Welcome back!

I don’t remember the exact context of the first time that Mr. Vanilla said this to me. I just remember that, as with subsequent utterances, it has produced significant comic relief.

It has become tradition now that whenever I complain about anything (an ache or pain, too many papers to grade, the state of public discourse in civil society) that Mr. Vanilla helpfully offers a nice boob grope to cheer me up and get my mind off my troubles. Increasingly, I’ve been taking him up on the offers.

Let me tell you. He is a nipple teaser of the highest order. Strong hands, long fingers, and a seemingly hair-trigger grasp on the finer nuances of applying pressure.

In my life, my nipples have been tortured, caressed, clamped, sucked, and licked. This is the first time in my life that they’ve been anything to write home about, though.

It seems, however, that he has a direct buzzer from tits to clit in the form of my nipples. So, if I haven’t been entirely clear in my answer to the question posed in the title, “Yes, it helps greatly.”

Most people that read this blog know that I have an intense relationship with music. My podcast started out being about sex and music and the level to which I sexualize music is pretty clear if you listen to episodes of it. But, I’ve never really written about the stumbling blocks I’ve had with music through the years.

When I met C in 2002 he was my destined to be my first for a lot of things. One of the fundamental pieces of our early romance was music. It was a love affair conducted via file transfer and mixtape. His excitement for me was carried with outpourings of new sounds and arrangements I’d never imagined before. I learned to use music to love and to share music as an act of devotion.

When C and I broke up, this left me in a peculiar place. Plenty of couples have a few songs that they consider “theirs” and of course those songs can, in turn, bring back either wistfulness or painful memories. The problem with my relationship with C is that music was such a big part of it (he a record label owner and club DJ and me being a radio DJ) that it wasn’t particular songs that reminded me of him or even particular artists, it was music itself.

Melody and lyric had been the language that we loved each other in and thus they were too painful to hear when I lost him. This might sound dramatic and silly but it was a reality for me. I was ruined on music for awhile. When Jay and I fell deeper in love I wanted to share it with him but painstakingly picking through my music collection was still too raw. Instead I brought an external hard-drive to his house and dumped a few gig of my library onto his computer and let him sort it out for himself. It was heartless and impersonal.

Finally, years out from my breakup with C, I am falling in love again. This time it isn’t bittersweet because Jay and I cling together, steadfast in our dedication to each other and our life together. He is my cheerleader in my new, fragile loves with Michael and Ariel. And I am, in turn, his. The greatest revelation has been that music has come back to me.

Driving home from visits to see Michael and Ariel, Jay and I found ourselves singing silly love songs at full volume. As I opened my heart to many loves, it opened to old and new melodies to express them in. Every song was about me and I’ve never been so grateful for being a trite cliche.

So, here is a mix CD that they got in the mail from me yesterday (a few tracks are missing because they weren’t on Grooveshark). It is a lot of silly love songs, inside jokes, swelling melodies, and love.

We have been home from Dark Odyssey Summer Camp for two weeks now and I haven’t said much about it. I’ve been processing my thoughts but I have a list of posts that I want to write about the experience. A lot happened there. I met Wendy, a longtime blog friend that is even more awesome when you get to see her in person. I got to spend time with my dear, sweet Viviane who is one of the most comforting and lovely people I’ve met in a long time. I also got to meet many new friends and take classes and workshops with remarkable presenters and educators.

Despite the plethora of experiences that I did have, I am going to start with one that I didn’t. A gangbang.

It was Sunday afternoon, laying around in the pool, that I got the idea that I wanted to have a gangbang. Just by merit of timing, the idea was already ill-fated but Jay tried to organize it for me. Needless to say, most people had pretty full dance cards and getting that many cocks to convene in one place at camp was, well, not going to happen.

But, in the spirit of better luck next time, let me tell you a bit about what I have in mind.

I want to be violated by multiple people in a way that is really quite beyond my control. I first got a taste for this during our playful threesomes with Ian. He and Jay often pin me down and tickle me and molest me. It is fun and sexy and I struggle, giggle, and moan. But what if I screamed and cried and begged them to stop? It could go either way. The reality is that I have two tall, strong men pinning me down and doing what they want to me.

I got to thinking that I really love this, the feel of my muscles straining against their power. Knowing that I can’t get away, can’t stop it from occurring. The ability to let go because there is nowhere else to go. Sure, I’m a rope slut and I like bondage of all sorts but actually being restrained by another person, unable to fight them off, is a totally different thing.

Suddenly the attention is divided. I can’t just think about the hand mauling my pussy or the teeth biting my nipples but instead have to focus on the fingers wrapped around my arm, squeezing tight enough to bruise. Or perhaps the knees pressed against my thigh, forcing my legs apart so that my unwilling wetness is revealed. And they can’t just focus on what they are doing to me, their animalism has to come out and it becomes just as much about the struggle as the sex.

The idea of multiple people making this happen for me, taking turns pinning me down and keeping my subdued while their companions touch me in every way they can imagine is an overwhelming urge. They can be faceless and nameless. I could be blindfolded or not. The details, the humans involved don’t matter. I am interested in arms and hands, mouths and cocks just as they should not be interested in me in this moment, just my sex, just what my warm and wet holes can offer them.

Fantasies like this are scary to some people. The lack of consent is alarming. There are feminists that would have some choice (or perhaps condescending) words for me. But it is mine and I own it. And I look forward, perhaps too eagerly, to the day that I can make it a reality.

In literary studies there is a concept of writing “for the drawer”. It refers to writing that was done in a historical period or within a socio-political situation that did not allow for it to be published or even openly shared. Some of the greatest literary works produced in early Stalinist Russia were not published until 30-40 years after their initial inception.

People like Andrei Bely, Mikhael Bulgakov, and Anna Akhmatova had important things to say and vivid artistic expression that simply could not be expressed. Their ideas were not just unpopular, they were dangerous to the government. And, the simple knowledge of the existence of these writings would have been sufficient to cause them and their entire families to be imprisoned or killed. Writing for the drawer was a political reality and necessity.

People still write in this way today, but not for such dire reasons. The cloak of anonymity that most bloggers maintain is significant but sometimes even it isn’t sufficient. What if I told you that even on an anonymous blog, the community that exists is enough to cause some to self-censor?

If anonymous blogging is already writing for the drawer and this blog is a space for my most personal and difficult thoughts, then where do I write down the things that I can’t even say here? One solution is personal friendships. I have a friend that frequently sends me emails with pieces of writing and a subject line like, “I can’t blog this”. Sometimes he is correct. For social reasons or political ones or just “good taste”, he really can’t. Sometimes I convince him that he is wrong because I know his subject line is a challenge to both of us, of course he “can” blog it, but will he?

Me? I don’t even commit these dirtiest of thoughts to words in a publishable way. I may talk about them with friends or even allude to them on Twitter but the simple act of stringing words into sentences and sentences into paragraphs seems very risky and final to me. If I write and I don’t publish, I am admitting that the thoughts are unpublishable. And if I don’t publish the unpublishable, what am I doing here?

So, my challenge to myself and to every other reader, writer, and sexual being out there is to think about those controversial thoughts. The ones that are too provocative, too infuriating, too risky for even your anonymous self. If you’re brave, you’ll share them in the comments, if you’re braver you’ll commit it to posterity in some way.

I’ll be writing a series of posts that reveal these thoughts and ideas. They won’t be comfortable and they won’t be nice but they aren’t written in the spirit of burning bridges but rather in the hope of forging difficult and painful connections through honesty.

• I can’t believe how exhausted I still am after 10 hours of sleep. Holy crap I have a lot of email. #


• Google Reader just says 1000+. . . Thinking I should just mark all read and move on with my life. #


• Adding camp people to my Google Reader account. Reid Mihalko. . . so fucking dreamy ;) #


• I am completely useless. I have so many sex toys to get reviews out for. Tried some at camp ;) #


• I like that every time I look at the sunburn on my boobs I think of the fun I had in the pool this weekend. That was lovely. #


• And I have to say that sunburned nipples are not as bad as they sound. I have more sensitivity and they are hard all the time. #


• @scarletlotus Thanks babe. Yes, just slightly owie. My tan is fabulous – I was so naughty about not wearing sunblock but I don’t burn badly. #


• @amberlrhea Wow, seriously? Why? #


• @HisButterfly I just need a volunteer to lick them and blow cool air on them. #


• @writingdirty Nice! I hear there are some pretty beaches to photograph in the South ;) #

• @eternal42 won one of the vibes donated by @edenfantasys . Friskiest pet! #


• On the way home from camp and making a long toy wishlist! #

• Just finished a fun sensation scene that I co-topped with Jay. Later I am working in the "brothel". #


• The brothel was amazing. I can’t believe how much it was like phone calls with clients. #


• Spent much of the day so far lounging in the pool. Looking forward to Lolita’s class on ageplay in a bit. #

• Evening included chore duty and a knife scene. There was a cherry! Tommorrow Jay and I are getting mummified together. #


• Just watched a game of butt plug ring toss. Today is beautiful, I hope that the weather holds. #