2 years ago today. It reads ever so matter of fact. A picture of me with a pursed over lip. I’m sulking about something. Probably the weather. What catches my uh...eye...though is a bright red mark in my right eyeball.
A burst blood vessel, from the time I finally hooked up with my “best friend” - that I had been madly in love with for a year and a half give or take - and you wouldn’t FUCKING READ ABOUT IT BUT...
I sneezed during deep throat.
Dead set. No time for “ahh” and then a muffled “choo” that apparently escaped through my right eyeball.
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After endless googling around in loops and jumping through a few hoops...I am officially exempt from travel restrictions and allowed to head back to where my heart is.
And ALLLLL of the orgasms
MY LORD IS MY GIRL EXCITED.
The Boston Strangler is picking me up from the airport to drive me back to my isolation house. We aren’t allowed to touch each other because of COVID restrictions......that is going to be a long, hard drive.
After that I have 2 weeks of isolation at my best friends house <3
AND THEN I am prepared to be fucked like I’ve never been fucked before.
See our conversations have escalated...
I told him about my desire to be given rules and punishment for breaking them. He told me he would give me rules but only once I got there.
I used my negotiation skills later in the week to bargain 2 rules out of him. In exchange for 2 lashes of the belt for each. (Worth it)
Rule 1: My hair must be tied up before getting into bed.
(Note to self: Don’t get your hair cut before you go or it wont tie in a pony)
Rule 2: You must announce when you are going to cum so that the other person can take full advantage.
Where the fuck did this guy come from? As if he served me drinks for a year and I had absolutely no inkling that he’d overhaul my sexual identity.
Who knows where my heads at with this but my Vagina is damn near in love and my heart is starting to buy into her campaign.
He has a bed in the back of the van; He wants to tie me to it and “kidnap me” to a undisclosed location to camp for the night.
“Imagine being blindfolded, tied to my bed in the van. I don’t tell you where we’re going. We drive an hour or so and then we stop. I fuck you until you cum and then take off your blind fold and boom you’re at a lake”
How is this my dream sexual partner and he’s TWENTY-ONE
I’m 4 years older than him. FOUR. He started high school the year I graduated HAHAHA oh wow let’s not go down that road...
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Can't help but think it's funny that I worry about sending a 😘 to the same guy I'll tell I want to fuck me in the ass and stick his cock down my throat til I gag.
So with the first round being the roughest and most exciting sex I’d had...of course I was going back for more. He had me hooked like a junkie. We fucked 3 more times over the next month. I mean I slept with 2 more people in that time cos I’m me...but 4 times in a month is about as close as I get to dating and I don’t think I’d have stopped if I didn’t get sent home.
The day after the first time, he scolded me playfully for leaving scratch marks on his neck. His work friends had called him “scratching post” all day. OOps.
He told me he “had a good solution for that next time”. I think I jumped up and down on the couch at this point!
HE’S GOING TO TIE ME UP!! YES! FUCKING YESSS! FINALLYYYYY!
It’s been a long time coming. A decade of having sex and 30 sexual partners and no ones tied me up. Aint that some bullshit. Rude. I mean maybe if I slept with the same guy long enough he’d get around to it...but this was the first damn time.
The next time we fucked, he opened the bedside draw and pulled out a cable tie. Just the one. Started me off easy not to spook me I suppose. I’ve come to learn from speaking with him, that his kink can have it’s downfalls. I’ll go into that when I delve a little more into the psychology of my new desire to be dominated.
So he cable tied my hands together above my head. Simple and effective. Then he fucked me harder than the first time and this time he threw in “hold your breath for me like a good girl” and covered my mouth and nose while he fucked me. He made me do it a few times. I was getting a little light headed (loving it) and then the last one he let go with the perfect timing, I gasped a loud and intense orgasm.
HELLO NEW OBSESSION.
Dangerous one at that...erotic asphyxiation. Do some googling and be warned. Shit get’s hectic. Now I don’t want a bag over my head but a hand over my mouth or a belt around my neck...I like the idea of trusting someone enough to let me breathe. It’s the ultimate sacrifice of power I suppose.
The lazy girl in me always knew I’d love being tied up. What’s not to love? Oh I get to lay here bound and can’t move or act without you telling me too while you fuck me? You are speaking my language. Seriously that’s gotta be more therapeutic than any spa day.
Turns out that the control freak wants to be made into your slave and the girl who never shut’s up? She loves a ball gag.
I went home with him that night and it was fkn great.
I found a real choker! Not a boy who puts his hand on your throat because he thinks that’s what porn stars like.
I feel like guys choke girls these days just because they think they should? So then you’ve got a whole bunch of guys and girls participating out of some sort of status quo? Weird.
I was excited by the flash of light in the Boston Stranglers eyes when his hand was holding my throat. He really wants me to stop breathing for him. Ha, that’s new, that’s exciting, that’s scary, that’s fun.
I think we fucked like 4 times including the morning. I woke him up at 6am with his cock in my mouth. Couldn’t sleep...oops. Each time was rough and I loved every second of it. I’ve always enjoyed being thrown about a bit in the bedroom. I’m small, pick me up, spin me, throw me, don’t just lay there! But he was another step above. He was assertive and had this tone I hadn’t heard him use before. It was authoritative and I did what I was told.
He called me “good girl” when I was well behaved. Something woke up inside of me. I wanted to do whatever he asked, like a good girl.
In the morning he was fucking me from behind as we spooned. The spoon and fuck is my favourite morning position. No worries about morning breath and minimal movement for hungover bellies and a great entry angle especially if he wakes up your G-spot first with his fingers.
Anyway so he’s spoon fucking me with his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet from the rest of the house and then all of a sudden his pillow case is in my mouth. THIS I LIKE. No ones put a gag of any kind in my mouth before? I’m instantly more turned on.
I walk away in the morning with a couple of small bruises on my chest, one behind my ear from his thumb, 2 big bruises on my knee caps where they’d been knocking together and a want for more.
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So I realised that I never finished the story of how we went from bartender and patron to sir and good girl.
I went for drinks with BS for the first time under the impression that we were just a couple of friends having a drink. He was my bartender so I had joked, we should have a drink on my side of the bar soon...guess I did set that up on reflection...yet oblivious at the time.
Even while getting ready for the drink, I kept saying to my housemates “it’s just __insert real name here__”.
Well well well, was I wrong. We were at our first stop in a mini pub crawl (my favourite kind of Whistler Date...the pub crawl down the stroll). The conversation was easy. It was the first time we’d hung out that he wasn’t working. I had his undivided attention and I learnt more about him. We talked about what brought us to Whistler and our families. I was comfortable and having a laugh with a friend and THEN. We were getting our coats to move to the next bar and he says “hurry up, I want to get you out of here because I just really want to kiss you”
I’m sorry, excuse me, what?
Heart starts pounding. Brain starts re-evaluating the evening so far. Vagina wakes up and is now on standby.
As we are making our way to the next bar we continue chatting but now my comfort has been somewhat replaced with anticipation. When was he going to kiss me? This is torture. Usually I kiss them first now I know one is coming my way on his terms. This is quite a turn of power...my excitement builds. We only had to walk 5 minutes up the stroll, but as we passed each alley way I wondered if he’d pull me down it.
We got to the second bar and by then my impatient self is just about jumping on the guy (I have only now as I wrote this realised that this was a BRILLIANT play by him...man he actually knew exactly what to do...clever, clever boy.) Perhaps he was paying more attention than I thought while serving me my night cap all those months.
I use a pretty easy and well tested move to end the wait and get my kiss. I’m a hyperactive little shit so a staircase opens the opportunity to frolic on down ahead and wait at the bottom. Make eye contact with them on their way down. If they want that kiss (they do), they’ll walk in whatever line it may be down those stairs to end up at the same point you’re waiting at. Watch a mother fucker do a zig zag if he’s really keen.
I wait patiently at the bottom as he walks down to me and meets me face to face. Not that easy darling, you made me wait...I turned on my heels to head down the second half of the stairs when a hand pulled me back and halle-fkn-lujah we have contact!
It was a gooooood kiss. The kind when your back is against the wall. Those ones are the best.
And now I have had a taste, I am much more excited about what the evening holds. Well played sir. Well played.
Right so after 2 months of no sexual contact from anything other than my hand and Buzz (Vibrator - he has a name of course. Full name: Buzz Light Year), I finally broke the covid dry spell!
Now when I get laid, usually I’m left feeling VERY pleased with myself the next day. Hangovers are halved and my self-gratification is all over my face (and god knows what else). My mum calls the look “the cat the got the cream”. To which I love responding “well yes mumma bear, this pussy has been well fed.”
Problem is...this time, kitty woke up hungry.
Let’s go back to how it came about
Last Saturday was my friends 30th Birthday. His name is the Viking because he is a Scandinavian beauty. I can’t sleep with the Viking, he is like a brother to me. He knows me too well, all my flaws and crazy and I value what we have too much. He alas has fallen into the brother-friendzone or the unfuckables. He wouldn’t mind though, I am certainly not his type. He loves a middle eastern or exotic woman with a big behind...I’m a skinny white girl. We good.
I went to the vikings place for drinks around 4. It was him and 3 of his best friends...let’s call them Peter, Alexi and Bearded Bryce. (we call him bearded __insert real name here__ because there was another guy in the group with the same name. Would feel weird not to refer to him as bearded something.)
4 Jim Beams and ya girl down stairs starts her analysis of our situation:
Peter has a girlfriend - OUT
Alexi has a fiance - OUT
The Viking is the viking - STILL OUT
Bearded Bryce is single and damaged - Probably out
A trip to the Bottle-o for a second 6 pack of Jim Beam, a couple of sly looks and a few more bad ideas.
Peter still has a girlfriend - still OUT
Alexi still engaged - still OUT
Viking still the viking - still OUT
Bearded Bryce - It’s not like I’m trying to marry the guy, it’s just one night.
Somewhere between Jim beam can number 7 and number 10 I got bored of waiting for his looks across the room to amount to something. Impatient? Me? No way. He was in the bathroom so I went inside as he was coming out and caught him in the hallway. One look, a step forward and hallelujah he meets the step in and we make out.
Kissing! I forgot how nice kissing is. Tongues feel awesome.
When we went back outside I stayed closer to him and let him draw circles on my legs under the table while we talked to the others. It’s funny, I never realized but I don’t actually have any verbal pick up lines. Everything I do is non verbal. Always starts with the eyes and ends with the hands under the table or in yours leading you to the dance floor after you ask me to dance. Maybe that’s why I hate messaging so much? I don’t usually have to SAY anything to get laid...interesting. ANYWHO tangent over.
He invited me back to his place at the end of the night of course and I went with high hopes...it’d been 2 months after all, I mean I was expecting the fkn Niagara falls at this point.
Instead of the grin that I usually wear...I woke up with this look
No cable ties, no belts, no coercion, erotic asphyxiation?
Where’s the fun in that?
Uh ohh I think I’m broken.
I always liked someone a little more dominating in the bedroom but I didn’t need someone to gag me to get off. I think that the Boston strangler may have woken up a kink in me that could make it hard to go back to plain old vanilla?
Okay so last time I wrote about Tinder I had just joined up and was still having some fun with it albeit not actually getting laid. The messaging was fun but the whole gratification system of getting likes it sets up doesn’t seem incredibly healthy. But in the end I stopped because of all the god damn small talk. The same conversation 4 times a day? No thank you.
It was moderately fun while it lasted (2 weeks). I almost met up with a too-good to-be-true surgeon but was terrified he’d be a catfish and rape/kidnap/murder me.
Looks like I’m not with the Sk8r boi after all. He fell victim to Casper the friendly-for-about-a-week-then-gets-bored Ghost. Never went on that walk and wine date. Oops.
And the rest all just got left unread. Sorry boys. Tinder is not for me.
It really boils down to the Golden Rule for me - does he respect me? These guys don’t know me and I don’t know them. There’s no mutual level of respect established. Unless you count 0:0?
Also what the fuck am I going to talk to them about in the morning or after or before?? I’d no doubt scare half of them when I opened my ADHD mouth. This was highlighted when sk8r boi called me SHY. SHY HAHA I don’t think I have EVER in my existence been called shy. Hilarious. It’s why I called him actually. I was laughing my ass off and decided to give him a reality call.
All in all Tinder was about as successful as I thought it would be but not as awful.
Sexual activity - have had sex! Not great. Not terrible...not belts and cable ties...Not Boston strangler.
Boston strangler - still talk everyday AND he called me!! Again! Think we've opened a phone sex window but my drunk ass wouldn't shut up. Will be more obedient next time.
VISA - still desperately waiting to return.
Creativity - comes in revitalizing waves! I've began drawing. I write sporadically and in times of need.
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The bestfriend that I was in love with. Throw in an ex girlfriend I’m friends with and a mortgage with a high school sweetheart who hates me. Talk about complicated. So complicated that I ran to the other side of the globe. 1 month back, it's my birthday and...wanker.
Oh did I mention HE HAS A GF NOW. Double wanker.
Proud&Promiscuous @proudandpromiscuous - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
