Pumpkin

The world was silent.

It was as though the City had gone to sleep, and the only ones awake in the night were Adit and myself. I laid in his bed, which seemed impossibly high up off the ground. My nerves sang in a chorus as tension rippled through my body.

Our conversations and desires had brought us to this night, to the decision to do this with each other. Our leanings towards giving our friendship a twist, but staying friends all the same, something we both felt was important. And then, after a couple weeks of talking and texting, I found myself back in his bed. Still a friend and an equal, somewhere in that time, I had become the little girl to his daddy.

So there I laid in his bed, nervous and scared, the darkness was almost oppressive, like it was keeping it's own council on what it was about to lay witness to. Adit caressed my face and shoulder and breasts, laying himself down next to me and wrapping one arm around me. "Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy?" He asked. "Because I want to play a special game with you, but remember, this is a secret, you can never tell anyone that we're playing this game. Do you understand?" I nodded mutely in the dark as he slipped his hand down into the silky folds between my thighs and began kneading my clit.

The tension mounted in my chest before it began to break up inside of me like waves on a beach. I buried my face against his chest. "Now Pumpkin," he said. "I want you to touch your special place, show Daddy what you like." I tentatively reached my hand down and grazed my fingertips against my clit. "There's a good girl," he said softly in the dark before his hand replaced my own.

He began rubbing his fingers against my clit, making me gasp and moan. "Daddy," I said softly. "It feels funny." "I know it does, it's supposed to, and if you do this enough, it will feel good all over, don't you want that sweety?" He asked. "Yes Daddy," I said softly. His fingers flicked over my clit, drawing me closer and closer to the edge. "Oh, oh Daddy," I breathed softly into his chest. "Yes, come for me, come for your Daddy little girl," he breathed into my hair.

As the tension rose within me, something in me began to give way, and I slipped into Little space. I came, gasping and moaning against his hand, holding him against my sex as my hips bucked against his hand. When I finished, Adit stroked my hair and told me what a good girl I was before climbing up to kneel between my thighs. I watched him roll on a condom in the dark, while he spoke. "Now it's time for Daddy to feel good, don't you want that? For Daddy to feel good?" "Yes Daddy," I said softly. He pressed up inside of me and began thrusting into me. "Now remember, you can never tell anyone that you play these special games with Daddy, do you understand?" He asked in the darkness. A ball of wariness had settled into my stomach. "Yes Daddy," I said softly. "Such a good little girl," he breathed as he began to move faster. After a few moments of silence, he came long and hard.

He pulled out and laid down next to me. "Daddy, do other daddies play these games with their little girls?" I had asked, gazing up at the dark ceiling. "Some daddies play these games with their little girls, but only because they are special, and you must never tell anyone that we play these games because some little girls don't play these games with their daddies, and you don't want them to be sad, do you?" Adit had asked me. "No Daddy, I don't want that," I said softly.

After a few moments, I lifted my head and looked over at him. "Adit, is there something wrong with us for doing this?" I asked seriously. "No Eden, there isn't. I've spent alot of time studying sexuality, and what we did is good and beautiful. We're both consenting adults, neither of us have any interest in doing anything like that with a family member, especially an actual child. That's disgusting. This is role playing, it's different, it's okay to do this because it's not real, do you understand?" I nodded quietly, then realized he couldn't see me. "I'm nodding," I told him.

The next day I kissed Adit, and left for the City where I met up with Terra. I told her what had happened the previous night, and as I did, I began freaking out. "How did you handle this?!" I had asked desperately.

"Oh I spent a good weekend just lying in Conor's bed, I didn't really eat, just laid there. He took it just as hard as I did, he did it for me, not realizing that he would actually like it," she explained. "You're only in part 1 of your freak out though, and you'll feel like this for a good long time. And then it will come easily to you, and that will fuck with you also." "You mean there's more?" I moaned, munching on my chicken. "Yup. Pretty soon you'll be calling him 'daddy' in public without a second thought. 'Candy Land' will never be the same again. And if he's anything like my daddy, he'll make you show where you like to be touched on your teddy bear," she said matter-of-factly. "But I've had my teddy bear since I was a babe-in-arms, I can't do that!" I squealed. "I had mine since I was 4, and I did it," she said. "He's even saying that I'm gonna have to wear white underwear for him at some point, I can't do that," I said indignantly. "Next thing you know I'm gonna be wearing ruffled socks and licking one of those huge lolli-pops. This is too surreal Terra, I can't be doing this. And what makes it worse is that I liked it. I really liked it."

"You've been talking about this for a year and a half, and you finally got what you wanted. You know you're gonna do it again, don't you?" She had asked. "Yeah, I know I'm gonna do it again. And what's really gonna mess with me is that I'm gonna keep on liking it. And then the day will come when I'll be used to it. And that, well, I'll deal with that when the time comes. One step at a time, right?"

I continued to freak out over the next couple days, hiding in my nest and watching horror movies to distract me from dealing with the emotions churning inside of me until I found myself asking myself what was wrong with me. Why did I want this, why did I like it. I pushed my back up against the wall, murmuring 'no no no' over and over again. Feeling scared and alone, I texted Adit who called me several minutes later. I was upset and began yelling at him for being so calm in the face of this. I was angry that he seemed oblivious as to why I was upset. The poor dear deserves better than me sometimes, but most of the time I'm pretty good. He asked me calmly not to yell at him, and to explain to him what was wrong.

"We're role-playing incest!" I had wailed. "Incest is wrong and dirty and disgusting, what is wrong with me?! I shouldn't like this, I can't like this, I'm not a sick person! I'm sane and healthy, I'm not like those disgusting perverts who hang out in play grounds watching children! I have normal healthy desires, what is wrong with me?!" "Nothing is wrong, it's role playing, those are the key words, it's not real. Do you really think that I would be interested in my daughter? Or any child or family member for that matter?" Adit asked, his logical tone cutting into my panic. "No, of course not," I said crossly. "And I don't think you're interested in doing these things with any one in your family either," he said. "No, I'm not," I said quietly. "We aren't sick people, we are sane and healthy consenting adults role playing this. But it doesn't make us worser people for doing it, and if it really bothers you then we can stop, and we never have to do it again. I know you're frightened by this, it's okay to be, but there's nothing wrong with us for doing this, alright?" He asked. "I just feel awful, because I want to do this again, like, I really want to do this again, but I feel like there's something wrong with me. And I'm having a really hard time owning that," I said, my voice sounded strung out to me from all the anxiety. "There's nothing wrong with you Eden, it's okay to want this. You're safe with me, I'm not gonna let you fall, it's okay," he said. He joked with me a little bit, and I laughed, and we got off the phone a few minutes later with his insistences that I call him no matter what if I had any further problems.

I felt a little better after the phone call, but my emotions still sat in the pit of my stomach, and I worried and wondered about what my next step would be. I'm still not sure what that step is, but I do know I'm seeing Adit soon. I'm wearing my overalls and a t-shirt. I'm learning how to own my new found fetish, it's not easy. It's really fucking hard, actually. But in it's own strange way, it works for me.

The Precious

At 4 in the morning, I decided to call it a night. My friend Brian's play party had melted into debates about the existence of instinct from a biological perspective. Which is a really intense conversation to have at 4 in the morning. Marilyn and I climbed into Brian's bed, and curled in on him, wrapping our bodies to his own. Marilyn looked across at me in the dark, and I looked back at her as she began to lick at Brian's nipples, and I followed suit. His moans filled the room as my hand trailed down his chest and pushed aside the waistband on his underwear.

I gripped his cock in my hand and began stroking him, his moans intensifying. I began shedding clothes at some point, my hoodie followed by my shirt until I finally threw off my pants. Brian removed his underwear and my head dissapeared under the covers while he and Marilyn kissed. I licked and sucked at his hard cock while rocking my hand against his perineum. Marilyn joined me a moment later and took over. I came up for air and once again took up my post at his nipples, kissing him intermittently.

We each took our turn in the middle, and when I found myself in the hot seat, Brian and Marilyn went to work on my nipples while Brian fingered my clit, making me gasp and moan. I brought my hands up to grip the headboard as I came.

Marylin took her place in the middle, and Brian got her off while I nibbled on her nipples. Then we pushed Brian onto his back, and Marilyn settled between his thighs while I settled myself over his face. We struggled to sync ourselves up, and when we slid into that sweet spot, I sighed with contentment, Brian moaning and licking beneath me.

"Do we have a condom?" Someone asked. "Shit, I'm out," Brian said in the dark. "I didn't think I'd be getting laid tonight, so I didn't think to get more. Ummm, someone go find one." "I'll go and find one, and by that I mean I'll go look in my bag," Marilyn said, pulling on her skirt and rushing out of the room. Brian and I sat in silence for a few minutes and Marilyn came back in. "I don't have any, should I go ask if someone has one?" She asked. "Yeah, go ask," Brian said, and she left the room again. After a few more minutes she came back in. "I got one, but it's a magnum," she said. "Doesn't matter," I said intensely, aware of the stupidity of my logic as I said it. "It's a condom, we can make it work, we're kinky, we make things work all the time."

"Brian, I don't want to get fucked tonight, you can fuck Eden," Marilyn said. "Then can I go down on you while I'm getting fucked? I haven't had pussy since my birthday, and that was in July." "But I've never done that with a girl, besides, I don't see how it would work," she said. "It's just like with a guy, except I'm a girl. And if you lie on your back in front of me, I can go down on you while Brian fucks me from behind, mmkay?" I said, getting up on all fours. "Oh, okay," she said, settling herself in front of me as Brian rolled on our one precious condom.

I buried my face between her thighs and began licking and sucking while Brian fucked me from behind, slapping my ass and riding my hips. Eventually Marilyn decided she had had enough, and I rolled onto my back while Brian continued fucking me. I gasped and moaned as he fucked me, my muscles contracting around his cock as he thrust up into me. Brian came a few moments later, and collapsed onto the bed next to us.

Eventually we fell asleep in a piled up heap, and slept well into the next morning. It was a lovely party, to say the least.

Mac & Cheese

It's raining. The rain makes me hornier than a goat. I feel like baaah-ing.

In lieu of smut, I'm going to share a recipe with you that I took from Fanny Farmer, and modified it. Because food and sex are very closely linked with me, and I'm not quite prepared to give away my modified version of chicken marsala, my primo recipe. So anyway, you can put in any kind of cheese and veggies you like, but I'm a pretty straight forward kind of person, and I will give you the foundation here that I work off of, depending on my mood or who I'm cooking for.

Mac & Cheese - serves 4:

9 ounces of macaroni

3/4 cup grated cheese

1/2 cup Italian flavored bread crumbs

2 cups cheese sauce (below)

The Sauce (Makes 2 cups):

2 cups of milk

4 tablespoons of flour

4 tablespoons of butter

salt and pepper

And about 1/2 a block of cheddar cheese. Miss Farmer reccomends 1/2 cup, but it's very bland in my opinion, so I tend to get a little happy with the cheese grater. I'm sure you can over do it on the cheese, but I've yet to reach that point. Lately I've been putting in up to 3/4s of a block, but I wouldn't do anymore than that.

I generally tend to put in enough to make the sauce a nice orange. Like Garfield, a nice Garfield orange. Okay, maybe a little lighter than Garfield, because more cheese gets added later.

Making the sauce: Melt the butter in a sauce pan and add in the flour, when the butter has melted add the milk and stir it constantly while it thickens. Add the cheese. Stir this until the cheese melts and it's to your liking. Add salt and pepper to taste. It's important to keep an eye on the sauce because you don't want the milk or butter to burn.

I like to start the pasta while I'm making the sauce to make things more time efficient. So boil the pasta however long the box says, I think it's about ten minutes, and then drain it and put it into a 1 1/2 quart buttered casserole dish. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

Pour the sauce over the top and work it in with a fork or a spoon. Put more grated cheese on top of this, I'm usually pretty generous with my cheese usage, but it's pretty hard to screw up mac and cheese, so do what feels right to you. Then add about 1/2 cup of bread crumbs on top. I like to use the Italian flavored ones, gives it a nice zing.

Bake uncovered for 30 minutes until the top is a nice golden brown and it's bubbling. Let it cool and then you're good to go.

Unscripted

Jefferson had his cock firmly seated in my ass while he nibbled on my toes. I had one arm wrapped around my thigh and I worked my clit while Jefferson pressed one hand into my pussy, pressing up against my g-spot. For all that I was bent backwards like a pretzel and he was practically on tip-toes as he fucked my ass, it felt amazing. After a few more minutes of futile efforts, I gave up on the idea of coming and gazed up at Jefferson.

"Do you have a foot fetish?" I asked. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that," he said, sucking on one of my toes. "When did you pick it up?" I asked innocently, a smile playing around my lips. "I'm not really sure," he said as I wrapped my feet around his face and drew them down to press against his nipples. "I love using my feet when I have sex," I thought about this for a moment. "Usually it's because my arms are tied down. But I've found that they add a nice dimension." I offered him my big toe, and ignored the pain that registered in the nerve damaged part of my foot, turned on by his attention to my feet. Never before had my own foot fetish extended to include my own feet. I could feel the walls of my vagina grow hot and my eyes closed.

"I think it's hot that you have a foot fetish," I said, smiling as I opened my eyes. "I think it's hot that you think it's hot," he said. I love indulging myself and my friends in our shared fetishes, and goodness knows I love me some cute feet. After a while my hips began to hurt and I asked if we could take a break.

Jefferson settled his face between my thighs, his tongue played over my clit, teasing my sweet spot. When I came, I held his face to the junction between my thighs, groaning and riding his face.

He pushed me onto my back and straddled my chest, pressing his cock down into my mouth. He fucked my face while I ran my hands up and down his back. He pulled out and began jerking off. I laid underneath him, oblivious as ever. After a couple minutes it dawned on me what he was planning on doing.

"Don't even think about coming on my face," I said. He gasped and looked down at me, "What? This isn't the time to talk to me." "I said don't even think about coming on my face," I repeated. "Oh," he said. And before either of us could move, he shot his load all over one side of my face and into my hair (on my way to the elevator after I left, I got out my phone to check my messages when I discovered that a few drops had landed on my phone as well).

We sat there in shock for a moment before throwing our heads back and laughing long and hard. After a few minutes of flat out hysterics we bundled off to the shower where I washed my hair and body. When I finished washing up I turned to him. "Did you plan for that to happen?" I asked. "Now honey, you know as well as I do that you can't script comedy like that," he said with a grin.

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It's a new lay-out, figured it was time for something a little more special. I'm still trying to decide if I like the colors, but I love the image I created. Soo yeah, enjoy!

Shame

One of the last times I had sex with Simon was in the basement of his ex-girlfriends house. We were all going to some event the following day together, and her family put us together in their very livable basement.

This was during a time when I didn't want to see my body, I was ashamed of it; detested it. I've told this story before; I showered in the dark, wore conservative clothing, and avoided letting people see me naked or partially clothed. By this point I had stopped masturbating, I had gotten some kind of block that stopped me from having orgasms, and whenever I tried I ended up crying in frustration at my bodies refusal to do what it had once done so well and so easily.

I had gone behind a partition that they had to put on my pajamas when Simon came around the corner, he came over and put his hands on my hips, and said something to me, running his hands up under my belly, I pulled away before his fingertips touched my breasts, and he turned away. Muttering about how he didn't need this. I pulled my shirt on over my head, breathing deeply, I tried to pull myself together.

I walked around the partition into the main area where the sofa bed was set up for us. I settled onto the far corner, trying to take up as little room as possible. Desperately trying to avoid contact with him.

"Come here," Simon said, his voice sounded dead. I got up and shyly approached him, I felt skittish on my feet. I knelt on the carpeted floor outside of arms length in front of him. "What are you doing?" He asked. "This isn't like you Eden, I've never met anyone before who was so strong, so liberated in everything like you are. You used to laugh so easily, get excited by all the little things that made you so happy. But I don't see any of that anymore, all I see is someone timid and afraid."

While he spoke, all I could do was think about the day that this had all started, about how desperately I wished I could have gone back and relived that day.

My breath was frozen in my chest, and my hands were clenched tight into the fabric of my pajama bottoms. "Maybe I'm just afraid, can't I be afraid?" I had asked, my voice small and tight. In that moment I wished I had wings, that they would just break out of my back and allow me to fly away into the night.

"I don't know who did this to you, but whoever it was, they don't know you. Don't let some stranger damage your ability to let your light shine," he said. He sank to his knees in front of me and slowly drew my shirt off over my head. My face was turned to the side, with my chin resting against my shoulder. He ran his fingertips up my bare arm and across my shoulder. His hand traced my clavicle and let it run down to my breasts, pressing my nipple together between his thumb and forefinger, it turned me on and made me feel ashamed at the same time. He kissed me gently and tugged me towards the bed, I climbed under the blankets, putting my shirt on the arm of the couch next to me.

He turned off the lights and put on a movie. He climbed into the bed next to me, and I mentally pulled away, desperately trying to protect myself. I remember thinking that that would have been the perfect time to become a nun. Just to pack up my bags and ship on out to Tibet, devote my life to Buddha. He slipped his hand down past the waistband of my pants, his fingertips reaching for my clit. I gasped as he found it, and then I bit my lip; a ball of dread had settled into my stomach. I tried to find my happy place as Simon rolled the condom on and laid on top of me. I was keenly aware of his chest against my breasts, his penis against my labia as he pressed down inside of me.

I don't know why I let him do it, by that time it had been weeks since I had come, perhaps part of me wanted to know if I could even have sex at this point. I could feel my foot hurting, from far away, I had injured my foot a week earlier badly enough to need a cane to get around, and I was still healing. I could make small distances on my own, but anything farther and I needed help.

When Simon finished, I got up and took my cane. I leaned heavily on it as I walked to the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was reminded of the faery tale idea of the maiden, the mother, and the crone. I felt more like the crone than the maiden in that moment.

I started to cry, feeling like a lost little child. I cried as I sat down on the toilet to pee, I cleaned myself off and then dried my eyes and blew my nose and went back out into the main room. I pulled on my shirt in the dark, and got into bed. I laid there on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring into nothing until I finally fell asleep.

It would be a few more weeks before I began to have orgasms again, but they never came with the ease that they once did. Each one I had to work for, and in the beginning, I was reliant on other people, because I couldn't manage it on my own. It would be another three and a half months before I could do it on my own, and when I finally managed it, I wept.

Simply Marvelous

It's time to take a break from analyzing everything and write some smut! So, without further ado. . .

This was such a satisfying date, I'm trying to think of where to start.

Duh Eden. Start at the beginning. My idiocy astounds me sometimes.

I got to Jefferson's at about 3pm. Showed up at his door in my work clothes; I was fresh from my first day as an intern and was feeling particularly good about it as Jefferson undressed me, and then undressed himself. We wandered back into his bedroom where we fucked, and fucked and fucked. And then he went down on me.

Going down on me is significant because before I met Jefferson, no one ever bothered to do it with the intent of getting me off, with one exception that I generally try to forget about. So he's going down on me, and I'm slowly creeping towards my orgasm, and then he goes and changes tactics on me. And I made this noise, words like 'grunt' and 'moan' don't seem to define the sound that I made. I made a sound that came from our tree dwelling ancestors, and when I came, it was incredible.

Eventually we wandered off to poke around craigslist for something interesting, we spent the next couple hours wondering if anyone would respond to our ad while we poked fun at each other. I introduced him to the Ultimate Orgy of Ultimate Destiny (click on the armadillo), via the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny. He introduced me to the Museum of Creationism, where someone spent like 25 million dollars of their own money and put DINOSAURS in the Garden of Eden where they lived without incident with the other creatures and humans. Jefferson wondered what they did with dinosaurs, I suggested that they were used to plow fields, he thought Ben Hur would have been great if velociraptors had been attached to the chariots instead of horses. Personally I'm still trying to figure out how Eve managed to get tempted by the snake with a t-rex lumbering around.

When it became clear that nothing was going to formulate from our ad, I began to eye Jefferson's coffee table. "Can we fuck on your coffee table?" I had asked. I feel the need to explain to you that I have been wanting to fuck on his coffee table almost as long as I have known him. He said that if I cleaned it off, we could fuck on it. I set to my activity with a fervor, clearing off the surface while Jefferson got the condoms and lube. I laid back on the table and placed my calves on his shoulders, oh I'm forgetting one of the best parts! I went down on him, I'd been wanting to do that for a while now too. Then I tweaked one of his nipples in my teeth before lying back on the coffee table. He slipped inside of me, it felt good to have his cock pound my pussy while I was pushed back into the hard surface of the table. It creaked and groaned in protest to our actions. Then I turned around, got on my knees while he fucked me from behind. This was a good idea for about two minutes before I had to stop, the table just hurt my knees too much. We decided that it was a work in progress.

Eventually we wandered back to his bedroom where we watched a movie, I can't remember the name of it, ask Jefferson, and then we fell asleep.

The next morning we smiled and pulled each other close, kissing and fondling like a couple of teenagers. Jefferson got on top and once again my ankles where put up around his ears while he pressed down into me. And something happened, something amazing! I almost came from straight fucking. I know, I've said it before, but wow, I felt that orgasm and it was close, but then someone moved, maybe it was me, maybe it was him, and it went away. But let me tell you; it was incredible while it lasted.

And then he fucked me in the ass, and it was amazing. Now my ass is a delicate flower, and I have alot of trouble taking it up the ass, but this felt absolutely AMAZING. If Jefferson had been the one to take my ass virginity, I so totally would have volunteered to be the spokes model for the month of ass virgins back in November. It's been days and I'm still thinking about it.

Then we went and got cleaned up and he went down on me and I came again, and it was all kinds of fabulous. In time I packed my things together and headed for the subway, on my way to pick up the Thai food I ordered and catch my bus home to Jersey. All the while floating in the dream space of the newly discovered possibilities that my body decided to offer me.

Impact

I was in a book store recently, browsing the shelves before I had to saunter off to work a few blocks away. I wandered in between the aisles, through the bargain books, on into fiction, down through biology and up into history. Eventually I found myself in the section on sexuality. My eyes skimmed over the titles, I wasn't terribly interested in the books. Mostly revised versions of the 'Kama Sutra', and other books on positions. I've given up on elaborate positions, getting off is already hard enough with having to worry about my aching knees or the muscles burning in my back from the strain.

My eye was caught by a book, and I picked it up, and read the back of it. 'Working Sex: Sex Workers Write About a Changing Industry', was the title. And as I began to read it, I fell inside of it. Because it was exactly what I had been looking for for the longest time. Now, I'm not a sex worker, I can't offer you views on that because I have no experience in that arena, but what struck me about this book was the actual stories, not the money that exchanged hands, but the men and women who had these experiences. I feel like we never hear from sex workers because they get pushed down so often, but I think that their voices need to be heard.

I often think of one of Eve Ensler's monologues from 'The Vagina Monologues' titled 'I was twelve. My mother slapped me,' when I think of sex. Because in her intro she says that when she interviewed women about their periods, their stories began to show similarities and patterns in their experiences.

I believe that the same thing applies to sex.

I believe this because when we start to tell our stories, similarities begin to shine through. Love, hate, need, passion, fear, desperation, happiness, joy, elation, fun, healing, and so much more. When we begin to talk about our experiences, we weave together a cloth full of stories that have many different feelings and meanings attached to them.

When I began blogging, I wanted to write about my stories and experiences, I had thoughts and opinions that I wanted to share with the world. But it was never really my intent to write erotica. I wanted to get past the smut, because I honestly believe that sex impacts our lives. I took a guy's virginity last year, how do you think that effected him? How did it effect me? I also fisted a girl for the first time, her first time getting successfully fisted, what about that?

After Jefferson got back from Camp last year, I showed up on his door step with my strap-on, and that night he straddled me, pressing my dildo up into his ass. And we cried and I held him and told him that I had him, that I would never let him fall, and he kept saying over and over again 'I know, I know' while we wept. I think about that sometimes, about the fact that the night that we did that, I did not get turned on, not like I usually do. What transpired between us went so much deeper than sex. Lying there, staring up at him, I felt submissive in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. Deep down inside of my soul something vibrated, and it broke and reformed. Something inside of me had changed, had healed.

So I'm sure you can understand why it frustrates me when I hear people talking about how sex is evil and wrong. How can something be evil and wrong when it has effected so many lives so deeply, for better or for worse? I have friendships with people that I met at orgies, these are people that I talk about music and movies and relationships and everything else with. Back in March I e-mailed Jefferson about an afternoon of casual sex and we've been friends ever since. Sex brings people together, after all it takes two to tango, three can be company, and the more the merrier.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have nothing but respect for the people of this world who have chosen to be celibate for one reason or another. I was celibate for 13 months once, and I applaude the people who have done it successfully. But it's not for me, I can't imagine it's for most people. No, my issue lies with the people who try to erase their sex drives, and encourage other people to do the same, the people who tell boys their penis' will fall off if they masturbate, or the circumcision of girls in Africa, or the people who try to 'reprogram' gay men and lesbian women to fit into their concept of what people should really be, instead of what they actually are, which is human.

I feel like some people have lost sight of the bigger picture, so I'm writing this in attempt to make the bigger picture a little bit clearer. To try to erase some of the tarnish that sex has somehow accumulated over the years, and let's face it, those are some pretty substantial years. The people that I've talked to about sex have told me some of the most incredible stories, and I'm so pleased that they entrusted me to be one of the keepers of their tales. When they tell me these stories I hear wistful longing and unfinished business in their voices, I hear regret and pain, and joy, I hear people giggling like they were children again, on rare occasions I've witnessed tears, goodness knows I'm shedding them now, as I write this.

I will probably never understand why some people have such close minded views on sex. I can't help but wonder who hurt them so badly that they decided it was acceptable to destroy one of the pillars of healthy human development. I can only hope that they can find it in themselves to let go and try to heal, to try to see that they are safe and sound now.

Because in an era when we are confronted with AIDS and a host of other STDs, many treatable, others not, with teen pregnancies and botched abortions, where men, women, and children and members of the LGBT community face horrible indecencies, you'd think that more people would be willing to open their eyes and see the full magnitude of what is happening.

It seems like everyone is preaching abstinence, but human beings on a base physical level are wired to want to have sex; it's biological destiny. I would think that knowing what we know now, we would make more of an effort to inform people about birth control and the importance of using protection when having sexual relations. We need to stop trying to be perfect images of control, no man is a god, and no woman is a goddess, we are all human beings, no better and no worse than anyone else. Human beings cannot afford to let hubris win over common sense. The more people know about sex, the better off the whole human race will be.

I honestly don't know how to conclude this post, because if I'm not saying it, then somebody else is. There is no real way to end something like this, it will keep going on, long after I press the 'publish' button below my little window here. So I'm just going to leave it at that and hope that maybe some good will come of this.

Untitled

I got Jeffersons at about 9 in the morning, I walked there from the subway in a daze. By then I had already been in shock for two days, and several times I had stomp the desire to scream as I walked down the street. Just stop and scream until there was nothing left of me.

I had gotten to his place before he got back from dropping off his kids. I stripped down to my underwear, and went into the bathroom to tend to my ministrations. I came back into the living room, and settled on the couch, and began reading my book. Periodically I would lean my head back against the couch cushions. I couldn't breath, I couldn't think, I was just overwhelmed.

I was rocking back and forth trying to calm myself. When Jefferson opened the door, I stopped, desperately trying to hide my panic. "Hey, how are you doing?" He asked, closing the door behind him. "I'm good," I croaked. "How are you?"

"I'm alright, you don't look so good though, you sure you're okay?" He asked, taking off his shoes. "My ex is dead," I said bluntly. I've never been good at being subtle. "Oh my god," he snapped to attention, sweeping into the kitchen to deposit his coffee cup on the counter, and coming back into the living room, he placed his book on the table and took off his coat. He came over and settled down next to me on the couch. He wrapped his arms around me. I numbly relayed the information.

"I got a phone call from a friend of mine on Tuesday, she and I share him as an ex. Apparently his mother had e-mailed her, telling her that he had died in a boating accident. The boat had capsized and caught him underneath, and he drowned. They didn't find his body until the next day. This happened about a month ago." I snuggled closer to him, taking comfort in his presence. "This was the bad ex," I murmured into his neck.

"I feel horrible," I moaned. "I want so desperately to be able to say good things about him. I want to tell loving stories of tender moments. But I would be lying if I did that, and I don't lie. This man raped me, he took away my right to consent, to safe words, to respect. I want so badly to say good things about him, but I can't do that. And I feel horrible. A man is dead, and I have nothing good to say about him. And what's worse is that I'm relieved. I am relieved that this man will never be able to hurt anyone else again."

"You're not a horrible person. You're honest, if you said anything different it would be a lie. Sure things started out alright in the beginning, but that changed. It's okay to feel the way you are feeling. And you're right, he will never be able to hurt you or anyone else again. You shouldn't feel as if you have eulogize him, it's okay to feel what you are feeling," Jefferson soothed.

"I am a deeply religious woman," I went on. "And part of what I believe in is karmic debt. That we have to pay for our sins, not to the people that we hurt, but to the universe. That's why I never sought revenge, never tried to do anything about what he did. Because I believed that the universe would take care of me. I know that I'm not the only person that he hurt, that man had a consistent pattern of abuse. But death? Was his debt really that great? How many people did he owe? How many people weighted the scale? And why?"

We sat there in silence for a long time, snuggled up on the couch. I groped desperately for a topic. "I got an internship," I said with an abrupt change of subject. I could feel Jefferson attempting to make the same mental leap I had just made. "Yeah," I acknowledged his confusion. "I'm good at changing the topic." "That's great, where's it at?" He asked. I told him about it, and after a few minutes we lapsed back into silence.

"Am I a horrible person?" I asked quietly, tears choking me. "No baby, you're not a horrible person at all," he said softly.

We sat there in silence for a few more moments, and I leaned my head back to look at him. He kissed me gently on the mouth, our tongues exploring one anothers mouths. I tugged ineffectively at his shirt. "Let's level the playing field," I said, attempting to get back onto solid ground. He pulled me into the bedroom, stripping off his clothes before wrapping his arms around me while he kissed me. He fumbled with my bra and managed to get it off after a moment. He took a step back and bent over to examine my panties. "Well Hello Kitty," he said, commenting on my pink 'hello kitty' underwear before slipping them off onto the floor.

We cuddled under the blanket, holding each other tightly, murmuring to one another for a while. I slowly switched gears, pushing the conflicting emotions aside, and allowing myself to enjoy Jefferson's company and our morning together.

After a while Jefferson started to idlly play with one of my breasts. "You can be such a tease, you know that?" I muttered. "Yeah?" He breathed. "Tell me about that." His touches became feather light and I squirmed as his hand played over my breasts, looping around my nipples and travelling down to carress my inner thighs before settling to gently knead my clit with his fingertips. I gasped as he drew my arm up above my head, and caught my foot under his leg.

I gasped and moaned, working myself towards my orgasm. My breathing hitched and I came quietly, jerking a little against his hand. He started to massage my labia, pressing his hand up inside of me. He began rubbing his whole hand against my vagina, and I could feel his hand pressing up against the bone. It hurt, but it felt good too.

He pulled his hand out and grabbed my ankle and pulled it over so that he was positioned between my legs. He pulled out a condom and we fucked quietly for a while until he rolled off of me and cuddled up next to me. We napped, curled up against each other. I must have fallen asleep at some point, but not for long.

After a while I leaned down and took his cock in my mouth. I pressed my fingers into his perineum and he moaned. I leaned back. "I wanna finger your ass while I'm going down on you, is that alright?" I asked quietly. He nodded, and we put some lube on my hand and I wiped it over two of my fingers. I gently played with his ass, slipping one finger in, taking my time. Eventually I slid another finger into his ass. He was incredibly tight, and I couldn't move my fingers very easily, but I managed. I slurped his cock into my mouth and sucked on him, my other hand alternated between playing with his balls and perineum. "God this is hot," I said. "I am fucking you so hard when I'm done down here."

I moved my hand back and forth in his ass gently. I quietly monitered his face, checking in on him from time to time. Eventually he asked me to stop, and I pulled my hand out, but kept going down on him for a few minutes more.

Eventually I stopped and leaned forward, kissing him on the mouth. "You have that 'i wanna fuck' look on your face," he said. I smiled widely and leaned over to his nightstand. Taking out a condom, I put it on him and mounted him. Some didn't feel quite right with it, but I started moving anyway. After a few minutes, I realized what was wrong. "Say something," I breathed. He was silent for a few moments, and I wondered if he had heard me. "Talk to me, if you talk to me this will get a whole lot better for both of us," I explained quietly.

So he talked.

He began slowly, weaving a quiet tale. Driving out to the woods, going for a hike. Making me strip down naked and walk out ahead of him, barefoot. How he would beat me with his walking stick if I were to slow down. Periodically making me stop so that I would suck his cock while it was so deep in my throat I couldn't breath.

My cunt tightened like a vice and I had a lake between my thighs as I rode him. I fucked him deep and long and hard. I fucked him in a way I hadn't fucked anyone in a very long time, with my whole body. My breasts were pressed flat against his chest, and all I was aware of was his cock sheathed between my thighs, his stubble against my cheek, and the sound of his voice.

He told me how he would fuck me, while I laid in the dirt, until he came, and then he would pee on me and make me get up and keep walking. How when people came along he would make me hide in a sticker bush and wait until they were gone, to keep quiet about my cuts and stratches.

It went on and on and I did not want it to stop. I wanted more. Hell, I'm turned on just thinking about it. When I stopped, I rolled onto my back and he rolled on top of me, putting his cock in my pussy he began fucking me. We breathed heavily into eachothers necks while we fucked. Eventually he gasped out that he was going to come. "Okay baby, come," I murmured, and he quaked. After he came, I smiled and smoothed his hair.

We snuggled up afterwards. Holding each other close for a few minutes until we roused ourselves enough to for him to eat some lunch and for us to get dressed and head on out together; me off to my bus, him off to get his kids.

It was a good date, for reasons beyond the obvious. It was good because for the first time since I got the news about my ex, I was able to say what I needed to say. I had spent two days trying to find the words I needed, and I finally found them. Jefferson wasn't the first person to tell me what he did, but it was the first time I finally heard what was being said to me.

As for my ex, all I can say is that I loved him until I couldn't. I wish I could say more than that, but I can't. I hope I can be forgiven for that.

Pookie

Authors note: I am going to tell the events of Friday night as I remember them. All acts written here-in were completely consensual for both parties involved. This is tale of how I lost a cherry. Enjoy!

The orgy-goers and myself drove out to Brooklyn from Manhattan. I hung out with Jefferson, and periodically wandered off, fondling Wendy and some other friends that were there as well. I settled into a chair, and began talking with Boymeat and a friend of his, we laughed and joked until he declared that he was going to beat me.

We wandered into one of the back rooms, and I stripped off my clothes, we began making out, and he grabbed and pulled at my nipples. I moaned into his neck, pressing myself against him. He pushed me back onto the bed, murmuring to me before burying his face between my thighs. I gave myself up to it, moaning as his tongue washed my clit. He rose to his feet, and said something, I don't know what, all I knew was that I wanted to get into get into his pants. I buried my face in his crotch until he moaned. After a while he buttoned his pants, and we talked about what we wanted to do, and decided to go with the single tail.

We wandered around, looking for a space to do it in. We found ourselves in the main room, and up in one corner was a platform that you could climb up into. We climbed up, and I knelt on the couch while he began working over my back. I can't describe to you what a single tail feels like, I just can't, what I can tell you is that I liked it. I liked it alot. I did not always feel this way about single tails, I never knew until last night whether or not I liked them. Well, I certainly reached my conclusion, didn't I?

Boymeat was whipping my back and I panted and moaned and hugged the wall. He would stop periodically to check up on me, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back, murmuring into my ear. At some point my head snapped forward and I whacked my chin into the wall and we started laughing. At one such interlude he made me stand up with my back against the wall.

We started talking, I don't remember exactly how it came to this, but he said "I wanna cut you, but if I do that then I won't be able to use the whip again until I clean it. But who else am I going to single tail tonight?" "Oh, I'm not sure if I can do that," I said quietly. "Oh, I know you can do it," he said. "Turn around." So I turned around and he laid into my back. I gasped and cursed quietly, my nails dug into the wall until I felt him at my back. "Have you named the wall yet?" He had asked, toying with the hair at the nape of my neck. "Pookie," I breathed, and he started laughing.

Soon after we moved downstairs in search of a space where he could properly swing his whip in a way that he wanted. After some searching, we settled into a large hall, and I hugged the wall while the whip bit into my back. I cursed and gasped but took it. I don't know how much time passed before he came up behind me. "You're bleeding," he said, tapping his finger against my back and rubbing two of his fingers together. He counted the cuts. "You've got 6 cuts here," he said.

He led me back into the main sitting area and cuddled up with me on one of the sofas. I sat there, grinning widely and eventually I started laughing and slapping my thigh, everything seemed incredibly funny. "Do you want to thank me?" He asked, gazing steadily at me. I nodded mutely as he unbuttoned his pants. I buried my face back in his crotch for the second time that night.

Later on that night, when we arrived back at Jefferson's, Desire, Jefferson, and myself all went wearily into the building. When we got into his apartment, Jefferson tugged me into his bed; giving me a t-shirt to wear so that I wouldn't get blood on his sheets.

It took me a long time to find a position that I was comfortable enough to fall asleep in, but when I finally did fall asleep, I slept with a smile on my face.

Yeah, it was an awesome night.

The hitachi and the hair

Or: The fable Aesop forgot to mention.

I don't like being told to get myself off in front of people. It makes me nervous in the worst way. It makes me nervous because somewhere along the line I stopped being able to get myself off without props. Which is why I bought a hitachi. Periodically I bring it out, plug it in, and go to town. Some people swear by the attachments, but I find them to just frustrate me further. But still, I have alot of trouble getting myself off, it just doesn't always happen for me.

You see a back in January I was out and I mentioned the way that I like to play in a passing conversation, and the person I was talking to gave me this look. And that look stopped me short. I became very self concious, I began showering in the dark, I did not want to have sex with anyone, and I stopped being able to get myself off. It probably didn't help that I no longer wanted to try. It bothered me that I would be percieved in a negative way. After all, who is anyone to tell me how and with whom to play, least of all someone who barely knows me. It angered me, but it also hit a very sensitive nerve. And because of that my sex drive shut down. I became another woman who was unable to have an orgasm, and that had never happened to me before. I hated that it had happened to me. I grew ashamed of my breasts and the flat stomach that I had once been so proud of. My thighs were disgusting to me. So I started dressing conservatively and ignored my body to the best of my ability.

But then valentines day came around, and I detest valentines day, I detest it with an incredible passion. It would be another day that I would be completely alone. I never understood why no one adopted the Greek tradition of a mass orgies for valentines day. I would love to have meaningless sex on valentines day. Lots and lots of it. But, in the absense of a mass orgy, I bought a hitachi.

I had a lovely valentines day, thank you very much.

I'm sure it will come as a surprise to some of you that even that stopped working for me for a while. It too joined the myriad of sex toys collecting dust in my bottom dresser drawer.

But then one night, on the verge of my period and the absense of a date, I decided to have a go at myself. Why not? In the preceding months I had regained my comfort with my body, and began rejoicing in the pleasure that others could give me, even if I could not count myself among their numbers. So I plugged in my hitachi, but no matter how hard I tried, I could only ride the edge, never quite slipping into that sweet release. This frustrated me to no end.

So I tried straddling it. Two pillows later and a great deal of patience, I managed to get myself off. Again and again and again, and I rode it out like a cowgirl on the back of a bull, my breasts bouncing up and down and my hair, my incredible hair that has always made me feel so sexy, bounced heavily on my shoulders, and I felt like walking sex, or rather cumming sex, as it were. I felt gloriously wonderously lush. I love cumming when I'm on top, but usually it's not feasible with another person, not with the way I'm known to cum. But damn. When you feel incredibly sexy while you are loving yourself, there is nothing quite like it.

Moral of the story? Honestly I can't think of a moral for this story.

Hands

I recently saw a photograph of a man holding a woman, and I was struck by the sight of his hands. He had beautiful hands, hands that I would call, for lack of a better word; masculine. They were hands that I wanted to hold, even though I probably never will. And I would go away from the picture, work on school work, check into various things, but I would always find myself being drawn back to the photo with the mans hands. I know men with similar hands, gorgeous, strong, masculine hands, and I can't help but feel lucky.

Hands are important. They are one of our primary senses, way to feel and explore the tangible world around us. They are how we do, well, everything; we cook and clean with them, we write and build and study with them, we use them when we eat, when we use the bathroom, when we bath, while we are doing just about anything productive (or unproductive) we use our hands. So I have taught myself use hands as a way to measure people. I gaze at their hands, quietly weighing them, making notes of callouses and scars, discolorations and other marks. I take in the strength that hands have; strong hands are very sexy to me; I find large palms and long thick fingers are very attractive on men. Although I don't think I've ever come across a pair of hands I didn't like.

In high school I loved looking at my chemistry teacher's hands, long tapered fingers with pale white nails beautiful broad palms. I love playing with Jefferson's hands, they are gorgeous to me; I love studying the soft underside of his fingers, tracing the lines on his palms, brushing my fingertips against his nails, feeling his strong bones flex in his hands. I find it strangely soothing and comforting to do this. There is also a man who attends Jefferson's orgies, I'm not sure if he has a blog name, but one night he picked me up and carried me back to the bedroom, and I swooned; I almost never get picked up or carried anywhere. Hands are important; they are also used to hold various forms of cargo, be it human or otherwise, even if you don't go anywhere.

A little over a year ago I went over to Boymeat's place help him clean his apartment, and one thing lead to another, and he asked me if I trusted him. I looked at him quietly for a long moment, and I looked at his hands, turning them over to gaze at the backs of his hands and his palms, he said it was the strangest thing, almost clinical, that no one had ever done that before, but he let me satisfy my odd curiousity and in return I gave him my trust. I went home that night with bruised-black thighs and a cane mark on my leg so bad that my eyes teared and my mind blanked momentarily every time something brushed against it; it was awesome.

Or a few weeks ago when Jefferson beat me up and I got scared and grabbed his hand, and would not let go until I managed to pull him down on top of me. That's another really really good thing hands are good for; holding other people's hands.

I'm sure I'm rambling at this point, and you're sick of reading this, or maybe you're wondering what I think of women's hands, honestly, I look at other things when I'm attracted to a woman, like her build, I find big girls sexy, and smaller hands are important to me on women because every so often I get it into my head that I can handle being fisted. But I digress.

I find hands, and arms for that matter, incredibly sexy. They hold us at night when we sleep, they give hugs and hold our children, they cook meals and write books and help people evolve and grow. They carry out the work that we formulate in our minds. And that's important, and as I struggle to find the words to draw this entry to a conclusion, I look down at my hands, typing my words on the keyboard, attempting to convey a message that I don't quite have words for. And think on the honesty of the work that they've done over the years; tending horses, working with children, feeding and changing and playing with my nephew, taking care of my baby cousins, quilting and embroidering, cooking and cleaning. And I can't help but smile.