What I Want for Myself

This was written a while ago, and just rediscovered.  I should add that I am now married to the man I was dating when this was written, and I have a boyfriend (albiet long distance) that I care about very much.  I still have many of the same fears--of my primary relationship getting boring, of getting caught up in lust and NRE, and being abandoned.  But I am working on acknowledging these fears and then letting them be, rather than letting them consume me.  Some days they totally and completely still do.  Other days, I feel free and am able to bathe in the complete and utter awesomeness that is loving and being loved by two very different and wonderful people.  Oh yeah, and it's lots of hard work too! ;) More to come on that!

11/27/11

I want TO HAVE THE COURAGE TO SPEAK MY MIND. I want to feel honored for my thoughts and feelings.  I want to be respected at work and in society.  I want to know that my sexuality is not dirty and meant to be used against me.  I want to be strong.  I want to have the courage to stand up for myself and trust my intuitions.  I want to say “No” even when it is hard.  I want to find a way to be myself in this world, as a woman, a writer, a mother, and a sexual being. I want to be free of sexual and emotional abuse.  I want to be a healthy role model for my daughter.  I want her to know that her body is beautiful and that sexual pleasure is not dirty.  I want her to know about safe sex and have the courage to say “No” to men if she doesn’t want to sleep with them.  I want to support other women in their struggles to freedom and womanhood. 

Fuck equality.  Men and women are not equal—what does that even mean?  Men and women are different, and have much to learn from one another.  I want to learn to love and respect other women and not simply be jealous of them, which just perpetuates the cycle of female hatred and oppression.  I want to believe in myself, and trust that I will be okay, no matter who does or does not love me.  I want to stand on my own two feet, trust myself, and follow through on the things that I want and believe.  I want to make choices that are empowering in my job, personal life, and sexuality.  I want to choose my relationships, and when to have children. 

I want to live a life where I feel that I am doing more than just going through the motions.  I want to make healthy choices and take care of myself and my body, even though it seems so much easier to take care of others.  I want to live a life that engages me deeply, both in and out of work.  I want to do something that I care about.  I want to make changes in my life, and in the world.  Grandiose, I know.  But what is the point of being alive if we just exist and then die?  Shouldn’t we do something while we’re here?  I really don’t know the answer to that one.  Sometimes I think that I push myself too hard to be something in the future, and I miss what is right in front of me.  Sometimes it is better to just simply and fully be in the present, rather than trying to be something profound in the future. 

I want to learn to let go of the belief that something is wrong with me and that bad things are my fault.  I want to see myself as strong and beautiful, even though I am not perfect.  I want to educate myself and my daughter about ways to be active in the community and connect with other women.  I feel safe with women. 

I do not feel safe with men because it all feels about sex.  Either they want you, or they don’t, and the first can lead to rape and abuse, and the second to abandonment.  And I am afraid to be without a man.  I used to like being single.  It was lonely, but I could do what I liked all the time.  And there was the allure of new relationships.  I love (d?) NRE.  I was addicted to the attention and the hormone rush.  I suppose it is because I never felt beautiful unless someone else told me I was. 

So there’s the exciting beginning of the relationship, and then the guy is either a clingy freak because he is loser (but on the upside, he wants to keep you because you’re the best he’s ever had), or he is actually a really decent guy, and then you just begin the process of becoming bored and losing interest in one another.  Then you just have the same kind of sex, fantasize about other people, and so it goes.  It’s more friendship at that point.  I don’t know—is that super cynical of me?  I think that people need each other, especially when trying to raise children, but romantically and sexually, things die out pretty quickly.  And that scares me.  I feel like that destroys the fabric of traditional relationships

I used to be so jealous, because I knew that my boyfriends were looking at other girls, and thinking about them when they fucked me.  It felt like it was because I wasn’t good enough.  Now I know that biologically, everyone does this at some point or another, and it wasn’t personal.  It just still hurt.  And I would get bored too.  The sex would get routine, and I’d have to fantasize to be able to have an orgasm.  So in a way, that’s what brought me to polyamory.  The idea that you could be into multiple people—well, we all know it’s true (I think fantasies and affairs illustrate this)—was nothing new. 

I was just tired of it being this dirty, unspoken secret, where you felt dirty for wanting someone, or worse, had an affair.  So I wanted to confront it in the open, and see if there was a way to share, to learn about myself.  I also thought it was stupid to just abandon people you care about because the sex is no longer hot.  What if you could have different relationships with other people, and what if these relationships fulfilled different needs and made the other relationships easier?  Now my boyfriend can just be himself, and doesn’t have to bear the responsibility of meeting all my needs.

At this point, we don’t actually have other partners, so I am learning to simply embrace this mentality, regardless of real partner actuality.  I am learning to let go, and let things be as they are.  If we have sex, great, if not, okay.  I just need to learn to love myself without the approval of others, and then it won’t matter what others think, or whether or not I am successful.  It might be harder to make ends meet, and I might have to make other choices that are difficult, but maybe then I won’t feel as though my life is at the mercy of others—particularly men.

Cupcake Sex

It's not even my birthday (my birthday)

But he wanna lick the icing off. (icing off)

I know you want it in the worst way. (the worst way)

Can't wait to blow my candles out.

He want that cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake

(Bet ya wanna put your name on it)

Uh, baby I like it,

I'm so excited.

Don't try to hide it,

Imma make you my bitch.

Cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake

(bet you wanna put your name on it)

I know you wanna bite this,

It's so enticing.

Nothin' is like this.

Imma make you my bitch.

-Rihanna, "Cake"

 

You've never had anything as sweet and intoxicating as this pussy.  And I love to tease you with it.  You come over for that “cup of sugar” more than you've even admitted to yourself.  Today, you snuck off from work and called in sick, all because I have you wild for my pussy.  I slipped a pair of wet pink panties in your mailbox the other day, teasing you with the musky scent of my sex. 

 You can't bear to be parted from that little thong, carrying it stuffed into your pants pocket, pulling it out whenever you need a rush.  You've caught yourself rubbing my sweetly perfumed panties over your swollen dick in the company restroom.  Without thinking, you had them out, dangling them over your mouth and nose on a conference call.  Just thinking of me makes you rock hard, but the smell of me makes you cream your shorts instantly.  And all day you have to walk around with cum soaked pants, completely helpless and under my spell, craving some nasty fucking with your hot, voluptuous vixen...

After all humiliating yourself at work my creaming your pants and rubbing my pussy scent all over your face and fingers....which you then use to stroke your dick or shove up your tight, eager ass, you get your pathetic self on my doorstep.  You stand there and ring the doorbell, cock practically bursting out to greet me, panties crumpled in your sweaty hand, hoping to get lucky and have your taboo fantasies come true.
I answer the door, and the sight of me makes you brace yourself against the door frame, overcome with arousal.  I am a vision in black--black sheer lace stockings caressing my soft thighs, a garter belt drawing your eyes up to a black silk g-string.  My taut belly is adorned with nothing but my little stars, and the little diamond dangling from my navel.   Your eyes lustfully travel up my skin to my full breasts cupped by a black bra with lace in between the cups.  You watch my breasts rise and fall with my quickening breath, and notice my perfect, pink erect nipples pushing through the fabric of my bra.  Your cock is now completely obscene and you reach down to free it from your pants, but I slap your hand away.  You pull back stunned and hurt, but even more aroused than before.  You can't help but wonder if my clit is as hard as my nipples. 

I pull you inside and force you down onto a chair--you're about to get the erotic education from the Goddess you so desperately crave.  As you sit, cock bulging and breath quickening, you notice some rope beside the chair.

"Miss?" you ask, "What is that rope for?  I just wanted to fuck you....I don't understand..."

I pull the musky, worshipped little thong of your hand and shove it into your protesting mouth. 

"Silence!"

"Mmmmph"...you murmur, struggling against my dominance, but distracted by the perfect breasts before you.  You sigh, and realize that you are in big trouble....

You relax your body into the chair even as your cock grows harder still.  You realize the irony of the entire situation, you with your huge man-dick, muscled body and strength are helpless in the hands of a little goaddess half your size, about to get what you deserve. All of your strength is as nothing before the power of a true vixen, a Sex Goddess fully in control of her divine sexuality.

You close your eyes as you feel the rope cutting into your flesh.  I straddle you and press my burning fire pussy against your hardness as I reach around to tighten the knots. You writhe in agony, bucking up into me.  I unbutton your pants, and pull out your throbbing cock.  You moan and try to thrust into my hands.  Looking at you devilishly, I toss back my fiery curls and laugh wickedly.

SMACK! right on your hard cock!

You wince, and your cock bounces back up to attention.  You're sooooo hard. You've needed this taboo phone sex so desperately.  As I dismount, I let you bury your head in my tits only to tilt your chin up to me and <SLAP>you full in the face.

You bite hard on the panties shoved in your face and struggle against the bonds of coarse rope. But I'm no BDSM amateur.  You're not going anywhere.  You're going to watch...

Moaning into the panties, tortured by my scent, you stare lustfully as I perch upon a wooden chair in front of you, and push open my legs.  Your eyes devour the vision of my wet panties clinging to the slit between my legs. 

I tease myself, rubbing the silk fabric over my swollen pussy, fingers rubbing harder as they find my erect clit.  I pull my breasts out of my bra to squeeze my hard nipples, licking the soft flesh of my full mounds.

I reach over to a plate of cupcakes that you somehow hadn't noticed before.  It couldn't have been the fact that you were transfixed by my perfect tits and wet ready pussy, could it?  Well, you're in no state to get any, all tied up over there!

I grab a cupcake, covered with mounds of pink icing, and seductively lick the icing off, tonguing the sweetness with my perfect mouth.  Mmmm!

I slide my panties over and begin to finger my wet pussy as I lick the sprinkles off the cupcake, driving you wild with the sounds of my wetness.

Dipping my finger into the icing, I reach down and rub the sweet frosting on my clit, and shove my finger deep in my pussy.  You're drooling onto those panties in your mouth at the sight of me fucking myself with that cupcake.   I start pounding my swollen pussy, and stop only to lick the icing and pussy juice off my fingers. 

I grab the cupcake and shove it on your dick!  You utter a muffled cry of surprise and arousal.  I begin teasing the head of your cupcake cock, enjoying the taste of sweet saltiness, teasing you even more.  If you liked the taste of this candy sweet goddess, keep reading my blog! ;)

Tease and Denial--The Exquisite Torture of the Goddess

 I know how hot I am.  In fact, since I first developed breasts and these killer curves, I learned something very powerful: that I can control men just by letting them look at me.  That’s how I got into the exquisite experience of Tease and Denial sex.  So I let them look, but never touch.  Even in grade school, wearing my short skirt, tight blouse, and knee-highs, I noticed that my male teachers would get the strangest looks on their faces, put their hands over their crotches, and excuse themselves to the restroom. I really didn’t understand what was happening until later, when I was alone with a teacher for extra tutoring, and he suddenly pulled this huge cock out of his pants!  I was shocked, and even more surprised when I felt a hot wetness between my thighs.  I grabbed my books and ran out of the classroom.  I couldn’t stop thinking about it though, and found myself teasing my pussy later that night.  The power trip over my teachers, over all men, was just intoxicating.  Boys used to say I was a tease, just for the way I looked—but they were just frustrated because they weren’t getting any of my hot, sweet little cunt.    If you’re ever so lucky as to be prostrate before me, I’ll tease you to no end, bending over, putting my hot wet pussy in your face, and pulling away before you can taste me.  I’ll make you watch me play with another sexy girl, and lock your cock up in a chastity device so that your orgasm is mine.  You’ll watch me cum and cum and know that I won’t allow you the pleasure.  I’ll drive you wild with desire, and then leave you hanging.  Maybe after a few training sessions, if you show me that you’re obedient, I’ll allow you some release.  But for now, you’re helpless under my spell. 

Submit to the Goddess

Oh little slut. Shut up and get on the floor. Don’t even look at me. You don’t deserve the absolute pleasure of gazing upon my beauty. You’re here because you know what a useless, pathetic slut you are. You try to hide what a little sissy slut you are, but I know the truth. You are my sex slave. You can’t hide your need to be dominated by me. As soon as your trembling fingers dial my number, you belong to me. The possession has already begun. With other girls you do your best to play the part, fucking them missionary style, like a good boy. But I know you’re bored. And you can’t stop thinking about my voice. I am inside your head, just like that toy you have shoved up deep into your helpless ass. Because you can’t say no to me—and let’s be honest, you don’t want to. You can’t get enough of your new addiction---you’re hooked on the Goddess who makes you her slave. You’d do anything to be owned by me during our regular BDSM training sessions. In fact, I’ve got you shopping for the naughtiest things! Hot pink panties, silk blindfolds, big toys to fill your needy little ass, anal beads, and more. You can’t stop thinking about your Divine Mistress and fully surrender to me—even when my voice isn’t seducing you on the other end of the line. Because I’ve got you baby. You are totally and completely owned. You know you can’t fight the urge to submit to me any longer. Your pathetic life will never be the same. I’ll have you wearing panties, licking pussy, and getting all your holes filled in no time.