April – Where I attended Sex 2.0 and had a fire lit under me. I started a Twitter account, got involved with FetLife, and relaunched my podcast. I finally realized that I was part of a community and felt like I belonged.

May – I started reviewing products on my podcast and blog for VibeReview.

June – I spent a lot of time thinking about sex work in both text and audio forms. I also got sort of pissy and ridiculous about blogging and met Artemis Hunter for the first time.

July – I had my first freelance work published in The Naughty American and dug up some old camwhore shots. I also experienced a bit of heartbreak, but it turned out a great piece of writing if I do say so myself. I also got tied up by Artemis and finally hooked up with Carmine who had previously only been known as “cross-dressing law student“. Finally, I began publishing the Musings on Masculinity series.

August – The biggest news and one of the happiest days of my last several years was telling my dad about my “secret identity”. I’m still basking in the joy of that moment as I remember it. Also in July, Jay and I got to know Hania much better.

September – I was named #5 on the list of the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2008 among started a bajillion other projects. We also went to Dark Odyssey Summer Camp which was a watershed event for me despite the fact that I haven’t talked about it too much. I also presented at the Fetish Fair Flea Market and got to meet Catalina and Marky for the first time.

October – The posts slowed down and the earth stopped moving because something remarkable happened. We met Ariel and Michael and fell in love and my feet still haven’t touched the ground. At first I could only express the feelings in music. But. . .

November -  . . . soon I found more detailed words and images to express my thoughts. I captured the unique sadomasochistic relationship that Michael and I have developed as well as the experienced of being fucked by Ariel for the first time. And the sexy gave way to the mundanely profound as we found ourselves forming a type of family, broken hollondaise and all.

December – Ariel starts lending a hand with reviews and I think that the format suits this site. Jay and I also visited New York and saw tons of the friends that we met through the year. I also spent a sedate Birthday and Hanukkah at home with my new chosen family.

However, Catalina and Marky are amazingly cool people and both brilliantly fun, smart, and sexy. Know how sometimes when you are meeting someone for the first time it can be weird and you get uncomfortable because they aren’t exactly what you expect them to be? Well, this was *not* one of those situations.

On Saturday they both attended my class along with a small group and I got to have a great conversation/workshop with some lovely people about how to improve communication in their relationships and share fantasies with phone sex. After my class, it was time to go shopping since that was what the Fetish Fair was about.

Jay and I saw tons of cool stuff from some great vendors but we were most swayed by the amazing assortment of canes from The Kink Shop. We picked out three pretty thick ones and I can’t wait to try them out.

Our friends Liz and Alex had come to see us at the Fetish Fair and after we got our canes, Liz ran up to me in a gorgeous under the bust corset. She hadn’t been wearing it when I saw her just a few minutes before and I quickly complimented her on it. So, just for kicks, she said she would show me the vendor she had got it from.

Bear in mind that I had absolutely no intention of buying a corset. They are certainly gorgeous but it seemed like a lot of money to spend on a single item of clothing. However, the owner of Passional was really lovely and sweet and cinched me into a few just to try them out. This brings me to my tutorial on how to get your boyfriend to buy you a corset. Just follow this simple procedure:

Step One: Try on corset and let boyfriend see.

Congratulations! You have just successfully gotten your boyfriend to buy you a corset. I wish I was kidding but Jay’s hand was on his wallet before I even made it to the mirror. Sure, it was a lot of money to spend but he rationalized that it was a gift for both of us. So, how does it look?  How about you tell me.

More pictures are right on Flickr.

Jay and I went shopping today. The plan was to buy some new shoes but I ended up trying on bras and tops. I like what this one does for me. In fact I like it so much that I think I’ll go take some pictures with just the bra.

Today is the last day of camp activities and it promises to be a full one.  I’ll be attending classes on flogging among some other topics related to pain.

I’m starting to realize that I like thuddy pain more than stingy pain but I still want to learn how to use a flogger. What kind of pain works for you?

In honor of ouch, here are some of my favorite posts about erotic pain (more specifically, spanking):

Thoughts On Spanking

A Reluctant Spanking

Sometime during a procrastination break, I find myself telling her about my sexual proclivities and my phone sex work. She smiles and asks a lot of questions. Then sho bowls me over by revealing that she used to do phone sex work while she lived in London. Here I thought that Hania, a Syrian, might be free-spirited but was another oppressed middle eastern woman. My prejudices were obvious to me almost immediately.

The next week, she came over to our house for a potluck. When the rest of the guests left, she didn’t and the three of us talked late into the night.

I can break the nearly 24 hours we spent together into distinct moments, all of them characterized by arousal and many of them by a distinct longing.

***
She is on my couch and we are discussing sex (what else?) and it is 4am. I am falling asleep and I also desperately want to reach out and touch her. Her breasts are over-spilling her shirt and I think she knows this and doesn’t fix it on purpose. I can even see the top of one dark areola and I try not to stare too much.

***
After a conversation on rope bondage, she agrees to be tied up. The morning sunlight is streaming into the guest room and her hair is wet from the shower. I nervously apply the katana over her clothes. Her chest is still heaving in the shirt she was wearing the night before. Despite the intimacy I nervously apologize each time I brush against her but she looks at me angelically.

In a bold moment, I show her what the Japanese refer to as dishevelment and pull the top of her tank top down to reveal her pink bra.

***

I am in her kitchen and she thrusts a porcelain dish under my nose, “Smell!”

“Za’atar?”

“Yes, you know it? My mother sends it to me”

Three days later I find myself in my own kitchen, mixing a batch of the pungent spice blend. Sumac, paprika, cumin, and thyme. I inhale it deeply and remember her.

***

I am sitting on her couch and and she is reading my fortune from the grounds in my Turkish coffee. We are leaning our heads together and I can smell her and I want to cry because I want her so badly.

***

Last weekend we saw Hania again. She had spent a month out of town and was emailing me and calling me several times a week just to talk. I knew she wanted us but I was so nervous. For now, I’m treasuring that night and keeping it to myself. You, dear reader, can enjoy the same anticipation that I did. Hopefully by the time I write the rest of the story, she will have given me permission to publish the picture of her in my ropes.

Want to know what Jay was thinking through all of this? His version was posted this week.

If you’re interested in more (actual professional) rope bondage images, I wholeheartedly recommend Kikkou.com. They feature authentic Japanese rope bondage.

Well, today is my birthday and several important things happen on my birthday every year.
1 – No one gives a shit because that drama queen Jesus is having his birthday also.
2 – I try not to take myself too seriously.
3 – I want someone to give me spankings.

So, this picture sort of encompasses all of those emotions. First, Jesus never wears a thong, so he isn’t as deserving of your birthday attention. Second, my cat is silently judging me while I attempt to take this picture. I could have cropped that out but it was too hilarious to edit. Third, spankings, get on top of that!

* I just discovered Balthazar B, Man of His Words. This man seems quite brilliant and sexy and wonderful and not updating for the past few weeks. I hope he comes back because finding a hot new blog that is already a dead old blog is so depressing. . .

* A bit of a dialogue has formed between Melissa Gira (aka, Sexiest Podcaster in the World) and I on this question of “fake women.” Touch My Blog has stepped into the discussion with this post. And while not directly related, I think that the Female Mysogynist is weighing in on the issue as well when she writes today about the “anti-feminine feminist bitch”.

* I’ve been desperately searching for Chanukah porn and the best I have been able to find (despite the hysterics of this article) is at the Yarmulkebra Website. Looks like I’ll be making my own, I can’t believe no one has tried to serve this market before!

Last night I spent some time at the laundromat and while I had a magazine with me to read, I forgot to grab my notPod on the way out the door. For this reason, my mind was left to wander as I folded my laundry. I realized a few amusing things:
a. thongs can’t be folded, there isn’t enough fabric to do anything with;
b. there is no fully logical pile of garments to sort a dildo harness into, slipping it in with the bras will have to do.

However, the primary thing that I noticed is that my balance of sexy/cute panties versus boring/plain ones has decidedly shifted. When I started seeing my boyfriend, C, I owned exactly zero pairs of sexy/cute panties. Seriously. In fact, it never even occurred to me to get any – I didn’t think I was sexy or cute, why should my panties be? This means that I didn’t have a single pair that didn’t come in a 6-pack wrapped in plastic. The most daring deviation from this standard were a few pairs in pink.

The first time we fooled around, it suddenly struck me that I was wearing ridiculous panties for the occasion. I was embarrassed and apologized to C; he assured me that he didn’t care and I was dreadfully sexy. I wasn’t yet in a place to believe this. However, after that first weekend together was over I asked him if he would like me to buy some sexier underthings. He insisted that it wasn’t *necessary* but admit that it would be nice. Those first purchases were very tame and from JC Penny (no joke!) but he was transfixed by a particular pair of sheer backed, lacey, black briefs I chose. They are still his favorites out of my entire underwear collection. It is a comfort to think of all of the times that I have felt his hands caress my rear through that specific piece of thin material.

As I folded laundry, I kept the panties in discreet piles, dividing them between sexy and non-sexy. When I was done, the cute underwear won out by a landslide. I realized that the last time I purchased white cotton briefs was 10 months ago when I was preparing for a trip to Turkey and a new 12-pack seemed comforting and logical. The remaining pairs from that purchase seemed sad and weak compared to the tantalizing pile beside them. There were full-lace boy shorts and low cut briefs with various silly patterns (Superman, Hello Kitty, unicorns, butterflies, flowers – even a polka-dot pair that bears a striking resemblance to a Blogger template). And there were the new additions, the thongs, that I am getting increasingly comfortable with.

It seems silly to measure myself against the vibrancy and diversity of my panty drawer. Aside from being an incredibly consumer-oriented approach, can I really say that my sexual awakening is manifested through these eye-catching bits of fabric? Oddly enough, I think I can. In the past 6 months (roughly since the start of this blog) purchasing these sorts of panties has become a given, I don’t really consider the boring ones anymore. Additionally, I have stopped wholly considering my boyfriend when making the purchase. There was a time when I couldn’t wait for him to see new underthings when I got them – I guess I wanted his approval. Now I have come to a place where I certainly love showing them off to him but it doesn’t seem necessary. I can enjoy these pretty things for myself because I am comfortable in my own skin.

The first time C licked my pussy, he had to wrestle white granny panties out of the way for access. The most recent time, he slipped his fingers under the lacy waist band of a black thong and teased my clit with his tongue through the thin panel of sheer material covering my pussy. In the 3 years that have transpired between these two instances, it is clear to me that not just the panties have changed, but also the woman inside them.

I recently succumbed to my curiousity and purchased a few thongs. I’d never worn one before and didn’t think I wanted to. Then I saw some on sale and they were the type with the thick band of lace all around. I thought they were sort of pretty and the price was right for an experiment. I started out by trying them on. I don’t really care for how they look in front, I prefer a bit more coverage. However, I can’t complain about the effect they have on my rear. I was pretty pleased.

Now, plenty of lingerie might make my ass look good. However the true test is whether I can bear to wear it all day. I normally wear boycut briefs on a daily basis. A thong is the opposite of that. I’ve been wearing my trial thongs on occasion over the past week and am experiencing mixed results. Sometimes, I like the feel of them and the lack of panty lines. Other times I feel like I have a strip of fabric up my ass. I think this feeling originates from the fact that I do have a strip of fabric up my ass. There is a chance that I might get used to it or perhaps I purchased a flawed set of thongs.

Those of you that wear them regularly: Does it get easier? Am I missing something?

Oh, and in case you’re wondering about the picture. In honor of liberating my ass from the thong for today, I thought I would present you a picture of it with nothing on it at all.