Monday, March 28, 2011

Waiting to be Used

I sit here waiting.  “Waiting for what?” you may ask.  Well, I’m not even sure.  I’ve given Carl permission to use me as he wishes this week.  So, all I know is I got a phone call and was told to get ready. . . so here I sit.  Curled up in bed, typing in high heels  with my red hair cascading over my shoulders, felling utterly ridiculous! ;)  The anxiety feels nearly unbearable but in truth, it’s part of the fun.  I’m nervous and giggly and shaky . . . I just learned that I have to answer the door!  I am so painfully timid and shy that even such a silly thing seems insurmountable . . . strange really.  I mean, the minute we all get naked, I’ll be fine.  No more nervous.  Just poof, gone!  Crazy how that works. . . although it’s pretty hard to feel nervous or even think about being nervous with a hard cock shoved down my throat! :)  

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Will the Real Cock Whore Please Stand Up?

Fuck it’s been a long time since I wrote . . . I utterly despise when life gets in the way of doing the things I love!  I started this blog with the ideal of writing my inner most thoughts about sexuality and, by default, my sex life.  I am amazed at how hard this is!  Whatever I write can be read by anyone (including the people I write about); do I really want them knowing that much about me?  I suppose the honest answer would be, no.  No, I really don’t.  But for the sake of learning I feel that a clear picture of a sexually complex relationship is a worthwhile quest.  In five years, I won’t remember how I felt last week unless I write it down . . . So, here goes, a close up and way-too-fucking-personal look at my relationship with my eccentric, bizarre, incredible absurdly amazing husband.  

I haven’t been writing lately, well I suppose the truth would be – I haven’t felt like writing lately.  Carl (hubby) and I were busy fighting for the better part of a week (hence my last blog. ).  It always seems that, for us – and likely many other couples, the real root of the fight is a lack of communication.  I find that even though we make conscious effort to clearly communicate there will always be hang ups and difficulty – sometimes major difficulty!  With this great exploration we do in our sex life also comes the need for open, honest, clear communication . . . but we are all human and we all make assumptions.  The old saying about how to assume is just to make an ass out of u & me is so very true.  Could you believe that Carl and I screamed and yelled and cursed at each other only to find out days later that it was just a stupid misunderstanding?  How fucking ridiculous is that?  Ok, let’s not dwell on that nasty part . . . it’s important and such a learning opportunity but I want to get on with the good part!
Now that the fighting is over, let’s get on with the making up. . . One of the collaborations that were made is that now Carl is my dom, full time.  Now, we don’t really do things “by the book,” so to speak, so I’ll explain what that looks like to us.  We aren’t “lifestylers,” meaning that we choose to keep our kinky sex and our regular lives somewhat separate.  In essence, Carl tells me what to do in the bedroom but he treats me as an equal in the other aspects of our life.  So, Friday night I’m ready for anything.  I was so nervous.  I had no idea what to expect out of this make-up sex!  :)  Carl made me stand in the living room and take photos for you while he tied me up.  I love being tied, it makes me feel so helpless and vulnerable and taken advantage of.  I am getting wet just thinking about it!  I “run” away during rough sex and being tied makes that more difficult for me.  On this particular evening I was being trained for black cock . . . unbeknownst to me Carl invited a couple of guys over for Saturday play!  He pushed me to my limits in every way Friday night.  By the time we were done every hole on my body was sore and satisfied. . . Then Saturday morning I woke up to a black cock! :)  Carl watched as a friend (whom I’ll call misdemeanor, just for fun!) used me and then filled my wet pussy with cum.  After a day filled with intense foreplay, teasing and touching Carl invited over another friend!  Even though Carl had worn me out the night before, this young man was determined to “sodomize” me! :)  Boy did he!  We stayed up all night and I got fucked until I could barely move (of course Carl has to have his turns in between . . . and, yes, I said turnS)!  By Sunday afternoon we were both so satisfied and content.  I felt more confident and comfortable with my lover than I ever thought possible.  

Carl knows me.  He knows my deepest, darkest, dirtiest secrets and still finds me beautiful, funny, and fascinating.  I will always find that amazing.  It is almost as amazing to me as this idea of “the whole truth.”  As many other people, I was raised in a tight lipped family, I have avoided confrontation and conflict at almost any cost for the majority of my life.  I am dumbfounded every time that honesty (and often a fight or disagreement) results in a bonding experience more profound than I can even describe.  The knowledge that someone truly accepts me and still chooses to love me is almost overwhelming.  I suppose that is what we all seek – to be who we really are.  The fight to cover up or blend in can be exhausting.  After a week of fighting and honesty, we were able to walk away from this weekend truly content.   There we sat.  Completely content.  Basking in the sunshine enjoying a walk, a bowl, and each other’s company.  What a life. :)

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Sometimes "Cunt" Just Doesn't Do Her Justice. . .

I hate fighting.  Fighting is stupid, ridiculous, pathetic, immature, and it’s something we all do.  It seems silly really, but in that moment, in the clenches of a fight, whatever the issue is seems monstrous, insurmountable, or unattainable.  Suddenly there is this atrocious mountain of problems shattering what seemed like a perfect relationship just moments before.  I personally find fights overwhelming, exhausting, and pointless (I mean who really listens during a fight?). 

BUT what I hate the most about fighting is the sexual aftermath incurred.  Now, I know, make up sex can be utterly amazing, but the truth is, unless the issues have been resolved it’s just a cover up, a band aid if you will - the wounds are still there and even if resolution is made and they will remain there for some time.  These little wounds have a way of fostering and growing back into anger and a full-fledged fight, once again (it’s so hard to resist bringing up old issues!).  These little wounds create rifts within the relationship (and thus sex as well).  For example, if one party feels that the other has unrealistic expectations, or doesn’t stop to listen, or is never “in the mood”, but the second party feels as if he or she is being reasonable and attentive and sexual there is an automatic conflict between the two (and under the right circumstances, an all-out war!).  Even after the fight is over, if the underlying feelings have not been dealt with, there will be inevitable damage to the sexual relationship.  In this example, party one may feel like he/she must always exceed the other’s expectations (in order to maintain the peace), make effort to listen, and at least pretend to be “in the mood” more often.  Now if this happens, there is at least potential for long term reconciliation.  However, if party one is doing these things solely to pacify party two, then feelings of resentment begin to brew right alongside those old wounds (remember. . . our pesky old wounds resurface into the same fights repeated).  In this scenario, the impact on sex would be significant.  There would be distrust, resentment, feelings of obligation, disinterest and many other damaging, fight-brewing, feelings.  The truth is everything we say and do influences our significant other in some way  . . . a kiss on the neck brings a far different response than a snappy or passive-aggressive comment.

So, all that said – I’m a terrible fighter.  Ok, for the sake of honesty, I'll say I'm not only a terrible fighter. . . I can be a fucking bitch ass cunt!  Yes, I really said that!  I am willing to admit that sometime "cunt" just doesn't do me justice!  I refuse to talk about my emotions and I clam up.  But then, when I get really angry, it all comes spilling out in the worst ways imaginable.  It’s horrible and I’m working on it but in the middle of a fight, it seems like stepping out and trusting my fragile emotions (and baby communication skills!) is too risky.  I feel vulnerable in a way I don't know how to deal with.  But in truth, by doing this, I just makes things worse. . .

Now, I’ve bared my biggest weakness. . . you have yours – Consider it – what relationships does it affect?  How deeply?  Is it worth it to you to continue your current behavior?  If so, why?  And if not, what can you do about it?

One of my favorite things to remember when I’m angry, sad, overwhelmed, irrational, or just plain bitch ass cunt :) is this quote by Charles Swindoll:
                        The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.
Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness, or skill. It will make or break a company ... a church ... a home.
The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable.
The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude ... I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me, and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you ... we are in charge of our Attitudes

Thursday, February 3, 2011

When is having sex actually having sex?

No consensus in definitions of 'had sex,' study finds

I found this article on a study that we analyzed in my human sexuality course. The information was intriguing to me. . . the disparity between the definition of "had sex" was highly influenced by who was actually having "sex" . . .

So, today, I ask you to ponder this:  At what point do you consider yourself to have "had sex" and at what point would you feel that your significant other was having sex with someone else?  and now comes our most dreaded (and important!) question . . . why?

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

I’ve come a Long Way to get here. . . Part 2: Learning that sometimes the end is really just the beginning

I've Come a Long Way to get here. . . Part One: Learning to Lust

As my marriage became more and more of a mess and I coped with extreme depression, I stumbled upon a website,, because my friends kept sending me quizzes . . . So, for an entirely stupid reason, I set up an account.  At this time, I lived in Wyoming so when I saw that someone nearby had checked out my profile I sent off a message.  Little did I know what I was getting myself into!  He and I sent IM messages back and forth furiously for weeks before we finally convinced our S.O.’s (significant other’s) to meet for a potential swinging relationship.  He had me from our very first conversation.  He was interesting, open minded, experienced, confident, hilarious, flirty, and sexually charged and I didn’t want to resist.  I was so sexually charged, I couldn’t wait to fuck him . . . . After that first night, and some making out :), it was several more weeks of chatting before we were able to meet again.  This time we swapped.  BUT we didn’t fuck.  I know, seems strangely disappointing.  The truth was we sat upstairs and talked.  We kissed and touched and truly basked in each other.  That night was one of the most intimate of my life.  
Shortly after this point I asked my husband to move out and began the divorce process.  There was just too much difference between us.  I hadn’t had a chance to figure out who I was and where I was going before I was knocked up and married.  Now, I don’t say this all for pity – I made a lot of very unwise choices that created massive problems in my life and regardless of age, some choices have life-long consequences.  So, the big, nasty, messy divorce began with a force and I felt free for the first time in my life.

Carl and I had been madly in love for months and attempting – grossly unsuccessfully, I might add – to keep our emotions in check.  We agreed to meet for a weekend getaway.  That weekend was the culmination of months of intense conversation and passion and lust, we were both ready to tear each other apart.  It was so awkward!  We were so nervous (well, me in particular) that it was ridiculously strange first sex kind of sex . . . but that’s what it was . . . :)  After this we looked for excuses to get away on the weekends as often as possible and anytime Carl drove through town, he’d stop by for a quickie. :)  As we became more confident in each other and our sexuality the sex became so intense that we would literally have sex all night and then sleep a few hours and do it again.  We were intent on exploring each other’s bodies in every way imaginable – I think we came close to succeeding!
One weekend in particular made it into my list of top favorite times of my life. . . This weekend we stole away to Salt Lake City, UT.  Carl drove us down.  The drive was beautiful, filled with spectacular views of towering mountains glistening with freshly fallen snow.  Carl had rented us a vacation home for the weekend . . . it was beautiful – and well equipped.  Carl had already talked me into my first sexual experiment!  :)  We spent a day fucking wildly in every corner of the house trying all sorts of things we’d “always wanted to try.”  The whole weekend culminated in Carl’s master plan. . . I was to be fucked by two other men on Saturday night.  I was so nervous; this was way out of my normal weekend play!  I drank most of a bottle of wine and then Carl decided he was going to tie me up and blindfold me in the garage.  That night was unbelievable.  It was so intense; it was like I was in an entirely different place.  Carl always tells people that I was so wet it left a puddle on the garage floor.  Then I say something about how much he exaggerates.   Puddle or no, it was a fantastic weekend.
Life is complicated.  So, I had to move back to Colorado.  It only took Carl a matter of weeks to follow me out though. :)  He left his life behind to move her to live in a tent with me.  Incredible.  I am moved beyond words at what he gave to be here, yet I am selfish enough that I wouldn’t change it if I could.  But now, here we were, a young, unemployed couple living in  a tent trying to figure out how to do life together. . . it was tougher than we ever could have thought possible.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Which came first?

A chicken and an egg are lying in bed.  The chicken is smoking a cigarette with a satisfied smile on its face and the egg is frowning and looking put out.  The egg mutters to no one in particular, "I guess we answered that question."
 ~Author Unknown

After I wrote my last blog on the beginning of my sexual history, it really got me thinking about my entire history. . . the truth is it began before I can remember - it does for all of us.  My first vivid memory was very young - the neighbor boy kissed my cheek during a game of hide and seek. :)

As a mother, I have delt with so many uncomfortable sexual situations from questions about body parts to masturbation to "where do babies come from" and periods to "Why does so and so have 3 mommies". . . but today was a first for me - the question of boy/girl sleepovers (under age 10).  I am a complete realist and I know that even kids who are just friends play the "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" game, if not more.  However, realism doesn't equate to easy decision making!  My question is, does it really matter what gender sleepovers are?  Does sexual experimentation take place regardless? Which came first, experimentation with friends or lovers?  

Think about your first sexual experience (whatever that means to you. . . ), try to remember how you felt, what you were thinking, how you felt afterward . . . What was the impact of this experience on your long term sexuality?

These questions seem simple but in truth it is someone akin to the old adage about the chicken and the egg. . . Which came first?  It is inevitably impossible to know for certain the impact of any experience on one's perception of sex and sexuality . . . the answer to the question is perpetually evasive.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

I’ve come a long way to get here. . . Part One: Learning to Lust

It has taken me a couple of days to get up the nerve to write a personal story.  Today is the day I begin opening up and challenge myself to be comfortable in my own sexuality.  However uncomfortable or scary this may be for me, I find it to be unavoidable.  I am seeking a PhD. In human sexuality – I’d fucking better be ecstatic about who I am; I’d better be able to give advice that I have taken; I’d better not be a hypocrite.  So, thus begins my public journey through my sexual past. . . 

Throughout my years growing up I remember learning about sexuality from my peers, family, school (Christian), and church.  By the time I was 12 I remember feeling guilty for masturbating . . . not that it stopped me, I just felt bad for doing it.  I had committed myself to a pledge of purity – which I fully believed was the best way to approach my future marriage and sex life.  For the next few years my hairbrush, pillow, and I continued our ménage trios until I had my first real boyfriend.  It was here, at 15 that I first learned about something I hadn’t counted on – desire.  There was something so natural and primal about passionately kissing and groping that I found myself beginning to question what I had been taught about sex, love, and STD’s.  After months of lust, I succumbed and stumbled my way into womanhood. :)  I still have to stop and giggle at how ridiculously awkward virgin sex is . . . I must say, not exactly the wedding night sex I had always dreamed about.  I loved sex.  It was fantastic and fun, exhilarating and calming, carnal and intimate but more than anything, it felt natural.  This feeling shocked me.  After learning what I thought was “all about” sex, it had never even occurred to me that premarital sex could feel natural.  

Several years go by as I deliberate the topic of my sexuality.  I had several more boyfriends and dozens of flirtations but stuck fast by the side of my trusty hairbrush.  It was at this crossroad that I met the man who would one day be my husband.  We had tons of crazy, wild, backseat sex.  Sparks flew and nothing could stop them . . . well, that is after I accidentally started dating him.  We had dated and broken up but I felt so sorry for the guy that I continued to hang out with him.  As we all know, mixing teenage hormones with love triangles is always a recipe for sex.  After his best friend and I went out and I was propositioned for oral sex (which of course, the good girl I was, I turned down), the intensity of his pursuit of me increased.  We had a fantastic sex life . . . I was utterly content to be vanilla and had no idea there were any other options available.  After several months of sex I found myself just out of high school and knocked up.  After a whirlwind 9 months I was a mother and a wife . . . and just 18.  As I matured into adulthood and became more sexually experienced (and birthed 2 more children), I began to learn and fantasize about more intense things.  I wanted to have sex with a girl.  I wanted to watch my husband have sex with someone else.  I wanted to try out different men.  I wanted to know what it felt like to be gang banged by black men or tied up and assaulted by a dominatrix.   I was ready to explore and curious.  Eventually (and with ridiculous amounts of drama), my husband brought a girl home from work.  I don’t think I have drunk so much any other day in my life!  I was so nervous and excited and angry and turned on . . . ok, ok, I was just really confused!  Then, she kissed me.  It was almost like the world stopped spinning for a few moments.  She was so soft.  She smelled perfect.  It seemed to me as if a whole new world of sexual possibilities had been unearthed and I couldn’t wait to explore them.  We spent only a couple of months together, sneaking away to fuck, both too embarrassed to admit to our bisexuality in real life but too passionate for each other to stay apart.  She moved suddenly.  Our goodbye was absurdly emotional and difficult but filled with some of the most amazing sex I have ever experienced.  I still feel a twinge of sadness and a lump in my throat when I talk about her.  She changed me forever but I will never be able to tell her that.  Because of her I am open to new experiences and I began learning to give fantasies a try, even when they make me anxious.  It was at this juncture that everything in my life began to change, or I felt – unravel.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

The Words We Use

Today has been a sensationally hectic, interesting, emotional day.  I’m exhausted and ready for some time with Carl but I couldn’t wait to stop by and discuss a bit from the day.  I have a fantastic question to pose for you . . . I’ll be back tomorrow when my brain isn’t so exhausted to write up my opinion.  

Human sexuality is such an intricate topic that ranges from clear cut sciences (like biology and archeology) to topics much more ambiguous and obscure (like the analysis of the Old Testament story of Onan), but I suppose that is exactly why I find it to be such an utterly fascinating subject.  I suppose my topic today is somewhat vague in nature and completely subject to personal opinion and interpretation as well . . . that said, before I truly delve in, I will make this one time disclaimer – I use offensive, adult language in this blog and will occasionally post photos that could be considered inappropriate or pornographic.

So, let’s take a second to consider the words that we use in relation to sex and our bodies. . . penis, peter, wiener, dick, cock, third leg, beaver basher, dork, dong, vagina, kitty, beaver, cunt, twat, pussy, snach, taco, fuck, screw, bang, boink, smash, sex, making love, getting off, jacking off, choking the chicken . . . Now comes the real kicker, are these words positive or negative?  Do they sound enticing and provocative?  No, they don’t.  They sound nasty, mean and abusive.  I have to stop here to say that I get wet just typing those three words next to each other, “nasty, mean, and abusive,” so I am well aware that sounding that way can be a good thing.  However, in consideration of sexuality as a whole it seems to me that the question does need asking. . . 

Why is it that in all cultures and languages the worst, most offensive words have to do with sex?