Monday, July 20, 2009

I need a shot. Of whiskey. Stat.

Oh Jesus Mother Fucking Titty FUCK.

I had sex with The Poet today.

I don't have energy right now to describe the crazy event. But suffice to say that this conversation followed, a few hours later over text:

OcytocinAddiction: Can we try this over?
OxytocinAddiction: I regret the way things happened today. I shouldn't have slept with you when you were coming down from MDMA. And I shouldn't have eagerly agreed to take total control. Those first few rounds with someone new are about experimenting and playing. Not guessing what will work for most guys will work for you and pressing on.
The Poet: So what's your proposal?
OxytocinAddiction: Back up three paces on the sex. Not the flirtation, per se. But make an effort to hang out one on one without messing around.
The Poet: Agreed!
OxytocinAddiction: Maybe work on touch, massage, cuddles. During conversation.
OxytocinAddiction: I just feel like there should be chemistry. And I don't want to kill it.
The Poet: Also agreed.
OxytocinAddiction: Rationality Rocks.
The Poet: Indeed.

And a little later...

OxytocinAddiction: Thank you for letting us try Operation: Three Steps Back.
The Poet: It's OK. I like you too much to let some awkward interaction scare me away.

I will write it all out later. But JESUSTITTYFUCKINGCHRIST. Most bizarre experience of my life.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Happy birthday...

Last night I went to a joint birthday party for The Poet and his primary. The party was okay, but pretty cliche. There was a bunch of pop music blasting, a hearty round of circle of death, a plastic dildo being thrown at people, and no beer. I am not kidding. Everyone was drinking mixed drinks, vodka and juice mostly. Except me. I am drinking Stella. Mmm... beer.

Fuck ya'll, I don't give a shit. I'll drink what I want.

At some point in the evening, I start receiving texts from The Poet. :

I want to take you to the bedroom and tie you up.

I was definitely thinking about you while I was in the shower.

I love your breasts.

The texts are spaced throughout the evening, adding a flirtatious undertone to an otherwise neutral conversation.

I finally leave, around 1:30 am.

And the crazy flurry of frustrated sexual texts begins.

But it was invaluable. It gave The Poet a chance to narrow down exactly what we were going to be doing to each others bodies in the near future. It seems like he really wants a "game plan". Probably to be sure that he is doing something that I want.

The Poet's first priority: The D/S scenario that he came up with in response to a text that said I wanted marks on my body to reflect the sexual passion I feel during our conversations.

The next time that he comes over to my apartment, I am going to lead him to my bedroom. Without touching him, I am going to stand in front of him and strip. When I am completely naked, I am going to tell him where I want marks on my body. Where I want his mouth to leave bruises. Where I want his nails to leave scratches. And he is going to take his sweet time leaving those marks. Only after all the marks are laid am I allowed to touch him. At that point, I am going to kneel in front of him and perform oral sex on him. When he gets close to orgasm, I will stop. And he is going to jerk off on the marks. On the bruises his mouth just left, on my tits and legs. Then I clean myself with my hands, wiping up his cum with my fingers and licking up every last drop.

I literally trembled when I read his texts describing our first rendezvous.

One of my first priorities is some rope play:

I am on my knees, with my back to him. He binds my hands behind my back using rope. He then pushes me forward so that he can enter me from behind. I can feel him against the back of my thighs and my ass, feel his hands on my body. Yet the only glimpse of him I can get is over my shoulder. He uses my hands, and the rope holding them, to control and lead my body while he is fucking me. Eventually, when he is close, he is going to pull out and come on the small of my back. After taking a minute to recuperate, leaving me tied up and vulnerable, he cleans my body. Only after all the cum has been wiped from my skin does he finally untie me.

We also discussed where he is allowed to cum:

OxytocinAddiction: I would love for you to cum on the small of my back and on my breasts.

The Poet: Would you mind in your hair? I've never been with anyone with hair as short as yours.

OxytocinAddiction: As long as we could shower together and have you wash my hair afterwards. Does that sound reasonable? Although I love the idea of you using my body and coming on me, and sometimes I could lick it off or clean it off myself, having you fuck me and come on me and then clean me is fucking hot. Sort of like the idea of you untying my restraints is almost as hot as you tying them.

The Poet: I completely agree with both.
We are just animals. Lifeforms that come from the lineage of bacterium and slugs. The thing that puts us on top? The ability to dominate. To conquer.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Meeting Harry Potter...

My late lunch with Harry Potter went really well. He is obviously an amazing guy. Working hard to propel himself through school. He is finishing up at the local community college, and then transferring to a college in a nearby town to try earn a degree in mathematics and physics. He obviously loves science, and really GETS that passionate drive for knowledge.

We went to a local restaurant and talked for about an hour. I learned more about him. He is currently working as a barista at a Starbucks in the area. He loves philosophy, and obviously knows his way around a debate. He reads, and can discuss what he reads.

After lunch I took him down the street and introduced him to a used bookstore in the area that is absolutely amazing. It was great to see the awe on his face when he walked into the giant mecca of literary geekdom.

Unfortunately, The Poet's friends and primary were in the bookstore. You know... it happens. But it was awkward to run into the primary of the guy I want to fuck, when going on a first date with a guy who obviously is "bring-home-to-mama" sort of material. Welcome to my life.

At least The Poet wasn't with them, right?

Overall, the date with Harry Potter went relatively well. The physical aspect of our interaction was odd. He looks a heck of a lot like a twenty five year old Harry Potter. He is skinny, although what he has on him is muscle. We hugged at the start and end of our interaction, and both times I could feel his ribs, his bones. Yet there are certainly sparks there, if they were encouraged. I was very aware of his body whenever we were standing near each other.

Yet... I don't know if I want to settle back into a vanilla relationships. And this guys eyes got big when I joked about an Eiffel Tower. So I don't know how begging him to tie me up and tease me would go. Or how willing he would be to use toys on me. Or if wanting to go down on The Magician when he was in town would cause a ruckus. =(

We are going to hang out again. I am not sure when yet, but hopefully it will be sooner rather than later. Yet... hopefully it will also give me enough time that I can figure out what to do with The Poet.

A lunch date with Harry Potter....

This afternoon I am going to have lunch with a guy I met on OKC. Super nerdy. Hearts astronomy. He is an atheist. I am super excited to have a chance to sit around chatting with him.

The problem?

He seems super vanilla. Perhaps not. But he comes off like "missionary-with-one-or-two-other-girls".

More worrisome... in every profile picture he looks EXACTLY LIKE HARRY POTTER.

What can lunch hurt, right? We will see how it goes.

In other news... The Poet might be coming over before my lunch date and his party. We spent a long enough period talking about it that I am pretty worked up over the idea.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Texting plans for sex...

OxytocinAddiction: I am very tempted to text you asking you to come and tie me up and fuck me tomorrow morning/noon, before my date and party and before your party. I am resisting, but tempted.

The Poet: Why not just ask?

OxytocinAddiction: Will you come over and do dirty things with me sometime between now and tomorrow at three, when I have to go back to being a mature adult? ;)

The Poet: If I can get some time away, Yes. Anything in particular you want?

OxytocinAddiction: No. Lots. I am sure we can figure out something that will please us both. Basically, I have a date with a great, yet vanilla, guy tomorrow. And then I get to spend the evening playing poker with Americana grad students. And I really just want good sexual contact with someone who gets how that life isn't satisfying. :)

OxytocinAddiction: If you end up being busy, it isn't like this is a one time offer. Just really craving carnal contact right now. :)

The Poet: What toys and accessories do you have?

OxytocinAddiction: In town I have little. The safe parts: Lube, condoms. A vibrator. Most of my straps and ropes went away with someone a while ago. :(

The Poet: This is terribly sad, since most of my toys are currently inaccessible.

OxytocinAddiction: Does a lack of toys imply a lack of pleasure?

The Poet: No. I just prefer to be wellarmed.

OxytocinAddiction: Is there anything you aren't allowed to do? Within the confines of your relationship?

The Poet: What do you mean?

OxytocinAddiction: I don't fall asleep with men I don't consider my primary. I have met guys who can't use certain toys or participate in certain acts. Just making sure there weren't restrictions that weren't discussed.

The Poet: I can't spend the night out, other than that no.

OxytocinAddiction: Well, sounds like we have similar guidelines, and ones that should not apply here. :)

The Poet: Indeed. To be honest I would prefer if you took the lead.

OxytocinAddiction: Took the lead or took the position of top? Two slightly different things. And to clarify... plain vanilla play with no toys or ropes can be plenty hot.

The Poet: Lead. I'm fine with top or switch. I just would prefer you take the initiative.

OxytocinAddiction: I am fine with that. I am pretty much a switch, although being all tied up is something I couldn't go a lifetime without. :)

The Poet: How opposed are you to play objectification?

OxytocinAddiction: I am okay with trying anything at least once with a new partner. Although my experience has been poor in the past. Anything specific?

The Poet: Not really. I like verbal reinforcement though.

OxytocinAddiction: Like I said... I get noisey. But that verbal response can be directed however you like. ;)

The Poet: Noise is great. Saying exactly what you like and directly me is awesome as well.

OxytocinAddiction: I share the sentiment. Communication makes for great play. ;)

The Poet: Good. Just so you understand I'll really need you to take the lead and communicate often the first time, till we can get a feel for each other.

OxytocinAddiction: As long as you communicate back, I think you will find that I have no problem with communication or going for what I want. I just have to be sure I want it. Which I am pretty sure of at this point. :)

The Poet: Then go for it.

OxytocinAddiction: Now I just have to catch you. :)

The Poet: Then you should create a proper lure.

OxytocinAddiction: I already set out games of Scrabble, pretty good conversation, plenty of flirtation, and a direct request to come do dirty things with me. Plus, I am relatively cute. If that doesn't work, I am running low on tricks. ;)

The Poet: Relatively?

OxytocinAddiction: Well the cultural beauty standards don't love the buzz cut.

OxytocinAddiction: I was hotter with the mohawk. :)

The Poet: I believe it. Though you definitely don't look too bad now. :-)

OxytocinAddiction: I am glad you don't buy the cultural/gender beauty norms. It makes luring you in easier. ;)

The Poet: Meh. I still think one of the most beautiful things in the world is a woman bound.

OxytocinAddiction: I still think I feel sexiest when bound. So that works well.

The Poet: What are your feelings on masks and head coverings?

OxytocinAddiction: Never tried them. And at some point you have to laugh.

OxytocinAddiction: Blindfolds have proven fun in the past, though.

OxytocinAddiction: Honestly... I am up for almsot anything you can through my way. But I will tell you if I am not. :)

The Poet: Night.

OxytocinAddiction: Night.

The Poet...

During a text message conversation with The Poet the conversation turned to safe words.

He asked if we might need a safe word. I tossed out "police", which he thought was too scary. He tossed out "Darwin", which was endearing. But something about using an idols name as a safe word seems just... wrong.

We finally settled on "Leviticus". Sobering, and something that should turn us both off pretty quickly. And certainly something I don't scream too often, even in my everyday life.

The Poet: So when can we Play? :-)

The Poet is a very new acquisition to the party. An attempt to upgrade the sex I am losing with The Dragon's departure, while keeping the drama of a real relationship out of my life.

We met, and instantly there were cognitive fireworks. The man can keep up with me. In some arenas he can run circles around me. He corrects my grammar. He beats me at Scrabble. His approach to religion reflects my own perfectly. He understands the importance of standing up for social justice issues.

And The Poet is HOT. In that big-fuzzy-metalhead-with-tattoos-and-piercings sort of way. He makes me feel warm and tingly in that way that only a man who stands 6'3" and could toss me around like a rag doll in bed is able to.

He also is in an "open relationship". Which is a plus, in that I know he isn't going to be crazy possessive of me. However... Although their relationship is "open" it is an odd open where it is more like they have given one another tacit permission to cheat. Which could be drama down the road.

The Poet came over last night. My roommate worked at ten, so we were playing scrabble. I am a moaner. A screamer. And having a first tryst when a roommate is nearby seems poorly planned. But the air was certainly weighed down with intention.

Until his cellphone started vibrating. A friend was having problems, and needed his assistance. Ten minutes after roommate leaves for work, he has to go. We are sitting on the couch. He reaches over, pulls me across his lap. His hands searching, hungry. His breath hot against my neck. Arms pulling me closer, as if he wants to absorb my small frame into his chest.

My body is ready instantly. Trembling. Wet.

And then he gets up, and goes. As a good friend would. But... god damn.