy and kinky" things to some of my closest friends if they'd let me. I've had sexual trauma but I wouldn't say that's the reason. I just like sensation.

There have been a lot of issues and fights lately because he wants more than just a threesome on occasion. I wouldn't mind a threesome now and then... or even a foursome. I've operated mostly on the wavelength of "play together or not at all." It still makes me feel a bit sick to my stomach and it's possible that there's a part of me that's just "dealing" with it by gradually locking him out of my heart... by letting go and letting him do his thing as I start to go off and do my own. Serial monogamy doesn't suit me well even though it seems I do just that. Or maybe I've been expressing a sexless sort of poly all this time. I still talk and flirt with my ex in the form of loose talk. I've always talked sex. I live, eat, and breathe the stuff. Bad sex equals and unhappy me and I thrive on fantasy. I haven't been with anybody else but him, however. The last open relationship I had was at its tail end and was falling apart.
I don't want THIS relationship to fall apart. I'm trying to keep the lines of communication open even though he sometimes seems to take it so personally.
Mercury in retrograde. We're actually having clearer conversations.

I worry a little that we're falling apart and this will be the nail in the coffin. They say that jealousy comes from insecurity. I've had so much of that lately. I've had so much fear and worry and tinges of broken trust. I've felt betrayed because of some of his actions being taken thoughtlessly. But I'm not staying with him for sex. Far from it. The sex could very well be better elsewhere. It could be kinkier and wetter and overall better executed. There could be someone out there who can push all of my buttons in ways he's only succeeded to graze.

I still have buttons and limits that I'd like to push and explore. For him, it's mostly about being close to friends and doing the things that I don't care for very much (like rimming... though he does make delightful moans when I do.)

There's a brightness to his tone and words when I talk about the hypothetical me with other people. I don't think I'd be having sex with anybody else. True, I'm a bit for play and flirting... There's the gang bang fantasy that I probably wouldn't pursue because I'm a germaphobe and do not want to worry about what diseases other people might be carrying. (Let's not forget my gigantic trust issues.) For him to be outside terrifies me... but I trust he'd at least tell me first...
I trust that he'd keep it limited to a small circle. We did make some general rules/terms. I figured they were pretty clear. The basic was being safe and not being with anybody who wasn't tested... and condoms if. My trust issues have concerns on their levels of full disclosure. I'd still refrain from intercourse with others... I told him that I'd be up to using condoms at my discretion for my own piece of mind and general comfort. He agreed to thinking it reasonable to test every few months. I guess it's just up to picking some sort of schedule.

There's a brightness to his tone when I bring it up... a sort of "see, you can have fun too." But, I'm not going out looking for fun. Maybe it's just me trying to breathe. Maybe it's just trying to survive with my heart in tact...

That wouldn't be a very healthy way of coping... it wouldn't be a healthy way of keeping the relationship going.

He says simply that he's okay as long as I'm "safe". (though his safe is a bit more loose than mine... hence the divide and a bit of his sulking over having to use condoms if he does have sex with the "unapproved by girlfriend."... But he understands he says.) He says he's okay as long as I love him most. That's one of the ones you can't really dictate. You can't quantify love. Do I love anybody else more than him? Yes. Myself. I'm selfish and my happiness means a great deal to me. I do most things with that in mind.

It's all a new situation... I based my rules for him more on being fully informed of the who, and when before hand. I don't care so much in terms of the what as long as it's safe. I don't care as long as it's not someone he lives with. My rules are more things that foster dialogue and union than anything else.

I don't want to be left out.
It boils out to that.


Expanding the Toybox

I just might have a little bit of a toy fetish/collecting problem. I love trying new things. I like new textures. I LOVE ORGASMS! So, in line with that, I like trying new things. If I had more space, I’m sure I’d have quite the toybox. Maybe I’d even have some sort of toy room.

There’s a mental list of things I’d like to get one day. Included are a nice set of floggers and pumping gear. Some items on the Liberator line of furniture would be a delight in soft suede. I’d get a Sybian and maybe some power tools. Perhaps I’d have a glass display case or a case with glass doors well lighted to keep my various items in… or at least some glass and metal pieces.

I think on this list would also be some toys from vendors like Bad Dragon and Zetatoys. There are some interesting shapes in the animal kingdom that make my mouth water if only for wondering what the size, shape, and texture would bring. This is a realm of fantasy.
I am not a beastialist and would not have sex with a non human. That seriously crosses my ethical lines.
Werewolf and beastman fantasies don’t count… and they are just that – fantasies. I’d totally shag a werewolf.

Perhaps, I’d also throw some electrosex items into the mix with some harnesses and a healthy supply of “soft” bondage items. I don’t mind the tingle of a TENS unit but it can easily be too much for me to take. One slip and it changes from a pleasurable buzz to a bite that causes curses to spring forth as I look for the dial.



I’m not exactly sure if I’ve mentioned it before, but I’m a fan of having at least some of my pubic hair intact. I like there to be some hair on whomever it is that I’m fooling around with at the time as well. I don’t have a hair fetish (I think). I like the hair to be groomed over it being incredibly wild. At the same time, while I like the way my lips feel when completely hairless – it’s not a preferred state. No hair feels juvenile.

True, I think my lips also look amazing and puffy. I’d get to see the full size of my clit if the hair is gone. Any fabric against my body can give either an annoyance or a near instant thrill with every movement depending on what it’s made of. But I don’t like being bald. The hair grows back itchy. I get ingrowns and pimples running rampant all over my crotch. PEE GOES EVERYWHERE! (Usually any tuft on my labia wicks the hair away in a stream but without it it’s like a high pressure hose going off without a nozzle.) High pressure spray and splatter… not fun… It gets on my legs.

Sure, I could use an aid or a functional packer (though I don’t pack…) It’s money I don’t have. Sure I could just drink less water to pee less… but I’m trying to live healthier here.

The hair adds “fluff”, as one of the Vagina Monologues said. Add to this that sex is a little painful when the other person isn’t hairless or full of prickly stubble. Those aren’t fun.

There’s the fact that the mouse doesn’t particularly care for pubic hair either. The first time he saw me waxed, he said it was the sexiest thing he ever saw. Then he dove in. I don’t get very many oral delights when I’m not shaved and he seems to express some trepidation in the act. (“But I love oral”). If I’m hairless he’s like a pig in slop… with about that much attention to what he’s doing or technique.


Unexpected Revelations

It’s not that I don’t think people I know are kinky. It’s a bit of a surprise, however, to hear them talk about their kinks or find them on certain kinky websites. The very fact that I see them and all the things they’re into is like throwing a rift into reality. The result is a sort of mind bending akin to finding your parent’s sex toys.

It feels odd to find out that people you know are into the same kind of deviance as you are… however fun it is to indulge in. It’s weird and bizarre and strange… but it’s true as much as you are into those things and they might react in a similar way.

Finding out someone you know also wants to lactate one day without having any children…
That someone you know is secretly fantasizing about you dominating them…
That someone out there you know is into the kind of kinks that make your blood crawl and curdle… sometimes in the good way and others in a way that can arouse fight or flight.
There’s finding out you know swingers, spankers, and prolific suckers hiding behind masks of the “mundane”.

It’s strange to me but at the same time all too real.

And then comes the temptation to run with this new found knowledge and see where it takes you.


Maybe A Little Bit of A Mean Streak

I sat on the bus home tonight and a small smile crept across my face with the idea of ruining the mouse’s orgasm as a form of punishment. I’m sure it’s been done before. It’s possible that the use of a ruined orgasm has been utilized to put someone back in their “place”. However, I can’t help but think that it could backfire on me just as easily.

I thought of taping/typing his wrists to his shoulders… or maybe binding his arms near the elbow at a bend. He’d be able to move his arms up and down to get more comfortable but not be able to get himself off while I have my way with him and then ruin his orgasm. I’d tease him for a long time then leave him alone. Blue balling wouldn’t be the goal but more a gentle punishment. To give so much pleasure and then stop it suddenly at the peak… to make him ejaculate with an almost anguished dribble... Maybe it’s a bit mean of me but a smile curls onto my lips even now considering that.

Of course, that might be just a beginning…

I think I remember ruining an orgasm before for him though not on purpose. I was riding him. I remember the fishlike gasps he made while pleading for me to wait and slow down. Maybe he wanted to go longer. Maybe, I milked the cum out of him. The expression was priceless, however.

I want to see that face again.


Subtle Declarations of Pride

I like my jewelry very delicate and silver. I like hints of bright color in my eye makeup. I wear neutral colors.
A pride flag in its full saturated glory just would not go with my style. It just wouldn’t.

True, I personally identify myself as Queer but at the same time will tell people I’ve met that I’m Bisexual. My sense of interest in others in terms of sexual attraction is quite fluid. I don’t care if someone has a penis or a vagina as long as it’s not leaking pus or bleeding. So how do I reflect my colors… as it were…?

I love the pink/purple/blue of the bi-flag and have been trying to think of ways to work it into my everyday look. Earrings are hard to find or a bit clunky and loud if I do. The rainbow is everywhere but the Bi flag a bit more of a challenge. I still want it to be out there. I want to display without it being gaudy or clashing.

A possible solution has been found in sheer glitter nail polish. I have five fingers on each hand. Pink on the thumb, blue on the pinky, and somewhere in the middle depending on how I’m feeling that day. It’s fluid. It’s subtle. It could also be considered an advertisement of my particular mood if someone knows what to look for.

How would ANYBODY know what to look for?


On (Lacking) Happy Sex

Maybe it’s a little silly the way it hit me this afternoon on the way to work. I’ve said before that I’m severely lacking lately in the sex department and that one of my favorite things to do is have “happy sex”. (ok, maybe I haven’t said it outright before in this blog but that is the case personally.” Then the words flashed in my mind, “You can’t have happy sex if you’re not happy with yourself, your partner, or the sex.”

Pretty obvious, isn’t it?

I can have quite satisfying orgasms all on my own if I have enough time to relax and unwind. I had two this morning after about 45 minutes of play. Even now I’m feeling a bit horny but I feel a cringe at the thought of doing so with my boyfriend. Gee, I wonder why.

We had a bit of an argument last night after I admitted that while I still have some desire for him, I feel guarded around him as well (considering some of his reactions to what I want in the moment and some distance considering some of his behavior with others.) It’s a downward spiral, really. I try to protect my feelings with intimacy because he reacts badly to the things that really turn me on (or is for the most part disappointing with his performance.) He pulls away because I’m so “distant” while protecting myself and turns his attention elsewhere. I close up more because he’s looking elsewhere. It’s a bit unnatural to expect someone to open up completely when the trust is damaged and the feeling of safety is gone.

The respect is possibly melting away as well. I have a lean towards the new age and metaphysical. If I share some ideas with him or readings he complains instead of seeing what it is he can draw from it. He complains that doing more than what feels like a cursory touch to see if the pool is warm is “too much work.” Some of his talk at times drips with the tone of anything more than his pleasure being too much work. His actions in the bedroom do the same. He doesn’t listen or act on the answer when he asks “What can I do?” He takes offense to me taking care of things myself with toys or the idea of bringing them into the bedroom. It doesn’t have to be kinky but it would help if it was enjoyable and satisfying. It would help if it didn’t feel like acting or a chore.

It would help if it didn’t matter when I said I didn’t feel like it… if it wasn’t taken as an attack on his masculinity or his sexual prowess. The pouting kills me. It’s poisonous.

I found an article not long ago and the words ring so true in my ears it almost hurts.
The LEAST interesting thing in the world to [some people] is a [significant other] who doesn't understand how to be a lover. A [person] mostly says "No" to a [S/O] who isn't a lover. Conversely, a [person] says "Yes"...A LOT...to a [S/O] who IS a lover. In fact, a [partner] will frequently ask [zher mate] for sex IF [they’re] a lover.
- Calle Zorro
(Yes, I make things awkward with blockquotes and trying to make things gender neutral.) Then I think he’s made himself less and less of a lover to me through his actions. He’s still a friend. He’s still someone I care about in my mixture of love/hatebutreallylove. But, is he still my lover?

It isn’t that I’ve grown bored with what people call “vanilla sex”. I’ve just grown tired of HIS particular form of unsatisfying “vanilla”. Done right, bare bones no frills sex is great. I’m sure nobody would argue with that.


Somewhere Between Self-Expression and Self Mutilation

I’ve been considering reopening my ear piercings and getting some new “holes installed”. My body is prone to keloids. Getting a new piercing would likely result in keloids. This, I do not like.

I don’t there has been a time that I haven’t thought about getting my nipples, labia, or clit pierced. I like the look of slightly gauged tunnels and thick, flat studs. I enjoy a subtle shine and shimmer. Then I discovered that I keloid. From a simple ear piercing I had a growth removed twice. I discovered induced lactation. Piercings can interfere with that.

And then my mind plays with the idea of play piercing. It’s not as messy or bloody as knife play. Nope, not as much risk of slicing open a vein if you’re only gently pricking the surface of the skin… And, then I question, “why?”… I don’t like getting needle sticks at all! When I think of it SERIOUSLY, I recoil in a sort of “Oh NO!” and retreat. I don’t like needles. I like the look of some healed piercings. But I don’t like needles.
So am I thinking of sticking implements into my flesh because of depression run rampant or anger? Is this just another phase of self destruction like my first “serious” boyfriend? Am I just feeling rebellious and outlandish?

I think it may be time for some more soul searching. I’m not so impulsive as to do such exciting things as chop off my hair or get a tattoo.


Looking for Fireworks

I borrowed my friend's husky for a 4.5 mile walk last night. It was in the mid 90's in regards to temperature and I think that I may have tired the pup out... (or he was just as hot as I was by the time I got back). I may have needed the walk as much as he did. While I asked the mouse to come along with me, I'm kind glad he didn't. A dog doesn't complain about a nice walk/run. A dog doesn't fuss because there are "too many bugs." True, they let you know in their own way when they've had enough but usually they're happy for the run.

Looking for fireworks helped me clear my head.
There weren't many but I was fine with that. I needed the air. I needed the space.

I've been feeling rather asexual lately (along with a bit unsexy and a tad antisocial.) The mouse looks as good as he ever did but I don't feel attracted to him. Maybe, it's a bit of reevaluating my emotions but right now not feeling very in love with him either. There's a bit of attachment still there and it's possible it's all the aftermath of an argument that hasn't completely faded away.

This is not the sex life I wanted.
This is not the sex life I want.
This is not the sex life I want to continue to have.

Maybe it was a little bit of wanting some closeness... It's possible it was also seeing if I could excite myself into the moment. It all ended up being a rather "fake" and unstimulating threeway. Quite a jump, right? The guys seemed to certainly enjoy themselves, however. I feel a little antsy and more unwilling to have any form of sexual intercourse with my mate now. Something about how he carries himself gives off the vibe of being an opportunist only there for the moment.

"This is what you wanted, wasn't it?" "You liked it, didn't you?" "You didn't do it half hearted, did you?"
And me the liar.

A rub… being discovered in the act and the mutual friend of ours cuddling into the moment... The mouse put me on the spot saying that I didn't feel attractive lately. As if the approval of someone else is enough to make one feel better or more attractive. It was almost enough to make me want to stop. "She's crazy." Right... something to say to someone sucking your dick. Something to say because you're too shy to say what you want on your own... I paused and the friend dozed for a moment. Only a moment passed and then they gently started nudging their genitals in my line of sight and hand as I kept sucking off my boyfriend. I pet to the leg... a rub... a nudge... I put my hand over with a pause without touching and he pressed against my palm. And then the boredom on my part started. They certainly seemed to enjoy it. They both orgasmed rather quickly. The mouse was calling me almost with pleading by a pet name as I made him twitch. The friend under a blush and gasp while sucking my breasts idly and being worked on my mouse.

I'm sure it sounded hot - but it wasn't. It was the most pedestrian moment I've had in a while... and I hated it. For me it was almost painfully boring and totally unstimulating. This is what happens when your mind isn't in it.

I washed the sheets and pillow cases after all was done and the friend's underwear because they didn't have a spare pair with them.

Feeling less sexy than ever... and that's not a good thing.
Shutting down...


Comfort in Acting Out

Maybe it’s the after effects of the weekend, but I’m feeling energized and far too playful for my own good. Maybe my flirty side is back out to play. Maybe it was from having the chance to be a bit bawdy among friends. Maybe it was the hot kiss from the mouse on the way home last night. I feel good and I feel full of mischief.

Maybe it’s because I walked a friend of mine around the neighborhood on a leash. (well , it wasn’t MY neighborhood… it wasn’t his either.) We were on the search for an ATM and while I gave him back his lead when we walked into stores – out of doors I kept it short and walked in front of him while he carried the bags. It felt completely natural.

I’m clumsy, awkward, and say horrible things in a sexy voice. If I pose I look rather dopey in pictures, and any attempted photo shoot ends up with people laughing and a lot of BAD pictures. I can’t play up sexy spontaneously. And yet, when I’m in the mood I’m told I’ve a sensual smolder and make people melt.

And so I walked a friend around the neighborhood and people stared. There was nothing sexual about it. I just held on, held close, and we talked about random things in the summer heat. It kinda felt like “home”.


Little Not-So-Little Rejections

My heart hurts… and the more I think about the situation, the more it pains me. All the more I feel a bit of anger bubble up the more I consider it as well.

Maybe it’s selfish of me to think of such… or maybe it’s once again feeling shot down before having a chance to start.

Maybe it’s hearing for so long that he’d be willing to try certain things to see if he liked them and then on attempting he shuts down that annoys.

Looking back on last night the first thing that comes to mind is “Isn’t this complete and utter bullshit.” And then I’m expected to coddle his ego? And then he sulks after I tell him exactly what it is I want and for once am not so vague about it. And then has the nerve to say I “owe him” sex because apparently, I killed his erection and ruined his mood.

“I’m not a sub.”
I never asked him to be.

I wonder if he feels pressured or threatened by a forward woman… or if he feels threatened by ME being direct in a more dominant kind of way. Maybe it was that I pushed back in the moment and made it more my own… something I’d enjoy more… versus just letting him do whatever he wanted.

Maybe, it all came out as sort of psychological self-defense. I started out with no interest in sex whatsoever. It was really more of a playful and teasing mood to be honest. He was doing a terrible job of trying to seduce and was more clumsily rubbing his hands on me and trying to maneuver me around. In all honestly, it was more annoying than anything else. There was a bit of panic as he lifted me up and threw me onto his bed. He climbed over, said he washed his hands, and pulled off my pants as I asked only for him to slow down.

A few moments of just laying there… attempting meditation… and a snap in my mind. “Fuck this shit!”

Simple directions of “suck my clit”, “fuck me with your tongue”, “lick harder” “softer”, “higher” out of my lips with moans while holding the back of his head now and then. I thrust my hips against his face with a bit of grinding. Some simple praise of “good boy” was uttered. Twas making the moment my own with a bit of play so I could enjoy it.

“Feeling forceful?” he asked.

“You didn’t pause to ask if I wanted it. I just told you how to give it to me. Just showing you your place… Now, get back down there.”

With those words his erection was lost. His pouting began.

His eyes were red.

He spent the rest of the night huffing and fussing over minor things while I did my best to enjoy myself. He whimpered softly and sounded as if he was holding back tears in bed until I spooned him gently from behind and stroked his hair.

Part of me wonders if I brought back to his mind some of his old demons… or if it was just a tantrum.


Sharing A New Piece of Me

I took a moment to look at myself from the side in a full length mirror and couldn’t help but blush. My backside is quite full and round, though I’d hesitate to say it was perfect for anal. It’s a great place for spanking and clawing, however. Of course there’s a bit of bias there considering I like my butt clawed and spanked.

The mouse and I have been talking about trying anal for some time now, with a few failed attempts. I think I designated this weekend for another try and was spurned on by my libido being in a sort of charged overdrive. Perhaps all I needed to do was plant the suggestion in his head and he would have pounced on the idea.

It started with some playful rolling around on a Saturday afternoon. Morning sex didn’t take him completely out of commission and I learned that I’m far too clumsy to lower myself onto him for anal. Perhaps I’m just delightfully awkward. Instead I got on all fours, directed for lube, and relaxed. “They” were right when they said that those are key… Communication helped too. I trust him… and even though I likely won’t feel the ripple of his foreskin sliding up and down in my ass any time soon, it was still a nice full feeling. He doesn’t like wearing condoms I consider it a must in this situation just because the idea of ass-to-mouth or ass-to-pussy squicks me to no end.

Perhaps, I’m a little proud of myself because I was able to take about 5 of his inches… and that’s around where his penis gets to be around 2 inches across. There was a bit of a sting but he was gentle. I think I might have been the one doing most of the moving. I do know that I was incredibly wet to the point of almost dripping again and that when I orgasmed I was a leg shaking shuddering babbling mess. I do know that he started to go flaccid but after a few slow shallow thrusts his erection returned almost instantly. I know that while he kept his cool – he was practically hanging on by a thread.

How I feel about our encounter? I’m not sure. I don’t regret it and I’m glad for that. I’m sure that in the future it’ll be just as fun even though it’s a little uncomfortable at first. How do I feel? I’m not sure.

As with all things…

Perhaps, I’ll have my thoughts together once more after a proper meal.


Teach Me How To Take You

In honor of BAST I’ve decided to pick up a Feeldoe Slim for the mouse and I. (Rather, a matter of going “halves” on one.)

I’ve had my eyes on the Feeldoe for at least eight years now, and still haven’t gotten one. I’ve had my eyes on a Sybian for just as long but a Feeldoe feels far more realistic at this point in time.

The result “window shopping” is me squirming around at work terribly turned on and starting to soak through my pants.

I haven’t had much experience with topping a guy save an attempt with my former boyfriend. (He yelped a lot and wouldn’t let me near his butt again after I rubbed against him with the vibrating head of a strap-on. Now that I think of it, the toy was a bit big for me to take at that time as well. Now, I could likely take it like a pro.) We agreed on something “small” and from what I can tell, the Slim is as small as they get in this line. I may have started drooling a little when I thought of the double penetration prospects or the idea of bending him over in bondage tape and making him squeal.

At the same time, my mind also wandered to a femme mutual friend of ours who has been complaining of lack of good sex lately. The idea of having some fun with her using this particular toy is pretty appealing as well. (though I admit she intimidates my shy side a bit.) The only woman I’ve ever been with is living in my body. I have an idea of what to do – but it’s like a dance. You don’t learn to dance by simply watching or reading. One must practice, move, and teach their body to do the same. I know in theory what to do to pleasure a woman, but I’ve never been able to try. I’m not sure how patient someone would be with me either.

How dry does THAT sound?

So floating around my head right now are different scenes where these two more or less teach me how to pleasure them. I know I can wear my mouse out when I get in the mode, though I think my stamina for riding is perfectly pathetic. I blame my knees. My hands can work pretty well and I’m sure my mouth does pretty well on its own even though my tongue is a little on the short side.

For now there’s the fantasy. Then again, the weekend is still young. Who knows?


Fetliving, FetLife

There’s a part of me that I’ve been neglecting and this past weekend (though extremely tame) cemented that feeling. My sense of kink hasn’t been nurtured. It’s true, I’m still a little “scared” of encountering new people (though I warm up easier if there’s a familiar face or three about.) Just the presence of a few trusted persons am I able to let go and be.

I’ve always been a gentle domme switch who only submits only to certain people. There’s still a lot for me to learn and while I read just about anything I can get my hands on regarding BDSM, I don’t have many opportunities to explore that aspect of my personality. My style is slow, subtle seduction on the way to the bedroom (or whatever room). I love the twisting smoke of temptation. Perhaps, I also have a tendency to top from the bottom. I direct what I like and how I like it. (The mouse and I tend to be a bit fluid in this aspect, or at least claim to be. He still isn’t able to keep up with me and maybe there’s the rub.)

The spiritual side of me is in a bit of conflict with the part of me that is into hypnosis and erotic mind control. These are things that entice my interests but I also keep in mind the ethical aspects of it. I know hypnosis can’t force someone do something they don’t want to, however, it can plant suggestions in mind which can be harmful. Consent is also a major issue for me. While I have an interest in sex magick, I’d be reluctant to do any spells or rituals. Perhaps, it’s my belief that they work mostly with the power of intent as hypnosis does. Perhaps there’s no connection at all.

I’ve started browsing about Fetlife and the more I do, the more I consider that I might like to be in a more full time D/S relationship. Then again, it could be my issues with jealousy and possessiveness rearing heads. Considering the way my mate reacted to the idea of “strict” games, I don’t know how well it would turn out. Then again, it could have just been the nature of our relationship at the time.


To Those I Walk Amongst

To the young and openly queer of color living in the ghetto :
Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for being unashamed of your love, your light, and for not hiding it in the face of the world we live in.
Believe it or not – by simply being you’re helping bring light to this all too often cold world.
Whether you want to or not – you’re encouraging someone out there to do the same.


Of Trust

I mentioned the want to be “milky” again to my boyfriend a few weeks ago. He said he wasn’t running for the hills but he felt he wouldn’t be able to enjoy my breasts if I was full. He said plainly that if it was something I wanted he wouldn’t go against it – but that he’d be less eager to suckle me in that state and that I’d “have to find someone” to suckle me dry… even though I’ve mentioned so many times I wouldn’t want to share my breasts with just anybody.
He hasn’t gone near my breasts since.

“It’s quite a shitty position I’ve put you in, isn’t it?” “It’s not an appealing thought…”

Of course, I can’t completely relax with words like that. For as much as I put up a face of “Oh, it’s okay” it hurt and I felt as if I was a /freak/ for wanting something so simple… so natural…

Maybe I’ve taken twenty steps back because of this. I haven’t been able to massage my breasts without feeling dirty or hearing some of his words… imagining his disgust. Just that easily it was able to hurt my image… my sensual self. Maybe that’s where I grew a little isolated from myself.

It’s possible I no longer fully trust him with that part of me – and for that, it has managed to lock itself away. In inducing lactation and having an ANR, trust is a major matter. I know this. If there’s any anger, any ill feelings, the milk won’t flow. We can be such selfish creatures while trying to be giving.

Becoming A Daughter of Baubo

This is one of the things I need not forget... I have to laugh.
Maybe it’s the Nuvaring leaving my system and things getting back to “normal”. Maybe it’s the dose of vaginal progesterone. (though that gave me a killer headache when I took it.) I feel cheerful now. I looked in the mirror – hair wild and naked. My breasts were touching my stuffed and slightly bloated belly. My labia peeked out from a long left untrimmed pubic mound. Then I smiled and thought of Baubo.

I have to remember to laugh. So what if I’m a little goofy. So what if I’m plump right now (even though I still want to get a bit stronger and fit so that I’m not so tired all the time). My breasts bounce when I jump. My stomach sways when I roll my hips. With each step my backside shifts. I’m full of sensuality. My body holds sexual magic.

I’ve cried far too much these past few days. I’ve worried too much about my boyfriend and what he does or doesn’t do. (Yes, I may still keep an eye on what he does with others and point out what is inappropriate – put foot down – I’m not completely indifferent…) I’ve wasted too much time worrying about other people and not taking care of myself. I haven’t been taking the time to tell my body and soul “I love you.” It’s one of those things I shouldn’t forget. I’ll be with me longer than anybody else in this world will be.

My magic and power to enchant are within me. I need to embrace that more.


Watching Others Watch You

I shouldn’t feel sad. I’m sure I could get just as much attention and I’m aware that it’s not real. You’re feeding into fantasy as I used to do – just for money. I shouldn’t feel jealous. You’re only talking to them in the way you never did to me – and for as much as I said I love flirting and talking dirty. Listening to guys talk to you, about you, making you their eye candy. I feel a bit unnerved but I know you’re doing it for the money.

In five minutes you’ve made enough money to buy yourself a sandwich by showing off your body. I’d be a hard buy…

I shouldn’t feel sad or angry. You first brought this up as something we could both do together. It feels a little painful though, peeking in and you not knowing. You’re making a couple dollars on your day off by showing your body to strangers.

Then again, there’s a limit to how many times a guy can orgasm on screen. A gal can fake it. I think I’d be faking it if I were on that screen. Truth is, I wouldn’t sell myself cheep and make people “work” for it. Even then there’s no certainty they’ll get a real orgasm out of me and I just might learn to get good at faking it.

I shouldn’t feel sad you’re camming. You look miserable during the moments there’s nobody in the room. You’ve been going at this for hours and having orgasmed. I’m sure it’s painful since you’ve been idly stroking for a few hours straight. Peeking in, you look more erect than I’ve seen you in a while – or it could just be the way your boxers are draping around your form. I almost pity you… but it’s work. It’s your first day. It’s early evening. I suppose it’s only natural that it would be rough too. Self control and increasing tempo of your idle strokes… That’s a good enough free show in itself.

You’re freely telling people of moments we’ve shared. You’re bragging about prowess I certainly haven’t seen from you.

Still, while it’s all a “game”… a pitch for money… it stings a little. Maybe, it stings more than it should as you beg for release and their money.

Sexless (or close enough to it)

There are days when all a gal wants is a big, thick, meaty cock to fuck. It’s true! I just might be prone to excess but I think I haven’t had enough of fucking or meaty cock as of late. My anniversary was disappointingly dry (among other things) and my encounters in the days/weeks before just plain disappointing letdowns. (Of course some might say that it’s my fault for not pinning down the mouse and having my way with him… having him give me what I want and TAKE ME. It’s possible that I’m gradually entering my peek and he simply can’t keep up with me.

It starts to feel its best after an hour of fucking. I need a lot of stimulation sometimes and if I’m distracted with a penis in my pussy, orgasming can be tricky… even if I was edging with my clit only milliseconds before. I like being full… love feeling my pussy stretched open to the point just before it starts to hurt (because pain means I’ve gone too far). If I’m not still getting wet, or staying wet, lube is my best friend. The moment becomes sweet and intense as I struggle on the edge of sanity and madness.

Too bad I don’t manage to get this far on a regular basis. The hour tends to wear him out or just as I begin to yowl for more, he deflates and finishes. I pant, curse, moan… and that proves to be too much for him at that point. It either puts him over the edge – or pain and exhaustion take him out.

It could be said that I’m closest to the elusive uterine orgasm at that point. Not to say one orgasm is a better kind than another, but those feel like they might be the best just from the crescendo I’ve never felt reach it’s true peak. It may be the stuff my multiple orgasms are made of. My multiple orgasms are hiding in my uterus and that’s why I need a Sybian!

And after that I have a cup of tea.

But really, this spell of bad and boring sex is starting to wear on me. I want to have sex until I’m raw and sore for a day or two afterwards. I want to be able to trace down the scratch marks and smile. MULTIPLE ORGASMS AND PASSING OUT IN A DROOLING PANTING GOOEY MESS!!! This is what I’m looking for. Of course, having my partner be in a bit of a passed out gooey mess would be fun too.

So I pulled out my largest, thickest dildo that fits, lubed it up, slipped it in my lips with my heel on the base, and rolled my hips while touching my clit until I came – holding back a scream.

And then I had some tea.



I only partly retract yesterday’s statements due to mood. In line with the reading I did for myself last night, I reject reality and replace it with my own. How else am I going to be happy? If I keep myself in the boxes that are out there – how will I grow into my truest self? How can I break free of my cocoon?

Hormone therapy isn’t bad. I have to remember that too. I don’t particularly care for what high doses of some progesterones do to me. I’m still going to work at kicking of the fat that using Depo and the Nuvaring gave me. (However, /that/ fat could also be partly attributed to eating out more and not running up a hill every morning.) After inserting a Nuvaring last night, I felt a bit better mood wise. I perked up a bit. I remembered how suicidal and depressed I’d feel before I started hormonal birth control and how everything seemed to level out mentally once I did. (Then again, that could have also been the influence of having sex on a slightly more regular basis.)

I’ll be on the Nuvaring and using progesterone vaginal suppositories for approximately 2 months (or in other words, until June’s moon). I know that this will cause my menstrual cycle to reset it self, it also might make my periods heavier for a month or two. (or lighter with spotting all month). I still have access to progesterone cream. I’ll just have to wait and see what the end result will be.

In regards to my milk inducing, I might invest in an electric pump eventually. For now I can let the hormones do their thing and help my breasts develop/mature more ducts.



Cheap significant others are a ton of fun, aren’t they? The mouse and I had our four year dating anniversary this weekend and I’m feeling as if I’m doing far too much. I would hate to think of myself as being really materialistic, but at the same time, it feels like he didn’t give it much thought at all and hid behind “I’m not good at things like this.” He played the song he was working on as far back as his last girlfriend and seems to have forgotten he told me as much the first time he played it and then that the lyrics were inspired by me when the ones that started it were in “her” song. I spent money on gifts, labored over a craft, and cooked something especially for him.

And, reading that back it feels like a game of “the most”.

Thinking of the relationship, I’m feeling a bit hurt right now and I’m sure if it were it’s own speaking monster, it wouldn’t be too happy right now either. I’m reminded a little of the Valentine’s Day he spent playing video games with a friend. On our anni night, while I was feeling a little ill during the day and he let me sleep, when I felt better once again he stayed up all night once more playing video games. I tried to have a heart to heart with him about our relationship and even then he had one eye to his game.

There’s a sting.

I don’t want to be his mother. He tried to be intimate but I think it just hurt too much emotionally at the time to open up. It felt like he wanted yet another “gift”… and at that point it felt like an insult or attempting to placate. I think it was this morning I said that I expected nothing for our anniversary. I hoped for something special, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. It goes back to the sentiment of “it would have been nice”, but there was no realistic expectation of something. Maybe that’s the saddest part of it all.

I might even be too depressed to masturbate…


Broken Blood

It seems whenever my flow is about to begin – my mind falls into a deep fog which breaks as soon as the first bits of blood flow. As soon as the bleeding starts with clotting and tissue, my mind clears and my mood lifts. The congestion is leaving me and my energy starts to flow freely again. I wonder if that’s what other women feel.

It’s true that this month I was a little concerned with the delay in mind, but at the same time hope this is a legitimate shift in my cycle as a whole and not just a result of my exercising just as the first tinge of spotting began last week. I have a convention to attend next month and the heaviest and most painful days fall right in the midst of it all. I could take the more spiritual meditative approach, but I don’t know if I’m THAT in tune with my body to will away a heavy flow.



I’m not quite sure where I read it, but some women use self sucking as a method of assisting their induced lactation. I haven’t been able to express manually for some time now, though I’ve felt my breasts heavy and sometimes “wet” with want. While in the middle of a workout the other day I think I had a bit of a let down reflex, as well. (or at least it FELT like that. Milk glands are modified sweat glands after all).

Yesterday, about an hour of hydrated exercise and a shower, I tried self sucking for a moment while touching myself. My labia were dry mostly until I clumsily fit my nipple in my mouth. Then with a few suckles – out came a salty fluid. It wasn’t very thick. It wasn’t thin like saliva. However, I could taste the saltiness of it. I tried again a little later and more came out. I tried once more when I got home and still more. That never happened before.

Am I happy about it? I’m excited but I’m not sure if happy is the right word. I’m smiling pleased with myself, but I hope it doesn’t go away as soon as my period ends. It was due to start yesterday, and usually suckling and orgasms get the blood moving.

My period seems to be delayed as well. I’m not worried about pregnancy as Misty seems to be still be well in place. It could very well be just because of the change of season and the fact that I’ve been exercising like mad lately. That actually may be the reason, as I’d been cramping up a storm as I usually do before my period begins, got one day of the tell tale spotting. (That came after a bout of cervical cramps) THEN I decided to do a workout to try to deal with the aches, along with a strong cup of White Sage tea. I’d think the White Sage would have dried me up … but here I am with salty wet nipples.



He cut his hair. When I met my lover he had a full(ish) head of wavy brown hair that hung past his shoulders. On some of our first dates, and even some of our later ones, we would sit out in the sun and I would brush his hair. I’d brush deeply, massage his scalp, and he’d become restful as I mixed into his hair soap and oils. And now his hair is cut.

It feels odd. I know he’s been thinking about this for a long time. The length had become a nuisance to him. He didn’t like shedding hair in a way he felt was constant, and he didn’t like having to pick it out of his laundry or from drains after washing. He says now that his head feels lighter and that I was the one who convinced him to leave it at one inch. To be completely honest, I don’t think I would have been able to bear it much shorter.

I did help him with the trimmers and to make sure that it was cut evenly. I cut off a major portion of his locks and shuddered all the while. He still looks as attractive as he ever did. He’s still my lover. Now, however, it feels like an affair. The familiar feel of my finger knotting in his waves is replaced with a bit of bristling against my hand. He too says he may miss the feel of me using his hair as a sort of lead, looping it up as we have sex or he buries his face between my thighs.

It feels odd. He’s the same person but somehow feels a stranger unfamiliar. I found myself startled a few times when I looked to him, for him. True, my lover is there, but something that I always identified with him is gone, and I feel my familiarity shaken surreal.


Camera Shy Exhibitionist

My mate is currently considering going into the “webcam” business. He found what he feels to be a legitimate agency and has brought up the idea of making me his partner for shows. This sparks mixed emotions for me.

On one hand, as far as internet sex goes, I tend to direct or write. I’ve teased and taunted. I plant thoughts in the minds of others and only show pictures if they earn it with tribute. They must show me their hand first – prove themselves worthy of my attentions. Even then, it takes a while before they can see my intimate parts. Even then, they have to get themselves off. To webcam would put me out of my element and completely shake my own system of doing things. I don’t think I’d like that.

I haven’t agreed to working with him in front of the camera’s lens. I’m all for a bit of healthy exhibitionism, but on my terms. I’d rather be around trusted parties than strangers in that regard – or carefully picked strangers. I’m not sure I’m 100% okay with him whipping his penis out in front of a camera either, but, he’s comfortable with it. I know it’s his body and he’s looking at it more as a way to make money and ends meet. Perhaps, it upset me a bit that he considered the idea of us “selling” our private moments for any random person to look in on. I’ve brought up the idea of having sex in front of people we know and the fact that that’s probably far more comfortable to me than the idea of someone fetishizing our bodies.

There are far too many people out there who don’t deserve the privilege of looking at me in the nude.


Flirt with me

I admit it’s fun and gives a thrill. Harmless flirting with friends without touching or joking in the realm of the risqué is a delight. I admit this. Lacing innuendo and just being silly. I love it. I love it so much! There are days I can’t get enough.

I step back when it’s obvious the other person has other things on their mind. I’m not looking for follow through right now. There’s where temptation and threat to relationships starts. But to flirt – is harmless I think. (especially so when the other person is game and not into your gender primarily.) Then again, I’m one who likes to flirt with her friends. I joke, cuddle, and hug freely if I like you.

Flirting can be on par with talking dirty with me with a love. Words and tone have a huge effect. When mixed with confidence it’s a beautiful combination.


Slow Confessions

I told him about ANR… I wasn’t able to get a complete read of his reaction but could sense a degree of repulsion when I said what the acronym stood for. Bodily fluids put him off, even though he doesn’t mind feeling my wetness on his shaft. It’s only a minor exception…

He said it felt greedy somehow but that he wouldn’t have a problem if not for the fact that I “secrete”.

The looking back on the conversation feels dizzying and a bit disappointing. In voicing it, I realized how much this means to me… how much nursing and possibly one day lactating affects me.

Maybe I do have a little of that “obsession” some people talk about, though I don’t always keep up with day to day massaging. I barely keep up with my /regular/ day to day schedule. Still, the desire manages to bubble up here and there. My breasts gives way to its tingling heaviness and my nipples sway with a sensitive deep pang.

This is what they’re for.


Putting things into words

My mate and I seem to have been stuck in an argument until yesterday. There was a lot of tension… a lot of crying… and an undeniable heaviness in the air around us as the days went by. We’ve likely had unresolved business up to yesterday. I don’t feel like there is any ill will between us right now. There are things we won’t ever see completely eye to eye on and I still don’t like the idea of sharing or being shared. Perhaps, it would be best to gradually move our relationship back into a state of complete monogamy.

It melted away in a nursing session…
True, we fell into another small “argument” and tears after something poorly timed was said in the moment, but by night, all was well once more. I won’t say that drinking far too many Mike’s Hard Lemonades is what calmed me. (Drinking alcohol makes me either giggly or want to fight.) But all calmed again after the second nursing session. (Which followed a massage.)

I think I was able to get some of my emotions out regarding ANR as well. In the past I’ve said it simply feels very good, relaxes me, and is an easy way to turn me on. This time, I told him it was something that put me and left me in a very vulnerable place during the moment. It’s something that makes me relaxed, aroused, awash with emotions, spiritual and physical all in one. I feel cared for and feel nurturing at the same time in that embrace, with legs entwined. Tooth against nipple is a sensation – but for as much of the breast as possible in his mouth, pulling in the areola, I am in a strange bliss.

Maybe, he’s beginning to understand what it means to me. Maybe, he’s more comfortable with the idea of spending quiet time in my bosom. Maybe, he did it just to stop the fighting and as a way of giving me something I love.

As with all things, time will tell.


Reflecting the Almost Sleepless Night

When I cried, I lied.
It feels that way. As I heard you sob, choking down your tears and sounding desperate, it was as if you were trying to cling to me with your words. Then I felt like I was lying to you. I felt that the most honest I’d been all night was to say that the love from me was dying. I said “I love you” to stop the tears and I wonder if you heard the hesitation in my voice.
When I cried, I lied…
I’ve been questioning everything lately, if my first yes was just so I wouldn’t be alone… if I’m settling… if the feelings I thought were so deep were ever true and if your words and actions are killing them.
I told you I felt numb from all the fighting… all the arguing… and you apologized for making me feel that way. You said you wished your love was enough for win me.
All I wanted was for you to do a little more… to try a little harder… to no be complacent with my presence or treat me as someone to hold… a warm body.
I do know that I don’t want things between us to end badly. I don’t want it to end like this.
Maybe, we’ll be able to sit down in the open air and be able to talk this out. Maybe we just need to reconnect from the most basic part of our relationship.


Power Games

Maybe, I’m just acting out a little from feeling “neglected”. Maybe it’s just a need to exercise that part of my personality again. I’ve introduced a bit of a “game” into my primary relationship. It started with the idea of just not letting my mate touch me or kiss me without permission. To touch me, he’d have to work for it… earn it…

Of course was the matter of him agreeing or not. He seemed reluctant saying he might falter and then agreed. He wasn’t forced and I told him that it was up to him if he wanted to give up the luxury. He said simply that he’d do his best. (Though his “best” seems to be at this point doing things that upset me, right now, and complaining. He was the one who agreed.)

Maybe it isn’t quite a good idea but I think we’ll come out of this for the better… even if the immediate result isn’t something we like…

Maybe, I’m just acting out and this is a result of it. It’s possible that the relationship has met it’s end and I’ve already fallen out of love with him. Maybe it’s me just wanting to be treated like a woman… like a goddess… and not just the girlfriend who does his laundry, sucks his cock, and lays under him as he gives uneven humps. Maybe, I’m hurting… and this is the best way I know of making him step back and consider his actions.


February Mourning

I never stopped loving her…

I’ve been walking around with a terrible cloud over my head that was only eased by the distraction of sore muscles. It’s heavy and almost drowning. Maybe, it was there ever since I heard the news two years ago even though I’ve kept that smile on my face. I haven’t spoken to her in almost a year. I think it hurts too much to.

I’m a coward and the only woman I ever really loved… or closest to fell in love with … is married now. Her anniversary is in the next few days.

I wrote a journal entry last year that said it more to the world without ever telling her. Maybe, I’ve convinced myself it’s better this way but at the same time feel so helpless. Obsessed? I don’t know. Stalking? Heavens forbid… I see what her hands create in art. I stay away from her personal life and only look in at how she’s advancing professionally. That isn’t stalking, is it?

Reading over my words from a year before and seeing they still sting true. I’d still fight for her if I could. If I could… I haven’t stopped being a coward long enough to have a conversation with her. It still hurts… I feel like I can’t face her and I don’t have the right to. She has her life now and I’m no part of it. I have my mate and we simply are. I still wish her happiness though I know it isn’t with me.

The best word may be “forlorn” for this emotion.
Just like this people walk in and out of our lives…

Maybe I’ll be able to cry soon. Maybe I’ll be able to lie down, bawl my eyes out, and go back to hiding this feeling inside of me for another year. Maybe I’ll stop feeling this knot in my chest that travels up to my throat choking me when I think of her… this twisting in my stomach that makes me want to puke… to scream…

Part of me wants to forget…
Part of me wants to never stop caring...

I know it wouldn’t work out. My logical mind says so. I want her to be happy and it’s okay that she doesn’t feel the same way about me.
It’s okay.
It’s okay.
It’s okay.
I remind myself of that.
Yet, it still hurts and I feel selfish because of it.

Time will continue to move on. The feeling will dull. I’ll meet other people. Maybe my relationship with my mate will get better. I’ll meet other women and maybe fall in love with them. My logical mind tells me this. Still, the pang creeps back.



I think I’ve known for some time that I don’t particularly like wearing a bra. When I’m at home I tend to take them off as soon as possible or go as close to being topless as being around my immediate blood family allows. I’d stopped wearing bras at home with the exception of a sports bra for workouts.

I’ve been completely brafree for almost three weeks now. I tried putting one on as a “modest” at home top, but that lasted for about 15 minutes.

I’ve not put on a bra to leave the house with in about three weeks, and I like it a lot better this way. True, there’s a little sway, and bounce – but that’s just fine with me. My breasts hang a little lower but they haven’t hurt at all. I think my posture is improving slightly as well.

Part of me dreads when the spring and summer come once again. My nipples are quite prominent and taping them down doesn’t do anything. In fact – they best the tape and cause it to fall off. Perhaps, I’ll just have to think of something when the time comes.

As of now, exercising without a bra isn’t very troublesome. If I’m doing light plyometrics, I do my best to hold t hem down as I would when bounding down a flight of stairs. I haven’t gotten to the point where I need to wear some form of support undergarment. Lifting weights makes no difference. I feel a horrible case of the giggles while doing yoga, however. There’s nothing quite like easing into downward dog and then having your boobs on your face. (Or maybe it’s just me being a big kid getting a kick out of it.)

Perhaps, I’ll stitch up some bamboo tube tops to exercise in and wear when the weather changes. Bamboo does absorb while wicking away moisture. The question would then be if they’d be too hot. Some black tank tops would be good to add to my wardrobe again as well.
In the meanwhile, I’m walking around and feeling free.



I’m told one of the side effects of starting to induce and ANRs is a change in menstrual cycles. I haven’t quite figured out what that change is supposed to be just yet – but I do know that my bleeding days seem to have lessened a bit. I sometimes have cramps just before my period starts and have pretty much gotten my cycle down in terms of pattern.

With Misty, it seems to go as follows:
Brown to Red Spot – Clot –Thin – Clot – Red to Brown Spot – Dry - Pink EWC – Dry – Cramp

For a few months I was synced with the moon phases and was able to predict/expect based on that. Not anymore… I’m still regular based on the above pattern and work with that now… loose estimation regarding date.

One thing I’m keeping in mind is the phenomenon of uterine flutter. I’ve learned and felt it with a lot of nipple stimulation. I might have also been able to distinguish it among what I thought was a letdown reflex… (still without milk). I know that when my mate suckled recently after a while of not being at my breast – I saw the blood afterwards. I think a difference in that session was that I was actually in a nursing headspace. Perhaps the real question is whether I’ll be allowed the peace and stillness in nursing to feel it more often.


Why Write

There are other sex blogs out there. There are other blogs about ANR and BDSM. There are other female bodied persons out there who identify themselves as bisexual or queer. There are other shy feminists.
But they aren’t me.

True, I haven’t drawn large sparkling arrows to my physical body and identity. I’m still “hiding” behind an assumed mask of anonymity. I’m still me.
Everyone’s experience in this world is unique. Nobody else can tell your story quite the way you can. Nobody else sees the world in the exact way you do.
And so for this reason I write…

Maybe my words could help someone else on their journey as the words of others have helped me.

They’ll reach none, trapped inside my head.



I remember that feeling… that want so intense and focused that it almost borders need. It haunts and lingers in my mind… my flesh…

I remember that gentle coaxing and guiding… indirect lesions on how to latch and the way it gradually seemed to become completely natural to you… the softness of your voice when I tell you to relax and not worry about groping my chest… the mixture of sigh and moan as your moments become meditation and the point where my body finds your fingers without protest.

Things like tantra and the idea of sacred sex draw me. I wish to experience and live in that feeling once more. I say you ground me but simultaneously it pains to not be able to float away… drift away in a sea of emotion and pleasures…

I recall the quiet… how you said you wished you could spend your everydays with me in this way… your welcome home in my bosom. You said to be there was calming… relaxing… and as much as my sexual side loves the feel of your lips and tongue gently tugging, my spiritual side and sensuality with you were being honest.

I wish you were being honest.

Perhaps my own release and blossoming will be when I am full and worries about not being able to drain my breasts are no more. Maybe I will be more free when I no longer feel this tense longing and my nipples tell of my fulfillment spelled out in each drop.

For now I feel the swelling with no yield and no true release.


Some nights I dream in milk

My breasts feel tender and full. I wouldn't know if they are or not... if it's just the fluctuation of my hormones or neglected desire or maybe my glands waking up. My breasts feel full.

Nipple stimulation is high on the list of things that turn me on, but considering I also am open to the idea of an adult breastfeeding relationship with my mate, days like this remind me of that desire – nay – craving. And so this tender heaviness fills me with a mixture of melancholy and horniness.

I've never been pregnant and I've never been in the milk before. I've felt peace with my lover at my chest. He certainly seems to enjoy being there but I'm not sure how he'd readily welcome such a flow, or even a trickle. A mutual friend of ours who we've invited into our sex life might love it.

Should it flow, I imagine it like an elixir of healing easing forth and warmly filling their mouths and stomachs. I'm aware some use breast milk and menstrual blood in both kink and sex magicks. I don't think I'd take that particular route, myself.

... Well, the blood and magick anyway...


Maybe it’s my fault for having hot friends

I don't think I'd have much of a problem having sex with my closest friends. Each of them is very dear to me and I happen to find them very attractive. Maybe it's because we in our own ways complement one another. Maybe it's the bond of trust between us. Maybe it's the fact that we look out for one another and there are just few enough of them that if that level of intimacy developed – it would still be a closed circle and somehow so much safer.

My best friends have all the qualities I'd want in my lovers, and if not for the matter of them being paired off – I'd make this known.

One or two of this circle have already let me know of their thoughts and attraction. I joke that our relationship is borderline incestuous because we consider each other like siblings, with traces of mothering one another. To be in a safe and nurturing relationship is certainly attractive. One or two of this circle have already let me know of their thoughts. One filled with guilt after a case of heavy drinking. The other still close and they're still telling such in playful flirting back and forth though we no longer do anything about it.

I don't think I'd have much problem aside from the messiness it might cause and I don't think I'm so bold as yet as to say as much to those who don't already know I'd welcome such a moment. Perhaps the messiness and possible loss of that safe feeling is what worries me.

The Rules

Welcome to my playground.

I'd say I'm pretty open minded as far as internet-interactions go.
We can chat, we can pass words, respect is key. I will give respect where respect is due, and if I ever say something that is "wrong", I invite people to call me on it.

Considering comments, one can say whatever they want – but I don't delete opposing viewpoints. If you act like a nitwit – it will be recorded for prosperity. Wouldn't mom be proud? One can reveal a lot about themselves through their words, after all.

I will delete spam without hesitation unless it amuses me. Libel, harassment, threats, and/or attempts to disrupt this blog or my real life will be recorded and reported as needed. Sharing of my private information (or anybody else's) will not be tolerated.