19

Sex Toys: Bad Dragon

Cern, bless his cotton socks, has introduced me to things that I had no idea existed. I know I know, shocking right?!

Now for those of you like me who had no idea what Bad Dragon was until it was wedged between your legs as you squealed and back-peddled up the bed then you’ll be delighted to know that they are an adult sex toy shop. Which isn’t about normal sex toys. Oh no.

They have some pretty amazing items in there.

And that’s just some of the interesting implements that they stock.

I got lost looking at their website and it was only after Cern chased me up the bed with his torture device did it all start to perk my imagination a wee bit.

You see he has the bruiser and a sheath basilisk in large. We’ve had some fun with both. I mean, after I picked my jaw up from the floor and said that they wouldn’t fit because I’m too little. He proved me wrong. He likes proving me wrong. He gets this evil glint in his eye when he does and that cheeky “I’m right” grin on his face that makes me want to stomp my feet and rawr at him.

However back to the toys, oh the tooooooooooooys. So anyway. The first time he pulled out the bruiser my eyes watered and I may have climbed up the bed to try to get away. He slid the darn into his jeans and grabbed me to pull me back down again. And let’s just say that anytime he climbs above me and pins me down, I turn into a gooey mess is probably the best description I can think of. So he slowly edged the thing into me as I whimpered and thought “Oh sex gods, I’m dying” because it felt like I was being split in two. It was uncomfortable as it was different. He kept his eyes glued to mine the entire time. He stopped pushing that damn thing in. I silently thanked whichever god was listening and took a deep breath. Then he slowly moved out and in. He kept up a slow rhythm. And before long I may have panted and moaned. Raising my hips to meet his as he thrust. It still felt like I was being ripped in two. But it was a ripped in two I could happily get off on. And I did. Repeatedly. Until, that was he tried to push past the huge fuck off knot the damn thing has near the base of it. It’s the size of my fist. I measured. And my eyes may have bulged out. It felt like they did anyway. No matter how hard he pushed, that thing wasn’t going in and I started to climb up the bed again.

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The Bruiser

 

Cern thinks I can take it. I think I may die if I do. We’re at an impasse and I fear the day he takes it in his head to spend an afternoon between my legs making me take the entire thing.

Second on the list was the basilisk sheath. Now that thing was fun. We used it early in our relationship, just before I broke his penis.

It was uncomfortable too, but not to the point that I thought I was screaming (apparently I wasn’t) and wanting to die. This one was a lot more fun. I think it’s because of the added bonus of the tip of his penis peeking out the top so that he gets sensation from it as much as I do. There are ribs inside the sheath for his added pleasure too. He said it grips him and he can feel the thrusts through it. So not only does it have knobs on the outside, it has knobs on the inside!! Winning on both ends here.

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How did it feel? It felt like I was still being ripped in half, however there was no uncomfortableness. It was pleasant, yet felt like I was being stretched in a good way. There was no “oh gods no” there was just “oh. oh my gods, yes!!!” But like the bruiser it’s nice that he went slow at first. I don’t think you can rush these things, unless you have a buckload of lube on hand and don’t mind tearing something. And since Cern has a nice habit of tearing me without toys, I found it nice that he took it easy on me with them. Yes, I know, I’m keeping him.

So Bad Dragon? Why weird sex toys? Well you see, there’s a whole subset of people who get off on role-playing. This plays into so many different sub-sets and areas of sexuality because the toys are so wonderfully sci-fi, fantasy and amazingly fun that how could you not want to have a go? Granted, maybe try the smaller sizes first since the big ones scare me. Unless you’re into that kind of thing. In which case GO FOR IT. Then send me a video.

However, getting back on point. I think this plays really nicely into the being taken, stretched, used and having a lot of cum dumped in you fantasy really well. Especially since the bruiser and other toys come with the tube where you can use their goopy lube as cum to insert into the person you’re currently fucking with it. I don’t know about you but it seriously turns me on when I can feel my insides filled, on nights when I can actually feel Cern’s cock throbbing as he comes turns me on to the point where I have to masturbate afterwards furiously. He made a funny comment the other night saying that most guys would be upset if their partner felt the urge to masturbate after sex because they thought they weren’t doing a good enough job getting her off, but I’m masturbating because his orgasm turned me on more. He found it endlessly amusing. I got off fine during sex with him. I love sex with him on so many levels. But when I can feel him actually come deep inside me? And that pulse as he moans? Ohhh phwoar! It turns me on like nothing else. So yes, masturbating while I feel his come dripping out of me? Even hotter. 

So these toys can do that for you too. Considering they have those nifty tubes. Like the feeling of being filled? Then go for it. And yes, you still have to send me a video.

All in all though? I think these toys have a delightfully long list of uses. From fantasy role-playing, to using them as base sex toys, to using them as part of your regular sexual shenanigans. So many options… I can’t wait till we get some more goodies from them.

31

Whore-phobia – Waving the red flag.

I’ve been through a really emotionally draining yet uplifting weekend. However something I came across through my travels that made me sit up and get a bit cranky was this belief that sex workers, hookers, whores… they are somehow less than human. What they do is degrading.. well no, it’s not actually.

Now being that I’m a slut positive and anti-shaming anything kinda gal, I decided I needed to have a rant about it.

Since I live in Australia, prostitution is legal here. Yes I thank the many gods about this fact daily too. What that means is that if I wanted, it is a viable and very profitable way to earn a living. I have friends that earn upwards of $300 an hour for their services.

I have many many friends who are sex workers. They are intelligent, funny, sassy, amazing women and men with degrees from universities all across the country. Does that they get paid hourly to fuck people somehow detract from that? Being that they spend their time being paid to supply sex, does this somehow now make them inferior? Damaged goods? Unwanted because they are used already?

A lot of this ties into slut shaming. And we all know how I feel about that – basically what it comes down to is that as humans we all love sex. Yes, even those people who have a low sex drive and enjoy maybe once every 6 months to those like me who would be having sex every minute of every hour if I could except Cern may just override that and tie me up in a corner to make sure I die from the horny while he tortures me a bit more by sexually frustrating me. Yes I whine, but secretly I love it.

That’s beside the point however.

The point I’m trying to make here is that just because someone has chosen to do sex work doesn’t mean that they are doing it because they have a drug habit, or are sold off in the sex trade, or forced into prostitution. Don’t get me wrong, these things do happen and they are a blight upon sex workers all over the world. It’s unjust, inhumane and shouldn’t be tolerated at all. However, on the flip side, there are also a lot of sex workers in Australia who chose this job for a myriad of reasons which are positive.

I’ve heard some people say that they would never date a sex worker. I never understood this concept. Maybe because the way I view sex and intimacy is really rather different to everyone else. I mean you can totally have sex with someone without caring deeply for them. There doesn’t have to be a connection of any kind apart from the physical act of shagging each other. And when I talk to my friends about their personal relationships with others I came to the realisation that just because they get paid to have sex with people, doesn’t mean that at home they can’t have a fulfilling and loving relationship with someone else. Sex doesn’t equate to love. A loving sexual relationship is so much more. Yet when my friends take on a client that is one of their regulars there’s a level of intimacy there, yet it’s still professional and its still work.

I think sex workers get such a bad rap because people believe that somehow sex makes you dirty. If you’ve been with a lot of people or you take payment for sex then it means you’re tainted goods. I blame the men who wrote those stupid religious texts for these misconceptions and the belief that somehow working as a sex worker is a bad thing.

I once applied and nearly worked at a brothel. Granted it wasn’t a full service house, it was part service or what I like to call a “rub and tug”. You got dressed up in pretty lingerie and massaged people with a happy ending included. No penetration. Only they wanted me to take out all my piercings to work there so I said no. As they say, don’t get between a girl and her piercings man. Which is a shame really, because I think I would have had a ball at the rub and tug.

Basically, I think, it all comes down to sex workers just being like the rest of us. Some have families that they are supporting by being sex workers, other’s are putting themselves through university or just earning a living. Thankfully we live in a country where brothel’s have stringent rules and regulations for all workers including safe sex practices and regular testing and checks.

Maybe I’m just a bit weird but I honestly don’t get the anti-whore-ism that seems to be prevalent in society. Sex workers are amazing people who contribute something amazing to the community, even if you don’t agree with it, it’s an important service that other’s do appreciate and do support.

Myself included.

So when I read or hear anything anti-sex workers I take a stand. I have marched with Scarlet Alliance for worker rights, acceptance and to stop the government from deregulating the sex work industry. I’ve put my hat in the bag and supported friends and other’s I deem family in what they do, their right to do it and the fact that it doesn’t make them less of a person or unable to be a loving partner.

So where do you stand on dating a sex worker? Does it bother you? Would it bother you? Why?

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Sex worker positive sites that have some interesting information and links:

SWOP – Sex Workers Outreach Project
Scarlet Alliance – Australian Sex Workers Association

 

23

Bloggy visitors and the beginning of something different…

I know this update has been long overdue. Y’all can spank me later.

I’ve been really slack, however my 2 week holiday I was taking off to show Johnny around my hometown turned into a whirlwind coming together of me and Cern in the merriest of ways and I felt horrible but it also meant that I spent more time with Cern that at home or anywhere else.

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However it was nearly a week after Johnny landed that I reached my limit of not seeing Cern and decided I needed my hands on him, my face in his chest and to be able to breathe him in. Plus, I was horny. That always helps.

We’d been texting each other a bit in that time anyway, so when he said Tuesday I said yes. There was no other answer to that question. He wanted to cook us his amazing spaghetti bolognaise. He seemed to think I was going to fall to his feet and offer him my eternal gratitude and declare him my food god. And to be fair, he makes a decent spag bol. It was tasty. I still think mine’s better – but as I said to him last night, my spag bol is never the same. I am always adding all kinds of things to it to see what works – especially spicy things.

So while Cern was cooking, him and Johnny were chatting about various things and I was salivating because I was starving and admiring how Cern looked rape-able standing in our suspension frame in the living room. That man has a way of derailing even the best thoughts I have. This night, however, was a night that marked us spending rather a long time in each other’s company.

The next night we both had dates in the City, so we helped each other get ready. It was so comfortable, sure it felt a bit weird when I thought about how we were getting each other ready for a date with someone else, but at the same time, it felt like it was something we’d been doing forever and it was ok. I’m not sure how to describe this feeling. When we kissed each other goodbye on the way out of the door and said “Hope you have a good night” – We meant it. I wanted him to have fun and enjoy his date. On his way back to me from his date however I got a message saying that he felt like shit and I started to fret. He didn’t feel 100% going on the date and I thought he should postpone but he was adamant that he go. I wasn’t going to stop him, he’s a big boy and can make those decisions. I wanted him to call me if he felt that he couldn’t drive to me and I’d get a cab to him to drive him home.

He got sicker the next day so I nursed him for a few nights in my bed. We then moved from my house to his house and I stayed with him for 4 days. I met his kids – who are totally adorable. My niece still wins in the ultimate cute stakes though, but I’ll say his come a close second. Christmas was a bit of a write off, he was still pretty sick so we spent the night doing what two geeks together do best, we set up his living room so that we had a gaming centre and played Diablo 3’s expansion together. We spent our nights curled up sleeping, or if he was feeling up for it we’d fuck. I wanted to make sure he didn’t kill himself in the process, sexing isn’t as important as him getting better but being that I am me, there’s no way I was going to say no to him ripping my knickers off and taking advantage of me.

He returned me home the night before new years eve.

Considering that I’d put out a blanket invite to all my friends to come over with their own food and their own drinks and join us in seeing in the new year I had no idea who was going to show and who wasn’t and thankfully we had a small gathering of my urban family. I couldn’t have asked for better company.

Except I didn’t have Cern.

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He dropped by on Tuesday so we spent some time together before NYE – he said that he had decided to spend the night with his other girl that he was dating. Apparently she was going to be on her own otherwise and he wasn’t up for a big night.

I thought I would be ok with this, I mean I just spent nearly over a week with the guy and we were only meant to be FWB right? Right. A break would be good for us.

But no matter how I rationalised it, my heart wasn’t having a bar of it.

Logically, it made sense. Totally.

Emotionally? Well. Emotionally it felt like I wasn’t important enough to see in the new year with. And no matter how I knew we’d just overdosed on each other for a week, that for this one night, I’d have preferred to spend it with him and would have forgone everyone else.

When he sent me a message saying that he felt wrong, my first thought was he was sick again and I needed to go get him. When he explained that he felt wrong driving away from my house, the penny dropped. He said some things clarified for him during that drive, he wanted to talk to me about it in the new year. My heart dropped, it sounded ominous, until he assured me that it definitely wasn’t. But him feeling wrong about not being with me didn’t change my current situation. That I wasn’t with him and that’s where I would have rather have been. Being that I’m not one to tell someone how to live their lives I told him he made his choice where he was spending the night and that I was disappointed but I wasn’t going to make him feel guilty for not being with me. It’s not the way I roll. I hold my hurt and roll with it. Such is life right? Tomorrow would be a new day.

Epiphany nights? Oh yes, welcome NYE for me. I learnt something that night and as I said to him in the text message, I didn’t want to talk about it because it was making me sad. And NYE shouldn’t be sad, it should be fun. I wanted to enjoy my friends company. Little did I know that he had taken up a whole chunk of real estate in my brain and I couldn’t dislodge him, no matter what I talked about, or what we watched or what I drank.

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I learnt that somehow, even though I hadn’t wanted to, my heart-strings had sneakily attached themselves to this man I’d met. Not only had he snuck under my defences sexually. He’d done it emotionally too. But what do I do with this new information?

I spent a lot of time on NYE pretending to watch movies and thinking. I thought about how my last boyfriend had been with me, but he hadn’t been with me. He was there physically, but mentally, emotionally… he was vacant. I may as well have slept with a friend when it came to him. He was sexually uninterested. He was emotionally unavailable. I took stock of my current situation and I saw parallels that scared me.

As a FWB, the fact that Cern spent a lot of time talking to all his other women while we were together didn’t bother me, nor should it have. I had no emotional connection to him. Nor he to me. But with the added fact that I wasn’t spending NYE with him came the realisation that he didn’t have time for me. But that I also wanted him to have time for me. I couldn’t ask this of him. How could I? We were FWB. That would be changing things. He stated time and time again that he wasn’t ready for a relationship. And I thought I wasn’t either, yet this man pulled at me and made me want something I wasn’t ready to want. So what could I do? Where did this leave me? Us?

I didn’t sleep after midnight on NYE. In fact I was awake until 6am. I watched the sun rise. I laid in bed, tossing. Turning. Crying. Sighing. Kicking myself mentally but deciding that I can’t keep doing this. These are the patterns that I’m trying to break. I made a decision in those wee hours, with a hangover that would have killed anyone else and a headache from crying that would have toppled a better person. My decision? I would walk away from Cern.

I finally fell asleep about 7 am. But I was up again about 10.30 am as we were going with my urban family for a drive to a beach down south that was meant to have water clearer than any tropical island.

Having made a decision I actually enjoyed the time with my urban family at the beach, even if it was with a heavy heart, I knew I’d made the right decision. It’s easier walking away from something at the beginning than it is part way through it when you’re more emotionally involved. The water was indeed pristine. We got scared out of the water by sharks 4 times. But we used the boys as shark bait and made them swim at least 5 meters in front of us. Thanks Johnny!

On our drive back I got a text message from Cern.

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He needed to see me. I asked him when, he said that night. I got a bit confused, aren’t you staying with your other friend tonight too? I thought you were? He said no, he was leaving there to see me. He needed to see me. The urgency of his text messages caught me. Ok I said. We’re driving home now. It’s a 2 1/2 hour drive back to Sydney from Jervis Bay. We’ll be home about 7 – 7.30 depending on traffic.

I got a message from him saying he was at my place at 7 pm. I said we’re still on the road and that we’ll be there soon. We got home about 7.30 pm that night. As Johnny and I rounded the corner of my apartment I saw him sitting on the floor outside the door of my apartment with his laptop propped in his lap. The image made me smile genuinely for the first time in the last 24 hours.

He looked frazzled. Sitting there like that. And the knowledge that my insides were happy at seeing him didn’t pass me without me noticing. But I was more curious about what he wanted to talk to me about and why the urgency in needing to see me when he had established plans with someone else.

So I helped him inside the apartment…

Watch this space for part 2.

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Also don’t forget that I’m doing Kinky Q & A again now guys! I’ll missing this week but will post up questions next week. So feel free to email me : spankalicious.co@gmail.com or through my contact me page up the top!

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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15

Hello little masochist. A little bit of pain on a Wednesday night…

Wednesday night was an interesting night for me.

In a myriad of ways.

We had a gathering, at the Sydney Rope Dojo space for a friend who is going back to America yet again.

Said friend and I had a date a while ago to get together and have a bit of a pain session. However after meeting Cern and the fact that I haven’t been able to stop bleeding has meant that I’ve had to put it off with him, which was a bit disappointing for us both.

On the bright side though he did approach me at said party and said that he wanted to use the dragon tail on my breasts.

What’s a dragon tail? Hmm. This is what it is… It’s pretty much a strip of cut & rolled leather. That bites so nicely when flicked just right.

And me being me, jumped at the chance and nodded my head enthusiastically at him. Yes, please!

So after a while I wondered to the back room and he saw me and wondered over with his leather toy of choice. I grinned and bent over, tipping my head back exposing my boobs. I grabbed a tit in each hand and held them up so that he had a platform to aim at.

The first few times he hit home. I swore. The next 10 hits landed in a variety of areas, from my nipples which caused a reaction of ouch!!! that stung so badly, especially after having my nipples chewed on all week, they were already tender so when I copped a flick to the nipple my eyes watered. I may have done a wee bit of my ouchy dance and taken a few more hits to my nipples before I ran away to take a breather. Those nipple hits were killing me.

I ran back sheepishly. This is why people tie me down. I run away when the pain gets too great and will come back to position eventually. Some find this endearing. Other’s just want to beat the hell out of me without having to chase me down. However he smirked as I walked back into the room and again assumed position. This time I pulled my breasts out of my shirt and bra and used my fingers to cover my nipples so that any hits landed on them instead of my nipples.

Before long he cracked a good one on my finger and I nearly cried. And then said maybe I’ll move over into the light a bit instead of staying in the darkest area of the room. His aim improved drastically once we moved into the light and I didn’t dance, run or jiggle at all but stayed put and enjoyed every single hit that landed. Some had me sucking in my breath quickly, others had me moaning as I exhaled. Oh pain, how I’d missed you.

Before long my breasts were starting to look a bit red and weepy and we stopped. It wasn’t the longest scene in the history of play that I’d ever done however it did open the door to my remembering how much I do love the sweet pain of it all.

I think what I love more is that with the pain comes an act of suffering that most don’t understand. The art of actually not being tied down, or chained up and still holding position. Mentally it’s so hard because every nerve cell in my body is screaming at me to run from the pain. Yet the mental challenge is staying. He told me to stay, so I stayed.

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I know I’ve written about the art of suffering before, or maybe I’ve touched upon it for how it relates back to my submission. But I think that’s another post in and of its own.

For now, the draw was for me was willingly staying put, even when this evil man was doing horrible things to my breasts and not running away. Plus after a while the burning pain started to radiate through my entire body and the sharp bites from the edge of the dragon’s tail didn’t make me flinch anymore… instead I moaned and wanted to lean into the hits. To offer more, expose more, give more…

However in a roomful of people I only offer so much. That type of exposure I tend to do in private, especially in a pain play situation. So I held off, I pulled back and after giving him a happy grin and nod, he held off too.

15 minutes of play. Red bleeding, weeping breasts of pain and delicious agony.

I have a scab on my cleavage from where the wounds are starting to heal. I can’t stop touching and running my hands over my welts and blood blisters. I haven’t had such pretty marks in a very very long time and I’m delighting in them.

Cern seemed to find this all very interesting and maybe even bizarre. I don’t think he’s fucked many masochists. For someone who says he isn’t into pain, he’s coming around to enjoying watching me suffer for him though. He says it’s because of how much I enjoy what he does to me, so for him it’s about pleasuring me and not about causing me pain. The causing me pain is a side effect of watching me enjoy said pain. Which is an interesting way of looking at it to be honest.

For me, my sadism is partly about making sure that my bottom is suffering for me but sometimes it’s not about them and it’s about me wanting to hurt them how I want to hurt them and them taking it, breathing through it, sweating through it, crying through it and still meeting my eyes after the pain recedes to show me that they are with me, they are ok, they want more…

Isn’t it funny how different people process things differently? My sadistic side to his… I find it endlessly fascinating.

And he’s found spots on my arse that hurt. Like really really fucking hurt. My sitting down now requires great concentration from me because my arse bones are right in the two spots that he squeezes like he’s squeezing lemons. No bruising but he pinches the muscle to the point that I’m squealing and nearly crying from the pain of it all. Little does he know that if he told me to stop moving I’d hold still so he didn’t have to fight me while I tried to run away. But I’m not giving him that nugget yet… although if he reads this I’m done for.

I also got offered to have a friend of mine hurt me when I wanted it, which is nice because I was starting to run low on sadists and he would be perfect. Especially since he gets that it’s not a sexual thing for me, but purely the pain power exchange. So I’ve been seriously considering his offer.

Plus I have a date with Daddy in a few weeks, although that one is causing me some trepidation. However I think I just need to talk to him about the few anxiety causing issues I have and we should be set to go. We haven’t played in well over 4 years, so this reunion is going to be a whopper. In some ways I can’t wait. I know he can’t, he keeps sending me texts saying how much he misses my tears that I cry for him and that he can’t wait to shove my face into a pillow while he hurts me so that I get smothered in my own tears. The man knows how to work me up, that’s for sure. So the whole meeting has me on edge. Nerves because it’s been so long since I’ve done anything like this and anxiety because he’s changing the boundaries that we’ve played in for the last 10 years.

You know that saying? When it rains it pours? I’m feeling a bit like that at the moment.

WARNING: Clicking the more link here will bring up some pictures of my ouchies from Wednesday night and earlier from Cern. If you don’t like seeing welted tits, don’t look.

Boobs of deliciousness under here, click it, you know you want to!

51

The Sex Files: When it all goes to hell in a handbasket. Bad sex.

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You know it right? Those moments where you groan, not moan, you groan and wish he’d come already so you can ask him to leave.

Ever have those moments? I had one not long ago and it turned me off sex for a whole week. Then I had to organise to fuck a few men in rapid succession to make sure I erased that horrible horrible night from my memory. But every so often, it comes back. Like heartburn.

And thanks to the two lovely lasses over at Turning Lamebos into Rainbows who started this whole ball rolling and a certain someone’s been riding my boobs about my post, so here you go Goaty, this one’s for you.

It was a dark and dreary night…

Oh who the hell am I kidding? It was about 4.30 in the afternoon and I was rabidly horny and just got home. So I called out to my housemate to see if she had plans that night. She said no. I said I was thinking about bringing over some guy from an adult fucking site to do me and she said she’d join me. So we searched and this one guy reached out to me. He seemed nice enough. He said he was kinky. At this point I didn’t really care how high his IQ, I was wondering how high his penis would get. So I said sure, come over. I’ll meet you down the street at 6 pm. Yes I work fast.

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8

Bad Girl Blogger Awards – No, it doesn’t vibrate, I checked.

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I got nominated for this award twice this week and haven’t had a chance to do anything about it, so thought I would spend the Sunday where there’s a huge heat wave across Sydney that’s melting the roads to update my blog since I can’t be outside. I may as well be inside playing.

So a huge shout out goes to Marian – Over at Creative Noodling. She’s a downright doll and awesome to read her antics. I definitely would love to have a margarita night with that woman. So if you haven’t read her, go do. She’s naughty in all the right ways, promise.

The second nomination came from one of my favourite boobs people, Goaty – she of the wonderful Turning Lamebo’s into Rainbows, or at least one half of it. NU (Nonsense Unicorn) is just as cute, so go check out their blog. Shoo be off with you.

Now since Marian offered me the award first I figured I don’t need to stick to any rules. I think we’ve all worked out that I’m a pro at breaking the rules, especially if it earns me a spanking.

But in light of the award I thought I would offer it up to a few other bloggers that I think deserve it:

Sex and the City of Light – Roxy is a world traveller who details all her dating ups and downs as she traverses through Paris was her last stop, she’s now in my hometown of Sydney and causing riot. Go read her.

Becoming HIS – this is the blog of a fellow kinky blogger who is just a sweetheart to read. She writes erotica (which is totally hot!) and blogs all things kinky, sexy and meow.

Sex Blog (of sorts) – is written by Charlie who writes things that make me sit up and take notice, not to mention her sinful Sunday posts? PHWOAR! Go read her sometime.

And finally and not least of all: Seattle Poly Chick – I can’t remember how I found her blog, but gosh golly am I bloody glad I did. For someone like me who has dabbled in poly and gone from open to closed to I don’t know what we’re doing – her blog is a refreshingly honest account of her journey. She’s reminds me that poly isn’t meant to be easy, we all have our demons and loving isn’t and shouldn’t be something I should be afraid of.

And I’m going to take a slice from the Marian pie and say congratulations ladies!! You don’t have to do anything with this award but wear it proudly. If you want to forward it on, do, if you don’t, let it sit on your shelf like I am letting mine do and lament that one day maybe we’ll finally get a vibrating one.

21

Sex and vulnerability – missing pieces.

I’ve had some interesting conversations of late with someone whose input I’ve come to love for the differences in our perspectives and the way we approach things. Some experience, some insight and a different perspective have brought into clarification something that I had been missing.

The new FWB, he needs a name. Let’s call him Cernunnos after the horned god.

During our very long and very very extensive coupling a few days ago I’ve gone over and replaying a lot of things that happened. Which is a good thing, a lot of what happened was fantastic and wonderful and joyful and orgasmic in so many many ways.

But during all this, Cernunnos decided that during our last love-making of the night, he would rock me steady and sure with long slow strokes. As he did this, with my head buried in his neck and shoulder and his head buried in my neck was that for every orgasm I had in this position, I felt a layer peel off me exposing something I haven’t purposefully exposed before. For every roll of our hips I felt a bit of my armour shatter and crumble. Somehow this great big beast of a man was exposing parts of myself I wasn’t aware that I hadn’t been exposing before. If he’d kept going I was pretty sure I’d have cried. And this, from the woman who used to scoff at all those women in films that cried during sex because it was so emotional.

Something clicked in that moment. I was grateful we didn’t keep that pace up and going for longer than we did. I wasn’t and still am not sure I’m ready to face that kind of vulnerability with just a FWB.

But what does this all mean? 

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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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