The word ef ee tee el eye ef ee is being deleted from my posts!

Interested to see that the word was removed from an earlier post of mine.  I didn't do it!

Plagued with sleeplessness lately.  Nobody offered to take me up on a fantasy recreation.  The pace has really slowed down since I first got to this site.  Nothin' much to do about it.  On the other hand, I've developed a raging crush on an online contact I made here, so it's not all bad.  I'd just like to get in some real-time kink instead of all this endless endless endless considering of one another from afar (not just him; everybody, on Craig's List and on here and probably on , too, if I ever went there!).  It just isn't possible to take the full measure of a person, remotely.  Ya gotta sit in the coffee shop, at the very least, and get the vibe, the style, and the feel of the person.

Some day, remind me to tell you about the trip I made to Toronto for a week, to meet ... My Master (cue the violins, please) ... where I learned to our mutual very great cost that there's NO substitute for the real thing and that when you think you've got it online, and you find out you don't, it can be really BAD.  We were saved by a mutual love of blowjobs but the rest of it was godawful and I don't need to have that lesson run by me again.  I got it for good and all then!

There are some experiences you can have only once.  Meeting someone for the first time, for example.  A fantasy I had this morning, driving back home from an early walk around Greenlake:

One of the men on this site, who lives within a reasonable distance of me, gives me his address and the time I'm supposed to be there.  My instructions are to knock on his door when I arrive and then turn my back to it.

The door opens and a blindfold is placed over my eyes.  I'm guided into ... his home.

He tells me to remove all my clothing.

He tells me to kneel and put my face on the floor.  He inserts something into my ass.  It burns, but not unbearably.  He tells me to kneel upright.  He closes one clothespin over each of my nipples.  He tells me to open my mouth.

He inserts his cock and tells me to suck.

I obey.

He tells me to keep my eyes firmly closed and removes the blindfold.

He ejaculates onto my face, helps me stand up, and guides me to the door.

He pulls the clothespins off and tells me to remove the plug from my ass, which is made from ginger, when I get home.

The last thing he says to me is, "We'll meet again."  I have not seen him but I'm thrilled.  I masturbate as I drive home.

Tomorrow is shaping up better than I'd thought it would.

The guy and I are communicating now rather than setting limits (we came at this with two pretty different sets of hopes/wants/expectations) and he's not so hard to reach agreement with anymore.

I'm feeling pretty punk rock.  It's been a LONG time.  Getting excited.  :)

I never have the audio turned on when I log in here but just LOOKING at some of these women undulating over on the right side of my screen can really piss me off.

So many of them look like they think it's an *accomplishment* that they have breasts.

If I were a man, I'd be wanting to REALLY let them know what a spanking can be.  And when they asked me for a sign of my appreciation or maybe some "help" (code for money), I'd happily tell them to be glad I was ONLY walking away from them.

Talking with that one guy about going to Fantasy Unlimited downtown this Saturday to get my cocksucking needs met, if the snow lets up enough that I feel mobile.  As it is right now, it's bad enough just getting to and from work.

However, I do have a fun choice to make having gotten through to him that he doesn't get to dress me like Slut Barbie (Jesus, that would've been grotesque; the heels, the nylons, the whole tawdry thing) and he doesn't get to pay my way in.  

So.  I am now at choice.  I can either 1) wear my "Ride the SLUT (South Lake Union Transit)" shirt or, 2) the new one I found when I went to Portland last weekend:  "The Magic Is In the Hole" from Voodoo Donuts.  :)

Two different ways to come off sleazy to guys wanking in a theater, and there under my own steam, not the pseudo-care of a guy who I believe still thinks that paying for something (coffee, dinner, stripper shoes) buys him a piece of me somehow.  My participation is just not something anybody gets to purchase.  (Gee, shoes, and the kind of shoes I HATE?  SURE you can stick your dick down my throat!)

I'll suck him off, because I like sucking cock.  And I'll suck off anybody else I feel like sucking off.  I'm just not HIS and I'm not ever going to be.  Both he and I are clear on that and our goals are aligned (except he probably still wishes he could dress me in his idea of "sexy").  Whatever.  That's not a good look for me and if he can't see that, I can.  I'd feel like a joke if I even tried it.

So, OK.  With that condition on my participation, I think we may both find a way to make it a win.  Be interesting to see if he even wants a blowjob.  I think his real thing may actually be just watching.

I think the free-floating rage about lying, married men is just about over.  Thank God.  That was reeally burning.

Went to Portland.  Had a good trip.  Some true luck entered in (got the saddle shoes!) and I received some true love and support from [good friend].  Couldn't talk about the BDSM asshole stuff but that's my problem (both the stuff and the fact that I can't talk about it).  I keep it locked away for fear of what the people who honestly CARE about me will then know about me, so that then, when it bites me, I'm bitterly alone with it.  I did talk with her about [good friend and his wife] and she helped a LOT and then, when I got home last night (through the snow, which is still here and which will make the commute an hour from hell) [good friend] and I talked and MUCH that needed to be said, was.

I feel healed up from that now.  Being dumped ... that still burns.

FURIOUS.

Hating myself.

It will pass.

My co-worker will be out of the office through the remainder of the month.  There's going to be a lot less slutmail in MY life, for sure.

Fetishizing my bottle ... I guess I don't see any reason not to.  And I guess "fetishizing" is too strong a word anyway.  But I do feel some genuine affection for it.  I was able to take it in all the way to its shoulder AND, once it was there and had opened me up somewhat, I was able to get onto my knees and prop it against the bed and fuck it.  I was able to let it slide all the way out and then all the way back in.  I certainly did not expect THAT.   I didn't expect to WANT to, for sure.

These videos I've been watching, of sluts who can take things four, five, six times bigger than that, aren't good for my sense of perspective and proportion.  He told me size isn't the point and that I shouldn't try for it, that the point is to associate anal penetration with pleasure.

Lucky somebody is keeping their eyes on the prize here!

1/9/2012

I hate the fact that my kinkiness is so inextricably bound up in my character defects.  Having a domineering, bullying, creative and intelligent  mother and a passive, sweet-natured alcoholic father has left me with some mutually irreconcilable issues that I can't ever seem to get a handle on.

I don't want to see women top men, especially not how my mom did.  In fact, I HATE it. This leads straight to my submissiveness.

I >>behave like my mom<< especially under stress but in a lot of other ways, too.  Dominant men don't turn on to that.

The constant criticism to which I was exposed led me to conclude early and, apparently, for good that I'm worthless.  Leads straight to my desire to be sexually degraded and humiliated.

I can't be a domme and I'm only submissive by an act of will.

Gaaaaaaaaaah!

1/9/12:

I need to do some bad karma prevention.  I was in communication with a few guys who responded to a Craig's List ad I left, wanting to make contact with somebody who knew hypnosis and could help with my desire to deep throat and then I had the trouble with my back, and Christmas, and a major cold ... and now I feel like I've left them thinking I'm yet another CL flake.

Need to get those guys' cocks sucked!

I'm going to ask the Portland man for permission to establish my own anal discipline.  By which I mean self-discipline with the goal of losing my fear of anal penetration.

So far, what I'd like to ask permission for are:  1) to insert a plug any time I feel the desire, and 2) to insert my fingers into my ass after I pee, to gently stretch myself.

I think he'll see the sense of it and, if not, I know already it'll be harder when he restricts my orgasms because I slid a plug into my butt last night and it really eased the need I was feeling to masturbate.  He may feel a desire to punish me for that.  I do feel that I have to tell him.

1/7/12:

Vibrator technology has definitely been making advances while I wasn't looking.  I went to the Lovers' Package store last night so I could complete my assignment to masturbate in a parking lot and ended up with a much more positive impression of the place than I had expected.  

Some of the sex stores I've frequented have seemed to be founded on an assumption that sex is a bad and dirty thing to be getting into and anybody in the store should feel ashamed and guilty just for being there.  Customers make sidelong glances at other customers if they make them at all, nobody laughs.  Hell, nobody TALKS.

This place, by contrast, had something else going and not what I expected.  The assumption seemed to be that women might like to feel that they're encountering mystic and pleasant wonders.  The store was glossy and the clerks conveyed a genuine welcome nicely combined with helpfulness and a perfect sense of when and how to back off.  ("Here are the vibrators, they go along the wall from [I forget, it seemed to be little to giant but was definitely widely varied].  If you want to know how anything feels or sounds, let me know and we can pop a box open for you.  I'll let you look now.")

So I bought a little vibrator shaped like a lipstick, the packaging of which said it's good for use in the office (we'll see about THAT, it seemed just a tad loud to me) and some lube that's WAY better than the astroglide I'm accustomed to and masturbated in my car in their parking lot, per my instructions.

A nice night.

1/6/12

I just looked at this journal as a whole and see that it's skewing really hard to the slut stuff.  Just as a reminder to anybody who might be reading:  I have interests other than getting cock into me.  :)

1/6/2012

I feel a lot better about myself when I know a man wants to use me.  It doesn't even matter that he's told me that, to him, I'm nothing but a collection of holes.  I still get sexually excited and I like that.

I don't know if I'll ever have the whole thing with a man who I believe really cares about ME, but if I can be the slut some number of men want to fuck, sodomize, and piss into, that knowledge somehow makes my day go easier and my sense of humor and senseof living a vibrant life increase.

I want to crawl, suck cock, and lick boots.  For the right men.

Excited.  The man in Portland has given me some delicious instructions.  He wants me to wear a dress, drive to a parking lot, expose my cunt and masturbate to the point just before I come at least six times.  I'm supposed to stop masturbating if people walk by, but I have to leave myself exposed and then resume masturbating when they're gone.  Then he wants a picture of my cunt.

I just love this remote control stuff!  He's a good, open communicator, too.  I'm going to enjoy making my body available to him.

I decided to go to a "Lover's Package" parking lot to perform my assignment.  Seemed apropos.

I think it must be the weather, guys are sending email that I don't even remember, wanting to be serviced.  And I'm in the mood to service them.  :)

Still 1/4/2012:  I've put a rubber band on my wrist.  It's my reminder to let the submissiveness come over me.  (I was making it all romantic, thinking I'd get a special ribbon and double it over my wrist and close it with a bead; it doesn't need that.  It's the spirit that make sexual submission valuable.  A rubber band does everything the ribbon could have done.  It's a reminder of the promises I've made:  that I will submit.

He said he'd enjoy fucking me up the ass and I've always felt bad that I wasn't better at taking it anally.  My introductions to being fucked anally weren't sensitively done (to say the least) and it left me with a lot of fear that I honestly think is unnecessary.

I want to offer my ass to men who like to buttfuck the sluts they use, and he's willing to help so ... I'm going to take cock up the ass tonight.

Getting excited.

1/4/2012:  I'm going to be used tonight.  I slutted for a local guy some time ago and we mutually concluded that it didn't seem to be quite right for both of us, but we stayed friendly.  He's been horny lately and I want to provide pictures to a few men who have expressed an interest in sexually dominating me.  It's nice, and a touch scary, to know that in a few hours a man will be making a photographic record of feeding me his cock and pissing on me.  I can use the time to induce the obedient trance state that, when I can get there, allows me to be happy and satisfied as nothing more than a set of fuckable holes, which is what this particular man wants.