Tag Archives: The Pedant

A post mostly about sexual entitlement

Last night The Dandy and I started gettin’ it on and as we were in the beginning canoodling stages I asked him more things about his apparently text-only fantasies (and told him that actually my sexual fantasies are almost entirely non-visual too – for me it’s words and imagined sounds and sensations more than anything). I asked him if he ever fantasizes about having sex with someone during sex. He grinned sheepishly and said yes. I said “Me too! ‘Cause, see, then it’s like double sex.” And we laughed together – him perhaps with relief – I think he was afraid I’d be offended by that. I told him how sometimes I’m actually narrating our sex in my head to turn myself on more. And how a lot of my wank fantasies are about sex we’ve had together except I’m him (I’m not picturing myself at all, though, except as a disembodied vagina. I’m all about imagining The Dandy’s sensations and emotions while carefully not thinking too much about the fact that there’s a woman in the scene).

In other news, I realized something today: The Dandy and The Pedant – my two main (kind of only, right now) partners –  are…kind of entitled in bed.

I mean, when I tell either of them to help me get off, they do. But I don’t think either of them actually offers of their own accord, basically ever. Not when I’ve just gotten them off and certainly not out of the blue. They did in the beginning but not anymore.

And yet both of them are perfectly fine receiving tons of sexual attention from me. I love making them come and they seem to just accept this as their due, or something. Every single time The Pedant gives me dirty talk, it’s along the lines of “I’m gonna let you touch my penis.” Never what he’d do to or for me. Even when I try to steer the conversation in that direction he steers it back to how much he loves all that penis-touching and how much he knows I love it, too. And last night I told The Dandy that I think I may (no joke) have kind of a fetish for his cock* and that I’d been craving the texture of it against my lips all day, and he magnanimously let me kiss and lick it for a while (I dunno, I guess I just wanted him to feel more like he’d hit the jackpot…). The cock worship turned me on and I wanted to have sex. Although I also kind of wanted more foreplay directed at me first, but felt weird about saying “I wanna fuck you but I want you to touch me and stuff for a while first,” like he’d wonder, if I was turned on and knew I wanted sex then why was I making him jump through hoops for it? So I just went ahead and climbed onto his dick. And it felt good and after he came he helped me come (because I told him to). But I feel self-conscious about taking up too much of his time with my needs and in retrospect this bugs me a lot because he sure doesn’t have any shyness or hesitation or worry when I’m making out with his wang for thirty minutes straight.

I mean, I genuinely do like giving The Dandy and The Pedant pleasure. It’s not like I’m doing it only for their sake. But I wish my arousal turned them on as much as theirs turns me on**. And I wish they didn’t take my love of pleasuring them for granted. And the fact that they don’t really initiate getting me off just feels kind of…I mean…how is it that they’ll lie there luxuriating in my attentions for an hour or more and not think to give any of that back? I love giving them pleasure but it’s not, like, my pinnacle of fulfillment as a woman. First off, just because I like giving pleasure doesn’t mean that all my sexuality is outward-directed and receiving pleasure doesn’t interest me; it’s not an either/or. Second, when I make a dude moan and squirm it doesn’t give me a warm satisfying glow of a job well done, it goddamned turns me on and I wanna get off. Like, hello? I’m not touching you like this because it’s your god-given right as a man to have your dick fawned over all day. It’s a sexual thing for me.

The weird thing is, both of them are pretty good about petting me when we’re not having sex. The Pedant would usually caress me absent-mindedly while we watched movies, and The Dandy does that thing where he pets my head as we fall asleep. Maybe my anxiety is making me all skewed and cynical right now but I can’t help feeling like my pleasure just doesn’t turn them on particularly, so they’re not interested in focusing all their attention on it, but they do know that being petted makes me happy so they’ll do it when they’ve got something else to occupy them at the same time.

I definitely need to have a talk, especially with The Dandy, about whether he enjoys my pleasure or what – and if he does, to consider giving me more of it. When we were first dating he once caressed my inner elbows for like 20 minutes because he was fascinated with the way I moaned. He used to initiate finger penetration, too, and I liked it. I so rarely feel like the focus of his sexual attention anymore, though. And unlike The Pedant he doesn’t compensate for that by being super fun to play with.

 

*Well, any cock that’s within a certain size range, not too curved, and uncut. But he matches those parameters so it amounts to the same thing.

**The Pedant actually has stepped up his game a bit recently, massaging and caressing me of his own accord rather than completely starfishing the second I touch him. But for years he did nothing for me. Our sex consisted of me masterfully reducing him to a whimpering puddle over the course of hours and then getting myself off while he dozed off. So I have some pent-up frustration.

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Rawr.

The Dandy and Dandette are still gone so I had The Pedant over last night. It felt less-weird fucking him in the bed I usually share with The Dandy than I’d imagined it would. Or maybe I expected The Pedant to be weird about it and he pretty much wasn’t.

One funny thing: The Dandy is the kind of nerd who owns swords. They’re displayed on a rack on the bedroom wall. The Pedant made a big show of checking them out and was like “Huh, a couple of these aren’t usable.” I said they might not be razor sharp or anything but I think you could still stab someone pretty effectively. The Pedant was like “No, these ones up top are rounded at the end. They’ve been – ” and here he used a technical term I didn’t know and can’t remember. Like it was clear he was trying hard to one-up The Dandy’s knowledge of old weaponry or whatever. So he was all “these sword-blades have been technicaltermed, rendering them unusable.”

“They’re in scabbards,” I said. The Pedant had mistaken the metal sheaths on the swords for the blades themselves. So much for his mighty expertise.

Anyway.

The Pedant continues to be less selfish and more attentive than he used to be, and again I wonder whether someone taught him this or if he’s taking me for granted less now that our relationship is less certain* or what.

When he first arrived, he offered to help me re-shave my head (not unusual for him) and when I was showering the clippings off he came in with me just to help me rinse away the bits that I missed. I don’t recall him doing that before; if he wanted to take a shower anyway he’d come in with me, and sometimes he’d wash me in some capacity, but he’s never come into the shower just for me. What especially struck me about this was that he smiled at me while doing it. He’s always been matter-of-fact before when helping me with my hair but this time any time I accidentally caught his eye he’d beam beatifically at me. It was very sweet.

Eventually I was all shaved and rinsed and dried and we were making out in my bed. I  told him the memory of how his mouth feels on me is one of my go-to fantasies and he replied “everything about you is one of mine.” Dammmmn! Upping his dirty talk game like whoa! And to think I used to wonder if he even remembered I existed when we weren’t together. He kept on riffing about me and how awesome our sex is. And it was in the form of “I love -” statements, which I’m fairly sure is how he deflects when he really wants to say “I love you” but can’t because he’s kind of emotionally stunted.

Things progressed to me tying him down and riding him but then just to be a brat I abruptly stopped when he was close to orgasm and insisted he get me off instead. Well, not just to be a brat. He does pass way the fuck out after orgasming usually and so I wanted to make sure I was satisfied first. I had a bit of trouble coming but The Pedant took the Hitachi from me unbidden (which is an interesting coincidence because I had privately decided that I should teach him how to use it on me – I get tired of my sex life basically being wanking in front of guys) and followed my directions reasonably well and just having someone else be the one stimulating my clit was enough to get me going and get me off pretty fast.

Then I rode him some more, trash-talking that I should just leave him tied up and unsatisfied when I went to that evening’s shift and he’d have to wait like a passive piece of fuckmeat for me to come home and use him again. He just about lost his mind at the hotness of that idea (not that I’d do it, and I don’t think he’d genuinely want me to, either). He started begging to come and I was like “Will you be able to go again once I get back from work? Because I’ll want more of you.” He repeatedly, breathily, urgently promised me that if I let him come now he’d still be able to come again later. So I granted permission and KERPOW.

I left him passed out in my bed and went to work. At quitting time he texted me saying to let him know my ETA and he’d be waiting for me in the bedroom, naked except for the restraints. I cheekily asked if he could add “…and holding a sandwich” to that scenario, and told him he’d find gluten-free bread, mayo, prosciutto, cheese, and tomatoes in the fridge. It felt a little daring to do that – I’m only officially his dominant when it comes to sexual stuff, and he doesn’t seem to like doing domestic things too much. But he totally did make me a sandwich and greet me with it, and that was lovely.

The soles of my feet were all black from walking around barefoot during breaks at work (art studios often have charcoal dust on the floor, plus this particular place was just kinda filthy) and The Pedant said I ought to wash the grime off, adding that actually it might be easier to just shower again, and that the hot water might help my back that I’d strained in a long pose, too. I opted to take a hot bath, instead, with Epsom salts. I bade The Pedant come kneel by the tub and wash anyplace I couldn’t reach. I put bubble stuff in the bath as well as the salt, so The Pedant idly scooped up handfuls of suds and rubbed his hands over my arms, belly, and legs while I soaked. Then I had him scrub my back with the loofah. I washed my filthy feet myself, though. 🙂

The hot water had made me itchy, perhaps from drying out my skin, so once I got out and dried off I lay on the bed and asked The Pedant to apply moisturizer to me, and he did, thoroughly, and turned it into a massage. When I asked him to move his massaging efforts from my legs to the soles of my feet, he did – and he listened to instructions and didn’t half-ass it! He mashed the tension out of my soles good and hard until I was a blissful puddle. It didn’t feel perfunctory and he didn’t constantly ask “feeling better?” like he was waiting for his cue to stop. WHAT IS THIS I CAN’T EVEN.

Once I finally felt fed and refreshed and clean and ready for action, what I ended up doing was tying The Pedant to the bed again and giving him a hand job while flexing two of my fingers in his ass. At one point he gave me the heads-up that if I kept going, he’d come. “Do you want to?” I asked. He said no, not yet, if he came he’d pass out and I’d said that I wanted to use him all evening long, so…(!!!!!!!!!)

But TBH my thigh muscles were sore as hell from all the sex and orgasms I’ve been having lately and I was really enjoying doing stuff to The Pedant. Now that I knew he was pretty close to coming, I kept a close eye on his responses and kept on slowly stroking his cock until his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth formed a silent scream and he was literally a breath away from exploding in my hand – and then I’d let go of his cock and just finger his nipples or flutter the fingers that were inside him for a little while. I did this over…and over…and over…and over. I was kind of hoping that if I got him desperate enough, just my fingers in his ass or on his nipples would drive him over the edge, but alas no. He did start whispering “please…please…please…!” as I brought him toward the edge for like the tenth time though (probably sensing that I was absorbed in the hand job and wouldn’t need him to serve me in any other way that night, after all). I murmured, “Yes. Come for me.” And I kept on stroking him and he got really close but seemed to be having a hard time getting over (overstimulated?). I stopped moving my fingers inside him (cutting down on distractions, as it were) and that did the trick. He got all fidgety and pulled against the restraints and then bucked his shoulders off the mattress and howled with release. I resumed fluttering my fingers inside him and kept on steadily stroking his cock and he had like two more big spasms that seemed to take him by surprise and then finally seemed spent.

We didn’t fuck any more the next morning. I think we were both thoroughly used up. But there was cuddling and he ended up coming to work with me and hanging out for a bit (loath, as usual, to leave my side even though he had an errand in the opposite direction from where I was going. At every leg of the journey he’d be like “Well I might as well wait for the bus with you” all nonchalant n shit but then when the bus came he’d just kinda get on it with me for no good reason and still be nonchalant about it…).

But yeah. Good visit.

 

*I mean, we technically broke up and he calls us FWB now (even though he continues to act as intimate with me as he ever did and TBH I really think we’re dating again and he’s just kidding himself). And I’m less attached to and obsessed with him and I think he can feel that.

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Pedant Time

A few days ago I was hardcore freaking out about the fact that I’m now living with and enmeshed with The Dandy and Dandette.  Living with just The Dandy is bad enough; it feels creepily like monogamous commitment to me and I have no bedroom of my own to bring other guys to and wash that taste out of my mouth. But no, I had to go and commit to two people, which effectively triples my chances of things fucking up (The Dandy and I could develop problems, or he and Dandette could, or Dandette and I could, and any of these eventualities will add stress to my living situation).

So I was freaking out and I texted The Pedant asking if I could see him sometime soon. Basically I wanted to fuck someone who was not The Dandy so that I could get it out of my head that I was trapped. Also, The Dandy’s sexual palate is extremely limited and I was dying to connect with someone I could get toppy with and who would actually make sounds when aroused.

The Pedant can be flighty and hard to nail down sometimes but this time he really came through for me. He told me a night he was free and said if I booked a hotel on my credit card he’d pay me back for it and we could have a whole night to ourselves. So I did, and we did.

He was working til 7pm and I only had one gig in the morning so I arrived first and checked in and stuff. I’ve never booked a hotel or checked into one alone before. I managed okay, despite my anxiety. It helped a lot that the place was in my own city, in a neighbourhood I know well. I dropped off my big giant bag of sex toys etc and then went to the grocery store and got a selection of food for us – something I’d volunteered to do and he’d liked the idea. Plus I wanted to chip in something to show my appreciation for him paying for the room.

I was starving though and broke into our food stash early. Good thing I did because The Pedant never ended up eating that night. He arrived, kissed me hello, showered, then came out into the room damp and naked with a rather adorable, awkward “Well…here I am…” smile. It still wasn’t entirely clear to me whether he planned to partake of the bed-picnic I’d spread out or not, so when I stood up and walked over to him, my first few kisses were a bit tentative. But things escalated quickly and pretty soon I flung him down on the empty part of the bed and quickly gathered up the food and set it aside so we could roll around as needed. Then I stripped, straddled him, and we kept on making out (god, his lips are so plush and smooth and amazing. And he lets me take the lead and vary the kissing in a way that The Dandy does not. Kissing, with The Dandy, is kind of a lost cause; he has prickly face-fur and keeps insisting on doing smoochy puckered kisses no matter how much I try to linger or extend things).

The Pedant kept whispering dirty talk like “I can’t believe after all these years you can still make me submit so completely” – he said several iterations of this – and yeah, I can’t believe our chemistry either TBH. Also: hot. Incidentally, he was reciprocating my kissing and touching more than is typical for him (and has been doing so for the past few times we’ve been together). I like that.

He’d told me during the planning stage for this outing that he wanted to get me off first, since his own orgasms usually knock him the fuck out. I was on board with this. So after a nice long time of kissing and teasing him, I told him to go down on me. Or, well, I didn’t have to tell him, per se; I rolled off him onto my back and scootched a piece of fabric under me*. When he gave me a questioning look, I said “I’m in the final days of my period so there’s a slight chance of precipitation. Your mouth will be up here, though” – and I pointed at my clit – “so you’ll be safe.” And he immediately positioned himself between my legs.

As usual, The Pedant’s technique in giving oral was pretty hit-or-miss (although he seems to be actively hurting me less often than he used to…), but the stuff he did felt good about fifty percent of the time and his enthusiasm was hot. (Have I ever mentioned that The Dandy won’t give oral, like, ever?) And I think I have a mild kink for it. I like the intimacy of someone going face-first into my business, as it were. So that got me turned on as all hell and eventually I added my dildo to the mix, then had The Pedant back his face up so I could use the Hitachi. I got off once and then told The Pedant to stay where he was (ie keep holding the dildo inside me) and I rested for a bit. I’d actually had sex with The Dandy that very morning, plus a bit of an orgasm marathon a couple of days before, so my stomach and thigh muscles were still sore.

After a while of staring at the ceiling and catching my breath, I told The Pedant that I thought I probably had more orgasms in the queue but I just wasn’t sure my body could take it. He responded by starting to shunt the dildo back and forth again. Quite quickly; more quickly than I would have requested. But the g-spot stimulation got me turned on and I applied the Hitachi to my clit again. The Pedant did something with his free hand – pressed the Hitachi harder against me and/or manipulated my clit (whatever part wasn’t blocked by the Hitachi) with his fingers – and I came with a mighty banshee-shriek.

And after I was done, when I asked The Pedant to remove the dildo from my body, he made direct, burning eye contact and placed it in my hand. I found it odd that he did that instead of chucking it onto the side table or whatever, but okay. And then he crawled up my body and kissed me and whispered “Would you like to watch me lick your juices off it?”

Oh, that’s why he handed me the dildo directly.

And that is how I ended up watching The Pedant fellate my dildo for my viewing pleasure OMG.

And! After he was done with that, he petted me for a while, unbidden. And I mentioned that my legs were gonna be sore the next day and he massaged them without me directly asking. And eventually he rolled me over and massaged my back, too, also without me asking. And instead of constantly asking “Feeling better?” (which always sounded to me like “I’m bored, can I stop now?”) he would occasionally check in and ask “Is this helping?” WHO THE HELL TAUGHT HIM TO DO THESE THINGS?!?

Eventually I said that we should figure out how to set up the under-bed restraint system I’d brought. The Pedant said “Yes, but first, maybe…” and quietly, breathily, urgently told me a fantasy of his, as he is wont to do. I get simultaneously aroused (because he’s opening up to me) and mildly irritated (because it comes across a little pushy, although of course I could just be like “Nah, Imma do something else) when he does this. It’s always fascinating hearing his thoughts and how he phrases them, though. The thing he suggested was that I position him on all fours so I could “see everything” and fuck his ass (with whatever was at hand, I guess? I can’t remember if he specified). He couched it as something he’d be doing for me, of course (which is doubly funny because my preference is for him to be on his back; he’s the one who seems to adore being on all fours). He used a lot of flowery language about how he’d be submitting to me. I wonder what his deal is? He clearly enjoys the feeling of stuff in his ass, but there seems to be a bit more to it; a humiliation factor, maybe? Like he wants his asshole clearly visible to me because it’s more invasive that way? Does he just feel weird about his desires and not want me to make eye contact while I penetrate him? I just don’t know.

But after making out with him some more and putting wrist restraints on him, I briskly said “Okay. Face down, ass up” and patted the mattress. His breath gave that adorable little hitch of arousal and he immediately assumed the position. I fastened his wrists to the headboard just to add to the overall effect of him being prostrate and powerless. He seemed to enjoy this. I fucked his ass slowly with my lubed finger for, I don’t know, a long time. Then I replaced my finger with a steel plug and undid his wrists. The Pedant clambered into a kneeling position on the bed next to me. It’s unclear where he was going with that but I started kissing and caressing him. He said he didn’t want to come too soon and I said “Oh, you won’t be coming for a good long while” and he gasped in anticipation. Or terror. More likely terrified anticipation.

I kept on kissing and caressing him and even lubed my hands and started touching his cock, sometimes idly, sometimes – briefly – rubbing him vigorously and with intention…but always stopping just as his breath began to speed up. I reached between his thighs to rattle the base of the plug and make him gasp. I made eye contact and made sure he saw me lick my fingers before applying them, smooth and slippery, to his nipples.

After a while, I said “Right, so let’s set up the underbed thing.” He managed to shake off his sexual stupor and we passed the straps under the bed to each other. Turns out I’d forgotten one of the ankle restraints at home somehow but the kit came with a length of nylon strap so I just used that to tie his ankle to the bondage ring. The rest of his limbs got proper restraints, and then he was spread-eagled.

I climbed aboard and began to ride and his reactions were slightly anticlimactic. I blame the condom.** Or maybe I overstimulated him with the hours of teasing, but anyway I miss the times when he’d gasssssssp as I slid him inside me and whimper any time I teased him by pulling back. But I forged ahead, thrusting and fingering his nipples. After a while he said, in a surprisingly neutral tone, “You’re going to make me come if you keep doing that.”

“Do you want to come?” I asked (I couldn’t tell if he was warning me for my sake, or indicating that he didn’t want things to end yet). My question unleashed a torrent of really, really hot begging, and in retrospect I wish I’d kept him on edge some more and really savoured that. But instead I granted permission and started thrusting hard and fast and he went sailing over the edge – again with a bit less of a physical fanfare than I might have liked, but what can you do?

Overall it was a good night indeed, and gave me exactly what I needed. Plus The Pedant insisted on paying me back extra to cover not only the hotel as promised, but the food I’d bought and the tip I’d left for the cleaning lady.

 

*I always carry a big piece of fabric with me to sit on when I’m modelling, and I’d come directly from a gig, remember.

**I’ve  started using condoms with him again because I assume barebacking privileges have transferred to that stupid girlfriend he waxed so lyrical about. Although, come to think of it, I never actually asked about that; I just assumed he’d want me to use one and he didn’t stop me. I have now texted him letting him know that I only did that for his benefit and if I’m wrong about the situation to let me know. I prefer him bare.

 

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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. 🙂 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. 😛

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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Dandy stuff

Spent last night at The Dandy’s place. Dandette didn’t get in the way much, so that was good. It’s frustrating because at my place it feels like I have no privacy because the walls are paper thin and my downstairs neighbours are vindictive assholes who probably write down every single sound they hear from me in a revenge book or something. The Dandy’s place is gloriously quiet from a neighbour perspective – it’s in a high rise, so the walls between the apartments are concrete. But his goddamned ex-girlfriend is his roommate and she has boundary issues so her attempts at showing she’s okay with our relationship sometimes take the form of, like…spying on us and issuing verbal high-fives? Thus, The Dandy and I have no place where we can fuck and I’ll feel 100% comfortable.

But as I said, this time around she chose not to comment on anything she could hear us doing. So yay.

The Dandy is very sweet. As yesterday was the first of the month, I redoubled my efforts at finding a new apartment (by the end of the month I figure everything good has been snapped up). I perhaps naively thought that if I sat down and focused real hard on my online search and then called up a shitload of places in a row, I could get viewings for later that day or maybe the next day. But I kept getting answering machines or the ad I saw was old and the place was taken or blah blah blah. I do have two viewings booked for Tuesday night and The Dandy says he can probably come with me, so that’s exciting! He’s really good at figuring out how best to arrange a place and/or make the best of a weird layout so I need him in my corner.

Anyway. Focusing that hard, plus dealing with people, exhausts me, and also I just hate all the other stress of wondering where I’m gonna live and how I’ll afford it and all that. When I got to The Dandy’s I was okay but after half an hour or so my adrenaline buzz began to wear off, I guess. He was just finishing loading the dishwasher when I said “I am in dire need of spooning” and told him I seemed to be having some kind of emotional crash from the apartment hunt. He stopped the housework immediately and took me to his bed and snuggled me and massaged the knot I always get next to my shoulderblade and I had a little cry and then felt better.

One thing about The Dandy – I think I’ve mentioned it before – is that he’s the kind of person who mostly just listens to me when I rant. I prefer more feedback. So, like…when I was intermittently crying I said something like “I feel like any woman who’s not always calm and collected is labeled a ‘psycho bitch’ and I worry that I seem unstable when I act like I am now. But really this is just a stress-cry and once I let this all out I’ll be back to normal.” The Dandy just kept on holding me and rubbing my back, and that’s not terrible, but what I wanted was for him also to say “You’re not a psycho bitch” and/or “guys who throw that label around are assholes” and/or “I don’t think you’re unstable.”

I mean the thing is my ex-husband used his resounding silence as a means of controlling me. I didn’t realize it at the time. But if I talked about wanting to do a thing he didn’t especially like me doing, he’d go all cold and tight-lipped and silent. He wouldn’t actually say he didn’t want me to do the thing. In fact if I anxiously said “…Is that okay?” he’d say yes – in a clipped, icy tone that still totally seemed like he was pissed at me, so I opted not to do the thing.

Now, granted, as I told The Dandy I was afraid of being labeled “psycho” etc., he kept on hugging and petting me. His body didn’t go all cold and still and distant as my ex’s probably would have (I don’t recall a time that he pulled this “silent treatment” bullshit while we were cuddling so I don’t know). So it’s probably fine. But I’d still have preferred that he’d gone the “Oh don’t be silly you’re just a human being having human feelings” type of route.

I talked to my friend Dom about this and he said that to him, reassurances like that sound condescending. His girlfriend likes that stuff and has said so, so he does it. But it doesn’t come naturally to him. It wouldn’t have occurred to me that reassurance of that kind is condescending. But maybe that’s what it is with The Dandy – what seems obvious and natural to say to me doesn’t feel natural to him.

The Dandy is also silent when I talk about any of my various forays into sex work (and when I mention other partners), and when I’ve asked “are you okay with all this?” he just kinda shrugs and smiles. He doesn’t seem coldly pissed off like my ex did but it still unnerves me a bit. Although maybe he really is fine with it but just has no advice to give. When I was ranting about guys on that pay site not texting me back, he did discuss it with me and offer some theories. So yes. This is very different from my ex husband.

I’ll say this, though: it was much, much more obvious to me that The Pedant really was fine with my sex work and with me being poly and all of that. He would actively engage me in discussion about that stuff, and had lots of advice and whatnot. He once painted my toenails for me because I was supposed to see a foot fetish guy later, for Pete’s sake (and The Pedant is not into feet and hates the smell of nail polish – he got nothing out of the interaction except me being grateful for the help). He absolutely made me feel as though he supported me in all areas of my life.

I miss brainstorming sex work strategies with The Pedant.

Anyway.

The Dandy makes a lot of money. I’m not sure how much exactly, but like…a lot. Definitely six figures, I should think. And he has all these arcane hobbies and is able to throw shitloads of cash at them. I’m jealous of his money (so. Very. Jealous.) but I love hearing about his hobbies. I love hearing about all the weird factoids he knows, in general.

One of his hobbies is collecting fountain pens. He has almost fifty of them in a special case; he showed me yesterday (it came up because I pointed out what I thought was a collection of colognes on a shelf in his bedroom. Not colognes: ink. The size of the boxes and the graphics on the boxes did look kinda perfumey, though). I must have been really well calmed-down from my anxiety crash earlier because I was more focused than usual and found myself really interested in these pens. The best part is The Dandy doesn’t halfass anything: I knew he didn’t just have a pen collection because they were pretty. He would know everything about them. So I could ask him any questions that came into my mind at all and he would field them. “What’s this pen made out of? What’s the ink made out of? Was ink made of different stuff back in the day? What’s the most expensive kind of ink, and why?” and on and on.

The pens were mostly made of celluloid, btw. And there are different kinds of celluloid, and one kind off-gases camphor so you can tell if a pen is legit the kind it’s claimed to be by sniffing the inside of the cap.

I worry sometimes that I won’t be enough of an intellectual challenge for The Dandy because, while I know obscure bits and pieces about a lot of different subjects, he seems to know all my trivia already plus a billion terrabytes more. On the other hand, maybe he’s not looking for an intellectual challenge from me. Maybe it’s enough that I’m the kind of person who will eagerly engage with him for almost an hour over a pen collection.

The Dandy said something to me, a while back, along the lines that saying “I love you” jinxes a relationship. I’ve been feeling really close to him lately and somewhat tempted to drop the L-bomb but obviously not if he’s going to recoil in horror because he thinks I’ve doomed us. So as we were lying in bed last night (after a whole bunch of sex) I asked “Do you really think saying ‘I love you’ jinxes things?” He said no, not really (I’m not sure if I believe him; he had not sounded like he was kidding at the time) and asked me if I think it’s a jinx. I said that oddly, that’s not one of my paranoia things; I haven’t had any kind of pattern where relationships fell to shit after we exchanged I-love-yous. I have however had a few relationships fall to shit not long after I began tentatively trusting that things would go long-term, so that’s my big jinxy thing: allowing myself to believe that a partner will be a permanent fixture in my life rather than just “living in the now” or whatever. The Dandy squeezed my arm in sympathy when I said that.

“So…is there a reason you’re asking this right now?” The Dandy said. Under other circumstances I might have used that as a segue to actually tell him I loved him. But his tone was so knowing and nudge-nudge, wink-wink-y that it annoyed me.

In the past few years I’ve had two relationships (The Bunny and The Pedant) where I said “I love you” and they didn’t say it back and we went on to date for a year or more after the incident. A year or more of me having put those words out there (several times, in The Pedant’s case) and being met with a pat or a smile or an awkward deflection in return. And at the time I was willing to rationalize this: he treats me pretty well, I feel loved, maybe he feels the same thing I feel for him but he just doesn’t label it the same, we don’t have to break up over this, blah blah blah. But now I feel like I was kind of debasing myself by sticking around and I don’t want to do that again, which means I’m not gonna tell anyone I love them until I’m as sure as can be that I’ll get it back, and if I don’t get it back…I may have to bail.

And now here’s The Dandy asking me why I’m bringing up the subject of exchanging I-love-yous, all smarmy and knowing n shit, and just…ugh. If he’s that sure that I love him, why doesn’t he just say it first? And if he’s not at the point of wanting to say it, why the fuck is he prompting me to say it?

I told him I brought the subject up as a philosophical discussion, and then I cuddled up to him and went to sleep.

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So very done.

The Pedant called me last week just to see how I was doing. He also offered to come over sometime that week so I could vent to him some more, since he knew I’ve been going through a lot what with looking for a new apartment etc. My heart skipped a beat at the thought that he cared about me and wanted to provide emotional support. If you’ll remember, my big thing with him was that he seemed pretty selfish in our relationship a lot of the time and didn’t want to go out of his way for me. I was hoping that our breakup might have made him realize he’d taken me for granted and maybe he was trying to make up for that.

But then when we compared schedules it turned out he was specifically hoping to come see me on Thursday night because he happened to be working walking distance from my house that day (he’s a security guard and they send him to various stores around the city). And I mean, he was still offering to come let me be angsty at him when he didn’t have to, so that’s something, but with the history we have it did bug me that it seemed to be only because he’d be nearby.

When I said I was working on Thursday night but free on Wednesday, he said he could come after his shift on Wednesday and crash here if I wanted and then leave (for his shift that was walking distance from my place) the morning after. I said yes, kind of on autopilot, because for a long, long time I was yearning after any little crumb of attention he felt like tossing my way and I guess I’m not out of the habit of eagerly snatching them up yet. But as soon as I said okay to him visiting, I kind of regretted it. I wondered whether that had somehow been his plan from the start – use my place as a motel and pay for his lodging by listening to my problems. And also I felt worried that he would let me down by cancelling or being late, because that’s a pattern with him. When he signed off on our phone call he said – in his warm, soothing baritone voice – that he would check in with me the next day and then the day after that, just to keep me updated on our plan. He talks a good game but he’s usually full of shit so I didn’t get my hopes up.

Sure enough, I did not hear from him the next day; the day after that (Wednesday, the day he was meant to come over after work) he texted me to say that he couldn’t make it after all. His job wanted him to bring in some piece of paperwork the next day and he had it at home. I think what irritates me the most is that he began his text with “I have some bad news:…” like a) he assumed his cancellation would be some big tragedy for me and wanted to ease me into the news gently and b) he assumed his cancellation would be surprising instead of just the latest in a long, long line of Pedant fuckups.

I was like “Okay thanks for the update” and went on with my life.

Since then, a Bad Thing has happened to me that is infinitely more stressful than the apartment hunt ever was. I texted The Pedant my terrible news and he texted back an appropriate shock/dismay reaction but has not repeated his offer to come over and talk me down from all my stressors. I presume this means he’s not scheduled to work near me anytime soon.

Fucker.

If he ever calls me again I won’t answer.

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…but on a catty note…

I always found The Pedant just extraordinarily hot, which is why I put up with the amount of shit from him that I did. He was a vaguely dangerous-looking goth boy of the sort that I’ve always lusted after but who rarely – if ever – wanted me back, usually because I am neither goth nor dangerous-looking. But The Pedant did want me. He was a sinewy, wolfishly gorgeous, high-cheekboned man with long hair and amazing outfits, and I got to peel those outfits off him and fuck the shit out of him and it never stopped feeling validating.

But in the past year or two he’s started going seriously bald – his hairline was receding when I met him but now it’s receded even more and the whole top of his hair has thinned way out to where I can see the ghost of male-pattern baldness underneath (and dude has a huge noggin – he used to get his turtlenecks custom made because a storebought one the right size for his body wouldn’t go over his gigantic melon head – so his very receded hairline leaves nothing to break up the vast, domed expanse of his forehead). And he’s gained weight. Once upon a time he used to be heavier, but it was distributed all over so he just looked pleasingly solid. Then he lost weight for a while and his body was all slender and tight. Now he’s still thin all over except for a bulbous little middle-aged paunch that strains the bottom few buttons on his shirts. I don’t even mind a guy having a belly – The Dandy has quite a lot of extra weight on him and so did The Bunny – but The Pedant carries his weight in a very “suburban middle-management dude who’s given up on life” kind of way, and what originally attracted me to him was that he looked like the antithesis of all of that. He was otherworldly. Now he’s just some paunchy security guard.

If he had still been making me happy, his changed appearance barely would have registered with me. But he’d stopped doing all the things I liked several months before we broke up, and he was no longer the pretty shiny thing I’d once fetishized, so it’s just as well he dropped the hammer. It frees me from a whole huge dilemma I would inevitably have had, wanting to preserve the relationship because we had all that history together and he was almost what I wanted, but at the same time not feeling happy with him or even attracted to him anymore.

It also gives me a warm glow of schadenfreude to imagine that perhaps other women will be put off by his prematurely middle-aged appearance, too, and he won’t have as much luck getting laid as he used to. I want to be the last woman ever to dote on him and call him beautiful. And I want him to be painfully aware of this and to realize that he fucked up by letting me go.

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