Archive for February, 2013


things i like

Things I enjoy

-being woken up by orgasms

-facials, the spermy kind.



-being pinned down

-oral sex


-playing with balls

-fingers in my vagina, the more the merrier

-being sore the next day

-clothespins on nipples

-boob play

-rope play

-orgasm control

-boys who like making girls cum

-the dominant tone of voice

-being called a good girl, and a bad girl, and a whore and a slut and other sexy names

-spankings, when it’s just a little too hard.


-sexy tumblrs

-sexy text messages


-sex toys

-cuddling, especially spooning. Always the little spoon.

-being pushed, and pushing myself

-sucking of nipples

-bruises, hickies and lingering red marks

-showering together

-kisses on the forehead

-massages, back and hand and foot massages



dating ish.

I’m dating someone now. We’re exclusive. His name is Mantoy, for now. I might grow a new name for him later. I’ll speak to him about what his pseudonym is, as soon as I introduce him to my blog, which is a whole nother adventure anyway. I don’t know how I’ll do that either…Can I ponder that later?

It’s weird, for me. It’s a very…normal, relationship compared to what my ex and I were, and that’s really weird for me. We’re balanced, and It’s good don’t get me wrong, but it’s weird. A good weird.

I haven’t told my mother. I don’t know how to. I don’t even know when/if I will. I mean I told my mom about my douche-bag ex when I was moving in with him, which granted was only 3 months into the relationship…maybe I shouldn’t go there anyway. I suppose I’ll tell her when I have to, or when she asks if I’m seeing someone(she won’t), or maybe I’ll just change my facebook status and let someone ask my mom about it( we’re not facebook friends.) Jesus, that’s a passive aggressive approach if I ever did see one.

Now, about introducing him to my blog. I don’t know. I’m always a little weird about this. My blog…it’s me. It’s me hemorrhaging me and my sex life into the Internet for people to read about. It could make me unhirable, if I were ever outed as the author of this blog and a such I’m always real careful about introducing it to real life friends. What if we have a nasty break up and he posts it to the internet and emails it to everyone I know?

I swear I had more to post with this post…but I forgot. I’ll think on it and come back later.


Last night I sent a text to this guy I’m seeing “hey…so this throat thing I have….there isn’t any possibility it’s an STI presenting orally, is it?”

This guy and I, we’re pseudo –exclusive.  We’re only seeing each other, but haven’t committed to exclusivity yet and last week twelve hours after I gave a condomless blowjob- I got a sore throat.  It doesn’t help that I’m a touch of a hypochondriac. 

I was assured that he hadn’t been with anyone but me since we first hooked up and he was clean then( we did have the super sexy STI conversation before we hooked up.  I asked about a million questions and all but saw his paperwork.)   I believe him and I’m just sick because god hates me and likes seeing me downtrodden. 

I woke up this morning and was tempted to send an apology text to him for having suggested he’d been with someone between his first hook up with me and valentine’s day.  But I didn’t and I’m glad, because I didn’t break any sort of code.  I was just protecting my health.  One of my friends suggested that I had overstepped and that he’d probably run away screaming because I suggested there was someone else.  At that point I decided that, if me double checking his status makes him run for the hills A) I need  to get tested super stat and B) He isn’t someone I want to spend my time with.  And that’s that. 



I’m falling into this thing, and I don’t know quite what it is, It’s good though, but I’m learning that for some reason, I really don’t like the word “master.”




I don’t have a ton of stuff to say right now, just that, if you’re ever feeling up boobs and feel something that might be irregular, point it out.  Right then and there.  Don’t worry about killing the mood, or your boner.