Thursday, August 28, 2003
Being discreet
When you belong to a group, formally organized and recognized as such or otherwise, and forward email messages to the members of the group, no rights are violated. The problem is when you forward messages to a list of persons who do not acknowledge, expressly or impliedly, their association with each other. In this case, the question of privacy arises. Mailing lists, therefore, need the express consent of those in the list as to their inclusion therein. Of course, this consent may be impliedly given, or even ratified after actual knowledge of inclusion. In my case, my personal mailing list included persons whose association with me should be discreetly handled. Thus arises...
Rule number 3: Don't ever forget that a relationship with a dickhead is highly confidential and should, therefore, be handled ex abundanti cautelam (with extreme caution).
Considering that this is the most important rule, this should be number 1. Thus, the rules are:
Rule No. 1: A relationship with a dickhead is highly confidential and should, therefore, be handled ex abundanti ad cautelam (with extreme caution).
Rule No. 2: This is NOT a long-term relationship.
Rule No. 3: DON'T EVER FORGET that this is NOT a long-term relationship.
The Alex experience
In an earlier posting, I made a note to continue with the Alex experience. It has something to do with Alex's impression that I was seeking an LTR with him. And this impression was perhaps strengthened by my insistence that he make me his sub. Of course, he refused. I haven't seen him or heard from him in three months.
I found it insulting. He perhaps thought that I was using BDSM to lure a guy into an LTR when my purpose in asking was to experience a real D/s "arrangement." He even suggested that he and I see a shrink together to evaluate whether it would be healthy for the both of us to go into such an arrangement. I have nothing against shrinks and people who go for professional help. If and when I feel that I need professional help myself, I would not hesitate to do so.
So the only difference between Mara and me is that she's married and is not looking for an LTR. And since I'm single and unattached, there is a danger that I would grow emotionally attached to a Dom and cling to him, thereby creating domestic problems for the Dom.
Excuse me.
I am not so desperate for a relationship, in any sense of the word, that I would engage in BDSM just to get into one. I want release (emotionally, psychologically) and sexual gratification. From my point of view, it's not about the dickhead; it'll never be about the dickhead. It's all about me.
I realize that a real D/s arrangement is in fact a relationship but it is not impossible to establish an arrangement without permanence and with partners meeting regularly. Just like any sport. That is what I want, nothing more, nothing less.
I find it also insulting that Alex should have this impression that I do not understand his situation. Perhaps he thinks that I lack imagination and maturity. Granted, I am not sexually experienced but this is due to social and cultural factors, not intelligence. That any person should think me intellectually-challenged and emotionally immature, especially the likes of Alex, is extremely irritating.
These things are minor irritations in life that deserve merely to be brushed off. I know who I am and what I'm capable of. More terrible things have happened to me so many times in my life as to crush me to the ground, but which I've survived. The Alex experience I should use to my advantage, for all it's worth. After that, I should discard it.
I make this admission: I was very hurt. I feel totally rejected. The fact that the person who rejected me is not even worth farting on doesn't help one bit.
The first time I met Alex, he said that men are dogs. He was right. He proved himself right.
Rule number 3: Don't ever forget that a relationship with a dickhead is highly confidential and should, therefore, be handled ex abundanti cautelam (with extreme caution).
Considering that this is the most important rule, this should be number 1. Thus, the rules are:
Rule No. 1: A relationship with a dickhead is highly confidential and should, therefore, be handled ex abundanti ad cautelam (with extreme caution).
Rule No. 2: This is NOT a long-term relationship.
Rule No. 3: DON'T EVER FORGET that this is NOT a long-term relationship.
The Alex experience
In an earlier posting, I made a note to continue with the Alex experience. It has something to do with Alex's impression that I was seeking an LTR with him. And this impression was perhaps strengthened by my insistence that he make me his sub. Of course, he refused. I haven't seen him or heard from him in three months.
I found it insulting. He perhaps thought that I was using BDSM to lure a guy into an LTR when my purpose in asking was to experience a real D/s "arrangement." He even suggested that he and I see a shrink together to evaluate whether it would be healthy for the both of us to go into such an arrangement. I have nothing against shrinks and people who go for professional help. If and when I feel that I need professional help myself, I would not hesitate to do so.
So the only difference between Mara and me is that she's married and is not looking for an LTR. And since I'm single and unattached, there is a danger that I would grow emotionally attached to a Dom and cling to him, thereby creating domestic problems for the Dom.
Excuse me.
I am not so desperate for a relationship, in any sense of the word, that I would engage in BDSM just to get into one. I want release (emotionally, psychologically) and sexual gratification. From my point of view, it's not about the dickhead; it'll never be about the dickhead. It's all about me.
I realize that a real D/s arrangement is in fact a relationship but it is not impossible to establish an arrangement without permanence and with partners meeting regularly. Just like any sport. That is what I want, nothing more, nothing less.
I find it also insulting that Alex should have this impression that I do not understand his situation. Perhaps he thinks that I lack imagination and maturity. Granted, I am not sexually experienced but this is due to social and cultural factors, not intelligence. That any person should think me intellectually-challenged and emotionally immature, especially the likes of Alex, is extremely irritating.
These things are minor irritations in life that deserve merely to be brushed off. I know who I am and what I'm capable of. More terrible things have happened to me so many times in my life as to crush me to the ground, but which I've survived. The Alex experience I should use to my advantage, for all it's worth. After that, I should discard it.
I make this admission: I was very hurt. I feel totally rejected. The fact that the person who rejected me is not even worth farting on doesn't help one bit.
The first time I met Alex, he said that men are dogs. He was right. He proved himself right.
Monday, August 25, 2003
Priorities
It's been some time. I've been sick. My blood pressure shot up -- due to lack of exercise, improper diet (salty, fatty foods) and the aggravation of Mara's newfound lovelife. Talk about shallow. Anyway.
I've decided on some things in my life.
I've decided on some things in my life.
1. Get on with law school. Finish the course. Take the bar.
2. Forget men and sex and bondage. Focus on the task at hand. --
Well, forget meeting new guys, at least. Woman can't live on brains alone.
She's gotta have dick once in a while. So I'll just maintain my existing
dickheads. Those who are worth maintaining, that is.
3. Accept the fact that I'm gonna grow old alone. That should give more
than adequate incentive to achieve a career in law.
Saturday, August 16, 2003
Comments tool
I've been trying and trying to include a comments tool in this thing, to no avail. Will keep on trying, though. In the meantime, I've put an email link to me in the side bar there on the left. This will have to do till I learn more about these things. Which leads me to ask: do I really want the good people of the net to comment on my angsts? Hmmm... We'll just have to wait and see...
Thursday, August 14, 2003
Grief
Yesterday, I was at a wake. It was my Auntie Jean's wake. She was 62 or so. Not sure. Her family and mine are close friends. I was 11 when I first met her. She was the first adult in my childhood -- the only one, really -- who stopped and listened to me when I had something to say, no matter how trivial or silly, no matter if it were play or for real. I was 11 and she was a gem among adults. She was fun, too. Some 30 years later, standing there, looking at her lying in that coffin, I felt that my childhood had died.
I didn't realize how significant Auntie Jean was until she'd passed away. I never got to tell her how much her listening to me meant. I never got to explore this relationship. The one person who was never condescending, who affirmed me as whoever the hell I was or wanted to be, had passed away. And I would never get to tell her how precious she is to me.
Suddenly, I felt old...and alone.
Like I haven't felt old and alone every single day for the past 10 years. This time was different, though. It felt more immediate, with a lot more urgency to it. I wanted to cry; I wanted to grieve. I wanted to be angry and lash out against the whole world. I wanted to be bitter and vengeful. I just couldn't find anyone to blame.
And then there was Clive. Sweet Irish fella, shy and hesitant. From him, I get to know that Mara has temporarily shut off her profile on our favorite site because of an emotional involvement with this guy. Mara didn't give details. Apparently, she's agreed to see this guy exclusively. My first guess is it's Renaud. It's most probably him.
So, on top of the loss of a remarkable person in my life, there's the envy I feel for the things that Mara has in her life. She's beautiful, bright, witty, a mom to three kids, a professional with a stable, well-paying job. Now, she has a serious relationship going with a guy who's more than sexually satisfying. Love, kids, money, career, sex. None of which I have in my life.
Rejection, rejection....
Like I remarked to Clive, there must be something really wrong with me. Time to face the facts.
Again, I wanted to cry; I wanted to grieve. I wanted to be angry and lash out against the whole world. I wanted to be bitter and vengeful. I just couldn't find anyone to blame.
All bitter and sad, with no one to blame. Pathetic. Time to face the facts: I need help. That's easy enough to accept. What I find difficult to deal with is that there's no one to turn to.
So, I block Renaud from my email account and my instant messenger. I erase all indications that I ever exchanged emails and messages with him. I delete his fone number from my fone book, and his email addresses, from my address books. I'll probably avoid seeing Mara for the next couple of months. I won't be mentioning her again here unless it's really important.
Rejection, rejection....What peace there must be in death....
I didn't realize how significant Auntie Jean was until she'd passed away. I never got to tell her how much her listening to me meant. I never got to explore this relationship. The one person who was never condescending, who affirmed me as whoever the hell I was or wanted to be, had passed away. And I would never get to tell her how precious she is to me.
Suddenly, I felt old...and alone.
Like I haven't felt old and alone every single day for the past 10 years. This time was different, though. It felt more immediate, with a lot more urgency to it. I wanted to cry; I wanted to grieve. I wanted to be angry and lash out against the whole world. I wanted to be bitter and vengeful. I just couldn't find anyone to blame.
And then there was Clive. Sweet Irish fella, shy and hesitant. From him, I get to know that Mara has temporarily shut off her profile on our favorite site because of an emotional involvement with this guy. Mara didn't give details. Apparently, she's agreed to see this guy exclusively. My first guess is it's Renaud. It's most probably him.
So, on top of the loss of a remarkable person in my life, there's the envy I feel for the things that Mara has in her life. She's beautiful, bright, witty, a mom to three kids, a professional with a stable, well-paying job. Now, she has a serious relationship going with a guy who's more than sexually satisfying. Love, kids, money, career, sex. None of which I have in my life.
Rejection, rejection....
Like I remarked to Clive, there must be something really wrong with me. Time to face the facts.
Again, I wanted to cry; I wanted to grieve. I wanted to be angry and lash out against the whole world. I wanted to be bitter and vengeful. I just couldn't find anyone to blame.
All bitter and sad, with no one to blame. Pathetic. Time to face the facts: I need help. That's easy enough to accept. What I find difficult to deal with is that there's no one to turn to.
So, I block Renaud from my email account and my instant messenger. I erase all indications that I ever exchanged emails and messages with him. I delete his fone number from my fone book, and his email addresses, from my address books. I'll probably avoid seeing Mara for the next couple of months. I won't be mentioning her again here unless it's really important.
Rejection, rejection....What peace there must be in death....
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
Sitcom
After Peter's sweet response, here comes Mara's Frenchie, Renaud. I sent him an apology, thus:
When I ticked off those names on my mailing list, including your own, I was not being mindful of you and your situation. I didn't realize that by including your name, I violated your privacy. It was mindless and highly irresponsible of me. It is only now that I realize the import of my actions and their possible consequences. I can only apologize and promise that it will never happen again. I can only hope that no damage to you has been done. I feel terrible for having done this to you. Rest assured that there will be no more emails from me. Again, my sincerest apologies.
This was the original, actually. I just changed the last part a bit for Peter (see below). Stiff and formal, this is me when confronted. I was so stricken with contrition, remember, that I just had to apologize to these guys. Anyway, here's Renaud's response.
Come on Emyn, don't be so dramatic...I just did not want to be contacted by Brent !
Kisses.
If there was a God, my life would be his favorite sitcom.
When I ticked off those names on my mailing list, including your own, I was not being mindful of you and your situation. I didn't realize that by including your name, I violated your privacy. It was mindless and highly irresponsible of me. It is only now that I realize the import of my actions and their possible consequences. I can only apologize and promise that it will never happen again. I can only hope that no damage to you has been done. I feel terrible for having done this to you. Rest assured that there will be no more emails from me. Again, my sincerest apologies.
This was the original, actually. I just changed the last part a bit for Peter (see below). Stiff and formal, this is me when confronted. I was so stricken with contrition, remember, that I just had to apologize to these guys. Anyway, here's Renaud's response.
Come on Emyn, don't be so dramatic...I just did not want to be contacted by Brent !
Kisses.
From: Brent ____
To: Renaud
This is Brent from ___ alias p___. Pls. let me know who you are nad with pix. Thx.
If there was a God, my life would be his favorite sitcom.
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
Sins and confession
Writing that last post made me realize the terrible thing that I had done to these men who had not done me any wrong. Crippled with grief, I sent the following to Peter:
When I ticked off those names on my mailing list, including your own, I was not being mindful of you and your situation. I didn't realize that by including your name, I violated your privacy. It was mindless and highly irresponsible of me. It is only now that I realize the import of my actions and their possible consequences. I can only hope that no damage to you has been done. I feel terrible for having done this to you. It's very sobering to realize how stupid the whole thing was. I do have my moments, don't I? You're being very kind and patient. Thank you.
The need to confess and be punished (residual emotions from my Catholic upbringing: discussion set aside for another day) was so overwhelming that it had to be done. Mea culpa! Indeed!
I went about my tasks lightheaded for the rest of the day, with my sins weighing down heart and soul. My having allergic rhinitis didn't help any, along with the two tablets of brain-fuzz-inducing antihistamine I had with lunch.
And then, a break in the clouds. Peter sent the following in response to my contrite email:
Yes, I will have to punish you real bad next time I see you!
I completely forgot about Renaud and Alex. Peter was enough.
I am an idiot, but a much-loved (well, perhaps -regarded more than -loved) idiot.
When I ticked off those names on my mailing list, including your own, I was not being mindful of you and your situation. I didn't realize that by including your name, I violated your privacy. It was mindless and highly irresponsible of me. It is only now that I realize the import of my actions and their possible consequences. I can only hope that no damage to you has been done. I feel terrible for having done this to you. It's very sobering to realize how stupid the whole thing was. I do have my moments, don't I? You're being very kind and patient. Thank you.
The need to confess and be punished (residual emotions from my Catholic upbringing: discussion set aside for another day) was so overwhelming that it had to be done. Mea culpa! Indeed!
I went about my tasks lightheaded for the rest of the day, with my sins weighing down heart and soul. My having allergic rhinitis didn't help any, along with the two tablets of brain-fuzz-inducing antihistamine I had with lunch.
And then, a break in the clouds. Peter sent the following in response to my contrite email:
Yes, I will have to punish you real bad next time I see you!
I completely forgot about Renaud and Alex. Peter was enough.
I am an idiot, but a much-loved (well, perhaps -regarded more than -loved) idiot.
Geisha school
Like I mentioned earlier, I was with Peter last week. I had sent something funny thru email to a list of men friends, some of who were dickheads. Peter's name and email address was in that list. So was Alex's and Renaud's. Now this guy, Renaud, replied to my email, cc everyone else on that list. I didn't notice this, so when Peter mentioned it, I was aghast. I was also confused. Hence, the following email to Peter yesterday:
i just wanted to ask something: remember that email you received which was a reply meant for me but with cc to everyone else? your reaction made me wonder if you thought of single women like me who meet men purely for sex as socially taboo? this is just me wondering. i don't take anything against you. i was not and am not offended by your reaction. it just got me thinking...
we started off with you being aware that i have a profile up on aff. so the presumption is that i meet men other than you for sex. you did suggest that in the future i avoid sending cc's of my emails to a list of male-sounding addressees as the impression seems to be that it's a list of lovers. so does this mean that you think that having a list like that (i.e., of lovers) is socially unacceptable? and is the length of the list directly related to the degree of unacceptableness? in other words, the longer the list, the sluttier the woman?
again, this is just me asking. i got a bit confused as to how you looked at the whole thing.
it was perhaps simply embarrassing for you to see a list of men with your name on it? i suppose you found it in bad taste. the question is, why? was it in bad taste? only if we were to accept the supposition that it was a list of lovers. but like i said, it wasn't. it was simply the second half a mailing list divided into men on one side and women on the other. why i based the division on gender, i don't remember anymore, when most of the addressees on the list are lawyers. hence, the confusion on my part.
quite a mouthful...anyway, i can't help but think of the gender issue popularly known as the double standard...
The following was Peter's reply:
My Dear ____,
You could fuck the entire universe that I couldn't care less. It is your life and I wish you all the fun in the world.
The point is I am married. So I am the one not supposed to fuck around. Somebody on this list might know me and assume (correctly) that we are lovers. The next thing we know is that the news spreads around. That is something I want to avoid. Our relationship is confidential and should stay that way. I hope you agree with me.
Cheers.
Peter
Can anything be more hilarious? I am such a big idiot. Thus, the following apology:
think three impossible things before breakast, the white queen suggested to alice...
once again, i jump before i leap. and once again, i think it's all about me. i keep forgetting that the paradigm has shifted and that the perspective has changed. you will have to forgive me. lots of things to learn and unlearn...
My justifications:
1. I'm single and not used to looking over my shoulder.
2. It's not an affair; it's just an arrangement.
3. I'm not appropriating the dickhead as my own special someone.
I am such an idiot. The biggest there is. I should go to geisha school. The problem is, there's none that I could find on the net.
i just wanted to ask something: remember that email you received which was a reply meant for me but with cc to everyone else? your reaction made me wonder if you thought of single women like me who meet men purely for sex as socially taboo? this is just me wondering. i don't take anything against you. i was not and am not offended by your reaction. it just got me thinking...
we started off with you being aware that i have a profile up on aff. so the presumption is that i meet men other than you for sex. you did suggest that in the future i avoid sending cc's of my emails to a list of male-sounding addressees as the impression seems to be that it's a list of lovers. so does this mean that you think that having a list like that (i.e., of lovers) is socially unacceptable? and is the length of the list directly related to the degree of unacceptableness? in other words, the longer the list, the sluttier the woman?
again, this is just me asking. i got a bit confused as to how you looked at the whole thing.
it was perhaps simply embarrassing for you to see a list of men with your name on it? i suppose you found it in bad taste. the question is, why? was it in bad taste? only if we were to accept the supposition that it was a list of lovers. but like i said, it wasn't. it was simply the second half a mailing list divided into men on one side and women on the other. why i based the division on gender, i don't remember anymore, when most of the addressees on the list are lawyers. hence, the confusion on my part.
quite a mouthful...anyway, i can't help but think of the gender issue popularly known as the double standard...
The following was Peter's reply:
My Dear ____,
You could fuck the entire universe that I couldn't care less. It is your life and I wish you all the fun in the world.
The point is I am married. So I am the one not supposed to fuck around. Somebody on this list might know me and assume (correctly) that we are lovers. The next thing we know is that the news spreads around. That is something I want to avoid. Our relationship is confidential and should stay that way. I hope you agree with me.
Cheers.
Peter
Can anything be more hilarious? I am such a big idiot. Thus, the following apology:
think three impossible things before breakast, the white queen suggested to alice...
once again, i jump before i leap. and once again, i think it's all about me. i keep forgetting that the paradigm has shifted and that the perspective has changed. you will have to forgive me. lots of things to learn and unlearn...
My justifications:
1. I'm single and not used to looking over my shoulder.
2. It's not an affair; it's just an arrangement.
3. I'm not appropriating the dickhead as my own special someone.
I am such an idiot. The biggest there is. I should go to geisha school. The problem is, there's none that I could find on the net.
Monday, August 11, 2003
Defining the experience
Terms...
Dickhead This is a guy whose interest in me is primarily sexual. I say primarily because it can't be purely sexual. There has to be chemistry. Most of these men are interested in striking up a friendship with me as well. The sexual "arrangement" is different from the friendship that may be initiated.
Arrangement I'm constrained to use this word to refer to the relationship between myself and a dickhead considering the connotation of the term, relationship. Most dickheads I've met emphasize the fact that they are not looking for a long-term relationship (LTR); hence, the avoidance of the word, relationship. This includes the implied agreement against meeting regularly. Thus, should the parties desire to meet regularly, this should be expressly agreed upon. The presumption, therefore, is that the "arrangement" is open -- as to commitment/exclusivity, as to schedule. So, Alex's and Peter's policy of having their partners call them up for a meeting, or session, becomes clear now. These dickheads avoid giving the impression that they are more than casually interested in their partners.
Casual This should be read vis-a-vis LTR. A casual arrangement does not involve any pre-arranged series of sessions. The rule is against pre-arrangement. There is no such thing as "every Tuesday" or "once a month." Unless, of course, this has been agreed upon. I haven't encountered this at all. Mara has not told me whether she has this arrangement with her dickheads but, given her schedule, I don't think she does. Alex has a loose schedule of seeing a partner once a month or so, depending on his schedule. Peter has sent me email that he wouldn't be seeing me in the next few weeks as his work schedule wouldn't allow it. (This, in response to my offer to be his sub and for me to be bound and gagged by him.)
Activity partner I use this term to refer to myself and to a dickhead. But not all dickheads are activity partners. I guess an activity partner is someone who's more or less a regular dickhead. Moreover, he's someone a cut above the rest, that special dickhead who I'd prefer above everyone else. But he's no LTR, that's for sure. Partner, therefore, would connote someone I get along well with. The issue of compatibility plays a major role here. Mara has her Frenchie, Renaud. Alex did refer to him as Mara's "evolving relationship." A thorny issue from my point of view. Mara has informed me that Renaud has intimated to her that he no longer wanted to see any more of her friends for reasons unknown. This has got me to thinking that, perhaps, Renaud is also wary of my being a single unattached woman. (Yes, I have been with the guy.) My fault, really, as I was teasing him, getting him to think that I was "loyal" to him, not seeing anyone else, blah. This was early on in my slut-discovery and didn't know any better. Like I said, things to learn, things to unlearn.
The Scene This includes the scenario agreed upon or the set of (pretended) circumstances within which the sexual act is carried out, if it's play-rape or just plain vanilla or a combination of both or whatever evolves, which, of course means that there is characterization involved. Even if it's just plain vanilla, there still is characterization. In the latter case, the more accurate term would be "willing suspension of disbelief." The underlying supposition is that there is something more than sex between the parties. At the very least, there is regard and respect for each other. That is why I never get to be treated as someone who's been paid for her services like a prostitute. The arrangement to have sex is consensual and not commercial. (It is in respect, I think, that the awkwardness in the transition scene to the ending is rooted.)
...and Conditions
Rule number one: This is NOT a long-term relationship.
Rule number two: DON'T EVER FORGET that this is NOT a long-term relationship.
These are the two basic conditions. The other rules are: consensuality of the arrangement, trust in the other, respect for each other. The coverage is broad. It's really up to the parties to work out the details. In my case, most of the details are unstated, except for the very basic like I emphasize that I'm not into pain and observe safe sex. This is because most of the dickheads I see are Mara's referrals, hence, no real need to bother with the details. But when the dickhead's my own, I sit down with him and lay down the rules.
Last week, I met with Rodney at his hotel. I met him on the net. He was a sweet Texan guy living with a Filipina. One new thing that I came up with was the time he expected me to leave. He actually invited me to stay the night but since I had work the following day, that was not possible. This was something I'd discovered: that dickheads who don't expect me to stay over would say things like: It was good of you to drop by, blah. And all that stuff. I feel extremely uncomfortable with this, like I was being shooed away. It destroys it for me, the scene. It wasn't supposed to end that way. The partner was supposed to leave on her own. She wasn't supposed to be told to go, in whatever manner and however couched in diplomatic terms.
So now, one of my rules is that the departure time should be agreed upon. Should the dickhead wish to extend that time, he should ask me to stay longer and another departure time should be set. In other words, the option should stay with me. I should, however, be sensitive to the dickhead, as to whether he wants to terminate the session earlier than the set time.
Rodney and I agreed on a set time. I even set my fone alarm. However, I had to leave before that as Rodney suddenly felt so tired and worn out by the fucking. He obviously planned on going right to sleep with me in his hotel room and didn't contemplate the possibility that I wouldn't be staying till morning. He just sat on the chair and kept yawning and apologizing. That was a bit of a letdown.
So another rule: should I be meeting with a dickhead in his hotel room, I should clarify whether or not he wants me to stay over, and discuss the entire thing with him. That should do the trick.
The Scene; Characterization
First off, it should be made clear that I'm into this because of myself. It's all about me. Thus, I don't want to hear about any other lover, I don't want to be compared with somebody else, even if it's Mara -- especially if it's Mara.
This willing suspension of disbelief is of the fact that the dickhead I'm with is into it not because of me as a person, but me as tits and pussy. In other words, a sex object. I willingly suspend this knowledge. This is my scene. I am the hero here. Or maybe not the hero, but the center of the universe. The dickhead exists because of me, for my pleasure. That's why it's significant that I'm into Domination and submission since, in the politics of D/s, the Dom exists to please the sub.
In plain vanilla, the dickhead assumes the character of a lover. There is love; there is intimacy; there is a connection that goes beyond genitalia. I pretend that I am in an LTR and I have been wooed and wined and dined by a man who thinks I'm the most special of women, blah. The usual romantic stuff that dreams are made of. I pretend that the dickhead thinks I'm his special someone. So it's such a big deal when Peter puts his arms around me while we're resting, preparing for round two. But there's always the awkward moment when the dickhead lets go of his character and slips back into his own.
The last time I was with Peter, this was so painfully apparent. I had gone into the bath after he had left it. When I re-entered the motel room, he was already dressed and putting on his socks. He gave me a small smile and apologized -- for being dressed already, muttering something about not wanting to get cold. It was really uncomfortable. So -- okay, he wanted to end it already. That wasn't a problem with me. All he had to do was -- get dressed. Why it had to be so awkward, I can't understand.
The problem is communication. I suppose the next time I'm with a dickhead, I'll jsut have to clear things up: what time we leave, the order of things to be done, all that stuff. It has to be programmed so as not to be destroyed. The script has to be prepared. It is, after all, a scene.
I have no awkward moments with Alex, surprisingly. The question is, does he ever get into character? Does he ever leave his own? He is always in the character of a dickhead who reminds me at every opportunity of Rule Number One and Rule Number Two above. With Alex, it's pure vanilla with a bit of Domination thrown in, like when he persuaded me to let him fuck me in the ass. There's some spanking and hair-pulling, but it's plain vanilla, casual sex. I don't think he suspends any disbelief. He wants to fuck me when we're together but doesn't want to receive anything else from me, except when he wants to be amused, I suppose, and then he chats with me online.
Next: To be continued; the Alex experience; what I really find insulting: a dickhead's fear of my becoming emotionally attached to him and clingy.
Dickhead This is a guy whose interest in me is primarily sexual. I say primarily because it can't be purely sexual. There has to be chemistry. Most of these men are interested in striking up a friendship with me as well. The sexual "arrangement" is different from the friendship that may be initiated.
Arrangement I'm constrained to use this word to refer to the relationship between myself and a dickhead considering the connotation of the term, relationship. Most dickheads I've met emphasize the fact that they are not looking for a long-term relationship (LTR); hence, the avoidance of the word, relationship. This includes the implied agreement against meeting regularly. Thus, should the parties desire to meet regularly, this should be expressly agreed upon. The presumption, therefore, is that the "arrangement" is open -- as to commitment/exclusivity, as to schedule. So, Alex's and Peter's policy of having their partners call them up for a meeting, or session, becomes clear now. These dickheads avoid giving the impression that they are more than casually interested in their partners.
Casual This should be read vis-a-vis LTR. A casual arrangement does not involve any pre-arranged series of sessions. The rule is against pre-arrangement. There is no such thing as "every Tuesday" or "once a month." Unless, of course, this has been agreed upon. I haven't encountered this at all. Mara has not told me whether she has this arrangement with her dickheads but, given her schedule, I don't think she does. Alex has a loose schedule of seeing a partner once a month or so, depending on his schedule. Peter has sent me email that he wouldn't be seeing me in the next few weeks as his work schedule wouldn't allow it. (This, in response to my offer to be his sub and for me to be bound and gagged by him.)
Activity partner I use this term to refer to myself and to a dickhead. But not all dickheads are activity partners. I guess an activity partner is someone who's more or less a regular dickhead. Moreover, he's someone a cut above the rest, that special dickhead who I'd prefer above everyone else. But he's no LTR, that's for sure. Partner, therefore, would connote someone I get along well with. The issue of compatibility plays a major role here. Mara has her Frenchie, Renaud. Alex did refer to him as Mara's "evolving relationship." A thorny issue from my point of view. Mara has informed me that Renaud has intimated to her that he no longer wanted to see any more of her friends for reasons unknown. This has got me to thinking that, perhaps, Renaud is also wary of my being a single unattached woman. (Yes, I have been with the guy.) My fault, really, as I was teasing him, getting him to think that I was "loyal" to him, not seeing anyone else, blah. This was early on in my slut-discovery and didn't know any better. Like I said, things to learn, things to unlearn.
The Scene This includes the scenario agreed upon or the set of (pretended) circumstances within which the sexual act is carried out, if it's play-rape or just plain vanilla or a combination of both or whatever evolves, which, of course means that there is characterization involved. Even if it's just plain vanilla, there still is characterization. In the latter case, the more accurate term would be "willing suspension of disbelief." The underlying supposition is that there is something more than sex between the parties. At the very least, there is regard and respect for each other. That is why I never get to be treated as someone who's been paid for her services like a prostitute. The arrangement to have sex is consensual and not commercial. (It is in respect, I think, that the awkwardness in the transition scene to the ending is rooted.)
...and Conditions
Rule number one: This is NOT a long-term relationship.
Rule number two: DON'T EVER FORGET that this is NOT a long-term relationship.
These are the two basic conditions. The other rules are: consensuality of the arrangement, trust in the other, respect for each other. The coverage is broad. It's really up to the parties to work out the details. In my case, most of the details are unstated, except for the very basic like I emphasize that I'm not into pain and observe safe sex. This is because most of the dickheads I see are Mara's referrals, hence, no real need to bother with the details. But when the dickhead's my own, I sit down with him and lay down the rules.
Last week, I met with Rodney at his hotel. I met him on the net. He was a sweet Texan guy living with a Filipina. One new thing that I came up with was the time he expected me to leave. He actually invited me to stay the night but since I had work the following day, that was not possible. This was something I'd discovered: that dickheads who don't expect me to stay over would say things like: It was good of you to drop by, blah. And all that stuff. I feel extremely uncomfortable with this, like I was being shooed away. It destroys it for me, the scene. It wasn't supposed to end that way. The partner was supposed to leave on her own. She wasn't supposed to be told to go, in whatever manner and however couched in diplomatic terms.
So now, one of my rules is that the departure time should be agreed upon. Should the dickhead wish to extend that time, he should ask me to stay longer and another departure time should be set. In other words, the option should stay with me. I should, however, be sensitive to the dickhead, as to whether he wants to terminate the session earlier than the set time.
Rodney and I agreed on a set time. I even set my fone alarm. However, I had to leave before that as Rodney suddenly felt so tired and worn out by the fucking. He obviously planned on going right to sleep with me in his hotel room and didn't contemplate the possibility that I wouldn't be staying till morning. He just sat on the chair and kept yawning and apologizing. That was a bit of a letdown.
So another rule: should I be meeting with a dickhead in his hotel room, I should clarify whether or not he wants me to stay over, and discuss the entire thing with him. That should do the trick.
The Scene; Characterization
First off, it should be made clear that I'm into this because of myself. It's all about me. Thus, I don't want to hear about any other lover, I don't want to be compared with somebody else, even if it's Mara -- especially if it's Mara.
This willing suspension of disbelief is of the fact that the dickhead I'm with is into it not because of me as a person, but me as tits and pussy. In other words, a sex object. I willingly suspend this knowledge. This is my scene. I am the hero here. Or maybe not the hero, but the center of the universe. The dickhead exists because of me, for my pleasure. That's why it's significant that I'm into Domination and submission since, in the politics of D/s, the Dom exists to please the sub.
In plain vanilla, the dickhead assumes the character of a lover. There is love; there is intimacy; there is a connection that goes beyond genitalia. I pretend that I am in an LTR and I have been wooed and wined and dined by a man who thinks I'm the most special of women, blah. The usual romantic stuff that dreams are made of. I pretend that the dickhead thinks I'm his special someone. So it's such a big deal when Peter puts his arms around me while we're resting, preparing for round two. But there's always the awkward moment when the dickhead lets go of his character and slips back into his own.
The last time I was with Peter, this was so painfully apparent. I had gone into the bath after he had left it. When I re-entered the motel room, he was already dressed and putting on his socks. He gave me a small smile and apologized -- for being dressed already, muttering something about not wanting to get cold. It was really uncomfortable. So -- okay, he wanted to end it already. That wasn't a problem with me. All he had to do was -- get dressed. Why it had to be so awkward, I can't understand.
The problem is communication. I suppose the next time I'm with a dickhead, I'll jsut have to clear things up: what time we leave, the order of things to be done, all that stuff. It has to be programmed so as not to be destroyed. The script has to be prepared. It is, after all, a scene.
I have no awkward moments with Alex, surprisingly. The question is, does he ever get into character? Does he ever leave his own? He is always in the character of a dickhead who reminds me at every opportunity of Rule Number One and Rule Number Two above. With Alex, it's pure vanilla with a bit of Domination thrown in, like when he persuaded me to let him fuck me in the ass. There's some spanking and hair-pulling, but it's plain vanilla, casual sex. I don't think he suspends any disbelief. He wants to fuck me when we're together but doesn't want to receive anything else from me, except when he wants to be amused, I suppose, and then he chats with me online.
Next: To be continued; the Alex experience; what I really find insulting: a dickhead's fear of my becoming emotionally attached to him and clingy.
Saturday, August 09, 2003
Sweet things for breakfast
Mara introduced me to two of her Euro lovers. Alex was one of them. As cold as Alex is, Peter is quite the opposite. He's sweet and warm and playful. Maybe it's because Peter's younger? Nah.
Peter
The last time I was with Peter was months ago. I didn't know that he expected his girlfriends to call him up and ask to meet. So there I was waiting and waiting...Of course, he didn't call or email or send SMS, and of course, I thought that he didn't like me at all and didn't enjoy doing it with me. Rejection, rejection...
When I did send him an email, he responded at once. I felt so heartened and happy and good about myself -- it was pathetic, but there it is. So we agreed to meet, the exact date and place to be announced later. He was going to be traveling someplace, blah.
I remember rebuking Mara after that first meeting with Peter that she should have told me that he was the dick that wouldn't die...
And then there was Noe.
Noe's significant because of his race. I guess at this point, it must be told: I'm a Filipino woman. Now that's a mouthful. From the point of view of the sexual experience, this says a lot. The Filipino, or Pinoy, grows up in a social environment wherein sex is taboo. It's simply not discussed. And an individual's sexual experience stays hidden and largely goes unexplored. The Pinoy guy's dick gets hard, he looks around for his regular pussy, he bangs away and -- that's it. The Pinoy woman is just an object to be used for the Pinoy guy's sexual and individual gratification. That is why I make the categorical statement that Pinoy men don't know the meaning of mutual gratification in the sexual act.
Pinoy men don't know how long they engage in the act. They never had the need to find out. Sex, after all, is exclusively for their satisfaction. The woman's satisfaction is never important. Whether the woman gets an orgasm is not important. Thus, the Pinoy woman doesn't know what an orgasm is all about. She never gets to experience it. Well, maybe never is too strong a word. Perhaps the more accurate statement would be that she sees an orgasm as an incidental occurrence in the sexual act. An orgasm is never an objective, never a goal, in sex. It's always the satisfaction of the guy that's important. It's the amount of cum that comes out of the dickhead that's important.
This was me before I met Mara's Euro friends. And some Yanks, too, who I met on my own. They have
That's the general rule. There are, of course, exceptions. Very few, but there are. Noe's one of them.
Noe
Like all of the Pinoy men I've met, I met Noe on the net. (A bit of alliteration there.)
I liked his voice right from the start. Deep, husky -- very manly. And he knew what he wanted. He wasn't shy at all about sex. And I liked his looks from the start. He was very Pinoy in color: lovely brown. And he had big hands, very capable-looking hands.
Marathon
I got into the car with Noe at around 9 in the morning and we drove to this motel. At 11.45 that same morning, I got into a cab with Peter and went to this same motel. I had two dickheads fuck me that morning, and both were very satisfying and pleasurable meetings.
For a Pinoy, Noe's cock was large. It was hard and hot and long and brown and veined. He was gentle but forceful. I insist on safe sex, using condoms all the time. But Noe was forceful. He penetrated me despite my insistent pleas for him to put on a condom first. I got really excited by all this. He was a man who knew what he wanted and he was out to get it. But, after a while, he did give in and put on a condom.
Now, I'm not used to actively "directing" the play. I usually let the guys lead. But with Noe, it was different. I felt really free to ask for what I wanted, like being on top. I don't usually get on top because it tires me. But with Noe, I did and it was very satisfying. I came once, on top. It was great. He did grab me after a while and took the lead again, but wow. What a rush.
Liberation
It being the first time I was with Noe, I was tense and nervous at the start. I told Noe that I had this business meeting at 11.30 that same morning so I had to be out of there by 11 or 11.15. And I even sent Peter SMS, asking for confirmation of our 11.30 meeting. It was a tense 15 minutes, lying there on the bed with just a towel around me, waiting for Peter to confirm. Noe was busy giving me a massage, getting me to relax. I couldn't. I didn't know what to do, I was so tense.
And then the message from Peter came, confirming.
Surprisingly, that was all that I needed. Suddenly, I felt like the sexiest woman alive. I had one dickhead waiting to just fuck the daylights out of me and I had another waiting to do the exact same thing. I think that's what freed me to just ask for what I wanted from Noe. I asked to be on top and I got that; I asked to be fucked from behind and, boy, did I get that. It was a very uninhibited and lively hour.
Noe came on my tummy. Hot cum. Very hot and a lot of cum. And I mean a lot. (Almost made me want to ask him to give me a baby. But that's another story, my baby hunger.) But before he did, he ripped off the condom and penetrated me really hard and deep and just banged away. I never got to say anything. I was so excited just watching him have his way with me. Plain vanilla, yes, but wow. I must have come four times in all, a continuous stream of hot, wet, creamy cum.
I waited for Peter at a coffee shop. I felt wonderful and wondered if I looked it. I guess I didn't as the guys who passed by never gave me a second glance. It was the young, slim, petite thing at the other table that they stared at. Yeah, well...guess who's having another multiple in the next hour.
So did Peter fuck the daylights out of me? He sure did. Twice. While Noe came only once, Peter had to have another go at me. Very tiring. And he didn't use protection, either. He never did with me. I have no worries with him. I trust him completely. Insane, I know, but I do. This is only the second time I've been with Peter and the first time I've noticed how sweet he really is. He kept holding my hand in the cab, stroking it. He seemed really sincere that he felt good about being with me. He kept me in his arms while we were both regaining our strength, my head on his chest. That felt very comforting. Almost real.
(Sincerity. That's another issue I want to expound on.)
Peter just had to fuck me in the ass. It hurt like hell. That was the second time for me, the first time being with Alex. Yes, cold, distant Alex took my virgin ass. That hurt more than hell. I couldn't sit down for days. And it hurt to poo. After Peter, it hurt to pee and it hurt more to poo. At least Alex used a condom and lots of KY. Peter only had his birthday suit on and just a bit of spit.
At first, I protested against this unannounced attack on my ass. Peter showed his Dom side by shushing me like he would a child. The effect on me was immediate. I whimpered, making small protestations, my face grimacing in pain. I begged, I cried out -- to no avail. He kept shushing me sternly, pushing against my tight ass. I forced myself to relax but the pain wouldn't translate into pleasure. The only thing that kept me in the scene was Peter's reactions to my cries and pleas to stop: he was so turned on. He must have kept at it for about 15 minutes. Twice I thought I was going to pass out in pain but I managed to hang in there. My thighs were so strained, trembling under Peter's weight. Finally, he pulled out, went to wash, and came right back, praising me for being such a "good girl," and saying that he was so proud of me. I think he thought that I had given up my ass' virginity to him. My first impulse was to tell him the truth, that his friend, Alex, had already taken it 2 months earlier. But I desisted. And besides, I had no time. Before I knew it, I was on my back again, and Peter's still hard cock in my pussy. He came on my tummy.
The wrap up
All throughout the main scene (i.e., the fucking part), most of the guys really throw themselves into it without a break in, shall we say, characterization. No difficulty in staying in character. It's the transition scene into the ending (leaving the motel room and parting) that I find extremely uncomfortable.
(I should define the stages, give it structure, for easier reference and analysis.)
Peter, who is an experienced Dom, was surprisingly uncomfortable. But in the cab ride out of the motel back to where I was supposed to drop him off, he was his usual sweet self, holding my hand and stroking it, making small talk. The parting was easy and smooth. No uncomfortable hitches. No pain. I appreciated Peter for that. I couldn't help comparing him to Alex who wouldn't even show me if I pleased him or not. This is going to be a lengthy discussion, my experience with Alex. In a word, the experience with Alex is jarring. Unlike that with Noe and Peter. Noe was a smooth and easy experience. No break in character whatsoever.
Oh. And dinner. I was so determined yesterday afternoon that I was not taking rice that evening. Hah! When I got home, there was pork stew in tamarind base (sinigang), with lots of greens and squash. I couldn't help myself. I had a large serving of rice with the stew. Oh well. It wasn't the frist time I'd broken my resolve to diet. Better luck next time. But, definitely. I will have to increase my physical activity. Go back to running three times a week. That would really be great. Oh well.
Next: Sincerity; the Alex experience; what I really find insulting: a dickhead's fear of my becoming emotionally attached to him and clingy.
N.B. i really should start defining terms, like dickhead, which is not meant to be derogatory.
Peter
The last time I was with Peter was months ago. I didn't know that he expected his girlfriends to call him up and ask to meet. So there I was waiting and waiting...Of course, he didn't call or email or send SMS, and of course, I thought that he didn't like me at all and didn't enjoy doing it with me. Rejection, rejection...
When I did send him an email, he responded at once. I felt so heartened and happy and good about myself -- it was pathetic, but there it is. So we agreed to meet, the exact date and place to be announced later. He was going to be traveling someplace, blah.
I remember rebuking Mara after that first meeting with Peter that she should have told me that he was the dick that wouldn't die...
And then there was Noe.
Noe's significant because of his race. I guess at this point, it must be told: I'm a Filipino woman. Now that's a mouthful. From the point of view of the sexual experience, this says a lot. The Filipino, or Pinoy, grows up in a social environment wherein sex is taboo. It's simply not discussed. And an individual's sexual experience stays hidden and largely goes unexplored. The Pinoy guy's dick gets hard, he looks around for his regular pussy, he bangs away and -- that's it. The Pinoy woman is just an object to be used for the Pinoy guy's sexual and individual gratification. That is why I make the categorical statement that Pinoy men don't know the meaning of mutual gratification in the sexual act.
Pinoy men don't know how long they engage in the act. They never had the need to find out. Sex, after all, is exclusively for their satisfaction. The woman's satisfaction is never important. Whether the woman gets an orgasm is not important. Thus, the Pinoy woman doesn't know what an orgasm is all about. She never gets to experience it. Well, maybe never is too strong a word. Perhaps the more accurate statement would be that she sees an orgasm as an incidental occurrence in the sexual act. An orgasm is never an objective, never a goal, in sex. It's always the satisfaction of the guy that's important. It's the amount of cum that comes out of the dickhead that's important.
This was me before I met Mara's Euro friends. And some Yanks, too, who I met on my own. They have
That's the general rule. There are, of course, exceptions. Very few, but there are. Noe's one of them.
Noe
Like all of the Pinoy men I've met, I met Noe on the net. (A bit of alliteration there.)
I liked his voice right from the start. Deep, husky -- very manly. And he knew what he wanted. He wasn't shy at all about sex. And I liked his looks from the start. He was very Pinoy in color: lovely brown. And he had big hands, very capable-looking hands.
Marathon
I got into the car with Noe at around 9 in the morning and we drove to this motel. At 11.45 that same morning, I got into a cab with Peter and went to this same motel. I had two dickheads fuck me that morning, and both were very satisfying and pleasurable meetings.
For a Pinoy, Noe's cock was large. It was hard and hot and long and brown and veined. He was gentle but forceful. I insist on safe sex, using condoms all the time. But Noe was forceful. He penetrated me despite my insistent pleas for him to put on a condom first. I got really excited by all this. He was a man who knew what he wanted and he was out to get it. But, after a while, he did give in and put on a condom.
Now, I'm not used to actively "directing" the play. I usually let the guys lead. But with Noe, it was different. I felt really free to ask for what I wanted, like being on top. I don't usually get on top because it tires me. But with Noe, I did and it was very satisfying. I came once, on top. It was great. He did grab me after a while and took the lead again, but wow. What a rush.
Liberation
It being the first time I was with Noe, I was tense and nervous at the start. I told Noe that I had this business meeting at 11.30 that same morning so I had to be out of there by 11 or 11.15. And I even sent Peter SMS, asking for confirmation of our 11.30 meeting. It was a tense 15 minutes, lying there on the bed with just a towel around me, waiting for Peter to confirm. Noe was busy giving me a massage, getting me to relax. I couldn't. I didn't know what to do, I was so tense.
And then the message from Peter came, confirming.
Surprisingly, that was all that I needed. Suddenly, I felt like the sexiest woman alive. I had one dickhead waiting to just fuck the daylights out of me and I had another waiting to do the exact same thing. I think that's what freed me to just ask for what I wanted from Noe. I asked to be on top and I got that; I asked to be fucked from behind and, boy, did I get that. It was a very uninhibited and lively hour.
Noe came on my tummy. Hot cum. Very hot and a lot of cum. And I mean a lot. (Almost made me want to ask him to give me a baby. But that's another story, my baby hunger.) But before he did, he ripped off the condom and penetrated me really hard and deep and just banged away. I never got to say anything. I was so excited just watching him have his way with me. Plain vanilla, yes, but wow. I must have come four times in all, a continuous stream of hot, wet, creamy cum.
I waited for Peter at a coffee shop. I felt wonderful and wondered if I looked it. I guess I didn't as the guys who passed by never gave me a second glance. It was the young, slim, petite thing at the other table that they stared at. Yeah, well...guess who's having another multiple in the next hour.
So did Peter fuck the daylights out of me? He sure did. Twice. While Noe came only once, Peter had to have another go at me. Very tiring. And he didn't use protection, either. He never did with me. I have no worries with him. I trust him completely. Insane, I know, but I do. This is only the second time I've been with Peter and the first time I've noticed how sweet he really is. He kept holding my hand in the cab, stroking it. He seemed really sincere that he felt good about being with me. He kept me in his arms while we were both regaining our strength, my head on his chest. That felt very comforting. Almost real.
(Sincerity. That's another issue I want to expound on.)
Peter just had to fuck me in the ass. It hurt like hell. That was the second time for me, the first time being with Alex. Yes, cold, distant Alex took my virgin ass. That hurt more than hell. I couldn't sit down for days. And it hurt to poo. After Peter, it hurt to pee and it hurt more to poo. At least Alex used a condom and lots of KY. Peter only had his birthday suit on and just a bit of spit.
At first, I protested against this unannounced attack on my ass. Peter showed his Dom side by shushing me like he would a child. The effect on me was immediate. I whimpered, making small protestations, my face grimacing in pain. I begged, I cried out -- to no avail. He kept shushing me sternly, pushing against my tight ass. I forced myself to relax but the pain wouldn't translate into pleasure. The only thing that kept me in the scene was Peter's reactions to my cries and pleas to stop: he was so turned on. He must have kept at it for about 15 minutes. Twice I thought I was going to pass out in pain but I managed to hang in there. My thighs were so strained, trembling under Peter's weight. Finally, he pulled out, went to wash, and came right back, praising me for being such a "good girl," and saying that he was so proud of me. I think he thought that I had given up my ass' virginity to him. My first impulse was to tell him the truth, that his friend, Alex, had already taken it 2 months earlier. But I desisted. And besides, I had no time. Before I knew it, I was on my back again, and Peter's still hard cock in my pussy. He came on my tummy.
The wrap up
All throughout the main scene (i.e., the fucking part), most of the guys really throw themselves into it without a break in, shall we say, characterization. No difficulty in staying in character. It's the transition scene into the ending (leaving the motel room and parting) that I find extremely uncomfortable.
(I should define the stages, give it structure, for easier reference and analysis.)
Peter, who is an experienced Dom, was surprisingly uncomfortable. But in the cab ride out of the motel back to where I was supposed to drop him off, he was his usual sweet self, holding my hand and stroking it, making small talk. The parting was easy and smooth. No uncomfortable hitches. No pain. I appreciated Peter for that. I couldn't help comparing him to Alex who wouldn't even show me if I pleased him or not. This is going to be a lengthy discussion, my experience with Alex. In a word, the experience with Alex is jarring. Unlike that with Noe and Peter. Noe was a smooth and easy experience. No break in character whatsoever.
Oh. And dinner. I was so determined yesterday afternoon that I was not taking rice that evening. Hah! When I got home, there was pork stew in tamarind base (sinigang), with lots of greens and squash. I couldn't help myself. I had a large serving of rice with the stew. Oh well. It wasn't the frist time I'd broken my resolve to diet. Better luck next time. But, definitely. I will have to increase my physical activity. Go back to running three times a week. That would really be great. Oh well.
Next: Sincerity; the Alex experience; what I really find insulting: a dickhead's fear of my becoming emotionally attached to him and clingy.
N.B. i really should start defining terms, like dickhead, which is not meant to be derogatory.
Friday, August 08, 2003
Too much stuffing
I was reviewing my first post and just had to laugh at myself. What a stuffed shirt! No wonder I'm alone. Who would want to hang around a serious wet blanket such as myself. I guess it had to do with the fact that lunch was late today. I had two servings of green mung beans sauteed in pork and garlic. Healthy stuff.
And then I had some chocolate.
Travel log? Where to? Discovering my inner slut? That should be interesting...
Next: Peter & Noe; what I had for dinner.
And then I had some chocolate.
Travel log? Where to? Discovering my inner slut? That should be interesting...
Next: Peter & Noe; what I had for dinner.
It's a start...
It's been on my mind forever. My world has rejected me for so many times already, it has to change. Now I know how the Christian God must feel like. No wonder he's inundated the world, cursed Sodom and Gomorrha, set loose the ten plagues on Egypt, and yet--
What power do I have?
So it's come down to this: acceptance of the dickhead, to be accepted by the dickhead. To be or not to be, what a question. It's a power question. That I should initiate such a paradigm shift. So this is how to create a world. It's all in my head.
The entire universe is in my head. In this universe, the dickhead accepts me for the purpose that I serve. It is to please the dickhead by submitting to him, thus, affirming his power--over me, over his life, over everything within reach. It all happens inside a motel room. It's sex. Bondage. Domination.
And through it all, I am shaped, I am affirmed, I am justified.
I call myself a novice submissive. I am actively looking for my Dom. I am on sex and swinger sites. I am all over the net.
I have angsts. I have frustrations. I have issues.
I have secret lusts. I have deep desires. I have needy needs and clingy emotions.
I hide all these, and show a cool demeanor, a strong character. I am in full control and I am a wreck.
Emyngalad
My life's supposed to start this year, my fortieth. I couldn't wait for it to start on its own, you know, kids, marriage, career. Not necessarily in that order. So I took a turn and thought I'd follow it on its own path. See what happens.
Ten years ago, I ended a long term relationship, which wasn't working, anyway, and decided to pursue a career in law. I went to school and worked hard, supporting myself through it all. It wasn't a brilliant performance. I was an adequate student, no brilliant insights, no sparks of genius. During this time, I taught myself to be the kind of person I wanted to be: strong, self-reliant, street-smart--in short, everything I needed to be to survive in a harsh reality. There were new things to learn, and old things to unlearn. It was tough but exciting. It was lonely being alone, but I had so many things to overcome.
After finishing school, I took the qualifying exams and failed. I took it twice more after that, consistently failing. After the dust settled, I took a good look around me and found nothing. For all my efforts to improve myself, I had just that to show for it. Nothing. And people just don't care. Nor should they. They have their own lives to live.
I was old and alone. Nobody wanted me. The brilliant people I studied under didn't want to have anything to do with me. I was a failure and no one wants to be reminded of failures. I was past marrying age, no one wants an old maid, especially one who wasn't aesthetically pleasing to the eye. I didn't fit the mold, to start with. I was too tall, too large, too assertive, too aggressive, too smart for a woman. In my world, women are demure, sitting beside the phone, or reclining on the bed, waiting for her man. I did that but no one came.
I was lonely. I'm still lonely. I don't feel sorry for myself. I know who I am and what I am capable of. I'm warm and loving, sensitive and intelligent. I'd make a remarkable partner for some lucky guy out there. If not, I'd make sure I was. People who know me believe that I would. It's been a fifteen-year-struggle. Anyone else would hvae buckled under the pressure. But I haven't given up yet. Not on me, not on others. They'll come around. I'll just have to make them.
This is an account of a journey. A travel log. A start.
Mara
I'm confused, I ask her questions. She clarifies wonderfully, sets me right in my head. She thinks Europeans are cold. She gets along with them quite nicely. She's cold, yes, but she sets me right, in my head.
We've been friends for a decade. We're not close, just for dinner and drinks. Friends for fun. I've never had the chance to share heartrending moments with Mara. I never had the urge to, come to think of it. But this journey into submission started because of Mara. Cold, faraway Mara. She doesn't seem to melt, nor does she seem to want to.
Perhaps it's because of age. She's a good eight years older, more experienced, more exposed, less inhibited. Accomplished, talented, bright. Impatient, unrelenting, unforgiving. Mara, my mentor. She thinks I should go see a shrink to set me straight, in my head, as to why I feel so rejected.
Alex
Mara's friend and lover. A strong Dom. Cold, distant. He makes sure that he is unreachable. He reminds you that he is unreachable, becoming inconsiderate in the process. He reminds me that he has other lovers. He is quick to point out that there is no point in comparing people but Mara always knows, down to the very second, when it was the last time they made love while I can't even remember exactly when I saw him last. Humiliation? Breaking down the sub? When we didn't even formally agree on a D/s "arrangement?" He wouldn't call it a relationship, as there is no such thing between him and me.
Alex more than satisfies my sexual desires. He takes me to my limits and coaxes me a bit further each time. But he is cold, distant. I get frostbite everytime I reach out for him. What warmth there is in him, he has hidden so deeply, it's gotten lost. His smile is icy, and his eyes, behind heavy walls of stone and steel.
I asked him to make me his sub. He said no. He didn't think that such an arrangement was good for me. He thinks that I should seek professional help.
Dax
Fat boy. Tied me up and gagged me, then asked me to struggle. He got off on watching me. We didn't get to fuck. Small dick, went limp the moment it touched pussy. It was play rape without the rape. The surprising thing was, I got thoroughly excited. It's been plain vanilla so far with Alex and the rest of Mara's Euro friends. But this was an eye-opener for me. I appreciate Dax for that, if only for that. Well, yes, only for that.
This is tiring. Too much admission. Heavy on the heart.
Next: Peter and Noe
What power do I have?
So it's come down to this: acceptance of the dickhead, to be accepted by the dickhead. To be or not to be, what a question. It's a power question. That I should initiate such a paradigm shift. So this is how to create a world. It's all in my head.
The entire universe is in my head. In this universe, the dickhead accepts me for the purpose that I serve. It is to please the dickhead by submitting to him, thus, affirming his power--over me, over his life, over everything within reach. It all happens inside a motel room. It's sex. Bondage. Domination.
And through it all, I am shaped, I am affirmed, I am justified.
I call myself a novice submissive. I am actively looking for my Dom. I am on sex and swinger sites. I am all over the net.
I have angsts. I have frustrations. I have issues.
I have secret lusts. I have deep desires. I have needy needs and clingy emotions.
I hide all these, and show a cool demeanor, a strong character. I am in full control and I am a wreck.
Emyngalad
My life's supposed to start this year, my fortieth. I couldn't wait for it to start on its own, you know, kids, marriage, career. Not necessarily in that order. So I took a turn and thought I'd follow it on its own path. See what happens.
Ten years ago, I ended a long term relationship, which wasn't working, anyway, and decided to pursue a career in law. I went to school and worked hard, supporting myself through it all. It wasn't a brilliant performance. I was an adequate student, no brilliant insights, no sparks of genius. During this time, I taught myself to be the kind of person I wanted to be: strong, self-reliant, street-smart--in short, everything I needed to be to survive in a harsh reality. There were new things to learn, and old things to unlearn. It was tough but exciting. It was lonely being alone, but I had so many things to overcome.
After finishing school, I took the qualifying exams and failed. I took it twice more after that, consistently failing. After the dust settled, I took a good look around me and found nothing. For all my efforts to improve myself, I had just that to show for it. Nothing. And people just don't care. Nor should they. They have their own lives to live.
I was old and alone. Nobody wanted me. The brilliant people I studied under didn't want to have anything to do with me. I was a failure and no one wants to be reminded of failures. I was past marrying age, no one wants an old maid, especially one who wasn't aesthetically pleasing to the eye. I didn't fit the mold, to start with. I was too tall, too large, too assertive, too aggressive, too smart for a woman. In my world, women are demure, sitting beside the phone, or reclining on the bed, waiting for her man. I did that but no one came.
I was lonely. I'm still lonely. I don't feel sorry for myself. I know who I am and what I am capable of. I'm warm and loving, sensitive and intelligent. I'd make a remarkable partner for some lucky guy out there. If not, I'd make sure I was. People who know me believe that I would. It's been a fifteen-year-struggle. Anyone else would hvae buckled under the pressure. But I haven't given up yet. Not on me, not on others. They'll come around. I'll just have to make them.
This is an account of a journey. A travel log. A start.
Mara
I'm confused, I ask her questions. She clarifies wonderfully, sets me right in my head. She thinks Europeans are cold. She gets along with them quite nicely. She's cold, yes, but she sets me right, in my head.
We've been friends for a decade. We're not close, just for dinner and drinks. Friends for fun. I've never had the chance to share heartrending moments with Mara. I never had the urge to, come to think of it. But this journey into submission started because of Mara. Cold, faraway Mara. She doesn't seem to melt, nor does she seem to want to.
Perhaps it's because of age. She's a good eight years older, more experienced, more exposed, less inhibited. Accomplished, talented, bright. Impatient, unrelenting, unforgiving. Mara, my mentor. She thinks I should go see a shrink to set me straight, in my head, as to why I feel so rejected.
Alex
Mara's friend and lover. A strong Dom. Cold, distant. He makes sure that he is unreachable. He reminds you that he is unreachable, becoming inconsiderate in the process. He reminds me that he has other lovers. He is quick to point out that there is no point in comparing people but Mara always knows, down to the very second, when it was the last time they made love while I can't even remember exactly when I saw him last. Humiliation? Breaking down the sub? When we didn't even formally agree on a D/s "arrangement?" He wouldn't call it a relationship, as there is no such thing between him and me.
Alex more than satisfies my sexual desires. He takes me to my limits and coaxes me a bit further each time. But he is cold, distant. I get frostbite everytime I reach out for him. What warmth there is in him, he has hidden so deeply, it's gotten lost. His smile is icy, and his eyes, behind heavy walls of stone and steel.
I asked him to make me his sub. He said no. He didn't think that such an arrangement was good for me. He thinks that I should seek professional help.
Dax
Fat boy. Tied me up and gagged me, then asked me to struggle. He got off on watching me. We didn't get to fuck. Small dick, went limp the moment it touched pussy. It was play rape without the rape. The surprising thing was, I got thoroughly excited. It's been plain vanilla so far with Alex and the rest of Mara's Euro friends. But this was an eye-opener for me. I appreciate Dax for that, if only for that. Well, yes, only for that.
This is tiring. Too much admission. Heavy on the heart.
Next: Peter and Noe
