Thursday, October 28, 2010

Monday, briefly


I arranged to meet Mister Sean, a man I met in passing during camp, at a seafood restaurant near where he lives. I was in the mood for raw oysters.

After our meal and extensive conversation, in which he teased me mercilessly, we headed back to his home. I must say, I am so jealous of his domicile. It is a shinning example of how adults live: large living room, large television, excellent back yard with a covered back porch, and, the best part, a dungeon I didn't want to leave.

Once at his home, we breezed through photos of the party he and his partner, xoel, held the night before. I hope to make their next get together, whenever that may be. In the photos, I noticed one person in particular. I made a mental note to ask about him later.

Soon we stopped beating around the bush and started playing. He asked me to kneel down on the floor. He cuffed my hands and told me to undress and place my clothes on the chair in the corner. When I no longer could, due to the cuffs, he unlocked them and I finished. He watched as I did this. I took care to fold my clothes as best I could.

He put a ball gag on me, explaining his safeword system and what I should do in case something went wrong.

Once again in the kneeling position, this time my face on the floor, he moved a different chair over and had me sit in it. Securing my legs and arms with straps, he proceeded to put me in precarious circumstances. Securing clips to my vaginal lips, he then ran string from the clips, around my big toes, and back to the clips.

"You know what happens if you move your toes."

He then moved onto my nipples, which he also ran string through, this time looping around the back of the chair and hooking to my nostrils.

"You know what happens if you move your head."

But just as he was finishing adjusting the lines, a severe cramp raced through my right calf. He freed my leg and tried to massage it away, but not one minute back into place, the cramp crept to my thigh. That was it for the chair. He informed me I would pay for interrupting the scene later.

Back kneeling on the floor, new gag in because I kept pushing the previous one out with my teeth, he buckled manacles to my hands and clipped them above my head. He smacked my face and pulled a hood over it. That's when the stings began, sharp and painful. First he went after my breasts, traded back and forth which one he would hurt. Then he started hitting my thighs, my arms, then back to my breasts. I think he even got in a few shots on my feet and a few on my vag. In a final flourish, he just kept going back and forth on my breasts, to when I finally had to call out a slow down.

Removing the gag, I breathlessly moaned I just needed a minute.

Putting what had been a small metal object away, he pulled out a roll of cellophane and ripped off a small piece. He slowly walked over and placed the plastic over my face. It took only a moment before I started to squirm. He held me for a few seconds, then pulled away the cellophane so I could breath. He did this another half dozen times. Once, I had finally learned to push out all my breath and hold it, calm and still with his hand over my face. I, in fact, held it so long, he thought I was breathing. But just a few seconds after his statement, I wriggled to try to get away again.

Finished with the cellophane, he grabbed me by my wrist and drew my body against his, the first time he'd been so close since the scene had started. He turned my face to his and kissed me. He spanked me once, twice. Then he whispered in my ear, "I've been wanting to play with your ass." He scratched me up and down my back. His hand reached down to my clit and he felt how wet I was. "You are so wet. You're such a dirty little slut. When did I start making you wet, you dirty little slut? When? When? Answer me."

"When I first saw you outside the restaurant," I said.

The hood went back on and he told me, "Spread open your cunt." I heard the buzz of the Hitachi and tried to move my legs apart. I felt the vibrator between my legs, but he couldn't get to my clit. "I told you to spread open your cunt." I tried moving my legs apart. "Oh no, too late now." I felt him wrap manacles around my ankles and heard the click of the spreader bar. "Next time you'll spread your cunt open when I tell you to."

He once again went at my clit with the Hitachi. This time he found it easily. I leaned into the vibrator and could feel my body reacting.

"Don't you cum. No one comes in this dungeon without permission."

I began to squirm away. I tried to get away from the pleasure. I tried to hold back. I felt him push me back onto his large X/cross. With a belt around my torso and a belt around my hips, he held me place. He again used the Hitachi. I tried to squirm out; it was torturous holding back my body's reaction.

He turned the vibrator off and rested on the futon for a moment.

"Sir, my hands are turning numb."

"Don't call me Sir."

"I'm sorry, what should I call you?"

"What's my name?"

"Mister Sean. Sorry, Si...Mister Sean."

He released my hands from the manacles. Pins and needles set in. He let me stand and rest for a few minutes. He then unbelted me from the X and I knealt once again. After a moment, he led me to the swing. "Bet you can guess what we're going to do next." He eased my ankles into the hanging stirrups. He put on some rubber gloves and sat on a stool in front of my very open vagina. He handed me the Hitachi.

"Use your toy if you want to."

He slipped his fingers in. He worked in slowly. He used more fingers. He went deeper. I had already started to moan loudly. I finally started to use te vibrator.

"You can cum."

I came, long and hard. I cried. He stopped when he saw. I explained it was a good thing. He did it again. I continued to cry. He kept going til I could take no more. He got his entire fist in.

Afterwards, he gave me a bottle of water to sip. He said that was enough for our first playdate. He helped me out of the swing. He wrapped me in a soft comforter and sat me on the futon. Xoel, his partner, came home.

We all chatted. I asked about the man in the photos, Mr Black Beard. I was disappointed when didn't come over. I decided I would say hi later.

Mister Sean was tired. Xoel was hungry. He went to bed. We got sushi. She covered for me. I listened to her stories. I liked her facial expressions. The food was delicious. We walked back to the house. I hugged her bye.

So much for "briefly".

Friday, October 15, 2010


Being in my late twenties, my mother has come to view me more like a friend.  Or, at least, she speaks to me that way.  Unfortunately, or hilariously, depending on the situation, this leads to interesting conversations.

Today we had one that made me nauseous.

In brief: my mother almost married my elementary school principle, and we almost moved to Kentucky. 

Correct me if I'm wrong, but this sounds like the plot of a chessy comedy. 

At the time, I was five or six years old, so I have no recollection of any of the examples she gave: the three of us out to dinner; the Easter weekend she went to Kentucky to meet his family; the new wardrobe he bought her.

I don't think it's disgusting because of his age.  Already having a father 22 years older than my mother would have transitioned me nicely to having a step-father 33 years older than my mother.  And school wouldn't have been an issue, seeing as he planned to move us out of state, and, I assume, me into a school he wasn't running.

No, the disgust was because it was my principle, my hairy, old, mean, crotchety principle.  According to my mother, he was a perfect gentleman.  "I'll never do anything so I couldn't look your father in the eye," my mother quoted him.  (Oh God, I think he was probably my grandfather's age.)  In my youth, he, along with all my other teachers, doted on me.  But the idea of coming home everyday to this man in my house, this man being my father, and my mother and him, dare I even type it, having sex...

I just gagged a little.

As if I don't already have a wealth of family drama to write about, this would have been a whole book. 

But, it didn't happen.  On my Mom's trip to Kentucky, his family rejected her.  They thought she was too young, being the same age as his children.  His previous wife had passed away, and, I suppose, they didn't want him replacing her.  He wanted to keep his family happy, even though it seems he cared for my Mom.  She avoided him at my school, which I attended for another six years.  He was nice to me; I got good grades and was never a discipline problem. 

I suppose, in all this, along with my dry heaves, I feel very sad for my Mom.  Her life could have been so different, so much better.  I know my Mom could have used his loving support, seeing as her relationship with my father most likely wasn't healthy.  And my principle had money, so I doubt she would've worried about bills ever again. 

The only reason she brought it up at all is because he died this past summer; she didn't learn about it til last week.  Time drew our lives apart from his.  And, even though we tried to keep in touch with my elementary school, a small family of people we knew and loved for so many years, time has a way of distancing all things.

She'll want to visit the school sometime soon.  I hope it will be good for her.  Me, I'll go because she wants to.  But I have a feeling they won't know how to react to one of their star pupils showing up with a rocker style haircut, tattoos, and a tongue ring. 

Boy, how kids grow up so fast these day.

Thursday, October 14, 2010


To me it seems obvious, as if a part of breathing, a fact so important to me I cannot live a life without it.  And yet, I am in the minority.

In a world with six billion people, all with different lives and experiences, personalities and bodies to explore, I can never be in a closed relationship again.  I came to my realization that sex does not in fact equal love when, low and behold, I was attracted to and wanted to fuck a coworker, but had no desire to have any other interaction with this person after the act.  In fact, I was in a relationship, and did not believe having sex with my non-partner would have negatively affected our relationship.  Only the contrary actually, I think it would have lifted my mood and given me new ideas to play with my partnered lover in the bedroom.

I never had sex with the coworker and have since separated from the Ex, but I am left with the knowledge of my need for sex, in fact lots of it, and my desire to have it with many people.  I know of functioning, healthy, open relationships, and I strive to find a partner with which to share my life. 

But I am not delusional enough to believe my need for an open relationship will be easily accepted by the average individual.  There are some who, by nature or nurture, believe the lifestyle I live is just wrong.  Others have jealousy issues, a trait that would incline me to not be with them anyway.  So I know it will be difficult to find someone.

Often, though, I am frustrated and annoyed when I see an attractive person and realize I have no chance with them because they are "in a relationship."  I think relationships, partnerships, etcetera are all good, but why are you shutting yourself off from possibly amazing sex with others?  Why would you deny yourself transformative sexual experiences that would do nothing to ruin, defame, mare, or hurt your life at home?

It seems so simple to me: use protection and don't bring drama home.  And yet, there are so many people in this world closing themselves off from beautiful, wondrous experiences, unknown sensations, tastes and memories that would only enhance their lives. 

I am just befuddled with this.  I know this has to do with my openness to life, my lack of religious handcuffing, and, my relatively free spirit.  However, it doesn't make the situation, for me, any less angering, annoying, frustrating, or just down right sad.

A Little Project I've Started

Some of those in the know are keen on my fiber arts skills.  Often they've suggested I join Etsy and start a little shop.  But, for me, that didn't seem the best route.  So, instead, I've gone in another direction.

Poetic Is Crafty

Like my first post says, this will be a place for me to show off my fiber arts skills, start discussions, seek and give tip & tricks, and generally have fun with yarn.  I will accept requests, but that's not my aim.  I love making things; now I have a place to show off and converse with other needlers/hookers. 

Stop by and say hi.


Thursday, October 7, 2010

An Update

My few but loyal followers, I do apologize for my long absence. Life, and my lack of Internet, have gotten in the way of blogging. Even now, I'm writing this on my iPhone, my current consistent source for the web. Unfortunately, this is how I will have to blog again.

So much has happened these past few months. A brief synopsis:

- I'm living alone, truly alone, for the first time in my life. The benefits outweigh the suckage.

- I went to sex camp this past September and now feel like I have opened up again. I didn't realize how much I had shut down my sex drive and inhibited myself to my thoughts and desires. I have come to fully accept all my wants and needs, no matter the place or time. The fun/torturous part is trying to not bounce off the walls because of my increased libido; all I want to do is play.

- I work so much more now, just so I can make enough money to go to other events. I'm just a horny little slut and am loving every minute of it.

- I've seen the Ex since the breakup. I think he's having trouble dealing with his emotions. It's almost as if he's a petulant child who can't deal with not getting his way. And, unfortunately, I'm not the only one who's noticed.

- I joined a dodgeball league in an effort to spend time with my friends, have some fun, and get in a workout.

- Also, I've been riding my bike to work, when I can. Since I moved into the apartment, I've lost fifteen pounds. Amazing what healthier eating and a little exercise can do.

So there, I've brought you up to date on my life. And I hope to get back to my blogging ways.

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