We'll always have Paris

I'm hardly in a blogging mood at the moment, with problems and annoyances either so bourgeois, petty and first world that I'm embarrassed to admit them here, or too big and painful to write down. Neither type are particularly sexy, especially not to me.

However, on the upside, I'm off to Paris for a few days which, even a misery like me can appreciate is a pretty nice thing. I shall put on 5lbs purely in croissant pastry and white wine and come back a happier, if slightly rounder, girl. I'm sure that, knowing Paris as I do, I will also be substantially poorer. Diet and thrift can wait until Tuesday though, right?

Profile of the week..

That's right. The weekly post that writes itself. You know, sometimes I worry that I'm never going to see a profile in the week that I'm going to want to share with y'all. I always seem to though, don't I?
After my (mis)adventures in D/s this week, I have been looking at profiles with at least the intent of messaging a local charming, datable Dominant with his own teeth and no discernable mental health issues that we need to talk about in advance. Nothing doing so far but I wonder if this guy lives in your town... (don't all rush at once, girls)

Totally sick and perverted Master. Seeks stupid, brainless fuck-pig-whore-shit for total abuse. A slave is nothing more than disgusting pile of shit that shouldn't exist. Only limit is death

His only limit is death, right? Be pretty embarrassing if you went round and he wanted to start hacking your fingers off. What's the protocol there, I wonder!?
Sadly, I don't know any stupid, brainless fuck-pig-whore-shits. And don't get me started on someone seeking something that shouldn't exist, he's never going to be happy doing that! Besides, the idea just turns my brain inside out.

Smoke and Mirrors

In the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy and Toto take a long journey up the Yellow Brick road in order to meet the Wizard, and get home to Kansas (although frankly, Kansas didn't look great did it?). On this trip, I'm sure you remember, she meets a variety of figures also with needs and they all sort of talk eachother into the idea that this mythical Wizard might be able to help them all out. They get there and lo, the Wizard happens to be a slightly eccentric old man with no powers, no special abilities and no way of giving them what they need. He had nothing. Zip, zilch, nada.
How fucking awful must that have felt, huh?
Happily for that fairy story, the moral seems to be that Dorothy and all of her friends already possessed what they believed they were seeking and went on to lead fulfilling and purposeful lives. Happy days.

Now, I'm not Dorothy, and W doesn't stand for Wizard. I'm not trying to get home.
My point is really that last night, the curtain fell between W and I and the line, the line that divides the D/s just sort of.. dissolved. That's the problem. Power isn't anything really to do with physical strength, although thats always a bonus, right? It isn't anything to do with who is the brightest, or richest. It's just about who wants to take the power. But as a submissive, you have to take the view that the person you are submitting to, has got their shit together to the degree that they are equal to the term 'Dominant'.  And when something happens that kind of reveals that it's just a fairly average man, a trick of the mind that allows you to hand over all sorts of authority to someone else, you can't unsee it for that person. I don't know if anyone can become un-average in your perception.

D/s isn't so much about sex for me, really. I mean, it IS about sex, but I can get kinky sex anywhere. I can find a man who is willing to nourish my inner masochist. I can see a man tonight, who will pin me down or tie me up and cover me with bruises and whisper dirty things in my ear and fuck me until I see stars. The physical control is always covered for most women with above average looks and brains. What I'm really looking for is a mental and emotional connection that exists within and without the bedroom. I don't need to have orgasms when I'm with my Dominant - my pleasure is in his pleasure. I don't even really need to physically have teh sex to attain fulfilment. But as the s, this only really works if you think the D gets it.
I used to think W gets it, but I... I have changed my mind. If I didn't get an orgasm (and I so bloody didn't, reader), it was not because he had decided I was not to have one, it was because he didn't know how to give me one. He got me on the bed, told me to 'get ready' (take off my pants, is what he meant) and then gave me less than 10 minutes of missionary position sex where he lay directly on top of me and crushed my poor ribs, and then after he came he got off so that we could cuddle. He didn't smell nice.
I know that after 2 years of celibacy that the concept of actual sex may have taken on an idealisation and importance extra to the reality of it. But I don't think I can remember anything like that before, but the worst moment was when he asked me if it had been any good with such appallingly genuine concern and I realised that this whole experience had not been about him underlining that sex between us would not be about prioritising my sexual pleasure over his. It was about him not knowing what to do with me. And clearly not minding too much about physical hygiene.
We then got up so he could watch the end of the Spain-France game. I just wanted to go home, but we had decided that he would take me home later and then he wanted to watch a film after the game and I was too polite to demand. In almost ironically poor timing, 'Love Actually' was on the telly, so we watched that, uncomfortably. He wanted to cuddle on the couch, I wanted to go home and not smell him. After the film he wanted to go back to bed with me for a while, I wanted to go home. He brought me home.

As a submissive, I cannot be the educator. I cannot give the 'here is my clitoris' talk, I cannot give the 'have a shower' talk. I cannot teach him how to read body language, or not pick inappropriate films for adulterous wives. But as he's 31, and apparently Dominant, why should I have to? I know he's had girlfriends, had submissive girlfriends even. Am I the only one who has failed to see the magic in the experience?
What's worse in a way, is that it doesn't really add up. It's never felt weird with him before. The last time I went to his house it was great, it was hot. Hotter than July. The only difference was that we weren't going to have sex that time so I never ..knew?
He's texted me three times already today. I don't know how to say to him that I don't want to see him again. Because I was obviously into him before last night. And now I'm not. And I won't be anymore.
Gah. Back to the drawing board, I guess.

It's Such A Pity

That is all.

The loving kind

Well, here we are. Thursday night. After all this time I have still contrived, within the terms of the Clinton defence at the very least, not to have sex. After this week though, where fun (for fun read: spanking, biting, restraint and many many orgasms) has definitely been had, I'm not sure I mind too much. I will confess though, it has hardly been for the want of trying to attain servicing, in one case I was physically ill-disposed (evil red wand fairy, strikes again) and in the other, the perfumed massage oil had already been rubbed into my snatch and ass before I could gasp 'that's not condom-friendly lube!' I guess I could have had a quick shower and we could have started again but certainly from my perspective we were having a good time and we both got our happy ending (I had several happy endings that afternoon, how can I complain?).

This weekend though, I am fairly determined teh sex will happen, as W is back in town, and from tomorrow so will I be. W and I are undertaking fairly extensive textual foreplay in anticipation of our Saturday night in, and we're meeting for a coffee tomorrow. I am very excited.
I am troubled though, as W has been hinting at asking whether there is anything I should tell him that has happened since he went away. I never agreed to exclusivity with W, but I know in my heart that he won't exactly be overjoyed to find that, actually, I've been having a pretty good time. I'm not proud of this, and I know that means I need to tell him, but I don't think we'll talk about it unless he asks me directly. He is also putting on the pressure to have me sleep over. It's not as if he doesn't understand my situation in terms of Mr G and Little G, that its not easy to say 'alright, I'll stay out all night' at will. He knows all of that, but seems to conveniently forget when it comes to us making plans.
If I am being honest though, it is not just the inconvenience/alibi factor that I find difficult when we talk about how our evening will go; I am concerned on what the intimacy will mean - and on more than one level. Firstly and most obviously, when you have sex with someone and fall asleep in their arms until a dreamy and hopefully sexy morning arrives, it puts a slightly different complexion on the thing than 'had a meal, had sex, stayed for a cuddle and a chat, went home'. It does for me, anyway, add an element of risk that the smooshy girl 'feelings' I might clearly do have, in retrospect, develop into something more. Little point, in falling madly in love, especially when you consider that we live no further than maybe 5 miles apart and haven't managed to see each other for 1 month. And that's the second thing. Submissive to him I may be, but I wonder really how healthy it would be for me, even if I easily could sleep over. Once in a month over that distance does not exactly scream 'can't get enough of you baby, come and be part of my life' does it? Clearly, he's been away and there's a date that never happened, but we're still talking about a month.
But it's a selfish, contrary paradox in a way. What am I really saying in this post? "Show me you adore me but I'm never going to give you everything anyway" and "you're not behaving in the way I want, so although I am determined to keep you separate from my life, I still need to punish you?".

I recognise that, and don't like it, but I don't mean to be selfish, and I certainly don't want to punish him. I adore him. But I notice that I am still new on this particular ideological road of mutual sexual freedom and I guess that I still need to practise a little bit not needing to be in control of other people's behaviour, especially my primary Dominant male. I don't want to drive. But I think I still have the right to try and protect myself and my feelings. 
Needs moar work, I guess. Still, whatever the outcome, hopefully Baby gonna get laid!

Profile of the week..

Bet you thought I'd forgotten, huh?
Well here it is, better late than never.

I love this profile simply because who wouldn't want a dominant as paranoid as this guy? Only a real women, right?
All answers on a postcard to the nearest mental hospital please..

Im here looking for REAL woman who will meet and not just mess around online. If youre not willing to meet or not a real woman then im not interested.

 Im already sick of all the fakes and liars here, if youre all talk and just gonna bullshit us all then why did you bother making a profile?

 Come and talk and if youre worthwhile i will want to meet.

 well it seems some psycho has been running around here making up shit about me and bad mouthing me to anyone she can find.

if you get sent messages about me please have the decency to let me know and i can try and stop this fucked up mental case from causing you all problems.

if she is gonna do all this cos i refused to meet her then think what else she would do if she takes a dislike to you?

2/21/2012 12:25:32 AM: and now we have another psychotic bitch who thinks she can pull as fast one on me. 'normal {redacted}' as if the username wasnt enough suggestion that she thinks we are all freaks on here. she is clearly unhinged and is trying to create hassle for all us serious types. further investigation shows this girl is actually a group of 3 girls online to take the piss and lure unsuspecting men into abuse and harrassment on the few occasions the girls do decide to show themselves, and just not bothering to show up the rest of the time. so be warned out there folk

(emphasis mine)

The Unusual Suspects

So this week, I have mostly been.. meeting men. When I say meeting, by the way, I do not necessarily mean fucking, removing clothing or groping. I am a good girl on a first date, always.
As far as I was concerned, when I placed my ad on the vanilla hookup site (the busiest site in the whole fucking world by the way - I've never known anything like it), it was always going to be a numbers game. I knew that despite the exchange of photographs and extensive email tennis there was no guarantee of chemistry with anyone in the flesh and that the chances of meeting someone(s) new would be increased, the longer the shortlist. This of course is not to say that I wasn't picky; I don't have so much time that I can meet a man I don't feel a basic level of attraction or initial 'click' with, but with the amount of men that did contact me, I only had to see a tiny percentage to give me quite a busy week.  Why I decided to meet 5 men over such a short space of time, I don't really know, but I have a feeling it was mostly to get it out of the way.

It was very interesting. All of the men I met were as they presented themselves by email in terms of looks and personality. They were all clean and well mannered. There was no-one that it was exactly a hardship to sit and drink with exactly. But it's a funny thing, chemistry. You can look at someone and think, 'I can see you're attractive, I can see all the things we have in common, I can see you're clever and funny' but..but the idea of getting naked with them is as about as exciting a prospect as last night's leftovers. And then, even more randomly, you can sit with someone for all of about 5 minutes and start thinking.. 'this is all very well and good, but it would be a lot better naked in your bed.' and its impossible to tell which it's going to be until you get there. I had a bit of both this week, but I do think that when the chemistry was there - it was really there. Only one date though, really seemed to understand (or more vitally, care) what I meant when I wrote in my hook-up site profile that, outside of the bedroom at least, that I expected to be treated like a princess. It made a difference (it makes a difference, men, in the vanilla world!). I know I'm going to be especially nice to that one.

So, I have one left to meet, tomorrow, and I think that will be that for the vanilla site, for the mean time at least. I've changed my profile to reflect that I'm not looking to meet anyone else at the moment - this doesn't stop the men that don't read profiles from sending me pictures of their cocks and asking me if I want to meet them/suck them off/have some fun but luckily I think I've seen so many filthy pictures over the past month or so that I'm starting to go blind. One can only hope, anyway.

The award of 7's

I got nominated for this by one of my favourite bloggers, Ponyboy at Marriage in the Bedroom. His, reader, is a blog that can make you understand what is right and good about monogamous married life. I totally dig him.  I don't normally do these things but I thought since I have a fairly new blog, most things would still be a novelty to most readers.


1.) What is your favorite song? 

That's the hardest and most unfair question of them all, isn't it? I could more easily tell you what my 50 favourite songs are. And anyway, my favourite today are unlikely my favourite tomorrow. I choose two of my favourites - not because they are particularly representive of my tastes, but because I always think they're worth an airing:



 

Having looked at my itunes to see what my most played are, it appears my taste is "pretty miserable"


2.) What is your favourite dessert?
 I don't have a very sweet tooth. Sticky toffee pudding, or bread & butter pudding usually go down fairly well though.

3.) What do you do when you're upset?
Cry. Drink. Not always in that order. It is rare that I will accept misery alone, so if someone has upset me, then I will try and find a way to make them share the pain, or I will call a friend and cry on their shoulder.

4.) Which is your favourite pet?
I'm about 51% a dog person and 49% a cat person. My favourite ever pet was a staffordshire bull terrier we had when we were young. She got stolen when I was about 6. I'm still upset about that, you know, 27 years later. Staffies have a pretty bad press in the UK, because of their "potential for aggression". I've never known a staffordshire bull terrier that wasn't as soft as butter and wonderful with children, but then I don't associate with thugs who train dogs to fight, so what do I know?


5.) White bread or whole meal?
You know, bread isn't all that good for you. If I'm going to have bread though, I'll have the white stuff. Preferably home made slathered with butter. Which is not good for you either.


6.) What's your biggest fear?
Much like Ponyboy, it is something happening to me while my son is young enough to need me every day. Either that, or turning into my mother - which would be roughly equal in terms of detriment to his future happiness. When you have kids, fear takes on another dimension. When I look back on how my life was in my teens and early twenties, I can hardly believe how I lived. With a kid to look after, I don't even like to jaywalk.


 7.) What's your attitude most of the time?
Most of the time, I am a bit like a sleeping lion. Happy enough to lie back and survey the plains, until someone else wants to piss on my territory.

7 Fun Facts About Miss G:
 1) Once upon a time I used to work in the complaints department of a major insurer, dealing with customers we were trying to get rid of. From 9am to 5pm every day, I used to get screamed at and open letters addressed to me, written with almost deranged hatred. I loved every single minute of it and only left the job because I went on maternity leave. I was sworn at, shouted at and threatened. There was quite a high turnover in that department but I stuck it out, mostly because I thought the tantrums that most of our customers had, over very little of real consequence, were hilarious.

2)You don't know anyone who swears as much as me. I don't swear in front of kids, or in front of my tutors at Uni, but everyone else has heard it.

3)When I was on maternity leave, I supported myself for a while by playing poker. I did quite well.  Poker went to shit though, when the US decided to ban it's own players from playing online. The poker world went from shooting fish in a barrel to actually requiring patience and skill overnight. Some of the best friends I have ever made, I have met at the poker table. I rarely play now though, I'm not any good anymore.

4)I don't consider myself to be like, hugely talented at much, but I can cook anything. I have over 150 recipe books and a kitchen stocked with stuff that would put many professional kitchens to shame. One year I cooked a different meal every single night for the whole year. I put on 30lbs but it was really worth it. I'm considering trying this again, for just the month of August.

5) I'm scared of escalators, and cockroaches make me heave. Because we live in an old Victorian house with lots of holes in it, we get mice quite a lot. I cry when we have to kill them, but trapping them and releasing them into the wild doesn't seem to make any difference to the numbers.

6)I always believe that people are entitled to their own political beliefs, but when a woman tells me that she's 'not a feminist', it drives me up the wall. If you are a woman and you have been educated, have had a job, are allowed to keep your own money, vote, make choices for your own children, get birth control without your husband or father's consent, want to be paid for equal work, don't expect your husband to legally rape you inside your marriage (was still perfectly legal within my lifetime in the UK) , and decide for yourself whether you will marry or not, you can thank a feminist for this. If you don't perceive feminism as quite your thing, everything I have listed, stop doing and get back to the washing up.

7) I only ever listen to two radio stations. Radio 4, except between 2 and 4 on a weekday afternoon when I listen to Radio5. For non-UK readers that means I never listen to music radio stations. It's quite hard to access new music because of this. Sometimes I hear a piece of music, love it and have to ask who it is. The person I've asked invariably looks at me like I am an alien. This is quite funny.

7 Bloggers to pass this onto:
Well, this is hard. Some of the bloggers I wanted to pass this onto have already been nominated, some bloggers I would like to nominate might not even be aware of my existence, and as a new blogger, I can't think of that many anyway.  The ones I do follow are pretty lovely though.

You should definitely check out Marriage in The Bedroom
In no particular order then:

1) lil at Submissive Sanctuary
2) Dee at (D)ee for (Desire)
3) Florida Dom
4) Little One at Willing Slut, Apply Within
5) Alice at Discovering Alice
6) B. at Me and What I am... and have become

Dead White Germans

I am in the library, pretending to myself that.. with my final of the exam of the year tomorrow.. that I am revising. But I'm not revising. I am coming to the conclusion that I am not going to do so well in this exam, and I am thinking.
So, if I can just get what I am thinking about down onto this screen, maybe I can stop thinking about it and start thinking about Karl Marx and Max Weber. Dead White Germans.
You know, Karl Marx was a middle class white man, with (female) servants that he used to fuck, and he was writing about  the class struggle and how the (male) workers would revolt and overturn capitalism? I want to write about the hypocrisy and misogyny of that. It isn't the point, I know, but I'd still like to say it.

That is a thought that has been buzzing around my head for about 6 months, but it isn't really whats on my mind today. I have been thinking about how difficult for me it is to separate my heart from my body, and whether I should even try. My mind says, that I don't like monogamy as an ideal. My pussy (oh, if she could really speak) says 'I want to fuck him, and him, and her, and him' but my heart, I don't know.
As an adulteress, pursuing sexual relationships outside of the home, I don't want to have any kind of 'mirror' relationship with the one I have inside of the home. I don't want cosy nights in, or a 'boyfriend' who just happens to want the same things in bed as I do, that is happy to 'let' me screw other people on the nights I'm not seeing him, but on the other hand I don't want anonymous fucks with people I wouldn't like to go out to dinner with, where the only time I ever see them or talk to them is in a hotel bedroom.
I haven't seen W since that text conversation we had and I can't say that things have really improved a great deal in that situation. He's gone now, for a week, to go and watch football in a strange country. He didn't sound much like he wanted to go. Anyway, I sent him a link, last night, to something that I thought might make him laugh and he sent a message back, saying he missed me. And I cried. Because I miss him too. Or maybe because I have PMT, who knows?

* finds tissues, drinks juice*

This isn't what I wanted. I just wanted to have some nice nasty sex (failed there too, so far!) with someone I found attractive and who made me laugh. I'm not going to fall in love with this man. I know that it's alright to miss people, without it meaning anything major.
Anyway, now that these exams are almost out of the way, my social life is looking up again and I'm hopefully going to spend more time with one or two potential new friends this week. Hopefully, it i has been more the social isolation of  being tied to my books that has been putting these thoughts in my head.
Wish me luck, interwebz.

Profile of the week..

A quick one tonight. I'm sure I don't really need to explain how this one ended up on the list. It isn't so much that I have a problem with either statement (although I do a bit, naturally); although the profile clearly suffers the same grammar/punctuation problems that most of them do. It is more that total incongruity of the two statements. And the brilliant gap between them. I guess on the plus side, he does appear to know what he wants.(I must not judge your kink, I must not judge your kink, I must not judge your kink x 100)

-Put this in your profile if you know someone who has survived or died of cancer-

i am looking for sluts and whore's to use as i see fit as hookers to earn master money

The first time I: Picked up a girl

Carrie wasn't the first woman I had been to bed with, but she had been the first woman I had ever been to bed with without the instigation of a male partner to make up a third, and I think she was the first (ok,only) person I ever looked at and thought 'Ok. I am going to try and get you into bed. This night.'
As a sexually submissive person, I don't really do the chasing, or the prodding. There is either acquiescence on my part, or there isn't. But with Carrie, I knew she wasn't going to try anything, I knew it was unlikely I would see her again and so I knew it was down to me.

I met her at a long and boring conference.Three days away in a purpose built facility in the middle of nowhere, with bad catering, close confinement with colleagues that I hated, long days of long meaningless speeches, and the dreaded 'team building' exercises. There was the end of conference dinner though, and that's where I met her.

I checked the table plan for the dinner, and was quite relieved to find there wasn't anyone from my office at my table. I wandered over, the last to sit down, and there she was. Right next to me.  A woman I thought looked so fucking beautiful that the clouds broke, and the misery of the last three days just disappeared in a puff of wonderfully scented smoke. Long, curly red hair, porcelain skin and small,perfect breasts that seemed to hold themselves up under her strapless dress. Happily, I found out later, they appeared as perfect out of the dress as they were within it. And we clicked, we really clicked. It was like we were the only people at the table. The food came and went, the wine was finished and we looked up and found we really were alone at the table. And I felt it then, as I watched her pink lips move as she talked and laughed, I felt... the chemistry. I just wanted to touch her and kiss her all over.
She said something about wanting another drink...

"I have.. we have some alcohol.. in our room. We could get it? The bar might be a bit quieter later?" God. That sounded lame, was that lame?
She smiled widely and nodded and we went up to the room I had been sharing with my colleague to pick up the bottle of vodka that she and I had purchased on the way up. A moment of hesitation as I looked at the two single beds scattered with discarded clothes, towels  and make-up.What if my colleague came back? That's the moment when it struck me, I think, that I absolutely had to have her, because I so was worried we would be disturbed. We looked at eachother.
"I'm not sharing a room with anyone" she offered, with a smile.

We sat on the sofa in her room together, the vodka unopened on the table in front of us. She carried on chatting away to me, about her favourite bars in Manchester, her hairdresser, where she liked to go shopping, so much girl stuff.
I put my hand on her wrist.
"You look really pretty in that dress" I said, cringing inwardly at what felt like the most cheesy chat up line in history, ever; "and you have such a beautiful figure".
And then she smiled, and blushed, and looked away, "Wow, thanks...You do too"

I didn't let go of her wrist, but tightened my grip on it slightly, pulling it in my direction.
She looked back at me, her lips parted slightly in surprise, and I held her eye. I looked at her face, her mouth and I she began to blush again as I think she realised what I was going to do next.
I pulled her wrist again, gently but quite firmly and drew her toward me. Our lips millimetres away from eachother, I checked her reaction. She looked nervous.
And I leaned in again, and I kissed her  as gently as I could, slipping the tip of my tongue between her soft lips. She opened her mouth slightly and I kissed her again, more firmly. And then, she kissed me back, shyly at first and more and more passionate. My hand left her wrist and wrapped itself in her hair, so I could pull her more closely to me. I couldn't get over how soft she was, how good she smelt. I could have kissed her all night, if that was all there was.
But I found my other hand moving toward her breast, and I slipped my hand inside her the front of her dress to find her bra less, her nipple stiff under my fingers. I gently stroked it between my finger and thumb, and heard her moan slightly. We carried on kissing for a while, as I stroked her breast, but I started to need more than to kiss her. I broke off the kiss and smiled at her.
"Come with me"
I stood up and took her hand, and led her over to the side of the bed. I reached around her and felt for the zip that sent her dress falling to the floor, leaving her standing in just a little pair of black knickers. She had a small, firm body and it was so lovely that I couldn't resist but take both of her breasts in my hands and squeeze them gently. She had that nervous look again, so I gently laid her on the bed and curled up next to her.
"Is this ok?" I whispered, tracing a pattern on her skin with my fingers. She nodded. I knelt up and I unzipped my own dress and removed my bra and lay back down next to her. She put her hand on my breast then, kneading it softly and our mouths found eachother again. I moved on top of her, incredibly aroused now, and moved down her body so I could nibble at her breasts. She sighed and moaned, lifting her hips toward me, her thighs parting slightly and I started to stroke the lips of  her pussy through her knickers, to a muffled cry.
I moved further down her body, kissing a trail down her flat stomach until I reached the top of her knickers. I looked back and she lifted her hips again, pushing her pussy up toward my face so I pulled her knickers down over her legs and spread her thighs apart. She had a beautiful pussy, soft and pink , I was dying to taste it. Instead, I knelt between her legs and began to stroke her lips, softly flicking the hood of her clit with my thumb watching her as her arousal grew and she began to hump her pussy against my fingers. I put a finger inside of her and she cried out again. I knelt down again, as I moved my finger in and out, and gently began to lick the length of her pussy, now dripping wet, as she began to grind against my mouth.
I pinned down one of her hips with my free hand and started to flick her clit with my tongue.
It didn't take long, until the moans became cries, until her thighs clamped around my head and my hands became redundant, and not long after that, she tensed against me and, with a final shudder and a squeak, came against me. I kissed her puss very gently, and moved up the bed to look at her, her red hair now sticking to her flushed face, smiling at me.

She lifted her head to kiss me hungrily, a different person ,she seemed to have lost her inhibitions and I lay down next to her again. I really needed her to touch me now, so I pulled off my knickers and took her hand. She smiled at me, and propped herself up on her elbow, looking at me closely as she reached down between my thighs and slid her middle finger into my wet pussy. I don't really think she had done this to another woman before, and the thought of that made me feel even more turned-on. I gasped as her fingers found my clit, and she began to tap lightly, rapidly on it, watching my face as I panted, open mouthed at the incredibly intense stimulation. Her fingers began to move more quickly and she bent her head to kiss and bite my neck. I closed my eyes until there was nothing on earth other than that hot mouth on my neck and the feeling in my pussy. I could feel my hips beginning to buck as the pressure built up and I reached out blindly for her as I came, harder than I had in a long while, against her hand.

That night, I fell asleep with Carrie, the sensation of being wrapped around a soft, smooth, warm body completely irresistible to me, but when I woke up in the early hours I gathered my things and went back to my room. I thought about trying to see her again. I could find her through the company, I supposed, but I didn't think it would be a good idea.
I still think about her sometimes, if for no reason other than to get myself off but when I look back at the few women I have been with, it wasn't the best sex ever. It wasn't the most exciting sexual narrative. But was a good confidence booster and a memorable enough night.
I miss the girl sex, sometimes.

I'm never going to get laid, ever again am I?

So here's a text conversation I had with W. W is someone I have real spark with, and I like a lot. We haven't had sex yet, well, for various reasons, none of these his fault at all. Due to a combination of a busy bank holiday weekend, my revision and his work, it's been a little while since I've seen him. We've tried to maintain things by text, but over the past few days we've not really connected. My texts, I'm sure coming over as fairly short (exam stress) and his a little lascivious  - normally great, but not always helpful when you're trying to remember the key dates for the rise and fall of the Prussian empire, or the names of the ten (yes! TEN!) major political parties of the Brazilian party system (I can still remember only 7 by the way. I'll find a way to gloss over that). So anyway, he hasn't really seemed to pick up on my stress, despite my reminders that I've been trying to revise for this exam on Wednesday morning. That's alright. He's not my boyfriend. And to be frank, I just want to get fucked and preferably spanked  hard enough to get rid of this stress. That's what we were going to do. On Wednesday night.
So this is how it went: (one day I'll work out how to do a screenie of my mobile)

W: Tomorrow: meal, or fucking?
Me: I would love to say both, but I think I need fucking more. You?
W: Haha, I'm good either way, but it's a fair call to say we won't have time for both I'm afraid. Fucking it is.
Me: Good either way, huh?
W: Hey, I like a good meal.

Now, I know I sound like I'm being hard on him, but I could have done with some positive affirmation of my fuckability there. Never mind...


Me: Well, you might be in luck, after my exam, I might just want to get drunk and eat curry goat (we were talking about going for Caribbean food). That ok?
W: Is your exam tomorrow?
Me: No, it's bloody Christmas day Yes.

I know. I'm an uptight old shrew with a need for ego-stroking. My ego isn't the bit of me that needs stroking most though. I guess if I was ever having any worries about his reaction to my wanting to play with others, they are dissolving. I'll let you know what happens.

Profile of the week..

I can't really believe that Monday has come round again quite so fast. It has not been a great week for me, but that's another post. Normally I reserve this space for profiles that I don't like, because criticism is so much funner, right? But after drowning in bad profiles this week, I did have a little smile when I spotted this one. I mean, I won't be in touch, but it's far more positive than last week's effort, don't you think? Here it is:

:) ... It's a man's obligation to stick his boneration in a women's separation; this sort of penetration will increase the population of the younger generation.

 I would never let a woman kick my ass. If she tried something, I'd be like, HEY! You get your bitch ass back in the kitchen and make me some pie! :D

REMEMBER: If your not having fun then your doing something wrong!!!

Truth or Dare Anyone!! Fell Free to message me.

Girls, he even uses the semi colon. Want me to hook you up?

 

How to Fail at Hookup Sites for Men: A primer

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I say Potato...

So, I slacked off again today and went on a short notice lunch with a new man. Lets call him.. Mr F. Unusually for me, Mr F is a vanilla, which could in itself be problematic. He seems like he could easily dominate me, and be quite forceful, but he 'draws the line at causing pain' apparently. I don't think that matters too much for occasional play, really, but there are sometimes when I need something a bit edgier to get me over the .. edge and I don't need people who are scared of hurting when they're with me. This is all completely premature, as I don't know if he wants to do anything yet. I think he does. He looked at me like he did (you know what I mean), but I'm not sure the spark, sparked.

It all started pretty well. He had been fairly modest about himself in his profile on the site I had met him, and he was attractive and very imposing at well over 6 ft tall. I immediately felt good in his company. I liked him. The chat flowed, pleasantly at first, with some fairly lighthearted banter and a lot of smiling. Reader, it was going well. But the dynamic really changed when the subject drifted onto politics, and now I look back it seems like the conversation overtook the majority of our date. Essentially, Mr F seems to like an argument and, noting my fairly obvious aversion to Conservative politics he went on to defend the political decisions of the scum that govern this country and become an apologist for the utter rape of the working classes by the Thatcher government. All Labour's fault, apparently. Now, just in case you think he's stupid (thats a possible, for people who genuinely believe these things), it turns out that he doesnt think all of these things. He just wanted an argument. And he got one from me, whether he listened or not. But I think the final straw was 'But David is such a laugh at a dinner party, he's a nice chap.' Now, whether he understands his social relationship with one of the most politically offensive and yet ineffectual Prime Ministers that this country has seen in many years, is of no consequence to me or not; I care little that a man whose policies are driving thousands of working families underneath the poverty line and making the disabled and the poor pay for the mistakes of his banking buddies is a 'laugh' at a dinner party. Its nice to imagine him quaffing down the champers and caviar and having a chuckle after a 'hard day' making policies that hurt society, isn't it?

But politics aside (And really, it doesn't matter all that much that he chooses to socialise with people like that), who ever thought that provoking someone's deeply held moral convictions, for fun, on a first date was sexy? Is it? Frankly, some of the stuff he said made me a bit queasy, with his reactionary Daily Mail opinions on the unemployed and the sick. Not sexy, not fun, not light. Not verbal foreplay.
And that's  a shame, because really, I like him. Its a shame that someone articulate and funny and bright doesn't want to spend their talents seducing a woman, rather than winding her up. Oh well.