A lot has happened in the nearly two months since my last post here, and it has continued to be true that I don't currently feel the need for this blog as a space for processing. If I ever find that this is changing, or if I feel like I need to record something for posterity, I may occasionally return. However, I've dramatically realigned and focused my intentions for this year--one of which is spending less time in front of a computer--and have started a pen-and-paper journal to document my progress. That little venture takes up most of the time I usually allot to writing.
Another thing that is taking up a fair amount of my time is a new (exuberantly poly, not-quite-"primary" but steady, somewhat D/s) relationship with a man we'll call Navid. We're currently falling in love, and it's a beautiful thing. He's not my usual type physically--he's somewhat effeminate--but I had no problem coming around to a fucking woah major attraction to him. Furthermore, he can challenge me intellectually, make me laugh, show me affection, communicate openly, AND tie me up and blindfold me. We're also master co-instigators, not only because his mind is precisely as dirty as mine, but because we both seem to amplify our respective talents for manifesting our desires. What more could a girl ask for in a main squeeze?
Silas, who also has a beautiful and talented new woman in his life, called us "our town's newest power couple" as we were leaving the hot tub last night. It means something coming from him, and furthermore, I think he's on to something. Everyone seems quite happy about us getting together--most especially us.
Many of the same characters are still around, and I still love them all. I see Silas, Dan, Lachlan, Peter, Arthur, Ezra, and others frequently. Occasionally someone fucks someone, but above all, we're all great friends. Val, Harvey and I are still getting along terrifically. My friendship with Val keeps finding new depths. There even appears to be a remarkable chance of that connection crossing sexual boundaries in a new and different way at some point. Apparently, prolonged exposure to Carnita makes people horny.
My apprenticeship with Gwen has become much more of a time and energy commitment. With that evolution comes both a terrific sense of purpose and some complicated burdens that go along with working with people who have borderline personalities. Gwen isn't exactly stable, but she's a brilliant artist, so I'm going to stick with this for as long as I can tolerate her unpredictable mood swings and fits.
That, reader, is the current status update in dramatically condensed form. Take care of yourselves, my lovelies. Love each other, and get fucked well. See you around!
Monday, February 6, 2012
Saturday, December 17, 2011
In Which Our Protagonist Suffers from Body Shame Blues
Reader, I am angry. I am trying to keep the frequency vibrating at anger, anyway, lest I sink back into the sad, self-pitying, disempowered place in which I've spent most of this day. I am making plans to go out and get 'em done, have an angry, super-hot makeout with pretty much the first hottie that shows up and is down.
The nasty mood started last night when I was looking at some super sex-pozzie porn on that great blog I posted earlier. I know, sad that imagery of great sex would have such an ill effect, right? Sometimes when you're really far down in the dumps, I guess other people's happiness and enjoyment can be a negative trigger. I hate that. Nevertheless, I found myself feeling jealous and resentful of all these beautiful queers getting sexy and enjoying each other because I feel damaged. If I could erase the shit that Peter said to me three weeks ago, I would do it without even pausing to consider.
I realize that right now as I type this, I am experiencing the same problem that has kept me from writing in this blog much these days: I don't feel like I need it in the same way anymore as a space to process what I'm going through. I have friends for that. I'm getting a little bored of trying to keep a journal-type thing of all of my exploits, especially since my status seems to change so very often, and in order to keep up, I've had to sacrifice a lot of depth. So I'm just going to skip the summary for now and talk about what I feel like talking about.
So now I am in this wild mood. I am going to hook up with someone or other tonight. I know, dangerous! But hey, whoever it is won't even be aware of ever having a choice in the matter. People who might be my victims tonight are: Silas, JAMES (!!!), Dan (but probably not, he seems to be in the polyfidelitous way right now), Colin...or any number of other hotties I might run into this evening.
I need to do this to get my mojo back. I am tired of waiting around for my issues to get "dealt with" in some ponderous way when it seems like I really could just put a big fat poultice on the wound and make it feel better if I get someone's hands and lips all over me. Like, tonight.
First stop after masturbating, I think, is to go grab Colin, yank him outside of the club where he plans to be hanging out tonight, drag him into the alley, and climb all. Over. Him. He's down, too. I think that will be a fantastic way to kick things off.
After that, I'm going to meet up with Dan and his lovely lady friend for a couple of drinks, go to a fetish-themed Christmas party with the carnies, and find someone to make out with there. Later, James might show up, and then...oh holy hell...
(Yes, he started talking to me again. We'll see where that goes...)
In other news, Harvey is having great sex with a lovely new woman, and Val has been making out with a married poly guy. She has a one-on-one meetup with his wife planned for sometime next week. La la la la la....
The nasty mood started last night when I was looking at some super sex-pozzie porn on that great blog I posted earlier. I know, sad that imagery of great sex would have such an ill effect, right? Sometimes when you're really far down in the dumps, I guess other people's happiness and enjoyment can be a negative trigger. I hate that. Nevertheless, I found myself feeling jealous and resentful of all these beautiful queers getting sexy and enjoying each other because I feel damaged. If I could erase the shit that Peter said to me three weeks ago, I would do it without even pausing to consider.
I realize that right now as I type this, I am experiencing the same problem that has kept me from writing in this blog much these days: I don't feel like I need it in the same way anymore as a space to process what I'm going through. I have friends for that. I'm getting a little bored of trying to keep a journal-type thing of all of my exploits, especially since my status seems to change so very often, and in order to keep up, I've had to sacrifice a lot of depth. So I'm just going to skip the summary for now and talk about what I feel like talking about.
So now I am in this wild mood. I am going to hook up with someone or other tonight. I know, dangerous! But hey, whoever it is won't even be aware of ever having a choice in the matter. People who might be my victims tonight are: Silas, JAMES (!!!), Dan (but probably not, he seems to be in the polyfidelitous way right now), Colin...or any number of other hotties I might run into this evening.
I need to do this to get my mojo back. I am tired of waiting around for my issues to get "dealt with" in some ponderous way when it seems like I really could just put a big fat poultice on the wound and make it feel better if I get someone's hands and lips all over me. Like, tonight.
First stop after masturbating, I think, is to go grab Colin, yank him outside of the club where he plans to be hanging out tonight, drag him into the alley, and climb all. Over. Him. He's down, too. I think that will be a fantastic way to kick things off.
After that, I'm going to meet up with Dan and his lovely lady friend for a couple of drinks, go to a fetish-themed Christmas party with the carnies, and find someone to make out with there. Later, James might show up, and then...oh holy hell...
(Yes, he started talking to me again. We'll see where that goes...)
In other news, Harvey is having great sex with a lovely new woman, and Val has been making out with a married poly guy. She has a one-on-one meetup with his wife planned for sometime next week. La la la la la....
Friday, December 16, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
In Which Arthur Sleeps Over
...And we cuddled and kissed a little, but not much more. It was sweet, I liked it, and I got very wet...which is some kind of evidence of something to me! It's all so new and exciting. I'm going to take it very slow and make sure I'm feeling everything that I do before I do it. I'm not going to pressure it or let anyone else do so. But the point is that I like Arthur and Ezra both, and I'm apparently more capable than I thought I was of honest, red-blooded physical attraction towards them. Date #2 with Ezra tomorrow. I'll let you know how it went.
That is all.
That is all.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
In Which Accounts are Closed and Opened
As with any time I fail to post here for long stretches of time, lots and lots of things have happened. I've experienced much weather of the heart, a bit of sexy play, and a fair measure of rapid change, as seems to be the trend with me these days. Not that I am denying responsibility for it all. In fact, I would rather spend more time putting things into perspective and trying to establish some analysis of these patterns than giving play-by-play accounts of my adventures. Nevertheless, I'll start with a basic accounting of what's going on with the loose threads from my last few posts.
First of all, I'm no longer seeing Silas. After a very intermittent few weeks of dating, I got annoyed with his inconsistency and unavailability. The last contact we had was when I sent him an extremely direct e-mail message outlining the possible relationship models I would consider with him, including, perhaps, an FWB-type thing. I pointed out the fact that even though I like and appreciate him, the only thing we really have in common is sex. My point was to try to put some pressure on him to clarify the terms of whatever we're doing here--perhaps a dick move, or just an ineffective and silly one?--but like most men I've encountered in the last few years, he's responding in typical player fashion: not responding at all. I'm not sure what his personal reaction was, but he never replied, and I feel pretty clear that it's over. It would have been nice to keep playing with him because he's such a dreamily dominant sexer, but it's not worth the damage to my self-esteem that I sustain whenever I'm involved with people who have a tendency to ignore or avoid me.
Second, Peter and I are no longer sexually involved, at least for now. It would take forever to tell this story properly, but suffice it to say that we still talk several times a week, and we still share an emotional intimacy and connection, but I'm not sure if I'll ever feel secure enough to be naked in front of him again. What began as a moment of honesty hit a huge, painful trigger for me. It's a shame that we won't be continuing our gender fuckery, but cutting off that aspect of the relationship is better than having to listen to the nasty voice in my head accuse me of being sexually inadequate. (Fuck that!)
Another general thing that is going on is that for the first time in my life and to my utter surprise, for the last few months I have been finding myself feeling increasingly erotically interested in transgendered men. We have a relatively vibrant trans community here in my town, and social circumstances have led me to become friends with several of them and acquaintances with several others. I have the inside line on all the queer parties and events now, too, and I've been gravitating to that circle of folks more and more often. So, over time, I started catching myself staring at an ass, giggling with uncommon warmth at some cute gesture, or admiring the taut curve of a shoulder or the bulge of a sinewy tricep.
When this started, any time I realized what I was thinking--sexy, sweet, and intimate things--I would step back from the feeling and remind myself that although these boys' masculine embodiment may be incredibly believable, they still have vaginas. And Carnita ain't into vaginas, right, reader?
The jury is still out on that one, but I'll tell you the facts. My poly, trans, and absolutely adorable friend Arthur has become a person I really enjoy being around. We tend to get together and process things that are going on in our lives, and we always seem to have valuable insights to offer one another. A couple of weeks ago, when he was over at my house with a couple of friends, I detected the slightest hint of flirtation passing between us. I was certain I wasn't imagining it when we did that cute thing where our legs accidentally touch and then neither of us move them...for a really long time...
By the next week, I was making out with him next to my car outside his house. That only happened once, and we agreed to make sure it didn't create awkwardness. I haven't seen him much since then. He's a total cutie, but the attraction is by no means earth-shattering. It's mostly just a sweet crush that doesn't feel all that sexual.
The thing that feels more significant than that started in a coffee shop where I hang out several days a week to write or do work. Across the room, a person of perfectly androgynous gender presentation whom I had never seen before sat down at a corner table. I found myself having extreme difficulty averting my eyes. I felt downright creepy in my fascination with this person. He was forgiving, and only looked up awkwardly a couple of times with this sheepish smile.
Reader, I felt all the cheesy love-at-first-sight shit that the poets talk about: my face flushed violently with blood and heat, my heart sped up, and I felt as if I was finally beholding the most beautiful, interesting, and entirely unique creature in all the world. Every flicker of his eyebrow or movement of his nostrils seemed dramatic to me. His teeth pressing into his bottom lip in a moment of concentration caused me to forget to breathe. His index finger tracing the outline of his ear made me bitterly jealous of his hand. I'm telling you, it was the real deal, the high romance, the heart-stopping rush. (Not that I necessarily privilege that sort of feeling over the ones that take time to grow; it's just how it happens sometimes.) This sort of thing typically happens to me once every few months to a year, but this is only the second time ever that the object of my rapt fixation has been someone who falls completely outside of traditional masculine sex ideals. It may be one of two or three times when I've ever gotten to interact with the person again at a later date, too.
Anyway, I saw Arthur and my other friend Heidi a couple of days later, and I told them about my dizzying experience. I described a beautiful trans man with a shock of white hair, bright, laughing green eyes, a bit of sparse facial hair, and shapely, unbound breasts. They looked at each other meaningfully, grinned, and said simultaneously, "Ezra." Arthur added, "Yes, he is gorgeous. He's a pretty close friend of mine." I asked a few questions about him, gushed a bit more, and then dropped the matter. I hadn't actually considered that anything could come of it until Heidi sent me a text that said something like, "Oh, by the way, I ran into Ezra today and I told him that I have a friend who thinks he's really hot. He said you should Facebook him."
A couple of days later, after a little bit of Facebook exchange, we ended up at the same dance party at an awesome local queer club. When we met, it took me a few minutes to figure out what to do with my hands, what to talk about, what to look at besides his enormous green eyes. We talked about religion and sex-positivity and all sorts of other things. I met his most significant partner Kori (totally positive feelings all around, by the way), we all chatted a lot and danced together, and I left with Ezra's phone number. The next afternoon, we had coffee and continued our conversation. We were having such a nice time that we got dinner together, and then I dropped him back off at his car. We didn't kiss, but I think we both wanted to. I don't want to overblow the potential here, but it felt like a significant date. I felt the first twinge of an actual heart connection with him, that different level of connection that feels transparent--not muddled or confused--and which engages my deepest curiosity about what another person's soul is like. I get this feeling for friends fairly often. On a rare and lovely occasion, I find it in a lover. I can't be sure about anything yet, including the authenticity of my attraction to him, but it certainly doesn't feel fake. We have another date in a couple of days, and I am excited to see what happens. I am open to all the possibilities.
Which brings me, finally, back to the most important objective I had in sitting down to write today: to attempt to articulate a few realizations that are trying to break through the subconscious film that has been keeping them down and mute. It's sure to be awkward for me to write about because these issues have been challenging me to my core, triggering shame and guilt and all sorts of other barely tolerable feelings. I know that I need to face this shit, though. I need to feel it all in order to grow. If I don't change how I approach relationships, I'm only going to get the same results over and over and over. I notice, too, that the negative patterns established by the Thomases and Silases in my life color my perception and memory of other situations that are completely unlike these truly unpleasant, insecurity-triggering ones.
The issues that I've been feeling the need to scrutinize are bringing up a lot of questions. I'll try not to censor anything that comes up, and I feel sure that a pattern will start to emerge here...
------------------------
Why do I keep attracting/becoming attracted to people who tend to ignore me, brush me off, or dismiss me as a serious contender for their lasting affections? Is it because I have low expectations/low self-esteem and they can tell I'll let them get away with it? Is it because I am terrible at playing the dating game, in which men give chase and women resist? (I tend to be pretty forward, and I'm usually the aggressor...) Is it because I get too familiar with potential partners too soon, before I can really have a chance to test out our dynamic?
My hormones are raging right now, I want sex constantly, and I haven't been all that careful about reeling that in for the higher purpose of finding higher-quality love relationships. The drive for sex has felt so immediate and urgent that more than once I have looked right at the facts--i.e. that this person is incapable of being the partner I want, or furthermore, perhaps the most important issue of all, that there is no way for me to know these things on a second date--and then jumped into bed with him anyway. I realize that it probably seems so obvious to you, Reader.
-------------------
A CONVERSATION WITH MYSELF.
The self-talk voice that has been dominating my inner monologue says things like this:
Carnita, you are a complete pussy when it comes to delaying gratification with these skeezy dudes, and I think I know why, too. It's because you don't believe that you even deserve to be truly known, or that there is no way you can attract the hotties you want unless you aggressively offer up your body to them, and fast. You think you're going to lose their attention if you don't bed them ASAP, since there are lots and lots of hot, slutty girls in this town and far fewer hot, slutty guys. You would like to believe that you're being sex-positive, and maybe sometimes it is like that, but men are still conditioned like men and very few of them value a connection with a woman that comes too easily. I know that it frustrates you that this is true because you have so much love to offer everyone, and it comes very easily to you, and sex feels like one among many completely natural ways to get to know a person. You're trusting and open, and that's great and all, but you're taking it to the point of recklessness. Look at your heart; it's all frayed and chewed-up. You're starting to get suspicious and cynical. That gorgeous, confident, untroubled smile you used to flash at strangers just to brighten their day has gotten duller. You've lost your swag.
You're remembering things all wrong lately, too. Remember that Lachlan and Peter never treated you badly. They just disappointed you, and only because they didn't feel a certain way, not because they were cruel or neglectful. They were honest with you, and they treated you with respect and consideration. The situations with Silas and Thomas (and maybe to some extent Caleb) have blurred your memory of all that. The stories of these relationships keep getting tangled in your head, and you keep generalizing about situations that aren't actually similar at all.
You have got to learn the difference between the sort of people who are willing and capable of meeting your needs/expectations and the sort of people who aren't! For one thing, it is not fair to go around expecting people you barely know to behave according to some code of yours, any more than it is fair to yourself to keep getting entangled with all these people who are totally unqualified to satisfy you.
Plus, when you get with these people, you start making yourself seem desperate. You get mad that they aren't responding to you, that although they were willing to fuck you once or twice, it did not follow that your personality was so fucking brilliant that it hooked them within hours of meeting you. In other words, sleeping with them didn't suddenly create intimacy! Go figure!
Then comes the really silly part of the whole script, where you send that routine note to the person who has been ignoring you for weeks--a note intended to set the person straight, balance the power dynamic, or whatever--and you put all this intention into saying just the right thing, knowing very well that you're just looking for whatever will make the person react somehow...and then, when they don't respond or react in any way, you feel even less resolution about the situation than you would have if you hadn't said anything at all. So now there are a bunch of idiots out there who probably think, perhaps somewhat justifiably, that you're some kind of volatile, borderline personality. If you're not careful, you're going to end up with a reputation for being the worst kind of crazy. Although it really is only these types of situations that bring the irrational, angry, defensive, self-righteous beast out of you--that is, when you feel disempowered and voiceless in a relationship--but these people don't know that. Effectively, you allow these situations to degrade your character and reduce you to an animal that's just reacting, reacting, reacting. That's bullshit, if you ask me. You're really going to let these people to whom you have no real attachments, and who have never given you any indication that they are worth your time, the power to turn you into a bitter, judgmental harpy?
I realize that it's almost always the REALLY REALLY HOT ones that end up in these situations with you. The intensity of your physical attraction to them clouds your judgment and makes you much more likely to fall into bed with them. You're more likely to see them favorably You're as weak as a man in this regard, bless your heart.
One possible approach is to conclude that you should stay away from anyone who ever touches that particular trigger--anyone who, within the first few weeks, EVER causes you to feel like you need to "play it cool," that your presence is less than totally wanted, or that you have no status in relation to them. Dammit, they're so attractive to you, though! They tend to be really charismatic and popular. They're true leaders, trendsetters, self-starters! And if you can snag a man who has these characteristics of greatness, well, why shouldn't you seize the opportunity? After all, you love being associated with the Alphas, the centers of attention. They're controversial, their lives are exciting, and people look at you differently when you appear beside them. It makes you feel important and somehow more 'correct' in some way, because clearly you must be doing something right if you can score this status symbol as your lover, right?
Well, silly girl, I have a few ideas why you might want to consider reconditioning this pattern in your tastes. First of all, remember Damon? He was one of these dudes, too. Not the inattentive kind, but a larger-than-life, manipulative sort...and you ignored all the warning signs because you were so enamored with the idea of being the girlfriend of such a 'badass,' a guy everyone has a strong opinion about, a guy who so naturally thrust himself into the spotlight anywhere he went. And how well did that work out for you, hmm? He turned out to be a deeply troubled pathological liar and a totally borderline prick who had never stopped showing the signs of being very interested in possessing and controlling you.
You may be able to spot Damon's type of personality now, but then, recently, here came Silas. He's totally different from Damon, sure; he's not the least bit sociopathic, he's doesn't read people like books, and he's not even all that smart. He didn't even seem all that threatening! But look what happened: you fell in bed with him, he rocked your world in that arena--like WOAH, rocked it, yes--and you immediately started contemplating the possibility of conforming your preferred relationship parameters to his! LIKE A DUMBASS! Then, AFTER going through that whole process, you discovered that he is a perpetual teenager with the emotional maturity to match, and then you felt ashamed for failing to notice it before. But then it was like you had to justify sleeping with someone so unequal to yourself by somehow getting him into a relationship. And then, when you fail at this task--because as dense as he may be, Silas is super sexy, he's a performer, and he is surrounded by beautiful, sexually adventurous women all the time--you freak out and blame him instead of yourself!
This shit is ludicrous, dude. I've run out of time now, but we'll be in touch in the very near future, I'm sure.
Love,
Your Smarter Self
First of all, I'm no longer seeing Silas. After a very intermittent few weeks of dating, I got annoyed with his inconsistency and unavailability. The last contact we had was when I sent him an extremely direct e-mail message outlining the possible relationship models I would consider with him, including, perhaps, an FWB-type thing. I pointed out the fact that even though I like and appreciate him, the only thing we really have in common is sex. My point was to try to put some pressure on him to clarify the terms of whatever we're doing here--perhaps a dick move, or just an ineffective and silly one?--but like most men I've encountered in the last few years, he's responding in typical player fashion: not responding at all. I'm not sure what his personal reaction was, but he never replied, and I feel pretty clear that it's over. It would have been nice to keep playing with him because he's such a dreamily dominant sexer, but it's not worth the damage to my self-esteem that I sustain whenever I'm involved with people who have a tendency to ignore or avoid me.
Second, Peter and I are no longer sexually involved, at least for now. It would take forever to tell this story properly, but suffice it to say that we still talk several times a week, and we still share an emotional intimacy and connection, but I'm not sure if I'll ever feel secure enough to be naked in front of him again. What began as a moment of honesty hit a huge, painful trigger for me. It's a shame that we won't be continuing our gender fuckery, but cutting off that aspect of the relationship is better than having to listen to the nasty voice in my head accuse me of being sexually inadequate. (Fuck that!)
Another general thing that is going on is that for the first time in my life and to my utter surprise, for the last few months I have been finding myself feeling increasingly erotically interested in transgendered men. We have a relatively vibrant trans community here in my town, and social circumstances have led me to become friends with several of them and acquaintances with several others. I have the inside line on all the queer parties and events now, too, and I've been gravitating to that circle of folks more and more often. So, over time, I started catching myself staring at an ass, giggling with uncommon warmth at some cute gesture, or admiring the taut curve of a shoulder or the bulge of a sinewy tricep.
When this started, any time I realized what I was thinking--sexy, sweet, and intimate things--I would step back from the feeling and remind myself that although these boys' masculine embodiment may be incredibly believable, they still have vaginas. And Carnita ain't into vaginas, right, reader?
The jury is still out on that one, but I'll tell you the facts. My poly, trans, and absolutely adorable friend Arthur has become a person I really enjoy being around. We tend to get together and process things that are going on in our lives, and we always seem to have valuable insights to offer one another. A couple of weeks ago, when he was over at my house with a couple of friends, I detected the slightest hint of flirtation passing between us. I was certain I wasn't imagining it when we did that cute thing where our legs accidentally touch and then neither of us move them...for a really long time...
By the next week, I was making out with him next to my car outside his house. That only happened once, and we agreed to make sure it didn't create awkwardness. I haven't seen him much since then. He's a total cutie, but the attraction is by no means earth-shattering. It's mostly just a sweet crush that doesn't feel all that sexual.
The thing that feels more significant than that started in a coffee shop where I hang out several days a week to write or do work. Across the room, a person of perfectly androgynous gender presentation whom I had never seen before sat down at a corner table. I found myself having extreme difficulty averting my eyes. I felt downright creepy in my fascination with this person. He was forgiving, and only looked up awkwardly a couple of times with this sheepish smile.
Reader, I felt all the cheesy love-at-first-sight shit that the poets talk about: my face flushed violently with blood and heat, my heart sped up, and I felt as if I was finally beholding the most beautiful, interesting, and entirely unique creature in all the world. Every flicker of his eyebrow or movement of his nostrils seemed dramatic to me. His teeth pressing into his bottom lip in a moment of concentration caused me to forget to breathe. His index finger tracing the outline of his ear made me bitterly jealous of his hand. I'm telling you, it was the real deal, the high romance, the heart-stopping rush. (Not that I necessarily privilege that sort of feeling over the ones that take time to grow; it's just how it happens sometimes.) This sort of thing typically happens to me once every few months to a year, but this is only the second time ever that the object of my rapt fixation has been someone who falls completely outside of traditional masculine sex ideals. It may be one of two or three times when I've ever gotten to interact with the person again at a later date, too.
Anyway, I saw Arthur and my other friend Heidi a couple of days later, and I told them about my dizzying experience. I described a beautiful trans man with a shock of white hair, bright, laughing green eyes, a bit of sparse facial hair, and shapely, unbound breasts. They looked at each other meaningfully, grinned, and said simultaneously, "Ezra." Arthur added, "Yes, he is gorgeous. He's a pretty close friend of mine." I asked a few questions about him, gushed a bit more, and then dropped the matter. I hadn't actually considered that anything could come of it until Heidi sent me a text that said something like, "Oh, by the way, I ran into Ezra today and I told him that I have a friend who thinks he's really hot. He said you should Facebook him."
A couple of days later, after a little bit of Facebook exchange, we ended up at the same dance party at an awesome local queer club. When we met, it took me a few minutes to figure out what to do with my hands, what to talk about, what to look at besides his enormous green eyes. We talked about religion and sex-positivity and all sorts of other things. I met his most significant partner Kori (totally positive feelings all around, by the way), we all chatted a lot and danced together, and I left with Ezra's phone number. The next afternoon, we had coffee and continued our conversation. We were having such a nice time that we got dinner together, and then I dropped him back off at his car. We didn't kiss, but I think we both wanted to. I don't want to overblow the potential here, but it felt like a significant date. I felt the first twinge of an actual heart connection with him, that different level of connection that feels transparent--not muddled or confused--and which engages my deepest curiosity about what another person's soul is like. I get this feeling for friends fairly often. On a rare and lovely occasion, I find it in a lover. I can't be sure about anything yet, including the authenticity of my attraction to him, but it certainly doesn't feel fake. We have another date in a couple of days, and I am excited to see what happens. I am open to all the possibilities.
Which brings me, finally, back to the most important objective I had in sitting down to write today: to attempt to articulate a few realizations that are trying to break through the subconscious film that has been keeping them down and mute. It's sure to be awkward for me to write about because these issues have been challenging me to my core, triggering shame and guilt and all sorts of other barely tolerable feelings. I know that I need to face this shit, though. I need to feel it all in order to grow. If I don't change how I approach relationships, I'm only going to get the same results over and over and over. I notice, too, that the negative patterns established by the Thomases and Silases in my life color my perception and memory of other situations that are completely unlike these truly unpleasant, insecurity-triggering ones.
The issues that I've been feeling the need to scrutinize are bringing up a lot of questions. I'll try not to censor anything that comes up, and I feel sure that a pattern will start to emerge here...
------------------------
Why do I keep attracting/becoming attracted to people who tend to ignore me, brush me off, or dismiss me as a serious contender for their lasting affections? Is it because I have low expectations/low self-esteem and they can tell I'll let them get away with it? Is it because I am terrible at playing the dating game, in which men give chase and women resist? (I tend to be pretty forward, and I'm usually the aggressor...) Is it because I get too familiar with potential partners too soon, before I can really have a chance to test out our dynamic?
My hormones are raging right now, I want sex constantly, and I haven't been all that careful about reeling that in for the higher purpose of finding higher-quality love relationships. The drive for sex has felt so immediate and urgent that more than once I have looked right at the facts--i.e. that this person is incapable of being the partner I want, or furthermore, perhaps the most important issue of all, that there is no way for me to know these things on a second date--and then jumped into bed with him anyway. I realize that it probably seems so obvious to you, Reader.
-------------------
A CONVERSATION WITH MYSELF.
The self-talk voice that has been dominating my inner monologue says things like this:
Carnita, you are a complete pussy when it comes to delaying gratification with these skeezy dudes, and I think I know why, too. It's because you don't believe that you even deserve to be truly known, or that there is no way you can attract the hotties you want unless you aggressively offer up your body to them, and fast. You think you're going to lose their attention if you don't bed them ASAP, since there are lots and lots of hot, slutty girls in this town and far fewer hot, slutty guys. You would like to believe that you're being sex-positive, and maybe sometimes it is like that, but men are still conditioned like men and very few of them value a connection with a woman that comes too easily. I know that it frustrates you that this is true because you have so much love to offer everyone, and it comes very easily to you, and sex feels like one among many completely natural ways to get to know a person. You're trusting and open, and that's great and all, but you're taking it to the point of recklessness. Look at your heart; it's all frayed and chewed-up. You're starting to get suspicious and cynical. That gorgeous, confident, untroubled smile you used to flash at strangers just to brighten their day has gotten duller. You've lost your swag.
You're remembering things all wrong lately, too. Remember that Lachlan and Peter never treated you badly. They just disappointed you, and only because they didn't feel a certain way, not because they were cruel or neglectful. They were honest with you, and they treated you with respect and consideration. The situations with Silas and Thomas (and maybe to some extent Caleb) have blurred your memory of all that. The stories of these relationships keep getting tangled in your head, and you keep generalizing about situations that aren't actually similar at all.
You have got to learn the difference between the sort of people who are willing and capable of meeting your needs/expectations and the sort of people who aren't! For one thing, it is not fair to go around expecting people you barely know to behave according to some code of yours, any more than it is fair to yourself to keep getting entangled with all these people who are totally unqualified to satisfy you.
Plus, when you get with these people, you start making yourself seem desperate. You get mad that they aren't responding to you, that although they were willing to fuck you once or twice, it did not follow that your personality was so fucking brilliant that it hooked them within hours of meeting you. In other words, sleeping with them didn't suddenly create intimacy! Go figure!
Then comes the really silly part of the whole script, where you send that routine note to the person who has been ignoring you for weeks--a note intended to set the person straight, balance the power dynamic, or whatever--and you put all this intention into saying just the right thing, knowing very well that you're just looking for whatever will make the person react somehow...and then, when they don't respond or react in any way, you feel even less resolution about the situation than you would have if you hadn't said anything at all. So now there are a bunch of idiots out there who probably think, perhaps somewhat justifiably, that you're some kind of volatile, borderline personality. If you're not careful, you're going to end up with a reputation for being the worst kind of crazy. Although it really is only these types of situations that bring the irrational, angry, defensive, self-righteous beast out of you--that is, when you feel disempowered and voiceless in a relationship--but these people don't know that. Effectively, you allow these situations to degrade your character and reduce you to an animal that's just reacting, reacting, reacting. That's bullshit, if you ask me. You're really going to let these people to whom you have no real attachments, and who have never given you any indication that they are worth your time, the power to turn you into a bitter, judgmental harpy?
I realize that it's almost always the REALLY REALLY HOT ones that end up in these situations with you. The intensity of your physical attraction to them clouds your judgment and makes you much more likely to fall into bed with them. You're more likely to see them favorably You're as weak as a man in this regard, bless your heart.
One possible approach is to conclude that you should stay away from anyone who ever touches that particular trigger--anyone who, within the first few weeks, EVER causes you to feel like you need to "play it cool," that your presence is less than totally wanted, or that you have no status in relation to them. Dammit, they're so attractive to you, though! They tend to be really charismatic and popular. They're true leaders, trendsetters, self-starters! And if you can snag a man who has these characteristics of greatness, well, why shouldn't you seize the opportunity? After all, you love being associated with the Alphas, the centers of attention. They're controversial, their lives are exciting, and people look at you differently when you appear beside them. It makes you feel important and somehow more 'correct' in some way, because clearly you must be doing something right if you can score this status symbol as your lover, right?
Well, silly girl, I have a few ideas why you might want to consider reconditioning this pattern in your tastes. First of all, remember Damon? He was one of these dudes, too. Not the inattentive kind, but a larger-than-life, manipulative sort...and you ignored all the warning signs because you were so enamored with the idea of being the girlfriend of such a 'badass,' a guy everyone has a strong opinion about, a guy who so naturally thrust himself into the spotlight anywhere he went. And how well did that work out for you, hmm? He turned out to be a deeply troubled pathological liar and a totally borderline prick who had never stopped showing the signs of being very interested in possessing and controlling you.
You may be able to spot Damon's type of personality now, but then, recently, here came Silas. He's totally different from Damon, sure; he's not the least bit sociopathic, he's doesn't read people like books, and he's not even all that smart. He didn't even seem all that threatening! But look what happened: you fell in bed with him, he rocked your world in that arena--like WOAH, rocked it, yes--and you immediately started contemplating the possibility of conforming your preferred relationship parameters to his! LIKE A DUMBASS! Then, AFTER going through that whole process, you discovered that he is a perpetual teenager with the emotional maturity to match, and then you felt ashamed for failing to notice it before. But then it was like you had to justify sleeping with someone so unequal to yourself by somehow getting him into a relationship. And then, when you fail at this task--because as dense as he may be, Silas is super sexy, he's a performer, and he is surrounded by beautiful, sexually adventurous women all the time--you freak out and blame him instead of yourself!
This shit is ludicrous, dude. I've run out of time now, but we'll be in touch in the very near future, I'm sure.
Love,
Your Smarter Self
Monday, November 14, 2011
In Which Carnita Has a Pre-Pants-Off Chat With Silas, Becomes Charlie to Take Peter/Patricia to Prom, and Plans to Start a Business With Val
What a weekend!
Thursday night, I met up with Silas at a local cocktail lounge that has amazing pork tacos. We took over the whole back room and somehow managed to keep it to ourselves for the duration of the time we needed to be having a "serious talk." Basically, I presented my situation to him in more detail--I'm not looking for fuck buddies, I do ultimately want commitment, and Peter is in my life to stay--and then asked for more information about what he's looking for in relationships right now.
His answers to my questions were disappointing, but not total deal-breakers, seeing as I still ended up waking up next to him on Friday morning. The basic gist was that he's ultimately looking for a monogamish partnership, but that for the moment he is fine with seeing how/where things go and seems to have as little interest as I have in slutting around. I was satisfied with his honesty, if not totally satisfied with his apparent preference for monogamy when he is in love.
Digression: *Sigh* I have a fair bit of trouble understanding this phrase, "in love," in anywhere near the same way that I used to. In fact, I get rather frustrated by how clear most people's divisions of these categories are. All the "I love him, but I'm not IN love with him" talk sounds so nonsensical to me that it has lost all meaning. In fact, last week I posted a comment on Reddit about this in response to a question asking what "I love you" means to the people of /r/polyamory:
I think those words are overrated as containers for meaning. I sometimes throw them around with impunity, especially with friends and family, but when I am having the sort of intense, high-value experience of appreciation and connection that needs expressing--the reason why most people use those three words--I am MUCH more careful about my language. I try to think, "What do I really mean?" ...and then say that more substantial thing instead of using the L-bomb.
Anyway, after this mildly disappointing talk, Silas and I went back to his house, hung out in the hot tub for a bit, and then drifted upstairs to his bedroom. Things got hot pretty quickly--I had already gotten very turned on by just the feel of his big, muscular arms wrapped around me under the warm water--and the sexing we did had at least one delightful unexpected result. You see, when we were talking dirty to each other about our fantasies earlier in the evening, he had said that he wanted to be some sort of first for me. (That's an alpha male for you.) Well, he got his wish.
No man before him has ever made me cum only by going down on me/using his hands. I am not sure how much I've talked about this issue here, but I have always been an almost inorgasmic sexer. My enjoyment of non-masturbatory sex has always had to lie in other places, and generally, as you may be able to tell, I have accomplished plenty of that enjoyment. It keeps getting better all the time, but the fact remains that I can count on one hand how many times I have had an orgasm with someone without the assistance of a machine. And even with these two or three partners, we were never able to repeat the spectacle again.
Somehow, though, Silas almost effortlessly found the magic formula to give me an orgasm, and he was able to repeat the trick within a few hours. He just kept trying things and sensing my responses until he found the thing--some combination of luscious, velvety clit-licking and thumping my G-spot pretty hard--and it took no time at all for us to be in a puddle of lady-ejaculate. (I myself, sexually empowered goddess that I am, had never even known exactly how to instruct someone to do this! Next time, I must study his witch-doctoring ways more closely...) He was pleased to discover that I am a squirter, of course. I don't think I've ever met a straight man who wasn't at least somewhat interested in this little factoid about me. But damn, it was hot!
We fell asleep watching Me and You and Everyone We Know, and he held me comfortably all night. There is something incredibly relaxing on a deep, instinctual level about falling asleep tucked into the curve of a big, powerful man's body. I woke refreshed, and we fucked like puppies again in the morning before I left for work. Mmmm. Yes, I am pleased with most of what's going on in this relationship so far. I think it's worth a shot, even if I may be risking another Lachlan situation. After all, my overriding feeling about Lachlan was and still is that the experience was worth the heartache.
Friday night was so entirely different from Thursday night that I was reeling for some time in the transition. First, I went to visit my friend Cory, a transgendered man who was willing to help me put together my outfit for the evening. You see, Peter and I had made plans to go to a prom-themed event put on by a local record shop in my town every year. This event is a very straight/heteronormative hipster sort of thing, but it is famously fun. We had decided to go in drag together because Peter has, as I mentioned, been playing with feminine gender presentation and sexual roles. So, I figured, who better to help me get suited up than a trans man? It worked out nicely because Cory had a matching vest and tie for me to borrow. We hung out for a couple of hours having a really intense conversation about our lives and relationships, and then I had to leave to make it to Peter's intimacy workshop on time.
This second phase of my episodic evening turned out to bring its own surprises. When I arrived at the event space, John and Crystal were there. (Recall: Crystal is a woman whom Simon had a brief and dramatic relationship with, and John is her husband, who went fucking berserk on us one night and earned my absolute contempt.) I freaked out a little bit, but I was civil, and I tried to remember that I can trust Peter to manage the situation gracefully. He came through. With Peter's help, by the end of the workshop, we had all worked out our conflicts. The whole setting of a workshop on cultivating trust and vulnerability is really a pretty fantastic environment for resolving issues, after all.
Next, Peter and I zipped back to my house to get changed. We had a great time trying on and picking out clothes. He ended up selecting a pretty, slinky black dress of mine after trying on several possibilities. I ended up in a casual suit--nice boyish jeans, sport coat, leather slouch cap (which belonged to my father and his father), and plain brown sneakers--with the tan vest and brown tie that Cory had loaned me. I was looking dapper, and Peter was looking very pretty, but we were an odd-looking pair, I'm sure.
I don't want to give the impression that the experience of our evening in drag was easier or simpler than it actually was. We spent nearly an hour just screwing up our courage to go at all. I think it would be difficult to relate here the emotional process by which each of us ended up crying at different times during the evening, why the genderfucking was so scary for me, and how my confusion over Silas was affecting my connection to Peter that night. Suffice it to say that it was an extremely intense, process-heavy evening that felt like a time of accelerated growth. I am grateful to Peter for going to that very tender, vulnerable place with me, allowing himself to be similarly vulnerable, and for loving and supporting me so attentively. Despite the emotional fumbles, I was proud to have him (as her, Patricia) in my arms on the dance floor. I don't know if anyone else noticed...but we sparkled. Later, we tumbled into bed and had the most beautiful, slow, tender lovemaking of our relationship to date.
The next morning, I took Peter out to brunch, and then he had to go back to the commune. I was more sorry to see him go than I have ever been before. I love that man.
The rest of my weekend was relatively normal, save for one funny little thing that provided me with a chance to witness how Silas navigates one sort of dicey communication situation. He and I were supposed to hang out Saturday or Sunday sometime, but he asked for a rain check because he was going to have a friend in town whom he wanted to spend time with. When he first told me about this friend, I could have sworn he called the person "he." However, to his credit, he did eventually come around to the awkward truth: she is a friend whom he had been and would end up getting intimate with later. He welcomed me to come over if I felt like "snuggling" with the two of them, explaining that his friend is into women too... Tempting, but as I told him, I felt like it may be too early for me, with him, to be getting busy with a third. I think I need to establish more of a sense of trust with Silas before we jump into bed with another.
The great thing about this circumstance was that it gave me a chance to show him that I really am quite relaxed about anything that he can be perfectly honest about.
(Side note: One of these days I should probably explain the struggle I've been having with this, about this odd pattern that seems to be proving that many, many men are much more likely to fall in love with women who can at least occasionally show an extremely irrational, reactionary, jealous side...*sigh* I don't stand a chance in that economy!)
I don't really have time to explain the business plan in detail, but I can leave you with a very succinct description of what Valerie and I have been talking about nonstop: opening a sex shop that doesn't suck. Our town desperately needs one, and we are super fired up about it. More on this later. Happy Monday! I have to run back to work now.
Thursday night, I met up with Silas at a local cocktail lounge that has amazing pork tacos. We took over the whole back room and somehow managed to keep it to ourselves for the duration of the time we needed to be having a "serious talk." Basically, I presented my situation to him in more detail--I'm not looking for fuck buddies, I do ultimately want commitment, and Peter is in my life to stay--and then asked for more information about what he's looking for in relationships right now.
His answers to my questions were disappointing, but not total deal-breakers, seeing as I still ended up waking up next to him on Friday morning. The basic gist was that he's ultimately looking for a monogamish partnership, but that for the moment he is fine with seeing how/where things go and seems to have as little interest as I have in slutting around. I was satisfied with his honesty, if not totally satisfied with his apparent preference for monogamy when he is in love.
Digression: *Sigh* I have a fair bit of trouble understanding this phrase, "in love," in anywhere near the same way that I used to. In fact, I get rather frustrated by how clear most people's divisions of these categories are. All the "I love him, but I'm not IN love with him" talk sounds so nonsensical to me that it has lost all meaning. In fact, last week I posted a comment on Reddit about this in response to a question asking what "I love you" means to the people of /r/polyamory:
I think those words are overrated as containers for meaning. I sometimes throw them around with impunity, especially with friends and family, but when I am having the sort of intense, high-value experience of appreciation and connection that needs expressing--the reason why most people use those three words--I am MUCH more careful about my language. I try to think, "What do I really mean?" ...and then say that more substantial thing instead of using the L-bomb.
....Because in my heart of hearts I like to believe that love should never be used as a noun, but only as an active verb. Loving is a practice, a doing, and not just some static feeling that magically exists and somehow should be given credibility or weight regardless of how the person actually treats the loved one. The "love just exists" model, I believe, promotes the kind of fuctup logic that makes people think that it is possible to be in a "loving" relationship with someone who harms and abuses him/her.
TL;DR: My approach is: screw putting so much value on telling partners "I love you" and focus more on doing the caring, compassionate, radically transformative work of lovING. If you need to express an intensely positive feeling for someone, then be more descriptive.
No man before him has ever made me cum only by going down on me/using his hands. I am not sure how much I've talked about this issue here, but I have always been an almost inorgasmic sexer. My enjoyment of non-masturbatory sex has always had to lie in other places, and generally, as you may be able to tell, I have accomplished plenty of that enjoyment. It keeps getting better all the time, but the fact remains that I can count on one hand how many times I have had an orgasm with someone without the assistance of a machine. And even with these two or three partners, we were never able to repeat the spectacle again.
Somehow, though, Silas almost effortlessly found the magic formula to give me an orgasm, and he was able to repeat the trick within a few hours. He just kept trying things and sensing my responses until he found the thing--some combination of luscious, velvety clit-licking and thumping my G-spot pretty hard--and it took no time at all for us to be in a puddle of lady-ejaculate. (I myself, sexually empowered goddess that I am, had never even known exactly how to instruct someone to do this! Next time, I must study his witch-doctoring ways more closely...) He was pleased to discover that I am a squirter, of course. I don't think I've ever met a straight man who wasn't at least somewhat interested in this little factoid about me. But damn, it was hot!
We fell asleep watching Me and You and Everyone We Know, and he held me comfortably all night. There is something incredibly relaxing on a deep, instinctual level about falling asleep tucked into the curve of a big, powerful man's body. I woke refreshed, and we fucked like puppies again in the morning before I left for work. Mmmm. Yes, I am pleased with most of what's going on in this relationship so far. I think it's worth a shot, even if I may be risking another Lachlan situation. After all, my overriding feeling about Lachlan was and still is that the experience was worth the heartache.
Friday night was so entirely different from Thursday night that I was reeling for some time in the transition. First, I went to visit my friend Cory, a transgendered man who was willing to help me put together my outfit for the evening. You see, Peter and I had made plans to go to a prom-themed event put on by a local record shop in my town every year. This event is a very straight/heteronormative hipster sort of thing, but it is famously fun. We had decided to go in drag together because Peter has, as I mentioned, been playing with feminine gender presentation and sexual roles. So, I figured, who better to help me get suited up than a trans man? It worked out nicely because Cory had a matching vest and tie for me to borrow. We hung out for a couple of hours having a really intense conversation about our lives and relationships, and then I had to leave to make it to Peter's intimacy workshop on time.
This second phase of my episodic evening turned out to bring its own surprises. When I arrived at the event space, John and Crystal were there. (Recall: Crystal is a woman whom Simon had a brief and dramatic relationship with, and John is her husband, who went fucking berserk on us one night and earned my absolute contempt.) I freaked out a little bit, but I was civil, and I tried to remember that I can trust Peter to manage the situation gracefully. He came through. With Peter's help, by the end of the workshop, we had all worked out our conflicts. The whole setting of a workshop on cultivating trust and vulnerability is really a pretty fantastic environment for resolving issues, after all.
Next, Peter and I zipped back to my house to get changed. We had a great time trying on and picking out clothes. He ended up selecting a pretty, slinky black dress of mine after trying on several possibilities. I ended up in a casual suit--nice boyish jeans, sport coat, leather slouch cap (which belonged to my father and his father), and plain brown sneakers--with the tan vest and brown tie that Cory had loaned me. I was looking dapper, and Peter was looking very pretty, but we were an odd-looking pair, I'm sure.
I don't want to give the impression that the experience of our evening in drag was easier or simpler than it actually was. We spent nearly an hour just screwing up our courage to go at all. I think it would be difficult to relate here the emotional process by which each of us ended up crying at different times during the evening, why the genderfucking was so scary for me, and how my confusion over Silas was affecting my connection to Peter that night. Suffice it to say that it was an extremely intense, process-heavy evening that felt like a time of accelerated growth. I am grateful to Peter for going to that very tender, vulnerable place with me, allowing himself to be similarly vulnerable, and for loving and supporting me so attentively. Despite the emotional fumbles, I was proud to have him (as her, Patricia) in my arms on the dance floor. I don't know if anyone else noticed...but we sparkled. Later, we tumbled into bed and had the most beautiful, slow, tender lovemaking of our relationship to date.
The next morning, I took Peter out to brunch, and then he had to go back to the commune. I was more sorry to see him go than I have ever been before. I love that man.
The rest of my weekend was relatively normal, save for one funny little thing that provided me with a chance to witness how Silas navigates one sort of dicey communication situation. He and I were supposed to hang out Saturday or Sunday sometime, but he asked for a rain check because he was going to have a friend in town whom he wanted to spend time with. When he first told me about this friend, I could have sworn he called the person "he." However, to his credit, he did eventually come around to the awkward truth: she is a friend whom he had been and would end up getting intimate with later. He welcomed me to come over if I felt like "snuggling" with the two of them, explaining that his friend is into women too... Tempting, but as I told him, I felt like it may be too early for me, with him, to be getting busy with a third. I think I need to establish more of a sense of trust with Silas before we jump into bed with another.
The great thing about this circumstance was that it gave me a chance to show him that I really am quite relaxed about anything that he can be perfectly honest about.
(Side note: One of these days I should probably explain the struggle I've been having with this, about this odd pattern that seems to be proving that many, many men are much more likely to fall in love with women who can at least occasionally show an extremely irrational, reactionary, jealous side...*sigh* I don't stand a chance in that economy!)
I don't really have time to explain the business plan in detail, but I can leave you with a very succinct description of what Valerie and I have been talking about nonstop: opening a sex shop that doesn't suck. Our town desperately needs one, and we are super fired up about it. More on this later. Happy Monday! I have to run back to work now.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
In Which Carnita Mans Up for Peter
I need to paint this picture for you in more detail. Switch to present tense narrative.
-------------------------------
Peter and I come home from an evening of dancing and pool-playing, and we start to get ready for bed. I disappear into the bathroom for a few minutes to freshen up. When I return, Peter is stretched out on the bed. He is wearing a royal blue satin negligée over a sexy little black bra and black sheer tights, looking absolutely delicious and heartbreakingly vulnerable. He smiles shyly up at me, arches his back, and runs his fingers through his long hair.
"Well hello," I say. He giggles and says, "I wanted to show you this me." I'm thrilled and terrified. I have no idea what I am about to do, but I hope I can rise to the occasion. I am hungry...
I slide down on the bed beside him and begin to explore his new embodiment, kissing, nibbling, and fondling. The first time I reach up for his little breasts and squeeze gently, he moans and squirms towards me. Yes yes yes! It's really happening!
I throw his knees over my shoulders and grind slowly on his ass. His sweet little girl-moans get louder and louder until I they are full-throated and resonant, and I am afraid that we are going to keep the whole house awake. I clap my hand over his...her mouth and pin her arms over her head with my elbows. She surrenders to me, and I become a man.
We tumble for hours like this, with me flipping her over, manipulating her limbs and placing them where I want them, and she gasping with my every assertion of strength and dominance. I turn her around to grind on her ass from behind, tangle my fingers up in her hair, and pull up and back to bare her lovely throat. I am almost sure she is about to start screaming with pleasure, so I reach around her head and thrust all the fingers of my hand into her mouth, grabbing the inside of her jaw for a handle to pull her back and forth, spreading her ass cheeks apart, thrusting my pubic bone into her ass. I go down on her, and I treat her cock like an overgrown clit, flicking my tongue and pushing my fingers up into the soft flesh behind her balls. I flip her on top of me, press my thumbs into her pretty little hips, and push her back and forth. She arches back and rides me with intense pleasure while I fondle her tits and stroke her belly.
Before we collapse in a cuddle puddle at 4 am, we talk about our fantasies. "I want to fuck you." "Oh god, I want you to fuck me. Oh fuck yes." "When can I take you shopping for toys, pretty girl?" That shy, demure smile again. It drives me fucking crazy. "When?" "Soon. But I'm scared." "Shhh. It will be perfect. We'll take it slow and use lots of lube. It won't even hurt, baby girl. I'll take care of you. I won't hurt you." "Yeah? Okay...okay." And we kiss, relieved, amazed, exhausted.
The next morning, he woke me with a very male erection pressed against my back, and we fucked again, but as our usual selves. After breakfast, I hand him a pretty red scarf that I had bought with him in mind, and I tell him, "I expect that scarf to smell like you when you return it to me next week. Wear it." "Yes sir."
------------------------------------
Shit! Holy fuck! So hot! I am still reeling.
-------------------------------
Peter and I come home from an evening of dancing and pool-playing, and we start to get ready for bed. I disappear into the bathroom for a few minutes to freshen up. When I return, Peter is stretched out on the bed. He is wearing a royal blue satin negligée over a sexy little black bra and black sheer tights, looking absolutely delicious and heartbreakingly vulnerable. He smiles shyly up at me, arches his back, and runs his fingers through his long hair.
"Well hello," I say. He giggles and says, "I wanted to show you this me." I'm thrilled and terrified. I have no idea what I am about to do, but I hope I can rise to the occasion. I am hungry...
I slide down on the bed beside him and begin to explore his new embodiment, kissing, nibbling, and fondling. The first time I reach up for his little breasts and squeeze gently, he moans and squirms towards me. Yes yes yes! It's really happening!
I throw his knees over my shoulders and grind slowly on his ass. His sweet little girl-moans get louder and louder until I they are full-throated and resonant, and I am afraid that we are going to keep the whole house awake. I clap my hand over his...her mouth and pin her arms over her head with my elbows. She surrenders to me, and I become a man.
We tumble for hours like this, with me flipping her over, manipulating her limbs and placing them where I want them, and she gasping with my every assertion of strength and dominance. I turn her around to grind on her ass from behind, tangle my fingers up in her hair, and pull up and back to bare her lovely throat. I am almost sure she is about to start screaming with pleasure, so I reach around her head and thrust all the fingers of my hand into her mouth, grabbing the inside of her jaw for a handle to pull her back and forth, spreading her ass cheeks apart, thrusting my pubic bone into her ass. I go down on her, and I treat her cock like an overgrown clit, flicking my tongue and pushing my fingers up into the soft flesh behind her balls. I flip her on top of me, press my thumbs into her pretty little hips, and push her back and forth. She arches back and rides me with intense pleasure while I fondle her tits and stroke her belly.
Before we collapse in a cuddle puddle at 4 am, we talk about our fantasies. "I want to fuck you." "Oh god, I want you to fuck me. Oh fuck yes." "When can I take you shopping for toys, pretty girl?" That shy, demure smile again. It drives me fucking crazy. "When?" "Soon. But I'm scared." "Shhh. It will be perfect. We'll take it slow and use lots of lube. It won't even hurt, baby girl. I'll take care of you. I won't hurt you." "Yeah? Okay...okay." And we kiss, relieved, amazed, exhausted.
The next morning, he woke me with a very male erection pressed against my back, and we fucked again, but as our usual selves. After breakfast, I hand him a pretty red scarf that I had bought with him in mind, and I tell him, "I expect that scarf to smell like you when you return it to me next week. Wear it." "Yes sir."
------------------------------------
Shit! Holy fuck! So hot! I am still reeling.
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