So, I did indeed not find the person I was looking for. That was an interesting ride, though. o.0

Wow. I needed that.

Thank goodness for cute older men who can actually write and follow instructions.

Dear gentleman in the UK who just looked at my profile,

I saw your photo and there is NO WAY that you weigh 85 US pounds (lbs). 

Maybe you are used to typing in 85 for kilograms, but for the love of kittens and puppies kindly find a weight converter and correct your profile.

Good luck out there,

B

Either this guy has done a lot of research and is playing a long con on lil' ol' me, or I have found a cutie patootie.

Not to self: no collaring on the first date. 

I recently sent this to a few people who DMed me:

"Did you send this to me by mistake? It reads as though you are in the middle of a conversation with someone else."

As it turns out, people are referring to journal posts I have made days, weeks or even months in the past WITHOUT AN INTRODUCTION EXPLAINING WHY THEY ARE WRITING TO ME. 

It does not take much to preface a message with, "I saw your most recent journal post here and I think ..." or "I was doing a deep dive into your journal here and I noticed ..."

I do not re-read my journal every time I log on. My DMs are not the comments section of my journal. Indeed, journal entries here are not like forum topics where the the context is already obvious. 

So if you write me about something I posted to my journal and I have no idea what you are talking about, now you know why I sent you that type of reply.

I am seriously considering adjusting my age and relationship status restrictions as far as one-off play goes. I'm holding onto my preferences for anything other that that, but a one-off slap-and-tickle date at an event? Eh, why not?

"I like to compliment those who ask for humiliation." - ForcefulDutch 

I agree with this so much. I don't want to insult people. I want to coo over them like I would puppies. 

"HOOZA CUTIE? YOUDA CUTIE! AREN'T YOU A CUTIE? YES YOU ARE! YES YOU ARE!"

Yes, I will do that shit in the middle of a play party, because I have no pity.

Speaking of which, I'm attending the Yes M'Lady munch on Tuesday. squee!

I feel quite accomplished. After reading about the Burned Haystack Dating Method, I submitted three suggestions to the admins here. I realize that these may not change anything immediately - or at all - but I feel better for having done so.

On walking to dinner last night, I saw two young women walking together ahead of me. They were wearing goth or fetish type clothing, one more so than the other but both had on fabulous boots. 

As they chatted and pointed out shops, the smaller one fastened the handcuffs she was already wearing around the wrist of the taller one.

When we reached the crossing light, I told them they were both adorable. They beamed at me.

After discussing my challenges with dating or even befriending certain types of people, my friend wants to come up a snappy phrase for me to use that translates into, "Yes, but your complete list of Issues Has to Fit in Large Print on an Index Card or It’s Too Much for Me.”

That's much pithier than what I originally said, so ... progress!

Sometimes I wonder if any of the long distance folks who contacted me claiming to be too shy to attend events in person took advantage of the virtual events going on during the pandemic to make connections in their local community so that they could be more at ease attending nearby kink and fetish events in person now. 

Or if the ones who stayed hesitant, or are immunocompromised, lobbied to keep the virtual events going.

Twice recently I've been ask about any simple fantasies I have. I've been responding with:

Being the little spoon with a partner who is wearing a chastity device while cuddling.

I just realized something about how I respond to email from strangers. If I get a promising email from a local who meets most of my basic requirements and is actually responding to what I wrote in my profile, I get intrigued and I start investigating compatibility to find out if this is worth my time for a meet and greet or coffee date.

What I do not do is pretend to be seductive or flirty with someone I have never met. I get down to business. The last thing I want to be accused of is sending mixed signals, or promising something by flirting before I know if I'd actually flirt in person. The whole demisexual thing: if I wouldn't hit on you in person, why would I do it before we even met? 

I realize that this may put off folks who contact me and look good at least on paper, but hey - it's a point of compatibility if they actually run with the way I investigate them.

For my birthday trip, I reached out to a few people a week before my flight to the East Coast. 

One here, an admirer: I dropped him a line asking if he wanted to meet for coffee. The records show that he read my message, but he never replied. 

On another site, I followed up on a post from someone offering massages. There was no way to message the person directly, but the site indicates that there's a response to a post when you log on. He logged on since I posted my comment, and I heard nothing before I boarded my plane. 

I actually saw his reply after I got back: he finally reached out when I was away. However, by the tie I landed and got settled, activities started and I didn't bother checking these sites. He requested a raincheck for my return. I told him sure, if I remembered. 

"Oh, if only you weren't so far away ..." my aunt fanny.

I did the annual update of my profile to adjust my age (I still wonder why that doesn't just happen automatically here) and checked my profile to confirm that it took, which it did. Upon scrolling down past my interests list, I noticed something: two animated icons that I'd never seen before.

One, in blue, showed a woman looking up and holding a hand out. The mouse-over text read, "Godess to be worshipped."

The other, in gold, showed a shining crown. I put my cursor over it and read, "Soverign to be obeyed."

*blink*

I looked at several men's profiles and saw no such additions. I looked at two other women's profiles and only saw the crown icon once.

So, yeah. That happened.

I once played with someone who did not experience nausea during ballbusting: it hurt, an they got an endor high from it, but never felt queasy. Therefore, we were able to play longer and harder than I usually do for CBT.

One standout moment was when they admitted that when they'd orgasmed at the end, it was through sore balls and that ejaculating actually hurt.

I still climax to that memory.

I don't often come up with pickup lines, but I'm absurdly proud of:

"Dahling, I want to make you scream like you're Ruby Rhod and I'm Korben Dallas."

Back in profile edit jail. 

It must be Spring. I scrolled through recent journal entries and saw a record amount of posts regarding "time wasters". Some folks are particularly relentles, yes, though I've also noticed some profiles getting listed as suddenly disabled once it's clear that I'm not interested.

Spring cleaning has started early this year.

Off and on since yesterday I have been chatting with someone on another system who is turning out to be a walking dumpster fire. A nice, friendly dumpster fire, but still ... bruh.

The yellow flags started to morph into orange, and then caught fire. I'm counting that as "red".

Tea is very nice.

Tea being served to me is even better.

Either way: tea! 

Public Service Announcement

For those who have a tendency to delete their own profiles multiple times in a few weeks just because they're getting contacts from people of a less desirable gender, age, role, or location there is the option to set Mail Controls

so that messages from people of:

• certain genders
  - either any, or who identify as certain kinky orientations
  
  
• outside of specified age ranges
  
  
• outside of your country of residence
  
  
• part of a couple's profile
  
  
• a situation where they have no profile available at the time of contact
  
  

... go into the Bulk folder, and thus you don't get a notification that they've contacted you. Depending on how hard-core you are about your filters, you can delete every message that appears in there unread.

You can either follow the link I included above, or you can find the Mail Controls button at the top, right-hand corner after clicking on "Read Mail."

Now, if you tend to dig into your Bulk Mail no matter what, um, good luck with that.

How odd.

I understand, more than perhaps I ever have, how - upon being shaken by a recent event - a person can just seek out another person to use for carnality.

I'm demisexual. The idea of doing so ... bothers me. 

And yet.

Dang. Some of y'all CUTE!

Annoyingly far away, but eye-candy nevertheless.

*fans self*

I'm not sure if this tells anyone anything other than that I occastionally take quizes online, but ... 

== Results from bdsmtest dot org == 

97% Dominant 

95% Degrader 

95% Master/Mistress 

90% Sadist 

82% Owner 

80% Daddy/Mommy 

79% Non-monogamist 

66% Primal (Hunter) 

59% Brat tamer 

53% Rigger 

50% Switch 

46% Experimentalist 

37% Ageplayer 

31% Boy/Girl 

30% Pet 

28% Vanilla 

23% Brat 

22% Degradee 

21% Primal (Prey) 

16% Submissive 

15% Voyeur 

10% Exhibitionist 

9% Rope bunny 

7% Masochist 

4% Slave 

The chair in my pictures is my queening chair in both active and stealth mode. 

Good news: someone tipped me off about setting the journal background! It never occured to me to scroll all the way down to the bottom of the "Edit Journal" section.

Bad news: My profile is being haunted.

What. The. Heck.

I tried stripping older photos from my profile to keep from being accused of catfishing, and one I deleted will not leave. It's from 2006 and really needs to go. However, I went through the photo slots over and over and it's not coming up in there. It only shows up when I look at my profile.

GAAAAH! 

How does one actually change the background color on a journal post? I've tried two different browsers and cannot figure out how do to what others do here.

Similarly, I've learned not to edit my profile late at night: I picked the wrong role. *oops*

I'm reconsidering what I want out of intimate relationships, including kink and/or power exchange.

So if you're wondering what happened to my profile, that's what.

The most intriguing profile I ever read had the statement:

Unless I'm wearing your collar, don't call me 'daddy'.

Several concepts clicked for me upon reading that.

I love the idea of submissive daddies. Pity there aren't any nearby. 

Today I had a meet and greet with a man who was:

Everytime someone sends me a message that includes the word money, I think, "Oh, shit - here we go."

And those messages rarely disappoint in being particularly appalling. Meanwhile I'm sitting here trying to figure out where in my profile I mention ANYTHING about wanting to "whore" people out, expecting them to make money for me, or accepting money for ... anything.

I can't tell if this is standard TL;DR of profile skimming, or a wacky attempt at entrapment.  

(There is apparently a way to actually change the entire background color of a post: I have seen other users do it. All I can figure out to do is to use a different color "highlighter" to contrast against the font color. I guess it is essentally the same thing, but dang.)

I got contacted by a man on FetLife who fits so many of my criteria that I'm actually tempted:

• lives one city over
• within 7 years of my age
• in an open relationship (he's separated ad casually dating)
• has a car

He already has some chastity devices, and we have overlapping interests. We're sizing each other up, but he sounds eager to meet. eeeee!

My only concern is his interest in "intox play," which Urban Dictionary

defines as:

short for intoxication play, It is a type of BDSM scene where one or both partners get intoxicated and have consensual sex.

I put that one down as a hard limit: it's too easy to forget important things like negotiating safe-signals before someone is tied up and gagged. Not *cough* that I'd have any direct experience with that. *ahem*

However, we have plans for a coffee date this week, so here's hoping. However, since the pandemic it's not like I've been a social butterfly, so if nothing else I'll get points for making the effort.  

The Forums are back!!!

Huh. I got contacted by a man on FetLife who fits so many of my criteria that I'm actually tempted:

• lives one city over
• within 7 years of my age
• in an open relationship (will verify that it's actually open)
• has a car

He already has some chastity devices, and we have overlapping interests. We're sizing each other up, but he sounds eager to meet.

eeeee!

Huh. 

I got a reply back from CollarSpace Support about age edits to profiles: they're supposed to be automatically approved.

Here's the problem: they have to be done on a Windows PC for automatic approval. I guess everyone else is SOL. 

As annoying as it is to have to edit my profile every year if I want to show an accurate age, I think I can see why this website isn't set up to accept birthdates: privacy. Some people don't want to share their birthdate - or even a close approximate - with every single personals site they're on.

Okay. Fine. 

Perhaps have users input the age once, and having the site +1 the age each year after the original sign-on date?

Or have users put in their birth year, have the site calculate the age and, again, have the site increase the age by 1, once a year, at the anniversary of the original account creation?

Ages stay mostly accurate, and folks don't have to have their profiles taken down just for a small yearly adjustment.

The current rash of folks who are out of my preferred age range, not local, and not submissive has spurred me to actually reach out to some local folks. In doing so, I saw some notes I'd left after reaching out to a few here ... who have since logged on and never wrote back.

No answer is indeed an answer.

Unless there's a specific turn of phrase or stunning picture, I don't reach out to folks who aren't part of the demographic I'm interested in. I also skim profiles in order to avoid folks who've obvious filtered me out ... through given the silence I encounter not everyone is as forthcoming as I am.

Still, every so often the amount of attention prompts me to wonder if anyone actually local might be as interested as folks in another time zone or generation. It's worth a shot, at least.

I understand that this may sound bizarre to some folks, but I have an idea regarding the slow turnaround time for getting a profile updated here: only update your profile when you're considering taking a break from the site.

Check your profile: what age does it list you as? If you haven't joined within the past year, it's probably not your current age. Rather than requesting a birthdate, CollarSpace asks us for our age. To keep an accurate profile, we'd have to edit it once a year. If you're taking a break anyway, maybe adjust your age to one year into the future - or however long your breaks from this site usually take - so that it has a chance of being accurate upon your return.

Look at your photos: do you still look like that? Has your hair, body shape, or anything else changed at all? Before putting your profile on hiatus, consider updating your photos to be current.

What about your location? Have you moved? Are you planning to move? Why not update that as well?

Will your profile be perfectly accurate upon your return? Maybe, maybe not. Will it be much more accurate than it would be if you left it alone? Almost certainly, and you wouldn't have had to get grumpy about the wait. 

I do wish that there was some way toj ust enter at least a birth year into this system and let it automatically update user ages. Having it be be almost a year off is better than what I just saw: 15 years out of date.

This is actually messing up people's ability to search, considering that almost nobody wants to update their profile because it'll be in a pending status for months to seasons on end.

I also miss the forums, as that seems like a better place to post this.

I lost my voice a week ago, and am still recovering from it.

I attended a street fair yesterday with a friend: between gesturing, my smartphone, and her I managed to communicate with others when necessary, but I agree: if this keeps up for much longer, I may need to learn sign language.

Still, it was lovely to just have a last minute adventure. It's been a while.

Whee. I have laryngitis.

I recently downloaded an app called Big. I typed a word into it, took a screenshot of it, and used it as my phone's lock screen:

laryngitis

So, no coffee dates for a while.

Good grief. I've barely been back for a week and I'm already experiencing burnout after dealing with a bunch of people who are either too far away or outside of the age range I specified. 

Then folks complain about not getting responses, or getting ghosted.

ugh.

Be local, because I want to touch you

First Impressions

hooray! My edited profile has been accepted! I didn't see email announcing this, I simply logged today and noticed. 

So, the forum is gone. That's too bad: I never got the hang of random chat, and preferred the forums for structured communication with random people around the world.

I'm re-learning the system. When viewing folks who've viewed me, I'm uncertain if there's a way to check someone's location on the mobile app without clicking on their profile: I know that I can do it if they have a photo, but I don't think a phone app has a "mouse over"-type feature as the regular website does.

I really wish that email would filter for distance the way that member searches do. If I'm not looking for folks over a certain number of miles away from me, why would I want mail from them to show up anywhere other than my Bulk mailbox?

Still, with the rumors I've been reading elsewhere about how long it was taking for profiles to get approved, I'm surprised that my account got reinstated so quickly.

I took a break from CollarSpace in 2019. If nothing else, this site was good for the occasional coffee date: more likely than not, the person would actually show up. I'm uncertain if things will change, but I'm curious to give it another go.

A few days ago I scheduled a coffee date with someone on a different kinky site. I'd accidentally sent him a "wink" when my finger slipped on his profile, which was unfortunate as he also identifies as a dominant. However, he DMed me about having submissive tendencies that he didn't mention on his profile (nothing on there about being a switch). We chatted off and on for a few days and then decided to schedule a coffee date.

He's in another city, but close enough that I wasn't too worried about his commute. He was way younger than what I was looking for, but he assured me that he wasn't worried about the age discrepancy. He wasn't commercially attractive, so I wasn't completely suspicious of his motives, but he was quite vague in direct messaging about what he was hoping for. 

Having bussed over, I got there early enough to get a to-go tea and grab a table. We'd talked about getting warm beverages and going for a walk while we chatted, weather permitting. I played Pokémon Go as I waited, having multiple tasks and projects to address in the game as apparently beating Team Rocket Go Boss Giovanni wasn't enough for one day.

I experimented with ways to look up when someone came in without looking expectant. He and I had traded photos, so we pretty much knew what each other looked like. I committed to staying at least 15 minutes after our official meeting time as getting parking in that neighborhood could be tricky. We hadn't swapped phone numbers, so I checked the site periodically to see if he'd contacted me: nothing.

A PoGo raid started at 3:15pm on the dot, so I left closer to 3:25pm ... just after he sent several messages to me over the kink site about his truck giving up the ghost to the tune of $4,000 and him being so worried about it all.

Uh-huh.

It's possible that he was telling the truth and that this wasn't some really, really bad attempt at a scam. But then I remembered his reported age, the vagueness about what he was hoping for, the secret reveal that he was interested in finding a domme; and I think that maybe I dodged a bullet.

Mollena Williams-Haas once talked about gameifying putting oneself out there by awarding oneself points to being brave enough to try, pulling together the energy to be bothered, presenting oneself attractively, and - in this case - even bothering to show up. So, hey - I have more points!

And that tea was quite lovely.

Thoughts on anal sphincter relaxation

Early on, I discovered something interesting: one partner startled me in bed by suddenly play-acting and shaking me roughly while scolding me. I was so taken aback by the sudden action that my sphincter opened up and anal play happened very smoothly.  My understanding is that there's Fight, Flight, and Submit reactions in the body - either my sphincter opened in reparation for me to empty my bowels and run, or my body relaxed itself in preparation for violation with minimal trauma. I'm not sure of which, but it worked.

Oddly, the best book I found on anal experimentation is Anal Pleasure & Health by Jack Morin, Phd. There's something about reading the book that actually will relax my outer sphincter.  Not something I can take to bed with a partner unless we're in a very peculiar scene, but just knowing that it could happen was intriguing.

For years I could not understand what people meant by "relax". I could bathe, lay around, read, get a massage, listen to gentle music, etc. and it wouldn't matter: my sphincter would still be locked shut.  During a discussion circle at a local sacred sexuality center, someone voiced some advice: 

"You know how when you're watching a very small human asleep in its cradle, and when it breathes it sort of stretches? It's like watching one of those 'plump when you cook 'em' hot dog commercials, right? If you breathe like that while relaxing, elongate your spine and stretch out, your part of the way there. The other part, and I know this sounds weird, is to picture yourself breathing through your asshole.  Seriously! Give it a try, and picture the air passing through your body."

We tried it.

"You can feel it, right?"

Some of us could, and I was one of them.  I've used this since, and it helps a lot.

I've never liked heating or cooling lubes on my vulva. They give me an unpleasant burning sensation. I don't want to fuck when I use them, I just want them off. However, one day I was playing around with a sample of Blossom Organics "Warm Sensation Moisturizing Lubricant" I'd gotten from favorite sex toy store, and it occurred to me to try it on my ass.  

This was an excellent idea. The warmth was gentle enough to be (supposedly) safe to use on mucus membranes, so I wasn't in agony. However, it was warm enough to help relax my outer sphincter. It was NOT a numbing lube, just a warming one.  YMMV, but it might worth investigating.

In my particular experience, after forcing or being forced to deal with anal pain, it takes a months of gentling to convince my sphincter muscles that it's safe and that I won't allow them to be harmed again. There's no rushing this, and I no longer stay in relationships where I feel the need to do so. 

A few years back I contacted a dominant woman about borrowing her submissive husband for an evening, if they both were agreeable and interested. They were. :) He and I met up at a local coffee house to confirm that we clicked, and we did. He and his dominant were former members of the CSPC, so he was fine with going there to play. Once safely enclosed in his car, we began to negotiate in ernest. I warned him that I as much as I love being gone down upon, I rarely orgasm from it. He let me know that he was perfectly happy to have intercourse with me, but he wouldn’t come from it; he tended to orgasm by masturbating while being facesat. It sounded good to me.

We talked about the specifics of facesitting. I hadn’t had the best luck with the activity in the past. It was either uncomfortably bony-feeling to sit on an angular face, especially one with a big nose; or my knees ached from trying to keep my weight off the face. He assured me that he’d played with women much larger than me and that he’d taken their weight on his face, and offered to give me some positioning pointers for the sake of my comfort.

Despite his previous membership to the Center, he’d never been to a just-sex party before and he was unsure of how it all worked. However, since neither of us were exhibitionists I reassured him that we’d be playing in the back rooms where voyeurs could only go if invited to watch a specific scene. His main kink is facesitting combined with - as he put it in his profile - “free booty cleanings for women age 40+ and 200lbs+”. ahem. I’d contacted his wife just as soon as I stopped giggling over that phrase.

As I stripped, I specifically posed so he could get a look at my ass. His eyes widened with appreciation. “Wow. I couldn’t tell by looking at you from the front.”

“Yeah, I suppose what little hips I have don’t cue people off. It’s more of an out-the-back shape than a side-to-side one.”

He started grasping my ass with his startlingly cold hands. I squeaked.

“It’s really nice.”

I tried not to snort as I said, “Thank you.” I think a giggle escaped, though. “Wanna see a trick?”

He grinned. “Are you gonna booty clap?”

“No, this is something I did for a few friends of mine once. Okay, feel me up again.”

He did, then let go. I then tensed up the muscles. “Now try again.”

“Huh. No. I mean, yeah - I can feel the muscles, but you still got some nice jiggle there.”

“Ah, well. Once I surprised a physical therapist with that one. I guess you’ll just have to settle for what I have now.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Poor me.”

Indeed, he really liked my ass - he was impressed with how muscular and soft it was all at the same time. He kept reaching over to feel it, which occasionally prompted more squeaks because his hands stayed cold.

As part of instruction we tried a position that involved him sitting on the floor (on a pillow covered by a pillow case, as he was naked) and me sitting upon his head while my legs were over the ledge of the bed. It was … okay, though it took a minute to get into a good position. After a bit more fussing over the instructional part, he noticed that I wasn’t particularly aroused. I admitted that I was more in student-geek mode than anything else. He suggested pleasuring me first so that I’d be aroused for the facesitting. He’d bragged about his prowess on the ride over, assuring me that he’d had no trouble getting women off and that I’d come just fine; and he was stunned to realize that I’d been right about the challenge. After a pleasant while he asked if he could slip a finger into my vagina and I agreed, then - to his surprise - asked him to add another. That’s when I started getting loud. I adore g-spot stimulation. It’s not the same as a clitoral orgasm, but I have no complaints on that score.

His face was covered with my juices and his back with sweat by the time we stopped to rest, and then agreed to try penetration. He’d warned me that he might bottom out, given that he had an 8 - 9 inch cock, so we negotiated what we’d do in that eventuality. He got one of the larger-size condoms I’d brought on, I got into what the Romans used to call the Lioness position. The Center provides average size condoms, but I was taking no chances and brought some larger ones. He told me that the one he selected fit him perfectly.

He slid in, and I was braced to yelp for lube. Thankfully wonderful foreplay and a pre-lubricated condom worked wonders and we were off. Have you ever seen Red Dwarf? To quote Cat:

"Put a Black 'n' Decker on it and I can go through walls, baby!"

Goddamn, that boy was energetic. Oh, my. There’s something to be said for virility combined with talent. Pardon me. I’m just going to go to my Happy Place for a moment. Mmmmm. Ah. Much better. Thank you. Back to the story.

He was shocked that he didn’t bottom out, especially as we were in the perfect position for it. As it turns out, my glutes are a sort of fleshy armor that help to protect my cervix. He was so unused to this result that the little sneak started trying to bang my cervix by fucking me even harder and deeper, and even grabbing my shoulders to press as far in as he could. Nope. EpicBooty to the rescue! Granted, I was still yowling from all the love my g-spot was getting, but there was no pain. (And *neener* to him for trying. hmph.)

Once done and disentangled, he pulled on his jeans and asked if people would mind if he walked out front to the bathrooms without a shirt on.

“Hon, you could walk out there naked and the worst that would happen is that people would check out your dick. You’re fine.”

Off he went while I curled up and reaffirmed my belief in Santa Claus, who’d arrived early this year.

When he came back and dropped trou, he suddenly got very, very cold. I got up in search of a blanket as he went fetal, and he got him covered. I curled up into the flat sheet and lay with him for a while. I kept offering to share body heat, but he wasn’t used to cuddling with people he barely knew. I thought that was a little odd given what all we’d already done and were planning to do, but he was responsive and his teeth weren’t audibly chattering, so I didn’t think he was in so much distress that I needed to force myself upon him. (And if he’d kept refusing by that point, I’d like to think that I would have found a Dungeon Monitor to help rather than traumatize him with unwanted touch while he was already in a bad way.) He warmed up and marveled that I had gotten up, bold as brass, and walked around the back room looking for a blanket while stark naked. Well, there was one other couple in the back room, and they were preoccupied happily with each other. Also, this was the Center. If I couldn’t walk around naked in from of people *there* I might as well just give up on any sort of public nudity. The Center is very welcoming and forgiving. Hell, they even used to run an an off-site clothing optional swim.

But I digress.

We decided to try me kneeling over him. I was nervous about it, but willing try. He asked if I was okay with him ejaculating on me. My usual rule is, “you splash me, you lick it up”. Hey, I’ll lick, kiss, and suck my juices from my partner’s mouth if they’ll let me. Like many men I’ve been with, he was disturbed by the idea, but let me know that he generally didn’t splash more than few drops that far. I figured that since I hadn’t negotiated this possibility with his dominant, that I’d allow him some slack this time.

I discovered that his willingness to have my entire weight resting on his face meant that a great deal of strain was taken off of my knees. It took a while to get the ideal positioning right, and he eventually asked me to spread my ass cheeks to allow him better access. Once I did that, his tongue went straight up my ass and started researching quite thoroughly. I was gasping and rocking and groaning, which isn’t something I often get from anal play.

I’m not sure of how I knew when to raise off of him. He was jerking off, and rarely took his hands off his cock. I think I was watching the shifts in his legs. When he was fine, he’d lay still. When it started to get difficult, one leg would start to rise a little. I’d move forward onto my arms to keep my knees from taking it. He’d gasp, get some air, and then kiss one of my buttocks. I’d flail a little on getting back on my knees (hey! Remember, I’m still a novice at this, thank you very much!) but once up I got much smoother at settling down onto his mouth. This went on for a while until he started making odd noises. I wondered if I was hurting him, then looked down. He was still jacking off, so I leaned forward a bit. His noises got louder and he came. Even with me leaning forward, he was right - I maybe got an eighth of a drop on my breast and the same on my belly. No worries, easy to wipe off.

I was in no pain at all when we were done. Putting as much weight as I could on his face saved my knees. Once I’d scooted over to let him up and he caught his breath, he said, “Wow, I came *really fast*. I never come that fast.” I guess all of the stopping and starting and adjusting didn’t take away from the experience for him.

He turned cold again and we got the blanket out for him again. As we lay there, he commented, “Your ass is really clean. Like, that’s the cleanest ass I’ve had my faces in.”

“Well, I promise: I did not do any special cleaning for you.”

He blinked at me. “You didn’t?!?”

“Nope. No enemas or nothin’.”

“WOW. I didn’t taste anything. That never happens.”

Best. Pillow talk. EVAR.

Unfortunately, I discovered today that I didn't clearly read the fine print on the dominant's profile. While the couple plays with other people together and separately, it's a one time deal each time with no repeats. So, while I finally had a good experience with facesitting, I don't get to repeat it with the guy who made it so amazing. I've only kicked myself a little for not fully reading the dominant's profile - that could have ended badly, and I was very lucky that it didn't. But still, drat.

Now, at least, if someone offers me their face as a seat, I know that I can not only facesit them but enjoy it. Good memories and education: it's hard to feel all that let down. I hope that both of them continue to have a wonderful time together and with others. They're generous, smart, beautiful and gave me something wonderful.

1. There was a brief, clothed social hour.
2. At the end of the social hour, any men who would be staying clothed had to leave. (Some naked men freak out in the company of clothed men.)
3. The doors would lock before the party started. Anyone could leave, but nobody new could enter.
4. It wasn't a sex or BDSM play party.  However, service like shoulder massage over clothes, or foot massages, or fetch-and-carry, was encouraged for those who consented.
5. The focus of the party was for the benefit of the feminine gaze, so being presentable was important.
6. The games involve board and card games the would last under a certain amount of time (no longer than 40 - 60 minutes).
7. Negotiations and clear consent were mandatory.

== Results from http://bdsmtest.org/

==

97% Dominant
95% Master/Mistress
95% Degrader
90% Sadist
82% Owner
80% Daddy/Mommy
79% Non-monogamist
66% Primal (Hunter)
59% Brat Tamer
53% Rigger
50% Switch
46% Experimentalist
37% Ageplayer
31% Girl/Boy
30% Pet
28% Vanilla
23% Brat
22% Degradee
21% Primal (Prey)
16% Submissive
15% Voyeur
10% Exhibitionist
9% Rope Bunny
7% Masochist
4% Slave

See my results online at http://bdsmtest.org/result.?id=1448822

I first really started paying attention to musical and fashion styles in the 80s, when terms like gender-bending were becoming common nationally, if not internationally.  Prince, Adam and the Ants, Dead or Alive, Culture Club … bands floating in or around the New Romantic period were setting part of my standard for commercially beautiful male appearance.  The men didn’t have to be dainty - considering that Terry Lee from Adam and the Ants was physically huge compared to Adam and still looked pretty.  

The thing is, just approaching that level of pretty-looking is work.  This involved make-up, clothes, posture, and general style.  Or, to quote a later Adam Ant album title, Manners and Physique.  

And this is what I think of when I imagine cross-dressing.  The son in Down and Out in Beverly Hills.  Male Goths who wear skirts, chunky boots, and make-up.  Glenn Shadix’s characters from Bettlejuice or Demolition Man.  Hell, the men at Ecstatic Dance who wear wide, flowing dance pants, form-fitting tops, and perhaps even a scarf or hat when they’re feeling particularly cheeky.  Dandies.  

Men who got their colors done, figured out what cuts work for their body shapes, figured out what looks they want to cycle through depending on the temperature, and who work with what they have.  Those guys are hot to me.

I don’t consider cross-dressing to involve putting on an ill-fitting dress with shoes that don’t match, a bad wig, and worse make-up.  That is, at best, bad drag to my mind.  As I came up through my pre-teens, cross-dressing meant clothes that obviously crossed gender divides, not ones that abandoned one for the other. 

Now, I do have a thing for men in sheer panties. (Not ruffles.  I can’t find ruffles sexy on anyone.  Silly, yes.  Sexy, no.) Cocks are awesome.  Panties are awesome.  Put them together and it’s my Christmas in July.  Sheer, lace, fishnet - all those fabrics that our doctors tell us we should abandon in favor of cotton underwear?  Yeah, those - a man in sheer / see-through panties can be a delight for me to behold.  And that, really, is it for required feminine attire for me.

Sometimes I feel a little bad when a cross-dresser visits my profile and hopes that I’m interested in sissies.  I’m really not.  I’m interested in men who have discovered other fabrics and colors, who realize that they can be attractive and masculine without having to limit themselves to drab clothes.  Now, if someone wants pull off the Executive Transvestite look like Eddie Izzard and even the late Quentin Crisp, I will indeed take notice.

http://blackpervertdoc.tumblr.com/post/104592655172/latinegrasexologist-happybdsm-via-black

They're still interviewing!

If you want to be part of the project, contact the filmmakers through their website:

http://truestoriesproductions.com/frames_home.html

- Byrdie, 22 May 2011

• Seattle's Center for Sex Positive Culture, which has events happening every evening
• marriage equality, where if one's union involves two consenting adults it can be formalized into a legal marriage
• recreational marijuana, for when reading up on politics stresses one out too much

Today I read an article on io9 that offered the secrets to the success of ridiculous television shows.  One of the claims is that going "balls out crazy" with ones is fine and fun so long as it follows the basic premise of the show and rules of the world.

There is something about the phrase "balls out crazy" that tickles me.  Perhaps I'm just being particularly immature, but then I can assume that about whoever it was who coined the phrase and all of the people who continue to use it, so I guess I'm in good company.

The first time I heard the phrase "tripping balls" was from a co-worker describing a particularly odd evening they'd spent.  That also brought up some odd images, and my Id cackled in delight.

Phrases like "ball-busting" and "grow some balls" don't amuse me nearly as much, perhaps because they have a less-kind connotation to them.  However, "balls out crazy" and "tripping balls" suggest a sort of haplessness that gives me the giggles.

So much for the role of the dignified dominant.

I've just made an executive decision. Submissives who wish to contact me about being lowly worms may do so, but they have to replace the term lowly worm with Earthworm Jim.  Trading up, I am.

Ah, Spring Fever has found me. Oh, my.

Bleah. I returned from San Francisco on Monday with an illness collected from travel. Given my symptoms; and the fact that yesterday - despite feeling slightly better - my temperature measured 100.5, I think I have a flu. So, yeah, I'm feeling terribly sexy right now.

I attended Midori's Forte Femme intensive weekend ( http://www.fortefemme.com/ ), which I've interested in for the past few years.  A local leather title holder once suggested that I try for Butchmann's ( http://www.butchmanns-experience.org/ ), but that seems mainly for people who identify as Leather folk and who are mesmerized by a certain set of protocols and standards. I've been aware of Leather culture for a few decades now; but while I respect it, it doesn't really call to me. Maybe it will someday in the future. It's nice to know that Butchmann's will be there if I feel the call: it'd be a lovely excuse to visit the Southwest. But I digress.

Forte Femme was perfect for me. Midori was fabulous, as always. Her TA was knowledgable and helpful. All of the students were very supportive. We started promptly on Friday night and kept going until Sunday evening. Saturday's field trips to Mr. S Leather Fetters and the new Wicked Grounds coffee house location were lovely. In the middle, we went to a secret location for a four-course gourmet dinner - catered to our individual dietary needs - served by people in fetish wear who put on little shows for us at various intervals.

So, I'm not too upset about being sick, given what I got out of the weekend. Wow. However, during my final I think that my fever flared. I had a bit of a breakdown, as my self-care instincts were at war with my timetable. If I flounced, I wouldn't graduate unless I re-enrolled and either got Midori to show up in Seattle or if I traveled to attend again. Time was of the essence. However, all I wanted to do was go back to my hotel room and lay down. With a peaking fever the idea of putting my best foot forward, keeping in mind a list of points to hit (open note test), and keeping my mind sharp seemed impossible. However, I got a lot of sympathy and gentle encouragement from the other students, was given an entire couch on which to stretch, and made it through well enough to graduate. yay! 

I can now say that I am certified in the arts of feminine dominance, and idea that simultaneously gives me the giggles and provides me with a sense of satisfaction.  I'm glad I went. I'm glad that I found ways to deal with the few challenges I faced, that I managed to go with the flow and appreciate what I had at the time, that I managed to treat myself well and change my circumstances when I could, and that I accepted offers of help when I needed it.

Occasionally I was mad at myself for not extending my trip. Then I consider how sick I am and am grateful that I went for long enough to be comfortable. I'd do some things differently, knowing what I know now, but I'd still go.

Between a useful book, helpful friends, and an informative sales person, I have managed my first evening out in heels without either lumbering, twisting an ankle, or twonking my back. yay!

Damn, these were higher than I thought. My companion tonight estimated them at 2.5" heels. They're 4" wedge heels.  Wow. I was told that I was walking okay in them and that I looked fine. I confessed that I with every step I heard the word "slut" in my head.

slut - slut - slut - slut - slut - slut ...

It was kinda fun, especially upon noticing that a tall 17 year old kept glancing at me in the restaurant. "Um, kid - I have a nephew older than you are. Stop that." Huh. Now that I think about it, maybe he was just envious of my outfit.

"Whatever happened to Fay Wray?
That delicate, satin draped frame?

As it clung to her thigh, I started to cry

'cause I wanted to be dressed just the same ..."

- Dr. Frankenfurter, The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Washington just passed a marriage equality bill. It's an odd feeling, to want to pat an entire state on the head and tell it that it did a good job. As a lifelong Seattleite, I am very proud to call Washington home right now. I'm only mildly pouty that we were the 7th state, rather than the 1st, to finally get the issue taken care of.

The Governor has to sign the bill, and then we have to defend against whatever Proposition b.s. comes up. After that, we should be good to go.

yay!

The song "sickboy" has been going through my head a lot recently. Perhaps I should look up the lyrics so that I can remember what it is I'm obsessing about ... past the "Trainspotting" character.

I just can't help but view people's teasing methods of being cheeky, naughty submissives as looking like complete idiocy on their parts. 

It's one thing if I know the naughtiness is coming, if it's been negotiated and I understand what they're up to. It's another if it's sprung upon me when I don't realize that we're either a) playing or b) playing that particular game. Inability to answer simple questions, pretending that they don't know if certain parts of their bodies are accessible ("What do you mean that you don't know if you like stimulation on your nipples? How long have you had the damn things?") and so on just make the person look like they're lacking basic intelligence to me. I don't consider stupidity sexy. It's why I don't get on with people who insist on interacting in written mediums but can neither type nor write well: not being able to present oneself well in writing online instantly leads me to consider the person less intelligent. It's not like it's impossible for someone to improve their typing and writing skills, either on their own or through local community classes.

I dealt with another "play dumber" today. Once I confirmed what he was doing, I blocked him.

I want to say that even if we never meet,  I appreciate those here who use language in order to actually communicate with me, especially those from non-English speaking countries who have taken the time to learn English well. I'm always embarrassed for my country when someone who grew up in the US couldn't be bothered to find a way to learn the national language competently before contacting me.

Today at the Domme Tea, spontaneous research showed that it is possible for a submissive to give a consistently good foot massage while having his genitals electro-shocked by remote control.

"Huh, so notch 7 is his upper limit, huh?"

My girl got her grades back from her first quarter of upgrading from an AA to a BA.  She now has a 3.47 GPA (grade point average) out of a possible 4.0

As of yesterday, she got the green light to start on hormones for her transition. Her blood work is being analyzed for testosterone levels so they can figure out how much anti-androgen and, I'm guessing, what type and how much estrogen to start her on.

Squee!

I have just discovered the unsend button for sent-email here.  Considering that there are a few messages I sent in the Spring that are no longer relevant, I think this is a good thing.

I got back from Cape Cod last night. There was this slight feeling of trying to outrun the storm, and each time we got a bit of turbulence I wondered if the pilots hadn't gunned it hard enough. There wasn't even that much traffic on the way to the airport.  *shrug*

The friend who hosted me got her family back home and all seems to fine. Hooray for getting out of Dodge!

I was happy to note that my girl was waiting for me outside when the shuttle dropped me off at some, so I had help getting my bags upstairs.  I handed her a plush cat from the Edward Gorey house almost immediately. She was amused.

Okay, I'm back from Paradise Unbound.  It's amazing what four hours of sleep a night can do to a person who doesn't usually drink coffee.  gak.

Interesting.  I can do something when browsing this site on my phone that I can't do when browsing it on my main machine.  Hmmm.  >:>

In honor of our second anniversary, I gave my girl a promise ring.  The promise?  When she's done with college in two years, if we're both still of similar mindsets, we're going to seriously discuss the concept of "forever" that we've been hinting at from time to time.  

Things could change in two years.  She's been through and will continue to go through a lot.  i'm figuring out my future. But given what we've already seen each other through, I don't think it's unreasonable to promise to have a conversation in two years.

I do not move quickly, but when I do move? I do so decisively.

My girl has thighs of mostly stone.  Holy crap!  I could only attach the zipper to her upper inner thighs.  Fooey.

Well, I tried.  And hey, I made a toy!

Wow.  Those "zipper" toys made out of thin rope and clothespins really work.  His inner thighs were pleasantly sore the next morning.  I can see why mean tops like them.  If my girl and I play this weekend, I'm bringing that out again.  

In other news, today was "buy only books written by women at the awesome local bookstore" day.  I got Diary of a Wombat and Diary of a Baby Wombat for a friend's family, the late Octavia E. Butler's fledgling, a vampire novel; Boneshaker by Cherie Priest, a Steampunk novel set in gold rush-era Seattle; and Zoo City by Lauren Beukes, which seems to be a magically-tinted Cyberpunk novel.  All of these should keep me from pouncing on the novels that will keep me company in airports and on planes in August when I'm on my way to Black Beat.  squee!

I have a new boy.  Well, sort of the way a human has a stray cat who likes their porch a little more than other people's, but still.  Good grief.  He's my age but seems so much younger.  He's new to the scene, eager and damn near shines in his energy.  He's an excellent writer, a great conversationalist, a romantic, a pain slut, gorgeous, a CSPC member ... wow.  

The upshot of this is, of course, is that I'm a little less interested in contacts through CollarMe, where being stood up for a meet & greet is somewhat common.  I've noticed that by the time I return to CollarMe, I'm very much ready to return to my community to be social again ... which invariably finds me some shiny new play partners.  0.o

I like how things work out.

What is this stuff that I see on people's profiles from time to time?  

 ------------ end ideal person --------------------------- begin topics profile ---------------------- end topics profile ------------------ begin fetish checklist --------------------- end fetish check list -------------------------- begin other profiles ----------------------- end other profiles ----------

Is there some sort of profile bank somewhere and folks keep forgetting to scrape the footers off of it?

I went to the Seattle Erotic Arts festival yesterday with my girl.  If you go today, make sure to visit the Queeriodic Table and the Electro Bike, as both were quite fun.  I didn't get any of the art displayed on the floor but did pick up some items from the festival store.

Today I may try for the University Street Fair.  I must dress for drizzle, but am looking forward to it anyway.  I go almost every year.

squee!

My girl got accepted into her goal university.  

squee!

She found out yesterday.

squee!

I'm currently reading Bitch Goddess: The Spiritual Path of the Dominant Woman, edited by Pat Califia and Drew Campbell.  It's a compilation of essays, poetry and short fiction organized by theme:

1. Goddesses Ancient and Post-Modern
2. The Sacred Prostitute
3. God/dess: Engendering the Divine
4. Bitch Ethics
5. Rites of Passage

Good grief, it's been a long time since I've updated this.

The bitable cutie I mentioned almost two years ago is almost certainly the girl who currently serves me.  We're attending the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival together this year.

I got a cutting on my left bicep last Tuesday.  Tomorrow will be the last day I plan to deliberately irritate it in the hopes of getting it to scar.  When before it was simply an impressive piece of work, now it looks downright sinister.  Parts of it have started to bleed, so I think it's getting sick of the irritation.  Still, it's impressive and I still feel like a bit of a badass.