On Being Greedy...

I'm hard to keep up with sexually. Being submissive in nature it is hard to ask for what I want because submissive people aren't supposed to have their own needs in mind. Thank the gods that phase is over. I have learned recently, that being submissive in nature doesn't mean that I have to be a door mat. How cool is that??

I find myself wanting to be draped all over this new boy. He turns me on physically as well as mentally. We have intellectual conversations, and with him I actually have an opinion. Again, very cool.

I'm not worried about him being able to keep up with me... quality over quantity. He's got me wanting him every moment of the day. When I'm not with him I can still smell him, taste him, feel him.

I love this new phase in my life right now. I have never felt fuller, more desired, sexier. I actually find myself almost holding back, just a little bit; I don't want to scare him with my enthusiasm. I don't want him to see my eagerness to please him as stalker behavior. And that is OK with me. It will all present itself in due time, when he is ready.

The greedy slut waits, though.

Puddles...

Part of being alone means developing new habits, and new preferences.

Part of being alone means preparing yourself for the next new and exciting phase of your life. This could be a new hair color, a new job, a new vehicle, a new lover perhaps.

It's finally happened. The drought is over.

I met a boy; and he is fantastic. He's nothing like anyone I would have ever imagined myself with. He's kind, caring, thoughtful, and not abrasive in any way. I like it. He's also able to let go and help me let go at the same time. I feel comfortable around him, I feel safe, and I feel these things because I want to feel them, not because he states that it must be so. I never understood the difference like I do now.

The drought is over in more ways than one. I can feel again, I'm not afraid anymore. I'm not keeping part of myself hidden anymore.

Oh, and the sex is fantastic, too. Just the tip of the iceberg, though. I think as I've gotten older and gotten to know myself a lot more, sex is just a bonus. I will be the first to admit that I'm a greedy slut, but intellectual stimulation and bonding can serve as the best foreplay. And it has. In so many ways.

But the drought is over. Now, if I can only find my umbrella.

Crash

I appreciate a good crash once in a while. It keeps me humble, and reminds me that I'm not perfect.

This crash is a bit different, I'm afraid. It doesn't feel like the others.

I feel alone, and it's scary. I feel abandoned. I feel lost.

It seems like the instant I reach the top of my ladder, to pull myself out of the pit of self-loathing, the ladder turns into a chute. I slide further down, even further than where I started.

But nevertheless, I climb. I'm a fighter. It's what I do.

Still, it would be nice to have a hand to grab onto, to pull me up. To at least wave me in the right direction.

But for now, I crash.

Stay tuned.

No Means No??

I'm appalled at the amount of rape "fantasies" circulating lately. It horrifies me and puzzles me.

One afternoon some time ago I was fumbling with my keys outside of the gym. It was daylight, snowy, and cold. A truck pulled up next to my car, and the gentleman driving asked me for directions to the trophy shop downtown. As I approached his vehicle to tell him, his friend was already around the back of the truck. I was dragged into their truck, and they drove me out of town. I was punched, several times. My glasses were broken, and so was a tooth. I cried, I told them to take my money, my credit cards, anything. Just let me out so I can get home to my babies.

But they didn't let me out.

They took me down a back road, just a little way out of town, and they raped me. They raped me in any hole they could stick their nasty dicks into. They held me down, scratched me, twisted my skin, bit me, pissed on me, and violated me in ways I could never imagine.

"Please, no" was all I could say through my dry sobs.

When they'd finished, they left me on the side of the road.

They didn't take my money, or my credit card, or my car keys. They took much, much more. I've had to have routine testing for Hepatitis, AIDS and STD's. I've had to endure painful dental work to repair the broken tooth. It was almost a month before I could use the bathroom comfortably. I have scars. Not just outside.

I have sons, and it is my job as a mother and a strong woman to make sure that they never do this to another human being. I would come absolutely unglued if they grew up to do something like this.

To think that this is someone's sadistic horrible fantasy is disgusting to me. No means no. For a man to say otherwise makes him a bully and a tormentor. Rape involves much more than a forceful fucking, a little fighting back. It's a blatant intrusion of someone's personal space. An unwelcome invitation to take what is not theirs. It's not playtime.

No means no.

Hahaha

Don't ever say I don't have a sense of humor. ;-)

Do You?

Do you want to come over? I have a nice spot right here you'd like.

Will you pull me onto your lap, kissing me hard, deep, while your hands pull my hair?

Will you stop only long enough to slide my skirt up over my hips?

Will you whisper "tsk tsk" when you see that I not only don't have any panties on, but that I've left a nice warm wet spot on your lap?

Will you be so bold as to make me lick it off your pants?

Will you pull me back into your lap, pulling my head back by my hair, to bite my neck and whisper all sorts of naughty things into my ear?

Will you guide my hand onto my own hungry pussy, instructing me to play with myself right there in your lap?

Will you bite and pinch my nipples while I do it?

Will you tell me I'm a greedy slut when I cum so fast, trembling and shaking, my thighs shuddering against the outsides of your legs?

Will you make me lick my own wet fingers off? Will you kiss me around my fingers; fighting me for a taste of myself?

Will you throw me down on the couch, slamming yourself into me?

Will you hold my legs up high by the ankles, fucking me harder and harder?

Will you stop fucking me long enough for me to beg you for my orgasms?

Will you fuck me harder and harder, until your cock gushes into my wet swollen cunt?

Will you finger my ass, before filling it with your dick?

Will you finger my pussy while you are fucking my ass? Hard, fast, relentless, so much that I can't even catch my breath?

Will you make me beg you to cum on me, all over me?

Will you make me take a finger full of your cum, and lick it off?

Will you?

Paint It Black...

I have a huge infatuation with black leather gloves.

I remember stealing them from my mother, out of her purse, when I was younger. My hands have always been bigger than hers, and her gloves would fit me so snugly. I would take them off and put them on, over and over. I breathed in the leather smell, delighted in the tightness of them around my fingers, how soft they felt when I ran them over my face.

I would love to feel them on my tingly body.
To feel them prying my mouth open, forcing their fingers in.
To feel them traveling the length of my tummy, pausing only to pinch and torture my hard nipples. Twisting, pulling, so tortuously delightful.
To feel them inserted in my hot clenching cunt. Three fingers, maybe four if I've been especially unruly.
To feel them back in my mouth, my eager tongue cleaning my wetness off them.
To feel them in my hair as I'm forced down to take a throatful of his hard cock.
To feel them holding my chin open as he cums all over my face and in my mouth.

Perhaps he'd take them off and stuff them in my mouth as he fills my ass.

Yes, I think I can see that quite clearly.