Lego sex. Also: I haz a sub.

I should be getting to bed, but I just wanted to quickly talk about one of my harem members – the newbie sub I met through FetLife who charmed me with his good attitude.

A week or so ago, he treated me to a night on the town, after which I ended up crashing in his hotel room (he lives in another city and I’d said I didn’t feel comfortable having him over yet).

Once we were in his room, a certain amount of making out happened and (as usually happens with dudes lately) I ended up naked while he was still fully clothed (I love being caressed, and if someone is making my skin feel good I want them to have access to all of it).

Turns out this guy is a cunnilingus aficionado. And not in the way so many dudes are – he’s in it for my pleasure first and foremost, listens to direction, and can apparently keep going for a long time (his personal record was an hour and nine minutes). When he first asked permission to head down south, I gave my now-standard spiel about being on antidepressants that make orgasming difficult and blah blah blah.

Actually, I felt more cautious than usual telling that to this dude; he seemed like the kind of basic, meat-and-potatoes guy who maybe wouldn’t know much about mental illness and would stigmatize me as crazy/broken. But when I made my little confession, he said “Well, in the interest of full disclosure, I too am on antidepressants and have trouble orgasming.” I felt like that Warner Bros. cartoon with the wolf and sheepdog – the one where they’re both wearing layers and layers of costumes and peeling them off, and just when you think they’re all off, the wolf peels off one more layer and is the sheepdog underneath, and vice-versa. I high-fived him.

But anyway, he gave me a whoooole bunch of oral that I think might actually have gotten me off had I not been on meds (and nobody’s managed to get me off by mouth in years). He was fingering my g-spot, too, and I don’t know if that made me emotional (sometimes g-spot stimulation makes me emotional for some reason) or if I was just really, really happy to finally find someone both willing to go down for extended periods and good at it, but I asked him to take a little break and then unexpectedly burst into tears. He handled it well – he asked with a bit of alarm if I was okay, and I said yeah, and then he held me close until the worst of it was over and then asked if I wanted to talk about it. I tried to articulate my thoughts as best I could, but really I’m not totally sure why I started bawling like that. I forgot about the thing where my g-spot can make me emotional until a bit later though. Like seriously, this huge cryfest may have been purely a brain fluke caused by the way his fingers were inside me.

After a bit he asked me if I’d enjoyed the oral sex, and I said holy shit yes. And he asked me to confirm that it was still fun even if I didn’t come, and I said yes, absolutely. And then he was like “Well, as long as you’re having fun…” and went down on me a whole bunch more. Contrast this with The Pedant, who always says he wants me to come but then doesn’t remotely do anything that would get me there, and the annoying guy from a little while ago who went down on me quite well but seemed to lose interest in it once he realized I wasn’t going to come (even though I told him it felt really good and I was enjoying myself).  (The Bunny, meanwhile, no longer offers oral sex to me and politely declined to give it the last two times I asked, which is a different but equally frustrating issue.)

I do not like when someone approaches sex with me as though I’m a Rubik’s Cube to be solved and put on the shelf as a testament to the user’s skills. I want someone to approach sex with me as though I’m a bucket of assorted Lego pieces: there are a million possibilities for making awesomeness, and no end goal except having fun.

Anyway. Round Two of oral sex made me go all emotional again and I asked the boy to stop. Actually, he’d got me turned on enough that I was feeling really toppy and when he came up to kiss me I said “you are giving me the violence” and grabbed his throat while we kissed. Soon I’d rolled on top of him and was biting/slapping/kissing him while he said just about the most crazy-hot things I could possibly imagine…how he wanted to be mine. How he wanted to submit to me and give his body over entirely to use however I liked. How he’d suck and fuck another man, even, if I told him to. It helps that he has (what to my mind is) a really sexy voice.

The making out kind of wound to a close of its own accord (although the boy was considerably more naked by then) and we just kind of lay around talking. I found out that we both hate our dads, and for pretty similar reasons. Also that the boy’s mental health went seriously sideways last October such that he checked himself into the psych ward. My response to hearing this was “That was a really brave thing to do” and I meant it.

He actually wrote me on FetLife the next day asking me to please not think he’s damaged goods because of the psych hospital thing, but I don’t. My ex-husband was an alcoholic and I was the one who realized it and told him; he took no steps to get it treated. Minx was wracked with anxiety and ADD issues and I was the one who realized it and told her; she took no steps to get any of it treated. This boy? Figured out that something was wrong on his own and aggressively set about fixing it. I’m sure you can imagine how disappointed I’m not. :D

Also? Helloooo, I too am clinically depressed (and hate my dad). If the boy is damaged goods, then so am I. Also I like it that he can understand my issues, “damaged” or not.

But anyway, back in the hotel room…I was beginning to think all this “I want to serve/please/be owned by you” stuff wasn’t actually bullshit.  The boy wasn’t giving me the pushy vibe that so many “subs” have, and not because he was wishy-washy – he has particular kinks he’s interested in, he’s not one of those guys who’s interested in some generic idea of “kink” without knowing what any of it even is. He just really does seem to want to let me lead, and to make sure I’m happy above all else. And he listens to me. And he remembers little things I’ve said and preferences I have. And our kinks match up well.

And so, when we were drifting off to sleep and he asked if he could be my sub (like, as opposed to “some guy I’m seeing who’s a sub”) I took a leap of faith and said yes.

Just to put this in perspective, I have never officially declared someone my sub before, even after seeing them for months. It never felt quite right. With this boy I agreed to it on our second date.

I hope my instincts are correct.

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Re-banging The Pedant, Part 4

Recounting this is actually starting to bore me, but there are some things I want to chronicle, so I’ll try to wrap it up quickly.

There was a while when we were lying around just dozing/talking. I will say this: the way he snuggles still totally undoes me. In that way, his body still feels like home to me.

Anyway he asked me if my primary partner makes me happy, which seemed sweet and protective (and possibly jealous?) to me. And he said he found it really flattering that I made a move on him when I already have a harem going on – I replied that although The Pedant was not a good choice for me as a main partner because he didn’t provide the amount of attention I need, it struck me that perhaps he’d be okay as an adjunct. I actually did come to that conclusion a while ago, but I wish I hadn’t said it just then because honestly the sex had been such a comedy of errors that I was no longer thinking in terms of doing it on a regular basis. I was actually kind of thinking it’d be nice if he left soon so I could get a snack and watch some cartoons with the cats.

It was probably then that The Pedant said something like “I presume we’ll be seeing each other on a regular basis, then?”

I hedged and said “maybe. I don’t know.” The thing is, I’m still attracted enough to him that I’m not sure we could hang out without me wanting to make a move. But making a move would lead to bedroom stuff, and the bedroom stuff is problematic. It did not occur to me at the time that The Pedant may have meant “seeing each other” as in dating again, not just hanging out. I had failed to communicate at the outset of the evening that I was coming at things from mostly a “closure” perspective and not an “I’m over the past hurts so let’s date again!” one. I think perhaps The Pedant assumed this was the latter.

He said “Well, more than once a year, anyway?”

“Well, yeah. Probably.” It would be nice to be in contact with him a little more often. And maybe I can have a talk with him so he gets better in bed, or maybe I can get to a point where we can just hang out friendly-like.

The Pedant said something about getting together sometime to talk about the communication issues that broke us up. He said he knew we’d kinda hashed it out via email at the time but it might be nice to really sit down and discuss things. I love this idea, whether The Pedant and I keep on sporadically fucking or not. It would be glorious to hear him say, in person, that he cared about me and didn’t mean to hurt me. In retrospect I think what The Pedant meant was that if we’re going to start up our relationship again we should have a clean slate/discuss the shit that went wrong the first time/etc. Shut up, I take people’s words too literally and I was really underslept and stupid at the moment.

After a while, The Pedant suddenly rolled on top of me, kissed me deeply, and said “I want to make you come.” Oh god I hope he’s not gonna go down on me again, I thought. He didn’t, thank god. He made out with me a while and then slid inside me, still going on and on about wanting me to come. Cool story bro but I have never come from penetration alone and I have mentioned this to you fucking twenty times before.

But fine, whatever. If he wanted me to come, I’d see what I could do. I grabbed the Hitachi and turned it on; The Pedant lifted his body so I could get it between us. And then started jackhammering me really hard and fast. If there’s penetration of some kind going on while I’m trying to come, I like it gentle until I’m right at the edge – only then do I want to be pounded. The Pedant’s jackhammering distracted me from the clitoral stimulation and actually drove the Hitachi against me hard enough to kind of hurt, but I knew it would be pointless to say so (or at least, that he’d ignore gentle course corrections and the only way to make him listen would be to go “OKAY, STOP. I HAVE THINGS TO SAY, MOTHERFUCKER” and I didn’t want to be that confrontational). So I stuck with it for a while. Sometimes if I focus hard enough I can still orgasm, even under suboptimal circumstances.

By the way, hours before when The Pedant began to go down on me I told him that I’m on meds that mess with my libido and make it difficult to come. I told him I might not be able to get there at all that night, but that it was still fun doing stuff so please do proceed with the oral sex. So not only was The Pedant setting out to make me come via his magical dick when clitoral stimulation is the only thing that gets me off – he was also making my orgasm into this huuuuge important focal point/end goal of our activity when I’d already said that orgasming is extra difficult for me these days. But hey, no pressure.

And then it got so much worse. He slung my legs over his shoulders (I have told him repeatedly that I can only come with my legs straight and relatively close together*). He kept deliberately making purring noises in my ear, apparently because he thought it would turn me on. He inexplicably kept shushing me and/or covering my mouth, even though I was barely making any noise. At one point he lovingly whispered “Ssssssh…come as hard as you want.” I guess he assumed I wasn’t coming because I felt inhibited and needed his permission? Except if I was feeling inhibited then why would shushing me be a good thing? …At another point he murmured “There’s a good girl” which rubbed me the wrong way like whoa (my orgasms and arousal are for me, dickwad, not to please you) and was also completely nonsensical because I hadn’t moaned or done anything else that might indicate I was getting close to coming.

I have to say, I was so, so tempted to fake an orgasm just to make this all stop. The Pedant had painted me into a corner by acting like his entire sense of self-worth rode on my orgasm while simultaneously not doing anything that would legitimately have gotten me there, and as I said, I didn’t want to have a huge confrontation about this. Especially since I’d let it go on so long; he’d wonder, and rightly so, I guess, why I hadn’t said anything sooner. Faking would have made the entire dilemma go away like magic. But I will not fake orgasms on principle. The Pedant already sucks at pleasuring me without me actively training him that his shitty technique actually works.

So finally I said “…Huh. No, sorry, I think I lost it” as though I’d been close to coming but was just having an off day or whatever. The Pedant understands the concept of having an off day (i.e. not being able to orgasm “just because”) and will immediately back off without taking offense. It’s weird that he understands not being able to come for no good reason but can’t seem to understand not being able to come because he’s doing entirely the wrong things, but whatever.

I turned off the Hitachi and set it aside, and The Pedant abruptly dropped all pretense of being a sexually aggressive manly-man out to make me come – he took my legs off his shoulders, stopped saying annoying toppy shit, kept fucking me (but at a more leisurely pace) and then came. I think I may have gotten myself off a few minutes later via Hitachi but I can’t remember anymore.

As we lay there in post-coital snuggles, The Pedant started offering to do a bunch of stuff for me, just like he did when we were going out. It’s like a switch was flipped. All the favours turned off the second we broke up, but suddenly: “Hey are you still having trouble getting to sleep? I have this great CD of white noise  that might help – I’ll burn it for you.” “Did you ever get that Braun CruZer electric razor you wanted? We’ll have to see about getting you one, then.” Etc. I know he does nice favours for friends, too, not just people he’s fucking, so it makes me sad that he apparently didn’t consider us to be friends after we broke up. We said we wanted to remain friends. Admittedly we didn’t really talk or hang out, but for a long time when we were dating, he never talked to me or hung out with me unless I initiated it. Seems like a double standard that he told me, back in the day, that a lack of small-talk texting didn’t mean he didn’t like me, but when I stopped texting him he assumed it meant I didn’t like him. Well, whatever.

He finally left around 7am, assuring me that we would talk soon. I found myself wanting to text him, like, immediately – but stopped myself. Yeah, we fucked, but the fucking wasn’t that great for me and I don’t need his validation. Also I wanted to hang back and see what he would do. I didn’t hear from him until two days later, when he sent an “It was good seeing you the other night” text. I said “Likewise.” The next day I initiated a brief conversation re: whether he felt a yeast infection coming on because I sure did. He said no. Later, having learned some things, I told him my friend Kaija’s input that it was probably his semen that threw off my pH balance, making me yeasty. He said that made sense, and took the blame. I made a slightly cutesy/flirty remark about his environment-disrupting penis that he could easily have responded to if he wanted to keep the conversation going, but he didn’t.

It seemed like he assumed, when we hooked up, that my physical overtures meant we were back together…and yet after a brief, formal “that was nice” text and some talk of practical matters, he’s acting exactly like he did when we were broken up. As I don’t want to be dating him, anyway, I’ll just leave it at that.


*Actually, I’ve managed to orgasm during Hitachi sex once or twice with my legs wrapped around The Bunny’s waist, but that’s a relatively new thing. Also, The Bunny was doing everything else just the way I needed so there was only the one difference to accommodate.


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My lady-parts are feeling a little “off.” Like I may be getting a yeast infection. I haven’t gotten one of those in years and my first thought is that maybe it’s somehow because of all the sexual activity I’ve had lately, but I don’t think that’s actually a thing that can cause yeast infections. Urinary tract issues, sure, because penetration can smush bacteria up into the urethra. But I think yeast infections come from an imbalance inside a person’s body and can maybe be spread by fucking someone else who has one, but that’s it. Someone correct me if I’m wrong; I’m too lazy to Google right now.

It could be The Pedant specifically who caused this, since I started feeling the incipient itch a day or two after we had unprotected sex. I’ve texted him asking if he’s feeling yeasty at all (he’s had yeast infections before so he’d know what it feels like). No answer yet.


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Re-banging The Pedant: Part 3

It’s getting harder and harder to remember the sequence of events – The Pedant and I were romping around for like seven hours and I was running on very little sleep so even at the time things probably seemed a bit blurry.

But I think we got to making out again and The Pedant went all passive with his hands flung up next to his head so I went ahead and clipped the cuffs back onto the headboard. I resumed jerking him off and after a short while he whispered “Mistress…you should restrain my legs.”

Which…huh. I appreciate that he was trying to cater to my dominance, but (as with everything else he does in bed) he didn’t think to ask me how I liked it. I do not like being called “mistress,” I find it jarring for someone to act like I’m their dominant when we haven’t discussed it, and if someone is submitting to me I’m really not keen on them couching what they want as something I “should” do. I would have liked it much better had he simply said “Please restrain my legs.”

I let it pass. I clipped the ankle cuffs back onto the bed and kept jerking him off. For a little while I tried teasing his frenulum with my Hitachi, then jamming the Hitachi hard into his taint. “It’s too much!” The Pedant gasped, so I stopped (see how that works, Pedant? One person gives feedback and the other one listens).

So I went back to regular ol’ handjob stuff. Then I got bored and my fingers were gross and pruney from lube so I said “I want you to jerk off while I watch. Which hand do I need to free?”

After a long pause – shyness? Regaining his composure enough to speak? – The Pedant said “the right.”

I unclipped his right hand and spent a while kissing/groping The Pedant while he touched himself. I wish it were a little brighter in the room so I could have seen him better, but I’d opted not to have the bright, glaring ceiling light on, and the Christmas lights wound around my headboard had burned out a few days before. There was only the light of a single fake battery-powered candle to see by. I could just barely make out The Pedant’s hand moving languorously up and down. He jerks off more slowly and delicately than any guy I’ve ever seen, handling his cock with practically just his fingertips. I’ve only seen him touch himself once before, and not to the point of orgasm, but I’d really love to witness that sometime. When I’m the one jerking him off he has me do it slowly the entire time, up to and including climax. This is completely counterintuitive to me. I think one of the reasons I find it so hot is that it seems more…luxurious. I mean I know it’s just him doing the things he needs to do to get off, but it looks more indulgent then when a guy pounds it like he’s trying to get the chore of masturbation over with as fast as possible.

Annnnyhoo. At length, the sight of The Pedant touching himself (however poorly illuminated) got my motor running and I lay down next to him and hauled out the Hitachi, figuring I could have the kind of stimulation I wanted (instead of The Pedant bludgeoning my junk to death) while gazing upon some delightful eye candy – and maybe The Pedant would even get off, too, without me having to spend more effort on it. Win-win-win.

But I’d barely begun with the Hitachi-ing when The Pedant murmured “You can take me bare if you’d like. I couldn’t say no to you right now…” Meaning I could have condomless sex with him like in the good old days.

To be perfectly honest, although I’d craved this at the start of our little liason, I’d since kind of soured on the idea. The way he’d repeatedly hurt my genitals earlier while trying to get me off didn’t exactly make me feel super-intimate with him, y’know? But I have a bad habit of trying to store up sex the way a solar panel stores up energy – like even if I don’t need the sex now, maybe I could somehow use it later. I know it doesn’t work like that but old habits die hard. And come on, when am I gonna find a younger dude with a vasectomy again? It kinda felt like this would be my last chance.

“Have you had any new partners since me?” I asked.

“Yes, but I always use protection with them. All one of them,” he corrected himself, with a self-deprecating little chuckle.

I paused for a moment, thinking it over. “I want you on top,” I said finally. And I set the Hitachi aside and undid The Pedant from the bedframe.

He got on top and used his hand to fumble himself inside me (I think he maybe wasn’t all the way hard at the moment). He was completely in silhouette from my angle. I wished I could see his face. He began to thrust. By then I was less interested in the penetration itself than in hearing and feeling him come, finally. I mean, I’d been working at getting him off for hours by that point. But really, The Pedant’s orgasms were always my favourite thing about going bareback with him. He always came exponentially faster than he did when we used condoms; it made me feel powerful, irresistible, that that simple touch of skin-on-skin would set him off so fast.

I fingered The Pedant’s nipples as he thrust, trying to overwhelm him with pleasurable sensation. “I’ll come if you keep doing that,” he murmured.

“Gosh, that would be terrible,” I said, smirking.

“I don’t want to come just yet.”

“You want this to last?” It genuinely hadn’t occurred to me that he’d want to drag the process out. I figured three or four hours of buildup would have had him champing at the bit…or too chafed to want to continue for long.

“Yes…I love being your slave like this…”

Oh, is that what he was playing at? That we were having intercourse because I wanted to use his cock for my pleasure? Alright then. I mean he was the one who asked for the sex, but whatever. It felt unnatural to hear him call himself a slave, though. I seriously doubt he was actually thinking of himself as one – just pandering to what he thought I wanted. I appreciated the attempt but the execution fell flat for me.

Incidentally, The Pedant was tossing “I love”s around like confetti all night. “I love being inside you” “I love the way your lips feel on me” “I love being your slave like this” etc. I’m fairly certain he still has feelings for me, and still can’t bring himself to say “I love you” outright, so he gushed about how much he loved the sex we were having, instead. I used to do the same thing with him, back in the day. But I don’t have those burgeoning feelings clamoring to be let out anymore. Even when I was enjoying things the other night, I had no urge to say I loved anything. None at all.

Anyway, The Pedant told me he wanted the sex to last a while because he loved being my slave…and then came literally one thrust later, with a sharp cry and full-body, wracking sob-like convulsions. Seems like he hadn’t wanted to come yet, but was just so turned on that he couldn’t help himself. OMFG hot. So very hot. I do not understand how an apparently pretty powerful orgasm can just sneak up on someone like that, but hot.

I rather enjoy postulating that he came because the idea of being my slave actually turns him on a lot, and verbalizing it set him off. But I don’t actually believe this.

More later.

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Re-banging The Pedant, part 2

So. I attached The Pedant’s wrists and ankles to the corners of my bedframe and we kept on making out. He was still not fully hard (oh hey – that’s probably why he gave me “my turn” first – whenever he has erectile difficulties he deflects by focusing on me so ferociously that I hopefully don’t notice. But I do notice…).

And, y’know, I don’t especially care that The Pedant sometimes has an uncooperative penis. I’m good with just touching him and making him moan without any big end-goal in mind. But I think he feels like the end goal is supposed to be his orgasm, whether he actually wants one or not, and he’ll never admit that it’s not gonna happen; he’ll never give me explicit permission to, like, kiss and touch him for as long as it’s still fun for me, and then we can just go watch NetFlix or something. So I end up flogging away at him for hours until I’m actually sort of bored. But if he really is desperate to come and  just having difficulties, I don’t wanna be all “bored now” and stop; that would be rude.

Anyway, as I set out to see how much I could make The Pedant swoon and whether I could get him hard, I remembered that he used to like his taint pressed on, back in the day. So I started doing that, and it got an even stronger reception than I’d remembered. And, interestingly, his responses seemed to raise in pitch and urgency the further back my fingers went, so that I ended up rubbing my lubed fingers right up against his asshole for quite some time.

Then I think he got hard enough that I could ride him, so I put a condom on him and did that for a little while (fully expecting that he wouldn’t come; this was me getting the stimulation I wanted). His erection faltered soon after though so I dismounted and went back to teh making out/nipple play/asshole-rubbing.

After a while I said “Tell me what you want” both because I was at a loss (he was clearly really enjoying what I was doing, but it wasn’t going anywhere and I was beginning to feel trapped in limbo) and because I just flat-out like hearing him articulate his desires.

The Pedant did his usual (and hot) thing of taking a few moments to be able to form words; he gets really immersed in physical sensations. Once he’d surfaced, he murmured “I want you to penetrate me.”


Oh wow.

When The Pedant and I first talked about anal penetration, he said he’d tried it before and it did nothing for him, so I didn’t push the issue (although I secretly wondered if his previous partner(s) just didn’t do it right…like just stuck a finger straight in without targeting the prostate, for instance). Then one time in bed he asked for it, which startled and aroused me to no end, but afterward the consensus was “Nope, sorry, it was worth a shot but I’m still not into it.” And I really thought that was that. But now here we were again.

And so I ended up kneeling between The Pedant’s spread, cuffed legs, sliding one gloved/lubed finger into him (my god he was so tight…more so than I’d remembered) and jerking him off. For, like, ever. At one point he actually asked me to go deeper inside him, which was such a turn-on OMG. I got him right on the verge of coming several different times (and god, the way he squeezed my finger when he was close to the edge…) but he never quite went over. I think he asked me to go deeper still but I was already pushed into him so hard that I was basically taint-punching him with the rest of my knuckles, so there was no “deeper” to go. I did however tell him I had a toy he might enjoy (the Njoy Pure Wand, which The Bunny also enjoys taking far more deeply than my fingers can reach). He said he was open to that.

So I went and washed the Pure Wand, and ran it under warm water for a bit to heat it up (it’s made of stainless steel and would feel quite alarmingly cold on someone’s innards otherwise). And then I returned to the bedroom, lubed it and slid it fully halfway into The Pedant’s tight little ass – maybe more. I find it slightly awkward to wield the wand because it’s curved; I have to keep remembering that the part that’s inside my partner is at a steeper upward angle than the part I’m holding in my hand, and compensate accordingly. There was an adjustment period as the two of us figured out how I needed to hold the thing and whether I should wiggle it, thrust it, or not move it at all. But then the handjob resumed and once again he was right…at…the…edge. Moaning desperately and bucking his hips and sort of fitfully pulling against the restraints.

But I couldn’t get him over the edge, and then he needed a bathroom break so I withdrew and unclipped the cuffs from their moorings.

When he came back to bed, we snuggled up and I think even dozed off for a bit. Somewhere in there I said “So, when you said you never really enjoyed penetration before, could it have been because nobody went deep enough?”

The Pedant shook his head. “It’s about exploring it with the right person. I trust you.”

“I’m glad,” I said, trying to camouflage the slight shake in my voice. Few things make my heart beat faster than when a partner trusts me enough to be vulnerable with me, physically or emotionally.

“You were totally planning all of this when you initiated getting together with me, weren’t you?

You initiated this get-together,” I reminded him.

“Oh. Right. Hey, you never told me the story of the sex club.”

So I told him the story and we had yet another annoying conversation where I was like “I’m not sure how bi I really am because vulvas freak me out” and he dismissed me and insisted that vulvas are awesome and I pointedly said “So are dicks” and he acted like his aversion to cocks made more sense than my aversion to vulvas because reasons.

This somehow led to me asking him if he’d ever suck a silicone dick (I forget how that happened but I’d wager The Pedant said cocks are gross because they’re attached to dudes, so I decided to play devil’s advocate and talk about lady-dicks). The Pedant deflected by saying “I’m not sure what the point would be.”

“The point is that the sight of a guy sucking my cock turns me on enormously. Also, I do have double-ended dildos where a little push/pull suction would have a direct visceral effect on me…”

“Ah,” The Pedant said. “Well in that case I can kind of understand it.” This, I think, is a sign of progress…I’ve joked around in the past about him sucking my cock and he was always just flat out NO NOT EVER NO NO NO EW. It seems like maaaaaybe he’s coming around.

I have to admit that I love the idea of…not exactly breaking a guy, and not pressuring him to do anything he doesn’t want to do, but like…bringing him around to the point where he’ll do things with me that he never thought he’d do. Maybe helping him discover that he had a submissive little bitch inside him the whole time. The Pedant comes off as brash and kind of an asshole most of the time, and when we first started sleeping together he was very much trying to be the take-charge stud – now I can make him go ecstatically nonverbal with just a touch, we spend most of sexytimes with him tied down and helpless, and he’s apparently started liking anal. Hawt.

More later.

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Re-banging The Pedant.

The plan had been for The Pedant and I to take a walk together and/or go for coffee, and I’d been thinking I might hit on him at the end of that. But as I waited for him to text that he was in my neighbourhood, I got increasingly paranoid that maybe he had someplace else to be later and if I propositioned him after we hung out for a bit, I’d miss my chance. The thing about The Pedant is that it’s like pulling teeth to get him to tell me when he’s free, so if I decided I was still attracted to him and wanted to do stuff, I did not want to be trying to schedule it for another time. I needed to move in immediately like a goddamned shark.

He did indeed text me when he was getting close to my place – perhaps so I’d get my shoes on and meet him outside and we could proceed from there. But I texted back that he oughta come up and meet my new kitten (which I would have done, regardless; she’s adorable and it’s good for her social development to meet a wide range of humans).

I got the door and was struck by how good The Pedant looked. At the tail end of our relationship he’d begun gaining a bit of weight, and it hadn’t looked bad on him but I assumed the new security guard job would probably make him pack on even more pounds, to a point where he was less appealing to me. I can be attracted to overall big guys sometimes, now, but I dislike it when a dude has a skinny frame and a big gut. Anyway, he was wearing black pants and a fitted black t-shirt and he appeared to have lost weight – his body was looking tight as hell. Also, just greeting him at my door like that nearly made me slip into old habits – I felt myself pulled toward him like a magnet, wanting to touch him, wanting to kiss him hello as I’ve done probably dozens of times before. I resisted, and stood back to let him walk past me into the front foyer. It’s possible he was dead set on the visit being platonic – I didn’t know yet – so I didn’t want to be presumptuous.

So we went up to my apartment and he stood in my front hall with his boots still on ’cause he thought we’d be heading out any second, and we made small talk and I handed him the kitten to hold and squee over in his restrained, manly way. And then he put the kitten back on the floor and there was a lapse in the conversation and I said (carefully standing at a distance so I didn’t come across as pressuring or clumsily trying to be seductive) “So, shall we go out for coffee? Or we could stay here and make out. That’s also on the table.” I said this in my usual straightforward-but-awkward way – not sexily at all. I could barely make eye contact while I formed the words.

A smirk/smile spread slowly across The Pedant’s face. He stood there like that, silently, for what felt like forever but was probably ten seconds at most. I remained standing four feet away from him, frozen like a deer in headlights, wondering “what does this mean? Have I made a fool out of myself? Say something, dammit.”

Finally, he said something like “I didn’t realize you’d had anything like that in mind when we set up this meeting. You never said anything.”

“I didn’t know if I’d still be attracted to you then. You could’ve gained a hundred pounds for all I knew. I wanted to see you before making any decisions.”

The Pedant chuckled at that. “Yeah, I think I’ve actually lost weight since you saw me last.”

“I think so, too. It looks good on you.”

“So…is that something you’d like?” he asked – meaning the staying in and making out.

I probably should’ve said “I offered, didn’t I?” – seriously, why does The Pedant have this need to make me restate this shit fifty times? I don’t get it. But instead I nodded, walked over to him, put my hand on his face, and softly began to kiss him.

He was just as responsive as I’d remembered. I always loved that about him. In moments I had him gasping, whimpering, melting in his skin. Even just brushing my thumb across that one spot on the side of his neck made him vocalize. When I ran my hand down his chest I thought his knees would buckle.

After a while I broke off the kissing long enough to say “Less clothing” but he either didn’t hear me or was so deep in subspace (or whatever it is that happens to him when I start pushing his buttons) that he couldn’t move. He was already in that passive state of being so overwhelmed by sensations that he could barely kiss me back. When I yanked his tucked-in shirt out of his pants, he gave a little gasp of arousal and stepped back/put his arms up so I could pull it over his head. When I undid his belt shortly after, he managed to pull himself out of his stupor long enough to undo his pants for me and pull them and his underwear down to his knees. He gasped deeply when I touched his cock but curiously, he wasn’t hard. He remained flaccid as I continued making out with him. Typically if I’ve got him in a trance of moaning like that, he’s hard, even if he’s come fairly recently or tired or has to pee or whatever. He may not be able to orgasm, but he’s erect. I choose to believe that this was an emotional issue – that he still has feelings for me but didn’t know whether I was kissing him out of feelings or lust or closure or something else, so his dick wasn’t quite cooperating. That I’d caught him off guard and he felt maybe a little unsure. There’s a charming vulnerability to that.

Eventually I said “take off your boots and stay a while” because I suddenly remembered that he was still wearing them and this struck me as ridiculous. I sat on the couch and watched him bend down to remove his footwear and finally take his pants and underwear all the way off. I walked back over to him and we made out some more and I said “Let’s go to the bedroom where we can shut out the cats. If you ask nicely, I might even tie you to my bed.”

“Would you like my lips on you first?”

Wow – he was offering me oral instead of totally being a passive attention whore like usual. A fascinating novelty. “Yes.”

During all of these proceedings, I felt somewhat distant. Partly emotional self-protection, I’m sure, but also probably the stupid anti-depressants killing my buzz. I didn’t feel even the tiniest twitch of physical arousal during the making out…until we got into the bedroom and he kind of threw me down on the bed and got on top of me. It’s not like me to be turned on by aggression, but with The Pedant I kind of am, perhaps because he’s usually such a passive recipient that I’ve often felt more like I was providing a service for him than engaging in activities with him.

We made out some more with him lying on me and he let his still-mostly-flaccid cock fall between my legs and suddenly I flashed back to bareback sex with him so intensely that it just about took my breath away. I ached for him to just slide inside me smoothly while we kissed, as only he has been able to do (but he couldn’t at that moment if he’d wanted to because erectile difficulties). I decided that I wouldn’t bring up the idea of barebacking, because it’s unfair to ask someone to make health-affecting decisions when their judgment is impaired (and being turned on counts as impaired) but that if he initiated I’d probably go for it.

Then The Pedant made his way downward and orally sexed me for a while. It was…I dunno. For most of my life, my clit has been too sensitive to touch directly – it hurt. Now, anxiety issues and/or medication has reduced that sensitivity and also made it more difficult to orgasm. The Pedant’s cunnilingus style is enthusiastic but kind of imprecise; he kept doing these big flat-tongued licks right over the tip of my clitoris. At first I tried to just go with it; it felt intense but it didn’t quite hurt like it used to, and I wondered whether circumstances had conspired to make me a direct-clit-touching person and I just never explored it out of force of habit. I wondered if maybe embracing the intense sensations was the new key to getting off, and my old indirect method of stimulation was no longer enough for me.

But no, the feelings were too intense to be comfortable and I knew pretty quickly that I wouldn’t come. Each direct tongue-swipe made me gasp and jump and try to cringe away, but The Pedant always followed me with his head so there was no escaping the onslaught. One might think he was misinterpreting my reactions as pleasure, but he didn’t narrow down his licking to only focus on the tip and make me gasp every time – he just kept mashing his tongue all over the place with no regard to how I responded. I began putting my hand on his head and saying “That’s a little too much” when he’d clit-swipe me, but he did not appear to register my words at all. Finally I said “let’s take a break” and made him stop entirely.

He was still really gung ho to make me come, though, so he got out the Hitachi. Which he was also imprecise with, so that sometimes he was stimulating areas that felt great and other times he was mashing it upward against the very tip of my clit. I kept flinching and said “it’s best not to touch my clitoris directly – it’s too sensitive” but, again, that didn’t appear to register with him at all. When I asked him to stop Hitachi-ing me, he was like “maybe fingers are what you need” which…what? I’ve told him numerous times that the Hitachi is the only way I can get off anymore, and that thing is like a jackhammer – continuous hard vibration. How in the fuck did he think his hand could get me off if the Hitachi couldn’t? I mean, it’s not impossible for a guy to replicate the very fast, firm stimulation that I need – I bet The Latent Heterosexual could do it, he’s got hands of steel – but that’s a rare, rare talent and I don’t believe The Pedant has it.

And yes, I know I should have batted his hands and face away from me and sat him down for a serious talk about Taking Direction Properly, because it’s just such total bullshit how little he was listening to me. But I didn’t want to spoil what little sexy mood we had left. The sexytimes had started out like this glorious cinematic romantic reunion scene and I didn’t want to deflate that by getting all pissy.

So I let him attempt to give me  a hand job and of course he touched me in ways that were uncomfortable/painful and I knew it was pointless to try to tell him how to do it better because he wouldn’t listen. Instead I was like “Hey, you know what I need right now?” and pushed his hand downward to indicate that he should put his fingers inside me.

I think The Pedant’s problem is that he thinks all women work the same way (an issue I predicted before we ever went to bed together, btw), so if someone’s needs don’t meet his preconceptions he simply cannot comprehend it. Most chicks like direct clitoral stimulation, so when I said I didn’t, his brain didn’t process the words; most chicks like nipple stimulation, so when I kept saying “Easy does it!” and flinching away from his enthusiastic suction, he didn’t seem to hear me (oh, yeah…that was happening throughout the evening. Finally I pointedly told him “Nipples are your thing, not mine, remember?” and he stopped sucking on them after that). But chicks like having fingers inside them, so when I wanted him to do that he had no problem with it.

Once The Pedant was safely sidelined giving g-spot stimulation (the one thing he does consistently do in ways that I like) I Hitachi’d myself and managed to come despite the meds and my increasing annoyance and resentment with The Pedant. After which he actually asked me if I’d come.

“You can’t tell?” I asked, incredulously, just barely keeping myself from adding the word “Still?!?

“You hold the vibrator in a higher spot than other people do and I find it confusing.”

“Yeah, that’s because I don’t like my clit touched directly. My favourite spot is along the shaft.”

Srsly, WTF is wrong with this boy? First off, I’ve fucking told him a hundred times that I don’t like direct stimulation (not just that night but many, many other times). Secondly, he’s seen me get myself off quite a lot so he should be accustomed to how I hold the vibrator. And thirdly, apparently when determining whether I’d come, he chose to ignore the fact that my breath quickened and my body tensed up and then suddenly I bucked and moaned while my kegel muscles contracted around his fingers repeatedly, and then my whole body went slack and I turned the vibrator off, giggling and looking satisfied and trying to catch my breath. None of that factored into his idea of an orgasm because I wasn’t holding the vibrator where he’s accustomed to seeing it. I…do not have enough facepalm for this. I need a bigger hand and a bigger face. Actually, The Pedant has a pretty huge face; maybe I should’ve facepalmed him. Hard and repeatedly.

And this weird shit isn’t new! He always ignored my preferences like this, and seemed to have a blueprint in his head for how my body should work rather than noticing how it does! I must have been really love-blinded to have glossed over this idiocy for so long. It makes me sad that I put up with it and I kinda want to have that little talk about listening whether or not I ever fuck him again, just to burst his smug little bubble and let him know that he’s not actually the goddamned Pussy Whisperer.

Anyway, after I came The Pedant kept telling me he wanted me to come again; he really seemed to feel he had something to prove. I wonder if he remembers the conversation we had on the last day we spent together, over a year ago? Or maybe he doesn’t, and was just trying to make a good impression because this was the first time we’d fucked in so long. He was proactive about getting me off the very first time we ever had sex, too. But I didn’t have another orgasm in me (and this was probably directly his fault: being touched too hard or too directly usually burns me out faster. Even in my current medicated state I can usually come more than once).

So we made out some more instead, and I ended up on top of him as usual, and (remembering how I’d told him to ask nicely) he put his arms up by his head – his signal for “cuff my wrists to the bed” and whispered “please…”

I still haven’t caught up fully on sleep after all these adventures, and I’m so tired my eyes can barely focus. I’ll have to continue this story in a new post. Night night.


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In which I continue doing all the things

That newbie sub I beat the shit out of a little while back? We had a second date the night before last that culminated in me sleeping over at his hotel room. As we were drifting off to sleep he asked if he could be my sub, and I said yes. I never normally warm up to anyone this quickly – Christ, I’ve never actually declared anyone my sub before, even after seeing them and discussing compatibility for months. I don’t know if I said yes this time because this boy seems extraordinarily awesome, or because lately I’ve become sick of holding myself ever-so-slightly aloof from partners and seem to be just fuckin’ jumping headlong into everything being offered to me.

He does seem pretty awesome, though, and I will no doubt be writing more about him. I should give him a name. Too tired to think of one right now.

But anyway, I barely slept that night – strange bed plus naked getting-to-know-you time with this boy. We fell asleep at maybe five a.m., and I dragged myself up at ten to stagger home and pretty myself up for that pro domme session. Almost immediately after that – leaving no time to catch up on sleep – I was slated to hang out with The Pedant.

Whom I banged. A lot. We dozed a little bit during that time, but for the most part I count this as pulling an all-nighter. I’m fuckin’ wrecked and will give more details some other time.

I’ll say this, though: I suspect this night with The Pedant was closure sex rather than the beginning of a whole new thing. He does things in bed that are irritating as all hell, and now that I’m not blinded by affection these things grate on me like whoa.

I’ll also say that although many aspects of the Pedant sex were befuddling or downright annoying, I still very much got some things I needed from it. Like perspective, and also a sense of power that was sorely missing in our previous dealings.

But yeah. I need to force myself to hermit for a few days, I think – I still have this bizarre compulsion to be constantly social and especially sexual, but it’s gonna burn me out. I feel bad about temporarily ignoring some of my harem members but I think I really need to.


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