Tag Archives: Dandette

Bright spot

In the midst of all the other bullshit lately, there was an evening where Dandette was in a good place mentally and The Dandy for once wasn’t holed up in our bedroom on his computer ignoring us all night. Instead he opted to watch the same YouTube stuff he would have watched in there on the living room tv, instead, and Dandette and I were both in there as well working on craft projects.

At one point The Dandy made a terrible pun and Dandette piled on a few more, as they are wont to do. I was tired and off my game that day though so I didn’t have it in me to join in like I often do. I simply said “Just so you know, I hate you both” without looking up from my knitting.

“But…but…boobs!” Dandette said. I looked over and she was grinning and flashing me.

“Yeah okay fine,” I said, relenting. Boobs are neat. It’s hard to hold a pretend grudge around them.

The Dandy, on the other side of me, said “I don’t have boobs to offer, but, uh…” and took his dick and balls out of his pajama bottoms for me to admire. I bent and kissed him on the penis and we all went back to watching YouTube together.

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In addition to my recent fights with The Dandy, I’ve just been feeling generally insecure lately. It’s my anxiety or PMS or something, I dunno.

A few nights ago as we were falling asleep I asked him to tell me something he likes about me. He said “your compliments.” He said that the last time I asked for validation from him, too. Can he not think of anything else? Something about who I am and not just how I make him feel? I mean, I guess this means it’ll be simple to keep him happy and into me: I just have to keep on doling out praise. I can do that even if I’m depressed or anxious and the whole rest of my personality is caving in on itself. So that’s oddly reassuring…and yet it’s still depressing as shit. The Dandy is not a person who gives compliments, so these times of me asking “what do you like about me?” are just about the only times he says nice things. And all he’s been able to say about me is that I say nice things about him. Not that he loves my sense of humour or the way I’m a jack-of-all trades artistically or the way we’ll sometimes stay up late talking and end up laughing our asses off at some shared joke. *Sigh.*

Last night after our fight I asked if he liked living with two girlfriends. The second I said it, I realized that this went against my rule of not asking anything I can’t handle the answer to: I was not prepared to hear anything negative. I was straight-up compliment-fishing, and that’s dangerous. I almost said “actually, don’t answer that” but I figured meh, he’s not gonna say anything bad. He knows Dandette and I have no place else to even go, so why on Earth would he plant a seed that he doesn’t want us there? That would just be shitty. Plus he seemed gung ho for me to move in and made a conscious decision to partially financially support Dandette and I. So yeah. He’ll say nice things.

What The Dandy actually did say was “I don’t mind it…”

Well fuck.

He did go on to say that our living situation makes it hard for him to get time alone with either of us, and that’s a problem he has with it. So that’s kind of sweet. I told him that in case he’s not aware, I am totally good with him taking Dandette out for dinner on occasion (or whatever) and I’ll just hang out at home. I mean as long as he takes me on dates sometimes, too. But I definitely don’t feel like we have to do everything together as a threesome. I want for him to have a separate and distinct relationship with each of us. I’m not sure he realized before that I’d be okay with him having individual “date nights.” I would imagine Dandette would be, too, again as long as they didn’t seem to all be going to one person. So that was a useful thing to uncover, I guess.

Still, though. When we finally get a three-bedroom place, I will so totally spend a shitload of time in my room ignoring him. He’s been pretty subtle about it (he doesn’t act overtly irritated that I’m around) but it does bother him that we share a bedroom. Like he’s explicitly said several times that he wishes he could have his computer in its own room so he can be on the internet and nobody will be around him or bothering him. Most of the time that we’re in the bedroom together I’m doing my own thing and not talking to him, anyway, but maybe just my presence bugs him a bit. I dunno. But I often don’t want to hang out in the living room, for various reasons, so here we are. Once I have my own space I want to really have a much more separate life than I’ve been living these past few months. And not just for The Dandy’s sake, either.

Tangent: Dandette has a running joke where every time the three of us are cuddled up together or we both come to the door when he gets home to kiss him hello or something, she’ll sarcastically say to The Dandy, “Oh your life is just so hard, isn’t it?” – either she’s being spectacularly obtuse or she’s saying it because she knows that a lot of aspects of the two-girlfriends thing are hard for The Dandy and she’s trying to convince herself otherwise. She also jokes constantly that The Dandy must feel like King Shit for having the two of us – and admittedly the first time or two that he sandwiched in between us to watch moves, he did look smug as all fuck. But he seems thoroughly over that phase now and I think all her remarks are starting to irritate him. He won’t say so, though, and I’m not inclined to intervene because it’s not really my problem. But I notice.

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The orgasm talk

I was planning on sitting The Dandy down for a big talk about orgasms and the giving thereof, sometime when we were calm and awake and had a good amount of time. I ended up just quickly touching on the subject last night while we were falling asleep.

I think it came about when I was recounting another part of Dandette’s and my sex convo from yesterday: I told her how submissive men often think that a dominant woman’s power stems from her not having any sort of sex drive, so she can keep a guy aroused and (therefore) obedient/stupid while haughtily laughing at him from on high. In other words, the porny stereotype is that dominant women don’t have any need for orgasms. Dandette said that a lot of dominant men seem to think that submissive women don’t need orgasms! I guess the idea is that a submissive woman is just a dick-receptacle and that fulfills her all on its own, just like I’ve joked previously that The Dandy and The Pedant seem to feel. I actually didn’t realize that this was a common attitude in dominant men, but it doesn’t surprise me.

And I was like “What an interesting coincidence that submissive and dominant women both just happen to never want orgasms. Why, it’s almost as though men are just looking for excuses to be lazy in bed!” and Dandette laughed.

So I told The Dandy about all that convo (making sure to add in some commentary on how ridiculous it is to think a kinky woman wouldn’t get turned on from enacting her kinks and want to get off, AHEM) and then on the spur of the moment I added something like “Oh, speaking of women and pleasure: I would really love it if you offered to get me off sometimes even if we didn’t already have sex. I mean, I’m almost always up for it, even if I haven’t initiated anything. And as I’m sure you’ve noticed, I really like touching you and tasting you and watching you come, so I’ll just…do that, sometimes, out of the blue. I want to feel like you enjoy doing that for me, too, and aren’t just doing it to be polite because I got you off first. …I mean, you do like making me come, don’t you?”

The Dandy smiled and nodded. I’m sure he knew that there was no other answer he could reasonably give if he wanted to get to sleep that night. But for whatever it’s worth I felt like there was no hesitation there. It may have been legit. And he has started to seem more into making me come, lately. He usually focuses enough that the Hitachi doesn’t wander onto my thigh, and he’ll keep going after I come just in case there’s more in the queue.

I’m having a bunch of thoughts and feelings, here, some of which conflict with each other, but here goes:

I wonder whether he’s not in fact lax about giving orgasms in general, but lax with Dandette only? I do kind of tell him to get me off every time we have sex, but perhaps if I didn’t, he still would? I dunno. I know that in the past she’s been critical of his topping skills and I think it’s made him all sexually flinchy and weird, so maybe he’s scared to try to get her off, just in case she says he didn’t do it right (even though he’s managed okay before…). I think the fear makes him overthink and get up in his head and that may be why he kept Hitachi-ing my leg and lower stomach in the early days; he may have been focusing so hard on keeping up the rhythm and motion I wanted that he completely forgot to compensate for drift. Or maybe it was a vicious cycle where he got bored because I was taking a while but I was taking a while because he kept drifting off my clit. Nowadays I’m getting pretty fast, with him. And I think he enjoys the idea that he’s making me all helpless n shit, too. (God, it would be terribly ironic if he doesn’t get Dandette off because she takes a while and/or is very restrained in her reactions (I don’t know if either thing is the case) and it’s boring for him. The other day I gave him a hand job and it ended up taking at least ten minutes and my wrist was fucking killing me and as usual he lay there the whole time like he was composing a grocery list in his head, until his actual orgasm, during which he breathed audibly a few times, and ejaculated, obviously, but that’s it).

If it does turn out that he’s into getting me off more than getting Dandette off, she and I are both probably going to figure that out, and that’ll be awkward. I think she’s mature enough not to blame me for it but still.

I wonder whether my talk with The Dandy will change anything? I somewhat suspect not. The Dandy reminds me of my ex husband, unfortunately, in that I can sit him down and earnestly tell him a thing I need from him and he’ll nod and smile but not do the thing. I wish he (and my ex) had just fucking told me outright “Yeah, I’m not gonna do that” so I could decide how much of a dealbreaker it was for me. But no.

And like, whenever people have relationship problems it seems like the biggest piece of advice is “talk it out!” like the assumption is that the person with the issue is staying completely silent or passive-aggressively hinting and basically expecting the other person to read their mind, and obviously if they’d just start a frank and open discussion, headway could be made. Well what if I fucking am frank and open and the other person makes a show of listening to my needs but then proceeds to ignore them? I did the magic thing that cures all ills – I had the talk – and it did not do anything. So now what? I never see advice columns etc address that. It’s always just “well, mention your concerns!” There might be a script for how to mention the concerns in a tactful way that’s more likely to open the lines of communication than put the other person on the defensive. But that’s the end of the advice; there’s no postscript of “…and if he won’t actually engage in a discussion with you, here’s how to handle that.”

Next time The Dandy tries to initiate sex by taking out his dick and waving it at me, I’m gonna take out my Hitachi and wave it at him and see what he does. Luckily, I am good at noticing body language and figuring out what people want that way, but The Dandy’s habitual lack of Using His Words just irritates the shit out of me and I’ve been making a point lately of ignoring his body language sometimes to see if he’ll break down and say what he wants. This morning I was petting his cock and he got hard. And stayed hard. And didn’t pre-emptively pull the blanket over himself to cover it/block me. I was enjoying his taste and texture for its own sake (and my wrist is still sore from the handjob the other day) so I opted not to proceed to, shall we say, goal-oriented touching. I would have, if he’d asked me for sex or an orgasm. But he didn’t. He just lay there either enjoying my touch for its own sake or silently waiting for me to cut to the chase, I’m not sure. Finally he had to get up and get ready for work so he jumped in the shower. I hope he didn’t jerk off in there. I want him to feel backed up all day. A little lesson in what it feels like to be turned on but not get to come. πŸ˜€



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Got to talking about sex with Dandette today and she let it drop that The Dandy hasn’t gotten her off since January. Now, granted they were broken up for a few months since then. But they’ve been back together for, what, two months now? Three? And I know she’s given him blowjobs and they’d had penetrative sex. I kind of assumed that The Dandy made sure to get her off in return, ’cause that’s what polite people do. But apparently he just assumed that giving him an orgasm was the pinnacle of achievement for her as a woman and she couldn’t possibly want anything more. Or something.

Why are so many men like this? Why?!?

Now, granted, she also hasn’t beenΒ asking him to get her off; she says she feels presumptuous doing so (I guess because they ostensibly have a dom/sub relationship?). But still. It strikes me as pretty much a no-brainer that if one person initiates sex with another, it’s likely because they themselves want to get off and they’re offering a barter. Or, they really are initiating purely selfishly because they want to be close to their partner and give them pleasure and all that, but chances are all that closeness and moaning and blah blah blah will be a turn-on and all that sexual energy will need a release.

Maybe sex isn’t a turn-on like that for everyone; I get that. But it seems kind of insane for a guy to just assume that his female partner doesn’t want to come during a sexual encounter. Could you even imagine the outrage if a woman habitually rolled over and fell asleep after getting off, leaving her partner hard and dying to come? She’d be regarded as the worst kind of monster.

I’d already been planning on having a talk with The Dandy along the lines of “Hey y’know what would be nice? If you ever, ever initiated getting me off without me having to ask. You know, like I do for you on a regular basis.” Now it strikes me that this talk is even more necessary.

I also told Dandette that I do ask The Dandy to get me off and he’s never actually said no (not during/after sex, anyway. I’ve certainly turned to him while we watched tv or something and declared that I was horny and he did his awkward chuckle thing and just kept on watching the screen). So I don’t think there’s much rejection risk in her asking him, too. I said if she feels like it’s not very sub-like to ask him outright, she could always make a show of begging for it.

I hope things resolve okay between the two of them. This whole thing is giving me vicarious clit pain.


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Arts and Crafts Time!

Last night we finally used the Clone-A-Willy kit I bought a while back. My plan was to be able to make silicone replicas of The Dandy’s pretty, pretty cock any time I wanted. The mold-making process was pretty fun and The Dandy stayed hard easily during the entire process. It probably helped that Dandette and I conducted the entire thing topless, and that when I had an excess of lube on my hands from greasing up The Dandy’s pubes (so they wouldn’t dry in the molding material and get ripped out) Dandette had me wipe them off on her tits. Also though he only really had to stay hard for two minutes. But I know a lot of guys who wouldn’t be able to do that.

Unfortunately, Dandette cut the molding tube a bit too short, so The Dandy’s penis ended up pressed against the end of it rather than just, like, suspended in the jelly stuff. So any penis we make with this mold will have a flattened, urethra-less tip. I’m disappointed, but not particularly angry; if I were doing the mold-making myself I’m sure I would’ve fucked it up in some different way. Dandette has worked as a prop-maker for film and television so she knows how to mold things well.

So now I’ve bought two more kits: one to make a silicone dick, and one to make a chocolate dick. Same exact kit, just with different substances to put in the finished mold. I figure we can use the chocolate in our current, flawed mold to see just how badly it’s distorted (instead of using the expensive silicone stuff that came with it), and we’ll have two more chances to re-mold his dick properly. When it’s time to make some penises, we’ll have the flesh-coloured silicone from the first (failed) kit plus the hot pink from one of the new kits to play with.

Dandette actually knows of a sculpture supply store that sells all the things we’d need to make Dandy dicks, but their silicone isn’t pre-coloured; it’s just whitish-clear and you have to mix pigment in yourself. And the pigment is all boring colours, nothing fluorescent or glow-in-the-dark. Plus they obviously don’t carry anything as specific as dick-tubes so we’d have to get a mailing tube or a piece of PVC pipe or I dunno. It just seemed simpler and probably cheaper to buy a couple more penis-specific kits from pinkcherry.ca.

Anyway, wish me luck. I really want a Dandy dildo or three one day. πŸ˜€ It’d be cool if The Pedant would let me mold him, too, but I suspect he wouldn’t and I further suspect that he wouldn’t be able to stay hard for those two awkward stimulation-free minutes of holding a tube of goo motionless on his dick. And anyway it wouldn’t surprise me if Dandette and I use up the other two just trying to get The Dandy’s mold right.

Oh by the way I measured the tube from the failed mold. As you recall, the tube was cut too short – exactly the length of The Dandy’s dick rather than a little longer to allow space for molding paste. So now I know the length of The Dandy’s erection without having to actually measure him and look like I think he’s lying. It’s about five inches.

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It began when Minx texted me the other day saying she wore her Aneros (a prostate stimulator) to go grocery shopping. I said that must have given her some pretty weird Pavlovian associations with produce. Then I did a browser search for the term “sexy banana” on my phone and sent her some of the images that came up. Including this one because it was hilariously bizarre. Then I remembered I have pic on my phone, taken months ago to ply the nice paying gentlemen of Phrendly.com, in which I have a banana wedged in my cleavage and am licking the tip. So I sent that, too.

Then I remembered telling Dandette about Phrendly and her being like “but you would text-flirt with me for free, right?” so I went ahead and sent her my banana pic, too, just because. And she said this would be the start of a sexy banana pic war.

I forgot all about this until she came home from the grocery store an hour or so ago, stood in the bedroom doorway with a big bunch of bananas she’d just bought, and said “IT’S ON.”

Then she had to pop over to a different store to get some stuff the other one didn’t have and I was like “DANDY C’MERE YOU GOTTA HELP ME” (he’s working from home today). And quick-fast while Dandette was at the store I stripped, half-peeled one of the bananas, laid it on my stomach, and splattered mayonnaise on my tits. Then I pushed my breasts together (and hid my nipples under my fingers) and had The Dandy take a cell phone pic of my torso and I texted it to Dandette.

She is now home once again and came in and told The Dandy “As soon as Cowgirl leaves for work I’m gonna need your help with something.”

This is gonna be fun. πŸ˜€

What’s really killing me is that I can’t stop giggling about all of this, and The Dandy asks “what?” every single time, and I’m like “There’s not a new thing. I’m still laughing at the fact that I had you take a banana tittyfuck picture of me, on the spur of the moment, to send to your girlfriend.”

And now she’s gonna make him take some sort of sexy banana pic with which to retaliate. He’ll be her BANANACOMPLICE, if you will.



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I mentioned to The Dandy a while back that having my head stroked/petted really helps clear my mind so I can sleep. He has since gotten in the habit of cuddling up to me and petting my head every single night (for a while, like 5-10 minutes), and in those moments I feel so loved that I could burst. He still has difficulties saying “I love you” but tbh as long as he still pets my head at night I don’t give a flying fuck about the words.

Last night, though, we were slated to go to bed at different times; I had to work in the morning and wanted my solid eight hours but The Dandy intended to stay up til 2am like he usually does. He had to watch some online tutorials for work and I asked if he could possibly multitask by watching them in bed on the laptop while petting me to sleep. He said yes without hesitation.

We also had some pretty productive talks over the past few days. Last night I went back to the topic of him not being able to picture shit in his head based on words, because I’m baffled by this. I’d sent him that link about the guy who has aphantasia (his brain doesn’t make pictures at all) and he’d read it and he says yeah, that’s exactly what it is for him, too. I said “But you said you fantasize when you jerk off.” He said yeah, but not pictures, concepts. I was like “well, so the concepts must be delineated in words, right?” he said yes. “So words can turn you on.” He said he guesses so, yeah. Which brings us back around to: what kind of dirty talk would do it for him? He still doesn’t seem to know but maybe the thoughts will percolate for a while and he’ll come up with something.

(Funny story: at one point near the beginning of this conversation I was kind of baffled and enraged, trying to understand how his brain works. He kept telling me contradictory-sounding things and I was like “but how does that even…what are you…which is it?” and finally we ended up in a standoff where he was in his computer chair smirking up at me and I was standing over him staring in a quizzical and annoyed fashion. And then I thought “I guess this conversation has gone as far as it can go” and I straightened up and started to leave the room because the kitchen needed cleaning. The Dandy became alarmed and caught hold of my arm and asked if I was okay and I was like “Oh, sorry, I guess that seemed kind of abrupt. I’m not mad or anything. I’m just gonna go load the dishwasher. But thank you for checking in.” The Dandy smiled with relief and pulled me in for a kiss and it was kind of adorable. And after I was done in the kitchen I came back and we talked about his whole not-able-to-picture-thngs issue a whole bunch more.)

He was seeming a little fragile by the end of this conversation and I would guess it’s because he’s used to Dandette reacting to his foibles like “What the fuck?!? You’re SO WEIRD!!!” so I sat on the floor by his chair, laid my head in his lap, beamed up at him, and told him that I love learning more things about him; it makes me feel closer to him, and it’s cool that even now, after dating a while and even moving in together, there are still more things to learn. That seemed to put him more at ease. πŸ™‚

I also told him that the main two strengths I feel I have, sexually, are my dirty talk and my ability to read body language to figure out exactly where and how to touch someone, and The Dandy kinda negates both of those (not into dirty talk, doesn’t have any erogenous zones but his dick so there’s very little opportunity for me to get creative). And I guess I have a very dude-like attitude toward sex: yeah, intimacy and closeness blah blah blah but did I get you off really well? How was it on a scale of 1-10? Plz quantify all the things and tell me how I can blow your mind even more. In other words I feel like my value, sexually, lies entirely in what I do, not how I look or who I am. I hate not having the power to be better at sex with him. Like, what, just me showing up is enough? That can’t be right.

Finally I was like “Okay, let’s try this: would you characterize me as good in bed?” The Dandy immediately said yes. I asked why. He said actually, it probably is my ability to read signals. I didn’t expect him to say that, since he’s really really plain when it comes to sex; doesn’t care about foreplay, doesn’t seem to need any fancy moves, just puts his penis in and moves it around until he comes. But actually, there is the fact that the reactions he gives are very very subtle. Maybe other people miss them. I have learned that when I’m giving him a hand job, the only way to tell if he’s anywhere near coming is that his toes start to point. His breathing doesn’t change until the last second and he never tenses up or anything. There have been times when my wrist was getting tired and I was about to take a break but then I saw his toes flex in my peripheral vision and knew I needed to stay the course. And I’ve learned that he’s the type to go still when he comes during PIV, even though continued thrusting makes his orgasm better, so when he’s on top and starts to come, I start thrusting really hard and it gives him a bunch of extra spasms until the endorphins (I’ve come to realize it’s endorphins, not how silly it is for me to suddenly start bucking my hips up at him like that) make him start laughing.

The other day – oh, tangent, I was diagnosed with ADD like three months ago and had been putting off getting the medication for it, but I got it and had taken my first pill and apparently the angst I was feeling about all of this had turned me all anxious and navel-gazey (or maybe that was a side effect of the pill). So, the other day I realized that Dandette and I have a key difference in our anxiety that he should probably be made aware of: she’s terrified of being a burden and will get mad if you go out of your way to help her through an anxious patch, and I generally want help but am constantly convinced that my problems aren’t important enough to deserve it. I cited the time I had all the horrible bug bites: when I asked The Dandy and Dandette for calamine lotion etc. and neither of them seemed particularly invested in getting me some, I thought “Oh. I guess I’m just being a big fakey fakerson again, making a big deal out of nothing” and I gave up on asking even though the itching and stinging was torture. So I told The Dandy that having my feelings validated and being offered help is really important to me, and I told him that if for instance he sees me being on the internet super obsessively all day it’s not a bad idea to ask me if I’m okay because that is in fact a huge symptom that I’m anxious about something and trying to avoid dealing with it. Later, I told Dandette the same thing: it’s not her responsibility or anything but if she sees that I seem to be going sideways and she has the spoons to ask me what’s going on, that would be nice. ‘Cause I get into these cycles without even realizing it, sometimes, so if someone points it out maybe I’ll actually address the issue.

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