Today, I went over to RHF's place. And hit his girlfriend, Columbia, with various floggers and paddles - which was excellent practice. She's a lovely bottom - more responsive than the Cloaked Norseman. Then, after my arm was tired, and RHF had cooled her down with judiciously applied ice, I bit her. Hot damn. I am hesitant and very much still finding my way with regard to impact play, when I'm on the giving/topping end. But when it come to biting and hair-pulling, that I can do, confidently and joyfully, given an enthusiastic subject. And Columbia was quite enthusiastic. I learned, in college, that there are several boys who melt into a little puddle when you firmly grasp the hair at the nape of their neck. I learned that these same boys tend to make very pretty noises when you sink your teeth into their shoulders. Oh, I love that. I love the rush, knowing I'm awakening those pretty, pain-filled pleasures in them. I looked at Columbia, nekkid on the cross, and relished the thought of those shoulders, bare to do with what I pleased. I wrapped my hand in her jet hair, and pulled, tight and firm. I bit into the top of her shoulder, above her collarbone, wide and hard. And I felt the protectiveness well up in me, the caring. The profound knowledge that I have responsibility for this creature, that she's trusting me to hurt her, to push her, and to bring her through safely. I stared in wonder at her hair, the curves of her back and ass, open to me. When I top, that's what I want to feel. That wonder, at the gift I'm given. That enthusiasm for giving sensation. The profound satisfaction in the care and safety I provide.
I am, I believe, still primarily a bottom. But it was interesting to find what triggers the top in me, what pushes me to lose myself in action rather than reaction. And to observe how I top, what my goals and feelings about it are. Mm.
After I left Columbia and RHF's place, Apollo and I went to meet Church Goth Boy, hereafter Eldil, and his wife, hereafter Pomona, for dinner and gaming. Pizza, wine, ice cream and Munchkin made for a lovely night...then Eldil took me to his room (not like that you perverse people) to see the flogger he offered to loan to me (he found out, over lunch one day, that I was kinky and eager to learn to perform the skills I enjoy receiving). It's pretty. It's purple, and not too light, not too harsh. Not quite as spongy and thuddy as I'd like - but it'll do very well for a practice flogger.
Then he asked me, "How do you feel about collars?" "Um, well, I've only worn one once, for a very short time, when I was at my friend's house and she was showing me, very informally, all her tools...but they're something I'd like to explore..." Next thing I know, he's pulling a very plain black leather collar out of the closet, and telling me to turn around and lift my hair. As he fastens the collar and locks it, I feel the weight of subspace start to descend. Eldil is not a playmate. Since, to my knowledge, he is not poly, he will never be a playmate. As such, I should probably not let him put a collar on me again, even so informally. The weight descended, and my latent attraction to him rose. He commented on the fact that it fit me perfectly, where it's not quite right for Pomona, and proceeded to remark that I now had something new to wear to the upcoming fetish event.
"Oh...er, I don't want to appear as though I'm actually collared," I said. Really...I don't want to look as though I'm off-limits - that might spoil potential fun! "Well, you could turn the collar around so that the D-ring is out of sight, or you could attach a chain to the D-ring, then attach it to your own wrist, showing that you own yourself." My immediate reaction to this was, "That's what a fluffy sub would do! Someone who just wants to wear the pretties, not walk the walk that goes with them." But I've been thinking. I really like the idea, at this point in my exploration, of the collar, of my collar being first and foremost about my sovereignty over myself. My right to say where and how and to whom I give myself (of course, this is tied, at a higher level, to spirituality, with my first binding and commitment being to Deity - and I give myself in accordance with Her wishes for me). When I put it on myself, I am signaling that I am in control. When I permit someone else to put my collar on me (if I permit it - I have not yet decided), I have given that control willingly into their hands for a fixed time, a scene. I am not ready to commit my collar into the control of any one person, any one lover. Granted, once offered, any lover to whom it is offered will have the option to use it or not, as they see fit...but they are not the sole owners/users of my collar.
I feel, on some level, that I'm misusing the symbol that is the collar by making it about my own control and sovereignty (under Deity, of course). This, though, stems more from my fear of public opinion and what others will think about "that sub who owns herself" or "that sub who carries the key to her own collar" than about any personal objections. Hm. I'd appreciate thoughts on this.
On the note of personal sovereignty, a word about the Magician. In the midst of my kinky exploration, there is RHF and my Lovely Long Distance Friend/Mentor who are very much helping me explore what my submissive side is all about, helping me feel out my boundaries for giving up control, and helping me relish the sensation of surrender. By contrast, the Magician doesn't play power games. They don't interest or amuse him. He is all about sensation, and, more relevantly, about asking for what you want. In that sense, he is all about personal sovereignty and owning your own desires. And while it might be strange that I care so much for such diametrically opposed relationships, I care for them precisely because they are so different. They are causing me to grow in equally important, wonderful ways. RHF and My Mentor push me to learn about endurance, about giving up control, about taking what I'm given, and serving another's pleasure. The Magician pushes me to name my own desire, to search myself and ask boldly for what I want. He pushes me to find my voice, so often silenced in arousal, to give words to the longings in my heart and cunt. I am so very grateful to have this sort of balance in my life, in my exploration.
Showing posts with label submission. Show all posts
Showing posts with label submission. Show all posts
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Friday, May 2, 2008
"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!
"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!
Friday, January 4, 2008
In Which Joy Muses on Bisexuality
I've mentioned previously that I think I have a harder time thinking of myself as "bisexual" than it is for Apollo to think of me as such. Granted, the events of this week have made a lot of what I was going to say in this post much less relevant and made me feel much more "qualified" to use that label, but still. It's been an interesting adjustment.
When I came to the conclusion that I wanted physical relationships with women, it was something of a cool realization, rather than a burning epiphany. I was thinking over my longings for a poly-relationship, on the intimacy-with-friends line, and suddenly it just didn't seem right that I couldn't share that level of physical intimacy with my women friends. I mean, I experience love and affection most profoundly through touch - that's the root of my desire to broaden my sexual partners to include those I treasure, not just the one I live with. It seemed, to me, to devalue my relationships with women if I said, "I am willing to be loved and love in this way, to this depth, with my men friends, but not with my women friends." Likewise, I had been struggling with my conception of the Sacred Feminine, of God'dess, God as Woman. She didn't seem as tangible, as real and accessible as my God. I addressed her as Mother, as Friend, as Sister...but none of these were as visceral an image as my favorite image of my God - my Holy Lover. Suddenly, bisexuality became a bit of a spiritual necessity. When She became my Lover as well - well, damn. It just made sense. So there was no secretly harbored crush, no deep-seated attractions to women - just a realization that it makes sense for me. Granted, I have always liked androgyny, in men and women, but I was attracted to the androgynous women because they looked like pretty boys (of course, I realize this could be self-delusion here...that may have been the only psychologically safe way for me to rationalize my attraction at all). Even now, I don't experience the same random lust for a lovely, attractive woman that I can experience for an equally attractive man. The women I want, really Want are those with whom I already have a touch-relationship - we already are comfortable and loving enough to hug, to rub backs, to play with hair. But, oh, I do want them pretty badly. And my God'dess? Well, I've known for awhile that I'm the sub in a holy D/s relationship (forthcoming post on my crackpot ideas about D/s and spirituality/courtly love)...but now I have Two Owners (though, of course, really I only have One, but still). And she's gorgeous.
When I came to the conclusion that I wanted physical relationships with women, it was something of a cool realization, rather than a burning epiphany. I was thinking over my longings for a poly-relationship, on the intimacy-with-friends line, and suddenly it just didn't seem right that I couldn't share that level of physical intimacy with my women friends. I mean, I experience love and affection most profoundly through touch - that's the root of my desire to broaden my sexual partners to include those I treasure, not just the one I live with. It seemed, to me, to devalue my relationships with women if I said, "I am willing to be loved and love in this way, to this depth, with my men friends, but not with my women friends." Likewise, I had been struggling with my conception of the Sacred Feminine, of God'dess, God as Woman. She didn't seem as tangible, as real and accessible as my God. I addressed her as Mother, as Friend, as Sister...but none of these were as visceral an image as my favorite image of my God - my Holy Lover. Suddenly, bisexuality became a bit of a spiritual necessity. When She became my Lover as well - well, damn. It just made sense. So there was no secretly harbored crush, no deep-seated attractions to women - just a realization that it makes sense for me. Granted, I have always liked androgyny, in men and women, but I was attracted to the androgynous women because they looked like pretty boys (of course, I realize this could be self-delusion here...that may have been the only psychologically safe way for me to rationalize my attraction at all). Even now, I don't experience the same random lust for a lovely, attractive woman that I can experience for an equally attractive man. The women I want, really Want are those with whom I already have a touch-relationship - we already are comfortable and loving enough to hug, to rub backs, to play with hair. But, oh, I do want them pretty badly. And my God'dess? Well, I've known for awhile that I'm the sub in a holy D/s relationship (forthcoming post on my crackpot ideas about D/s and spirituality/courtly love)...but now I have Two Owners (though, of course, really I only have One, but still). And she's gorgeous.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Happy New Year!
...The Sexy, College-Town Remix.
So, my holiday plans involved taking one week of my Winter Break (I love being a grad student!) and going home, seeing family and friends there, and then departing to spend New Years Week in my Undergraduate Town, and the metropolitan area 30 miles to the north of it. That first week, of necessity, has no truly sexy stories associated with it. This week, however, has been full of Exploratory Sexual Goodness.
**I realize that there are lots of names with no descriptions or context in this post. I will make a Lovers of Joy page detailing my Usual Suspects very soon. Promise.
Sunday, December 30th:
Arrived in College Town and went to Imladris, home of the Hobbit Ladies (who do not have hairy feet - but they resemble hobbits in their love for good food, good alcohol, and questionable smokeables). There has been a long-standing attraction tween me and them, so when I found myself naked between them, slightly fuzzy-headed from the pipeweed, it wasn't a huge surprise. What was surprising was how...clumsy and inept I feel when dealing with women's bodies. In the moment, I could not for the life of me think of any particular techniques used on me in the past. Fortunately, their lovely breasts seemed to respond nicely to my amateur efforts. I was also reminded of the fact that women are (in my experience to this point) infinitely better than men when it comes to fingering (though, from all accounts, Jefferson has a special way with that Special Spot.).
Quick sidenote: I get off on penetration. Like, a lot. Oh, I love my clitoris, don't get me wrong...but the orgasms are so different, acute and defined and short. I love the long rolling, peaking and plateauing of G-spot orgasms. I love my incoherence afterwards.
Anyway. Lovely, long night with the HLs. Still did not get my fingers or tongue into their nethers - I'm painfully shy and nervous about giving pleasure to women - but they helped each other, and much fun was had by all.
Monday, December 31st:
Went to the House of the Spider Woman for a La Vie Boheme NYE party. No particularly explicit stories this night, but I met a girl who had had surface piercings in her back, had done suspensions, was into shibari, and had an amazing set of nails. I also cuddled with the Cuddle Owl, who was newly single and thus much more willing to share his amazing hugs and backrubs. My Qabbalist Water Brother (QWB) cried over my present to her - a collage Tree of Life - and nuzzled and nibbled and generally made me a happy Joy. The Spider Woman was resplendent in her Mimi-inspired outfit, and in high teasing form. Shakti informed me that her partner, DragonCat, was "curious" and wanted to join us for my planned sleepover at Shakti's place the following night. As DragonCat is one of the most adorable men on the planet (and Apollo and I had already discussed this possibility a few nights ago when we found ourselves in a "Who do you want to fuck from College Town?" discussion) I assured her that I would be more than happy to have him there.
Tuesday, January 1st:
Awoke at the House of the Spider Woman. Headed to the QWB's place for afternoon hanging out. I had mentioned my unexplored submissive tendencies to her, as well as my fascination with kink, knowing her to identify as a Domme. She, beautiful creature that she is, was very willing to help me explore, in a non-sexual context, as she is deliberately celibate. Sadly, though, she lost a childhood friend at the beginning of the month, and thus felt mentally and emotionally unable to offer me a formal "session". However, (and this was probably even better) she generously showed me her tools and demonstrated their uses on me in an informal context. This means that I experienced: a whip, used several different ways, through my clothes; hot wax on my stomach; different sorts of non-cutting knife strokes on my belly and forearm; and perhaps most profoundly, the weight of a collar and cuffs. These were decorated with large and numerous spikes - which would not be my choice - but the feeling of that weight on me was something I knew I wanted to experience again. After they were removed, and the demonstration was over, I stood up from her couch and thought "I feel a little drunk. But I have not had a drink. Hee!" We also talked, seriously and happily, about my sexual journey, our lives, and things spiritual and intellectual. But this is the sexblog *grins*.
From there, I headed to Shakti's place. When I got there, she and DragonCat were eating homemade pizza. We sat, catching up on the events of each other's lives, while they finished dinner. My stomach was home to a whole nest of butterflies - I really didn't *know* DragonCat all that well, but he's one of those people who simply radiate comfort and trust and safety. There was not a question in my mind that I would be safe, treasured, and respected by these two people. But...still. I was minutes away from kissing a HOT man and from (I had decided) finally getting acquainted with another woman's cunt. I was nervous. Fortunately, Shakti is incredibly good at easing into these situations without pretense or awkwardness. We migrated to the bedroom, where tickle wars ensued and DragonCat giggled and wriggled when he realized that I slip into CatTalk (TM) when I'm feeling playful (he and Shakti have whole conversations in mrows and mews). Soon after this, Shakti decides that she needs to go take a shower, and orders us to "cuddle amongst yourselves" in her absence. Now, DragonCat is a 5-star Cuddleslut. At any party, he will be draped over/have draped over him at least two women, if not more. This is never sexual - he's just got an infinite capacity for cuddles. Knowing this, I curl right up to him, and we sink into a comfortable, silent touching.
His hands. Oh my. His hands. We were not overtly sexual yet, but every touch of his was pure affection, pure joy in the skin of my belly, the curve of my hip. I felt holy. I felt that he was both worshiper and god to my goddess and devotee. I eventually found my voice to remark about how much I'd wanted to cuddle with him at the NYE party, but that I couldn't bear to interrupt his cuddling with the blissed-out girl who stayed attached to him the whole night - she looked as though she needed it. This launched some small talk, which concluded with him remarking that as much as he loves cuddling, it's "always hard for me to not play with the boobies. They...they're just there and so appealing." "Well, you don't have to worry about that with me," I said. Gentle, so gentle and so hot. And his kisses were meltingly sweet, soft, and intense. Shakti returned from her shower to see us making out, bare to the waist. Since she was already naked, DragonCat and I followed suit. What followed was a delicious exercise in Taking Turns. They began, like the generous souls and good hosts they are, by thoroughly exploring my body and Shakti fingering me into my first set of orgasms for the evening. Soon after, I found myself rolling through my second set as Shakti and I clung to each other in shared bliss while DragonCat fingered both of us and broke my Girls Finger Better Than Boys rule. After recovering from that for a few moments, Shakti diplomatically asked DragonCat what he'd like to do. He wiggled with excitement (like a cat about to spring, thus earning him the second part of his name), and flicked his tongue suggestively. "Would you like to do that to Joy?" Shakti asked. More wiggling accompanied by nodding. "Well, pull up a chair, then!" I took this as a figurative invitation to lay back and settle in for some prolonged, amazing cunnilingus. DragonCat took this more literally, and actually pulled a chair up to the edge of the bed.
Now, I've heard of men who Genuinely Love going down on girls. I've always been fortunate to find men who at least like it, like making women squirm and moan, and are pretty damn good at it. But, at our last encounter, Shakti definitely instituted a Girls Give Oral Better Than Boys standard. DragonCat breaks this, too. It sounds cliche, but he treated my cunt like an oasis in a desert. I felt like I was the "flower in the desert, water in the dry lands" for him, a source of endless wonder of which he could never be bored. It wasn't a preface to anything "more important", not an appetizer or a bit of foreplay - this was Sex. After he finally came up for air, and allowed me to do the same, Shakti asked me, "Have you had the chance to play with a woman yet?" "No..." "Do you want to?" "Yes..." After playing with her breasts, trying to pay attention to her reactions, to figure out what worked best (no, I don't over-intellectualize things!), and admiring the beauty of her more prominent nipples, one hand drifted towards her mons. But I hesitated. I didn't want to go in blindly, so to speak. I was so scared of doing something wrong - I needed to see what I was doing. "Do you want to look at me?"she asked (she says I think loudly. I can't refute this.).
I moved myself to kneeling between her legs, and looked at her. Browner than me, she was, though still pinkish. I then noticed DragonCat at my side, with his beautiful, open grin. "He wants to watch," Shakti said. I almost had an attack of "Sex is not a performance! I refuse to put on a show!" (which...I realize that for some people that's part of it, and that's wonderful and cool...but I get anxious when I feel like I'm performing. See my upcoming post on oral sex.) but DragonCat was so nonjudgmental and supportive that I didn't feel like he was watching porn, but rather lending moral support. Truth to tell, I was eventually pretty glad of his presence beside me. I parted her lips and gazed, probing experimentally until I found everything I was looking for - surveying the terrain, so to speak. Her vagina looked so dark, so deep. It looked like it did have the potential for holding worlds, for being the primal place of Beginnings and Birth. I decided to start with her clit - it seemed at little less...intimidating. I learned that direct stimulation is too much, but that above, below and beside are effective and wonderful. I learned that I, too, can give women orgasms, and that holding down a woman's thigh and belly while you stroke her to ecstasy is a profound and beautiful pleasure. After a time, I moved down, and cautiously inserted a fingertip. She was So. Wet. So warm. So soft. I inserted my index finger, and beckoned. Ahh..response...and a little to the right evoked an even stronger response. This was *much* easier than figuring out the breasts, or even the clit. I pressed up in fast, small pulses - and Shakti screamed. Wow. I added another finger, noting the snugness of her, and tried for a second scream. Instead I got a "Honey, be careful of your nails." Ooops...lesson learned. So I backed off for a moment, contemplating, screwing my courage to the sticking point, before leaning in and touching my tongue to her clit. Shakti is a natural goddess, so I soon found that it is difficult to breathe when one's nose is pressed into luscious pubic hair. Even more difficult when said goddess starts writhing (not that I minded this, you understand). DragonCat helped steady both the Shakti and me, holding us both in place. I got that second scream.
The rest of the night was spent playing with DragonCat's cock, and playing out one of Shakti's fantasies - DragonCat fucked her doggy-style while she buried her face in me. After, she announced that "Shakti is broken! and needs to sleep!", so we all piled onto the queen-sized bed, with DragonCat in the middle. Shakti dropped right off, which led DragonCat to cuddle up to me and (we were all sleeping naked), begin to make it very difficult for me not to disturb Shakti with either sounds or fierce movements. I was tired. Fuck, was I tired. I hadn't had much sleep the night before, and had just been thoroughly worn out. But I cannot resist that man's hands and mouth: "I can't believe your hands and mouth did all of that to me. And they are so daily naked for all the world to see." ("Rexroth's Daughter"). Eventually, however, he let up and we did go to sleep. When Shakti left early in the morning for work, though, it all began again. Now that we didn't have to keep quiet or still, he looked at me and said, "You want to 69?" "Err...I tend not to do it because it requires multitasking...and I never have the presence of mind. But...I'm willing to try it! Or we could just take turns..." He decided that we'd try it...and it seemed to work out fairly well. At least, well, he didn't complain. And I can't either. I still don't know how people give an effective blowjob with someone's mouth on their cunt, but I did my best. When my jaw was to tired to continue (my stamina is pitiful. Sad.), he brought me to another series of orgasms with his incredible fingers. After which we promptly fell back asleep. When we awoke, we made out slowly, sweetly until he said, sadly, "You know, I kind of wish we could do everything." I nodded, "It's alright. Wait..you do mean that Shakti isn't ok with us having intercourse, right?" Because if you think I'm not ok with it, buddy, you've got another think coming! "Yes," he said. "Ok. That's fine. But I'm still allowed to give you an orgasm, right?" "Oh yes. Oral's fine, just no 'actual sex'". So I went down on him. I am no blow-job queen - Wendy and Avah would shame my ass back to the South if I ever tried to compete with them. But I gave it my best effort. After a goodly time, I crept back up into his arms, feeling slightly disappointed with myself. "Yeah...I don't often come from oral. Or from anything apart from masturbation or 'actual sex'...I guess I should've said that beforehand...but it was still amazing." Ok. I'm ok with that. I want my lovers to be fulfilled, and if orgasm isn't necessarily a part of that, I am perfectly alright with that. We went back to cuddling and kissing, until I realized that I was overdue for my afternoon hanging out with another friend. It is incredibly difficult to get back into clothes when a beautiful, lanky man is perpetually ready to love your naked body and distract you with kisses. But I managed.
Part two to perhaps follow, if anything notable happens in the next few days!
So, my holiday plans involved taking one week of my Winter Break (I love being a grad student!) and going home, seeing family and friends there, and then departing to spend New Years Week in my Undergraduate Town, and the metropolitan area 30 miles to the north of it. That first week, of necessity, has no truly sexy stories associated with it. This week, however, has been full of Exploratory Sexual Goodness.
**I realize that there are lots of names with no descriptions or context in this post. I will make a Lovers of Joy page detailing my Usual Suspects very soon. Promise.
Sunday, December 30th:
Arrived in College Town and went to Imladris, home of the Hobbit Ladies (who do not have hairy feet - but they resemble hobbits in their love for good food, good alcohol, and questionable smokeables). There has been a long-standing attraction tween me and them, so when I found myself naked between them, slightly fuzzy-headed from the pipeweed, it wasn't a huge surprise. What was surprising was how...clumsy and inept I feel when dealing with women's bodies. In the moment, I could not for the life of me think of any particular techniques used on me in the past. Fortunately, their lovely breasts seemed to respond nicely to my amateur efforts. I was also reminded of the fact that women are (in my experience to this point) infinitely better than men when it comes to fingering (though, from all accounts, Jefferson has a special way with that Special Spot.).
Quick sidenote: I get off on penetration. Like, a lot. Oh, I love my clitoris, don't get me wrong...but the orgasms are so different, acute and defined and short. I love the long rolling, peaking and plateauing of G-spot orgasms. I love my incoherence afterwards.
Anyway. Lovely, long night with the HLs. Still did not get my fingers or tongue into their nethers - I'm painfully shy and nervous about giving pleasure to women - but they helped each other, and much fun was had by all.
Monday, December 31st:
Went to the House of the Spider Woman for a La Vie Boheme NYE party. No particularly explicit stories this night, but I met a girl who had had surface piercings in her back, had done suspensions, was into shibari, and had an amazing set of nails. I also cuddled with the Cuddle Owl, who was newly single and thus much more willing to share his amazing hugs and backrubs. My Qabbalist Water Brother (QWB) cried over my present to her - a collage Tree of Life - and nuzzled and nibbled and generally made me a happy Joy. The Spider Woman was resplendent in her Mimi-inspired outfit, and in high teasing form. Shakti informed me that her partner, DragonCat, was "curious" and wanted to join us for my planned sleepover at Shakti's place the following night. As DragonCat is one of the most adorable men on the planet (and Apollo and I had already discussed this possibility a few nights ago when we found ourselves in a "Who do you want to fuck from College Town?" discussion) I assured her that I would be more than happy to have him there.
Tuesday, January 1st:
Awoke at the House of the Spider Woman. Headed to the QWB's place for afternoon hanging out. I had mentioned my unexplored submissive tendencies to her, as well as my fascination with kink, knowing her to identify as a Domme. She, beautiful creature that she is, was very willing to help me explore, in a non-sexual context, as she is deliberately celibate. Sadly, though, she lost a childhood friend at the beginning of the month, and thus felt mentally and emotionally unable to offer me a formal "session". However, (and this was probably even better) she generously showed me her tools and demonstrated their uses on me in an informal context. This means that I experienced: a whip, used several different ways, through my clothes; hot wax on my stomach; different sorts of non-cutting knife strokes on my belly and forearm; and perhaps most profoundly, the weight of a collar and cuffs. These were decorated with large and numerous spikes - which would not be my choice - but the feeling of that weight on me was something I knew I wanted to experience again. After they were removed, and the demonstration was over, I stood up from her couch and thought "I feel a little drunk. But I have not had a drink. Hee!" We also talked, seriously and happily, about my sexual journey, our lives, and things spiritual and intellectual. But this is the sexblog *grins*.
From there, I headed to Shakti's place. When I got there, she and DragonCat were eating homemade pizza. We sat, catching up on the events of each other's lives, while they finished dinner. My stomach was home to a whole nest of butterflies - I really didn't *know* DragonCat all that well, but he's one of those people who simply radiate comfort and trust and safety. There was not a question in my mind that I would be safe, treasured, and respected by these two people. But...still. I was minutes away from kissing a HOT man and from (I had decided) finally getting acquainted with another woman's cunt. I was nervous. Fortunately, Shakti is incredibly good at easing into these situations without pretense or awkwardness. We migrated to the bedroom, where tickle wars ensued and DragonCat giggled and wriggled when he realized that I slip into CatTalk (TM) when I'm feeling playful (he and Shakti have whole conversations in mrows and mews). Soon after this, Shakti decides that she needs to go take a shower, and orders us to "cuddle amongst yourselves" in her absence. Now, DragonCat is a 5-star Cuddleslut. At any party, he will be draped over/have draped over him at least two women, if not more. This is never sexual - he's just got an infinite capacity for cuddles. Knowing this, I curl right up to him, and we sink into a comfortable, silent touching.
His hands. Oh my. His hands. We were not overtly sexual yet, but every touch of his was pure affection, pure joy in the skin of my belly, the curve of my hip. I felt holy. I felt that he was both worshiper and god to my goddess and devotee. I eventually found my voice to remark about how much I'd wanted to cuddle with him at the NYE party, but that I couldn't bear to interrupt his cuddling with the blissed-out girl who stayed attached to him the whole night - she looked as though she needed it. This launched some small talk, which concluded with him remarking that as much as he loves cuddling, it's "always hard for me to not play with the boobies. They...they're just there and so appealing." "Well, you don't have to worry about that with me," I said. Gentle, so gentle and so hot. And his kisses were meltingly sweet, soft, and intense. Shakti returned from her shower to see us making out, bare to the waist. Since she was already naked, DragonCat and I followed suit. What followed was a delicious exercise in Taking Turns. They began, like the generous souls and good hosts they are, by thoroughly exploring my body and Shakti fingering me into my first set of orgasms for the evening. Soon after, I found myself rolling through my second set as Shakti and I clung to each other in shared bliss while DragonCat fingered both of us and broke my Girls Finger Better Than Boys rule. After recovering from that for a few moments, Shakti diplomatically asked DragonCat what he'd like to do. He wiggled with excitement (like a cat about to spring, thus earning him the second part of his name), and flicked his tongue suggestively. "Would you like to do that to Joy?" Shakti asked. More wiggling accompanied by nodding. "Well, pull up a chair, then!" I took this as a figurative invitation to lay back and settle in for some prolonged, amazing cunnilingus. DragonCat took this more literally, and actually pulled a chair up to the edge of the bed.
Now, I've heard of men who Genuinely Love going down on girls. I've always been fortunate to find men who at least like it, like making women squirm and moan, and are pretty damn good at it. But, at our last encounter, Shakti definitely instituted a Girls Give Oral Better Than Boys standard. DragonCat breaks this, too. It sounds cliche, but he treated my cunt like an oasis in a desert. I felt like I was the "flower in the desert, water in the dry lands" for him, a source of endless wonder of which he could never be bored. It wasn't a preface to anything "more important", not an appetizer or a bit of foreplay - this was Sex. After he finally came up for air, and allowed me to do the same, Shakti asked me, "Have you had the chance to play with a woman yet?" "No..." "Do you want to?" "Yes..." After playing with her breasts, trying to pay attention to her reactions, to figure out what worked best (no, I don't over-intellectualize things!), and admiring the beauty of her more prominent nipples, one hand drifted towards her mons. But I hesitated. I didn't want to go in blindly, so to speak. I was so scared of doing something wrong - I needed to see what I was doing. "Do you want to look at me?"she asked (she says I think loudly. I can't refute this.).
I moved myself to kneeling between her legs, and looked at her. Browner than me, she was, though still pinkish. I then noticed DragonCat at my side, with his beautiful, open grin. "He wants to watch," Shakti said. I almost had an attack of "Sex is not a performance! I refuse to put on a show!" (which...I realize that for some people that's part of it, and that's wonderful and cool...but I get anxious when I feel like I'm performing. See my upcoming post on oral sex.) but DragonCat was so nonjudgmental and supportive that I didn't feel like he was watching porn, but rather lending moral support. Truth to tell, I was eventually pretty glad of his presence beside me. I parted her lips and gazed, probing experimentally until I found everything I was looking for - surveying the terrain, so to speak. Her vagina looked so dark, so deep. It looked like it did have the potential for holding worlds, for being the primal place of Beginnings and Birth. I decided to start with her clit - it seemed at little less...intimidating. I learned that direct stimulation is too much, but that above, below and beside are effective and wonderful. I learned that I, too, can give women orgasms, and that holding down a woman's thigh and belly while you stroke her to ecstasy is a profound and beautiful pleasure. After a time, I moved down, and cautiously inserted a fingertip. She was So. Wet. So warm. So soft. I inserted my index finger, and beckoned. Ahh..response...and a little to the right evoked an even stronger response. This was *much* easier than figuring out the breasts, or even the clit. I pressed up in fast, small pulses - and Shakti screamed. Wow. I added another finger, noting the snugness of her, and tried for a second scream. Instead I got a "Honey, be careful of your nails." Ooops...lesson learned. So I backed off for a moment, contemplating, screwing my courage to the sticking point, before leaning in and touching my tongue to her clit. Shakti is a natural goddess, so I soon found that it is difficult to breathe when one's nose is pressed into luscious pubic hair. Even more difficult when said goddess starts writhing (not that I minded this, you understand). DragonCat helped steady both the Shakti and me, holding us both in place. I got that second scream.
The rest of the night was spent playing with DragonCat's cock, and playing out one of Shakti's fantasies - DragonCat fucked her doggy-style while she buried her face in me. After, she announced that "Shakti is broken! and needs to sleep!", so we all piled onto the queen-sized bed, with DragonCat in the middle. Shakti dropped right off, which led DragonCat to cuddle up to me and (we were all sleeping naked), begin to make it very difficult for me not to disturb Shakti with either sounds or fierce movements. I was tired. Fuck, was I tired. I hadn't had much sleep the night before, and had just been thoroughly worn out. But I cannot resist that man's hands and mouth: "I can't believe your hands and mouth did all of that to me. And they are so daily naked for all the world to see." ("Rexroth's Daughter"). Eventually, however, he let up and we did go to sleep. When Shakti left early in the morning for work, though, it all began again. Now that we didn't have to keep quiet or still, he looked at me and said, "You want to 69?" "Err...I tend not to do it because it requires multitasking...and I never have the presence of mind. But...I'm willing to try it! Or we could just take turns..." He decided that we'd try it...and it seemed to work out fairly well. At least, well, he didn't complain. And I can't either. I still don't know how people give an effective blowjob with someone's mouth on their cunt, but I did my best. When my jaw was to tired to continue (my stamina is pitiful. Sad.), he brought me to another series of orgasms with his incredible fingers. After which we promptly fell back asleep. When we awoke, we made out slowly, sweetly until he said, sadly, "You know, I kind of wish we could do everything." I nodded, "It's alright. Wait..you do mean that Shakti isn't ok with us having intercourse, right?" Because if you think I'm not ok with it, buddy, you've got another think coming! "Yes," he said. "Ok. That's fine. But I'm still allowed to give you an orgasm, right?" "Oh yes. Oral's fine, just no 'actual sex'". So I went down on him. I am no blow-job queen - Wendy and Avah would shame my ass back to the South if I ever tried to compete with them. But I gave it my best effort. After a goodly time, I crept back up into his arms, feeling slightly disappointed with myself. "Yeah...I don't often come from oral. Or from anything apart from masturbation or 'actual sex'...I guess I should've said that beforehand...but it was still amazing." Ok. I'm ok with that. I want my lovers to be fulfilled, and if orgasm isn't necessarily a part of that, I am perfectly alright with that. We went back to cuddling and kissing, until I realized that I was overdue for my afternoon hanging out with another friend. It is incredibly difficult to get back into clothes when a beautiful, lanky man is perpetually ready to love your naked body and distract you with kisses. But I managed.
Part two to perhaps follow, if anything notable happens in the next few days!
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