Thoughts from the bottom

I'll write about my weekend this weekend, it was my first ever BDSM con, it was nice, that has several posts of it's own coming up. Lots of fun stuff happened.

This here is my own ramblings, and I'm just gonna come out with my little disclaimer here, this isn't meant to ruffle any feathers. I know plenty of people who are content with a light spanking, and that is awesome! They are some of my dearest friends, and there is nothing wrong with being happy with just that, the same goes for tops, there is nothing wrong with not being interested in cutting someones back open with a single tail, and hobbling their feet with a cane, thats totally awesome too. Personally I consider myself to be a fairly heavy bottom, so I'll be writing more along where I'm at in terms of that.

I consider myself to be a pretty heavy player, I like to get worked and challenged on a fairly regular basis, it keeps me sharp and on my toes. I appreciate that, and I can appreciate someone who can dish it out and know exactly what they are doing. I don't mess around with my SM, I have rules that I never deviate from when it comes to my play. The first and foremost rule being if I don't know you, I won't play with you. Period. End of story. Do not pass go, do not collect $200 dollars. It's that simple.

So what do we do if we can't get the dream cane scene? Where do we find the daddy or mommy or whatever who will take control? Where are the stun guns and piss play? I cannot tell you that. If I could, I would have found these things a long time ago and (for the most part) hung up my bratty princess crown.

So how do we handle this internal push for our dream scene? How do we control our desires for this? Some people are lucky enough to have a friend who tops that they know and trust and can go to and ask for a scene, that is certainly one way of dealing with it. Others find other ways to occupy their time and minds. I like to quilt and bake, personally. I go for long walks and sing, whatever I feel like, jazz, opera, whatever, sometimes I sing along to 'Ultimate Dance Party' and shake my ass in my living room. It's okay to cry and get frustrated, goodness knows I have. I get angry, I WANT someone to pull my hair and call me a fucking pig and make me do whatever it is I've been told to do, even though in any other case I would've just shrugged and gone off to do it.

On the otherside of that same coin, last August I had a breakdown one afternoon. You see, I had gone from a relationship where the play had plateaued, I wasn't feeling challenged, to a relationship where I was being introduced to much heavier players who were interested in say, caning the tops of my thighs and tying my hair to my feet, and, pfft, I dunno, flogging me until their arm got tired from whacking me so hard. I reached a point where I literally did not know how far I was prepared to go. A year later, I still don't. I haven't reached my limit for pain yet. I consider it a point of pride that I called a safeword once, and it only because I felt it was an unsafe scene for me to be in. The equipment was shoddy. I entertain dark fears that I will end up in a hospital because I let it go too far. But that is why I am so picky about my tops, so very very picky. They generally know to call the scene when I don't.

It doesn't help that I've been known to pull out books to read while I'm being beaten because I get bored. Yes, I get bored sometimes. I'm not interested in stopping pulling my shit, I guess I'm just afraid that I'll misread someone one day, and wind up waaay in over my head. And then what? Will I be told that I did it to myself and be made to clean up my own mess, will I be able to get up at all? I have no idea.

These are real concerns of mine as a bottom, not as a sub, as a bottom, trying to find that balance. Balance, what an amazing word, it evokes so much. But it is so important to find that balance. If I sit around bitching that I'm never gonna get my dream scene, well then, I'm doing it to myself at a certain point, now aren't I? But if I don't know what I'm about when I go out to play, then I am setting myself up for a real downfall that could have potentially serious consequences. I dunno, these are just my thoughts, meandering as they are. Maybe I'll have answers to my questions one day, maybe I won't. Whose to say what the future holds in store for any of us?

School

Sorry I've been posting random tidbits, I have lots of fun stuff to post about, like my first suspension scene, and *gasp* Jefferson finally found my g-spot and managed to keep it in one place, and the nose thing. And a whole lot of other stuff in like, the last week. Problem is is that I'm ripping my hair out trying to get all of my projects updated and edited in time for portfolio review the week after next for school, I'll try to post this weekend, just bear with me for a little bit longer, and you'll be pleasently surprised.

Hickey

I'm giggling as I write this. But I'm still a little high from my weekend, I played, I played more than I had sex, and I really don't mind that. But I'll write about that later. I keep giggling because I'm remembering Luke. Luke was my gay-husband in high school. He would play the piano, and I would sing. Show tunes, jazz, opera, whatever. His mother loved me, and I loved her. I also loved their fridge, they were a Jewish family and kept Kosher. I got very good at not only keeping Kosher when I was at their house, I managed to clear out their fridge in the course of an afternoon, and managed to keep true to Kosher law. Luke and I divorced at the beginning of my junior year of high school, but when we were together, it was magic.

He also gave me my first hickey. I will never forget this. You see, the boy LOVED to pluck my eye brows, and I let him, even though it hurt like a bitch. Well, after one such afternoon lying on his bed while he pulled hairs out of me, he managed to extricate the little tidbit that my 15 year old self had never had a hickey (what a hysterical word, it's such a high school thing to get in my mind, a hickey, I haven't had one since high school, come to think of it).

"Oh my goodness," he had gushed, "I'm giving you your first hickey!" "Ooookaaaay," I said slowly. He pushed me onto my side and pulled my hair back away from my throat. He clamped onto me like a sucker fish that latches onto sharks for the long-trip ahead. Damn, that felt good, with his teeth and his tongue on my sensitive flesh, the then unfamiliar heat spread over my thighs. When he lifted his head, I was gasping, my face flushed.

"Wow," he said afterwards. "I didn't like that, you make weird noises when you get turned on, and I don't like your smell." "Thanks Luke, you really know how to make a girl feel good about herself," I said glumly. So I don't want to start anything, but boys, please take note, compliment a girl on how pretty she is, and tell her she smells pretty, like lilacs or rain. We appreciate it. And if you play your cards right, you'll appreciate the effort you put into it too.

Floating World

I will be at Floating World this weekend, going to classes and having all sorts of fun. I am even helping out Jefferson with his g-spot class. Otherwise I'm just gonna go have fun and see where the weekend takes me.

Observation

My friend Aimee's husband calls her, and all of her female friends (myself included), a clam. As in bearded clam. She yells at him whenever he does this.

I spent the evening with her and her husband and he proceeded to call us this with no reservations whatsoever. The next morning I got out of the shower, and looked down at my freshly shaved pussy, and in my tired state, I thought to myself: 'wow, it really does look like a clam.'

For Reals

I'm just going to start at the beginning, for lack of a better place to start. 

I got to there around 1 in the afternoon, I fixed lunch for Jefferson and Anna, and we settled in to talk, we fooled around for a little bit before the 2PM guest was due to arrive.

Now, here's the thing about Mr. 2PM, he's a virgin, or at least he was when he got to the apartment. He had never seen a woman naked before in reality, never had a blow job, nada. I will call him For Reals. Because he kept saying it, over and over again. It became the joke of the day, even people who weren't there thought it was hysterical.

Anna Smash, the woman visiting Jefferson for a few days, and I were lying naked on his bed. Jefferson had just gone to answer the door. She and I reached for each other and began kissing. We broke our kiss as our 2 o'clock came in the door and stopped in his tracks, staring at us. He kept saying 'Whoa, oh god, for reals?' Over and over, like a mantra. Jefferson invited him to sit down, and told him to do whatever he was comfortable doing. For Reals began undressing, down to his socks.

Jefferson kissed me, putting his hand between my legs, Anna took one of my breasts in her mouth, I was very into the attention I was receiving. At one point Jefferson broke our kiss and kissed Anna, I looked over at For Reals, sitting naked in the chair, watching all of this."Room for one more," I said, smiling docily. He came over, and Anna settled him in between her legs. Jefferson settled between mine. I came loud and hard, roaring with a ferocity I had never known was in me. For Reals sat back, and looked at Jefferson. "You da man," he said to him as I twitched with the aftershocks of my orgasm.

Jefferson switched over to Anna, and I beckoned For Reals over. "Should I strap up now?" He asked eagerly, and I shook my head, telling him to relax. I took him in my mouth, he was large, we later learned that he was afraid that he would be inadequate, only ever having had porn to compare to. I knew that I couldn't take all of him in, but I could give him a decent run never the less. "Oh god, whoa, yeah, oh god," he murmured. I thought it was sweet. He put a hand between my legs, commenting on how wet I was. From anyone else I would have thought it as just a one of those sexual things people say, from him, I knew he said it was out of awe and wonder.

I settled his face in between my legs, guiding him in the difficult rhythms of my body. I didn't come, but that was alright, that wasn't why I was there. I told him I had to use the loo, and told him to get a condom. I slipped out of the room.

Apparently while I was gone Jefferson handed him a 'trojan magnum' condom. "Here, you look like you could fit one of these," he had said. I heard laughter, and I came back in, watching For Reals figuring out how to put on his first condom. I asked him to take off his socks and lie down, and to try and relax. I went to work, settling into a calm supporting state. But a bit into it, something shifted on me, and I felt the after effects of my fisting from the night before. I had to stop, and this is where he climbed on Anna, and Jefferson climbed on me.

Eventually he and I stopped, I settled into the chair with a glass of water while Jefferson took photos and videos of them fucking. For Reals was unsteady at first, unsure of himself. I told him to listen to his body's rythms, that they would guide him. Sure enough, he found it, and they went at it for a good long time. None of us have any idea how many times Anna came.

Throughout all of this, For Reals was sweating like a pig in hog heaven. We had to strip the bed and dry out the mattress before putting fresh sheets on. When we had finished and poor Anna was broken, we laid around and talked. After a while, he left. The three of us showered and vegged out for a while, and then eventually Jefferson laid Anna on top of me, and began fucking her. After a while; we got flogged.

Then we moved into the living room, and eventually Alma showed up. We all talked and goofed off. Then another very gorgeous person showed up, and I will call him Toby. I had eyed Toby at my first orgy at Jefferson's, but we had never connected. Tonight, we connected, we joked together. We made out and fondled eachother. Then we set the trend, and he picked me up and carried me into Jefferson's bedroom. He laid me down on the bed, and we rolled on a condom, and fucked. It was nice, Toby was very good at what he was doing.

Then we took a break, and Alma, intent on learning about women, had a go at my lady parts, and later on I had a go at hers, with an ice cube.

Later on another person who I had eyed at a previous party showed up. It took a while for things to get going between us, and when they did, we had 20 minutes to go before I had to leave. Well, we went, and it was awesome, he fucked me just the way I like to be fucked.

Memorial Day

Her name was Anna. She's a cute brunette, also a sex blogger, in town visiting Jefferson. She and I took a bath together, and I washed her. Then we had sex.

At one point I had several fingers in her, and I was rubbing her clit. Before I knew what was going on, four of my fingers were in past the knuckle, and she didn't seem to be having any problem with it. Jefferson supplied the lube and rubbed it on my hand, then I brought my thumb in and carefully wrapped my fingers down into a fist, worrying about her cervix as my nails scraped her insides. But eventually, I managed to get my entire fist into her.

I had never fisted anyone before, she had never been fisted successfully before. Two cherries popped.

After she came we all jokingly compared hand sizes, and I suggested to her that she have a go at me. This proved harder for me, as fisting always has. I was fine and dandy in the beginning, I laughed and joked. But this did not last for long.

As Anna got more and more of her hand inside of me, my breathing became labored. I stopped breathing a few times, and Jefferson had to remind me to breath, he coached me, encouraging me to inhale and exhale. Periodically he would check and see how much we had in. Finally, when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, we had almost her entire hand up inside of me, down to the part where the hand narrows into the wrist. She slowly pulled out, and we looked at her hand, and I lay there for a long moment, unable to move.

I had trouble walking to the bathroom afterwards, but I managed, and feeling more than a little tender, crawled back onto Jefferson's bed, and he and I fucked for a bit before I had to leave to go home.

Memorial day had never been more memorable.

Lost in thought

In those quiet moments, perhaps when I'm sitting on the bus, or waiting for others to finish a test in one of my classes, my mind begins to wander. I think about hands, grabbing my hair and wrenching my head back. The other hand reaching up to pinch a nipple, already painful in it's erection. And a voice, rasping in my ear, ordering me to strip. Slowly I undress, unsteady on my feet, and the minute I step out of my pants, and my breasts are hanging free against my chest, this strange, unknown dark-haired man whose haunted my fantasies since I was 15 is pressing down against me. Slamming his hands into my chest and then his hands trail down and grab my breasts, pulling me to the floor.

He kisses me deeply. I no longer try see his face, it never does any good. His hand trails down to my pussy, rubbing against my clit before moving on to pull at my labia and press his fingers savagely inside of me. And then he throws me onto my hands and knees and presses down into me with his cock, furiously thrusting as he pulls my head back and begins whispering in my ear. My skin flushes, as he makes me call out obscene things. My cervix tightens desperately against him as he does this, and I hate him for making me be anything less than dignified.

And then I'll start and break out of my fantasy, and I'll be aware that I have to get off the bus in two stops, or that my teacher has resumed the class, and I'll hurry home or to the bathroom to seek my own release.

---I'll post something real soon, I promise.

Asses etc.

Simon, my then boyfriend, had wanted to do me in the ass for long time. It was an act that I had resisted for a long time after a bad experience some time previous. It was, and remains, one of the few sexual acts that I have conflict with.

Simon did his best to comfort me, and eventually I consented to the act, but on one condition: What he got to do to me, I got to do to him. And that I got to go first.

We planned for this to happen one weekend in August, when he and I, and a bunch of other people we knew were driving down to Washington DC for the weekend for a TNG (a leather group for younger people in the scene) event at a leather club down there, hosted by their own TNG group.

We drove down in a car with two other people, among them my friend Cora, along the way she and I flashed truck drivers, pressing our breasts up against the cool glass and getting them to blow their horns.

The hours leading up to our plan were fairly tame, Cora and I did a fight scene which didn't really go anywhere, and eventually Simon and I found our way back to another. "I want to fist you," he said bluntly. I nodded consent and followed him passively upstairs to a quiet corner where I laid back in a sling, and put my feet up on the chains.

He slowly began pressing fingers into me, gently but firmly rocking his hand against my cunt. He got four fingers in, and when he went to press his thumb into my cervix, I gasped in pain and screwed my eyes shut. He pulled back, and took his time. His thumb found it's way to my clit, and he began rubbing his fingers against me. I jolted with the pleasure and pressed myself down against him.

"I'm going to come," I gasped, and then I threw my head back, and I screamed, loud and long. I could hear my voice echoing throughout the warehouse as I pressed and arched and rode out the waves until I laid in the sling, stupid with pleasure.

Simon withdrew his hand and rolled on a condom, and pressed down into me, seeking his own pleasure which came a few minutes later. He pulled out and pulled off the condom and came on my belly. After a while we cleaned up and sheepishly walked towards the stairs. When we entered the main room, Cora, in her infinite energy burst into applause and I smiled ruefully. 

We ate dinner and it became closer to Simon's moment. Another friend of ours loaned us her strap-on (similar to the one I would buy later on, after Simon and I parted ways), and she settled me into the harness, and Simon and I found a comfortable spot. I rolled a latex glove onto my right hand, since I didn't want to hurt him with my fingernails.

I began rocking into his ass the same way he had tried to work his way into my pussy several hours earlier, finally when he was ready, I pressed down into his ass and began rocking back and forth. I gasped, my thighs warmed and heat flooded my face. It was amaaaazing! I had never felt anything like it, and I pressed down into his ass, as intent on my own pleasure as I was on his. I can only imagine how much better it is with a bio-cock. I did not want this to stop, and I moaned as I sawed into him. I was vaguely aware of people murmuring about this, and I would later be approached to be told how hot it was to watch what we were doing. I was lost in the sensations, the both of us moaning. Simon's head hung down against his chest, and my head was thrown back, lips parted and eyes closed.

After a long while, Simon called it quits, and I pulled out of his ass. Neither of us came, but doing this had left me feeling fortified; I no longer had to be on the receiving end when it came to cock. Now I had choices.

Starting fresh

How do I begin this? I've never done anything like this before, write about my sex life? Never had I dreamed of doing anything like this in such a public forum. But here I am. Doing things I never dreamed of.

After getting out of a difficult relationship, I decided to take time off from dating. I knew that I didn't want a relationship, but I didn't want to be celibate either. So one night I plucked up the courage to write the author of a blog that I had been reading for several months. This is what I wrote:

I’m sure you get this a lot, and I suppose this is kinda coming out of left field, but you only live once, right? I came across your blog a couple of months ago, and I noticed a trend: You have hot sex. And I would like to have hot sex, for once. I’m in the city on an almost daily basis, so if you are interested, drop me a line.

Take care,

Eden

Jefferson and I exchanged e-mails over the course of a week, he requested photos and asked about fantasies I had, and I responded in kind.

The day came for me to go and meet him. I took care in dressing myself, not sure what one wore to something like this. When I got to his building, I rode the elevator up to his floor, and after a few moments, found his apartment. I stood there, terrified, my hand literally frozen in the air. I almost turned around and walked away. But I didn't, I gathered what little courage I could muster, and knocked on the door. I heard sounds behind the door, and after a moment, the deadbolt slid back and the door was opened to reveal a blonde man a few inches taller than myself. I was drawn inside, he took my bag and sweatshirt, and drew me into a kiss. He slowly undressed me, drawing off my shirt and bra, pulling off my pants and panties until I stood there nude.

He continued kissing me, running his hands over my breasts, and down my belly, slipping between my thighs. I hadn't realized how much I wanted this until I felt my own heat and moisture against his fingers; I was soaking wet. Completely and utterly drenched.

"Get on your knees," he said. "I want you to suck my dick."

I sank to my knees, and settled myself on the cool wood floor. He pulled it out of his pants, and I gazed at him for a moment. "Are you clean?" I asked tentatively. "Yes, I am," he said. And I set to work.

I was nervous, but I am also a Jersey girl, and we have a tradition to uphold. I took as much of him in my mouth as I could, and lapped at him with the tip and flat of my tongue, moving my head back and forth. After a while, he pulled me off of him and took my hair in his hand. I dropped to my hands and knees and let him lead me back through his apartment to his bedroom. I got the impression of a brightly colored rug before I was brought to kneel in front of a chair. I heard him undress behind me, and then saw him settle nude into the chair in front of me. I resumed my ministrations. I was lost in the silence of his apartment, I had no sense of time or the world around me.

After a while, he told me to get up on his bed, and I obeyed, laying back among the pillows. "I never cum from this," I told him. "Doesn't matter, I just want your taste," he replied. He settled between my thighs, tonguing my clit. I forced myself to relax as I began to chase my orgasm. I shuddered as I came, rolling my hips as ectasy swept over me.

"No one's ever done that before," I said, suddenly feeling less nervous.

"Well I'm pleased to join such select company," he said, coming up to kneel in front of me. He took a condom out of a drawer, and rolled it on, and pressed himself down inside of me.

"You have a remarkably tight pussy Eden," he said.

"So I've been told," I replied quietly. We fucked for a long time, we were both quiet. Then he leaned back and slapped me, shocked by the blow, I tried to pull away. After a moment, he slapped me again, and I repeated my actions. "Eden, stop that!" He ordered. "You could hurt yourself." Then he slapped me again, and I stayed still, though my nostrils flared.

"You're a bit of a brat, aren't you?" He asked me.

"So I've been told," I replied through clenched teeth.

"Shhh, no more slaps, we'll just fuck for now," he said softly, kissing me.

We continued to fuck until he came. I smiled into his shoulder; I am always pleased when the people I bed cum.

Afterwards, we laid there, talking for a bit, and began fucking again after a little while. He caned me for a bit, and then sent me off to shower.

I left his apartment that afternoon with marks on my backside and an invitation to return soon. It was awesome, and marked the beginning of a very new and interesting path for me.

Since meeting Jefferson, I've met a number of wonderful and interesting people, some of whom I've slept with, some of whom I've played with, and some of whom I've only spoken with. But all-in-all, it's been awesome.

This journal chronicles my new path for myself, wherever it may take me.