Pedant thoughts

During The Pedant’s last sexvisit I mentioned to him that I really wanted to see pics of him from when he was younger and had a much more goth/raver kid aesthetic and spiky hair. I’ve only seen one blurry photo from that era. The Pedant said that’s actually probably the only pic of it in existence. Booooo.

I told The Pedant that I wish I’d known him back then because I probably would’ve fallen all over myself with lust and been very very gung ho to corrupt his much-less-experienced-than-now self. And he was like “Ehhhhhhh…I hadn’t really figured out how to groom myself well back then. I’m not so sure you’d’ve been into me.”

We talked about this some more and it just really stood out for me how exacting The Pedant is about his grooming. I mean yeah, he has neatly-maintained facial hair and he’s always clean and nice-smelling, but not just out of habit – everything he does with his appearance, I’m realizing, is a very calculated thing. He has a look he’s going for and he upholds it immaculately at all times. He gets clothing custom made so that it fits properly. He has specialized tools for shaving/trimming various parts of his facial hair.

And yet, his look is a manly one. Every other guy I’ve known who was so fastidious and precise about his clothes, hair, etc. was a crossdresser, and put most of that energy into their female persona. Their male side was just, like…”here is a random pair of pants and a shirt to keep me from being naked when I go outside.” Seeing someone perform masculinity instead of presenting as male kinda by default is really hot to me.

On a related note, when I first got my new shaver for my head, The Pedant told me a bunch of tips and tricks for getting the closest shave and I felt like an adolescent boy being mentored by a grown man. It unexpectedly affirmed my identity as genderqueer, and also reminded me that The Pedant genuinely likes tomboyish, no-frills chicks. He doesn’t secretly wish I had long hair. He doesn’t want me to look like a Cosmopolitan cover model. He likes me being kinda butch and kinda punk-rock and is eager to help me be the best version of that that I can be.

Most other guys I know – even if they seem to think I’m attractive in my normal guise – go all wibbly the first time they see a pic of me in a long wig and full makeup. The Pedant, by contrast, saw me in eyeliner once – actually in the mostly-rubbed-off remains of eyeliner  – and burst out laughing. He is very vocal in his opinion that makeup makes women look like clowns – an outspokenness that, while rather rude by normal standards, is like a tall drink of water in the desert for me right now. If he criticizes femmey women’s fashion choices to me I will defend them, but he can totally laugh at me in feminine garb all he wants. I’ve actually started fantasizing about coming home to him after a sex work thing and him pulling off my wig and wiping my lipstick off with the back of his hand before he’ll even kiss me…and then telling me to jump in the shower and wash the rest of that shit off so we can fuck.

More Pedant mushiness: yesterday he dropped off a whole assload of stuff for me: a second-hand cell phone to use in my sex work and findomming activities; a thingy that plugs into an outlet and converts it into a big bank of USB charging ports; and, finally, an extension cord to plug the USB thing into. He feels that it would make my life easier if I had a central “charging station” for all my devices and is giving me the materials I need to achieve this.

The extension cord is orange. He had several colours of cord kicking around, but my living room – which is where this “charging station” will be – is orange, so he picked that one so it would blend better. And he customized the cell phone in some ways that he felt would make it more user friendly for me – and set the background colour of the screen to match my hair.

And he was so understated and matter-of-fact about all of this – not being super show-offy and waiting for praise, just quietly working to optimize my life.

He might never say it in words to my actual face, but this boy loves me. I finally get it now.


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Texting with The Pedant

Me: I think your stupid awesome penis gave me a UTI (read that in Cheryl Tunt’s voice, it’s funnier). Still totes worth it. But I gotta regale you with stories ’cause if I’m suffering as a result of sex with you, you should suffer, too. OW MY URETHRA. IT BURRRRRNS.

Pedant: I’ll remind you to use the toilet after each penetration in the future.

Me: I did, though! Pretty sure I did, anyway. For exactly that reason. [Later] Goddammit this is so unpleasant. I can never fully empty my bladder because every time I start peeing it HURTS and I clench involuntarily. STUPID AWESOME PENIS.

Pedant: I suspect this brings a whole new meaning to “feel the burn.”

Me: Come closer so I can show my appreciation of that joke properly.

Pedant: I came inside you. I literally could not come any closer.

Me: Your pun has me caught between wanting to facepalm and wanting to fap. Awkward.

Pedant: You have two hands.

Me: You, sir, are a genius. I’ll be in my bunk.

Incidentally, I Googled home remedies for UTIs and found one that uses items I already had on-hand: apple cider vinegar and baking soda, mixed into water and drunk as often as I can stand it. It seems to be helping. Tastes surprisingly okay, too – like an even-less-sweet version of ginger ale, kinda.

Also, while The Pedant was over, I was complaining that my thighs were sore from all the cowgirl sex and added “The problem, I guess, is that your cock is perfect and I just can’t stay off it.” The Pedant seemed completely caught off-guard by this and said something like “That…is an amazing thing to hear. Thank you” which is about as mushy or effusive as he gets. I assumed he knew how enamored I am with his junk…lord knows I’ve told him “god, I love your cock” enough times while fucking him. Maybe he thought that was token dirty talk or an expression of affection and not, like, literal. But yeah, “your stupid awesome penis…” was kind of a follow-up to that compliment, and I totally was imagining it in Cheryl Tunt’s voice when I wrote it.


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I’ve been enjoying playing with paypet a lot, and also I have a lot of things I want but can’t afford, so I’m endeavoring to find more paypets (hopefully in person this time).

To the Craigslistmobile! I searched for words like “shopping” and “princess” and found quite a few ads from guys looking to take a woman shopping (none overtly spoke of financial domination but you could tell it’s what they were driving at). I responded to all of them. Three guys wrote back. It appears that all of them have gotten spooked and run away. Including the one who seemed so sweet and sincere and was supposed to meet me at the mall today for shopping. I spent half an hour constructing my Hot Girl Disguise and 45 minutes travelling to the mall on public transit, only to be stood up with no notice or contact of any kind and have to travel 45 minutes back home again. I PUT GLITTER ON MY TITS FOR THIS, YOU GUYS. THIS EVENING WAS A TOTAL WASTE OF TIT-GLITTER.

I’m disappointed by the other two guys ghosting (both of them cancelled our meet-ups the day before they were slated to happen) but I’m fucking pissed at the one who stood me up. That is bullshit.

Like, I get that it’s scary to meet strangers from online. And I get that when you’ve been fantasizing about a thing but never done it, taking it to the real world and doing it is suuuuper scary. I remember the conflict I felt when I was first seeking subs – simultaneously afraid that the real experience wouldn’t be as good as my fantasies (because what would I wank to then?!) and that it would be better than my fantasies (because I could never go back to living a normal life again! I’d need to date submissive men and only submissive men, forever! My dating pool would be tiny and most people would think I was a freak!).

So yes. Meeting up with someone to get a fetish fulfilled can be scary for a number of reasons. But if you get spooked and don’t wanna meet after all, OPEN YOUR GODDAMNED DICKHOLE AND SAY SO WITH YOUR WORDS. Don’t waste my fucking time.

I actually have modelling gigs every night this week. Tonight was my only free evening. And I spent it being all excited and hopeful and painstakingly preparing for something that never ended up happening. Not to mention wasting two bus fares. And just to recap, the guy I was supposed to meet tonight:

  • Was motivated enough in his kink to post an ad on Craigslist
  • Had a specific monthly budget to allot to his future “Princess” (so he’s either done this before or at least given it a lot of thought in a practical, down-to-Earth way)
  • Sent me a photo of himself without me even asking
  • Offered to meet me and take me shopping – he initiated that, not me
  • Wrote to me several times in the meantime to tell me he was super excited and could hardly wait
  • Asked me some practical questions like how he should refer to me and whether I had any rules for him to follow

You know he’s gonna repost that same ad on Craigslist and repeat the cycle with no glimmer of self-awareness, right?

When I got home from my pointless little journey I emailed him all “Yeeeeah so I waited at our meeting place for 45 min and you didn’t show up or email me…is there anything you’d like to say to me right now?” He has not responded. I didn’t even get the courtesy of him inventing a personal emergency and broken cell phone/computer. He’s just…gone.



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A huge long mostly-sex Pedant post.

The Pedant came over and stayed pretty much all weekend.

He’s been super helpful and attentive lately. I think othergirl breaking up with him has made him realize what a good thing he has with me. Or something. I’m a little wary that othergirl might want him back or he’ll meet someone else he really likes and all of this will be withdrawn again, but mostly I’m just focusing on enjoying it. If something happens down the road I’ll deal with it then.

I was having a shitty time earlier this week and wanted to take solace in The Pedant’s warm furry calmly accepting loveliness so I texted him asking “when can I see you next?” Often trying to plan things with him is like trying to nail Jell-o to a wall, but to my surprise he immediately proposed that he come over from Friday night til sometime on Sunday. And indeed, although he couldn’t give me an arrival time in advance he promised to keep me apprised of his schedule and whereabouts the day of, and did.

I’m pretty poor right now and feeding an extra person for three-ish days would be a strain, so I got up my nerve to text The Pedant asking him to pick up a couple of grocery items on his way here to help lighten the load. Like just a package of breakfast sausage and a salmon fillet or two; I have eggs and salad stuff here. He said he figured he’d just take me out to sushi when he arrived and I was like “okay, let’s do that then.” But he ended up doing both, and by the looks of it buying more salmon than he figured we’d need just to help me out.

Sushi was lovely, and when we got back to my place The Pedant stripped naked (as he often does, to keep his clothes free of cat hair) and surprised me with a gift: two big, sturdy dog collars to go around his thighs (so I could attach his wrists to his thighs; I’d mentioned wanting a rig like that ages ago), a leash (I…am not sure what he’s picturing, there) and a bondage collar. The bondage collar in particular made me catch my breath. I think they’re sexy as hell and have wanted one for a long time – along with a boy who would wear it for me – but I’d never mentioned this to him and hadn’t ever expected that he would be that boy. To be clear, I’m not into “collaring” in the sense of a collar symbolizing a huge marriage-like kinky commitment. For me it’s more a combo fashion statement/handy grab-point, but they’re expensive (I think usually a hundred bucks or more) and I never saw the point of buying one unless or until I had a good ongoing boy to put it on. I guess it would have been more akin to making someone my kink-boyfriend than my kink-husband.

I took the collar out of its gift bag, and The Pedant got down on his knees (albeit on the couch, not at my feet or anything) so I could fasten it onto him. The sight of the collar going around his neck was so powerful to me that I had to catch my breath. My hands trembled as I buckled it up.

“I mentioned the idea of thigh restraints like three years ago,” I murmured, trying to sound casual and distract The Pedant from just how breathless and wobbly I felt, but my voice was a bit unsteady, too.

“Contrary to what you might think, I do have a good memory.”

“Clearly,” I said, and used the bondage ring on his collar to pull him forward into a long, deep kiss.

To be perfectly honest, my belly was full-to-bursting with sushi and I would rather have waited and digested a while before getting down to the sexual portion of the visit. But what else can you do when your partner presents you with a bondage collar and kneels so you can put it on him? I mean damn.

I excused myself to pee and when I came out of the bathroom, The Pedant had fastened the dog collars around his thighs and was kneeling on the bed, hands resting neatly on his knees, head down. Just waiting, perfectly still, in an attitude of willing subjugation. So fucking hot, but I couldn’t help wondering…what did this all mean? Did The Pedant spend an assload of money on bondage gear just because he knew I’d like it and he enjoys bottoming to me sometimes, or was he offering himself to me in some capacity? Was this his way of telling me he wanted to be my submissive (whatever that even means, to him)?

Unfortunately, I find it difficult to talk to The Pedant about emotions etc. My default mode is total transparency and fearless questioning, but his default mode is opaque silence and sometimes when I’ve asked him to explain his motivations he’s looked at me like the question was kind of…gauche. So I’ve become taciturn with him out of a kind of peer pressure.He’s conveyed the idea that talking about emotions is Not What We Do. And honestly I think even if I did ask him about emotional stuff he wouldn’t be self-aware enough to give conclusive answers, anyway.

Oh, on a side note – because it’s arguably going to be relevant later – I did manage to ask The Pedant, a few visits ago, why he wasn’t able to tell me he loved me if he was feeling it (quick recap: when we were dating the first time around, I’d told him I was falling for him…and he said nothing back. Like as in I wondered if he’d even heard me (spoilers: he had). So I never dropped the L-bomb because I figured it might weird him out. Finally, during my break-up email to him when I had nothing more to lose, I typed the words to him. He wrote back that “the feelings are being reciprocated.” So all that time that I worried our feelings were uneven and I’d scare him off if I said I loved him, he loved me back. And wouldn’t say so even though there was pretty much no emotional risk to him in doing so – given my speech about falling for him). He didn’t really have an answer for why he couldn’t say the words. He just kinda shrugged and said “I dunno. I fuck things up in relationships a lot.” You’d think this would be frustrating for me but mostly it let me know that the issue is with him, not me. There was nothing about me that kept him from falling for me, or kept him from saying he was falling for me. He’s just…kind of a dumbass. Cool, now I know.

Annnnyhoo. I buckled my wrist restraints onto The Pedant and attached them to the collars on his thighs, then started making out with him etc., with him still on his knees. TBH my idea with the thigh restraints was to use them while he was standing. With him on the bed like that I don’t think the restraints generated as much psychological tension as they could have; just seemed like he was sitting there in a perfectly natural pose with his hands comfortably at his sides. I pushed him onto his back on my mattress for a while, realized that his restrained arms interfered with me properly straddling him, and unhooked the wrist restraints and attached them to the corners of my bed, instead.

And it will never, ever get old how much of a chick The Pedant is in bed. By which I mean, he takes a while to really warm up to sex – I could fuck him right out of the starting gate but that would be a waste since he really blossoms after a bunch of foreplay. Which is a trait we think of as “feminine” but actually lots of guys are like that and lots of women are the opposite. Still, if I say someone’s a chick in bed most people will probably know what I mean. It’s a useful, if sexist, shorthand.

Like…if I just grab his dick right in the beginning, he barely reacts. I could jerk him until he got hard and get on top if I wanted to, and I assume he would come (I’ve never cut to the chase like that with him so I don’t know; the most I did was try touching his junk really early in the proceedings and I gave up on that when it didn’t get the response I wanted), but I think it would be a little…meh. Whereas by the time I finally started fucking him he was writhing under me and making sobbing, choking, whimpering, ecstatic moans. If the neighbours could hear him (and they might have; he was being pretty abandoned) they would almost certainly have thought he was crying. So fucking hot. Goddamn.

I actually tried to pull back for a moment, like hold still with just the tip of his cock inside me, to prolong this beautiful agony he was in – but at that very second I felt him start to pulse with coming so I slammed down around him over and over to hammer out every last drop. And The Pedant’s body convulsed under me as his sobbing sounds soared to a peak, and even after he was totally spent and had pulled my head down into his neck (I think he doesn’t like me seeing him so vulnerable) he was shuddering and whimpering softly. I swear I’ll be fapping about this particular instance of sex between us for the rest of my life.

So of course he fell asleep almost immediately; The Pedant can pretty much always fall asleep at the drop of a hat, and if he’s come really hard he’s just…toast. I accept this about him. I lay next to him and got myself off (with him barely seeming to notice I was there), then went to the living room and puttered around for a while, then eventually felt sleepy enough to go join The Pedant in bed. He immediately clamped onto me in such a bear hug that I couldn’t move. At one point I wanted to turn over, and he sensed my struggle and loosened his grip – but only for a second, so that I ended up trapped again in an only slightly rotated position. I was flattered enough by his cuddliness that I just decided to go with it, and managed to doze off where I was.

And yeah, a lot of the time with The Pedant it’s still me getting myself off. But I’m not really mad about this anymore because there’s not such an imbalance anymore. I used to get so carried away teasing his nipples etc. to see his reaction that – between all the foreplay and then trying to get him off when he was overstimulated and taking forever – I’d be focusing all my skills and attention on him for literally hours at a time. Sometimes an entire day or night. To spend eight fucking hours catering to someone’s every sexual whim and get nothing back is bullshit. Spending like half an hour on someone’s orgasm without him giving me one back (but with him still usually at least cheerleading while I get myself off)? That’s not as big a deal. Plus I know The Pedant gets super sleepy after coming. It’s not his fault and I don’t begrudge him.

I read somewhere that cigarette addiction is basically someone trying all day to replicate the awesomeness of that first smoke after waking up – but the first smoke after waking up is awesome because you hadn’t smoked in a bunch of hours so it hits you harder, so by definition the only way to replicate that high is by not smoking for a long time, not by smoking more. I think it may be this way with The Pedant and sex, too – that first orgasm he had with me this visit was incredible and the next morning I wanted more, but the incredibleness was quite possibly because he hadn’t had sex for a while.

So pretty soon after we woke up I hit on him and we started fucking, but yeah…it was lacking a certain something. I don’t think he was even staying all-the-way hard, and he wasn’t vocalizing all that enthusiastically. So, mid-fuck, I was like “I think I’m gonna save this one for later” and I got up and put some breakfast foods on to cook.

My plan was to leave his body entirely untouched for a bit to let the arousal calm down, and then hopefully when I resumed sexing him later he’d be rarin’ to go from having been all riled up and then left alone until the overstimulation(?) wore off. Except we ended up making out some more anyway, and then I decided I wanted to put my fingers inside him. This is the first time I’ve ever initiated that with him; in the past it was always him specifically inviting me to. I asked if he wanted his ankles restrained to the bed and he enthusiastically nodded/moaned.

So I fingerbanged him for a while, during which time he took his half-erect cock lightly in his fingertips and sort of offered it to me, and I sucked it intermittently and overall it was superfun. Sometimes my ministrations got The Pedant moaning really hard and damn near crushing my fingers, although he didn’t come and afterward when I asked what it felt like he said it just felt like pressure. Based on his bodily reactions I’m gonna say he’s just not describing his experience very well. There were sex-type responses going on, dammit, and I don’t just mean during the times that I was sucking his cock. No way did my fingerbanging efforts just feel like a neutral kind of pressure, like touching someone on the arm or something. Maybe he meant a buildup of pressure in his prostate. I dunno.

Then I had to go finish cooking breakfast, and we ate it, and after we ate – I was lying head-to-toe with him – he started petting my legs. Which is amazing because I’d actually privately decided that I was going to demand pettings after breakfast. I guess he read my mind. I don’t get super mad at him falling asleep after sex so that I have to attend to my own orgasms but I damn sure want my turn being the centre of attention in some capacity on occasion.

The Pedant always seems to forget that my feet are an erogenous zone. It’s quite vexing. So he caressed my legs and ass for a long time until I was moaning and thrashing all over the place, but I had to specifically ask him to extend his attentions to my feet. He gently placed one fingertip against my sole…and then joined it with some others and started massaging me. I love having my feet caressed, and was hoping he was going to do that, but I like massages, too, so I just went with it. I taught him what I like and he got pretty good at it (although Minx is still the reigning champion – she can release the stress in my feet so hard that I cry and need aftercare!).

After a good long time of focusing his attention on me, The Pedant sat up and began fumbling with the ankle restraints to let himself free. Then he seized my shoulders, hauled me up into a sitting position, and started kissing me like his life depended on it. He has an unfortunate tendency to starfish during sexual stuff so this fit of initiative turned me on very much.

A few minutes of passionate kissing later, he murmured, “would you like me inside you again?” I said yes, and kind of hoped that he would keep the initiative going by getting on top, but nope, he lay back and held his erect cock upright with his fingers so I’d get on it. My leg muscles were already screaming at me from the exertion of the previous night, but I acquiesced anyway. I rode him ’til he came – a decent one, but not as showy as the night before, sadly – and then dismounted, lay back against the footboard of the bed with my legs draped over his, and got out the Hitachi to get myself off. I thought The Pedant might enjoy the view but when I surreptitiously glanced over at him, he seemed like he might be asleep. Also, the Hitachi-ing wasn’t really working. I felt that some penetration might be in order.

I retrieved my favourite dildo, put it inside me, and moved it in and out a bit as I kept playing with the Hitachi…oh hell yes. Alchemy. This was definitely what I needed. But I really hate multitasking like that so I nudged The Pedant and was like “You. Boy. You’re gonna fuck me with this.” He obligingly sat up and said “You should probably free my ankles” and only then did I realize that he hadn’t actually managed to unhook himself earlier. No wonder he hadn’t gotten on top for the sex.

So The Pedant moved the dildo in and out of me while I kept going with the Hitachi and this optimal combination of things gave me a ridiculous huge screaming “O”. And for some reason when I have a really good orgasm, it brings out my sadism hugely – which is kind of an issue when the person I’m with isn’t a masochist.

“Are you okay?” The Pedant asked. I was galvanized with energy, shaking and chattering my teeth and clenching my fists.

“You brought out my violence,” I managed to say. “It’ll pass in a minute or two.”

And The Pedant sort of gathered me up, laid me next to him, and cradled me tightly in his arms. Not in a frightened way; not like he felt he needed to restrain me. Just comfort. I was grateful that he did this for me; grateful that he trusted me enough to know that I would never unleash my sadistic side on him without his express permission. Although in retrospect maybe he didn’t fully understand what I meant by “you brought out my violence.”

If it had been Mine there (if we hadn’t broken up…) and not The Pedant, I would probably have finished orgasming and then immediately started belting him in the chest with my fists as hard as I could. Or yanking his head back by a fistful of hair, kissing him, breaking the kiss just long enough to administer a head-reelilng slap to the face, then kissing him some more. Or I’d latch onto some part of his chest, thigh, or upper arms with my teeth and grind down until he screamed. But The Pedant isn’t into pain, which is why I repressed all of that and was shuddering with the effort of it. And he held me until I passed through that portion of post-orgasmic weirdness and into the half-laughing, half-crying part.

After I’d gotten my shit together we went out into the living room to watch some episodes of Archer while snuggling, during which I intermittently dozed and The Pedant massaged my feet, unbidden and nonstop, for literally an hour or two. Bliss.

Then he asked if I’d like him to take me out for sushi again – he said he’d just as soon I saved the salmon fillets he’d bought me for myself. OMG the sweetness of this boy. <3

So we went for sushi and then for a walk in the park and then we went back to my place and threw on some more Archer. This time The Pedant didn’t volunteer to caress or massage me, and I didn’t ask; we’d been having some pretty intense togetherness that weekend and I figured maybe he needed a bit of a break from all the touching. Although a few episodes in he did put his arm around me. :)

Then he did a bunch of Googling for me because I want to get what the kids call a “burner phone” to use with pro domme clients etc. and I have no idea how to go about it and it was stressing me out. He helped me narrow down an option so I didn’t have to wade through a bunch of technical specs.

Then he helped me re-do the shaved parts of my head (he has these long, elegant, silky-smooth fingers…gives me stomach butterflies the way he gently holds my chin and maneuvers my head where he needs it…TBH I’m pretty sure I shave my own head just as well as he does it but I love him doing it for me just to watch him be so meticulous and precise and feel how gently he treats me).

Then we went to bed at the same time, for once, and I fell fast asleep with his arm around me and my head in that little niche where his shoulder meets his chest.

The next day I had a modelling gig at 1pm and I set my alarm a little extra early, hoping for some PedantSex before I had to leave. I actually awoke slightly before the alarm went off,which was nice; no jumping awake from a loud noise. The Pedant had rolled away from me at some point and was sleeping across the bed with his back to me. When I ran an exploratory hand down the side of his torso, he stirred and moaned a little and rolled over on his back to give me access to more of his erogenous zones. I took a quick pee break and then came back and touched him some more, coaxing his body into heating up for me, readying him for fucking. He never once opened his eyes and actually seemed like he might be half-asleep through this whole process. Even as I swung my leg over him to straddle and kiss him I laughingly asked “Do you actually have any idea where you are or who I am?” and he made a faint “yes”-noise without opening his eyes.

I’d told him near the beginning that he should get up and have a pre-emptive pee (as a full bladder messes with his sexual functioning) and he sort of hadn’t acknowledged me. So I started fucking him and a few minutes in I said “Seriously, though: go pee” and dismounted so he could get up and go, which he did.

Sadly, when he got back and we resumed fucking he was once again seeming kinda lackluster about it. Maybe more so than pre-pee; perhaps the break in the action had thrown him off. But his sounds were nowhere near the fervour of that first night and I think he was having erectile issues, as well. And since I refuse to destroy my thigh muscles anymore for no damn reason, I took this as my cue to dismount, lie beside him, and get myself off, instead. I made The Pedant finger my g-spot while I wielded the Hitachi, which, damn…another pretty amazing climax for me. Not quite enough to give me the “I wanna tear you apart”-shakes, but still strong as hell, and The Pedant cuddled me through my subsequent alternating giggle and cry-fits. And god help me, while I was lying there in his arms, after a glorious weekend of him taking care of my body and its needs in basically every major way, I kissed him on the forehead and softly said “I love you.” He did not acknowledge this at all, and I didn’t expect him to. I know he loves me; he’s shown this quite clearly with his actions. I’m not positive that my actions come through so clearly to him, since he’s said he sucks at reading signals etc., so I wanted to be sure he knew how I felt. That’s all.

I was fully intending on just getting up and getting ready for work, then, as though The Pedant’s lack of orgasm was no big thing (and it’s not! I love watching him come but if he’s having an off day it’s not the end of the world and certainly not some huge problem we need to talk about). I figured if he actually still wanted to come, he’d let me know. Like, probably by pulling me on top of him again. But when I announced that I should start getting ready, he didn’t pull me on top of him; he surprised me by getting on top of me, instead. For a split second I thought he was just looking for a brief full-contact cuddle before I got up, but I quickly realized that his intention was to fuck me. “Yes,” I said, in case there was any doubt that I was in agreement with his idea, and I opened my legs for him. He managed to slide into me without either of us having to use our hands. And his cock just fits me so perfectly, and I love his smell and taste and just everything about his body, and he’s the only person ever to be able to penetrate me hands-free, that I blurted out “welcome home.” He cut off my words with his mouth.

He came fairly quickly – I guess he just needed to be the one controlling the thrusting – and the feel of him going off inside me triggered one of my weird sympathetic braingasms where I think maybe I get the brain chemicals of an orgasm but not the crotchfeelings part. So we lay together, both of  us shuddering with aftershocks of one kind or another, and eventually he rolled off me but cuddled up to the side of me with his head resting on my chest – a position that always makes me feel fiercely protective and loving.

Then I really did need to hurry up and get ready for work.

The Pedant takes a thousand years to be ready to go anywhere, so I invited him to take all the time he needed and just let himself out after – the door locks automatically and I trust him to be in my apartment alone. Last time I made this offer he insisted on leaving with me (and lagged behind me infuriatingly), but mercifully this time he accepted. In the meantime, I started cooking us breakfast but ran out of time so rapidly that only the sausages actually got cooked – I didn’t have time to start any eggs. The Pedant ended up standing in the hallway holding the finished plateful of sausages as I bustled around gathering up my stuff and getting dressed. Every time I passed him I’d pick up a sausage and take a bite, or he’d pick one up and feed me a bite. I’d put on six of them, intending them to be for both of us, but he said “You need them more than I do” and kept feeding me until they were gone. I was still chewing the last bite as I went out the door. When I said goodbye to him he said “It was good seeing you this weekend” and I was in such a hurry that I just kind of distractedly kissed him (mouth closed, obvs, because sausage) and left and his words – and the sweet, warm smile he gave me as he said them – kinda didn’t hit me until I was already outside. I wish I’d said something but I did drop an I-love-you earlier so I’m not gonna get too bent out of shape about not properly responding to his moment of mushiness.

A while after I got home, he texted “Good seeing you. My errands weren’t entirely successful. Also, I think I left the cover to my lint roller on the shelf by your door.”

I like that The Pedant sent a text reiterating that he’d had a good time. I’m accustomed to an intense romantic/sexual time with someone being followed up with some sort of recap/reinforcement, and he hasn’t always done this. Like, at all.

Here’s something that drives me nuts, though: I texted back confirming that he had left his lint roller cover here, and also observing that at one point during the sex that weekend I’d briefly and experimentally choked him a whole lot harder than usual and asking if that was okay or a bit too much.

He read that message as soon as I sent it (it wasn’t technically a text, it was a WhatsApp message and with those it tells you if the person saw your message and when they last opened the app) but he hasn’t replied.

The paranoid part of me is insinuating meanly to me that The Pedant hasn’t answered because he was traumatized by the choking and is trying to figure out a polite way of saying so. The logical part, however, recognizes that he acted lovely and happy both before and after my little “experiment” – no weirdness, silence, etc. – and that he’s not generally a person who pussyfoots around trying to figure out how to say things delicately. I’m sure he’s fine.

I don’t know why he couldn’t take two seconds to type out a response, though. Odds are he is not having complicated, hard-to-express thoughts about this – probably he’ll just be like “Yeah can you not be so rough in future kthx” – so why didn’t he just say that? Why leave me hanging?

Meh, he’s an odd duck. The sooner I come to terms with this, the happier I’ll be.


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Random thoughts about sex work

So I recently did my second “foot party” – this thing that’s kind of like a strip club except instead of naked or mostly-naked ladies who take you to the VIP room for private dances, it’s clothed ladies who take you to a private room for nonsexual foot play.

Both times, I made more money than I would have working my day job for the same amount of time, but I didn’t make big-time glamorous frivolous sexy money. And honestly I don’t think I’m going to. In fact, I’m gonna actually be even more bold in my blanket statements here and say that I think it would be damn near impossible for anyone to. The guys who go to this thing go there to experience a variety of women’s feet, which means a lot of the time I could be spending with my feet in someone’s mouth, I’m spending out on the floor hustling because the last guy only wanted one session. The way to make amazing money would be to find a guy who just wants to keep going with me again and again and again, but that hasn’t happened yet and I am given to understand it’s rare as hen’s teeth.

I wish to god I had the kind of effortlessly chatty personality that puts people at ease. I think you really need that in a situation like a foot party. Sadly, I am an awkward dork. I faked chattiness as best I could, although some people just didn’t give anything back and my act collapsed into a heavily weird silence. But I tried my best. I’m sensitive to the fact that a lot of these guys were there for the first time and/or had been made to feel like freaks for their innocuous fetish, so I considered it my job to be Supercool Easygoing Chick, helping them to feel accepted, open up, and have fun.

And the vast majority of the guys were totally sweet and nice. I mean even times that I couldn’t think how to get or keep a conversation going, it wasn’t because I hated the guy or anything. I’m just a dork. I’m actually eternally grateful to these guys for how sensitive they were – the whole time I was hustling, I never had a single guy reject me outright. I mean nobody was like “Ew no I only like petite women” or anything like that. It was always “Oh um I just got here so I think I’d like to take a bit to get settled in” or “I’m actually waiting for a friend.” Took me stupid-long to even realize that these were just excuses. Derp.

But yeah. The guys may have been made to feel freaky for their foot fetishes, but I’ve been made to feel freaky for my height and shoe size – so it was a relief that nobody there acted like I was huge and gross, and healing as all fuck when a guy who specifically liked big feet would play with me and tell me how gorgeous they are. Seriously, it’s like some of the old psychological scars from high school just vanished on the spot.

Weirdly, I had a couple of guys refuse to believe my stated height or shoe size (and I wasn’t exaggerating either number!), which filled me with rage. As did the guy who said I “don’t look dominant.” Dafuq does he think a dominant looks like? I mean the weird thing, to me, is that the kind of guy who thinks a woman can “look dominant” often has a simplistic, caricature-ish image in his head – usually, from what I can tell, someone very tall with an hourglass figure and red lipstick. I have all of that. That is what I looked like when I attended the parties. So all I can think is that dude believes dominant women wear a black latex catsuit literally every moment of their lives. Anyway despite me trying to be on my best behaviour because customer service position, rage welled up and I kind of argued with these guys a bit, albeit in a restrained sort of way. Just…for my entire adult life I’ve struggled with finding clothes and shoes that fit, and to have some guy who just met me casually go “Nah, you don’t look that tall to me” and even suggest at one point that I’d look great in a Catwoman costume and should go ahead and buy one from [local costume shop where everything is one-size-fits-all] is just…GRRRRRRR.

In other news, I genuinely like having attention paid to my feet, butttttt unfortunately what I like doesn’t align super well with what foot fetishists like. Almost everyone wanted to suck and lick my toes, and I like a little of that once in a while but not twenty straight minutes of marinating in someone’s saliva. I of course made a show of enjoying myself, anyway. My feet are at the whole other end of my body so it’s pretty easy to detach myself from what’s going on with them. And there were pleasurable sensations here and there. The big tease was when the occasional guy wanted to massage me (which I love) but didn’t do it the way I like. If someone squishes their thumb into the sole of my foot hard and pushes it slowly up the arch it will make me completely lose my goddamned mind. Minx has made me cry (the good kind of crying) by doing this. I have needed aftercare after a good foot massage. But these guys…what they did was perfectly pleasant, but nowhere near what would have taken me to my happy place. I made a point of telling them once, light and friendly-like, that I carry all my tension in the arch and love firm pressure there, and if they didn’t alter their technique I didn’t ask again. Most guys did not acknowledge my words whatsoever; one or two pressed almost imperceptibly harder but still nowhere near what I was craving, but that’s all fine. The bottom line is that I was there to please them, not vice-versa. It just would’ve been a nice perk if we’d both been getting physical pleasure out of the deal.

The best thing to come out of the foot parties (aside from men telling me that my feet are perfect and shapely and amazing) is that I met a guy who went on to book a private session with me (like on our own time, totally independent of the foot party). He is an absolutely delightful client. He respects boundaries, knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to say so but isn’t overbearing about it, and our chemistry is excellent – he brings out a playful spark in me that made our session fun.

I woke up the day after with sore thumb and forearm muscles and realized it was from pinching his nipples so hard, though! My problems are different from other people’s.

Oh also I was incredibly sore after both foot parties from holding my legs up in the air so guys could suck on my toes. Thank heaven I’m already in good shape from modelling or I wouldn’t have lasted the night – I would have just collapsed or my legs would have fallen off or something.


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No longer Mine

The Person Formerly Known As Mine is now on his way home again, after a couple of hours of us talking and me realizing that a) our relationship would probably never work and b) I could not mourn about this with him present.

I realize now that we never really properly broke up, the first time around. Like, we agreed that we couldn’t be in a relationship, but we also agreed that this was largely due to circumstance and that maybe once that changed we’d be able to resume. And with that glimmer of hope on the horizon I was never able to truly move on.

Now I guess I’m free.


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Poly perils

Yesterday Mine told me he could come over tonight at 10 or 11pm if I wanted. I said yes.

I’d been assuming that we could pick up where we left off, kind of. I’d been assuming that he’d come to the door and I’d be making out with him almost immediately and his time here would be spent with him basically subbing to me.

But last night he said he’d text me this afternoon. I didn’t know why he’d be texting me this afternoon – our plans were already in place, right? But I said sure. And then I didn’t hear from him.

Finally at around 9pm I pointedly texted him, “Let me know when you’re leaving.”

He said “Leaving around 10:30. I was at a work BBQ.” (Note: he lives at least an hour away.)

I said “Hey, given that you originally said you’d be here at 10 or 11, the thing to do would have been to tell me about this BBQ at least an hour ago. I’m not super mad or anything but I’m just saying.”

But after I sent it I realized that I actually am angry. Like…extremely so. I JUST WANT A PARTNER WHO’S CONSISTENT AND RELIABLE HOW FUCKING HARD IS THAT. And this is twigging all my old issues with Mine. Like, once again his work gets in the way; once again he prioritizes his work over me. I tend to assume that if this were some boring function he didn’t wanna be at, he’d’ve told me ahead of time that it would make him arrive later than he’d said. But he didn’t, which makes me think he was having fun and forgot about me.

I want to feel important. I want someone to be so excited about seeing me that he’s thinking about it all the time and it’s just natural to keep me updated and/or put me ahead of other people who want his time and attention.

This shit, coming on the heels of The Pedant telling me fifty thousand times that he was going to focus his attention on othergirl, is pretty much driving me to the breaking point. Mine will be here any minute and I have no idea what I’ll do when I see him. Be stiff and formal, probably. Although bursting into tears or kissing him or both doesn’t seem entirely out of the question, either. He is, after all, the first person I fell in love with since Minx.

I do not like this predicament. At all.

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