snowylinenland: (Default)
Because I didn't log it earlier, a revelation:
The Canadian got me off! On Monday night. Himself as well, of course :)
And it was splendid.

Things that did it:
- Fucking in three sessions, spread out of the course of an evening together at his.
- Lots of discussion about how he wanted to be touched, how I wanted to be touched. What turned on us on. "So when I do this, this does something for you?" "Oh yes, yes, that does". This led especially to my directing him ("you should play with my nipples now, and feel how I get wetter"), and to him trying things that I told him would get me off (biting me already).
- Ferocity. I don't know if it's our dynamic, or something he does more broadly, but my basically roughhousing with him - fighting him off, blocking him, trying to flip him over - totally totally a turn on for him. Specifically, he gets off on pinning me down and physically controlling me...which I'm totally okay with. Which he now *knows* I'm totally okay with as well, which may help.
- Equally, he's finally understood viscerally that I do have *quite* something to contribute - my arms on his body, grabbing his ass, guiding him in, setting the pace and changing the angle when he's on top. When I've said I wanted him, I meant it. That does mean buried deep as possible in me; that does mean he can pick me up and shift me, and I will stay on his cock. Not a problem (and totally hot).
Interestingly, I think I may have taught him something new (or just discovered with him something new about us) - that my riding him, a sexual position he stated didn't do much for him, totally does do something for him. It's just a question of finding angles that work well for both of us, of pinning him down and kissing him, biting him, of getting his hands on my breasts. So yeah, he does like being fucked by me, despite him thinking he didn't...
- Experience? I'm probably more experienced than him (despite him having 9 years on me), and certainly in better physical and emotional shape than him. When discussing endurance/the experience afterwards, he noted that he'd figured I could 'go longer' than him, and it's true. I do think he's got a better sense of what the advantages of that are now, though... (That the longer he can draw it out, the slower and sweeter I'll fuck him, and the better it will get. This became very, very clear Monday night.)
- My coming. Only from his cock, and from being held very tightly to/around him, and from being partially crushed by his body - pushing my constraint buttons. It bodes well, especially if it's repeatable. He said he was daunted by the notion of my needing two points of contact; I hope it becomes clear that's not something to be daunted by.
- He thinks my touching myself while he fucks me is hot, which is good, because I certainly think it's hot.
- He babbles inaudible fierce sweet nothings about how hot the experience is, how hot I am, when at the heights of ecstasy. I'd love to have been able to hear the details of what he was actually saying... (Hurrah for finally breaking his own emotional control, though.)
- When asked what especially worked for him, one of the things he specifically mentioned was feeling emotionally close (beyond my being physically glued to him, wrapped around him, holding him as tightly/closely as I could.) This makes sense; we have an easy, comfortable relationship that's never been discussed or acknowledged as an ongoing relationship (which is my problem with the next point), but it's clear we care quite a bit about each other. We send each other 5-30 emails a day; we don't keep our hands off each other when we're together. We're not in love, but I don't see any reason for us to stop doing what we're doing. I'm certainly still comfortably fascinated with him and the way he interacts with the world.
- no condom. Wonder how much that actually affected this; it's certainly my preference, but slightly worrisome doing that with two people. (Need to have a chat with D about this.) Also only something I do with partners I'm in an ongoing relationship with with huge amounts of trust. (Will need to point this out to the Canadian, probably leading to a relationship discussion.)
- New factoid: spanking. For him, it's the sound that he likes. I'm fairly apathetic, but since he clearly responds well to the opportunity to produce this sound, I will be encouraging him.

He's back in the country on Sunday; I leave for three weeks on Thursday. I would be thrilled if we got at least another night like this in before I go.
My other conclusion is that my boy is quite possibly just kinkier and more emotionally conservative than I was expecting - vanilla sex alone doesn't distract him enough (drive him sufficiently to a fog of lust) to avoid a freakout, while casual sex may just not be a thing he's interested in or capable of doing at the moment.
snowylinenland: (Default)
Sex party again this weekend. Took D along with me. On my period (oh terrible timing). Saw use of a violet wand demonstrated (beautiful); other people engaged in rope play, knife play, bondage, and lots of group sex.
D basically didn't do anything with anyone, I snuggled, handjobbed, pulled hair and kissed. Both of us somewhat limited by not knowing most of the people there, and me in part because I wanted to keep my underwear on (because bleeding on other people's furniture is rude). I'm not sure what would have encouraged him to engage with others; I'll need to ask him. Maybe more explicit introduction of him to other people, or discussion beforehand encouraging him to fuck others? Maybe fewer drugs on his part?
Discovery of the evening: people fucking with my feet while I'm engaged in an explicitly sexual act (sucking off D's gorgeous beautiful cock, playing with his exquisitely sensitive nipples, teasing him with light stroking on the sensitized nape of his neck, pulling his hair, massaging his hip bones - as always, this beautiful beautiful boy is built for fucking). Anyway, playing with my feet when I'm doing some sexy apparently transcends immediately ticklish into straight-up intense, turning-on sensation. Who knew this about my body? Not me. Most people sucking my toes has left me neutral. ("That's nice, dear, and I appreciate you going near my feet at the end of the day, but please consider either massaging them or licking something erogenous.")
Gentleman in question has a foot fetish; started with stroking, licking and sucking calves, soles and toes, proceeded into full on fucking his mouth with my foot (basically giving a blowjob - wetly sucking and squishing, licking and flicking, delicate biting), and eventually to doing all of the above while scratching the soles of my feet with his fingernails. It was the scratching that pushed the edge of my pain boundaries (he drew blood), and took this from merely pleasurable into incredibly incredibly intense. I nearly came from this, which is absolutely unheard of. D is covered in bite marks from my response to my foot being played with; I believe he rather enjoyed my spasms with my mouth on his cock. (Other option is that he felt slightly left out of the proceedings? It's possible; he absolutely wasn't where my attention was, though it was because of my interactions with him that the foot thing was immediately sexualised.)
The attention to my feet was at times too painful; trying desperately to wriggle my foot out of his grasp while still basically going down on D was an interesting, interesting experience. It felt like he was drawing blood, which was beyond my pleasurable sting boundary into outrightly painful - I switched feet on him at that point. (It was very very good, but my left foot really could not take any more.)
Later: snuggled conversation with D about our relationship, my relationship with the Canadian. Very good, I think, though worth checking in with D about (again. Also because I don't know how much of it he remembers.) Two nights of falling asleep, and sleeping through the night, spooned the lengths of our bodies. We sleep so well together, he and I. A comment was made at some point about us being on the same wavelength, and it feels very, very true (on so many things. Weekends together seem to leave both of us ultra relaxed, happy and mellow and content and continuously, liquidly post-orgasmic but still lustful.)
D has learned now that I respond well to being bitten while being fucked; hopefully he'll put this to good use. Other discussion point: he feels like he's topping me when fingerfucking my ass while fucking me. He feels utterly in control, partially because of just how quickly I lose it and come - I can see why this is a turn-on for him. Though I can just come from his cock (we did have one very sweet quickie that saw both of us coming from PIV contact only), two points of stimulation (nipples, clit or ass...or hey, maybe feet in the future?) do seem to make it much much easier. (He needs two as well, so that feels balanced).
My ass also seems to be getting more used to being a point of sexual interest - D fingerfucked me in the shower on Sunday, and that too was unexpectedly delicious (coupled only with kissing; no further contact. Hot spray on me; he'd stepped out and dried off, with only his hands and tongue touching me.)
More BDSMy explorations intended for the future, we decided.
Finally, thoughts for some other day on submission and pushing boundaries. My boundaries are set quite far out; they are historically been further than my partner's anyway. And I do like pushing my partners' envelopes as well. (Discussion with S last night* about topping from the bottom being rude; I do it because confidently stealing control, hijacking the situation to introduce new levels of awesome, is something I really really rather enjoy doing. I also don't really interact with people who would view this as rude, though perhaps I will in the future.) I do like people to outwit me, push me, restrain me - but there are very few boundaries I really fear, and an awful lot in the margin up the boundary that I do rather enjoy. Drawing blood on my feet apparently did hit a boundary; I felt he was doing it, and that was a disconcerting sensation. He swore he wasn't; finding the scabs on my feet this morning was useful confirmation that even tipsy and distracted, I do have a sense of how intact my skin is (and how intact I'd apparently like to keep it.)
More specifically, drawing blood is one of my boundaries. J did it while going down on me at the party in December scratching my ass; at the time, it felt deliciously deliberate on his part, and I loved being marked the next few days. My feet was unintentional, but did make me uncomfortable.
Good to know, in any case. Ditto for foot sensitivity.
Finally, D has yet to leave a mark on me; nothing like the marks I leave on him each time. He knows how much I enjoy it now; hopefully he will next time...

*I have permission to snog her rotten next time I see her, yay! Hurrah for more kissing of girls, especially S! I feel the need to include a row of smiley emoticons here, except I do have some taste. But yay! :-D
snowylinenland: (Default)
Weekend of exhausted sexual glory with my Oglaf boy
New insights:
-we seem to have similar food/sleep/fucking rhythms. Crowning joy was a mutual nap Saturday afternoon, post lunch - to bed at 13.30, awake again after 17.00. Curled up against each other, drifting off together.
-D has proclaimed "I'm not ashamed to say that this is the best sex I have ever had in my life". He's one of my best, for sure, but this also make me worry for his fiancee.
-He's discovered, which I didn't know either, that jamming one or more fingers in my ass while he's fucking me with his cock the size of my wrist (so astonishingly beautiful, this boy) that I come, pretty much instantaneously. That I flood him, despite his size. That I lose all my studied control of my volume, and mewl and whimper and growl. And that if he keeps it up, I'll come over an extended period of time.
This is a massive turnon for both of us; he gets off on feeling like he's fucking me in both holes (and the way I pull him in) - I get off on pure sensation, including a very thin edge of pain due to his size. At this rate, he will be spoiling me for sex with anyone else, ever...but I just don't want him to stop.
-I've worked out that one of the things I find really really attractive about him is a core of intensely understated self-confidence. He doesn't really ever reference it, but it's there. He has one past tense story of a career choice failing, and a lot of past tense stories of his body failing him (he has a chronic illness), but right now, things are going really really well for him.
-The boy makes me happy. I love his self-entertaining take on life, his efforts to interest me in Eve, to share things with me he thinks I'll like. (Japanese binocular football? Pandemic 2? Yes.) And I love how turned on he is by me, how beautiful he tells me he finds me, how fucking hot.
-We didn't count this weekend. It wasn't going to be necessary or pretty...after we reached 4 (or was it 5?) the first night, after I picked him up from the trainstation at 19.00
-As described to a friend tonight, "Oh, I wore this coat to go out with D. I love this coat (which I don't wear very often); it makes me feel like a rock star. Actually, D makes me feel like a rockstar."
-Yuppie breakfast together on Saturday. So so wonderfully domestic; I've missed this pace of life, the joy of fresh bagels together with your lover on the weekend.
-Comedy show on Saturday night, where we made out nonstop, and got a photo of us flashed on the main screen at some point.
-I like walking through this city hand in hand with him. I like checking him out on the bus; this most gorgeous man who's going to come home with me.
-Next up: seeing him soon. More quiet contentment, horrendously awful jokes, and a boy who brings out the darkest humor I can muster, and raises me one. And sex that leaves me incoherent jelly, exhausted but smiling furiously, the sheets ruined. (Sleeping on them still tonight as a trophy.)
snowylinenland: (Default)
On the train home now from a weekend with my Oglaf boy, who continues to be a constant source of joy and delight: easy, comfortable and fucking hot, patient and persistent, thoughtful and well-mannered, quick-witted, filthy, and delightfully abrasive and absurd in his sense of humor. And just such, such a good kisser. Also: such, such a good fit once I'm stretched so he can fit; the fit of his cock in me, the feel of him against me, especially when I'm playing with his nipples, is just such a turn-on. His cock makes me come, which is the best possible surprise; his cock also puts me in intense, not-quite-coming, not-quite breathing ecstasy. Our fucking leaves me drenched; I've spent the whole weekend wet, dripping; I don't remember anyone who makes me so consistently so so wet.
And consistently it was: we fucked 12 times between 15.45 Friday and my getting on a 16.48 train on Sunday. 4 times to orgasm for him on Friday; two times for me; and one late night we're-so-tired-we're-too-clumsy-to-fuck-but-oh-so-turned-on fumble. Saturday morning before breakfast, once but sans orgasm. Saturday afternoon, we wandered around a modern art museum; he fingered me in the center-of-the-gallery film display, my sitting discreetly on his lap, and equally discreetly suitably attired. (Stockings and miniskirt? A winter coat to carry and cover my lap with? Works a treat.) We then took a ride on the Ferris wheel we happened to stumble across; and got a good minute of fucking in at the top of the arc. Absurd, but very very hot. Another location to add to add to my list...
Home, fortified by cake (he baked me cake! Sweetest boy ever!), of course we tumbled into bed, the afternoon's constant touching and teasing, too-intense-for-a-public-space kisses and quick gropes - and of course the speed fuck - all building to there being no other place on earth to logically be, nothing else we could possibly do. Two intense, efficient fucks in rapid succession, the first one exhausting us, the second evolving from our languid (and then signficantly less languid) postfuck cuddle. I made him come, for the first time in his life, by being ridden.
We cannot spoon with me as the small spoon without him becoming aroused, rubbing his hands on my breasts, along my stomach, the curve of my hips, kissing my neck, the weight of his cock building against me.
He cooks, I've discovered. Two quite successful dinners. He cuddles well, during a few hours of a rather funny television series; one non-serious enough that I can get distracted by kissing him, his seeking lips, that lovely bit of metal part of my kiss.
Fucking that night abandoned for exhaustion, the boy sleepy.
Today. Morning. Me, bleary, then awake and fucking. Made him come from a blowjob, also for the very first time in his life. All your toaster points are belong to us, I think...
Two this afternoon. One to say goodbye, then showering and packing, and then one because it would be the best possible use of half an hour, and I didn't actually need to be on the train I'd planned to be on...
Me: "I've been impressed by how well we've clicked.
Him: "We've always clicked, we just didn't know it yet, because we didn't know each other."
A few points of concern:
The intensity of his fondness for me. We had a chat, and have agreed that we are lovers. We are not friends with benefits, this is not a one-off thing. But he seems very, very fond; I've left him a bit of my Lush shampoo bar, because he wanted something that smells of me.
Fucking yesterday evening, he stated he liked the position because it made him feel like all of me, all the length and depth of me, belong to him, was his. "Like you're all mine". He's not mine, and the notion of him and his fiancee fucking on our soiled sheets this evening because she gets off on him fucking other women - this is hot stuff. Because those sheets are very, very soiled. My concern: did he check with her, though?
My appetite for him is currently insatiable, this beautiful reserved boy who comes like he's headbanging; his lipring, curiously, reminding me that I'm kissing him, uniquely him, the specific insistence of his kisses unique to D.
But while my appetite is insatiable, my enjoyment incessant, I'm not in love with him. He's emphatically not mine; he's emphatically far away; my ability to go home again is part of what makes him so appealing. He's not as high energy as me (though he's now introduced me to a lovely TV show, and tried to teach me a new computer game), but overall, just lovely company.
Has the curious effect on me of making me want to tell him embarrassing emotional truths I've never told anyone else before. Apparently he often as this effect on people?
And vice versa, he asked at some point how everyone who met me wasn't in love/lust with me; I was so obviously compellingly hot.
So hoping he's good about making his girlfriend feel safe and loved, and despite their current comms problems.
....
And now I'm writing filth on a crowded train, my seatmate politely engrossed in his book, or so I'm assuming.
snowylinenland: (Default)
My new experience of last weekend: being rimmed by the boy. No one had ever attempted it, and if it hadn't been a total surprise, there might have been more prep hygiene wise. He face did smell when he came up, which isn't ideal, but I wasn't going to complain. This also marks the first time I've enthusiastically made out with someone who smells of my feces.
I'll happily do so for him, someday (in ten days when next I see him?) if I'm convinced we're both clean. As it stands, he generally tends to consider getting wet a good proxy for getting clean, and I beg to differ before I rim him.
Otherwise, it was....interesting. Very intimate, and intense insofar as it came right after very very nice head. Almost ticklish, very sensitive at least. Not bad. As I told him, what turned me on the most about it was the notion that he should want to do this to me, which is damn sexy (and reinforces my feeling that this is an intensely bonded relationship.)
His new experience last weekend? Having someone play with him and a vibrator. Apparently all vibrators in his life to date have been for exclusive use of his female partners, which is nonsense. He liked it. Liked the combination of hands and vibe more, and mouth and vibe was best, especially when that became only mouth. It was good.

My best memory of the weekend so far as the State of Us is concerned? Waking up still drunk at some point in the middle of the night to shift positions slightly, and having him wake up just enough to initiate a small eternity of serious making out--snogging for all the world like he'd been aching to kiss me for hours. This leaves me radiant. Our sex keeps getting better, too.

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April 2012

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