That awkward moment when…
you want to nom on your own tits.
Can has?
(Source: fuckmaker)
Just had an awkward dream in which I was going through some sort of initiation which involved seeing how long I could handle being fucked by a fucking machine. Immediately afterward, I was walking alongside two of my high school friends and proceeded to kiss the female of the two, making her quiver in my arms.
Pot dreams are weird.
The ‘ploop’ of cum during post-coitus pee always makes me laugh.
That is all.
In the beginning…
I don’t believe I’ve gone through the whole story about the boyfriend and me, and if I have, I apologize for revisiting it.
See, when we met he was supposed to be very, very mad at me. I had almost been brainwashed by this 40 year old man into thinking that I should be his concubine and that I should never even meet the boyfriend. I snapped out of it and tried to make things up to the (soon to be) boyfriend, but he didn’t want anything to do with me. I showed up at his house the next day anyway, which is a three hour drive, heh. Or was.
We hugged and it was all over. We still refer to it as “The Hug”. He likes to say that it was like licking lightning. The best part is, we still didn’t know that we had met our match.
I apologized for being a silly bitch and somehow things progressed to me being on top of him. He wasn’t going to fuck me. He absolutely REFUSED. I had to give him something big in exchange if I wanted to fuck him. He started off big with, “You can only fuck me if you leave your husband immediately and come live with me.” I couldn’t do that; I still believed my marriage could be salvaged. The next step down was to be his sex slave. Forever. I agreed, but I didn’t realize then how much I would love being owned. You know the rest of the story. It was amazing, I felt complete, I cried, and now I’m here.
For the longest time he was just a kid with a plaything, though he only pulled it out every once in awhile. I had a collar. Two, in fact: one for just us and one for out in public. I haven’t worn the one for being out in public in a long time because it has vanished behind my dresser and doesn’t match much of my clothes. I’ve worn the other one, the Gack one, twice. I’ll probably be wearing it a lot more often now.
Speaking of Gack, I think I’ve mentioned that he likes to call me that because of my initials, but there’s more to it now. Gack is basically my sexual persona, the submissive cumslut in the back of my mind. I’m Gabby in the relationship, in which I wear the pants, but Gack is completely different. We figured this out early on in the moving in process. Gack needs to get fucked. Gabby wants to be loved. Gack requires a cock inside her. Gabby requires emotional security.
Anyway, I’ve been missing the full-on Gack a lot. The boyfriend has been avoiding it because he feels it’s not only damaging but it could also be addictive for him. The only damage that could be done would be for me to lose respect for him as my Dom/Master because while the D/s dynamic is the foundation of our relationship, it’s also a separate entity. If I lost my respect for him as my Dom, I would just not want to be his slave. It would take a helluva lot for him to do so, though. Point here is that I missed my collar.
I sat before him on my knees with my collar in my mouth, eyes pleading. We fucked twice with the collar on and both times my brain shut off. Blowjobs are second nature with the collar on. My pussy is a piece of meat and his cock is a fucking carnivore. He fucked me harder than he ever has before and the next day I wanted more even though my pussy was so abused. But that was a different me the next day. That was the girlfriend who wanted her boyfriend to fuck her, to please her, to look at her with love in his eyes and not hunger or madness.
Last night we talked about rules. He has to cum down my throat at least twice a week. If I fail to do so, I am his lap pet for an hour. He has to cum twice every time we fuck. If I refuse to fuck him when I’m tired or something, he has the choice of either cumming on my face or having me ‘make him a sammich’. Note: these are both just sub me and slave me rules. Also, I have to watch a porn with him once a month. …I do love porn.
We fucked afterward, of course. I told him I want to be bitten more, bruised more, bound more. I want all of BDSM, not just a sad version of the DS part. I want him to flog me, to use me, to take control of my throat, my ass, my pussy. I told him to bite me and I have a nice bruise blossoming on my tit. He came so hard, so much. To top it all off, we both had a beer in bed while still nude and cum drenched.
I love this man.
Nyan Cock
“I think I just came rainbows.”
“You are pretty gay.”
“No, it’s like…Nyan Cock.”
“…My vagina’s singing…nyannyannyannyan…”
I’m a horrible person
But I like it.
I made out with a 17 year old girl last weekend and I don’t feel completely dirty about it. Surprisingly. And now she’s going to be my pet and/or girlfriend. This is going to be interesting.
More to come later.
(via ourfirsttime)
It’s been soooooo long
Like the boyfriend’s penis. Ohhhhhhh….
Yeah, that was horrible. Anyway, I believe it is way past time for an update on my almost-monogamous sex life/relationship. It would be best to start off with:
NO LONGER BICURIOUS!!!! (DOUBLE RAINBOWS EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!!)
This happened just recently and I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about it. See, I have this friend, been friends since middle school and technically even before then, and everyone we both know thinks we have not only had sex but also multiple threesomes. My own sister believes we’ve had multiple threesomes. I’d never done more than kiss or playfully fondle her before last weekend.
The way it happened… I was back in town visiting and had just come back from having a talk with my (soon to be ex) husband… Yeah, I bet you previous readers forgot all about that tidbit. Yeah, the d-word has been dropped and we just have to get the right paperwork and send it off. Fortunately, we’re still friendly and both over it.
Anyway, so my friend picked me up for some veg time. She had told me beforehand that her husband (yeah, she’s unhappily married too) would definitely be home, so I figured nothing too naughty would happen. All three of us shared a bowl, which is cool because this chick was the first person I ever smoked with, and he went off to play Skyrim while we ventured down to the basement. I was content to just stare at the wall for a good half hour when she made it abundantly clear that she wanted to makeout. “It’s like we both know it’s going to happen, hehehehe.” So many nervous giggles were had before we just went at it. Desperate my-parents-are-finally-asleep making out and gropings. While it was kinda really hot, I was very aware of how thin her lips were, how dry both our mouths were, how she still does the punk sideways belt thing so I couldn’t get my hand in her damn pants. Her hands were busy exploring my more easily accessible regions. I would have screamed when I came if her nipple hadn’t been in my mouth.
Then the guilt came. Pretty much right after I came, she pulled away and put everything back in order so I followed suit. With the guilt came paranoia, which still weirds me out because while I may be an emotional sponge when I’m high, I’ve never been paranoid per se. Her husband basically had to sit her down and be weed babysitter. He put on Friends with Benefits (AHAHAHAHAHA!) and made cookies. It was like a little sleepover. After the movie I went back to my sister’s place and had to tell somebody about it, but I couldn’t becasue everyone was still awake. Brother, brother-in-law, sister, even my niece. I just wanted a moment to tell the boyfriend, but alas, the task of hearing about it went to my new friend “Dexter” Mike. Let’s just call him Dexter.
Dexter is another story, which isn’t really…sexual at all. I did tell him that I wouldn’t mind fucking him if I had free reign to do so, but the rules say no. The rules are now as such: the boyfriend and I can have makeout buddies with light petting but we have to have visual confirmation and also have veto power. Dexter wasn’t really into that because he saves kissing and making out for more closely intimate partners and not just friends. But yeah, the Dexter thing… I hung out with this guy once and he has sooooo many collections. Comic books, posters, gaming supplies, nerf guns, dragons, movies (both VHS and DVDs). When I told the boyfriend about it, he was like, “Oh God, he’s like the guy from season 6 of Dexter. That’s kinda creepy.”
So we just…hung out. Nothing happened. Not even the lazy I’m-getting-comfortable-by putting-my-head-on-your-shoudler come on. I was extremely proud of myself. Then again, he didn’t really seem entirely into me. He probably thinks I’m an amusing young person (he’s 7 years old than I am). So now I has friends!
And it is in fact plural! Although this is kind of a long story which begins a little while after I moved in with the boyfriend. See, he had a good idea in that he wanted female friends for both of us. He wanted some girl who I could talk to when he does something fucked up in bed and someone he could talk to when I’m mad at him for doing something fucked up in bed. Heh…
So the first girl—we’ll call her Pokéfreak—was in a sort of friends with benefits thing with one of the boyfriend’s friends. She had also been extremely interested in the boyfriend’s penis until he explained some of our early rules. I added her on Facebook and we all three talked about the other person until the boyfriend finally invited her over just to hang out. We all had a pretty great time.
We haven’t seen her since.
The boyfriend’s theory is that she saw that we were in an actual relationship and not just fucking around so she couldn’t just have crazy sexy times with us. I agree with it, but there’s also the fact that 1) she said that I’m “cute but not her type”, 2) she’s a gold digging whore. Number 2 we learned about a bit later from one of her roommates. So in summary: “Oh no, it’s like an actual relationship and she’s not my type AND they’re poor. Must leave.”
The second girl was a good idea at first. The boyfriend found this girl on the dating site and since the only name we had for her was also a pseudonym, I’ll refer to her as such. Chela was in a Master/slave relationship and looking for other partners. This would have been great because she and I could both recount our tales of being slaves and learned a bit about how her poly relationship worked and how we could make ours work. Turns out she was just a brat. The boyfriend kept telling her that the key to his penis was to either get explicit approval from me or to be knuckle deep in my pussy. During this time we actually sat down and came up with official rules, which he told her about. He never actually told me what happened with her, but I bet she had a moment of realization. “So…about the dick? S’not gonna happen, is it? Later!”
That was strike 2 even though we never actually met the chick. I’ve been a little apprehensive about everything since then, so when we both started talking to another girl on the dating site, I wasn’t expecting anything to happen. She is an awesome, voluptuous Bettie Page type of chick with pink and black hair. So we will aptly refer to her as Bettie Page. See, Bettie was getting along with both of us until she didn’t respond to three texts I sent to her and she vanished because of a developing relationship. This was about 2 months ago, so I figured nothing would come of it. Well, when I came home from hanging with Dexter a week ago, he was texting her, trying to arrange a meeting. I was a bit apprehensive, but went along with it. I basically told him the day she was supposed to come out that if things didn’t go well this would be strike three.
It turns out she’s just as awesome in person. There was food, Munchkin, music, and conversation. And she played with my hair! And pulled it. And made me all hot and bothered as well. I hid it well, though. I was too tired to think of trying to take advantage of that situtation. Plus during the conversation she explained her feelings on becoming involved with couples (she would need a male main first) and her feelings on being poly as well. One of the first things she talked about when she came in was how she met a guy on the dating site who was like, a 99% match with whom she had no chemistry, but it turned out they could just get each other off and let that be it. I had a moment of, “Take me with you…” Sometimes I do miss having the full equal exchange of being poly, or woo woo poly as some call it. But then the boyfriend and I fuck and I remember how content I am. More than content, I’m really happy physically. It’s just everything else we have to work on, which a lot of it is coming along pretty well.
But yes, I hope Bettie keeps hanging with us and eventually becomes a play partner. She is so damn sexy. I hope at some point things fall into place with the boyfriend and I. I hope we can eventually try a triad, I hope we have multiple threesomes, I hope we make it, period.
Meanwhile, on Alderaan…
It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Let me just say many, many changes have occurred in the past couple of months. I quit my job, moved in with my boyfriend, realized just how bad the job situation is over here, and am now trying to keep myself entertained by writing and other anti-insanity activities. Mostly just writing and sex, lots and lots of sex.
You know, I always wonder—why can men say they could have sex every day, yet when they do they back down then masturbate on the days they don’t have sex?
It’s not that the boyfriend is letting me down as far as sex. It’s just that I can see how much of a strain my libido is on his own. But on our days off, I walk in on him jerking off to porn a lot, which the boyfriend and his porn collection are another story completely. The point is, no matter how much my brain says that he’s a man, he’s going to masturbate. It’s inevitable. Every time it happens, I still feel like I’m failing a little bit as his lover.
As far as the boyfriend and his porn, I believe he’s at the level of real addiction. He has a stack about a foot high of magazines, a small collection of hentai manga, probably 20 DVDs, and sooooo much downloaded porn that it’s ridiculous. Does any one man really need that much porn?
I don’t usually come here to complain, but who gives a fuck anymore? I’m tied down so my stories aren’t varying, which was the whole point of this blog.
Funny story, though. We had a marathon the other night, probably fucked three times in about an hour. Our pillow talk went something like this:
“I get it now. You fuck me because you need to fuck. I’m fucking you because you’re beautiful. I’m fucking you because I love you. I’m fucking you because it’s the best I’ve ever had. I’m fucking you because I love to fuck. I’m fucking you because I know you need to fuck, so I go through all these different things in my head when I’m fucking you while you just have this need. It’s like…I’m a Jedi and you’re a Sith lord. You’re like, ‘Break some stuff!’ I’m like, ‘Are the stars aligned for what I’m doing?’ You’re like, ‘LIGHTSABER, BITCH!’ and I’m like, ‘Does justice and the Force allow for this discrepancy against my fellow man? Is it right to destroy?’ You’re like, ‘Alderaan, WHOOPS!’”
Yeah, my boyfriend waxes philosophical with Star Wars.
In other news, I managed to tie myself up, heh. I’ve been curious about Shibari for awhile and found a DIY thing. Fun times. OH! And I had a girl date, which wasn’t entirely a success, but could eventually be one.