Pole dancing, goddesses and dungeons, oh my!

So, this is probably the first time I've had something actually interesting and sexy to write about in this blog. Here goes!

On Saturday, I went to visit one of my college friends, Robin. She's an...interesting person. Sweet, quirky, fun, and she just finally broke off contact with her shitty abusive ex-boyfriend. Anyway, the first item on the agenda was a pole dancing class she has been pushing me to try.

The pole class was actually a lot of fun. I don't really dance much, I'm not super coordinated. If you need evidence of how uncoordinated I am, please see Exhibit A: my completely fucked knees, the day after pole class. http://tinypic.com/r/307ydxs/7

Later on, we were talking in her room. She was texting her friend and I saw one of the texts that just said "Yes, Goddess." Naturally, this sparked some questions. Apparently, shortly after her breakup, this guy started talking to her about how he's "training" slave girls. Seven of them, not including his fiance. He offered to train Robin to become a domme.

And...you know, the whole "training" thing is kind of a subject for another post. Because let me tell you, I'm trying to maintain the nonjudgmental, "Your Kink Is Not My Kink, But Your Kink Is Okay" stance. But...something about the way they play tweaks me. She picked a specific Egyptian Goddess to identify herself with, and she gave him an Egyptian name that roughly translates to "bottom-feeder." There's a bunch of elemental play: he has to text her for permission whenever he enters a body of water, if he spills water, he has to text her and apologize for harming her. I don't know. It's weird and reeks of artifice to me.

But it seems to be making her happy, and it got me thinking about my friend Matthew. There is a TON of weird drama backstory there, ranging from college threesomes to FWB that didn't work out, to our current deluxe-platonic friendship. Robin was egging me on to text him and tease him a little bit, since he's a tremendous submissive. So I did, and...somehow, a combination of jealousy of Robin and horniness led to him agreeing to become MY submissive.

I can't say "slave." The word "slave" has no sexy connotations for me at all, and anyway, I don't want a slave. Submissive seems more clunky, and I wish there was a shorter word for it, but meh.

So, I never thought that Matthew would be a good full-time submissive. For me, or for anyone. In the past, he's always sort of been obsessed with his own kink. Tickling is his big thing, so any time we were sexting or roleplaying, it always had to center around tickling. But it seems he's changed his mind? All of a sudden, he's talking about things I like. Crossdressing. Pegging. Non-consensual play. He's going to start asking me for permission to orgasm, among other things.

Yesterday, this seemed like a really good, hot idea. Today, I am not so sure? It seems like possible drama, and it also seems frustrating to have everything be based around texting. We don't have anywhere that we can meet up and I can force him into a dress and fuck his ass, so...there may not be any point. But I guess I can do it while I'm enjoying it, and if I get bored, I can just start forbidding him orgasms until he finds a way to make it fun for me again.

We shall see!

Date #2

So I went out with The Virgin again and...I dunno. Everything aside from the sexy time was pretty bleh, and sexy time in the back of a car can only go so far.

The sexy times first!

We made out during the movie, and then went to the car and made out there. I brought up kink, in a very vague kind of way. (How would you feel about being held down? Or like, bitten?) He was neutral, at best. Not thrilling, but not a huge negative reaction either. I nipped him a couple times, with no real positive response.

The thing I really don't like is that he's so damn quiet. He doesn't give me any kind of feedback, or tell me that he thinks I'm hot, or anything. He won't shut up when we're at the restaurant or whatever, but as soon as my tits come out, he's Silent Bob.

Anyway, I was more determined to get him off this time. I jerked him off for a long time, then went down on him for awhile, then suggested that he jerk himself off. It was at that point that I realized I had been doing it COMPLETELY WRONG (well, not wrong, but different enough from the way that he does it to be ineffective.) which annoyed the shit out of me. Guys, if I'm gripping your cock, and you'd prefer for me to stroke it with my fingertips, TELL ME THAT. Especially after 20 minutes of jerking with no fucking response.

What finally did it was when I gave up on trying to get him off, and I told him to get me off. I put his fingers on my clit and made him rub it the way I wanted, and suddenly his cock got with the program. I jerked him off for a few more seconds and he came, and I was much more cheerful after my own orgasm.

Anyway. The stuff I don't like, in a bulleted list.

- He showed up 15 minutes late. This time, I was driving to his town, so I drove for 45 minutes and he still showed up late.

- He over-ordered (a LOT of drinks) and then when the bill came he made faces at it and said that I owed "more than half." I wound up throwing in $35 on a $50 check. I'm not opposed to going dutch, but if you can't afford the fucking restaurant, maybe don't order 3 beers and pressure your date to order expensive drinks.

- He was totally unwilling to compromise on the movie. He even sort-of apologized for it, in a "well I definitely don't want to see anything you like, but I'm sorry I'm dragging you to this."

One good thing, though. After the orgasms, he brought up the "where do you see this going" talk. I was kind of mean and blunt with him and told him I don't see it going anywhere. But I'm cool with still hanging out and making out, as long as it can be a casual thing. He seemed down with that.

If he wasn't so damn hot, I wouldn't be seeing him again. I still might not, but we'll see.

Date Report: The Virgin

So, last Friday I went on a first date. The guy was from Match.com and we hit it off REALLY well. I wrote a half-post about the date, and never got around to finishing it because of work drama.

Sidenote: Work drama has been HUGE this week. It's gotten so bad that I've been throwing up, not sleeping, and looking at job postings like they're porn. I'm sure that, when I find a new job, I'll update more.

I'm about to go on Date #2 though, so I wanted to post at least somewhat of a recap of Date #1. So here is the half-finished post...which wound up being less sexy and more boring-recap than I wanted it to be. But ANYWAY.

The Virgin and I have been e-mailing through match for a couple weeks now, and he immediately got my attention by virtue of being a pretty decent writer. He made a habit of sending me multi-paragraph emails about a wide variety of things, with good spelling and grammar to boot. So he averted my two biggest pet peeves – messages that aren’t spellchecked and messages that are too short. Good start.

He lives in a city about an hour away from me. When the topic of meeting up came up, I suggested finding someplace in the middle, and he immediately said that he wouldn’t mind driving out to my city. Points! The only real plan we made was to get coffee and see where the night went.

He hit terrible traffic on the way to my city, but he kept in pretty consistent contact with me about where he was. When he finally got to the coffee shop, he texted me and I went to meet him. I first saw him through the coffee shop window, and my thought was “YES. He’s cuter than his pictures! If that’s him. Oh, please be him!” And, of course, it was.

The Virgin is a completely sweet guy, but as you may have guessed from the name I’ve chosen, he’s not super experienced. In sex or in relationships. He’s only had one serious girlfriend, actually. (Yes, we talked about exes, yes I know that’s the DEATH KNELL for new relationships, but I almost always do it.)

I’m getting ahead of myself. We had coffee and took a walk and talked, mostly about superhero movies and comic books that we like. We have similar enough interests to give us lots of conversation options, but we don’t watch/read the same things, which is fun. We went to a fairly nice restaurant for dinner. Then we discussed our options for continuing the night. Bowling was suggested, but we decided to go to a hotel lounge/bar that has karaoke on Friday night.

Let me tell you something about me. I fucking love karaoke. I mean, I love it. I would sing every song if I could do it without being rude to other people, and I sing karaoke like I’m trying out for American Idol. I don’t even like to drink when I’m going to karaoke, because I want to be at the top of my game when I’m singing. And The Virgin put my karaoke skills to shame.

Not in a bad way! In a “oh my god he sings like he’s on Glee” way. Right down to dance moves, coming off the stage to make eye contact with the audience, and pointing at me during the romantic parts of the song. Can I get a d’AWWWW?

Now you know all about the G-rated parts of the date. So here’s the fun part, where I talk about the raunchy parts of the date.

After about two songs and two drinks, he kissed me. It…was not actually a great kiss, but I was flattered, and excited about being kissed. He was a little overaggressive and seemed to be trying to smash his face up against mine as hard as he possibly could. I kissed him back like that for awhile and then went “Wow this isn’t working for me” and started trying to gently guide him away from that. “Gently” for me means “grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling his head back.” That didn’t work, so I wound up telling him to ease up a bit.

I don’t mean to make it sound like this was some awful experience. I was seriously enjoying kissing him, he was hot and he smelled good. But I’m spoiled on kissing ladies, and in my experience ladykisses are softer and sweeter. Which I like a LOT.

He suggested we go somewhere more private, which I was ALL FOR. Since neither of us wanted to shell out for a hotel room, we wound up in the backseat of my car. I even commented “This is so stereotypically high school that I never even did it in high school.” There was more kissing.

The dress I was wearing was a halter top, and I was wearing it with no bra. This led to a WHOLE lot of interest in my tits, and specifically in getting them out of the halter top. I was fine with that, except for the whole “being in a parking lot with other people around” thing, so we were kind of careful and furtive.

During the making out, I wound up straddling his lap while he felt me up. It was completely hot and awesome, and I came from that. (Orgasming is my super power, as I may have mentioned.) I wanted him to get off too, so I wound up grinding on him and trying to jerk him off. When that didn’t work, I asked if I could go down on him, and did that for about 10-15 minutes. That also didn’t get him off, but it was fun, then he commented that it was his first time ever getting head. I mean...the dude is my age and he has never had his cock sucked. Not even once.

Hooooly shit. Virgin corruption is a HUGE thing for me. It’s fucking hot, and I’m really trying not to turn into this creepy pervert with him. But oh my god. I want to DO THINGS to him. I want to put things in his ass and handcuff him to things. I'm a little concerned, because I haven't brought these things up to him at all. I'm not sure how to introduce kink to this relationship, beyond the little hair-pulling and nipping that I did while we were making out. It would be much better if we had like, an actual bedroom to fuck around in, but we both live at home, soooo...yeah.

I'm already in Seriously Overthinking It mode, and I'm concerned that Date #2 may be our last date. But...we'll see? I'm hoping things go well, at least. I'm not sure I want to do another multi-hour face-sucking session in the backseat, but I'm not entirely opposed to that. I'm wearing another pretty dress, just in case it comes up.

Real people and Fakes.

I’ve noticed this particular turn of phrase a lot on dating websites.

“Looking for a real person.”

Sometimes it’s a real girl, real woman, real man. Other times it’s stated in the negative: No fakes!

Until recently, I’d only ever really seen the “real/fake” dichotomy played out online. It became something that was less of a statement and more of a red flag. If I saw someone comment that they were only interested in meeting “real” people, I knew instinctively that we wouldn’t get along. I’m not sure why that is, although I plan to expand on it some here.

Recently though, a coworker/acquaintance of mine went on a tirade about a guy that she knew. For clarity, I have never met the guy in question.

(Unfortunately, it’s impossible for me to separate the homophobia from any legitimate complaint, so I’ll add in a trigger warning for homophobia here.)

Anyway, this gentleman had been closeted for years, and while closeted he acted like a (her words, not mine) “normal guy.” When he came out, he acted in a way more stereotypical of gay men – his voice changed, his tastes changed, and he started to act more flamboyant. She kept describing his behavior with increasing agitation and, at several points, commented that it was “sickening.” When I finally asked her to stop describing gay people as “sickening,” because I found it personally offensive, she reassured me that she didn’t have a problem with gay people, or with flamboyant behavior.

When I asked her what the problem was, she commented that she didn’t like how “fake” he had become. I wondered if she was misunderstanding. Maybe the more masculine version of him was the fake, and the new, lisping version was the more authentic. She reassured me that if I knew him, I would know that the new version is the fake. Before he came out, back when he was hiding an enormous part of his identity, he was more authentic and “real.” Real was about comfort for her. It was about people acting in a way that she understood and made sense. He changed his behavior, he started acting in a way that she was unfamiliar with, and the only response she could think of was to accuse him of being "fake."

I realized at that moment what bothers me about the real/fake dichotomy. It’s the idea that one person knows what’s going on in the mind of another. It’s saying “You are behaving in a way that is inauthentic. You are lying about your feelings, your experiences, yourself. You are less of an expert in your own mind than I am.” There may or may not be information to back up this assertion, but I think it’s a pretty huge statement to make.

Everyone experiences their own subjective reality. Everyone responds to what they perceive. It is my personal belief that most people try to present a fairly realistic (if slightly improved) version of themselves. It may be that their 'real' self is not something that I find pleasant or enjoyable, or even believable. I have met people who were so outside of my experience that I felt they must be faking, or enacting some kind of bizarre performance art. But they weren't.

In online dating profiles, “real” women are often characterized as women who do not care about makeup or relationship drama. (Drama is a whole separate post that I intend to write about. Maybe this will become a series: “Things people put in their dating profiles that Vices does not understand!”) But…some women are interested in those things. Authentically interested. I, personally, am not over-interested in makeup. My younger sister is. Neither of us is any less or more real than the other.

It all really comes down to assuming that someone else’s thoughts are the same as yours. That’s actually the only way that it makes sense to call someone a fake – if you assume that you, yourself, are the only “real” person out there. Maybe that's why I had such a hard time putting together what it meant. Not to brag or anything, but I tend to assume that other people are different from me in a wide variety of ways. They are interested in things I may not be interested in, and they like to talk about things that may not interest them.

Real people watch Jersey Shore. Real people read philosophy books in their spare time. Real people make their own garb for renaissance faires. Real people get makeup tattooed on their face. Real people wear hats. Real people build birdhouses. Real people buy antique lamps at yard sales, clean them up, and sell them on Etsy. Real people buy muscle cars. Real people do drugs. Real people paint murals.

Fake people do not exist. It is an invalid insult and people should stop using it.

Sidenote: For a really long time, when I saw "real people only" in a dating ad, I assumed it was some misguided person trying to avoid spam bots. To this day, I still hope that is the case. I would prefer to think someone was technologically illiterate than that they would dismiss the experiences of another human being.

Ergh.

I talked to my dad about politics today, which reminded me why I hate talking about politics. As someone who is pro-gay-rights and anti-abortion, sometimes it seems like there is no safe ground to stand on. I have thought about doing a politics post here a couple times, but I don't think it's going to happen any time soon. Mostly, I'm in my early twenties and still trying to figure out which party makes me angry less often. It probably won't be the party that my dad is a member of, because every time he talks to me, it makes my head hurt.

Speaking of things that make my head hurt!

http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/sex/7-things-your-husband-wants-to-tell-you-2508503/

In case you don't want to click the link to something that will probably make your head hurt, allow me to summarize: Husbands are a homogeneous group who all want to tell their wives exactly the same things. Wives! You should know that you are nagging, obnoxious harpy shrews who, strangely, fit sitcom stereotypes even more neatly than sitcoms do. Stop your talking and your nagging and your shopping and learn to accept that this is just the way that Men are!

Seriously, are we ever going to stop doing this? There is some valid research in gender studies. I read Deborah Tannen when I was quite a bit younger, and I remember feeling like she was able to say "Hey, I have noticed that often men communicate in X way and women communicate in Y way." Admittedly, she didn't set out to do that. She originally studied cross-cultural communication, and her book had a teeny little chapter on how this MAY affect genders, and she admitted freely in her "MEN/WOMEN: WHAT IS THEIR DEAL" book that she was mostly basing her information on questions that she received.

There is an interesting thing about basing your information on questions that are volunteered. People, in general, are more likely to volunteer their question if it matches up with societal expectations for how things will happen. It's easier for a man to say "I wish my wife would put out more!" because HAHA WOMEN, RIGHT? Conversely, it's probably harder for a man to admit "I wish sometimes my wife and I could sit and talk about our feelings." Even if that's true. Because that makes him sound like a woman and, well, who wants to sound like that? It's the same for women who have high libidos, or a low tolerance for shopping.

My parents are actually the best example of this that I have. My dad loves shopping, my mom is ambivalent about it. My dad processes things verbally - when there is a problem, he often needs to discuss it over and over, rehashing every detail, until he reaches some kind of psychological peace with himself. He vents. He nags. He prattles. And he regularly asks me, my mom, or my sisters how a shirt looks on him and goes into a huff if we aren't complimentary.

I'm really tired of seeing these stereotypes. They are so tired it seems ridiculous to even bring them out.

Pussy Time

Caution: The following may contain spoilers for the play Me And My Dick. This is an excellent musical, and I would highly recommend watching it, if you enjoy musicals or shows about sex. You may wish to watch the show here before reading: http://teamstarkid.com/shows.html

"But when a pussy wants a dick, all she has to do is say 'dick please.' AND THE SUN IS BLOCKED OUT BY DICKS." - Big T.

This is one particular stereotype about women and sex that has always frustrated me. The idea that I am sitting here, consciously choosing not to have sex. Because if I wanted to have sex, WELL, I'm a woman. All I have to do is go outside, bang some pans together and shout "Pussy's on!" and a squadron of strapping men will line up outside my door.

This has not been my experience. I have had boyfriends who I wanted to have sex with, but we didn't due to him not feeling ready. I have had long periods of my life where I wanted to fuck, but I had no interested parties who wanted to fuck me! I fairly consistently make myself available to men. I go out and talk to new men, I approach men in bookstores, at coffee shops, at plays. No dice.

Part of this, of course, is because I do have certain standards. I want to get laid by someone I'm attracted to, physically and mentally. I do believe that if I went out looking for a dick, ANY dick, I could find one to put inside me before the end of the night. I also believe that if a man went out looking for a woman, ANY woman, he would find someone similarly inclined.

The real reason we can't find sex partners is not because women are wickedly withholding from men. It's because everyone has things they want, and sometimes it's hard to find someone you're compatible with.

Sidenote: MAMD is a great play, but it has some problematic messages about 'sluttiness.' (Sleeping around will make your vagina ugly and stretched out!) However, it gets props from me for showing a female character who desires sex and portraying her desires as authentic and worthy of pursuing.

Sexy pictures!

Alright, I've been psyching myself up to post these for awhile. I think it's interesting to look at the pictures - knowing that they're OF ME - and think how sexy they are. It doesn't really gel with my intense body insecurity. Anyway, here are some bra and panties pics, and one full-on tit pic. Because it's awesome, and I'm awesome.

Posing was the hardest part. I wound up doing much the same pose for all of the on-my-back pictures.

I really like my ass. I've gotten a number of positive comments about it, and I think my legs are looking good too.

And here's the promised tit pic! I haven't gotten myself up to the full monty yet, but photographing my bare chest is kind of a huge thing for me, and I'm really proud of it!