8:30 lets meet up and uck asap - m4w - 28 (Port-Bvt Area)
Reply to: blah blah
Date: 2008-12-31, 8:27PM PST
Well Im pretty chill laid back love to puff 420, Im into all type of girls so race and age dont matter as long as u look good.
Late
12.31.2008
My Ongoing Amusement, Craigslist
With my girl on the bed enjoying a book and my endless narrative, I find this headine and ad...nothing more to be added. uckin' a, that's funny.
Reply to: blah blah
Date: 2008-12-31, 8:27PM PST
Well Im pretty chill laid back love to puff 420, Im into all type of girls so race and age dont matter as long as u look good.
Late
Reply to: blah blah
Date: 2008-12-31, 8:27PM PST
Well Im pretty chill laid back love to puff 420, Im into all type of girls so race and age dont matter as long as u look good.
Late
New Year Story for a boy
This evening, I am hosting a small gathering of intimates. Since my girl is visiting, we are at a hotel, as I've just moved and haven't settled in. In the suite, friends, a mix of women and men are talking, noshing, generally being the smart, entertaining nutballs they are. I put this group together with an eye toward the best comedy among my crowd, knowing that I would sit back and laugh all night. I have my computer up, and as they are used to me taking notes, it is of little consequence and not intrusive or rude.
I am imagining you here, to help us bring in the New Year. I know that the men friends will leave early, off to pursue more vigorous celebrations, leaving Mari, Ami, Amelia, Kat, and me. All these friends would know the particulars of my life and so you would be serving through the evening. As the men left, I would tell you to undress and put on your apron. Each of my women friends is enlightened and, while neither Mari, Ami, nor Kat is an FLR proponent, they are certainly appreciative of the male form, and they love me and always learn from the coloring outside the lines of my life. When not serving, you would be kneeling by my side. I would notice that Kat had a sore ankle, and direct you to her to rub her foot. She would be very loquacious at your strong hands and appreciative of your efforts. I would smile to see her pleased.
Mari is my dearest friend of lo, these many years. Ami is a few years our senior, and we've known one another since college. The two of them are straight and vanilla, also very strong and independent, brilliant and beautiful. Ami is Irish and one of the most hysterically funny women I know. A linguist, she regularly spices up a conversation with a brogue that switches into a country twang, and then I'm back at my cowgirl roots and we are off on another tangent. Through this, I would ask you to lay your hands on Mari's neck. I could see her hunching her shoulders and know that she has yet again worked at her computer until she can't un-hunch. your fingers would work out her knots.
For company, the CB6 would be off, and you would wear pink panties, which would highlight your erection at every contact. I would touch you discretely when you passed me, just keeping you excited. amelia would be some vexed, not quite knowing where to be or how, as the recent change in our relationship still has her struggling a bit for her new space. Not slave, not submissive, although still wanting both, nevertheless, she would look admiring at you and see the smile on my face and she would be pleased.
Near the midnight hour, I tell you to please go to the table and take off your apron and lie on your back. Perplexed, you comply, of course, not before noting the wicked grins on Kat, Amelia's and my face, and the blush on Mari's and Ami's.
Naked on the table (laid with a black cloth for the evening) you wait. amelia comes in and brings fruit and begins laying it on your belly. Kat brings chocolate sauce (these are women, there must therefore be chocolate, although I do not share that seemingly universal love), and decorates the fruit. Ami brings berries, adds them to your belly. The fruit is cool, the sensation bring gooseflesh. Each of us sits at the table and I pass champagne to each of them. I raise my glass and say, "To my beloved women, may 2009 bring you shalom -- the peace that derives from ha-o-lam, from wholeness. May you enjoy high adventure, low brow humor, and absolute health. And, right now, please enjoy your dessert off my fine platter. Je vous salute!"
They toast, drink, and begin sopping up the chocolate along your skin, teasing you mercilessly. amelia is boldest and dribbles chocolate on your manhood, then leans in to taste it with her tongue. (she has served as the dessert tray many a time and is delighted to be one of the diners rather than the tray). Kat is soon licking your nipples as Mari and Ami contain themselves to the fruit. I am standing at your head, watching my friends enjoy their dessert, mind steps ahead to the dessert that awaits me.
The women are full of champagne, fruit, and chocolate. you are sticky and stiff. The ladies take their leave, heading home to beat the craziness on the roads. I tell you to shower and come back to me. This is the 10th day since last I allowed your release. In that span of time, you have been teased by my friends, have serviced me with your tongue on several occasions, and I have played with your backside to near release every day. you are battling your brain, thinking surely tonight.....but, you have learned that even though I plan and you can sometimes guess outcomes, my quick devious Gemini brain loves to surprise. So, you try hard to not imagine when next....
Out of the shower, you come to me, and before you kneel, I slip the PA out of the tip of your manhood and tell you to get on the bed, on all fours. I bring the blindfold because I want you to focus on sensation, not visual stimuli. you hear me stepping into my strapon and you try to relax. I am glad to be tall, but wish I had a couple more inches of reach. you are required to wear your hair long enough for me to be able to grab it when I wish. I am not natively Sadistic, evil from time to time, yes, but pain is a thing about which I am circumspect. Forceful firmness, absolutely. I want to control you, simply, and for you to feel overpowered. I begin narrating as you feel me at your backside, lube, fingers, slowly opening you. "pet, feel My strength....try to get away....struggle..." you do not. I smack your butt and say, "STRUGGLE!" you try to get away, flattening, and immediately, I'm on top of you, have you in a camel clutch. I only hold you for a moment, not wanting truly to subdue you, simply to make certain you know that I could..."good boy, love, now come back up." you are breathing hard and now, I notice, fully turgid. I lightly rub your manhood and go back to my former place at your backside. "open for me, boy, take me inside you...." you feel My cock opening you and soon, you feel me against your prostate, teasing, driving you crazy. I can FEEL you warring with yourself, wanting to not achieve release this way, wanting a deeper connection. I bring you close several times and back off, you moan softly, sweating lightly. Finally, I slowly withdraw. "turn over, pet," I whisper as I take off the blindfold.
you comply and I lay the length of you, softly playing my hand across your chest. I love to play you, and spend a lot of time doing so. Tonight, though, away from the busy-ness of our lives, I want to mark the passing of the year, our first together. "may I serve you, Ma'am?" "no, john, just be still. Kiss me, pet." The kiss is the beginning of a conversation, the first step in the lovers' dance. I am taken with how well you've learned to listen, and that shows in your kiss. The call and response of my tongue to yours, I lick your lips, nibble them, pulling gently, then begin thrusting my tongue rhythmically in your mouth, slow, then steadily faster, deeper. As I do so, your pelvis begins to rock softly, and I feel myself engorge. I am hungry for you, pet. without breaking the kiss, I swing on top of you and take you inside of me, pushing down onto you. you reach up and we embrace hard, you half sitting up as I ride you. I am very careful to not ride too fast, although that takes a Herculean effort. I separate from you and put my hands on your shoulders and my breast in your mouth, cooing to you, "That's good, boy, harder, yes, good..."
I then lean and take your nipples, each in turn, in my mouth, teasing and sucking them. you groan and push against me, and I stop, again, trying to prolong the coupling. I look down at you, flushed, sweating, and find myself with tears in my eyes that wash down over you. I am still trying to wrap my brain around the reality of you. you catch the emotion and smile softly. I say, "john, thank you for your service, dear pet. Happy New Year." leaning in again to kiss you, this time, I tighten on you and ride hard, fast, and begin to shake as your manhood plunges again and again inside me, triggering my own release. you feel the spasms gripping you and I say, "Yes! Give Me your gift, boy, NOW!"
Kissing you, you scream into my mouth, shock wave after shock wave rocking your body.
Until finally, spent, heart racing, you relax.
I straighten out lying still mostly on top, feeling you slip out, sighing.
I wrap my hand around your manhood and we fall asleep, sated, in ways that neither of us could have imagined.
I am imagining you here, to help us bring in the New Year. I know that the men friends will leave early, off to pursue more vigorous celebrations, leaving Mari, Ami, Amelia, Kat, and me. All these friends would know the particulars of my life and so you would be serving through the evening. As the men left, I would tell you to undress and put on your apron. Each of my women friends is enlightened and, while neither Mari, Ami, nor Kat is an FLR proponent, they are certainly appreciative of the male form, and they love me and always learn from the coloring outside the lines of my life. When not serving, you would be kneeling by my side. I would notice that Kat had a sore ankle, and direct you to her to rub her foot. She would be very loquacious at your strong hands and appreciative of your efforts. I would smile to see her pleased.
Mari is my dearest friend of lo, these many years. Ami is a few years our senior, and we've known one another since college. The two of them are straight and vanilla, also very strong and independent, brilliant and beautiful. Ami is Irish and one of the most hysterically funny women I know. A linguist, she regularly spices up a conversation with a brogue that switches into a country twang, and then I'm back at my cowgirl roots and we are off on another tangent. Through this, I would ask you to lay your hands on Mari's neck. I could see her hunching her shoulders and know that she has yet again worked at her computer until she can't un-hunch. your fingers would work out her knots.
For company, the CB6 would be off, and you would wear pink panties, which would highlight your erection at every contact. I would touch you discretely when you passed me, just keeping you excited. amelia would be some vexed, not quite knowing where to be or how, as the recent change in our relationship still has her struggling a bit for her new space. Not slave, not submissive, although still wanting both, nevertheless, she would look admiring at you and see the smile on my face and she would be pleased.
Near the midnight hour, I tell you to please go to the table and take off your apron and lie on your back. Perplexed, you comply, of course, not before noting the wicked grins on Kat, Amelia's and my face, and the blush on Mari's and Ami's.
Naked on the table (laid with a black cloth for the evening) you wait. amelia comes in and brings fruit and begins laying it on your belly. Kat brings chocolate sauce (these are women, there must therefore be chocolate, although I do not share that seemingly universal love), and decorates the fruit. Ami brings berries, adds them to your belly. The fruit is cool, the sensation bring gooseflesh. Each of us sits at the table and I pass champagne to each of them. I raise my glass and say, "To my beloved women, may 2009 bring you shalom -- the peace that derives from ha-o-lam, from wholeness. May you enjoy high adventure, low brow humor, and absolute health. And, right now, please enjoy your dessert off my fine platter. Je vous salute!"
They toast, drink, and begin sopping up the chocolate along your skin, teasing you mercilessly. amelia is boldest and dribbles chocolate on your manhood, then leans in to taste it with her tongue. (she has served as the dessert tray many a time and is delighted to be one of the diners rather than the tray). Kat is soon licking your nipples as Mari and Ami contain themselves to the fruit. I am standing at your head, watching my friends enjoy their dessert, mind steps ahead to the dessert that awaits me.
The women are full of champagne, fruit, and chocolate. you are sticky and stiff. The ladies take their leave, heading home to beat the craziness on the roads. I tell you to shower and come back to me. This is the 10th day since last I allowed your release. In that span of time, you have been teased by my friends, have serviced me with your tongue on several occasions, and I have played with your backside to near release every day. you are battling your brain, thinking surely tonight.....but, you have learned that even though I plan and you can sometimes guess outcomes, my quick devious Gemini brain loves to surprise. So, you try hard to not imagine when next....
Out of the shower, you come to me, and before you kneel, I slip the PA out of the tip of your manhood and tell you to get on the bed, on all fours. I bring the blindfold because I want you to focus on sensation, not visual stimuli. you hear me stepping into my strapon and you try to relax. I am glad to be tall, but wish I had a couple more inches of reach. you are required to wear your hair long enough for me to be able to grab it when I wish. I am not natively Sadistic, evil from time to time, yes, but pain is a thing about which I am circumspect. Forceful firmness, absolutely. I want to control you, simply, and for you to feel overpowered. I begin narrating as you feel me at your backside, lube, fingers, slowly opening you. "pet, feel My strength....try to get away....struggle..." you do not. I smack your butt and say, "STRUGGLE!" you try to get away, flattening, and immediately, I'm on top of you, have you in a camel clutch. I only hold you for a moment, not wanting truly to subdue you, simply to make certain you know that I could..."good boy, love, now come back up." you are breathing hard and now, I notice, fully turgid. I lightly rub your manhood and go back to my former place at your backside. "open for me, boy, take me inside you...." you feel My cock opening you and soon, you feel me against your prostate, teasing, driving you crazy. I can FEEL you warring with yourself, wanting to not achieve release this way, wanting a deeper connection. I bring you close several times and back off, you moan softly, sweating lightly. Finally, I slowly withdraw. "turn over, pet," I whisper as I take off the blindfold.
you comply and I lay the length of you, softly playing my hand across your chest. I love to play you, and spend a lot of time doing so. Tonight, though, away from the busy-ness of our lives, I want to mark the passing of the year, our first together. "may I serve you, Ma'am?" "no, john, just be still. Kiss me, pet." The kiss is the beginning of a conversation, the first step in the lovers' dance. I am taken with how well you've learned to listen, and that shows in your kiss. The call and response of my tongue to yours, I lick your lips, nibble them, pulling gently, then begin thrusting my tongue rhythmically in your mouth, slow, then steadily faster, deeper. As I do so, your pelvis begins to rock softly, and I feel myself engorge. I am hungry for you, pet. without breaking the kiss, I swing on top of you and take you inside of me, pushing down onto you. you reach up and we embrace hard, you half sitting up as I ride you. I am very careful to not ride too fast, although that takes a Herculean effort. I separate from you and put my hands on your shoulders and my breast in your mouth, cooing to you, "That's good, boy, harder, yes, good..."
I then lean and take your nipples, each in turn, in my mouth, teasing and sucking them. you groan and push against me, and I stop, again, trying to prolong the coupling. I look down at you, flushed, sweating, and find myself with tears in my eyes that wash down over you. I am still trying to wrap my brain around the reality of you. you catch the emotion and smile softly. I say, "john, thank you for your service, dear pet. Happy New Year." leaning in again to kiss you, this time, I tighten on you and ride hard, fast, and begin to shake as your manhood plunges again and again inside me, triggering my own release. you feel the spasms gripping you and I say, "Yes! Give Me your gift, boy, NOW!"
Kissing you, you scream into my mouth, shock wave after shock wave rocking your body.
Until finally, spent, heart racing, you relax.
I straighten out lying still mostly on top, feeling you slip out, sighing.
I wrap my hand around your manhood and we fall asleep, sated, in ways that neither of us could have imagined.
12.28.2008
Eroticism of Sound
Chain clanking against metal as a restraned arm struggles and tests
SMACK as palm meets bared ass
Rhythmic thud as the flogger repeatedly hits its target
A tremulous "yes, Mistress" whispered in the middle of the night
A deep throated groan that turns to a scream in orgasmic release
Sound. The bass line of an erotic dance.
SMACK as palm meets bared ass
Rhythmic thud as the flogger repeatedly hits its target
A tremulous "yes, Mistress" whispered in the middle of the night
A deep throated groan that turns to a scream in orgasmic release
Sound. The bass line of an erotic dance.
12.27.2008
As A Rule
Life provides reminders when we pay attention. A recent reminder is a simple, simple one.
When something that I deeply desire presents itself on my path and I have an opportunity to get it, will I organize myself well and mount a full court press, or will I fall back on my arrogance and make a less than stellar effort? In watching another of late in a situation similar, I scratch my head and am almost embarrassed by that less than stellar effort. I resolve hereby at this moment to keep sharp and bless the clarity of vision I have when I have it.
May we all keep sharp and do our best, as a rule, not an exception.
Always do my best.
When something that I deeply desire presents itself on my path and I have an opportunity to get it, will I organize myself well and mount a full court press, or will I fall back on my arrogance and make a less than stellar effort? In watching another of late in a situation similar, I scratch my head and am almost embarrassed by that less than stellar effort. I resolve hereby at this moment to keep sharp and bless the clarity of vision I have when I have it.
Gifts come with responsibilities.
May we all keep sharp and do our best, as a rule, not an exception.
12.21.2008
Winter Solstice
I don't remember a Solstice that looked this wintry -- certainly not in the nearly two decades during which I've resided in the northwest. The snow drifts form an irregular pattern on the yard -- like a restless lover's bunched up blankets my bed.
This shortest day yielding to the returning of the light is the favorite day of the year in this quarter. The simple analogy of darkness yielding to light, and the blessed reality, the returning of more light in the long winter compel me to gratitude.
Understand holidays, leastwise those based in the retail environment, eludes me. Weary head scratch. The Solstices and the Equinoxes wherein something actually happens that isn't human created -- are the days that evoke deepest contemplations.
This shortest day yielding to the returning of the light is the favorite day of the year in this quarter. The simple analogy of darkness yielding to light, and the blessed reality, the returning of more light in the long winter compel me to gratitude.
Understand holidays, leastwise those based in the retail environment, eludes me. Weary head scratch. The Solstices and the Equinoxes wherein something actually happens that isn't human created -- are the days that evoke deepest contemplations.
12.12.2008
Yin/Yang
He is strong, deeply intelligent, engaged in the world, well spoken and well traveled, firmly suited in his maleness. She is beautiful in the way that stops you, and incredibly shy. All femme, she is, but for a bit of plumbing. When I look at him, I do not see her, and when I look at her, there is, perhaps, a flash of him. When I go inside the male, I feel her; when I touch inside her, I feel them each as well.
En femme, she is coltish, younger than her years. But for the shyness, she would be commanding and graceful, despite her submissiveness. Her style is hip and cheeky, as though she wants to flaunt tradition and combine several styles. The result is ... delightful. She REALLY gets makeup. He is blessed with a face that, sans makeup, is absolutely male, with eyes that are witchy in their intensity. Her makeup takes about as long to apply as does my own. Fifteen minutes to make a transition. Stunning.
I freely admit a deep interest in and fascination with cross dressers. Gender bending, androgyny, drag; the increasing fluidity with which sexuality is defined by every person who engages in the exercise is an incredible opening of our sense of possibility.
My angst is in the still institutionalized and heavily practiced misunderstanding and condemnation of those who blur up the lines. I wish everyone who has another person living inside who screams to be freed is able to give voice -- and life -- to that part of ourselves. It is my Pollyanna idealist self who thinks that every one of us can help soften up the edges of fear and misunderstanding by simply articulating our comfort with fuzzing the lines. A girl with a surprise under her skirt is ALWAYS welcome here.
En femme, she is coltish, younger than her years. But for the shyness, she would be commanding and graceful, despite her submissiveness. Her style is hip and cheeky, as though she wants to flaunt tradition and combine several styles. The result is ... delightful. She REALLY gets makeup. He is blessed with a face that, sans makeup, is absolutely male, with eyes that are witchy in their intensity. Her makeup takes about as long to apply as does my own. Fifteen minutes to make a transition. Stunning.
I freely admit a deep interest in and fascination with cross dressers. Gender bending, androgyny, drag; the increasing fluidity with which sexuality is defined by every person who engages in the exercise is an incredible opening of our sense of possibility.
My angst is in the still institutionalized and heavily practiced misunderstanding and condemnation of those who blur up the lines. I wish everyone who has another person living inside who screams to be freed is able to give voice -- and life -- to that part of ourselves. It is my Pollyanna idealist self who thinks that every one of us can help soften up the edges of fear and misunderstanding by simply articulating our comfort with fuzzing the lines. A girl with a surprise under her skirt is ALWAYS welcome here.
12.10.2008
Call in Straight.Ish
Today is Call in Gay Day, to honor queers and to show how our absence from the community would MATTER, and of course, to protest the passage of Measure 8 in CA and homophobic laws in AZ and wherethehelleverelse.
Since I'm bisexual, I called in for half a day.
Since I'm bisexual, I called in for half a day.
12.09.2008
Some Notes About A Girl
She has been in my life now since 1992. That's quite a stretch of time. She has been my girl on the side, my lover, my slave, and my friend. I've watched her grow from being a tough, very rough around the edges butch-dyke kid to being a capable, lovely, sweet, intelligent feminine woman. Ours has been a rocky, rocky path. I am incredibly hard to live with (and I don't just mean co-habitate), and very unforgiving of boundary breaches. Somehow I have made space for forgiveness with her on several occasions, as she has for me. I don't believe that there has been another soul in the world to whom I've granted such impunity. There's just something about this girl...
To look in her eyes and see the magnitude of her love is purely daunting, even still. I cannot keep looking there, because it is not in me to fully return that kind of love -- not, I believe, to anyone. My independence keeps me isolated, demands that I hold back from full engagement. She pays a price for this dance, this I know. And yet, she is still here. To be loved unconditionally, without reserve, it is not a thing for which I'd ever ask or seek. But, it is the gift she gives me. She will no longer let me hurt her heart, as she has grown into the fullness of her adulthood. For this, I am deeply grateful.
For my part, I give my best. I try to share my life without inviting her in to places I know that I will regret letting someone share. That's a thing I am slowly learning. As a solitary being, I have to work my discipline and NOT open places where I know, ultimately, I will want to keep private. She has suffered my clumsiness in this regard. That is my own journey with grace. How does one live a private life without unwittingly offending those I love by keeping private? A definite work in progress.
She is coming for Christmas. Neither of us celebrates Christmas, but we will celebrate one another during these sweet days as we partake in whatever adventures I concoct and in which she is happily complicit. I'm looking forward to sweet sleepy muzzy mornings with the crossword puzzles and her soft body, so ready for my touch. She's a gift, and I love her.
To look in her eyes and see the magnitude of her love is purely daunting, even still. I cannot keep looking there, because it is not in me to fully return that kind of love -- not, I believe, to anyone. My independence keeps me isolated, demands that I hold back from full engagement. She pays a price for this dance, this I know. And yet, she is still here. To be loved unconditionally, without reserve, it is not a thing for which I'd ever ask or seek. But, it is the gift she gives me. She will no longer let me hurt her heart, as she has grown into the fullness of her adulthood. For this, I am deeply grateful.
For my part, I give my best. I try to share my life without inviting her in to places I know that I will regret letting someone share. That's a thing I am slowly learning. As a solitary being, I have to work my discipline and NOT open places where I know, ultimately, I will want to keep private. She has suffered my clumsiness in this regard. That is my own journey with grace. How does one live a private life without unwittingly offending those I love by keeping private? A definite work in progress.
She is coming for Christmas. Neither of us celebrates Christmas, but we will celebrate one another during these sweet days as we partake in whatever adventures I concoct and in which she is happily complicit. I'm looking forward to sweet sleepy muzzy mornings with the crossword puzzles and her soft body, so ready for my touch. She's a gift, and I love her.
Listening Through the Silence
As a verbal, wordy, reasonably articulate person who is blessed and cursed with clarity most all the time (with notable lapses!), one of my biggest communications challenges is relating to those for whom words are NOT the effortless form of expression I know them to be. As a Dominant, in an intimate engagement, I rely on my ability to get inside someone's head, their heart, and deeper still if our energies work together to make that possible. Certainly, words are an essential vehicle to facilitate that drive. But, when the other cannot call forth words...?
There are a LOT of ways to listen. I pretty much do the world through my ears. Taking words out of the equation, I am forced to employ my weakest sense, my eyes. I always pay some level of visual attention, but truthfully, my visual acuity is laughable. In the silence, however, my eyes wake up. I see textures, I watch (in addition to hear) breathing. I scrutinize facial expression.
My second most finely tuned sense is my visceral/kinesthetic sense. When words go away, I deeply rely on my gut. I love operating with this sense as primary. It is amazing, so long as the person that I am "hearing" is energetically on a wave length onto which I can grab, that's a gift. I appreciate the challenge of the silent language, and I confess my worry that I will miss something.
As a D, confessing an insecurity is vexsome. There's a balance between imbuing a feeling of security for one's s and in speaking a truth. Setting expectations is important. "I need for you to stay at least present enough to give me some mileposts along this journey. I know words are not going to hold you in good stead, so you need to find another way to speak to me. If you do not, I will stop." And so the dance becomes much more subtle. A touch of a hand on my arm, very light, a flex of muscles, toward me, away from me. A call and response, asked and answered. Sweet.
Still, I am edgy to HEAR the words. And always, I am grateful for the lesson.
There are a LOT of ways to listen. I pretty much do the world through my ears. Taking words out of the equation, I am forced to employ my weakest sense, my eyes. I always pay some level of visual attention, but truthfully, my visual acuity is laughable. In the silence, however, my eyes wake up. I see textures, I watch (in addition to hear) breathing. I scrutinize facial expression.
My second most finely tuned sense is my visceral/kinesthetic sense. When words go away, I deeply rely on my gut. I love operating with this sense as primary. It is amazing, so long as the person that I am "hearing" is energetically on a wave length onto which I can grab, that's a gift. I appreciate the challenge of the silent language, and I confess my worry that I will miss something.
As a D, confessing an insecurity is vexsome. There's a balance between imbuing a feeling of security for one's s and in speaking a truth. Setting expectations is important. "I need for you to stay at least present enough to give me some mileposts along this journey. I know words are not going to hold you in good stead, so you need to find another way to speak to me. If you do not, I will stop." And so the dance becomes much more subtle. A touch of a hand on my arm, very light, a flex of muscles, toward me, away from me. A call and response, asked and answered. Sweet.
Still, I am edgy to HEAR the words. And always, I am grateful for the lesson.
12.06.2008
12.04.2008
Can't Help Myself
Craigslist is an amazing resource. Sell stuff, buy stuff, find jobs, services, lovers, you name it. It's also on my short list for entertainment. The creative use of language is a never ending crackup. Today's grin:
You Must Be:
Over 30
Have Car
Have Job
Clean
And Able To Host A Fun Time At Your House At Your Discrepancy.
Truth is most always funnier than fiction.
Life is good.
You Must Be:
Over 30
Have Car
Have Job
Clean
And Able To Host A Fun Time At Your House At Your Discrepancy.
Truth is most always funnier than fiction.
Life is good.
11.26.2008
boy
"Come, boy."
he turned from the sink, wiping his hands on the bright white dish towel, dutiful servant. he wore a white apron with a bib and ruffle and nothing more, save the 2" black pumps and Aneros insertable that nobody would know was there unless they watched his face battling to stay focused from the chronic stimulation, knowing he would be punished if he dared give in to the pleasure.
his expression as he turned, what can I say? It was beatific. Taller than Me by five inches if we each are barefoot, this evening, I equalized a bit by wearing six inch platform patent leather strap-ins, making the difference only marginal. he came to Me, knelt, legs spread, palms up on his nicely developed thighs.
"Worship."
he carefully unzipped My black spandex pants, not knowing what he would find. he gasped in a ragged breath as he extracted My perpetually turgid favorite black cock. his hands went immediately behind his back, and Mine to his head as he opened his mouth wide to take Me in. I held fast, letting him have a moment to adjust, to lubricate My rod before forcing Myself through his throat sphincter.
"That's it, pretty, make Mistress happy. Mmm, take Me..." Pushing his lips all the way into My belly, rocking back and forth, knowing he could not breathe, right to the edge, and then letting him back off. I tilted his head up to see him, eyes watering, rich spit flowing from his lips to My phallus. his eyes shone, and I said, "you do please Me, boy. you worked very hard this week, I have a gift for you. Please do your obesiance and then come with Me." he wiped My phallus with his apron, kissed it, and zipped My pants, and said, "You honor me, Mistress. Thank You for allowing me to please You."
I turned and went down the hall to My bedroom and stopped at the door, blocking it. he began to kneel as I stood, but I stopped his descent, seeking his member under the apron. Fully erect, as I anticipated, I felt his girth and the heat emanating, and grinned evilly. I pulled him to Me for a kiss, finding his tongue, dancing, nibbling his lips. his hunger telegraphed itself to Me, yet his disciplined restraint never slipped.
I stepped away from the door and he saw the suit bag hanging in front of the closet sporting a large red bow. "Go ahead, pretty. Open it." I lounged on the edge of the bed and watched as he reached to unzip the bag, carefully folding back the cover to expose black silk. A jacket and slacks, with a cut that was distinctly different, soft almot cowl neck collar on the jacket, tucked in a bit at the waist. The dense lush black of fine silk, with silk lining, a deep forest green.
"Please take special note of the construction of the trousers, boy." The slacks also exquisitely tailored, made for his long frame, with one delightful difference: the zipper in the fly did not end, but went the entire length of the seam, so that a devilish Mistress who desired access could unzip from the back, taking Her boy in all manner of opportune and inopportune occasions. He found the odd construction and immediately turned bright red.
I laughed and said, "The rest is here, boy," pointing to the boxes on the bed. The look on his face was worth the expense. He knelt next to the bed and opened the box with the shirt, pure white, soft deep cuffs, soft collar again, form fitting.
The shoes, of course, were men's opera pumps, naturally, with a heel slightly higher than was traditional. Soft black patent.
"Mistress, if i may?" "Speak."
"It is beautiful. It is a men's suit but....not. Softer, feminine, but not so that..."
he struggled for words and I interjected, "It is a suit sewn for a proud submissive boy, My dear. you deserve it. your obedience and fealty do not go unnoticed. And, besides, I thought you might want something nice to wear when, with our friends around us, you formally accept this."
I handed him one last box, smaller than the rest, keeping his gaze for a long moment. Those eyes, reflecting back the love that I felt fiercely, My boy, dear slave.
he opened the wrapping, exposing a black velvet jewel box. Hands shaking, he opened the box to expose an antique white gold finely worked thin torque, with an emerald in the middle and a clasp that made the piece a solid collar.
he touched the torque and brushed away a tear. I let the moments pass in silence. he moved so that he knelt directly in front of Me not looking up, tears flowing now, shoulder shaking. Such a sweet moment, this, the fruition of much time passing, challenges faced, many victories, some losses. And here we were, a question in My heart, an answer in his.
he took a deep, deep breath, wiped his eyes and looked at Me, started to speak, then stopped. Started and stopped. I smiled at him, took his face gently, and pulled him to Me, enveloping him. I felt his strength and his openness, his vulnerability. I reflected briefly on the warp and weave of our lives and thought about how his service made the fabric of My life unspeakably richer.
"Yes, Ma'am," he whispered. Clearing his throat, louder, more steady, "Yes, Mistress, i will humbly and so proudly do this thing you ask, all of it, kneel before you surrounded by our friends and accept this beautiful collar. Yes!"
he turned from the sink, wiping his hands on the bright white dish towel, dutiful servant. he wore a white apron with a bib and ruffle and nothing more, save the 2" black pumps and Aneros insertable that nobody would know was there unless they watched his face battling to stay focused from the chronic stimulation, knowing he would be punished if he dared give in to the pleasure.
his expression as he turned, what can I say? It was beatific. Taller than Me by five inches if we each are barefoot, this evening, I equalized a bit by wearing six inch platform patent leather strap-ins, making the difference only marginal. he came to Me, knelt, legs spread, palms up on his nicely developed thighs.
"Worship."
he carefully unzipped My black spandex pants, not knowing what he would find. he gasped in a ragged breath as he extracted My perpetually turgid favorite black cock. his hands went immediately behind his back, and Mine to his head as he opened his mouth wide to take Me in. I held fast, letting him have a moment to adjust, to lubricate My rod before forcing Myself through his throat sphincter.
"That's it, pretty, make Mistress happy. Mmm, take Me..." Pushing his lips all the way into My belly, rocking back and forth, knowing he could not breathe, right to the edge, and then letting him back off. I tilted his head up to see him, eyes watering, rich spit flowing from his lips to My phallus. his eyes shone, and I said, "you do please Me, boy. you worked very hard this week, I have a gift for you. Please do your obesiance and then come with Me." he wiped My phallus with his apron, kissed it, and zipped My pants, and said, "You honor me, Mistress. Thank You for allowing me to please You."
I turned and went down the hall to My bedroom and stopped at the door, blocking it. he began to kneel as I stood, but I stopped his descent, seeking his member under the apron. Fully erect, as I anticipated, I felt his girth and the heat emanating, and grinned evilly. I pulled him to Me for a kiss, finding his tongue, dancing, nibbling his lips. his hunger telegraphed itself to Me, yet his disciplined restraint never slipped.
I stepped away from the door and he saw the suit bag hanging in front of the closet sporting a large red bow. "Go ahead, pretty. Open it." I lounged on the edge of the bed and watched as he reached to unzip the bag, carefully folding back the cover to expose black silk. A jacket and slacks, with a cut that was distinctly different, soft almot cowl neck collar on the jacket, tucked in a bit at the waist. The dense lush black of fine silk, with silk lining, a deep forest green.
"Please take special note of the construction of the trousers, boy." The slacks also exquisitely tailored, made for his long frame, with one delightful difference: the zipper in the fly did not end, but went the entire length of the seam, so that a devilish Mistress who desired access could unzip from the back, taking Her boy in all manner of opportune and inopportune occasions. He found the odd construction and immediately turned bright red.
I laughed and said, "The rest is here, boy," pointing to the boxes on the bed. The look on his face was worth the expense. He knelt next to the bed and opened the box with the shirt, pure white, soft deep cuffs, soft collar again, form fitting.
The shoes, of course, were men's opera pumps, naturally, with a heel slightly higher than was traditional. Soft black patent.
"Mistress, if i may?" "Speak."
"It is beautiful. It is a men's suit but....not. Softer, feminine, but not so that..."
he struggled for words and I interjected, "It is a suit sewn for a proud submissive boy, My dear. you deserve it. your obedience and fealty do not go unnoticed. And, besides, I thought you might want something nice to wear when, with our friends around us, you formally accept this."
I handed him one last box, smaller than the rest, keeping his gaze for a long moment. Those eyes, reflecting back the love that I felt fiercely, My boy, dear slave.
he opened the wrapping, exposing a black velvet jewel box. Hands shaking, he opened the box to expose an antique white gold finely worked thin torque, with an emerald in the middle and a clasp that made the piece a solid collar.
he touched the torque and brushed away a tear. I let the moments pass in silence. he moved so that he knelt directly in front of Me not looking up, tears flowing now, shoulder shaking. Such a sweet moment, this, the fruition of much time passing, challenges faced, many victories, some losses. And here we were, a question in My heart, an answer in his.
he took a deep, deep breath, wiped his eyes and looked at Me, started to speak, then stopped. Started and stopped. I smiled at him, took his face gently, and pulled him to Me, enveloping him. I felt his strength and his openness, his vulnerability. I reflected briefly on the warp and weave of our lives and thought about how his service made the fabric of My life unspeakably richer.
"Yes, Ma'am," he whispered. Clearing his throat, louder, more steady, "Yes, Mistress, i will humbly and so proudly do this thing you ask, all of it, kneel before you surrounded by our friends and accept this beautiful collar. Yes!"
11.24.2008
On Closets
I posted a comment on a wonderful blog (http://submissivemale.blogspot.com/)recently about being out of the closet as a Femme Domme and was amazed to realize that My comments engendered discussion. One of the things that I found most interesting was this, "When you are completely comfortable with who you are as person you have less need to tell people about it - rather you just go about living your life in the way that makes the most sense to you."
So, if we live a life that is non-mainstream, one that still is the subject of a gross amount of ridicule, discrimination, ignorance, and misunderstanding, so long as we're comfortable with ourselves, we get a pass on doing anything to change the world's perceptions? Huh. I missed that chapter in Responsible Living 101...not to mention the joy of the comic potential in the learning process for all involved.
I remember a long time ago when I was 20 and the VP of the local chapter of the women's political caucus. We were interviewing a candidate for sheriff. He was the currently elected sheriff running for re-election. He said something that became a key to my life. "When I answer the phone and it's the 12th woman experiencing domestic violence I've spoken to in that day, I CANNOT bring forth my angst and frustration at all that happened in the previous eleven phone calls. I have to be all there for her at that moment."
In My life I've had a seemingly endless number of closets out of which to navigate. I just don't believe we get a pass. Every time we do the work, there are lessons, profoundly positive lessons, for us -- and others -- to learn. Contentment and complacency just don't make for a full use of the air we breathe.
So, if we live a life that is non-mainstream, one that still is the subject of a gross amount of ridicule, discrimination, ignorance, and misunderstanding, so long as we're comfortable with ourselves, we get a pass on doing anything to change the world's perceptions? Huh. I missed that chapter in Responsible Living 101...not to mention the joy of the comic potential in the learning process for all involved.
I remember a long time ago when I was 20 and the VP of the local chapter of the women's political caucus. We were interviewing a candidate for sheriff. He was the currently elected sheriff running for re-election. He said something that became a key to my life. "When I answer the phone and it's the 12th woman experiencing domestic violence I've spoken to in that day, I CANNOT bring forth my angst and frustration at all that happened in the previous eleven phone calls. I have to be all there for her at that moment."
In My life I've had a seemingly endless number of closets out of which to navigate. I just don't believe we get a pass. Every time we do the work, there are lessons, profoundly positive lessons, for us -- and others -- to learn. Contentment and complacency just don't make for a full use of the air we breathe.
11.14.2008
Habitudes
I am searching for a new place to live. My dear housemate soon inherits a room or more full of stuff and the room in which the stuff will reside is the one in which I currently occupy space. The notion of finding a house in which to lay my head and hopefully to make a bit of a home is daunting. Who will have a one with as many adjectives preceding my name? How much information is enough to share and when do I get in to the TMI danger zone? Will I scare someone off the first time they hear the repetitive thud of the flogger or is it better to warn them ahead of time? Likewise, how much do my future housemates need to know about what exactly polyamorus means? Shall I furnish them with a list of definitions for all those troublesome adjectives?
Crap.
Off to craigslist I go to find people looking for housemates.
I answered this ad:
Looking for open minded female to share a SE home with male. High speed internet washer dryer and dishwasher. Please be a mature non smoker with no pets. thanks (sic)
After momentarily wondering what was an internet washer, I decided this seemed innocuous enough and I dropped a note.
I'm a mature (51) female who is a non-smoker, non-drinker, very open minded, equal parts brainiac and nutball. Very self-contained, quiet as a housemate, a writer with a day gig.
I received this reply.
You sound like a very nice lady. I am not far from where you work, so this would be close for you. I am a intellectual guy interested in many things and a few years older than you. At this time I am doing software development and I have my own web site where I sell my products. I would love to share my home and bed with you lets talk.
Remember what I said recently about life being good or good material? I read it again, yup. ...share my home and my bed with you... I live for moments like this. I ripped off an e-mail to my circle of maniac friends and we all had a fabulous laugh. They asked what I planned to do, and I said I intended to meet him, the house looked great!
I rang up later and he complimented me on my sexy voice (gack). I asked him where exactly his house was, and he assured me again that it was very close to my work. When I reiterated the question, he told me. The ad made it sound like he lived smack in the middle of my target area. But, he lives far south and not even in my city. He got more defensive as I pressed him, and I finally said, It was one thing for you to not be upfront in your ad about looking for a sexual partner in a roommate. That was at least entertaining. But, when you just lied about your location, now THAT pisses me off. Thanks anyway.
Crap.
Off to craigslist I go to find people looking for housemates.
I answered this ad:
Looking for open minded female to share a SE home with male. High speed internet washer dryer and dishwasher. Please be a mature non smoker with no pets. thanks (sic)
After momentarily wondering what was an internet washer, I decided this seemed innocuous enough and I dropped a note.
I'm a mature (51) female who is a non-smoker, non-drinker, very open minded, equal parts brainiac and nutball. Very self-contained, quiet as a housemate, a writer with a day gig.
I received this reply.
You sound like a very nice lady. I am not far from where you work, so this would be close for you. I am a intellectual guy interested in many things and a few years older than you. At this time I am doing software development and I have my own web site where I sell my products. I would love to share my home and bed with you lets talk.
Remember what I said recently about life being good or good material? I read it again, yup. ...share my home and my bed with you... I live for moments like this. I ripped off an e-mail to my circle of maniac friends and we all had a fabulous laugh. They asked what I planned to do, and I said I intended to meet him, the house looked great!
I rang up later and he complimented me on my sexy voice (gack). I asked him where exactly his house was, and he assured me again that it was very close to my work. When I reiterated the question, he told me. The ad made it sound like he lived smack in the middle of my target area. But, he lives far south and not even in my city. He got more defensive as I pressed him, and I finally said, It was one thing for you to not be upfront in your ad about looking for a sexual partner in a roommate. That was at least entertaining. But, when you just lied about your location, now THAT pisses me off. Thanks anyway.
11.10.2008
Golf...flog
I got infected with golf from a dear friend who was at that point in my life my lover. I took one lesson, hit one great shot, heard that perfect thwock, felt and saw the ball fly, sweetly aloft, and I was sunk. I am a guilty golfer, of course, as it's irresponsible to NOT note the environmental ridiculousness of the sport. Chemicals, chemicals, chemicals, water, water, water, and a just stupid use of land. But, sigh, I guess that's why it's called an addiction. Just the prospect of the next amazing shot...
Kink has been a substantial part of My life for a stupid long time. If I had golfed as long, I'd be a helluva golfer by now. The day that I realized that the two mirrored one another letter wise, I'd just finished golfing and racing home with My boy for some intense hours of handballing. The parallels cracked Me the hell up. Every time a golfer plays a course, no matter whether the same day or same month, the conditions are different. When I play a body, it's no different. The conditions are complicated, the course is every changing. There are soooo many ways to get to one's intended destination, and being at top form demands focus and discipline. (pun not intended).
I believe it is incumbent on kinksters everywhere to take up golf as Y/your sport! Just imagine how much fun it would be to scandalize this profession that still operates with sexism as a principle....oh, joyous day to see collars on the course!
Kink has been a substantial part of My life for a stupid long time. If I had golfed as long, I'd be a helluva golfer by now. The day that I realized that the two mirrored one another letter wise, I'd just finished golfing and racing home with My boy for some intense hours of handballing. The parallels cracked Me the hell up. Every time a golfer plays a course, no matter whether the same day or same month, the conditions are different. When I play a body, it's no different. The conditions are complicated, the course is every changing. There are soooo many ways to get to one's intended destination, and being at top form demands focus and discipline. (pun not intended).
I believe it is incumbent on kinksters everywhere to take up golf as Y/your sport! Just imagine how much fun it would be to scandalize this profession that still operates with sexism as a principle....oh, joyous day to see collars on the course!
11.04.2008
On Being a Circus Oddity
My life is decidedly outside the mainstream, as are the lives of many I know and love. It doesn't feel weird to me, it's just me in my skin doing what I do. To others, my being a polyamorus kinky bisexual Dominant former lesbian now straight.ish, seems often to be cause for curiousity. Sometimes close friends sometimes are impatient for my next adventure. I don't mind that so much, as I love to tell stories from time to time, especially those wherein I'm an idiot in some way or other. But, I do not much like to feel as though I'm a circus act. That purely chaps my former cowgirl hide.
Last evening I met a man who basically interviewed me for an hour and a half before I finally said NO MORE. Getting to know someone -- I seem to recollect that works best when it's a dialog, not an interogation. I get that we learn from others' experience. Naive and unchecked curiosity is tedious. Do your homework on a subject and learn online or something. Or, at least make sure you're not talking with a curmudgeon who, despite being freakish, prefers to choose with whom and how much she shares her freakishness.
Last evening I met a man who basically interviewed me for an hour and a half before I finally said NO MORE. Getting to know someone -- I seem to recollect that works best when it's a dialog, not an interogation. I get that we learn from others' experience. Naive and unchecked curiosity is tedious. Do your homework on a subject and learn online or something. Or, at least make sure you're not talking with a curmudgeon who, despite being freakish, prefers to choose with whom and how much she shares her freakishness.
Velcro versus Teflon Brain
Ever had a conversation with someone and having no context for the content of their words, felt them hitting the wall of your brain and sliding right down to pool on the ground? Damn that Teflon. On the other side of the brain, conversing wherein you share consonance and context, even the most deliciously abstract concepts bury themselves in those little Velcro tendrils, nevermore to stray. Bliss.
My brain seems to enjoy a happy schizophrenia between the two hemispheres, Velcro and Teflon. I continue to try hard to remind myself to manage to my Teflon side, and seek context. Likewise, when speaking, I work to remember to provide context. Sometimes, it's just not possible. When I'm speaking at a graduate level and my listener hasn't started school on a given topic, yea, I can hear the blobs of prospective knowledge hitting, SPLAT! and sliding down, down, down.
The angst I feel when I have a Teflon moment inspires me to continue my commitment to seeking and providing context. If only we all had the patience to unpack those things about which we speak.
Yea, not likely.
My brain seems to enjoy a happy schizophrenia between the two hemispheres, Velcro and Teflon. I continue to try hard to remind myself to manage to my Teflon side, and seek context. Likewise, when speaking, I work to remember to provide context. Sometimes, it's just not possible. When I'm speaking at a graduate level and my listener hasn't started school on a given topic, yea, I can hear the blobs of prospective knowledge hitting, SPLAT! and sliding down, down, down.
The angst I feel when I have a Teflon moment inspires me to continue my commitment to seeking and providing context. If only we all had the patience to unpack those things about which we speak.
Yea, not likely.
11.02.2008
Really Bad Sex
Last night, I had the worst sex in recent memory. It made me call on my mantra as a comic writer: life is either good or good material. I will say first that, despite the bad sex, I had a great time, because the perpetrator of the badness was a nice guy, completely unaware of his lack of competence. (Note to self: write SOON about the hilarity and the synergistic affects of unconscious incompetence).
First, the kiss. Kissing is elemental in the sexual/sensual dance in my world. It is the first place wherein we learn how our partner (or prospective partner) listens, adapts, leads and follows. We also learn how much imagination the individual employees, and how aware of his/her body s/he is.
Boy du jour got started by not making any attempt to kiss me or to make physical contact on meeting. Given that this was a sexual hookup, I found that odd. Although I'm a Dominant in the BDSM world, when I'm in a vanilla space, I tend to hang back a bit and watch to see how people orient. It's a little bit like a vacation, I just want to see where someone wants to go. I don't always assume I'm driving. He continued to not touch me as we laid on the bed. It wasn't that he wasn't attracted, he was just clearly clueless of how to behave. That's the point at which I refuse to save someone. Incompetence is not something I reward. I was already amused.
An hour later after long funny conversations, I began nodding off, so I assume he caught a clue. Coming in for The Kiss, he resembled a drive by shooter, swooping in with a blast of tongue wiggling and then racing off. I couldn't get him to engage with lips or mouth with any kind of flow. Like dancing with someone who has both no sense of rhythm AND is hearing different music in his head.
Poor guy also neglected to tell me that he has some E.D. issues. High blood pressure, and poor health overall, I'd guess. Continuing to laugh inside...much attention to his manhood yielded no good result. I take that personally, not being able to help in that respect! After more driveby kissing, he decided to please me with his hand. (Isn't that sex 101?) He could not kiss me and use his fingers at the same time. Kinda like the organ, I can't manage two hands and a foot pedal.
How the heck can someone get to be an adult and still be THAT poor a lover?
Don't answer that. I don't want to know.
First, the kiss. Kissing is elemental in the sexual/sensual dance in my world. It is the first place wherein we learn how our partner (or prospective partner) listens, adapts, leads and follows. We also learn how much imagination the individual employees, and how aware of his/her body s/he is.
Boy du jour got started by not making any attempt to kiss me or to make physical contact on meeting. Given that this was a sexual hookup, I found that odd. Although I'm a Dominant in the BDSM world, when I'm in a vanilla space, I tend to hang back a bit and watch to see how people orient. It's a little bit like a vacation, I just want to see where someone wants to go. I don't always assume I'm driving. He continued to not touch me as we laid on the bed. It wasn't that he wasn't attracted, he was just clearly clueless of how to behave. That's the point at which I refuse to save someone. Incompetence is not something I reward. I was already amused.
An hour later after long funny conversations, I began nodding off, so I assume he caught a clue. Coming in for The Kiss, he resembled a drive by shooter, swooping in with a blast of tongue wiggling and then racing off. I couldn't get him to engage with lips or mouth with any kind of flow. Like dancing with someone who has both no sense of rhythm AND is hearing different music in his head.
Poor guy also neglected to tell me that he has some E.D. issues. High blood pressure, and poor health overall, I'd guess. Continuing to laugh inside...much attention to his manhood yielded no good result. I take that personally, not being able to help in that respect! After more driveby kissing, he decided to please me with his hand. (Isn't that sex 101?) He could not kiss me and use his fingers at the same time. Kinda like the organ, I can't manage two hands and a foot pedal.
How the heck can someone get to be an adult and still be THAT poor a lover?
Don't answer that. I don't want to know.
10.28.2008
True Believers
"The constant assertion of belief is an indication of fear. " Jiddu Krishnamurti
One week before the election and the fear from the conservative side of the aisle, at least from the fringe wing continues to mount. The "true believers" are out in force.
Likewise, progressives. We are petrified to lose this one. The stakes are high, indeed.
If we follow Krishnamurti's path, we will ALL live in the moment and we will all be without fear. Notice, do not fracture through analysis. Breathe and be.
One week before the election and the fear from the conservative side of the aisle, at least from the fringe wing continues to mount. The "true believers" are out in force.
Likewise, progressives. We are petrified to lose this one. The stakes are high, indeed.
If we follow Krishnamurti's path, we will ALL live in the moment and we will all be without fear. Notice, do not fracture through analysis. Breathe and be.
10.27.2008
Fuzzing Up the Lines
Why are we so afraid of fuzzy lines? Humans seem propelled to want strict definitions of our realities. We spend an extraordinary amount of energy trying to be clear, to understand, to create consensus. No matter whether it's work, play, or personal lives, the desire to define and understand is great. No sooner do we define than we begin coming up with ways to cheat the definition. Monogamy comes to mind. It is not news that there is tremendous angst about this social model. Every time I encounter someone struggling within its bounds, I ask about why they don't enter into a discussion about fuzzing up the lines. Invariably the answer is some derivation of "S/he would never be able to handle it." When asked if the subject has been broached, the answer is frequently, "I wouldn't do that." Instead, the person to whom I'm speaking would prefer to quietly step outside the bounds of the arrangement. I wonder, of the millions who do engage in stepping out, how many of their spouse/partners truly ARE clueless. When one's partner's energy becomes other-directed, is it most often not noted by a spouse? Seems doubtful. With subtle undercurrents operating, how long does it take to begin eroding the core of the relationship?
Relationships are meant to be built to withstand hard stuff, right? Why, when at a crossroads for such a discussion, do people avoid he conversation? Huh. Compensatory behaviors are expensive in the end. Conflict aversion trumps honesty a lot of the time.
The land of non-monogamy requires a deep commitment to full disclosure; to recognizing that jealousy is a mask for fear, fear for anger, and that the only way to deal with that package of behaviors is through getting right into the middle of them. No shortcuts, dive in. And trust that the work done to date to build a strong foundation will see you through. It's not as though non-monogamy requires anomie. Indeed, it still requires a clear commitment to simply a different set of rules. The lines are just fuzzier.
Relationships are meant to be built to withstand hard stuff, right? Why, when at a crossroads for such a discussion, do people avoid he conversation? Huh. Compensatory behaviors are expensive in the end. Conflict aversion trumps honesty a lot of the time.
The land of non-monogamy requires a deep commitment to full disclosure; to recognizing that jealousy is a mask for fear, fear for anger, and that the only way to deal with that package of behaviors is through getting right into the middle of them. No shortcuts, dive in. And trust that the work done to date to build a strong foundation will see you through. It's not as though non-monogamy requires anomie. Indeed, it still requires a clear commitment to simply a different set of rules. The lines are just fuzzier.
9.28.2008
Energy Drills and Intentionality
We seek not rest but transformation.
We are dancing through each other as doorways. ~ Marge Piercy
As we walk through the doorway of a new person's life, whether we stay in their house for a moment or a very long time, that gift of potential is humbling and not infrequently, the start new adventure. I recently met someone who, unbeknowst to him, inspired me to begin an exploration of a subject matter into which I've never delved. One exchange and I'm mucking about in a whole new universe of transformative knowledge and awareness.
Life is cool when we pay attention.
We are dancing through each other as doorways. ~ Marge Piercy
As we walk through the doorway of a new person's life, whether we stay in their house for a moment or a very long time, that gift of potential is humbling and not infrequently, the start new adventure. I recently met someone who, unbeknowst to him, inspired me to begin an exploration of a subject matter into which I've never delved. One exchange and I'm mucking about in a whole new universe of transformative knowledge and awareness.
Life is cool when we pay attention.
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