Nowhere to go

Four solid days of "I have nowhere to be, and nothing to do if I don't want to" was fucking fabulous, thanks.

Back to regular updates next week. I don't think updating this from the parents' house is a good idea, do you?

Getting the hell out of Dodge

Saturday, I go on vacation. No, Joseph isn't flying out here, which as I mentioned, doesn't ultimately surprise me. So instead, I made plans of my own, which involve me going on a vacation all by myself, which is really what I prefer anyway.

It starts off with Jay, though. He's taking me to a show I want to see on Saturday night, then dropping me off so that I can travel to my actual vacation destination. For not-dating, we certainly see a lot of each other.

Honestly, I think my relationship with him is better when I don't have an official one. There are so many fewer expectations to run afoul of. And I think that's what really did us in - my expectations. I have lots of them. Lots of very high expectations. And I have plans, big plans, for how I think things should go. When I was younger, I would be absolutely enraged when things did not go according to my plans. I never threw tantrums, but that doesn't mean that I wasn't absolutely horrid at times. I have a bit of a temper, shall we say.

I still have the temper, but I've learned a great deal more control and finesse. And while I still don't like my plans ruined, it doesn't usually ruin my entire day (or week, or month... you get the picture). Anyway, in a relationship, I find that I have lots of expectations for my partner, and that Jay had some serious trouble living up to them. Admittedly, some were probably a touch unrealistic. So the fault is not entirely his.

Since he's simply in the role of "straight male close friend", there's considerably fewer expectations I place on him, and consequently, I'm considerably happier. So I will continue to date him, without really dating him, because it makes my life a whole hell of a lot happier.

Turn it over

Jay is unsubtle at the best of times. His idea of a "subtle" hint would be to lay on my bed in a suggestive pose.

We've both been known to switch, and he's been hinting that he was in the mood for that lately anyway. So Saturday night, after I got home from work, he came over, and we went out to dinner, having a lovely and suggestive conversation the whole way there and back. Maybe it's wrong, but I'm highly entertained by giving him a turn in public, with the things I whisper into his ear. I nearly got him to blush, which I count as a victory for me.

Upon arriving back at la maison, he proceeded to lay spreadeagled on my bed - the suggestive pose, of course. I laughed and crawled into bed with him, asking if he was trying to tell me something. He played dumb, as he usually does. My thoughts starting swirling, coming up with possible scenarios.

Our conversation moved on, but my brain didn't - and neither did his. We'd been talking about how much I loved skinny men with muscles, when he remarked that gee, since he's lost so much weight, maybe the collar fits him now? The collar in question is the one in the picture I put up here - just a simple leather collar with a single drop ring. We have a couple of other collars, but we both tend to like the simplicity of this one.

Being as how the collar was right next to my bed, since I'd just used it, I grabbed it and he put it on. Perhaps not surprisingly, it fit.

Now, I consider myself, mainly, a sub. I don't like to be in charge, except in my vanilla life (where it's better for all concerned if I am). But if there is some patron saint or deity of domme-liness, she smacked me upside the head but good as soon as I saw Jay wearing that collar. We are talking but good here, people. I grabbed the ring forcefully, pulling him towards me for a deep kiss, and gods if it wasn't wonderful. That was more than enough to raise the temperature of the room by a good five degrees, so I turned the a/c up and stripped Jay down.

Throughout the entire process, I had the most wicked little gleeful grin upon my face. Since I've known him for so long, I know exactly what makes Jay squirm, and I took large advantage of that fact, tying off his hands to the collar to keep them out of my way. The session was a mixture of some of his favorite things (cock and ball bondage, spanking, nipple clamps), and some of mine (which are mostly the things that make him squirm - tickling, and things between his toes).

I can certainly understand the appeal and desire to top. The notion that I put that look of absolute terrified bliss on someone's face is a heady one, indeed. And oh, there was terrified bliss going on - especially when I added a little bit of predicament bondage to the mix. I'll have to remember that it's quite fun to tie Jay's feet to his cock and then tickle them.

Ultimately, topping is as much about pleasing the other person as yourself, I think. Obviously, he was pleased - he's been profusely thanking me since Saturday - but I too was pleased, because I knew that he was. How's that for a feedback loop.

In the end, after we'd dissected the session, we decided that while we both enjoyed switching, we both prefer our usual role - He as the dom, me as the sub. And I'm quite alright with that.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to brush up on some of my rustier bondage skills. Some of it was absolutely sloppy, and I abhor sloppy work.

I love waking up in the morning and having sex.

Like I needed this lesson

So Chris, the eater-of-the-cool-whip, is the roommate that Rabbit and I were planning on kicking out. One small problem - neither of us really wanted to tell him this.

See, Chris is a bit delusional, and thinks that we like him. He's one of those "nice, but dumb" people. And, well, while Rabbit and I can be wicked bitchy, we didn't want to be that bitch. Plus, I was the one who originally invited Chris to live here. This is not the first crap roommate I have picked; perhaps I should not have the final say in these matters.

When confronted about the disappearing dessert topping, Chris surprised the hell out of me and admitted to it. He did not, however, admit that he's ever stolen food before (which he has. And it's always the good stuff, like cool whip, or Chips Ahoy!). Still, at least he admitted it this time - not that he had much choice; Rabbit was on vacation so it was either him or me that ate the damn stuff, and if I was that irritated, chances are I didn't do it.

I was quite proud of confronting him. I don't have any problem taking strangers to task, or the kids at work, or my co-workers, but people I live with? Oh man, I do not want to come home to a fight. That is just a huge pain in my ass, and it's not the kind of pain that I like, so I'll pass, thanks. Of course, this just sets up the situation to get worse, because if you don't let someone know that they're doing something wrong, they're probably not going to get it, and when they are repeat offenders of my sensibilities, I get very, very angry.

So I was trying to figure out how to tell Chris that he wasn't going to be signing the new lease with us this fall, and that someone was coming over to look at the apartment, when I open my email, and hey, there's something from Chris.

Hey, I just wanted to let you know, I found an apartment on the south side of town, so I will be moving out at the end of August. I wanted to let you know before I told the landlords.

Problem fucking solved.

However, the lesson here is that if I ignore an unpleasant duty long enough, it fixes itself - which is patently not true, except in this case.

Hey, maybe it will work with my grad school financial aid (no, no it won't, I need to stop dreaming on that one).

Oh, hell.

Because I needed another reason to not want to get up and go to work, I dreamed this morning.

The first was boring; I was in a grocery store - one I've "been" in before - shopping, etc. That one left when I hit the alarm the first time.

But the second one, oh, the second one. I don't quite remember how it started. But in it, I'm lying in bed, the mood is romantic. Jay (or at least I'm about 99% sure it's Jay) is lying on top of me, talking to me. He touches my face, as if he can't believe that I'm quite real, and all I can understand him saying is "You're worth waiting for," as he wraps his arms around me.

I'm not a romantic person. Hearts and flowers and candy really don't do it for me. But this dream did. I felt so intensely and indescribably loved and cherished. Just the entire notion of someone waiting for me, as if their entire life was spent doing so... *sigh*. It's straight out of a romance novel (I do read those).

So like I said. Didn't exactly make me want to get up and go to work. Especially not when the dream ended when work texted me and asked me to come in early. Dammit.

Yes, he is for real.

He ate my damn cool whip.

I bought some cool whip on sale about a week ago, to go with the strawberries and dessert shells that I got on sale. It's summer, that means strawberry shortcake, bitches. I made some for me and Jay last weekend, and it was good. I used no more than half of the cool whip, even factoring in the two doses of strawberry-and-cake-and-sugar goodness I made for myself last week.

Tonight, I ventured into the fridge to kill the last dessert shell, as well as make a dent in the new pound of strawberries I bought yesterday. I grab the cool whip container, and it is suspiciously light.

I open it up: suspicions confirmed.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" I am relatively sure that this was heard up to ten miles away.

There are a measly two tablespoons of cool whip left.

He ate my damn cool whip.

He being Chris, the roommate that I hate, who maybe I should tell isn't living here next year.

The cool whip joins a long list of my food that has been violated by Chris, including an entire box of Nilla Wafers, a sleeve of Chips Ahoy!, and an entire bag of tortilla chips.

I have since taken to storing food in my room, whenever possible. This is bad, because it encourages me to eat in my room, which was a habit I'd gotten out of after college, and one that I am not pleased to have picked up again. However, it does prevent food stealing pretty effectively. I am not so rich that I don't care when someone pilfers my shit.

I wrote a note on the whiteboard in the kitchen. Pretty simple. "What happened to my damn cool whip."

I heard him moving about shortly after I wrote it, and stayed in my room, because I was not in the mood for a direct confrontation (I need to get over that).

He wrote a reply.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't think you would be so angry."

I left that up there for Rabbit to see tomorrow when she gets home from vacation, and responded.

"Yeah, except it's not the first time that food of mine has just disappeared. If you want some, please ASK. Don't just take - it's wicked rude and inconsiderate."

You would think this would be standard roommate etiquette - if you didn't pay for it, and you don't have permission, you shouldn't be eating it. Obviously I was wrong.

Attention_whore++

I have a little bit of an exhibitionist streak, but not enough to actually post any naked pictures on here. Still, I've finally decided to add a profile picture. In it, I am wearing one of my favorite collars, and you get to see my hair, which I am in love with all over again after seeing this picture.

I am in fact a girl, no matter how much I may act like a guy; therefore it is a-okay for me to be in love with my hair (and I totally am).

Now, I started this blog mainly as a way to work out some stuff about my life, mainly kinky, that I couldn't really talk about anywhere else. I like to think that I have done that, quite a bit, and I see no reason to stop doing so. It's immensely helpful just to get it all out, somewhere, before I have to talk intelligently about it. Not that I talk about all of this, but, well, you know. It's always helpful to have one's thoughts organized. And mine are frequently disheveled at best.

But knowing that other people read this... well shit, it's damn fun. If enjoying this fact, even perhaps getting a small, non-inflating ego boost from it, makes me a stereotypical "blogger", then so be it. I'm human, after all, and I like it when people pay attention to me. I like it a lot. I think it's one of the reasons why I'm a sub, actually. Subs tend to get lots of people paying attention to them, and usually in very delicious ways.

Not that I'm above paying some attention to other people. Of course not; I'm not completely narcissistic. But... I like it when people pay attention to me. And knowing that people read this blog (and will now be looking at a picture of me, regardless of the fact that you can't really identify me from it) is a really nice way of getting attention paid to me. Sure, there might not be that many people doing it, but that's perfectly okay. In the end, this is all for me anyway.

But I'm an attention whore. And I'm okay with that.

Sweet dreams

"Mine", he says, sliding his hand around my body to gently nestle around my His cunt, the other lazily playing in my hair.

Me, half-asleep, giving a small murmur of assent. Snuggling back against him, enjoying the feel of his arms around me and his hands upon me.

"All mine", he growls in satisfaction, curling around me.

"I borrowed it."

This stops him. "Oh?" he casually asks. A touch of worry in his voice; he knows he's not the only one who would stake a claim.

Drowsily I almost nod; "mmmhmm" I say in my sleepyvoice, much higher than my usual voice. I sound young and innnocent.

"In the shower," I tell him. "It's waterproof", referring to the vibrator currently hiding in the drawer next to my bed.

"Reallllllly", he drawls, slipping a finger between my lips, brief worry over before it can take hold.

"Mmmhmm" I respond again. "I hope that's okay."

"Oh yes. You may borrow it for that any time you like."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I like the idea of that very, very much," he tells me. I have independent verification: his cock, hard, nestled between my cheeks.

"Okay" I singsong, and drift off to sleep.

Small and getting smaller

I was out with my kids at a bookstore tonight, just to get them out of the house. And to make reading look good to them. They don't do enough of it, I think.

I was trying to herd one of them towards the checkout line, and he kept getting distracted. He wandered over to a "Summer Reading!" table, and picked up Belle de Jour's book - which I hadn't realized had actually come out.

He squealed and picked it up, and I was all like "Uh, no, you shouldn't bring that one back." And he gabbers on, saying "Oh, I know who this is!"

"No, you don't."

"Yeah! She had a movie, it was like 'Call Me' or something..."

"No, she didn't. She had a blog."

"No no no, she was in a movie..."

"No. She wasn't."

He then commenced into the checkout line, to buy fucking Paris Hilton's book (perhaps I should have let him get Belle's). Then I hear this:

"What's a blog?"

NEVER MIND.

Synchronicity (II)

I mentioned last night that Jay and I had a conversation. That's a bit wrong; we actually had a few conversations this past weekend, and one ongoing one.

I find it interesting that dear Hannah is blogging about the topic of the ongoing conversation as well. A year or so back, it was one of my biggest complaints about blogging - as soon as I thought up something to write about, I discovered someone else already had.

Anyway, Jay and I had an ongoing kink conversation this weekend. It started, oh, Friday night? He was pulling my hair (which I adore) and telling me how much liked being "a little bit mean" to me. After things calmed down a bit, I, ever the curious one, asked, quite innocently "How mean is a little mean?"

This flustered him a bit - here I was expecting him to talk, and at a time like this (we were both naked, in my bed, of course)! I changed the question to "how mean would you want to be to me?", and I think there were a few rephrases after that as well. Regardless, it had the desired effect: Jay was talking.

The conversation wended its way through whips and paddles and crops and floggers, and how much Jay likes the cane because of its "precision", and how he hates the flogger for its lack thereof. And how he knows I'm not so much into pain, per se. I responded that the fact that I'm not into pain, as such, is true; however under certain circumstances, certain types of pain, in regulated amounts, is a-okay with me.

This got him musing onto other things. We probably haven't gone through the kink-list in a few years - at least, not since before I dumped his ass. (As for what I'm doing with him right now, it's called "not-dating", and it basically involves us having sex and going on dates, but not in a relationship. I like him much better this way.) We reaffirmed the fact that needles freak my shit out, and that other sharp objects are not welcome in my bedroom.

He asked me about wax, which I knew he had an interest in. That's one of the mutable list items - it really does depend on my mood. Since it was right after talk of needles and knives and whatnot, I was not in the mood, and declared it a "no". Fire and I sort of have a long-standing, mutual truce backed by distrust - fire doesn't burn me or my house, I allow it to cook my food and occasionally light a candle or two. Fire twelve inches above me, melting something that's dripping on me... not so much at this time.

Jay allowed as how that was all right, then turned the tables on me, and asked me for something that I would like to do that we had never done. That was a bit trickier. Now, I trust Jay - at least as far as I am capable of doing so. I know that he cares for and about me, I know that he would never deliberately hurt me, I know that I will probably never, ever be able to make him cry or scare him away. But I was a bit scared by the question, whether logically or not. Sure, I've known him for the better part of a decade (and freaked him out when I mentioned that), but... I didn't want to scare him away. Still, I thought to myself, I hadn't yet, so perhaps something in my deep dark head is shareable.

I went safe though. I mentioned as how we still hadn't gotten around to building a wooden pony, and I thought that was a great idea. It still is, apparently. Perhaps I will have to find those plans I drew up. We talked about a few things that are on my list of "nice ideas, not practical", such as doing a shoot for Hogtied or something. I think it would be intensely fun. I also think it would possibly be one of the stupidest ideas ever, because with my luck, the wrong person would see it.

As I was sifting through my list of things I could possibly tell Jay, I noticed something - the same thing Hannah did, incidentally, and that is that the list has shifted. Things that I would never have been interested in - canes, voyeurism, etc. - a few years ago have become definite interests. And things that I was only somewhat interested in - anything remotely to do with anal, floggers, paddles, etc. - have become huge yeses as well. There are still some nos on there, and I'm pretty sure they'll stay nos. But... there's a few nos on there that I could possibly be persuaded on. Jay is very pleased that one of these is mixing electricity and sex, because he likes the idea verymuch. I think it's because he's an engineer, and is trying to combine two of his favorite things.

When I first noticed this happening a few years ago ("oh my god, I was never in to that kink before! what the hell") I was a bit scared. The kinky side of my personality still scares me a little bit - it's definitely not mainstream or accepted as such, and I live in fear that one day, the Wrong Person will find out about it - but considerably less now. The fear from expanding the list came from the fact, I think, that I hadn't even come to terms in any way with the fact that I was kinky at all, much less into more than one kink, on an ongoing and expanding basis.

Still, I've had some time to get used to the idea by now. And I like kink. And I'm okay with the fact that I may, sometimes, come across a new kink and like it - whether that goes under the "nice idea, but impractical", "I could be persuaded under the right conditions", or "oh hells yes" column. I'm smart enough to keep myself safe, and I'm lucky enough to have at least one person in my life willing to come along for the ride with me - when I feel like letting him. All in all, I figure I've got it pretty good.

And I will never, ever buy needles.

Independence Day

Because I had to work today, Jay and I went out last night to see some fireworks. There's a number of towns around here that don't do them on the 4th, so we took a ride. We walked around the town a bit, then found a bench in a park and sat and waited for the fireworks to begin. Jesus Christ, that almost sounds suggestive. We noted that all of the test fireworks seemed to be placed directly behind a tree. We are awesome at picking spots to watch fireworks.

We debated moving. About two minute before the fireworks were set to start, my phone rang. I was taken aback for two reasons. The first was because I actually heard it ring; usually it's on vibrate. The second was because, hey, who the hell would call me at 9:30 on a Monday night? It was my generic "hey, your phone's ringing" ring, so that didn't give me any clues.

I flipped it open. Oh, Joseph-chan. Even though I was with Jay, I took the call.

"What the hell do you want?"

He was calling about an email I'd sent him earlier, that apparently was confusing and cryptic. I explained it to him. It had to do with not going to a certain landmark on a certain day, because I had information that suggested one of my kids would be there. Awkward, to say the least.

He talked a bit more, Jay studiously silent next to me. I figured he knew who I was talking to. Joseph went on to say that since his girlfriend's plans were a bust, he too wasn't going anywhere, and so he would not be seeing me the last week in July. I was not surprised. Nor was I particularly disappointed. Honestly, it solved - at least temporarily - a number of niggling little problems for me. I made the appropriate sympathetic noises, listened to him apologize for making me take vacation and then not following through, etc.

He asked what I was doing; I told him I was in a certain town waiting for fireworks, so he said his good-byes. After I hung up, Jay asked who it was, surprising me. I told him, and also told him that Joseph would not in fact be coming out, so he could go do his little dance of joy. He declined, as that's not really his style.

Through the fireworks we talked. Let me say that again: Jay and I had a conversation. Admittedly, we didn't talk each other's ears off, but we had a running conversation. We were on a date-type-thing, and had a conversation. This is a major development. Jay, in fact, has been talking a lot more lately - and we've been talking about very interesting things. Anyway, we talked about how I hadn't been surprised that Joseph bailed, what I might do for vacation now, and how Jay had never really been worried that I'd sleep with Joseph anyway.

"Well, there's a few reasons why. One, he's thirty-what, three? And has a semi-almost-serious girlfriend, who at the least is living with him, who is his baby mama, and he has a kid, so that would have stopped it on his end."

"Don't assume that. Because it wouldn't have."

"Oh. Then that definitely puts him into rat bastard status. Two, I know you. You don't do sex without lots of emotion involved. And you wouldn't want to get yourself in the middle of that. So I wasn't worried anyway."

Apparently Jay thought the me and Joseph having sex deal was my idea. Silly man. Although he did have a point about me, and how I do sex.

Still, this leaves me with one problem - what the hell am I going to do for vacation? I've got two weeks, and while one of them will be spent at my parents', I have that whole, delicious first week to get myself into trouble. Mmm, the possibilities. It is good to be an independent woman.

And speaking of, Happy 4th, everyone. Here's hoping that true freedom does not get relegated to the "antiquities" pile this year.

Things that make you go...

Joseph and I talked on the phone late last week - a rarity. Apparently the girlfriend and child were visiting at an aunt's place for two days, so the lucky boy had the house to himself. What does he do? Call me. Naturally.

I used to completely hate talking on the phone, and in fact would only talk with family, under threats of bodily harm from my mother. It's awkward. I'm a visual person, more than auditory, so without the body language, a lot of times I was adrift in a conversation. Since I've gotten older, I've gotten much, much better at it, and in fact will call up complete strangers and ask to buy their cars. But I still don't like talking on the phone, especially not to Joseph.

Joseph falls under the "guys who want to get in my pants" clause, which goes something like this:

If there is a guy, and he wants to get into my pants, I will have absolutely nothing to say to him in a one-on-one conversation. I will also be incapable of replying to any attempts he makes at conversation.

It's sucky. The worst of it is, Joseph and I are both wordy people. Dude is a goddamn writer, for fuck's sake. Me, well, I just have a big mouth. And yet, every time I talk to him, I look like a fucking idiot. Unlike Jay's and my silent dinners, I think in this case it is because I am trying too hard to be witty and entertaining, and failing miserably because I am too scared to try. Or too lazy to think anything up, one or the other. Email is fine though - probably because it's okay if I take fifteen minutes to compose a single sentence in reply.

Anyway, Joseph and I. We talked. Not much, since he called on Wednesday night when I had to get to sleep for my four-hour nap between shifts. We did talk a bit though. Two things stuck with me from the conversation (well, maybe three or four):

1. He is not into kink.
2. He is, in fact, amoral, and likes me because I don't bother to judge him for this.
3. He is not telling the girlfriend that he is spending a week with another woman.
4. "No matter what we wind up being to each other, I want you to know that I'll always love you, and consider you one of my closest friends, and I'll always be there for you and look out for you."

One of these things is not like the others. I didn't really know how to respond to the last - my silence was long enough that he started getting worried that I was getting emotional. Obviously he doesn't know me as well as he thinks, because I don't fucking cry. Certainly not for him. And it wasn't that I was emotional over it, but more like Hmmm. That's interesting. I wonder what exactly that means to him. I would not consider his plans 'looking out for me' in any way, shape, form, etc.

I also gleefully told him that if he were my significant other, and I found out that he'd spent a week out-of-state with another woman, trying to seduce her, and had told me instead that he was going to see a number of old friends and family, I would castrate him. He allowed as how that was probably true. Maybe he does know me. Maybe the word "girlfriend" means something different to him; in fact I'm almost sure it does. But if some dude were my boyfriend, that implies that I have the exclusive use of his cock, and I tend to be possessive about these things.

As for the not into kink, that is highly unfortunate, because I think he'd be really good at it. And I think I would like it a lot. But his loss. Me, I'll stay kinky, please and thank you.

So basically, I will never, ever date this man. He's an amoral, selfish and kinkless bastard, with some really interesting vocabulary. But he's fun to hang out with. There is certainly no sin in that.

All the things she said

Friday nights are tough for me. I work until at least 11:00, and then get to go home, sleep for a few hours, and be back at work at 8:00 the next morning. It's thrilling, I assure you.

Last night, I wound up working until 11:30 (why no, it's not acceptable to parade around the house in your underwear! And no, I don't think it's too much to ask you to follow the rules; why do you ask?) and not going to sleep until nearly 3:00. I had set my alarm soon after getting home, because ideally I wanted to be asleep shortly after midnight. My brain had other ideas, unfortunately.

As I was falling asleep, the little voice in my head said that I should set the alarm on my mobile, just to make sure that I woke up in the morning. As the mobile was right next to me, and the process is quick and doesn't involve me leaving bed, I did so, setting it for 7:00 am. That gives me forty minutes to shower and get dressed before having to leave for work.

I woke up this morning to my mobile's alarm, dazed and confused and wondering why the hell I was even hearing it. Turns out my power went out at some point during the night shortly after I went to sleep, and had but recently come back on. Awesome.

So now it's off to work. Getting woken up by the mobile alarm is certainly more pleasant than waking to the "work" ringtone, but not nearly as pleasant as staying in bed, fast asleep.