"But the May Day is the Great Day"

But, really. It's fuckin' Beltane. And I don't care if you celebrated it on May 1st or May 3rd or are waiting till tomorrow - whenever you celebrate it, remember that It Is A Season, so we've got till Litha for all this hotwethoneysweetsex-energy.

My Beltane - Let Me Show You It:

Wednesday, April 3oth -
I went and watched Firefly ("War Stories" and "Trash", for those Browncoats out there) with the Magician and his roommate. I had been promised a Good White Russian (my hands-down favorite mixed drink) in exchange for a Good Back Rub. Mmm, liquor drinks. After the drink and back rub, there was cuddling. And my First in a Long Time handjob-to-completion - I'm out of the habit with Apollo...we normally just get to fucking after a little bit. I get so neurotic over giving pleasure - it's like I'm afraid I've forgotten how. But it was a goodness. As are the Magician's soft hands and sweet nails.

Thursday, May 1st -
I went out a-wandering around my neighborhood, making a clover chain to the Goddess, admiring Her loveliness and re-committing myself to Her work. Later that evening, I had drinks with my Victorian Lit class. After that, I went home and jumped on Apollo. Because yes.

Friday, May 2nd -
Acted as a chaperon for the alternative prom that my church was sponsoring for the GLBTQ kids in the area from 7-9. What amazing clothes! I should've been queer in high school...alas, alack. I felt really wonderful about helping to provide a safe space for these kids to dance and have a good time - and so VERY pleased that my church was so supportive. After that, I headed over to the club for the Voltaire show. It was my first Voltaire show, and hot damn. That man. Would let him fuck me six ways to Sunday. I already knew he was clever, much like his historical, satirical counterpart...but damn. The Magician showed up, and Church Goth Boy (CGB) was there with his wonderful wife. My friend Ceres brought her middle-school-aged daughter and her daughter's friend - and they were terribly cute in their excitement and embarrassment. Also, about half of the normal RHPS cast was there...so I was wondering who the hell was working the show. I think the highlights of the night were his parody of the Dresden Dolls' "Coin Operated Boy" as "Coin Operated Goy", the Star Trek song about how Data is "fully functional...and anatomically correct," and his final encore song. He introduced this song by saying that it was not one of his...but a song from a movie which he felt had definitely influenced him, and probably most of us, in becoming the perverse people we are today. The light was coming on at this point, but I didn't dare hope. He continued to say that we should sing the words if we knew them...and the other words, if we knew them. HA! And he began:
"Micheal Rainer was ill the day the earth stood still
and he told us where we stand! ("On our feet!" "On your knees!")"
Ahhh. The Rocky folks in the audience supplied the (fucking, sucking) callback lines, and it was wonderful.

Saturday, May 3rd -
Got up and went to the Magician's for breakfast (ok, brunch) and hanging out. I had told him, last night, that when we hung out today, he owed me a back rub this time. This back rub ended up with me topless on his black satiny sheets - which, let me just say, is a luxurious experience. There were nails and hair-pulling (ahh), and my hand on his cock (an observation: the more familiar and varied your experience with genitals are, the more attractive they look on their own merits. I don't think that before Wednesday night I had ever actively thought "What a pretty cock."). After he came, we cuddled, me still in jeans, him nekkid. Laying there, just being in contact, was lovely, luscious. But I was starting to ache for more. On Wednesday, I had initiated the taking-off of pants. I was hoping, quietly, that this time would see a reciprocation of that. But part of the Magician's charm and beauty is that he doesn't push. He has Patience. So, I lay there stewing in desire before finally working up the chutzpah to ask him for another bite, at least. He cheerfully obliged, staying to run his hands, his fingers over my breasts, tweaking and pulling. Eventually, his nails crept to the border of my pants, slipping under, slipping around. Then slipping over my jeans, pressing between my legs until I gasped.
"So, um, I guess this might be a good time to have the 'rules and boundaries' conversation," he said.
"Yeah...well...my boundaries are pretty flexible. I have standing permission for...pretty much whatever I want to do. I would want to check with Apollo before we have intercourse, if we get to that point, but that's it. Oh, and...well...I guess you should know that it generally takes me a long while to be comfortable giving oral."
"Ok. Well, you get to set the pace, so that's fine."
Then the conversation dissolved into the movement of hands, hands down the front of my jeans, hands helping me remove my jeans. Fingers pressing through my undies as I spasmed on the bed - so gentle, yet so effective. Really. I...I sometimes despair of a partner's manual clitoral stimulation being truly orgasmic, but my faith is hereby renewed.
"Are you always so responsive, or am I just special?"
"You're special, and I'm always this responsive," I grinned, "I do tend to prefer penetration to clitoral stimulation..."
"Well, if that's how you respond to clitoral stimulation and you prefer penetration...I'm not sure if I can keep up with your moving."
"Mm. Well, honestly, you're better than most. And besides, I figured those nails would make penetration pretty difficult anyway."
"You just have to be careful. It is possible." And yes, yes it was possible. And beautiful. And utterly...wow. I came down, slowly, walking to my car, clutching my prayer beads, grounding into them.
From there, I headed off to Ceres's place for the Beltane ritual and party. As usual, Pagan Standard Time was in full effect...so the ritual started an hour later than it was supposed to. But it was lovely. I started in my cranberry colored robes, and read to the participants about Shadow and Bast, and hot, feline sex. Then I led them into guided meditation to meet their Wild Love - the personification of their desires and passions. While they were in meditation, I slipped out of my robes so that when they opened their eyes, they saw me in fishnets, black underwear, my crimson corset, and my knee-high boots. We're talking transformation here. :)
Afterwards, we poured drinks and got ready to watch Secretary. Before we got the movie in, however, I found myself chatting with Ceres's friend, the Amazon, and her girl - a beautiful, newly transitioning girl, Kwan Yin. At some point, Kwan Yin remarked that it would be really hot if the Amazon and I made out. Of course, I began blushing furiously, and asked if she was serious. The Amazon gave me her best "come fuck me" look, and Kwan Yin assured me that she was, indeed, serious.
"But...the boys are watching. I don't know that I want to put on a show..."
"Why the fuck not? Who the hell cares, really?"
Well, when you put it like that...I edged towards her, and she extended her arms. And her lips, woman's lips, soft and succulent. Strong passion and soft body. Lips creeping to the neck, my shivers beginning. Kwan Yin touches my shoulder, and offers me her lips too. I kiss, oh, I kiss. My hands weave into her hair, and she responds. She, too, finds my neck, finds my shudder.
"You're so much fun," they agree, "You're so easy." I am easy, that way. Easy to please, easy to arouse. I like it that way.
We've formed a pile of arms and legs and hands - making out on the floor. I don't remember that the boys are there. And they are there, watching. But it doesn't matter. All that matters are their lips and their hands in my hair. Amazon gets up for a moment, and returns, saying:
"Ceres has cleared off her bed...I mean, no expectations, but we could take this in there...it'd be more comfortable and more private."
"Let me call my boyfriend," I say. Apollo gives me his full blessing, and I join them on Ceres's bed.
"I don't know how I feel, " Amazon says, "about having sex with you. Or about Kwan Yin having sex with you. But I definitely want to play with your breasts." Oh, that's fiiine by me. Beautiful. She undoes my corset, slow and careful, praising the softness of my skin, the luminescence of me, the responsiveness of my nerves. Kwan Yin is at my mouth, and what kisses! I am confused, though, when Amazon goes for my undies and fishnets.
"Wait...what constitutes 'sex'?"
"Oh, I don't count hands."
"Excellent!" And it was. Friendly and passionate and gorgeous. I watched them in ecstasy, kissing them while they went down on each other. I put my fingers inside my second woman, ever, and felt the wonder of clenching vaginal muscles. I felt their fingers inside me, heavenly, heavenly. Kwan Yin, merciful lady that she is, was fingering us both, at one point. I clutched them in my passion, and embraced them in theirs.
I had only met them that day. And still, it was sacred. Still, it was holy. Still, it was my Beltane.

My Beltane Bliss, Let Me Show You It.

"Beg"

That's what he said. It was a week ago, my second formal playdate with RHF. We went out for sushi (a first for me!), and back to his place for BDSM. We'd agreed: Below the waist is fine, but manual stimulation only. No oral, no intercourse. Honorifics would be used.
"Do you want something?" he asked, after he'd flogged me well, and left a sizable bruise on my ass with his palm. He'd finally taken my panties off, and was slowly creeping up my inner thighs.
"Mm-hmm," I moaned.
"What do you want, then?" he inquired. Oh gods. I was already so high, so high...I could have just stayed there, as long as he kept touching me. I didn't care, didn't know what I wanted, just that I wanted.
"I don't know...just...I don't know, Sir." His fingers made contact with my labia, and I shuddered. They split my lips, teasing me, just brushing my clit. "How much do you like to be teased?" he had asked, while we were discussing limits for today. So much, I told him. So much. In this space, teasing...isn't. It is its own fulfillment.
"Have you found words again?" he asked, "Can you tell me what you want now?" I had the feeling that he was looking for something along the lines of "I want to come," but that wasn't in me. I didn't specifically want an orgasm...I was happy where I was.
"I...I...want something in my cunt, please, Sir." Penetration, though, yes. That, I craved.
"Beg." Quiet. Struggling within myself for words. Struggling to ask for what had always been freely given.
"Please...Please Sir. Please."
"Please what?"
"Please Sir, please put your fingers in my cunt." And two fingers, immediately, inside me. My knees bent reflexively, bearing down, aching with sudden need. My arousal rose to that plateau of orgasmic bliss, and I cried out.
"Remember, you have to ask before you can come." Shit. I had forgotten, because he hadn't specifically reminded me beforehand, that he likes to practice orgasm control. Shit. Part of me wanted to confess my sin, but I was still on Orgasm Plateau, that place where I'm flying in orgasmic bliss, with random Peaks of even more intense pleasure. I couldn't figure out if I should, how I should, or how to explain myself if I were to confess. So I asked.
"Please sir, please may I orgasm?"
"Beg." But I am begging, I thought. What more does he want? I tried to let go even more, let my most uninhibited self speak, but all she could say was "please".
"Please, please Sir, Please let me orgasm. Please. Please!"
"Come." I tightened my Kegels, and got a Peak, crying out. He withdrew slowly, and helped me sit on the ledge at the bottom of his cross. I lay my head on my arms, panting and weak. There was a tearing sound, like a condom wrapper.
"You might want to look and see where this condom is going," he said, but I didn't need to. I knew. When he found out that I'd never used a vibrator before, he decided that this session would introduce me to the Hitachi Magic Wand. He had it on the "low" setting, and placed it between my legs. Ahh. Pleasant...though if I shifted, just a bit, it landed on my clit - and suddenly, I began to understand. He kicked it up into high gear, and I only barely remembered to choke out "Please, please Sir, may I orgasm? Please, I need to." Silence.
"Please Sir! Please, oh please. Let me orgasm sir, please!" Finally, after a few repetitions, I heard:
"Come." I screamed.
"Come." A cry.
"Keep coming." Guttural moans, all the while pressing myself against the Hitachi, feeling an exquisite-ness to the orgasm that normally doesn't happen with clitoral orgasms, normally reserved for the Almighty G-Spot.
Finally he turned it off. Finally he helped me to the bed, disrobed himself, and snuggled with me. After I had my brain back, I 'fessed up to my Unauthorized Orgasm. "I know. You get one free day. Don't do it again."
And I lay there wondering, and I'm still wondering, how on Earth I'm going to manage it. The Orgasm Plateau, for me, is a place that I come to suddenly, without warning, when one little thing goes very right...no telling what that'll be. And on that plateau, it's several minutes of deeply orgasmic bliss with small peaks, but even the baseline is ecstatic and orgasmic. What do I do, for orgasm control? Ask before I hit a peak? Ask before I hit the Plateau, period? I don't understand. I really doubt that I can hold back either the peaks or the Plateau. It almost makes me want to forgo the whole orgasm thing in general in the context of kink. I mean, not that it wasn't nice, but I feel well-fucked from a good flogging, with no actual orgasm involved. And there's no stress about holding off, or defining what is or is not an orgasm.
On an unrelated note, none of the sex bloggers I read/have read ever mention the fact that pressing oneself enthusiastically against the Hitachi can result in one's labia feeling bruised. For days. That was interesting.
I'm still processing the begging thing. It didn't feel wrong...but, again, like I didn't know what he wanted. I don't mind asking for something...it was kind of sexy to plead. But, at the same time, it's difficult. Difficult to form words, difficult to form ideas.

In still other news, Happy Beltane! Wendy encourages everyone to take advantage of warmer temperatures and take the fucking outside. For this Beltane, I will be attending a Voltaire concert, priestessing a ritual, and having snuggle time with the Magician tomorrow. And then Pentacost is next week...all my red clothes are getting a workout!

My gender...

Ariel has recently been posting about gender, and what hers looks like. I got fascinated, and started thinking about how gender applies to me. Ariel mentions that "I have a lot of gender but very little direction," meaning that she likes to present a wide variety of gender-y appearances.
I think, perhaps, that I have a lot of sex (as in, identification with my biological sex, being female), and just enough gender to come down on the side of "feminine". I read about Sinclair finding her butch identity, and performing gender - and I wonder at the amount of work it seems like, to have to be so deliberately oneself. But, on the other hand, the intentionality appeals to me - gender must matter if folks are willing to take such pains with it.
But I'm gender-lazy. As I said in my comment on Ariel's blog, I am high nothing. Not high femme, not high butch, not high tomboy, not even high-scholarly, for crying out loud. I am female, and generally somewhat feminine, but that's about it.
I love my RHPS corset, fishnets, and heels, with heavy makeup and space-age hair.
I love dressing hippie-boho-girly and sharply elegant with makeup to suit.
That's about 5% of the time, though. The rest of the time, I wear sweaters and t-shirts and comfy pants and Birkenstocks and the occasional skirt. I just got a pair of nice brown flats and a pair of tall black boots (with no heels) for Christmas, and that was a huge step for me. I don't want to put so much effort into how people see me, how I appear, most of the time.
I was a dancer for many years. From sixth grade until my senior year in high school, I was in at least one full-length ballet per year. I learned, through those experiences, to love the high-maintenance required by performing - but it was a special thing. Only a few nights out of the year does one put on the makeup, slick the hair, and wear the costume - take on the part. It's ritual, this dressing-up, which requires adequate scenery and lights and music to go with it. I couldn't do it every day. Dressing up, performing, is for me a way to explore and relish the sides of me that are not the everyday me.
For instance, I absolutely LOVE going to Rocky Horror, once in awhile. I love yelling the callbacks, love putting on my eyeliner and darker eyeshadow to go with my crimson corset, black panties, and fishnets. I love putting my hair up in those two, Leia-esque buns. This is my Shadow, my overtly sexual and crude self, my self who seduces. My self who revels in the sounds of the woman being flogged in the back of the theater, and the looks the ticket-taker gives me as I walk past.
But this is not someone I want to be any more frequently than once or twice a month (in public, at least). I need and crave that outlet, that stage...but only on occasion.
I understand that, to one degree or another, I am performing my gender everyday whether I think I am or not. But it does not feel like it...I'm really not even sure what my gender is. Comfortably feminine? Low-maintenance? I associate gender so much with appearance and fashion that I can't separate the two. I know gender is more than appearance....but I think it's reflected in appearance, at least when in "high" forms. I don't know, though. Hm.
This is what I know: I am feminine. I am female. I am submissiveish. I like boys and girls and girls who used to be boys (and probably the other way round, if I ever meet one). I am attracted to androgyny, femininity (not girly-ness), and masculinity. I am attracted to dominance and confidence, in men and women. I love being bitten and having my hair pulled. I'm fascinated by kink and power exchange. I'm deeply spiritual, and conceive of God'dess as Lover. I wear my hair down as much as possible. I am poly.
Some of this is biological sex, some is sexual orientation, some is preference...does all this together make gender? Maybe?