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)
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)
Firstly, Europe is covered in snow. It's snowing outside as we speak, the outside world made silent by it. It's beautiful.
Next: the Canadian.
He paid me a compliment this morning, for the first time in the +/- 1 month he's known me. He likes my new haircut; it looks good messy in the morning.
Observed from sleeping at his last night (my train was broken; he didn't seem to mind my calling to ask if I might impose): we wake up snuggled together. We don't roll away from each other in the course of the night. I love it when I have this dynamic with someone, even if (as I suspect with him), it's the result of being woken up in the night to reposition, and therefore light/bad sleep overall.
He claims I grumbled at him in my mothertongue in my sleep at some point in the middle of the night, when he left to go use the toilet - and then apologized in English. Apparently it was cute.
It's the first time in years someone's reported that I've done this; I used to do this my first year of university. No clue what the implications of this are.
Finally, we suck at sex. Or more specifically, he does. Last night's unexpected end to sex? He'd managed to scrape his knees up playing basketball (how?), and then ripped them open again fucking me, and then caught sight of his own blood and freaked out. And then spent 30 minutes freaking/apologizing to me for sucking at sex/apologizing to me for sucking/beating himself up. And then got hard again and fucked me some more, eventually leaving a serious quantity of horrorshow bloody streaks along his sheets - gory enough to disconcert me. Maybe someday his fucking will be enough quantity wise (the quality is quite good, if inconsistent), that it'll get me off...but so far, the boy has not succeeded. Has not really come close. A more consistent feature of fucking him is my attempting to comfort/console/soothe him after he has a freak-out over something.
But I do enjoy spending time with him, and his oh-so-snuggly body, and his lovely sense of humor.
But coming home wanting to masturbate, because it would be nice to get off occasionally? Disappointing. (On that note, my plan for later tonight...)
Finally, we had a brief chat about a) what we're doing, in response to his joking 'Oh, that's my fault for dating an [my profession]'. The answer: dating is a convenient term to refer to our ongoing relationship including intimate encounters. Emotional affirmation? I will clearly not get it from him verbally. (Though the way he buries his face in my neck, or bumps noses with me while looking into my eyes, feels like there's some affection.)
And I've brought up the poly thing - he now knows about D in explicit terms (I'd mentioned him in passing before, without explaining my relationship to him), and I've lightly asked for him to keep me abreast of anyone else in his life, plus what role they occupy. (D, as explained to the Canadian, is for fun, and then he gets handed back to his fiancee.) I feel like I've made my minimum required disclosure - it would be nice if he did his. Also, if I had more agreement from him that he would tell me of anything else going on, which he so far hasn't. But we've affirmed the principle of both of us seeing other people, which I appreciate.
Conclusion with him for now: I enjoy that he's there. I will continue to enjoy him when and as appears appropriate, and when he's available. In the meantime, I would like to/need to focus on my own friends and work and life. He's shiny, but perhaps less blinding now. No orgasms and no ability/motivation/? to talk about his own emotional state do tarnish his shiny a bit...
Which won't stop me from touching myself while I think about him...


Jan. 31st, 2012 12:46 pm
snowylinenland: (Default)
The Canadian just said I "must be made of magic".  I guess that's a compliment...
(Even if he still hasn't said anything about liking me personally in any way at any point; though people who've seen us together assure me that 'oh, he's massively into you.  You can just see that.')
He has been exceptionally attentive since he came back - it feels a bit like he's decided he's going to give this a go, or maybe even like he missed me...except he hasn't said that either.  Even my "I like the way you touch me" got a "I like the way you feel[?] my touch" in response.
Sex with him continues to be not functional - two attempts yesterday (but with a good turnaround time!)  The first, he came in <5 min (disappointing, though our discussion around it was quite funny); the second, he had to stop because of pain from cracked ribs (can't say I blame him, really.)  But he really is the best snuggler I guess that's what I'll settle for.  Too gentle a kisser, too gentle in his touching of me, except when he picks me up and moves me to somewhere.  (Feels like he's been very oddly socialised, which we might actually have to have a chat about at some point.  Who both pins a partner down, pulls a partner's jaw into a kiss, flips them over...and then gives head that I can barely feel at all?)
For his part, seems he gets off on being touched very very gently, especially around his neck (oh, his ears! licking them does amazing spasmy things to his breathing), and that's as far as I've gotten in learning about his body.  Oh, and likes having his ass grabbed, for sure.  His back stroked, too.
But yes: we peoplepile together very, very well.  We kiss and nuzzle very, very comfortably.  We fuck...less well. With chemistry...but perhaps with no context?  I don't know if that's the problem.
Conclusion of last night: he's fun (skilled!) to cook with.  And he thanked me repeatedly for having him over, that he'd had a wonderful time. So I guess that's okay...
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.


Jan. 25th, 2012 11:59 am
snowylinenland: (Default)
The Canadian has left a thumbprint bruise on my upper arm - I'm sure completely accidentally. It might even cause him worry, were he to know.
I'm really really enjoying it.
I like the visible mark he's left on me. Visible spoor of where I've been and what I've done. He's touched me emotionally, this is just a visible manifestation.* Like a transient tattoo, a physical symbol of something intangible in the other aspects of my life. (Who I choose to spend my time with, and how.)
My view on marks, written out for D on Twitter following the December party:

(Also, someone's left deep scratches on my ass-loving the way I feel them each time I sit, stand, climb stairs, etc. Loving feeling marked.)

My marking love stems from long distance relationship: journeying back to your real life w/ physical markers is the best possible feeling

So yeah: bring on more D marks this weekend, and let's see where the thing with the Canadian goes.
(He's emailed me from day 2 of his ski vacation - my first response is to get giggly - but it's with a photo of a snowy hill, and a factual reply to a work-related link I sent.)

*Lest that sound a bit metaphysical: left to my own devices, I leave my partners exhausted and bruised. Your body is a map to how you spend your days; I prefer mine be filled with joyous fucking, on a regularly basis. Ferocious fucking, with teeth and heedlessness. Muscles you didn't know you had being sore, bite marks and bruises? These are good things to discover afterwards. No precision, no holding back. (I would say no restraint, but that's not actually true...)
snowylinenland: (Default)
Of the past two weeks' weird infatuation, and the exchange of over a hundred emails in two weeks? A strange feeling of loneliness now that the boy's on holiday. He's gone; there will be no emails from him; nothing to look forward to. At its most extreme, nobody cares how my day's going (really well, thank you!) Though I may revert to using Twitter/FB/friends for exactly that sort of communication. But I can see why that degree of attention (me to him, him back to me) can be seductive - no wonder he might not actually have formed an opinion on whether he likes me. Instead, he's just jumped down a rabbit hole with me.
snowylinenland: (Default)
don't say you need me/don't say you love me/it's understood...

Date with the Canadian for last Monday: cancelled due to illness on my part. Crashing at mine Thursday night, and date Friday night: very much achieved.
Points he has conceded:
We snuggle very well.
We sleep together very well.
And "thank you for making me feel comfortable", after he broke off sex midway to somewhere interesting, supposedly because his body was done. ("The spirit is willing, the flesh is weak.")

State of play:
Me: still fascinated. Felt midway through the week that he was human enough* for my fascination to be ebbing; actually seeing him, my fascination continues. The poor man must be acutely aware that anytime he gets close to my crotch, I am by that point dripping for him, though neither of us have discussed sex.** We have discussed how much we enjoy kissing each other, how well we fit together spooning. I'm still being slightly more aggressive than him - I'm the one complimenting his appearance, his smell, narrating my enjoyment of him. I feel a bit like I'm still easing him into the idea of having a relationship with me, of liking me, of spending time with me - that, and like there's some baggage I know nothing about, but where being gentle and understanding and patient is helpful and appreciated.***
He still hasn't said anything about liking me (in enormous contrast to D, my Oglaf boy, who thinks I'm liquid sex and tells me so), but has replied in response to my fishing for his turn-ons that so long as I keep being witty and charming with a great ass, there shouldn't be any problems.
But despite the lack of second person singular pronouns, he initiates emails and responds to them; he asks how I'm doing and tells me how he is. He's grumpy about my only being available late Thursday, and grumpy he has to work late Friday. He screwed up his schedule Saturday because "I could sit here and make out with you all day", though eventually we left (him thoroughly late.) He'd rather talk/kiss/fondle me than sleep, even on a schoolnight.
Since Friday, I trust that he's not going to disappear without an explanation, this stranger off the internet I met for the first time 14 days ago - and have met up with three times since, each time for a full night.
We've fucked so he came once now, Thursday night. Very vanilla, not very interesting to me, and he came quite quickly. I didn't at all, and he neither asked nor really tried. My enchantment with him waned significantly because of it...and then Friday, things got more interesting. When he's not being very very gentle, when he's given permission to be rough, or even when he tries something just to see how I'll respond - things feel like we could learn and build astonishing sexual chemistry. He puts hands on my neck near my windpipe. Pulls me over. Picks me up. Eats me out with wondrous patience, roving fingers. His arms are long enough he can reach my clit comfortably while kissing my lips, which is an interesting phenomenon. Before he broke off, it seemed like we'd found a way to fuck that really would have worked for me - he's small enough his cock will never hurt me (unlike D, who's mathematically difficult to contemplate) but still big enough to be meet my minimum requirements. This cock size means that he can grab me, shove me, move me WHILE FUCKING like a metronome. I so want more of this, especially the application of his (wise, methodical, deeply humorous) brain to both of us getting off. I suspect my getting off will not be a problem in the future.
He's gone - vacation, offline - for a week now; he's promised he'll give me a call when he gets back. 'Ciao bella', he signed his email with. So impersonal, so tempting to read as something special, meant for me.
And I'm still full of longing and lust; I want this man viscerally, even if it makes no intellectual sense and I'm not sure what I'll do with him if I get him.
Depeche Mode's 'It's understood' was stuck in my head Weds-Fri; it feels very very accurate, including the slightly creepy bits.

And at some point, I need to tell him about D, but I feel like that should come when he and I have a discussion about the ongoing and iterative nature of our interactions, the acknowledgment that we are having a little-R relationship.

*The boy has some interestingly masochistic, dumbfuck remove-yourself-from-the-gene-pool traits. Not things normal people would think to embark on, or tolerate once having embarked on the course of action. Stories that would case worry in anyone sane. The boy has also been (is still?) far far far more of a stoner than I have ever been, wanted to be...or have patience for. Adventure Time? ( Not at all something I can deal with sober.

**This is not quite true. We have talked around it. We have talked about rough sex, and his awareness that I quite like it. I have pointed out to him that I enjoy biting; he has agreed that he does as well, and referenced his (outrageously cautious, gentle) nibbles on me as an indication. He's worked out that I respond well to his repositioning me - his ability to pick me up, move me, brute force me to where he'd like me to be (though I don't think he realizes yet quite how much I like it...and realistically, I probably don't either. He's that much bigger than me or any of my other partners that there's probably all sorts of potential here that I will like A Great Deal.)

***I'm going to guess it's related to other current or past partners; there's definitely something holding him back. Whatever it is could still very much be a problem for me, as well, depending on what the problem turns out to be. Trust issues 101?
snowylinenland: (Default)
This boy: wonderfully filthy, and he listens. Just received a Twitter request to pack stockings when I visit him next week, so that he can fuck me in his city's internationally prestigious modern art museum. Oh yes, that can be arranged...
Also: the memory of his nipples. He's one of the very few men with sensitive nipples, and it's delicious. He's built for fucking. Extra happy buttons, and I adore him for it.
snowylinenland: (Default)
So the thing with drunk boy has been building since November; it's been planned since December, with great joy. The other thing ongoing since November, but seemingly not building, but rather not going anywhere at all:
My Canadian penpal.
First emailed on OkCupid on November 5, because he looked larger than life, and like he would tell amusing travel stories in return for a nice beer. It seemed like an obvious transaction. Maybe a new friend. Someone to hang out with casually. At the very least a boozy night out with someone who'd been places and done things. I can appreciate that. I'm good at that. I'm good at being fun to hang out with.
...and he didn't bite. We exchanged 43 emails between November and January. Each time I gave up on him in frustration, planning to let the exchange die, because clearly he wasn't going to meet up with me for a beer, at all, ever...he got back in touch. "Hey stranger, how've you been?"
When I persisted, I persisted out of stubborn curiosity, because of the absurdity of having acquired a local penpal I wasn't actually interested/invested in. He even became a running joke amongst my friends - he was clearly married, children, the lot.
And then the first week, he finished an email with:
"If so send me a text and let's finally seal this deal lol." (No comment on the internetspeak.) And so we starting texting. And then, out of the blue - he started flirting. "Well yay! Putting it up front: I may try to look down your top. Benefit of being tall." So I ran with it - I am a *good* flirt. I can flirt with anyone, including ridiculous tall Canadians who won't meet up with me. (Cue: 'I will /win/ this game').
What also became clear from the texting: he doesn't answer direct questions. And I'm more verbose than him. But he's very funny, and we had good conversational chemistry, in multiple languages. That was okay; I enjoyed that. I was even pretty excited about it, albeit skeptical he'd actually show, right up until the moment I actually met him.
That was seven days ago.
We met. My first response: "I'd hit that". Tall, shaved head (two rather big buttons of mine), otherwise presentable...and warm. Such warmth. Bear hug in hello. He speaks slowly, but in a way that makes me want to hear more. Hanging onto his words. That first long afternoon and evening: touches while talking, fun over food, surprise discovery of great wisdom in the good humor, easy loping fast walking together, sensible approach to my requiring my bicycle come along, a second pub, more beer, more talking, my touching him unnecessarily, my needing to leave to go do something, us kissing. Fun. Slightly strange position to be in. Enjoying this stranger, but was the kissing necessary? Fun anyway. Afterwards: impressions of great height and great comfort, intense warmth and wisdom, and so easily stereotypable. Canadian country boy. Jock. Absurdly tall. A laundry list of attributes, some amusing to me, some attractive, all entertaining. Probably significantly more socially conservative than me.
The next day was Monday. Somewhere, amidst some emailing in the course of the day, I was very direct and asked if he'd like to meet up again. The answer: for sure.
Tuesday-Wednesday. Emails have grown to 20+ a day. Such banter. The next day I'm available is Monday again (tomorrow) - which is eons away, when on Tuesday he suggests we meet up Wednesday.
20+ emails a day, Thursday and Friday. He's not a stereotype anymore, but 3D. And someone I like. Someone I find fascinating. Potentially dangerous to me. Pushed a lot of my buttons, and with interesting, considered perspectives on topics discussed...including both of us being poly. And single. He continues to be a brilliant penpal.
By Friday, 'smitten' seemed like a perfectly reasonable word for me to use. Certainly fascinated. Enthralled. Obsessed?
This is out of character. Unusual, to say the least.
By Friday, it was clear that I was still leading this discussion (as had I the OkCupid emails), but that he was responding very, very appropriately. Asked him at some point for an explanation of what he currently found attractive in females, and the description does suit me...but he has not once said he finds me, personally, attractive and compelling. The occasional comment about cute women. This is still a point of concern.
By Friday, I've found that by pointing out pointblank that he's evading direct questions, he can be provoked into answering them, though he doesn't spontaneously do so of his own accord. (But perhaps my interest is just that much greater than his - likely, as my interest seems to be limitless.)
His Friday night plans fell through, so he was added on to mine. Cocktails with friends - he behaved superbly. A gig with friends. He was snuggly and attentive. Funny or broodingly quiet. Lots of grinding dancing, lots of kissing. Constant touching. Caring, solicitous, cute. And I went home with him, abandoning my bicycle (terror and anxiety), for a very short night of storytelling and making out. Some sleep in each other's arms. Still no compliments, or statement of interest on his part, but an explanation of him being purringly happy to have me there, of not wanting me to go in the morning, of him feeling very comfortable with me there.
Warm fuzzies in my stomach even now, writing about it. It seemed like deep mutual contentment.
Memory of his face in mine, making muted growling sounds while nuzzling me. Memory of how intertwined we spent the night, the different ways we fit together, given the difference in our size. Memory of his story of the art on his walls, his story of an experience that nearly killed him. Memory of him insisting on walking me to the station so I could make my early Saturday appointment, walking hand in hand in sunshine. Memory of us stopping so he could explain the type of frost the street was covered in. Memory of the coffee we'll have some other day, because I no longer had time.
Dear reader, over the course of the last week, I have hurled myself at this man. I don't have a clue why this man, why this week. And he's taken it with seeming pleasure, except that I am still unclear whether it's just the attention, or me specifically he's enjoying. This is a source of concern to me; he's a serious emotional liability at this point.
The current plan is to see him tomorrow night; we'll see if he cancels. We'll see if we spend the night together somewhere. I would like that very much; I am for some reason utterly infatuated with the tall Canadian, and I don't have a clue why, or what course I am trying to maintain speed on.


Jan. 15th, 2012 11:17 pm
snowylinenland: (Default)
Just spent my weekend with a boy who looks like he stepped out of an Oglaf strip. Tall, slender, beautiful, cock the size of my wrist and proportional. Gorgeous, funny, very sweet, super company, always horny-and the best part is: I got to send him home to his fiancee. Every other story he told was about her, or something they did together. It was absolutely adorable.
And being the fantastically boundary-pushing, continually surprising, cheeky cheeky boy he is*, he's tweeted this review:

Just had an amazing weekend with @[me] . Smoking body, amazing kisser and simply wonderful company. An absolute gem.

Luckily, it's a locked account. There's only 30something people who will read that; I know maybe 10 of them. As for the rest, I guess they now know something about me...

(Also: hells yes on the kissing. We spent so much time this weekend kissing. It'll be weird the next time I kiss someone without a lip ring, which will probably be...tomorrow! But that's the next post.)

*This is the drunk boy I snogged at the party in November, the one who caused me to notice I was physical contact starved, and then notice that when contact starved, I don't ask questions in advance.
snowylinenland: (Default)
The drunk boy is telling me the sexy dream he had about me (last Monday!) tweets. 140 characters, scheduled to be published once an hour until the story is over. It's an astonishingly effective way of focusing my attention on each passing minute, turning time into molasses, and completely interrupting any concentration I have near 5 past the hour (when the next one appears.)
Hottest use of Twitter ever.
snowylinenland: (Default)
So I mentioned I'd been texting with the drunk boy? That's turned into direct messages over Twitter...a lot of direct messages over Twitter. 81 since December 1 - Twitter won't show me any further back than that.
So in short, I've totally made a friend - and perhaps someday, a lover. He's absolutely delightful--witty, quippy, and wise, pleasingly deviant of mind. He's also solely responsible for my feeling more desirable and desired than anyone or anything else in months. And part of it is the medium, as well.
As he put it:

I can be quite patient. I like to have things, but i like anticipation and build up too. I don't often allow myself to get excited ahead..
..of time. But I want to in this case. And well, actually, the flirting the slow drip drip of fun. The lack of control. The uncertain nature
The unknown time till reply. Loving it. As I said, very reminiscent of adolescence. Without any awkwardness :).

We've agreed we have no time, either of us, til January...we'll see what happens then. At the rate we're currently going, we'll be uncontainable, insatiable, ferocious. And as it sounds, very very compatible...

(Make that 82 messages now.)
snowylinenland: (Default)
So while I'm here anyway, some thing that have caught my attention recently:

-Party last night, where I kissed the drunk boy, I also had a really interesting discussion with a woman who was a pro-top, not a pro-dom. The distinction really really resonated - I'm a bottom, but I am emphatically not a sub. I'd even say I'm an easily bored and bossy bottom - if I don't like what's happening, or it's not working for me, then I'll absolutely intervene and make it more interesting for me. It's best when my partner is also getting off on what's going on in some way, and I'll do everything possible to accommodate them getting off, but my interest in either psychological power play, and especially humiliation, is pretty damn non-existant. It's phenomenal to finally have words for my little corner, as I experience it. So while I'd love to find someone to play with who will, say, tie me up and fuck me (or even not fuck me), I've no interest in being told I'm a naughty schoolgirl who's pissed off daddy while it's happening. Cue righteous feminist rage at that...

-Texting with the drunk boy! Very exciting, even if it's unlikely to lead to anything, as he lives far away, and is as complexly partnered as he is. And I know nothing about him. But he's stated that future snuggles could be available, which is very attractive in my current frame of mind.

-Poly. Ran into Kitty Stryker's post on poly people (, and specifically the quote "I was polyamorous for a while, until I realized that I'd have to date poly people, and I don't have enough Vicodin for that". That does sum up my problems with the whole scene - most of my love life has been carefully organised to avoid all drama, and especially in people I'm emotionally attached to. I've got so many better things to do with my time. So her definition as non-monogamous, rather than poly - that makes so so much more sense. Equally, I've recently met a couple that describes themselves as 'classical swingers' - they're both allowed to play with other people so long as the other partner is involved in some way. That's also way more attractive to me conceptually than conventional poly relationships (certainly as I've experienced them. I tend to be fairly single-focussed when in love with someone, while still being up for random sexual adventures. It just fits with my wiring so much better. And I'm much happier with there being some discretion in my sex life - an open poly label would probably bother me immensely. It's been one I've avoided in the past, no matter how many people I was dating.)

-Absolute horrified two weeks ago to discover that when I dumped L, I put all of the fantasies that he'd slotted into (basically anything involving a sexy, willing, adventurous partner I liked and trusted) in a box and slammed the lid shut. No wonder I was so adrift, especially in my masturbation, the last few months. I wouldn't/couldn't enjoy my own favorite fantasies. It took going on a group bike ride with a bunch of dedicated cyclists to force my attention to the fact that 'Oh, yes, I do perve on cyclists' (and one guy very much in particular. Gorgeous gorgeous ass and legs, gorgeous titanium single speed.) I'm appalled I'd jettison nearly all of my fantasy life as part of a damage limitation exercise *without even noticing it at the time*. I've been slowly letting cyclists (and the sorts of adventures I, um, enjoy) back into my fantasy life the past two weeks.

-This slamming shut of my sex and fantasy life as a damage limitation exercise also explains my current fuck buddy, who is wonderfully satisfying in bed in an ultra vanilla way, but who I only jumped into bed with because he's deeply deeply emotionally unthreatening to me, going so far as to be really unattractive to me. But he's enthusiastic and adept in bed, and plugged into a mature and happy swinger's scene, which seems to have socialized him in ways I appreciate for a fuck buddy of mine. (Heck, he even used one of my lines on me: "Now, you're not allowed to fall in love with me". No chance, buddy, but it's very sweet.)

-And finally, so long as I'm reviewing all of my previous assumptions about my sexuality, I'm now also reconsidering my bi-ness. I'm definitely more attracted to men, at least so far. There's a reason I've never slept with a lady (and not just because I find them intimidating). I really really enjoy men, however. I've been invited to an orgy in two weeks that will be largely ladies, which will definitely be my first, into the deep end exploration of the lovely times available with ladies...and I have to say I'm really really looking forward to it. I'll report back when it's over...
But for now, maybe some variation on hetero-flexible is a more useful label...or queer, since I do find androgyny hotter than most other things, and I do have those 3 years of dating genderqueer people, without being bothered by it. (I'd do so again, except that I'm not currently interested in supporting the probable mental health issues that will come with that, which makes me an utterly horrible person.)
snowylinenland: (Default)
The other epiphany? Skin hunger (and subsequent act first, ask later behavior) is exactly why OkCupid gave me the raging slut label, which I've always slightly resented. But yeah, OkCupid's advice to remember to lock the door? Probably more apropos than I had previously realised.
snowylinenland: (Default)
This morning's epiphany? I'm starting to get skin hungry, finally...and it's a problem. My basic (quite high) physical contact needs aren't being met, and it's turning me into a vector for social chaos. Kissing the cute drunk guy at the party last night, for instance. He was very cute, very drunk, and very insistent. Slightly creepy, much more flattering. And lovely to kiss. But I asked the wrong question beforehand - I asked if, given his social relationships with the other people at the party, anyone would mind us kissing. He said no. What he didn't tell me til afterwards (til she came and sat next to us), was that he was there with his girlfriend, and that his girlfriend was also dating the hostess, who I don't know very well. Will I ever get another invite from her? I doubt it.
Fuck this.
So I have a perfectly lovely fuckbuddy who works for me, but who I deliberately don't see very often (for to keep that relationship on the right footing, and because he's sufficiently wrong for me that it grates after a bit.) I need more contact. Upping the amount of time I spend with him isn't a solution. More cuddle piles? More people to curl up and sleep with platonically? More people to fuck? How does one procure these again? I haven't had to since, oh, 2002-2004. Hopefully I'll have more social skills now to do this functionally; or know more people who can assist.
In the meantime, I am absolutely 100% going dancing on Thursday; that should help a bit...
snowylinenland: (Default)
Strange to just see two ex boyfriends (who I dated in a messy overlap) in the same wedding photos from last week, for a couple I don't know. The one I haven't seen or spoken to since 2003, that fiercest first love, appears to look pretty much the same. Wicked sideburns. Neat to see a photo of him for the first time since 2004.
Strange stab of memory today: remembering the first time L and I discussed being in love with each other. I'd worked out some utterly nonchalant, quite sarcastic phrasing of how I felt about him that I was comfortable offering him - it didn't say that I'd fallen for him completely. I was just going to love him without burdening him with the knowledge of it; after all, our supposedly NSA fun (as carefully negotiated by me) was going swimmingly - why complicate it? Instead, some late late night, us curled up facing the wrong way in my bed, we drifted off to sleep and then woke up again, and he asked me to explain my too-cool-for-school comment on really enjoying him, us, this. And that's when I told him I loved him - I remember it being wholly scary. I was being very brave, while still trying to laugh it off. And instead he said he felt the same.

Economists have worked out the value of an 'I love you' - it's more than I've ever earned in my life, and probably will. I hope to continue loving/being loved, though. There's nothing comparable.

It being L, as he's turned out to be now, I have to wonder if he did feel the same way, or just felt peer pressured (or as a power game?) to respond the same way. It doesn't really matter; it felt magical at the time.

Moving on

Sep. 10th, 2011 11:54 pm
snowylinenland: (Default)
Well, dear readers, I have now broken the seal on sleeping with someone else post L. The person in question: B, my date of two weeks ago off OkC. I emphatically wasn't planning to, but it was a great decision from a skinhunger/getting laid/feeling powerfully sexy perspective. Our two dates so far (plus two chats) each saw us spend far longer than intended with each other - the first, a museum trip, became nearly 9 hours of museum, lunch, a long walk, a train trip back to the city center. The second, yesterday evening, was meant to be an evening of dancing, and instead became 22 hours of: dancing, late night fried food, talking til 4am, snuggling, kissing, making out, heading to the bed to 'go to sleep', massage, topless massage, more making out, and as the sun was coming up, I decided I was comfortable enough (most important) and did want him badly enough for penetrative sex, despite having said no earlier in the evening/morning (I was dripping by then, though, and the line between what we were doing, naked as we were, and having him in me was very fine.)
Like L, he's a talker - and I'm enough of a listener to get off on it. Words have power. Consider this a newfound appreciation of people who narrate how the sex feels, what they want to do to you next time, how they hope to come. You learn about them from all of it; I need to get more comfortable doing it back for them, since they both appreciated it enormously when I do.
On the sex itself, he's sufficiently well hung, outrageously enthusiastic, and pleasingly experienced. Wants to learn all about my body. So clearly grateful and delighted to find himself being ridden by me - it left me feeling like a force of nature, a goddess, something that was happening to him. Dear readers, I am a good lay. I am a damn fine lay. And I do know it - I can and will knock the socks off of anybody. That's what rebound sex should be about.
He doesn't come easily, nor do I (though I did come the first time, purely from his cock, so hurrah), so I foresee lots of delicious fucking in our future - playful rather than purposeful.
The way he finished himself off is not one I've encountered before: he wanted to kneel straddling me, feeling me fingering myself ("your knuckles pressed tight against my balls"), while he jacked off all over my stomach and chest. I suspect his trouble with orgasm comes from decreased sensation from condoms, but that's the parameters within which we're playing - if he wants skin, then he's going to have to find himself a girlfriend.
Speaking of us playing, what I learned while lingering at his house yesterday and today, snuggled up with him on his sofa: he goes to playparties. He even hosts play parties in his house, with his main casual sex partner, A. He's invited me to join him on any of them, and I probably will. I first got excited about going to play parties in 2002, always intending to go with Bear in fall 2003, but never quite making it. Hurrah for a trusted tour guide to a new world.

By the time we were finished, his sheets were wrecked. His brand new mattress, which I've now helped christen, is far too squishy to properly fuck on - it's almost at waterbed levels of wobbly. We christened his new sofa today - also slightly too squishy for sex (disappointing in new furniture, really), but still very nice feeling overall.
I now have sore muscles at my hips from keeping my legs in the air, sore muscles on my back from being ground into the edge of the sofa, I'm still dripping wet, and a completely fucked sleep schedule. But I'm content, even pleased. This was very nice. I now have someone I can call for guaranteed entertainment and ferocious enthusiasm, the next time I want to get laid, the next time I want to feel worshipped like the sex goddess I am.
And in the meantime, I'll flirt with lots of other people, just because.

Reasons we shall not ever fall in love:
--physically ugly to me. Does not tickle me aesthetically (dressed or undressed, though he's better when I'm not wearing my glasses.)
--very geographically rooted in a specific neighborhood of this city. He owns his flat, he's just renovated it, he's not going anywhere, and would never want to. This boy does not understand wanderlust.
--fiercely dedicated to his career/passions. He's built and sold companies; he's competed at the national level in his hobbies. It shows in his social life, and a bit in his social skills. I'd like to think I work to live, not the other way around.
--Politically deficient. Seems to be completely apolitical (or carefully didn't discuss it because we have opposing politics)
--Aesthetically deficient. His newly renovated flat is a hodgepodge of gorgeously executed ideas with no stylistic coherence. He dresses like he's going on 65; dressed, his body looks like he is, too.
--No food in his house. Seems to live off of junk food and prepackaged sandwiches from the supermarket. Instant coffee.

And just as importantly, I'm not his type. I'm not what he falls for. He asked a couple of times, unprompted, to confirm that I wouldn't fall in love with him, and wouldn't want to marry him. Unless this was some sort of weird reverse psychology, then that's 100% where I'm at. Those are *my* usual stipulations; it's refreshing to hear them come from someone else. Per always, I'm allowed to fuck him because he won't take it seriously - it's a joy to be back in such a situation.
Page generated Oct. 23rd, 2017 04:44 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios