13

Discombobulation. Sexual satiation and bliss.

Discombobulated – disconcerted – euphoric – ecstasy – intoxicated – heady – sexual – achy – blissed out… these are just some of the words that may explain where I am today.

Yesterday saw Cern talk me into going to trivia with him and some of his friends. He said the magic word, steak… and I was hooked. But apparently I had to have a garish Hawaiian shirt and a sparkly hat for the xmas theme. We did a spot of shopping and had a really lovely night, trivia was entertaining, his friends were also entertaining. I was glad I let him talk me into going out.

We had some really interesting conversations during him getting us very lost on our way to the other side of the harbour. We may have admitted to caring about each other just a wee bit a few days ago and I explained that usually in relationships I am never this open, or accessible or actually ok with a lover of mine sleeping with other women. Let’s put that down to the last 9 years of monogamous relationships. Poly is hard when it’s been so long! But, as I said to him, I don’t often get jealous of his telling me about other girls he’s dated or seen or talked to or hooked up with. I sometimes get a twinge of something which usually relates to my self value about myself more so than anything he was saying or doing, but it’s nothing like what I was used to and he asked me why I was so ok with him and the way our openness is at the moment.

I had to think about that for a while. And I honestly think it comes down to the fact that I trust him to tell me the truth and he has been, without pulling punches or becoming all vague like most men do because they don’t want to say what they are feeling in the fear that they are going to lose out on the sex. He just tells me stuff. And I appreciate that so bloody much. And that, I think, in and of itself is why I am so centered. I’m really secure. I know where I stand with him. I know that whoever else he’s seeing or dating isn’t going to impact us and that makes me know we’re good.

We still haven’t defined our friendship apart from what it is we’re doing right now. Even so, I’m ok. Surprisingly so. For some reason I feel safe with him and that’s all that matters to me now. Like he said to me, I realise that the level of openness I’ve given him access to could have blown up in my face… but I’ve spent years and years and years hiding behind walls. Being hurt is a part of life, if it doesn’t work at least I know I did this the way I would want any future relationship to be like. With total openness, honesty and caring. Whether he finds someone else that sweeps him off his feet or not, that’s beside the point. Right now, I’m happy. I’m happy with where I am with him. I’m beyond happy with the sexual chemistry and he smells good. Good gods he smells good. I could get used to smelling that man a lot.

We talked about a few other things too, but you know me guys, some things I like to play close to my chest. The rest is going to keep my insides warm for a while longer before I share with y’all.

However! Today… Today is blissful.

It’s that feeling you get from getting fucked so well and hard all night until the wee hours of the morning so that the next day at work your body feels small aches and pains, the twinge in your cunt from the bruised pelvis. The slight ache in your lower back from where he applied all his weight to slam into you harder from behind. The beautiful tremble in your neck when you stretch because he had his teeth biting down in that one spot. Remembering his moans as he kept sliding back into you and feeling the charged sexual energy between you.

Last night was an interesting rediscovery after his injury.

At first we were both a bit unsure, I didn’t want to hurt him any more than I already had and he was a bit anxious about if it was going to hurt. But just to be on the safe side I ended up swatting in the shower, with my back against the tiled walls as the water ran over him and sucked his cock. There’s something to be said about being pushed up against a wall while someone throat fucks you. It was hot. I gagged, spluttered, nearly drowned and every time he pulled out of my mouth I whimpered at the loss and leaned out after it with an open mouth for more.

Before long we’d moved ourselves into the bedroom and being the bastard he was, he made me stand, legs spread and made me count out the orgasms until 21. At which point he said I’m done and my legs gave out and I may have knelt in front of him while he was sitting on my bed. And so I went back to doing what I love doing, sating my oral fixation by worshiping his cock some more.

The sex – well, let’s just say that I think he’s making me realise some things that I obviously had no idea about previously. So as much as he says that I’m teaching him a lot, I think he’s also teaching me quite a lot too. His hands still electrify me, I don’t know what it is, they are so big and warm and make me tingle from the inside out. Or maybe from the outside in. Either way he man has a way with his hands and my body has a mind of it’s own when he applies said hands to me – all I can do is hold on for the ride. From the 4am surprise sex that was a bit magical to me. There was something different about our coming together at 4am. I don’t know what it was, but it felt like he was radiating desire. It’s like I was being wrapped up in his raw animal lust and desire and sexuality and it was intoxicating. I felt lost in it, to the point that I couldn’t get enough of him. He couldn’t get any deeper inside of me yet I wanted more. The orgasms were continuous, like a summer thunderstorm. I felt cleansed, dirtied, used, ravenous, fulfilled, desired and wanted all in one go.

Which may explain why I feel the way I do today.

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I’m kinda glad that I took the chance even though I know not where our paths are headed.

16

Sex Accidents: I hurt what?! !!!!

You know those times you are busy fucking so hard, so fast and so often that you feel that your gentials are constantly entangled and may not survive being separated for long periods of time? I’m pretty sure that’s where we were at… And since he said I could post about it but will suffer the consequences, I hope you all realise the pain I’m putting myself into for your reading pleasure.

Anyway, a few weeks ago Cern and I were having a marathon sex session. Not that many of our sex sessions aren’t marathon… but that’s beside the point.

Cern learned something that no one has done so far to me, that if he makes me cum over hours and hours of sexing my entire body becomes electrified and when he touches me, I start to shake. If he touches me in certain spots I feel like there’s a current running from his big warm hands into my body, under the layer of my skin. It feels like my cells are sparking and making me jittery. My stomach knots up, my whole body has this reaction to him that I have no control over. He found it delightful. I found it disconcerting. He started to run his fingers up and down my spine, from the base all the way up to my neck. And being that my neck is super sensitive without the rest of me being electrified; so with the way my body was my neck felt like he had ripped my skin off and was playing with my nerve endings that led straight into my panties. I shook, I moaned, I clenched my hands and I couldn’t figure out if he kept going whether I was going to cum from his scratching my back or maybe I was going to splinter into a million and one pieces of orgasmic ecstasy.

He kept going, this time he added nails too. Before long I was starting on a wave of pure touch induced bliss. The more he kept at it, the closer and closer I came to reaching orgasm – yet he persisted. The fingers, the touching, the scratching, the nails and my withering at his fingertips. Surprise orgasm. Let’s call this one a surprise orgasm. Who knew you could get there with just touching alone? I sure as hell didn’t. But he did get me there. And as I lay there totally spent, having a hard time breathing and waiting for the fireworks to subside and my skin to get back to non-tingle stage, I wondered what the hell just happened?

What was that? Is that even normal? Does that even happen? I know I’m a bit weird in the way I’m wired. I cum from spankings. I can orgasm from giving blow jobs, I cum from nipple torture and now it seems I can spontaneously orgasm from oversensitive back touches. He seemed to love that he could get me somewhere I’d never been before. I wanted to smack his smugness but laughed instead. I’ll give him his cherry, he did good. He seems to be finding a lot of cherries that I didn’t even know I had and relishing in popping them.

By the time Monday afternoon rocked around we’d had a pretty big deep and meaningful that morning and I was feeling a bit emotionally raw and frayed and I’m pretty sure he may have been as well when I offered snugglefucking to cure our woes because nothing fixes anything like losing yourself in each other right? Right. For a pair of people who aren’t in a relationship I’m loving our communication, anyway… He offered his place as long as I was quiet. Me? I could do quiet, I can totally do quiet as long as you don’t hurt me. Hurting me means all bets are off the table unless you put your hand over my mouth to ensure I don’t scream while growling in my ear to not make a sound. That usually works a treat too. But anyway, I promised I would be quiet and we organised to have a shag fest at his place.

We spent most of Monday night chatting and sitting around with his housemates before I really needed to go to bed as I’d not slept the night before and was feeling the pull of sleep. He had to drive someone to the train station for them to get home and I took that as my leave to go get in a nap for at least 30 minutes. I have no idea how long I had a nap for, it didn’t feel very long but I was woken up with by the sight of a great big hunk of man. A girl can’t complain, honestly. We spent most of the night shagging. I was so quiet, everyone should be proud of me. We pretty much christened nearly every surface in his bedroom and his en suite. Note to self: tiles on the bathroom floor bite into one’s knees pretty hard. It’s nearly as bad as kneeling on rice.

At some point the next day after a full night of fucking and sleeping and fucking and sleeping and fucking… He bent me over the bed and he was slowly turning me into putty with long, sure strokes that were alternated between hard and soft. To be honest I have no idea what happened, all I know is at some point I was cumming and I may have clenched and he may have missed the re-entry, or something – when he didn’t say anything and I certainly didn’t think anything of it. So it kept going until we finished. Then a bit extra, like in the shower. The bathroom. The bathroom floor as I may have tried to crawl into his bedroom. He didn’t let me go anywhere.

We fuck a lot. And it’s pretty amazing. Apparently I’m good sex, cheers Cern. I’m pretty awesome, I know. But getting back to the story and not our fucking antics…

We stopped to have a break and to lounge around waiting for his appointment during the day. When we went into the bedroom and I dropped to my knees to worship his cock for a while and as soon as I got it out and into my mouth he frowned.

Hmmm. Warning Houston, we may have a problem.

He said hold on, so I did. He felt his penis a bit while I was eye level with it and he said does it look weird to you. So I looked and looked and wanted to lick it and nuzzled it and show it some loving, but I behaved and just looked. And he was right. There was a slight purplish bulge along the left side of it. I blinked. Um, that’s not right I said. I asked him if he hurt, he said it doesn’t hurt like he’s dying kind of hurt, but he can feel the pain of it there. I sat back on my heels and frowned.

My blow job. It just went the way of the dodo – however his penis health trumped my suckling urges. Penises are really rather important to fun times, it was more important to me that he hadn’t done anything that was going to damage it or himself.

So we held off on my sucking his cock, yes I was disappointed but I was more worried that we’d hurt it and that he was in pain. So we discussed the pain a bit, was it sharp? Shooting? Could he walk? After ascertaining all this he decided we should get it checked out. I agreed, there is no reason for us not to and it’s better to be safe than sorry.

So off we trundled to the ER in the next town. We checked in with the triage nurse and I have to admit, I giggled she asked what had happened and he waved at me and said “her”. To be fair, I felt pretty horrible, I’ve never broken a penis before. Sure I may have accidentally snapped an ex’s ribs, but we were wrestling at the time and we fell off the bed – plus she was tiny…

I didn’t know what else to do but touch him. Pat him, hold his hand… I couldn’t imagine what was going through the poor guy’s brain at this time. So I offered what I could… touch. Comfort. Hopefully some stupid humour to get him to crack a smile. Before long we were ushered into see the nurse, who took notes and asked about the injury. We left said nurse and waited some more when the Dr then called him in. I figured I didn’t need to be in there for that bit and sat outside waiting. Thankfully he didn’t leave me alone long enough with the cricket on the TV so that I didn’t try scratching my veins out. However he did come out with a smirk so at least I knew it was going to be ok.

We started off back towards his car and I asked. Sooooooooooooooooooo?

He said that the Dr thought he’d burst a blood vessel of some kind which is why it was swollen and purplish looking and he had the sharpish pains in his groin. He said he had to rest it for an entire week. I may have felt my heart drop… What I asked? A WHOLE WEEK?!

Yes, he says. No straining it. Not even licking it? No, not even licking it apparently.

OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THE GODS! HOW AM I MEANT TO GO A WHOLE WEEK WITHOUT HIS PENIS?

Of course I kept my composure and may have giggled. He had to keep it in his pants. snickersnicker at least I could wank.

Suffice to say we didn’t last a week of not fucking, especially since we spent nearly the week together. However we haven’t been able to have a marathon since because of it. I miss riding it. Devouring it and just enjoying it without it hurting him. It pains me that it hurts him so. I did enjoy sucking it while we were watching GoT the other night on the couch, there’s something to be said about a guy that lets you enjoy his penis with your mouth for as long as you want, I threw a pillow on the floor and kneeled on it. My housemate came up for a smoke at one point so he told me to stop, so I stopped but kept him in my mouth. But being that I’m so nice I put him away as soon as she stepped outside and curled up next to him on the couch for the rest of the night.

But dear gods I am so fucking horny.

And this is where we’re at dears, a week later and it’s still hurting him a bit. I’m rabidly horny and contemplating taking on my housemates fucking machine called Humphrey to dull the itch a bit. Oh Humphrey, if only you didn’t scare the bejesus out of me!

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31

Quaintrelle – New FWB, new words and breaking of droughts.

So yesterday I had a date of sorts. With someone I met off OKC. The first date I’ve been on since I got back from the States and post break up with Loki.

We’d chatted a while but we never really got to the point of meeting before until I messeged him last week asking how he was as he’d been quiet for a while and being the gentle soul that I am was worried. He said he was good and that he was glad he heard from me. He gave me his number and said to message him on there. Done deal, we talked a bit, we sexted a bit, he thought my denial of wanting cock pictures was interesting – instead I had him send me pictures that engaged my mind. Half glimpses, moulds, curves in pants. It gets me hotter than a cock shot let me tell you. Coupled with his teasing me over messages made for an interesting few days leading up to our date.

He asked if I was serious about all the sexting talking. Did I put out on the first date? I laughed. Usually no, no I don’t. But we aren’t dating to become long-term lovers and build a partnership together. We were meeting for me to judge him in regards to him being a FWB. Entirely different ballgame! But I said that I didn’t usually, however to be fair, there were a few men that figured out my buttons pretty early and I may have ended up jumping their bones. But usually no, it waits for the 3rd date or more.

We’d gone over the ins and outs of what we were wanting and expecting. I was clear that I was only after a FWB thing. I don’t have the emotional capacity to offer more at this point in my life. He said that’s good because that’s all he can pretty much offer too.

Fast forward to Sunday morning. I was so nervous I was at the point of sitting hugging the toilet bowl because I was going to throw up.

For some reason my nerves are never based on how attractive a person is, it’s how much they’ve engaged my brain, I think I’ve mentioned before that I’m very much a sapiosexual right? Well I am. And this guy engaged my brain, he was smart, articulate and was finding buttons that made me a panting wet mess within 5 seconds with just words in a text message. Granted I’ll also affix some blame here to someone sending me other pictures via email that also added to my highly aroused state the day before but that’s another story.

So while I stood pacing around the house like a caged lion, my house mate laughed at my nerves and when our security buzzer went off I flapped at it for 3 rings before picking it up and letting him into the building, I didn’t even get out anything more than a hello and I’ll open the door then hung up. I forgot to say “wait I’ll come down and get you” or “don’t get lost in the garage”. I squawked at the buzzer I’d just hung up and rushed off to go save him. Yes, my housemate was still at the dryer laughing at my antics.

I ran downstairs to save him from our car park of hell and brought him up so I could grab my wallet and keys so we could head out to get coffee.

We went to my local and sat down and talked. And talked. And talked. At least we didn’t run out of things to say. He termed me as a quaintrelle. I admit I had no idea what he was gibbering about so I had to look it up on my phone. Thanks google!

Quaintrelle

I thought it was sweet of him to say – I try to be, some days I succeed, other days I fail miserably. But I figure that’s life right?

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10

Brunch, ben wa balls, butt plugs and girl on girl beginnings…

There comes a time in everyone’s life… well ok, maybe not.

But there’s always a time in mine when I get asked such random questions that I often don’t see them coming and end up doing this…

 

One of my girlfriends called me up one day to advise that some her kinky friends are coming up from our nations capital and she had some unexpected work pop up, so would I mind being hostess to them while they were in Sydney for a night? She says they are a married couple and really lovely people. I say sure, why not. I don’t have anything on that night so it seemed like a good idea.

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6

Para-noir – I fuck you because I loved you

“para-noir,” which was meant to represent excessive darkness and the paranoia of trust – Marilyn Manson

I was listening to this song while working and the meaning of the song, why it was written and the responses made me think about the various reasons why I’ve fucked people.

You see, according to Manson – he had a huge amount of girls come through and he asked them why they would fuck him. Their responses are what makes this song. The chorus is his reply to them.

And I thought what a quaint idea. To make a post about the why’s of fucking.

I’d fuck you because you’re famous

Would you? Have you? Could you?

My answer… Possibly. Chemistry has always been a very big reason in whether I let someone get between my legs. Because they are famous doesn’t change the equation. I need chemistry. I need lust. I need something.

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7

Owning my inner slut. Or outter slut. Oh yes, hello!

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I find it highly entertaining how often people will base judgements depending on how many people you’ve slept with.

Does it make my personality more attractive to know that I’m sexually incompetent? Does it make you feel dirty sleeping with someone who is a self-professed slut and lost track of how many people she slept with about the 150 mark? Does it matter that to this day I’ve never had an STI? Or that I probably am more cautious about my sexual health than most?

I’m not a slut, I just love love

So this, this post is about me celebrating my inner slut. Owning her, knowing her and loving her.

Tell me something new
Cause I’ve heard this
Okay I’ll fuck you
A little taste test
You’ll be my little friend
You’ll be my little friend
You’ll be my little friend

You see, to preface, I found penis late in life. I was a lesbian until the age of about 21. I fell in love with a man from work and we went there. My first consensual mutual sexual encounter left a lot to be desired. I remember calling my cousin as I walked home to tell her I did “it” and she was a bit surprised at how inanimate I was talking about it. Almost scientific in my explanations and deductions on how it felt. She laughed a lot at me.

Don’t worry, it definitely got better. When my then first boyfriend proposed to me, I freaked out and broke up with him.

Cue my endless parade of penis. I’m sure some of them were attached to men, however the rest never really registered much. I was going through and catching up on the years that I’d denied myself the pleasure of this piece of a meat belonging to a man. That sounds rather objectifying no? Good.

And they think we fall in love
But that’s not it
Just want to get some
Ain’t that some shit
You’ll be my little friend
You’ll be my little friend
You’ll be my little friend
Yeah, yeah yeah

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