Creepy Commercial Makes Me Think

So I know you have probably gotten tired of all the anti-smoking commercials.  There are so many of them out there and they are on constantly.  But one that I originally heard on my way to bed threw me for a bit of a loop because it sounded like a submissive signing over control to their dominant partner.  If you have never seen said commercial here’s the text:

“I, Amanda Green, at the point in my life when I’m not a kid anymore. Now that I finally have freedom to define who I am. I hereby agree to be bound by you. To let you decide how I spend my money. To let you set my boundaries. And to come running the instant you snap your fingers. With this contract, I relinquish part of my freedom to you.”

I listened it to a few times over the next few weeks after seeing it originally and kept thinking about it so I figured it was trying to tell me something.  And I guess it was.  In no particular order this is what has come up for me upon thinking about her actual statements totally out of context to the cigarette cause yeah I’ve never smoked anything expect candy cigarettes and they were kinda nasty.

  • Well first my name isn’t Amanda Green but it’s not really relevant to all of this, just call me red.  And well red isn’t a kid anymore but the last few years is when I legitimately stopped feeling like I was a kid.  I still felt immature and not quite a grown up and unable to really say that yes adulthood was in my face and in full effect.  That wouldn’t be so bad but I’m a wee bit older than our commercial ingenue.  I have lived and left what I was hoping would be full and fruitful relationships both vanilla and D/s alike.  A million and one plans have come and gone in the meantime because I only saw some things with certain folks and after waiting for one promise to be kept well past any rational point I gave up on baby dream this past fall in favor of taking care of my health.  So yes chronologically I’ve moved well beyond Ms. Green I am just feeling within the last few years like I’m fully in my skin and loving it 98.9 percent of the time.
  • In terms of my submission, with all of the recognition and realizations I have come to realize I want the responsibility of trying to date like the rest of the world does less and less.  I want to find the man strong enough to make me desire to follow him.  That’s a weird thing about me.  The more you demand submission from me, in big or small ways, the less likely I am to surrender.  Wait until I come to you.  Wait until my resolve looks weak or to be wavering.  Wait until I look like I’m on the verge of tears at the thought of you not being in my life on any level anymore.  At that point I will be just like Ms. Green and be happy to sign my power and control over to you.  I really really don’t want it to begin with.  I want to be a 50s Housewife redux for the right person.  I’m just not going to fold for the wrong scenario though.
  • Ok she lost me on the money thing.  You may be flipping adorable but my money stays in my pocket.
  • I have watched my boundaries on things I thought were hard limits slip with people who can overwhelm me mentally.  Not in an abusive or manipulative way but with the knowledge and understanding that they see me, all of me, and see when my breath quickens and my pulse races and know that my body is opening up to their control.  I want those boundaries pushed and those that are meant to do so will crumble quickly.  Those that aren’t will be respected and we’ll move on to new and exciting adventures.
  • I can’t come running every time one snaps their fingers but when I can I promise I’m one of the most attentive little girls you’ll ever meet.  I enjoy the pressure to perform and the need to please.  I enjoy being literally put in my place and locked into my submission.  I enjoy being able to completely let go of my will, of my other roles, of every thing that is not my dominant and His wishes for me.  That would be the ultimate peak in my journey thus far.  It hasn’t happened enough or with enough frequency for me to say more than the few times it has happened I finally felt whole and complete.
  • Contracts are so formal lol but I may be so inclined to sign one if the right situation presented itself.  Right now I just want to know what is needed of me and where I can best serve and perform and I am a happy girl.

Now having broken down a commercial and how it made me consider my submission I can also say that I have considered packing up my submissive gear and heart and saying no mas.  Over the last year it has become more evident that the contrasting parts of me are going to make it difficult to have one person steer and guide them.   I feel like I’m going to overburden any person that tries cause those needs and wants are on such different poles that he would likely feel disturbed trying to keep me in check.  I still want the comfort and contentment that comes from serving but my super realistic side keeps saying get real girl.  So that’s where I am now.  Trying to sort out real.

I hear music….

I hear music and I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m making this pronouncement. As I go about my day and I think about my life and the things that must be get done, I hear music and it makes me think of you. Some of it makes me smile and other things make me wistful and other things make me want to molest you. But I hear music and then there is you.

Sam Hunt‘s deep voice comes oozing out of my speakers and I sing along off key in a full voice thinking of what it is I need from you at that moment and different choruses resonate with me as I stop at the red light and hope no one sees me enacting my own concert in the front seat.

I don’t wanna steal your freedom
I don’t wanna change your mind
I don’t have to make you love me
I just wanna take your time

He fades away and another Sam replaces his voice. Mr. Smith croons out words that I adore and mourn simultaneously. I wanna lay by your side as you stay with me but I know I’m not the only one even if no one can love you like I can and neither one of us will see the signs of what is going on. My lips are left in a slight curl as he leaves my head and heart clear and empty and full and longing.

Michael makes me giggle uncontrollably and I am glad that it’s a good day and that on some level I may not have embraced all of you yet. Sara tries to remind me that love is still fully possible and I just need to choose better. And maybe I should but I stumble and fall and wish to be as fearless as I try to inspire others to be.

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave
With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I don’t know where the brave version of me went but she probably is hiding because she’s more worried about how the words cut now. Honesty is almost always the best policy I agree but the hurt in a lover’s eyes is a weight I never enjoy carrying. And screw the hurt that could come back to me if I let you into that space where you can devastate my peace and calm. And just as my resolve is starting to fade and I realize I’m just a fractured little girl looking for a pair of big strong arms to envelope me and hide me from the darkness something totally inappropriate comes on and makes me smile. Feelings, yes we all have them but not all of them rush over me in such a way to remind me that yes I hear music and if you could dance to the soundtrack in my brain I may never walk straight, be alone, want for anything but a good meal and your hand as it caresses my head.

But where does he think you are tonight?
Does he know your nasty side?
(Look at her, look at her oh)

If you want me take me home and let me use you
I know he doesn’t satisfy you like I do
And does he know that there’s nobody quite like you
So let me tell you all the things he never told you
(yeah!)

I hear music. All day, all night. I know you can’t spend the night due to my life and your life but all I do is imagine what it would be like having you for breakfast. Gladys creeps in and becomes an anthem for three minutes but I’m not your one and only because I always meet you after another has arrived. So when you press your lips to mine the next time remember this girl can be a bit of fool when she follows her heart but she adores you in ways that she can’t begin to say. But the music can.

Can I talk 2 U?
Tell U what U mean 2 me
Every time U wander
I’ll be your eyes so U can see
I wanna show U things
That I show no other, I wanna be
More than, more than your mother
More than your brother
I wanna be (like no) like no other
If U need me, I’ll never leave
I know, that U know, without U there is no me
There is no me
Without U there is no sea
There is no shore
Love is 2 weak 2 define how much I adore
U, child
U, child
The last words U hear
The last words U hear

(until the end of time)
I’ll be there for you, baby
(until the end of time)

Been a little while, missed you guys

Life has been a whirlwind this summer. At this point I have worked a ton more than I planned, my vacations to Amsterdam (AMAZING) and Toronto (not as much but still good for different reasons lol) have been checked off the list, I have five passport stamps thanks to a canceled flight lol, and for the first time in what feels like a millennia I remembered what it felt like to be kinda slutty. That probably won’t sound like it should be in that list but this latest round of my evolution has brought me back to a place of bad behavior that makes everyone else very very happy.

I spent a little bit of time with the Dutchman while I was in Amsterdam and a few days with Mr. Wolf in Toronto. Combining the two of them into one body may kill me but that would be such a wonderful way to die. It’s amazing to feel my will be taken from me. Prior to July it had been quite some time since I had been used and manipulated and lusted after openly. I asked to be fucked in front of the ridiculously amazing view in my hotel room and got more than I bargained for in that regard. The same was true in Toronto even though I didn’t have a specific request or a great view lol. The intense play just had to wait until after a major commitment was completed. I’m glad that was the case though because I wouldn’t have been able to sleep or sit on my ass comfortably had it been constant.

What I learned in both situations is I actively crave being a bit a of a slut. My body has a visceral reaction to being treated like a whore. And the head space that I slip into is just this side of euphoria. I imagine it’s similar to what the ambrosia on Olympus used to do to those who ate it. My mind is both clear and gone. There is no clarity except to please and receive pleasure. I love that place. If you could bottle it up for me to use on a rainy day I’d love you forever, I promise. The other thing that came from these trips which were slightly under a month apart is that I used to flit from bed to bed at will. One person was great at oral and toying with my clit until I exploded. Another was a ridiculous pleasure to ride and could fuck my ass so well that I would orgasm from that alone. Yet another was hung like a very well endowed horse and moved my internal organs around so I had fuck him twice in the same week so that everything would be in the right place. Fuck I miss his ass lol. Beyond their varying skill sets I greatly enjoyed the knowledge that my skin had to be plied and pulled and had fluids piled upon it by man after man after man.

In the last ten years I haven’t done much of that. I’ve been a good slutty girl for one person and one alone. I don’t think it impacted the relationships negatively. I was happy with those folks and enjoyed being their slut a great deal. I just kind of missed being A slut apparently. So feeling both of them inside of me, mauling at my skin and hurting me so close together has been a stellar moment in my slutty history. We’ll see who and what else is out there yet to experience.

New Books, New Ideas, Itty Bitty Rant

So I have been in reading mode again. I finished Conquer Me which I may have mentioned but if not then I highly recommend it in terms of processing submission and what it means to walk in these shoes. Kacie Cunningham did a great job and it helped me reach out to people in my life in a way that I would not have prior to reading it. She was also able to discuss something for me in well phrase it for me so that I could better explain it and process it. I won’t lift her words here but really there are few and far between books on submission that resonate with me. I’ve tried a few others and they were horrible, I just read one actually and I’ll get to that shortly, or were so out of my depth, realm, understanding or desire that it was just hard for me to take anything of value from them. This was different, not as soul stirring as Diary of a Submissive was for me but it wasn’t meant to be. It was meant to make you think about submission and your role and how you go about getting what you want and need from a partner as well as maintaining your own well being. Well maybe that wasn’t the purpose but it’s what I took from it and for that I thank Kacie, her editors, friends and Master for encouraging her to write this and bringing it to fruition. I bought it sometime last year as I was looking for some more material to help me grow in my submission. I guess we read things when we need to see them and this was a very welcome thought changer, thought creator, thought stimulator etc. So as is often the case when I finish reading one good book I go in search of a new one.

And because as I was thinking about it there were not a lot of good books or even books available on the experience of BDSM from minorities, particularly Black women as I am one and have been looking for these stories, I deliberately went in search of Kink writings from that mindset. Don’t get me wrong there’s fiction of almost every combination but there is limited, or at least I have been unable to find it, real life accounts of discussion of kink or bdsm from an ethnic minority perspective. I kept digging around. Lots of defunct blogs. A few good tumblr pages–interesting but not a book or guide or the like. I searched about eight different ways and stumbled on one book that came out in May so yeah recent is good. Except it wasn’t good. It was the opposite of good. Between the typos and lack of content and random photos of famous Black women I was very very happy that I had not paid for the book–yeah for Kindle Unlimited. I hate to mention the title at all because I don’t want to knock her hustle. She’s at least got something out in the marketplace. However, I may have just been too advanced for her target audience and want you to read for yourself. Gloria Coleman wrote Kinky Kinkster A Submissive Guide to Understanding Black BDSM culture. It’s very very basic so if you consider yourself aware of the introductory topics and roles in BDSM this is not the book for you. If you don’t and you want some help without signing up for a fetish social networking site then have at it. It’s like 3 bucks so it won’t bankrupt you but it will not inform any of those but the very new.

That made me start thinking about my own story. Was it worth writing? Could I legitimately work on it and get it out there? Would anyone give a rat’s ass if I did? Not a clue and I have made no decision on writing it. I feel like we need a non fictional voice in the gap of information out there. I’m finding myself wanting to do that with my work so it may be spilling over into this life as well. I know others are out there. They live out in the open constantly and I envy them more than you know. But for those of us that need the anonymity to maintain our non D/s lives I don’t know those stories. I don’t hear them being touted out and about. And to be clear unless you are writing in one vein it’s unlikely that BDSM stories will hit mainstream publishing with much force because just like the people who are living D/s on display the rest of the world sees them as too out there and not giving them all the warm and fuzzy moments of a twisted love story.

I am processing way too much in addition to what I’ve already shared. So I’m going to check out now and get back to letting my brain float off.

Frustrated

This isn’t really a rant but it may come across that way so I apologize in advance if it does. Before I get into that though, I will say that my trip to Amsterdam was amazing. The city is so pretty and it felt great to not be on any schedule whatsoever. I ate good food, saw things so beautiful that it made me dread coming home and had a view that was out of this world. I also got to spend some time with The Dutchman who was taller than I expected for some reason lol and an absolute gentleman. Well gentleman if you consider my interests but really just added icing to what had already been one of the best experiences of my life. If you ever get a chance to go please do.

You know this is really my fault but I have not been good at making new friends. I tend to meet people through other people. I can easily adjust to new groups of people but making those connections does not come naturally to me. They didn’t when I was a military brat and moving every two years. They come even less so now. Despite my on nature when I have to present or do something similar, I am ridiculously shy and reserved when pushed out to do something on my own. I am slightly dumbfounded that I boarded the plane for Amsterdam since I was going alone but talking to people and doing things as momentarily Dutch red was much easier than doing it as American red. So here I am now needing to venture out and make new friends and I am legitimately at a loss.

I had a situation mulling around in my brain for weeks that I ended up asking a group of kind strangers about because I didn’t have one person close enough to me, and not involved in the situation, to talk to about it. I have vanilla friends that I could have stripped it down and talked to about the situation but this is something that I wanted the whole BDSM trappings around. I’ve had one really close submissive friend for a while, you’ve heard me talk about her on here before, but her life is in full out mode so she’s been a bit tied up lately. That leaves me with lots of acquaintances but no other sounding boards. I know it’s easier to find some of those people in person so I did what I normally do and started with a quick search online to see if I could find like minded individuals preferably who were also Black and make my car take me to those people. Well if they exist locally they are hiding well because I couldn’t find a thing. The closest thing I could find was in Chicago–several hours away–and they weren’t any more active than the long since defunct group closer to my town. I just wanna meet some friends around my age who also have lives to protect so being out and about at a local cafe isn’t an option lol. Plus I don’t like coffee or the smell of it–headache time.

Where are the people with permanent tans all hanging out if they don’t live on the east or west coast? Come out come out wherever you are. Say hi. I just wanna chat. And maybe vent when I’m frustrated and let you vent when you’re frustrated. I’m more of the bitee instead of the biter so you’re safe. See ya later. And if you have any suggestions let me know.

When you’re ready for it….

So this may seem like a random departure from the last few posts and it may be but it’s still necessary to share with you. I have been thinking a lot about what is next for my life. I’m embracing a million different things because I want to say I’ve tried or done them. I’m leaving the country soon–actually twice if I include something for work, I’m learning to play tennis, I went back and took more pinup photos, I’ve lost fifty pounds, I’m relishing all this lovely gray hair and I’m reading more. And when I do that last one I learn things about myself that I wasn’t planning on when I picked up the book.

A little over a year ago, The Dutchman gifted me with a copy of Diary of a Submissive by Sophie Morgan. It was like I had been given a shot of adrenaline as I thumb through the pages. Not because it was sexually arousing, I mean parts were but other parts really made me evaluate my submissive life lol, but because it was like reading my own journal if I was more skilled and able to convey those thoughts to others easily. Sophie was a normal girl who liked her men a little different and her sex with an extra dash of something. I could relate to her because I was her save the British and white thing but seriously she could have been my submissive twin. It made me recenter and stop feeling lesser than because I didn’t have a “submissive heart” and for damn sure not a “slave’s heart.” I have a desire to serve one person that can make me focus if I’m being honest. I very rarely concentrate on one thing at a time because it’s not enough to catch my attention and keep it. Right now I’m blogging, just put out the mail, watching tv and chatting online. And this is a bit of a slow time because I’m also not doing work for other areas of my life lol. I need the man that makes me willingly strip all of that away and just focus on Him and us. I say all that to say books when introduced at the right time can be crucial for my development and thought process. I didn’t walk away from the lifestyle last year. I doubled down my efforts to enjoy it and I have so much. That’s part of what created the bucket list and I am trying to work through it now. Anyhoo, back to the impact of books.

The last time I had to do an airport run I ended up traipsing to the book store to kill some time. I picked up some more travel guides about my upcoming trip and then stumbled into the humor section after perusing the fiction, Sci Fi and loosely connected BDSM section. Let’s Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson made me crack up and I figured I needed a good laugh as I have been in a weird place emotionally as of late. So I looked around and most of the books were not ones I’d want on my shelf after I finished reading them so I opted to check them out of the library if I wanted to but leave all but What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding by Kristin Newman and Toddlers are Assholes: it’s not your fault by Bunmi Laditan. Now the second one is linked to The Honest Toddler which I love which is why I had to buy it. The first though was like a tiny bit of kismet given my upcoming travel plans and general relationship wanderlust. As I read it was a totally vanilla sense of connecting with my people again, very similar to the experience I had while reading Diary of a Submissive. I can’t say I have ever been as anal as she was about the picking apart of what I was doing with who I was doing it with but I know that my patterns have been similar to hers in some areas.

I’m not afraid to get married, even though pushing humans out of my body seems terrifying, but I’m also not in a rush to do so either. And much like Kristin I was looking for that thunderstruck moment because it was going to take that to get my attention but also like her I realize that moment is probably a set up. It makes us stick with the wrong people longer than we should because we are trying to recapture that rush. It makes us ignore other people because they never give us that rush. And it takes us having a really grown up moment until we figure out the right balance of intrigue and emotion and embracing of love in a different package. I don’t think I’ve had my grown up moment yet. I’m hoping that the trip helps me really step into whomever I’m meant to be right now in this moment. I’ve already been a great tart and a great eager submissive and I am transitioning into a more depraved needing of psychological degradation kind of submissive. My picker is still off though. I need to let go of something but I’m not sure what it is. I hope in a few weeks I’ll be clearer in whatever that was so I can dive head first into what the universe has waiting for me. What I haven’t been ready to envelop myself in and explore. I’m ready to be ready if that makes sense.

Books, tricky little devils I promise. Just be open and ready to hear the message they are sharing with you.

This Girl is On Tired

Last week I told you I was angry and this week well I’m just tired. I have been busy as usual and between the last post and this one I’ve hopped four planes and driving four hours on top of my normal working and commuting schedule. And I added in tennis lessons which I’ve wanted to do forever because I get semi obsessed with the sport for the summer months when most of the majors are played. All in all it’s been a hectic six days. It hasn’t even been a week yet but provided it doesn’t rain I’ll get in my fourth lesson for the week and rest on Friday. I’m also going in for a quick wash and set so someone else can nurture my hair and I can sleep good and hard with clean loved on hair.

It’s two weeks until my trip though and I’m super excited about that. It will be the first big break of the last full year and it will be somewhere I have to go and enjoy life and liberty and the pursuit of entertainment. As I’m working on getting ready for that and have been reading my book What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding, I have realized that I am one of those people that doesn’t really doesn’t do what you are supposed to do in the place you are supposed to do it. I’m tired of being that person as well. I want to really experience life on this trip. I want to see the tourist things and the non tourist things. Check out life at a different speed and hopefully have a good time. Well fuck the hopefully. I will have a good time damn it.

And I’m tired of something else if I’m going to be honest. I have really good friends who I don’t always reach out to when I should. One of them sent me a box of things she had been collecting for me from events and sent a very sweet note to tell me she was thinking about me. I can fall off the grid when I get busy sometimes which isn’t always fair. But there are people that I do reach out to and don’t get back the same energy I’m willing to put in. I may pull back but I’m easy to reengage sometimes. Right now though I’m tired of trying to figure out what I need to do with some relationships in my life. I am just tired of not getting it right. So the folks I care about are about to get an overload of red. Everyone else will get super duper entertaining but not effusive red. Folks that I give two fucks about well that’s all you’re getting so I hope you enjoyed it lol.

On that note I’m going to lay it down soon. Hope you have a great rest of your week and I will definitely be trying to do the same thing. Miss ya love ya and I will be soon singing a love song to my pillow.

i am fucking angry

this will be random as hell and not at all coherent so stop reading now if you are looking for something kinky or well thought out.

this week has made my mind snap when it comes to race and racial issues. crazy broad thinks she can be black because she identifies with black people. when that started depends on who she’s talking to but she seemed to remember she was white when she sued Howard University for discriminating against her. then came the inevitable defense of her behavior and why can’t she be black and look at all she did for black people. well let’s just forget about all the fuckery that ensues from her behavior and give her a fucking gold star for giving it the old college try. after all being a black woman is the best thing on the planet so why wouldn’t all women want to be black? well clearly some of you do cause you risk getting skin cancer trying to put some color in your skin but none of you really want to be melanin rich because save the glowing skin you don’t benefit the way you do when you lose that color and are just an adorable blonde again. as for the rest of it get the fuck out of here with that bull shit as the kids would say.

the dominican republic is about to start forcibly relocating their residents Haitian descent who can’t prove they are dominican. they only have two ways to do that and i’m nearly positive they were constructed because most people wouldn’t be able to provide that information. under pressure from outside forces they may delay the deportations but they won’t stop them. in the interim the Haitians are being randomly murdered and in one case hung in a public square for everyone to see. some of you may be wondering what the hell makes you mad about that i mean that’s black on black crime right? well no one should be kicked out of their home they have clearly lived in for generations but this is being done mostly because of skin tone. those closer to my skin tone are being exiled and hunted and blamed for any number of things that they didn’t do. much like they do right here in this country of ours. i had no immediate plans to visit the dominican republic but Mr. Wolf really likes it and wanted to go. my brain can’t allow that. yes as he said they are being more obvious than they ever will be in the united states about their racial hatred but i can’t see spending my funds in yet another country that hates people that look like me when i’ve having trouble dealing with the shit that exists here at home.

as i was finally letting that go of my anger at blatant racism and putting that broad into the big box of crazy shit i hear that someone walked into a church, a fucking me church, and proceeded to kill nine people. killed them because they were black, killed them without remorse, reloaded and made someone beg for their life then walked away so that she could tell the world why he came. and MOTHERFUCKERS are this morning saying we need to stop making things about race and he’s not a terrorist he’s just a confused and clearly insane person. QUIT FUCKING INSULTING THE CRAZY FOLKS OUT THERE. they don’t go around shooting people because they don’t like them. that strictly some shit that it primarily seems young white lonely men do to make a point, to feel powerful, to be recognized but not because any of the people they target legitimately did something to threaten them. and then the gun nuts come out and say wait wait he didn’t have any record of mental illness so his guns were purchased legally we couldn’t possibly know he might kill someone with the guns. if you’re not hunting or in a war zone the average citizen doesn’t need a hand gun. most of us wouldn’t have a record of mental illness when we purchased a gun but you also won’t report when that snap happens so we can come pick those up and make us all a little safer. plus it only takes one bad day for someone to no longer be sane and then we’ve got a well armed psychotically pissed person on the prowl.

i am tired of trying to reconcile the actual fantastic people i know with the crazy shit that comes out of the mouths of people that look like them after each one of these things happens. defend and dismiss, defend and dismiss, defend and dismiss over and over again. you diminish me and everyone that looks like me when you defend clearly racially motivated moments in this country and call us sensitive for drawing your attention to it. as best as i can tell the vast majority of you only really like us when you’re recycling our style from 5 years ago, we’re dancing, playing sports, singing or fucking you. those that are in my circle i love like they are my family. they understand or at least they attempt to without making excuses. their children don’t understand the diminishing because i’ve never been anything other than aunt red who happens to be brown. they are my only hope that we can be better but they are so outnumbered it just vexes me.

and it makes me weary to think that this won’t be the first or the last incident like this in my lifetime. there will be another and another and another round of dismissal and diminishing. and i will be on the edge of becoming that angry black woman you like so much in Madea movies. i cried this morning and i’m crying now because i don’t know what to do with all of this anger. i am disturbed and unnerved and weeping that in the almost 40 years i’ve been on the planet i still feel like that small little girl in the back on the class hoping for one friend to really get me. i’ve had them repeatedly and that could be part of the problem. since those are my people i never paid much attention to the others. the others who thought i was there as part of some affirmative action push. who thought i wasn’t as good as they were. who weren’t attracted to me. i didn’t give a rat’s ass about them because i had my people. i should have been paying more attention that my people are a small tribe and the others are legion. yes i’m weary but even legions can be destroyed.

TLDR or sorry this is gonna be long

I’m at the end of a random day. I went in to my office for some meetings and ended up there longer than I planned. I came home and did my hair which will get trimmed in the morning and hopefully I can get my nails touched up before my trip on Friday. I upgraded my seats on the way up cause full coach window seat is SUPER not appealing just so we’re clear. I’ll come home to an empty house and then be on countdown until the major travel plans in July. I’m more excited about that than you can possibly know and not for the reasons that were present when I planned the trip with Mr. Wolf. It was gonna be a week long geek fest with some debauchery tossed in with just a hint of sadistic visitor on tap. The geek fest still may happen. As I’m thinking about things to do I realize how nerdy and shy I really am. I’m pretty sure I could be fucked royally if I was receptive to vacation sex. At the moment, I’m more concerned about not being kidnapped or murdered in my hotel room than I am about having an orgasm with company on a different continent. That’s not to say it won’t happen but it’s not high up on my list of things to do honestly.

I realized something else as I was reading the updates from my friends who went to an event this weekend. Save my one venturing out last year at Black Beat I don’t really mix and mingle as much as I used to when I was younger. I know I’ve mentioned this before but the fearless version of me disappeared into the wilderness a long time ago. I can’t say I miss her except in moments like this. She’d be encouraging the young man who was fascinated by her nipples to meet her in the lobby of her hotel after lunch and allow him to give them a twirl. If he was able to moisten her panties she’d give him the blow job to end all blow jobs and make him pant after her when she headed back to her low key life. I started reading a book as I was waiting for the Relay for Life to start and it encouraged just such reckless behavior as just something you should do while you are on vacation in another country because when else would you be able to fuck a local with more than likely no threat of it ever tripping you up at home. I agree in theory but I don’t know if the brass balls I used to possess will return when I make my connection in Atlanta or not lol. We shall see.

That would be great for vacation but honestly that voice in me is stifled a lot. Not out of fear of being lonely but because it got me in trouble more often than not. I have been known to decimate a room if I’m in a mood. I can create an erection with a few words just as easily as I can deflate it with one look. And thanks to my exes and their oral machinations which I must have picked up through osmosis I have made every woman I’ve ever fucked just slightly stupid. But yeah I don’t approach them any faster than I approach men. It’s not fear or even lack of interest totally. I think it has mostly to do with the lack of immediacy. It’s easy to be reckless when what you want is readily available and I can be sated or denied quickly. That slow build that distance provides will make me burn longer but you have to work to maintain that and I have yet to not be disappointed by folks not reading me well enough to stoke the flame at just the right moments. Constant flames just burn up all the air around me so that’s not good either. For some reason my Uncle’s words when he was barbecuing just popped into my head, “low and slow makes everything tender and juicy.” Those words taken totally out of context are probably pretty spot on.

I enjoy a good hard fuck just as much as the next girl. I like to be sore and twisted up and gasping for air and water and a break. I love to be fucked slowly, deeply, to have my body contort around yours because I’m trying to pull you deeper inside of me as you whisper all manner of demented, depraved and disturbing things in my ear. I greatly miss being on top of you rocking my hips slowly with closed eyes and stunned by the intrusion of your fingers toying with my clit. That’s literally like one of the best things EVER. Ahh talented exes again. Anyway where was I oh yeah. A good hard fuck gets the job done but a slow, luxurious, mind altering fuck keeps me enraptured with you. Low and slow baby low and slow. But the physicality only works if you are nearby or we can make you nearby often. After that you have to take up residence in my brain if you want to have any shot of making me burn.

Alas, that’s the most difficult part of the quieter version of me. When I’m not as boisterous or flirtatious or just exposed it’s much harder to figure out what you need to do in order to overwhelm me in that way. In my adult life I can say that five men have managed to accomplish that feat. Like one every five years or so but really there was a huge gap between the second and third and not as much between third and fourth. The fifth well he fell victim to the stoked too high and sputtering out thing. Weird thing about brain residence though. The right approach later on may regain you even momentary entrance into the inner sanctum. No one has been able to stay permanently clearly. The other issue with brain residence as well is I can’t tell you how to get there. No one has taken the same path to get there. But they all noticed the right thing about me at the time and used it to out think, out maneuver, outrun whatever my hesitations or limitations or reservations may have been. And instead of being upset or angry about being manipulated, which I could completely feel happening, I lapped it up like a hungry puppy. Had they been serving lust in a doggie dish I would have been on hands and knees gorging myself and moaning into the air each time they fucked me like I was a bitch in heat. I can drag an analogy to death can’t I? Moving on.

I can’t really afford to be reckless these days. Well at least not reckless all the time the way I could sometimes be in the past. But I would like to be slightly less reserved and responsible. I would like to be inspired to pick up and just let loose in a strange place with strange people who are still my people. I rarely see the men that make me reckless anymore. There’s one just bless him and whatever cosmic forces made his birth possible cause fuck his skin makes me weak. He’s gorgeous and relentless flirt with everyone so of course I take none of it seriously but really his skin makes me stupid. Now that I think about it the reckless ones all had pretty skin, nice tattoos and would make me convulse I came so many times. They were talkers, experts with double entendre and above all never seemed pressed for my attention. That is not to say they were not pressed for that attention. Raw lust is hard to disguise, the lengths with which they would go to the inside of me were more than telling (like the one that got the speeding ticket coming home because I told him I would be leaving shortly, that was a lovely ego boost I’ll admit it lol), and the fact that most of them have shown me that these many moons later I just have to arrive in town and orgasms and good conversations will be on tap. That’s the level of reckless I allow myself to have now. It’s good when I get it but it’s not tinged with the edge that I need. That edge is darker than I thought it was when I was being reckless. When I was fucking a dude who was at least a foot taller than me whose dick felt like a 10 inch long Coke can when it dug into me. Felt fucking amazing and is probably one of the only times I can say I legitimately ran away from dick in bed to no avail lol. I’d have to fuck him in sets of two otherwise my organs would be in the wrong fucking locations when I went home. It was also one of the first few times I had a clear understanding that pain could feel good when I was already feeling good. Add into that my ass became target practice when were in doggie style and the line got good and blurred and I loved it. I think I’ve mentioned that before but I kept up with that kind of reckless, threesomes and foursomes and moresomes because it was the closest I could get to this thing I need now with the people who weren’t quite my people. I have yet to put him back on the ex hit parade. Giving him more permission to hurt me may end up with a bitch being paralyzed and that is not the business.

I still have images of my former brain residents more inviting fantasies and displays of aggression and raw sexuality. They can feed my orgasms when I allow them. It’s great when I do, the mixture of voices and depravity. Of lust and cum faces. Of fantasies and humiliation. All so good in their own way. All so disappointing in the light of day. They make me miss that other me that just wants to be free and fuck and be a fantasy fulfillment center the way I used to be. That I still might be with the right person pulling the strings. I don’t know where to find her though. I’m not sure if it’s safe to bring her out to play anymore even if I could locate her free spirited fuckery. Heck if I’m honest I’d be lightweight overjoyed with just the ability to engage in witty banter free and easy like I used to be. If I’m not that girl anymore and this girl isn’t quite where I want to be I need to start thinking about who I want to be become. That may be my next mission. Who knows? I’m thinking too much but I tend to do that sometimes. Oh well, I told you this would be long. If you made it all the way down here and have a question please let me know. I keep thinking I’ll offer up an Ask me anything moment but most of you wouldn’t have much to ask and that would probably just make me sad lol.

The Smell of Fresh Baked Cookies

This post may be a rambling mess so I apologize. I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned the episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when she tells Angel she’s not done baking yet. I used that analogy when talking to Mr. Wolf tonight and I’m glad I did. You my brain can be uber literal and only be holding on to one definition of things. Everyone gets unbaked cookies. Can’t be super unbaked cause that will make you sick. For me you can’t be overdone cause no one likes crunchy cookies. Well I don’t anyway. The perfectly baked cookie makes my mouth water and makes my nose happy. We all bake at different speeds and I’m willing for my favorite cookies to firm up.

Beyond that though there is something to be said for one thing Mr. Wolf does that I don’t always, if ever, adhere to which is being blatantly balls out honest and direct. As I have mentioned before I’m great with being direct when I don’t want much from you other than a good fuck. The relationship stuff I try to navigate the honesty with the desire to not dive bomb people emotionally. I can be beyond blunt when I have hit the “don’t give a fuck” zone. I try not to get there anymore before I cut things off. When I do you’ll know but my disinterest can’t be masked. I will still help you out and we can still talk but truly don’t give a rats ass about seeing you or being gentle with your emotions. My anger and irritation still means I care. My disinterest just means pack up your shit and head on out.

Always trust my desire as it’s the most palpable indication of whether I give a fuck. It’s that smell of sugar and butter when you walk into the bakery. Ever present when I want you. Absent when I’ve decided to give you up for Lent. It may possibly return if you’re a great baker but if not head down the block. I’m sure someone down that way is ok with overdone cookies and will devour you.