snowylinenland: (Default)
I'm currently at the start of the third of three weeks away; my mother's had a serious operation, and I've come home to be with her. Three weeks away is a long time; my dislocation and isolation here have been enormous. It's also been something I've been worrying about before leaving, and now while gone, especially with regards to my gentlemen lovers.
D, I am less worried about - we've always been long distance, and we do know how to communicate. The timing is not as good, though, here, and my general discomfort has spilled over into our communications, too. (Instead of engaged, excited and exciting, I'm feeling unwell, worried, narrowed in my horizons. It's an all around not-so-good-scene, with the only consolation that my mother's healing well, and this too shall pass.)
The Canadian, I am worrying more about. We need to work out what the current shape of our relationship is after I get back, since it shifted right before I left. (We spent every spare moment together the last 3 days before I left, and it just got better. It seems we do intense well, including breaking my bed twice for the fucking.) The discussion we had my first weekend away (me from the hospital) basically concluded that we meant whatever we are doing very seriously; our time together was *not* casual, and in a sense, nor is our intention.
And then our communication's become haphazard. I don't have anything to report from here; he's become very busy at work. The bit that makes me unhappy is that I know he's also looking to meet up this weekend with someone else he's interested in...and I desire some affirmation of my ongoing specialness, that I won't be replaced just for being far away*. (Even if I'm back in 6 days now.)
What I need from him is more information on how he pursues relationships, on what the implications of our relationship are, on what I can realistically expect might happen for him meeting up with the young lady. Would he take her home tonight if he could? What further views on safe sex does he have? Just how excited about her is he? None of this has been discussed face to face, since he's only introduced the concept of her after I left for this trip.
I need to rediscuss it in person. I need to discover where we're at in person. And I need to keep in focus that I'm currently wanting to lean on him far more than usual (due to being at my mother's), and that he's not meeting my want for huge attention (and love?) may be because that's just how he is, and that I'm normally fine with that. That I'm not now because I'm feeling fragile, but that equally, I just don't have as much to offer right now.
My solution for today: after a peak of "why doesn't he write me back right now?! but I want to talk to him now!" feeling, I've written him a note giving him my best wishes/blessing for the weekend, and let him go. He'll get back when and how he wants, and I won't need to look for it til it comes in. It's a question of trusting that when he said on Wednesday that 'we matter' and that he missed me, it probably still held for Thursday and Friday, and will for Saturday as well. And that that's all okay.

And sleep now, because I know I'll feel better in the morning.

*The sociopath I dated last year progressed his relationships with the other women each time I left; part of the point of the current polyamoury is to be comfortable with what I'm leaving behind when I leave. Seeing someone else when I'm away, though, is as close to a giant button as I could have - I just haven't put it to the Canadian in those terms, because I've wanted to see what would happen, and I've wanted to make it work because it should, not because the stakes are high for me.
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.


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April 2012

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