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Moar Pedant

The Pedant returned last night after work, ostensibly to help me paint my apartment some more. Spoilers: we got naked instead.

Shit ran late at his job so he didn’t end up arriving til 9pm (vs 7:30 which is what we’d planned). So, only two hours before the noise bylaws kicked in. And I knew I wanted to fuck him and I know my vibrator is loud enough that the harpy downstairs can hear it and will sometimes pound her ceiling over it and my vibrator is the only way I can really get off anymore, so.

I am feeling a bit distant from The Pedant these days – I mean, we broke up and I had like half a year to process that and realize that he’s…really kind of an idiot in a lot of ways, and that he really didn’t give as good as he got in our relationship. I don’t know if it’s the frisson of feeling like he needs to “win me over” or if he was just particularly horny when he arrived, but The Pedant was hilariously thirsty. Like I let him in and it didn’t occur to me to hug or kiss him hello, and apparently he felt this lack and as we made small talk he hovered over me giving off palpable “touch me” vibes. I’d just made a plate of eggs and I was starving so I retrieved my food from the kitchen and set it on the couch and then I finally succumbed to the hug he so clearly wanted. He murmured in my ear that he’d “come prepared” like he’d promised (he’d offered to wear an old pair of boxers that I could cut off him with scissors). “Good,” I said evenly, “and I managed to find time today to wrap a couple of dog leashes around the top of my bedframe.” I use leashes as attach points for wrist and ankle restraints and he knows this. Just me saying that made him gasp and shudder. Fun! Dance, puppet, dance! He also asked me, in his low, slightly unsteady, turned-on voice, if the toys I used to use on him are still clean. I said yes and he said “you could probably convince me to let you use them on me tonight.” Uh-huh. He doesn’t really want ass play but he could be convinced to take a plug or dildo for my sake. Okay.

Between kisses he also asked me if I’m okay with our current “friends with benefits” status. Oh, is that what we are? He’s so fixated on unicorn-hunting with his girlfriend that he’s relegating me to not-a-relationship even though we’re interacting in exactly the same way we did when dating? Pfft, whatever. I said yeah, it’s probably fine.

After a minute or two of vertical snuggling in my living room The Pedant said “you should eat your eggs before they get cold.” I agree, and the only reason I hadn’t started already is that he didn’t let up his grip and I was too polite to struggle out of it. I turned around and stood there for a second surveying the couch area for the jar of mayo I knew was there somewhere (it’s the fat-craving week of my cycle and I’ve been putting mayo on everything). The Pedant took this pause as an invitation, or something, and stepped up behind me and put his arms around me again and started kissing the back of my neck. I visually located the mayo jar and tactfully waited thirty seconds before saying “ah, there’s what I was looking for” and disentangling. I curled up on my side to eat, leaning on one elbow. The couch is currently covered in a bunch of clutter because reasons, so there was barely room for just me, but The Pedant – catlike – insinuated himself into the clutter until he was spooning me from behind. He continued petting me and kissing my neck and shoulders as I ate. I told him about a recent triumph, posing for a highly publicized costumed drawing class and being generally adored and showered in compliments. This gig has a photographer who takes promotional pics for their Facebook page, and I said that I couldn’t wait to see the pics because I looked goddamned resplendent that night. “I’m sure you did,” The Pedant said softly, right in my ear. Ha ha he never gives a shit about my art gigs or thinks my costumes are sexy.

Part of me really did want to string him along and make him paint my kitchen a bit before we got down to fucking, but ultimately the time constraint/loud Hitachi conundrum won out and I took him straight to bed. Actually I told him I wanted to just lie down and digest my food for a few minutes before seguing to other things (*cough*). So I lay on my back on the bed and The Pedant barnacled himself to the side of my body with one leg thrown over mine and his face pretty much pressed against my cheek. He petted me a bunch and I gradually allowed myself to be won over to it, taking off my shirt and bra to allow more skin access. The Pedant doesn’t usually take an active role in bed, or even touch me back…except, come to think of it, when he knows I’m mad at him or feeling distant or needing to be won over. So in effect, the more love I felt for him back in the day, the shittier and more one-sided the sex got. What bullshit.

So for a long time I simply lay back and enjoyed The Pedant petting me, and I gave him some minimal pets back but didn’t shift my full attention to him. Eventually I said “Your face needs to be 100% more between my legs than it currently is” and – obliging but moving in slow motion because stupefied by arousal – he shifted his body downward and I squirmed out of the sweatpants I was wearing.

As an aside: The Dandy has never gone down on me. I pointed this out to him, once, doing that thing where I make an observation and then just wait to see what the other person says – and he simply agreed “nope, I haven’t” without giving any reasons and I didn’t dig further because if he thinks vulvas are disgusting or that giving head would make him submissive that’ll just irritate me. So for the most part I’ve been living in a cunnilingus-free universe. And it’s not even like I can get off that way anymore, but it still feels good, and I miss the intimacy.

The Pedant, conversely, is an enthusiastic rugmuncher, if a little haphazard and lacking in finesse. If I’m gonna get anywhere near orgasm I need someone to find my sweet spot and hit it rhythmically; he was just kinda doing this sporadic all-over-the-place thing that sometimes ground his scratchy beard into me in a painful way. But sometimes he accidentally did things that felt good, too, and it was a turn-on just feeling like he was submitting to me and doing my bidding and reveling in my taste and smell. I was so turned on, in fact, that after five or ten minutes when I decided to bring in my dildo and Hitachi and finish things off, I came three times in a row. Been a while since I felt like having a third. ūüôā Even after I set the Hitachi aside, The Pedant kept moving my dildo around inside me and gently stroking my clit, which gave ma a bunch of pleasant aftershocks. I called him a good boy and he did that little gaspy thing. He really digs the idea of being my slave. Normally, for whatever reason, he seems to attract women more on the submissive side so it’s a safe-ish bet his girlfriend doesn’t give him what I do. I bet he’s been feeling all kinds of backed up. ūüėõ

Eventually I told him to come up and lie on his back. I didn’t give him the kind of hours-long-marathon-of-hitting-his-erogenous-zones that he’s accustomed to from me (half revenge, half wanting to be done with possibly noisy stuff by 11pm) but I cuffed his wrists to the bed and cut his underwear off and jerked him off with a gloved, lubed finger up his ass (spoilers: the finger up the ass didn’t take any “convincing.” I simply got a nitrile glove out of the bedside table and put it on, and the sound of me doing so made The Pedant gasp in anticipation). It was fun and fascinating watching his face as I gently moved that finger inside him. As he approached orgasm I eased up on the finger movements so as not to distract him, then twitched my finger slow and steady just after he went over the edge and was actually coming. His whimpering sounds were epic.

And then of course he immediately fell fast asleep, as he does. I got up to pee and when I returned I had to nudge him over from the centre of the bed to make room for me. The realization that I was next to him made him start awake for a second and instantly turn and glomp onto me. He clung to me like a drowning man to a life preserver for most of the night.

He set his alarm extra early this morning – like two hours before he had to be at his job which is 20 minutes from my house – and he didn’t expressly say this but I think it was so there was time for us to cuddle. At least that’s how he ended up spending the extra time. Before he left, he kissed me, then knelt and kissed my pubic mound, then came up and kissed my mouth again. Prawr.

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Annoyed

As I said, between The Pedant using my place as a crash pad because it’s convenient to his work, “asking” for favours using the phrase “I’m gonna need you to…”, and being a gigantic starfish in bed, I’m feeling a bit taken for granted.

I’m also feeling like I’m being slotted into the role of Nurturing Feminine Type Person and it is ill-fitting as all hell on me. I am not a nurturer. I’m snuggly and physically affectionate and¬†I’m able to rally myself to help my loved ones in short bursts if they need it. But I’m very much not the “Awww, honey, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you” woman. When I help people it’s because I want them to be doing well, not because it particularly fulfills me as a woman or whatever. It really just exhausts me. Taking care of¬†myself exhausts me.

Now, I’m not saying that The Pedant is thinking of me as a cosmic titty, necessarily, or trying to make me into one. I’m doing at least some of this to myself. If someone I love is having a rough time and I have the capacity to help them, I have a really really hard time not doing it (let’s blame my mom¬†– I guess I’m not as “over” her conditioning as I thought). When The Pedant would say “I’m gonna need to crash here on Tuesday and Wednesday because if I don’t I’ll only get to have five hours’ sleep those nights,” I said okay even though it inconvenienced me. I couldn’t stand to be the reason for him being underslept. I even offered to have dinner ready¬†for when he got here at 10pm-ish, so that he’d be able to eat immediately and then go to bed (wake up time: 6am). The idea of having dinner ready for some dude when he got home made me feel like I was turning into a¬†Stepford wife¬†and it kind of turned my stomach, but I reassured myself that I wasn’t being¬†domesticated, I was doing a logical and helpful thing on a temporary basis (and he’s done logical and helpful things for me, too). The Pedant didn’t accept this offer, though; he bought food at the deli counter of the all-night grocery and ate before he arrived. He also referenced how I’ve said I sleep better than usual when I’m next to him, and how he was hoping that would be a way of “paying me back” for accommodating him. So I do think he’s aware of the precarious balance of things and trying not to overstep.

The fact remains, though, that within the past few weeks:

  • He’s crashed here numerous times, making it very clear that it was not to see me per se but just for the use of a bed
  • He’s had me pay both his phone bills for him because he didn’t have time – using my own money – and hasn’t paid me back yet
  • He had a few other errands he intended to send me out on (“I’m gonna need you to…”) but I said no

All this “I’m gonna need you to…” is making me feel like his personal assistant, not his partner. It also feels like he’s just assuming I’ll do all these things rather than actually legitimately asking me. Probably it’s really just a quirk of his speech but still. Actually the fact that he uses the word “need” probably hits my guilt buttons harder, too, than if he’d phrased it as “Hey could I stay over tomorrow so I can get more sleep?”

So I wanted some counterbalance, and had asked him to come over on Tuesday night specifically to focus on me. Pet me to sleep, maybe give me some orgasms first, etc. He ended up cancelling because he’d had a rough day at work and just wanted to be alone. Which irritated me because I’d let him crash here a bunch of times when¬†I would rather have been alone – or at least, would rather have not been woken up by his alarm at 6am when I didn’t have to wake up til noon – but fine, that was my fault for letting him infringe on me. It does nobody any good if I strongarm him into coming by when he doesn’t want to, though, so I just wished him happy alone-time and left it at that.

He did ask, via text, if I’d like him to come over on Wednesday, though. I said if he was up for lavishing attention on me, then yes, by all means. (Meaning: if you come over, don’t expect to be a little pillow princess like usual; arrive with intent to spend effort on me or don’t bother.) I could see that this message had been read, but he didn’t answer it. A few hours later I added some other thing as an afterthought; that, too, got read fairly promptly, but four hours later I’d still gotten no response. I haven’t slept well in about a million years and my anxiety is running high. I know this. I tried to talk myself down. Finally I caved and texted him “if it’s taking you this long to think about it, shall I assume it’s a no…?”

He said he’d been sleeping most of the day and that’s why he didn’t answer, but yes, he would come over. I refrained from pointing out that I knew he’d read the texts ages ago (I don’t want to be policing him like that. People are allowed not to respond to a text immediately! But at the same time though, it would have taken him a second or two to reply “yes” so WTF?). I just told him I was working til 4:30 so he should come by at 6. He said okay.

But of course at 5:30 last night I get a text saying “I probably won’t be by until after 8pm; I’m running late with all the errands I was going to do.” So there’s the first irritation.

He finally got here at about 9:30 (in fairness, part of that was popping into a dollar store for something I’d requested). His arrival interrupted me mid-shower and he never fucking has his copy of the keys on him so I had to get out to let him in.

We came upstairs and I finished my shower and by then he was naked, too. I kissed him and he immediately started moaning softly. This did not have its usual cachet for me; his arms (as usual) hung limply at his sides as he received my attention and that just fed into my feelings of being neglected and taken for granted.

Tangent: I haven’t been feeling fulfilled lately in our D/s. I’ve been consistently letting his tantalizing reactions lead me down the path of tying him up and having sex with him, which is fun and makes me feel in control up to a point (since I can make him squirm and moan and since he is helpless when restrained) but for the most part I’m not feeling dominant in the way that I’d like. I’d need to actually¬†make him do things for that; as it stands he’s just an object I’m acting upon, and doing all the things he would have wanted me to do anyway. It’s feeling kind of hollow.

Oh I would be remiss if I didn’t properly set the scene here by mentioning that I was (and am) PMSing like a MOTHERFUCKER right now. So definitely more cranky about small things than usual. But probably all of this stuff would have been at least a¬†little annoying to me even on a good day.

So anyway I requested a shoulder massage, and he complied. As usual, it felt from his body language (and constant chit-chat) that he wasn’t regarding this as¬†serving me in a D/s sense; simply as doing me a favour. In between periodically asking me “feeling better?” (as if wanting pleasant attention paid to my body is an¬†affliction, or as if he was wondering whether he’d fulfilled his perfunctory duties as my partner yet and we could move on to fun stuff) he made small talk about his day. Mostly, actually, small talk about¬†other women he’s interested in. First he lamented that he’s going to be at some goth event with the chick from work who he thinks is really cute but who probably isn’t compatible with him, so what on earth will he say to her? Then he talked about the condo that he and his other partner* will be moving into sometime in future, and how they’ll be decorating it. Then he asked me if I have any room on my credit card right now and when I said yes he was like “I may need you to put a couple of concert tickets on there. It seems more practical than aiming to buy them at the door and them maybe being sold out.” (The Pedant doesn’t have a credit card. He sometimes asks me to use mine, for things that require one, and he’d give me the cash. I mean he’s asked about the possibility a few different times but we never ended up actually doing it for whatever reason.)

And I’m sitting there thinking, “When I touch you I get¬†completely absorbed by your body’s reactions and can spend¬†hours in a¬†trance of running my hands over you and divining the very best ways and places to draw out pleasure. And this is what I get in return? An absent-minded massage while you¬†ask me to buy concert tickets for you and another woman? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

But I was PMSing so hard that I couldn’t figure out how to say any of this without being¬†waaaaaay too shouty and blamey and pessimistic.

I¬†did manage to casually say “Hey did you ever notice that instead of actually asking me to do things, you go ‘I’m gonna need you to…’ like I’m your personal assistant?” (And this did the double duty of distracting him from talking about other women…)

He claimed that he says that as a heads up that he’s going to ask me a thing, and then he does ask. I said no, I don’t actually recall him phrasing any of this stuff as a question, ever. There’s only ever the “I’m gonna need you to…”¬†He apologized.

I’d been sitting on the edge of the bed for the massaging. After my shoulders had been pummeled into a state of relaxation and I said it was enough, The Pedant flopped back onto my mattress and rested his head on his linked hands. I stretched out next to him head-to-toe and demanded¬†pettings. He began stroking me from my ass to the backs of my knees, still in a sort of absent-minded and perfunctory way, although at least he wasn’t talking anymore. I think he started dozing off; his fingers kept stopping mid-caress and I’d twitch my leg impatiently and he’d get going again. He asked “feeling better?” three or four different times during all of this and I started¬†replying¬†“if I want you to stop¬†I’ll let you know”¬†each time.

As usually happens when someone runs their fingers along the backs of my legs, the soles of my feet starting tingling in anticipation and wanting attention. The Pedant kept stopping at mid-calf, though. “My feet require your attention,” I said. He said okay (and didn’t seem to be dozing off anymore by this point; his caresses were steady and constant) but still just stroked down as far as my ankles. I actually had to prompt him again. Only then did he touch my feet – and it was to massage them.

I like having my feet rubbed. But I like them caressed¬†more, and caressing is what he’d been doing all the way down my legs, so the fact that he switched to a different mode of attention at my feet makes me wonder if he somehow¬†forgot¬†(AGAIN) that my feet are a major erogenous zone for me when petted, and assumed that my soles are ticklish like most people’s. That would be fairly infuriating as I’ve been his primary (and often¬†only) partner for a year or two now; it’s not like he has a whole bunch of women whose preferences he might confuse. I have flat-out told him on several occasions that I like my feet petted, and he has petted them and seen me howl in pleasure. Nothing else but orgasming makes me utter sounds as intense as when my feet are petted. And yet the memory of making me scream and thrash and hump the mattress apparently done slipped his mind. So again I say: I’ve given him hours upon hours of pleasure, tailored to his specific body with almost scientific precision – and¬†this is what I get back?

Honestly I feel kind of stupid for having such a weird erogenous zone, anyway. If a guy refused to touch my genitals I think I could muster some righteous rage because dude, wtf? If a guy keeps subtly avoiding touching my¬†feet, though, or doesn’t touch them quite the way I want, I feel awkward having to repeat the words again and again. So I received The Pedant’s reasonably adequate foot massage without telling him that I really wanted to be caressed.

Then I reversed myself so we were lying head-to-head and foot-to-foot again. I cuddled up to him and ran my hand over his torso and he started making the tiny little moans and whimpers that mean he’s receptive to sex. Cool, but I wasn’t going to let his seductive sounds distract me from my own needs and make it all about him again. I rolled onto my back, dragged his right hand onto my crotch, and said “pet me.”

He started stimulating my clit pretty hard and in a way I don’t like. “No, no; just pet me. Lightly. Tease me,” I said. He did the same uncomfortable clitoral stuff but with slightly less pressure. What I had¬†meant was that I wanted him to run his fingertips lightly over my whole vulva, not stab my clit like a doorbell. I took his fingers and tried to guide them to lightly stroke up the centre line, but that initial pushing of his hand to the bottom part made him assume that I wanted his fingers inside me. And I thought sure, fuck it, let’s do that. I didn’t¬†have the patience to explain every little thing right then; I’d probably snap and just start yelling “Why do you suck at everything?!?!?” and he doesn’t suck at everything so that wouldn’t be fair.

Fingerbanging is one of the things he does in a way I like. After a minute or two he got up and knelt between my knees for a better angle. I reached over the grabbed the Hitachi and – shockingly – he took it from me and wielded it himself.

When The Pedant is trying to get me off, he never just finds a thing that seems to get a good reaction out of me and then sticks with that. He seems to want to be all fancy and be trying different shit out all the time. Or maybe he’s just so socially tone deaf that he can’t¬†tell when I really like something so he’s just cycling through every technique he can think of, figuring once he hits something that works for me, confetti and flames will shoot out of my vag. I don’t know. But basically he kept changing things up every ten seconds. A lot of it did feel good, but too intense, like if I let it kick me over into orgasm it would¬†hurt. I told The Pedant this, and compared it to the time I way overfocused on the head of his cock during a hand job – it got him off but was way too much. I took the Hitachi from him and finished myself off while he slammed his fingers into me, and the orgasm was better than I’ve had in a long time (probably because¬†someone else was helping – my last bunch, even ones had with The Pedant, were entirely me).

After a quick pee break I cuddled up to The Pedant again and thought about maybe falling asleep. He was making tiny “oh hai there just so you know I’m up for sex” whimpers from my arm being across his chest, but hey, I’ve gotten him off without reciprocation a¬†bunch of times so I would give no fucks about passing out and leaving him hanging.

But I decided that I craved more penetration, so I got The Pedant all riled up and then used my legs to pull him on top of me. Interestingly, by now he was finally in sub mode and remained so despite being on top. He gasped when I rolled him on top of me and lifted himself up slightly to allow me to put his cock inside me if I chose to. Once he started thrusting I played with his nipples relentlessly, wanting to see how fast I could get him off, both for the thrill of power and because I was pissed off and PMSing and feeling neglected so I was damn sure not going to treat him to my usual hours-long extravaganza of attention. As soon as he came I kind of wished I’d allowed him to last longer so¬†I could have had more sex, but oh well.

And then when he rolled off me to fall asleep I shoved his hand to my crotch again and made him fingerbang me again while I got myself off.

The calibre of attention he gave me that night was not what I’d been seeking and I’m still pissed off about that. I don’t feel mollified. But I feel a tiny bit avenged.

This morning he said something stupid that pissed me off and I decided I’d had enough. He’d been going to crash here again tonight for convenience but I said don’t come by after all, I want the place to myself. He asked if it’s because I was still mad about his stupid¬†comment and I said I’m actually angry about a¬†few things lately but I’m also PMSing really hard so I’ve been trying to wait until after that to discuss it all.

All last night I’d been stewing and he hadn’t noticed at all, but¬†now he finally became solicitous. Suddenly he started talking about how he would help me back up my aging computer one day soon, and put all the stuff onto the newer one. When I walked him downstairs to lock the door behind him, he kissed me and murmured “We’ll talk soon and work things out, okay?” and even stood there massaging my temples and shoulders for a while. Seeing him get a little panicky was kind of vindicating. I can see that he wants to please and impress me, and that’s a good thing.

What’s not good is that he only wanted to please and impress me¬†once he realized I was becoming disenchanted with him. It doesn’t seem to occur to him to¬†do happy things for my body just as a matter of course, when I’m not angry and he’s not trying to suck up. So…that’s not great.

 

*I don’t really know what’s up, there. When this plan was first set in motion, he referred to her as a friend that he used to be seeing. They were going to move in as roommates – not “live together” in a romantic capacity – but she had apparently told him that the prospect of them fucking was not out of the question. Lately he’s been referring to her as a partner. I’m vaguely threatened by this whole moving-in thing anyway so I’m opting not to ask for details of whether he’s back to screwing her on a regular basis and that’s why the title change, or…?

 

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Teasing The Pedant

The other night, The Pedant crashed here solely as a convenience because my place is closer to his job than his is and he had a late shift and an early shift back to back. It’s obvious by how he framed it that he wanted to crash here, not visit me per se. Which is fine; I’m glad to help. But he just had to make a bunch of little digs about how I’d have to somehow keep my hands off him and refrain from fucking him.

Those little jokes pissed me off and this made me realize: I base a lot of my idea of myself around the fact that I have enormous self-control. He kept implying that I don’t – thereby doubting or negating one of the qualities I value most in myself. I did not like it.

He didn’t request that I sleep separately from him or anything. First off it’s my apartment so I don’t think he’d dare be so rude. Secondly he knows that I’m an insomniac and that having him next to me often helps me fall asleep (he even said later that he thought he could sort of “repay” my hospitality by helping me sleep better).

I’d had a really rough day that had stirred up all my anxiety and my shoulders were so tense they hurt. When he got here I asked him to massage me for a bit. He did (and asked me if I was feeling better literally every 15 seconds or so, which was a record even for him and the next time it happens I’ll call him out on it because wtf) and then he lay on his back on the bed and pulled me down so I was cuddled up to the side of him with my head on his chest. I had a little stress-release cry (which he seemed to recognize for what it was, and he shut up and held me through it – a thing he always claims he can’t do) and then focused on trying to doze off.

Except that the proximity of my naked body was clearly turning The Pedant on without me even doing anything.

My arm was slung across his midsection. As I concentrated on my breathing and tried to relax…I suddenly became aware of his erect cock tapping insistently on my elbow. ūüėÄ I don’t know if he was so turned on that it was pulsating or if he was flexing over and over again on purpose to try to get my attention, but yeah.

But he’d told me ahead of time that he needed to sleep and I’d just have to rein in my libido somehow, so I completely ignored this. An erection isn’t consent, after all.

A minute later I shifted the position of my legs and just my foot brushing against his made him moan. I casually shifted my arm so my elbow was away from his cock – incidentally running my hand up his arm in the process – and that made him moan, too. And okay, I’ll admit it, I knew by then that he wanted to fuck me but I’ll be damned if I would start anything up and prove his theory that I have no control with him.

And so I entered a battle of wills with him. I don’t think he knew it was a battle of wills. But I set out to make him use his words to ask for sex, without doing anything particularly sexual. I started cozily, companionably running my hand over his arm or stomach – places that are not thought of as erogenous zones. Just intermittently. He started moaning pretty much constantly. He caressed my back and arm in return, and I sighed and moaned as I always do when caressed; it’s not specifically sexual, he’s petted me to sleep like that many times and I’ve made the same sounds.

The Pedant shifted my arm to rest further up his torso, apparently so he could gain access to caress the side of my breast. Eventually his hand strayed delicately to my face (which just melts me omfg I had to rein in my response very carefully there) and even pushed his fingers into my mouth briefly. Then lifted my jaw and we kissed for a little bit. I kept waiting for him to push my hand onto his cock or nipple or tell me he wanted to have sex, but he did not. After a little kissing I went back to resting my head on his chest and just held still and tried to sleep again, but The Pedant continued making a steady stream of moans and whimpers even with me just lying there.

This whole charade had been going on for at least ten minutes. It seemed that if I didn’t break our stalemate it could go on a lot longer – which would normally be fun but he did need to sleep. It was around 1am by that point and he had to get up at 6:30.

I kissed his cheek and murmured in his ear “Do you want me to leave you alone so you can get some sleep?”

“No,” he said. And so I finally allowed myself the freedom to TOUCH ALL THE THINGS. In retrospect I wish I’d antagonized him just a wee bit more – pointing out his rude comments before and basically telling him to concede that I am the champion of control. Oh well.

“You have me too well-trained,” he said as I started kissing his nipples. “Just lying in your bed makes me crave being tied up and coming for your pleasure.” I am highly ambivalent about that particular approach to dirty talk. It’s…not unhot. I mean I guess he’s saying that all the hot sex with me has made him associate my bed with the sex, but technically his words skirt around the idea of me being hot or sexy or talented and make it sound like his body is just doing this automatic thing because mattress. Also I do love it when he comes but I think he may be a bit too convinced that it’s all I really need out of an encounter. The time before that that he was over, we were cuddling and I petted his chest and he instantly rolled spread-eagle on his back like I’d pushed a button. Like “Yay! It’s time to lie here like a beached whale while the nice lady pays attention to me!” I’ve gotten out of the habit of insisting on participation and reciprocation and I’m frankly feeling a bit taken for granted. I need to fix this.

Anyway. I limited the sex to a quickie, and went without an orgasm of my own, so that he could sleep. When he came it was epic. I was leaning on his wrists (not wanting to take the extra time to get out the restraints and buckle them on) and I leaned in to kiss him and that apparently sent him over the edge. I caught his moans in my mouth as he slid his hands out from under mine and wrapped them around my hips – not clamping down to make me stop thrusting, as he sometimes does; just I guess seeking to be closer to me. I kept slowly thrusting to milk every last possible bit of pleasure out of him and he gave me a bunch of wracking full-body shudders. I’m ninety-nine percent sure I gave him a crygasm. He even swallowed a bunch of times during it (and the tear glands and salivary glands are connected; I’ve noticed that when I cry, my mouth fills with spit). I tried to back up and look him in the face and he pulled my head into the crook of his neck so I couldn’t. Prawr.

He then fell asleep still in the exact centre of the bed. Sigh.

I’ll admit that I’m feeling taken for granted lately. There’s the way he accepts all my sexual attention without offering any back; there’s the way he falls asleep in the actual middle of my bed as though there isn’t another human present who’s at least as big as he is*; there’s the way he used my face as an actual pillow the other night; there’s the way he states things instead of asking (“I’m gonna need to crash here again on Thursday.” “I’m gonna need you to run some errands for me because I got last-minute overtime tomorrow so I won’t have time.”).

Plus of course the last bunch of times I’ve seen him were practical “crashing at my place” nights where there wasn’t much time for us to hang out or anything (and we didn’t have sex except for the time mentioned above).

I had actually asked him to come over tonight; I have to get up really early tomorrow and was hoping he could lavish me with attention that would hopefully put me to sleep at a decent time. When I asked him this, I’d believed he was working another crazy early shift and we’d actually have to get up at the same time. Turns out that shift had been cancelled and he has tomorrow off – but he agreed to come pet me, anyway, and wake up at 6:30 for no good reason. That made me happy; I was frankly super surprised he’d volunteer to do that, what with his hectic schedule lately. I assumed that with him suddenly having the day off, he’d want to go home and sleep in.

And he does. He texted me this afternoon cancelling our plans.

So… yeah.

I’m not super mad over the cancellation but I do feel like I need to address the imbalances I’m feeling sometime soon. Be more proactive on calling out his behaviour while it’s happening, and stuff. And demand to be the focus of attention more often in bed. Because that’s another thing – our D/s isn’t fulfilling me too much lately and I think it’s because it’s taken the form of me binding and gagging him while getting him off…and that’s about it. I’ve been weirdly timid about asserting myself to ask for things he’s less enthusiastic about, and as such I’m not feeling dominant, I’m feeling like a fantasy facilitator. I need to get my mojo back. But it’s a bit of a vicious cycle; feeling sexually used is somewhat killing my libido, which gives me less motivation to randomly be like “You! Come here and get me off now,” which makes me wanna watch him come in order to get me kickstarted, and then he’s asleep so I just take care of my own pleasure.

 

*I confronted him about this and he said “Just push me over when that happens.” Well, I guess that’s better than if he’d acted fully entitled to the whole bed and got cranky if I tried to claim my part of it. Still though. There are two of us. It’d not rocket science that after the sex he should scootch over.

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Goddammit.

I just got the weirdest feeling that The Mensch – an excellent prospect* who broke things off with me exactly a month ago – had actually committed himself to a dominant, and I checked his FetLife profile and sure enough he’s listed as “in service to” someone as of three days ago.

Goddammit.

When we were dating (both times), we seemed to have a huge and fantastic chemistry. The first time around, he left to pursue some vanilla chick (despite having said in the ad I met him through that he’d had enough of vanilla and now was the time he would finally bust out and pursue his dreams of kink and submission…). The second time around, he was overthinking everything to death. He told me that he didn’t know for sure that his kinky fantasies would turn him on in real life and he didn’t want to “lead me on” by entering into some big relationship with me and then realizing that none of the way he’d portrayed himself was actually true. I was like “Look, you don’t have to enter into some major D/s thing, and you don’t have to try everything at once. We could just try one small little thing that you’ve fantasized about, in a casual one-off capacity, and you can see how it feels, and then if you wanted we could try another. Or do that with someone else. Whatever. But my point is, it’s not a horrible thing to tell someone ‘I’m not absolutely sure I’ll like this thing but could we try it?'”

He seemed interested in exploring with me, but didn’t actually say okay to any of it. He continued angsting about how he just doesn’t knoooooow and it would be so unfaaaair to me and I pretty much wanted to yell “SHIT OR GET OFF THE POT FFS” – not to push him into playing with me but because I was so very sick of his whiny vacillations. That first time I dated him – when he put up the ad saying NO MOAR VANILLA EVAAAAR! – that was three years ago. And even back then he was saying that he’d known he was kinky/submissive for years; he just kept falling into vanilla relationships where he was afraid to bring it up. Well, here I am – again – into him and compatible with him as far as anyone knows and willing to gently experiment with his fantasies. So what’s the problem?

Our first date had been absolute alchemy; we talked over coffee for six hours about all manner of things, leaning in close to each other as if magnetized and mirroring each others’ body language unconsciously and just generally having an effortless rapport; then we found a secluded alley and made out for a good fifteen minutes with me alternately being sensual and a little rough and his erection gouging into my pelvis the entire time. The next day he sent me an email with pics of him in lingerie, taken just for me because I’d inspired him. And he said he’d never before been on the receiving end of such voracity as I’d shown him when we made out, and he loved it.

Our second date was when most of the angsting took place, and he was seeming a bit distant. When I went to kiss him at the end he said he didn’t want to get into a whole huge makeout thing again, and I was fine with that; we were in a much more public place than last time.

And then when I asked him out on a third date he replied that he’d decided we wouldn’t be sexually compatible so he was now only open to friendship with me. Interesting. His obvious erection during our making out (and semi-constant one when we were just talking; he would mention it every now and then, or give me a pointed look and subtly adjust himself) would seem to disagree with that assessment. It seemed to me that he was just being a big conflicted chickenshit. I even told him that this kinda seemed like a case of him panicking because he was right on the brink of getting some things he’d wanted for years and years. But I didn’t ask him to reconsider or anything. That kind of shit is beneath me. I simply pointed out that I felt he was doing this due to feeling conflicted, and then I wished him luck in his future endeavors.

And now – a month later – he not only has a dominant, but he considers the relationship entrenched and official enough to have listed it on FL.

Here’s a weird thing, though: her profile identifies her as mostly a lesbian and mostly a sub. She’ll dominate a man but it kinda sounds like she doesn’t sleep with them. Is this why she made the cut and I didn’t? Because she relieves him of his all-consuming worry of misleading a dominant sexually?

Also, by the way, she’s in her 20s and specifically states that what she really really wants right now is a dominant woman at least ten years her senior. I most certainly would not feign bisexuality and entice her into falling for me so that The Mensch would feel neglected and overshadowed. But the idea is making for some really good daydreams. ūüėÄ

 

*Excellent because he was smart and very cute and had a general kink outlook (and some specific kinks) compatible with mine. The big fly in the ointment being that he was conflicted about his submission.

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Pedant stuff

The Pedant just stayed over for a couple of nights.

We’d texted briefly a while back about how much disclosure we want re: each others’ other partners (this was after I banged his friend The Dandy and immediately told him because it seemed like the thing to do). The consensus was that we don’t need to hear about every little thing, just stuff that might have an impact on our relationship.

I had assumed that The Pedant was casually dating or sexing some people, just like I have been, and we just hadn’t bothered saying anything about it because who cares. But recently he’s been making these very formal announcements that women are interested in him. Not that he’s fallen in love with someone (which to my mind is the main thing that might affect our relationship, and on my end I mostly wouldn’t bother telling him about anything less), just that someone he likes asked him out. So now I’m wondering whether he actually had a lot less stuff going on than I’d assumed.

Anyway. He told me a bunch of stuff about what he’s got going on partner-wise when he was over. And in the process, he mentioned that OtherGirl – the one from last summer that he decided to be monogamous with and kinda broke my heart – has finally responded to an email of his from ages ago. It wasn’t specifically a let’s-get-back-together email (although he’s open to that, I think). He just likes her and wants her in his life in whatever capacity she’ll offer. He also said that one of his suitors seems unsure about being poly and he wonders whether she’ll demand monogamy of him as they begin to get closer. All of which made my stomach go a little bit floopy.

I mean, the news about OtherGirl breaking her silence made me say “Oh, good!” warmly and genuinely. He was really sad about that whole thing imploding and now at least it seems like she’ll be friends with him, and I want him to be happy. Also, since he’d already tried to do the monogamy thing with her in particular but couldn’t manage to stay away from me, I feel like she doesn’t pose too much of a threat. But the threat level isn’t zero, either, and the news that some other new chick might want him all to herself made me pretty antsy. Because, y’know…he’s bailed on me for someone else before. And this someone else is an unknown quantity; this someone else might make him fall head over heels in love to a point where I’m just totally obliterated from his mind.

So he told me about this maybe-not-all-that-poly new suitor, and I kept my voice nonchalant and asked “So…if she does want monogamy, what are the chances that you’ll give it to her?”

He said the chances are slim to none because look what happened last time. I rolled the idea around in my head that he might have meant “I can’t be monogamous to someone else because, as we know from experience, I’m too into you not to fuck you.” But I know better than to assume that anything The Pedant says is a declaration of feeling toward me. I either asked for clarification or he added on his own: “I offered monogamy to her and then she dumped me.”

This is a weird thing for him to say because it implies that she dumped him because he offered her monogamy and that’s not what happened. The relationship ended for other reasons. Also, though:

“It…kinda sounds like you’re saying you’re eschewing monogamy solely because there’s no guarantee that that a relationship will last forever,” I said.

“No, no. It’s more like, I’ve put a lot of work into my current relationships, and it seems ridiculous to just drop all of that for someone else. I mean, let me put it this way: even if OtherGirl wanted to be with me again and wanted me all to herself, I wouldn’t go for it. Because look what happened last time – I asked her for exclusivity and she broke up with me just a few weeks later.”

“Okay, but again, you’re talking about this like if you knew the person wanting monogamy would stay with you forever, you would toss everyone else aside.”

The Pedant insisted that’s not what he meant and that it was really more a matter of loyalty to his current, long-standing partners. I call bullshit on that since the whole “but what if I commit to just one person and she immediately breaks up with me” thing came up twice. But there never is a guarantee of forever, on any relationship, so either way I suppose I’m safe from the cull for now.

Oddly, The Pedant went on to say that OtherGirl had never realized he was so serious about her; apparently she thought he was basically just using her for sex. “But…you asked her to be exclusive with you. She even broke things off with other people to be with you.” He said that somehow even that didn’t clue her in that he considered things serious – and added that she was only seeing one other person, anyway, and wasn’t all that into said other person. He said she wasn’t poly per se, just in a casually dating around phase. This is in direct conflict with what he told me before. I don’t believe he lies to me but he certainly seems to interpret events in whatever way suits him and then change his interpretation later. It bothers me. I value consistency in people.

Anyway. I’m not worrying about his other partners at the moment. I’m aware that maybe something will happen down the road that disrupts The Pedant and I. But I’m sure that won’t be for a while, if at all. He’s understated in his behaviour toward me but he has said some stuff here and there about how I seem to “get” him more than most people, and that fundamental parts of his nature that I really like have been grounds for other people breaking up with him. He’s not taking me for granted. I do think he meant it at least a little when he said he wouldn’t want to give up our long-standing relationship for something new.

A little after that conversation we had another round of our same old argument where I tell him that he’s good at dealing with people’s mental issues – or mine, anyway – and he keeps arguing that he’s not. I told him that no, he has excellent instincts – with me, at least – and I cited the other day when he talked me down from a big anxiety fit.

He kept shaking his head no and he said “I don’t engage well with other people’s emotions. I never have.”

“You’re not engaging with my emotions, though. And I don’t want you to. This is not emotions. This is simple ‘if/then’ statements. If X, then Y.”

“Then why did you use the word ‘instincts’?”

“…Hmmm. You’re right. I misspoke. Let’s say ‘problem solving skills’ instead.”

“Yeah, well, most people don’t want problem solving. They want empathy.”

“But, I mean…imagine if someone was drowning in the middle of a lake. What’s gonna help them more, someone drowning right next to them going ‘oh, I know, this just sucks, doesn’t it?’ or someone standing on the shore with a rope?

“In my experience, most people prefer to have someone drowning next to them.”

“Well, they’re stupid.”

I told The Pedant that for quite some time now I’ve considered¬† anxiety and depression to be a red flag in a potential partner because I know from experience that when I’m around people with the same mental issues as me, we tend to exacerbate each other. Wind each other up or bring each other down or whatever. He said yeah, sometimes there’s a really obvious “fatal flaw” waiting to destroy a relationship and if you can see one of those, you should just run, no matter how amazing the person is. He said that with him and that one ex gf from years ago (who is totally his “one who got away” – turns out they were only together for two weeks but he’s never stopped being sad over her) the fatal flaw is that he can’t read nonverbal cues and needs people to be blunt, while she is made up entirely of nonverbal cues and assumes everyone will understand her. And this backfired spectacularly.*

Hearing him say that reinforces for me that I am good for him. And he knows I’m good for him.

All this talking, btw, happened in the hours directly after The Pedant arrived. Normally I fuck him immediately but he had warned me ahead of time that he would need some time to decompress from work first. And indeed, when he did his customary disrobing upon entering my home, he left his boxer briefs on as a pretty unsubtle hint that his junk was off limits.

After we’d eaten and talked a bunch, we watched some episodes of Archer while The Pedant petted me, which always lulls me into a sleepy stupor. I was half-dozing when he said “We should move to the bed.” I murmured my agreement but was too comfy and lazy to get up just yet. I remained lying on the couch and The Pedant went to the bathroom. When he came out again, he’d taken the boxer briefs off and was kind of standing over me with his cock already slightly inflated, waiting for me to acknowledge him.

Truth be told I was genuinely tired and ready for bed by that time, but I couldn’t bear to refuse the bounty being offered to me so plainly. As soon as I got up and pressed my body against his, he got an erection. So hot. Dance, puppet, dance!

I kept the sex more brief than usual because I really was tired. But as I rode him I said “mine” and it made his breath hitch, which I loved. A few thrusts later I said “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

Immediately, without any shyness or hesitation, The Pedant whispered, “I’m yours.” And a few minutes later as he got to the edge he said it again, unbidden: “I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yoooouuurs–“and then he shuddered with coming and that set off a full-out braingasm in me that made me shudder, too. And I put my face in the crook of his neck and had a little happy-cry, still knelt on top of him with his softening cock inside me.

Maybe he only likes the idea of being “mine” on a sexual level and it’s not any big declaration of devotion, but I’ll take what I can get.

 

*I believe the story is that The One Who Got Away is bi, and she and The Pedant discussed the possibility of a threesome with an old fuckbuddy of his. She was on board. The fuckbuddy was propositioned and she too was on board. But a day or two before the threesome was supposed to happen, The Pedant went and fucked the fuckbuddy one-on-one. TOWGA had been under the impression that she and The Pedant were exclusive and just looking for a unicorn to spice up their relationship, so she felt totally betrayed by The Pedant sexing the other chick. She deemed it cheating and/or told him he was stupid not to realize it would upset her, and she dumped him.

 

 

 

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“Extreme”?

The Pedant is so baffling. Last time he was here he told me he met someone he might date, except maybe not because she’s sexually submissive and he’s not into that.

I was like “Really? I was under the impression you’ve been toppy with most of the people you’ve ever dated.”

He said yeah, he does get a little toppy, because most women seem to like a bit of aggression. But it’s important to him to have partners who will initiate sex with him, not make him do it all the time, and he feels that women who are full-out submissive will fail him in that regard. So I guess these women he topped were just vanilla chicks who liked a man to be a bit forward with them?

Here’s the part that’s incredibly weird to me: he went on and on about how he’s nowhere near “extreme” enough as a top/dom to want to get involved with a bona fide submissive – and he cited a picture he once saw of our friend Pixie and her boyfriend (who is her dom) as an example of extremeness that wigged him out.

I’ve seen the picture he’s talking about; Pixie posted it on Fetlife. It is literally just her boyfriend pulling her head back by the hair and looking down into her eyes (I assume by their respective head-levels she’s kneeling¬† and he’s standing but the picture cuts off at her chest). The connection between the two of them is palpable and totally hot, but, I mean…all he’s doing is holding her head by a fistful of hair.

Mind you, The Pedant once bragged to me that he could tell just by looking if a woman was into being choked (although apparently he can’t because he tried applying pressure to my throat during sex a time or two and HAHAHA NO). He once bragged to me about going down on a woman until she was so overstimulated that she scrambled backward to get away from him and he grabbed her ankle and slowwwwwwly pulled her back down the bed, relishing the conflict in her eyes.

I expressed incredulity that pulling a woman’s hair was apparently that big a deal to him, and reminded him that apparently he’s a connoisseur of choking women; he gave me one of those defensive nothing-answers where there’s a lot of talking but afterwards you realize the person never really communicated anything.

It’s true that most women – even vanilla ones – seem to crave a man who plays the aggressor in bed in some capacity. And I know that a lot of guys develop a totally fake “aggressor” persona in order to play to that and score more chicks or whatever, and that many of these men are in fact submissive. I’m kinda wondering if that’s The Pedant’s deal. When we were first dating he was forever pushing me up against walls to kiss me and physically repositioning me in bed and shit like that, but once he finally realized that I prefer to be the one doing those things, he relaxed into it and now he is only a sub/bottom with me. Maybe he’s realized that subbing/bottoming is so totally where he authentically belongs that he no longer wants to top anyone because it feels wrong. But instead of saying that, he’s playing it off like he was never a top in the first place.

I mean I guess I don’t actually care or anything. What he does with other people doesn’t affect me. I just value consistency in people and it distresses me when they change – especially when they claim that they didn’t change and were actually like this all along.

But seriously? Getting all squeamish over a photo of a dom *holding his sub by the hair*? So surreal.

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But.

Despite my ham-handed sexing of The Pedant, when I asked if he:d generally liked being gagged and thought it was worth doing again, he issued a decisive “yes.” Which is good news for two reasons: 1) He clearly still trusts me to handle his delicate¬† bits even when he’s physically unable to give direction and 2) I rather liked gagging him, too, so I’m glad he’s down to do it again.

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