Archive for the ‘Once upon a time…’ Category

h1

My cheating heart

September 21, 2010

Mlle. Hovary is lonely and driven to blog about it.  Please extend a warm welcome back.  The prodigal daughter returns.  Why?

I’m in love with this guy who isn’t my boyfriend.

I have sexy dreams about him in a way that does not happen with boyfriend.  The other night I dreamed I was going to jog past him wearing nothing but a tshirt and underwear.  As I got closer, I had second thoughts and wheeled around so maybe he wouldn’t notice.  But there he was, and he waved to me.  I waved back, tried to act casual, and jogged home.  I hoped he was watching me as I ran past.

In another dream, we cut right to the chase.  I kissed him and melted a little on the inside.  We took off our clothes and fucked.  He was seated and I climbed on top of him.  It was awkward, and the lights may have been on.  It probably wasn’t that good – no foreplay.  I just wanted him, bad.

He is nice, smart, shares my politics, has cool hobbies, volunteers with me, blogs intelligently, and is tall and cute in a geeky way.  And, most importantly, he is also in a long-term committed relationship.

Fuck me.

I wish he had some gaping character flaw so I’d know any relationship we had would be doomed.  Aside from any unrequited affections on his part.  Maybe he doesn’t put out.   I’d probably be unhappy even if I managed to steal him from his lady friend.  Fantasy is by definition unattainable, and the object loses its appeal if you succeed in attaining it.  The Life of David Gale taught me that.

Maybe a little fantasy is helpful.  Keeps the old juices flowing.  I was never especially creative in grade school, but boy do I have a good imagination when it comes to lusting after men who aren’t interested in me.

When I was on the rebound from dating a douchebag a few years ago, it seemed like a great idea to date The Nice Guy.  I think I made the safe choice.  Boyfriend is very sweet and would be an excellent partner if I wanted to get married and squeeze out kids. 

But I also want someone who won’t want to keep his hands off me, who can’t wait to get me home at the end of the night. I know I need to step up my game and slut it up to make things easier, but it is exhausting. Not everyone is as effortlessly stunning as Mlle. Nottibits always is. There is also nothing worse than getting all dressed up, so to speak, with nowhere to go.

I am tired of making responsible adult choices.  Perhaps it would be wrong to swing over to self-destructive choices, but they sure look attractive. I am grasping at any romantic straw to feel like sex and romance are not a farce.

What to do? All suggestions are welcome.

h1

Played with Fire, Got Burned, Whatever Whatever

January 9, 2010

It’s inevitable. In the world of BDSM, you’re gunna encounter crazies because not everyone comes into the lifestyle the way they should. Some of us are lucky enough to have that safe, sane, consensual kinky lover who opens us up and reaveals  and molds the kink there. Some, after tolerating the vanilla world long enough, stumble upon porn or literature that presents something new and exciting to try with the next partner. But alas, some – far too many in fact –  come from abuse, mental illness, usually and but also or insecurity.

I’d come across the latter before, and this was normally in the form of someone else’s problem er, I mean, partner. I heard horror stories of all kinds and was wary. But, after a number of play partners who were strong and stable, I became soft and let my guard down.

That’a how we come into the recent past where I started dating a submissive, young woman named, let’s say, Elle. In my defense, I suspected that from day one, Elle was a little insane. She called me at all hours, several times a day after our first date. She expressed being hurt that she was crazy about me but I didn’t return the sentiment…after the first date. She was frustatingly indirect and passive aggressive with me but insisted otherwise. Before our second date even, I said I was done with her because of the number of calls and demands.

But somehow we became fuck buddies – admittedly I was starved for sex at the time and happy to have a petite, masochistic body to play with. Actually, this may have been my first encounter with someone who genuinely enjoyed physical pain. I could slide my nails through her skin, bite, slap, pull and stretch her and she cried breathlessly for more. Had the craziness not persisted, knife and piercing play probably would have been in our near future. But tendencies like talking and acting like a four-year old child, jealousy, and the kind of emotional attachmant that tends toward obsession started to diminish any attraction to her.

Finally, after putting her job in jeopardy to see me and me not wanting to officially date her (or say those three words), the upper limit of crazy was reached: the insincere suicide threat. She said that she had never considered committing suicide before but, because no one loves her now,  she wants to do it. No no…I think she said “I don’t want to but there’s nothing else to do since no one loves me”  I freaked out and I talked about it with her for some time. It became more and more clear that she had no intention of committing suicide but I played along for a few more hours. At some point she left, saying I didn’t care enough about her or some such nonsense. Anyway, within five hours she told me that I wouldn’t want to see her again cause she’s crazy, that she had no intention to commit suicide ever, she berated me for not caring about her enough and finally she said that she got tickts for us to go on vacation for a week together next month.

Seriously? No. Not in your hare-brained life. I told her as much and that I never wanted to see her again. She said that as an aspiring counselor I should be able to deal with someone like her, someone with emotional issues. Never would I want potential patient and a lover to be the same person. Not ever.

So, anyway, I’m wary again

h1

I want it all

October 12, 2009

I’m in a sticky situation…it’s better than where I was but more complicated now.

M made it to me, he works an hour away and when we get together the sex is fantastic. He directs and controls and holds me when it’s needed then he holds me and kisses my forehead playfully other times. He loves me so much and I know that he flew half way around the world to be with me.

Just before he got here, though, I made a close friend with whom I get along better than even the last guy. He’s introverted and sarcastic and interesting and, worse, he’s kinky. Being an introvert and non-scene type, it’s refreshing to meet similar types as we tend to keep to ourselves. Isn’t it already a small miracle to meet someone you click with? When you both exclaim that “I like that too!!” and “I can’t believe you know about..!!” For me, when that discovery of kink happens occurs naturally in a conversation I immediately fall into lust. That feeling is overwhelming and has a scary kind of permanence in my life; it creates a bond with the person that never really goes away..thank god it’s only happened about twice, well, now thrice. So, I’m tempted to explore this budding relationship but I should dedicate those efforts to M, who needs my support and love here.

While I’m sure I can maintain relationships with both openly, I know that engaging the new guy could create some conflict in the future. I just don’t see it going anywhere positive. And can I really complain about just sticking with M? He need barely to touch me to draw out intense orgasms; the ends of our sessions usually have me begging him to stop forcing me to orgasm over and over. The immense control he has over me sexually gives way to constant doting and concern outside the bedroom. Still…I want to know what I’m missing. I’m just being greedy, I think. Maybe.

Also

I love this strip tease. It’s probably one of the best I’ve ever seen.

h1

Can’t Be Undone

September 20, 2009

I’m away from everything I know and love – sometimes I sit around and think how amazing the opportunity to work abroad is and how lucky I am. But other times…right about now actually, I’m wondering why the fuck I abandonned my greatest sources of sexual satisfaction – my bf, play partners, and toy box – just to be where I am now. I’m horny and frustrated.

So what is the title about? I’ve met a guy here with whom I get along swimmingly and have great chemistry but who has told me flat out that he has no kinks and a pretty low sex drive. Upon hearing this, I kind of cringed but decided not to be shallow and give some fooling around a go.

It’s tough to deny that the sensations from physical intimacy with someone for the first time are lovely. New skin on skin contact feels warm and tingly and exciting. I mean, generally we all have similar bits but exploring someone’s body for the first time is just so novel in its awkwardness. I think it was my neophilia that really made the experience a pleasant one because the following romps were about as fruitless (for me) as they could have been.

After a few attempts at an orgasm last night with said someone, I woke up this morning so desperate to come and downright angry that I couldn’t with this guy. The real issue though is that it’s not like he didn’t care or didn’t try…the regular run of the bases just doesn’t cut it for me anymore. I wanted so much for all the other great aspects of our relationship to guarantee sexual compatibility but it didn’t..not for all my directing or his dedication. Anyway, I don’t think kink can be undone. Frankly, the only reason I’d want it to be now is so I can get some relief during my time here.

Here’s a picture I like:

h1

Photo: Smoking in the Nude

August 15, 2009

I wish this were me right now. I can’t even remember the last time I had a cigarette…I don’t even recall really enjoying the experience all that much. Yet…amidst the stress and the unrelenting humidity that I often compare to living inside of a Hot Pocket  I can think of nothing more comforting than lounging in my undies and smoking. A cigar might seal the deal.

h1

The Blonde of My Dreams

April 8, 2009

Sometimes I have these startlingly erotic dreams that interject my regular flow of boring or just plain confusing dreams. For the most part my dreams aren’t memorable enough to survive waking and the ones that are just so superior in What-the-fuckness that they linger for days. As far as the erotic ones, the wtf element that serves as a constant in every single one since puberty has been a petite-ish nude woman with shoulder-length blonde hair.

The very first dream I had of her was the first ever sexual dream I ever had – she was laying in the middle of a white, featureless room in a very deep sleep. I straddled her waist and ran my fingers over the skin along her sides and breasts until she woke up, parted her lips and sighed as if she were still dreaming. I kept skimming my fingers over her in an exploratory sort of way and at the same time became increasingly overwhelmed and aroused. I woke up and lay in bed for a couple hours, staring at the ceiling wondering what the fuck that dream was really about.

Another memorable dream I had of her was during a sex party where she was the hostess clad in a slinky silky silver robe and slip outfit. I spent the entirety of the dream sifting through naked couples and dark rooms draped in red fabrics looking for her – she was always just leaving when I arrived in a particular room. Of course, when I finally caught her, I woke up.

The latest dream had her as mischievous headmistress type showing me a room of leatherbound books and impact toys. she wanted my help writing and illustrating a book that highlighted each of her tools. To ensure the validity of the content, she insisted on trying each of the toys on me. I agreed but sat down first to start drawing the cover…she stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders and bare breasts pressed against my….woke up.

The others I’ve had usually feature her as an extra or some sinister character. I’m not really sure what to make of them but they keep my nightlife interesting.

h1

Kissing and Telling (with sweaty kisses)

March 28, 2009

Oddly enough, I’ve been too busy having sex to post about it.

Nothing unusual for the most part; fucking lots, cumming lots, then silly post coitus discourse. I’m the one most affected but I wonder how common the giddy high is, and maybe I’m starting to suspect that it’s from the asphyxiation. Anyway,

Living with M is about equal parts pros and cons. Outside of the occasional sleepovers, I’ve never shared a bed with anyone and am clearly not used to it. The other night I found myself boiling over in silent rage as, next to me, M twisted, snored, and talked at me in his sleep. He also has a habit of feeling me up in his sleep which is sexy if I’m around 5% awake but utterly terrifying if I’ve already slipped into the REM sleep. I’m pretty sure I decked him for cuddling with me in the middle of the night which is about as startling a wake up call as I can imagine but he just Harumpfed and went to back to sleep.

There are, however, the little gems that make it all worthwhile. Everytime I change into M’s favorite fetishwear (pajama pants), he becomes very anxious to get it on and the passion with which he pursues this endeavor is something like a mad fury to grab at all my sensitive bits, sink his nails and teeth into the less sensitive ones, and really just fuck away. M is also elated to have me around so that he can shave me whenever he wants with ample time to prep and get all the nooks and crannies (all while maintaining a rock hard erection).  It’s funny and convenient that we share something of a hair removal fetish.

We still haven’t used much of anything in the toy box although I am counting on a non-stop, furied fuckfest later today…

This photo is unfortunately very reminiscent of M and I’s sessions. I hate sweat…it’s gross and clingy and not my thing. The really unfortunate part is that recently M mentioned how he just adores the smell and taste of my sweat, he likes the way it makes my skin look AND when we jokingly discussed sweat as a seasoning for food his laughs were NOT convincingly enough in a derisive tone.