Ginger figs

I just love Spankboss, I learn groovy stuff over there almost weekly and he really seems to love Bethie, which makes a man ultra attractive to me, that level of devotion.
But that's all just intro blather to bring up something we just learned from SpankBoss, the glorious, the fascinating, the ginger fig! The links at his site have given us a new game to try.... the stores are open today and we have a shopping list, handy, that, too, as sushi is always on the menu here anyway!

Has anybody actually done this?? If I don't hear before we try it, I'll report back on ALL our findings. The One ponders the possibility of tasting the ginger in my mouth, which is kinky beyond imagination... ginger channeling, yeow~~!

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24/7

We've been together for almost 2 years and living together since summer. Daily life is a grind, the kids, the jobs, the household to run. It's not *bad*, but it IS very different from meeting up in a foreign city and working each other to near exhaustion and only stepping out for sushi or vegetarian Mexican feasts accompanied by fishbowl-sized margaritas. And Houston is a VERY kinky town, HUGE gay and lesbian population and gigantic Scene. Trust me, if you ever get to Harris county, make the trek to Leather in Exile, you will thank me later.

Here The One says, "Be careful what you say about your hometown." And it reminds me that being born just blocks off the Montrose is probably what's wrong with me... I'm really a gay man trapped inside this woman's body.

Needless to say, I was happy to have him home, but childishly angry with him for having gone and had fun without me. He was verbal about his desires, he wanted me naked, in his bed, as soon as I got home. I was prickly and touchy, non compliant and edgy and mouthy. I admitted that I wanted to say things that I knew would make him mad and goad him to hurt me. Upon reflection, I think I was needing some kind of reunion, something huge to celebrate his coming home. He urged me to say them, but I feared he would get so upset by what would come out of my mouth, that he'd stop fucking me, which is really what I wanted, no matter what kind of smack I was talking.

I don't think I've ever seen him mad, not MAD, irritated, but not angry, so even that may not be the right word. Because I didn't say what I knew would inflame him. No matter, we had amazing sex, brutal, on-his-demand-butt-sex that he accused me of wanting, and I violently denied it, he took the cues famously once I put them out there. We are truely lucky, even our missionary, vanilla, Baptist-friendly sex is awesome. This was kink-famous and not soon forgotten. I could not have mail ordered from Blowfish.com a more compatable lover.

But later, I had to throw out there, how does one let the other one know one wants to play, ROUGH? Saying, "I want it extra nasty." kind of takes away from it and makes it scripted from the very beginning, and that is NOT extra sexy. And you can't be Big Daddy Leather Bear all the time, its just not possible at our house (for God's sake, the kids are here every other week). We joked about "The Nasty Code", and how it sounded like a child with a speech impediment talking about his recent illness. But I was serious.

We didn't have any big resolution, no pacts for kink awareness training, but it's out there. This morning, I was mouthy again, with "You aren't the boss of me" being my best taunt. To which he cleverly replied, "O yes I am, I'm the boss of all the deamons inside you, my dear."

Its so very different living this way, with this man. I'm SO glad he's here, and its so good... I just don't want to lose that *thing* we had in that hotel in Asheville, the one with the wax.... the one who probably reported us to the North Carolina state police. The one where we played so hard he had to ask later, "Are you sure you aren't hurt?" and the cute chuckle he had when I shook my head and grinned, "Nope, but I'm sure you can do it harder next time."

It's Thanksgiving in America today. Holidays are something I fantasized about having with this man. Apron, pumps and pearl-wearing, picture perfect American holidays. I really don't think it's too much to want Easter Sunday to morph into Big Daddy's chamber of Hell after the dining room's empty and the kids are tucked in. We just need to figure out a way too convey what we want. And how to muffle the sound that carries through the air conditioning ducts.

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Random Stuff ... As Usual. ;)

Not necessarily on topic, although posts of late jumped this to the front of my head and I thought I'd flop this up here.

I recently went to my second "play party" ... or munch ... or something. I'm not exactly up on my BDSM terminology yet, so bear with me.

Now, I think I learned more about BDSM ... or 'the lifestyle' ... in those four hours than I have after years of looking up crap on the web.


First let me say that it was a very well organized event, with experienced persons walking around to make sure that everyone was performing their public play within the rules.

I saw needle play (AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!), knife play with a different couple, flogging, caning, and other assorted things.

I also had the opportunity to watch someone EXTREMELY gifted with a bullwhip. Let me explain the bullwhip for a moment... They can be of varying sizes, lengths, and other assorted things, but the mechanics of one are nearly identical. There is a hard handle, then there is the long, tapering whip part (usually made of braided lengths of leather), and then there is the 'cracker.' The cracker is (usually) a piece of sturdy, but rather lightweight, string at the very end.

Here's a picture.

When used correctly (and sometimes incorrectly, unfortunately), the string at the end of the bullwhip makes a loud "crack!" sound ... most people agree that this sound is the cracker breaking the sound barrier. Also, the longer the bullwhip, the harder it is to control. The more length that one has to worry about, the harder it is for someone to recognize what a bullwhip is going to do.

That's fast, right? Now, it's only a piece of string, but think of the damage that can be done with something like that. Just for a minute.

Now think of letting someone you know do this to you.

Yeah, me either.

But a friend of mine asked the person to use the bullwhip on her, and he did. And she LOVED it. It was a very intense scene, but she loved every minute of it. The man who was using the bullwhip was very careful not to push her too far, and really knew what he was doing.

And as I was sitting there watching everything ... the flogging, the spanking, wrapping, other assorted things ... I was absolutely entranced. All of these things were amazing to me. But there was one reason why the whole night didn't leave me squicky; all of these people enjoyed these things. Trust me, there were sounds aplenty to let me know that.

And it's the same with me. I love, love, love, love LOOOOOOOOOVE getting caned. I have welts, bruises, and lovely pain in my tushy for a week after ... and there are times when I sit and look at the marks in the mirror and admire them. [On a side note, I mark beautifully. *strut*] I especially like it when T gives me a particularly good welt, then leans in close and pinches the crap out of it. I'll moan and mutter my 'no's and 'ow's ... while I'm pushing my ass against his hand and my pussy's getting wet.

Besides which, as has been pointed out to me more than several times with good humor, 'no' and 'ow' aren't safe words. ;)

But not everyone likes stuff that's that intense. They can read that paragraph above and think to themselves, No FUCKING way ... she's insane... And if someone asked me to explain why I like that, I couldn't really tell them. I've never really been physically abused, and I don't have a complex. I just LOVE it. And I really shouldn't have to explain it.

My point is (OMG, she has a POINT!?) everyone likes different things. Some people, a few spankings while they're getting fucked is more than enough for them. Some people, dirty talking and soft play is enough for them, and they'll never like anything stronger. And some people like to have a bullwhip used on them until their ass looks like a piece of modern art.

And THAT'S OKAY.

But to judge someone else on what his or her kinks are ... it's unfair. Just because I look at someone doing knife play and suddenly feel the need to hide behind a tree doesn't mean that it's bad or wrong ... it just means it's not for me.

And who's to say it won't be in the future? BDSM is partially about pushing limits and exploring new things. If someone had told me three months ago that I'd be getting wet while someone was telling me, "Okay, three HARD in a row..." while standing over me with a 1/2 inch rattan cane, I would have told them that they were out of their fucking mind.

The only thing in the above that I'd like to stipulate is the three (horribly repeated) words that are always supposed to be present in any BDSM scene: Safe, sane, and consensual. As long as those three principals are followed, then -anything- should be okay. The only problem with that is there can be different definitions to those words for different people. But if it's maintained within a scene, and the people involved trust and know each other well enough, then that's all that matters.

Of course, there are those who have no idea what they're doing, but that's another post.

And, of course, I'm a 'lifestyle' and BDSM baby, so I could just be talking out of my ass. ;)

Right now, I have to get to bed, or I'm not going to be worth crap in the morning. Flame away in the comments if you feel frisky. ;)

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