26 05 2009

X: you suck. it’s part of your job

Z: oh really? what is my job?
X: my little whore
Z: and what’s my job description?
X: you should know that by now
Z: i’m a bit fuzzy on it….
X: your job description is to do everything I tell you to. to service me in any way I ask you to without question or complaint


I can’t even describe how hot that line made me. It brought to my mind images of gagging on his cock, my hair firmly in his hand as he made sure I took him as far down my throat as I could. And him stroking my face when I pleased him, the hand in my hair no longer needed to guide me and force me to do what he wanted.

I have issues with control. I need to control my life. I stress about things I have no control over and sometimes I have breakdowns when I feel like things I had in control are suddenly out of control. It’s not pretty. And I don’t know if it’s odd or normal that I so willingly give up control in the bedroom. That’s not to say I’m not aggressive in bed, I just have submissive tendencies. It might simply be X. He’s the only guy I’ve been with more than once and who has had a dominant streak. X turns me into a pathetic, begging little whore. He’s not forceful all of the time. But the times he’s gotten extremely aggressive are memorable. Picking me up by my thighs and throwing me onto the bed? Check. Denying me orgasms until I begged and pleaded? Check. Fucking me into submission? Check.

I like the feeling of being not in control. I like being bent in half. I like  being spanked. I like being bitten. And part of the submissive part of me is also a bit of a pain slut. I hate pain when I’m just going about life. But during sex? X can smack me around and I fucking love it. There have been a few times where he’s been fucking me and I’ve been tempted to tell him that I dont care if he bites me so hard I bleed. Frankly, I think that would be fucking hot as all hell.

And right now, I wish he was here to bend me over a bed and have his way with me.

But on the flip side, I do like being dominant. And I have more than just a little bit of a bratty side when I’m not feeling totally submissive. A few weeks ago was actually the first time I was dominant with him that I felt like I did things ‘right’. I’m almost afraid to be dominant. Because when I get aggressive, I want to hurt people. And I know X isn’t into pain. So the biting, scratching, spanking, hitting of any sort is a no go. Which leaves me with very little to do. So I’m always a little lost feeling when I’m doming him. Which I don’t like. Which is why I prefer playing the submissive part.

I wish I could figure out how to be a better dom than I am. :(


17 05 2009

I hate to do this, I really do.

I’m just letting all you, my readers, know that I’m not going to be posting a lot for well…..I’m not sure……..There are various reasons behind this.

  • I’ve been fighting an uphill battle with my grades since I was 12. I get them under control, sometimes I can’t. This semester got out of my control….I’m on suspension at my university….I’m allowed to petition but I have to build my case to be let back in the fall. I’ll be focusing a fair amount of free time on that because I can’t not be at school. It’ll destroy me.
  • X and I have been fighting a lot. And it’s not like I’m innocent as I tend to say things that I really don’t mean or else things that I say just to be nasty when I get angry with him. But he’s not innocent either. His patience with me is less, and I feel like he picks the fights sometimes. (He’ll yell at me for this one. It’s a FEELING hun. Not an accusation.) Like tonight. I told him to drop something. He didn’t. He bugged me and bugged me until I finally told him. And then he got pissed at me for my thoughts and my opinions. Now I got mean around there because I hate being forced to say something I know is going to cause a fight. Bottomline: He got pissed at me for something that flitted through my mind and that I wasn’t ever planning on mentioning, and only mentioned because he wouldn’t drop it. Fighting like that last whole days. And it drains me. I don’t think he gets how much it drains me. My mother saps enough emotional greif out of me everyday that even a little fight with him seems huge because I’m so just tired of feeling like I’m a shitty person.
  • My sex drive is fucked up. In two-ish weeks I’ve only felt like getting  myself off one day. This is odd for me. When there is a lack of sex, I’ll usually get off once, sometimes twice, a day. When my sex drive is fucked up, I find it hard to write about sex. Make sense?
  • I think I’m getting depressed again. All the above factors plus being home and away from my friends leads to 10hours of sleep a night plus 2-3 hours of naps during the day. I can barely stay awake some afternoons.
  • I just need a break.

I’m prolly gonna be posting the occasional reveiw or short rant or bit of fiction. But I can’t promise anything right now…

2 Years. Almost.

8 05 2009

Friendships are hard.

I can’t even begin to measure the amount of tears I’ve shed because of you, or over you, or just simply to you. And yet I never leave or give up. I stay long after many people would leave. Even when I try to leave I just end up sobbing on the phone, begging you to come back. Something keeps us together. It could be the platonic love we have for each other, our similar core personalities, the fact that we make each other crack up, or our mutal geekness. In all reality, I think it’s just because we’re insane.

We click. We have from the first day we met. Yeah, okay. You thought my friend at the time was cuter, but you wised up and figured out I was so much more awesome. By like a bazillion times. Haha. Though I think I might have infuriated you that night. (Slightly indicative of our future relationship maybe?) I proved your point better than you did. I will stick to that till the day I die.

I crushed hardcore on you in the coming months. And who wouldn’t? You were tall, skinny, hot as all hell, funny, witty, intelligent and you seemed to like hanging out with me. I liked this. Though I didn’t like the girlfriend bit. I pushed it to the back of my mind. We talked a lot and hung out. I liked it.

The one drunken night I asked you to come walk me home from a party. I wasn’t THAT drunk but you attest that I was. I was mostly asking because I wanted to see you and I wanted to see if you would actually do it. And you did. We walked back to the dorm and eventually one thing led to another and we madeout. And oh my god I think I was addicted right there and then. We made out for 2 and 1/2 hours. I think. That’s what I remember.

The rest in between and how I dealt with my feelings for you to get to where I am now will be written about another day because it’s late and I’m lazy. But we started sleeping together a few months and/or weeks after the first makeout. I debated long and hard about if I should let you take my virginity or not. I spent a week or two deciding. And in the end, I felt comfortable with you. And that was the most important thing. As we started sleeping together regularly, I started to become a different person. Not because of the sex but because of the confidence you fostered in me. And I thank you for that.

I think this post is more about this year though. Because last year was the year we fostered our friendship. This year was the year we faced the problems and had to deal with what was thrown at us or stirred up.

And fuck. It was hard. We fought. Over and over and over again. And over pettier and pettier things. Like the explosion about who was going to do the dishes. And just stupid, stupid, stupid things now that I look back on it. And I think we were just spending too much time together. We knew everything about our daily lives and we fell into a routine. That was the problem. We did the same thing every week. Hung out at the same time. Ate the same two or three foods. It was poison for us.

Because when you felt things got too clingy, you tried to push me away. The routine was disrupted. I was thrown for a loop and I reacted poorly. I didn’t get what was going on. Suddenly I was feeling inadequate. I was feeling unwanted and unimportant. I knew I was your best friend, but part of me always worried it was just the sex. And another part knew exactly how you were with girls and I didn’t understand why I was different and why you hadn’t gotten bored with me. I think you’ve noticed I need things like that explicitly spelled out to me. Because too much doubt creeps in if that doesn’t happen.

Now? I don’t doubt my position as your best friend. I don’t doubt that I’m important to you. I don’t doubt that you love me (not romantically of course. haha).  I don’t doubt that we can work through whatever shit we have to deal with. We’ve fought to keep this friendship going for almost two years now.  We’re not giving up on it now.

Even though sometimes I want to. I get so upset and I feel so hurt that I don’t want to deal with it anymore. I don’t feel like fighting for it anymore. I want to give up because it’s easier. And I can just tuck it away into one of the little compartments you’ve begun to get me to make, and I could forget about you. We walk away from each other and I’m resolved. I’m done. I’m so sure I can just let everything go. But I always find myself picking up my phone. I call you and tell you to come back. I text you and say we need to find a way to fix things. And we always do.

Summer is going to be good for us. We can detox from each other. We can let all the tension and resentment and anger and unresolved little things melt away in the three months we won’t be seeing each other.

And when August rolls around we can hang out like best friends again. Not as often as before. But still in the same way. And hoepfully we can be happy again. Because in the end, that’s all I care about. I want us to be happy.


2 05 2009

I am drowning.
Drowning. Drowning. Drowning.
The water is all around me and I am drowning.
So slow. I feel fuzzy and buzzy.


The water is hot as I turn my face to the spray.
Life is so simple in that moment yet oh so complicated.

I am drowning.
Can’t breath.

The spray is hot around me and I sit.
The floor is cold, the water is hot.
Contrasting viewpoints on the nature of reality.

The water is all around me now, running through my hair and down my face.
Artificial tears from artificial rain.
And I am drowning in that moment.
All the lines are blurred.

My eyes, half-lidded, stare at nothing.
I am drowning.
Drowning. Drowning. Drowning.
So slow. So perfect.
Cold and hot.
Silence except for the sound of tears that aren’t tears.
I am drowning.

So perfect and so wrong in that moment not breathing, not seeing except for the sense that I am drowning.

And please don’t save me.

[This was written roughly two years ago. But it reflects how I'm feeling right now so I thought it was appropriate. This was actually written about a moment of slight existential crisis I had one summer when I came home slighty buzzed and took a shower.]