Sexuality Happens

I am so behind on posting this, but it needs to be posted. My apologies for missing the boat (but you can still do stuff about it, so don’t ignore it).

I’ve been discussing this with friends (hence, why I forgot to post it – thanks to my friend for forwarding the info below to me!), and it’s really angered me. I think about how far we’ve had to drag the APA in the last 50 years, getting them to take homosexuality out of the DSM, etc, and for them to then put someone who believes that homosexuality IS SOMETHING THAT CAN BE CURED on the committee to discuss Gender Identity Disorder and the DSM? Um, hi, WTF mate?

Now, I’m not 100% sure on where I stand about keeping GID in the DSM vs. removing it completely. Shocking, I know. But I have reasoning behind this (some of which was discussed in my Clinical Issues in the Transgender Community class). While I don’t think that GID should be seen as a mental illness (and I do understand that having it as such can lead to all sorts of problems getting insurance coverage later on in life), having it as something that can be diagnosed opens up many doors for some transpeople as regards to insurance. Some insurances will pay for hormones if a client is diagnosed; others won’t continue to even pay for therapy sessions unless a client is diagnosed with a mental illness (such as, oh say, GID). So I don’t think it should be a mental illness, but I also don’t want people to lose insurance benefits because it is removed. I think maybe they should make a special subsection? For things that don’t need to be cured, but still need medical attention (therapy) and support from insurance companies. Yeah, I know that will never happen, but that’s my solution.

Anyways, regardless, having read a bit of his work (K has my book with him in it right now, but I’ll post the name of it when I figure it out…), I think he’s an asshat. In a major way. He believes in reparative therapy for homosexuality (and GID), and is really just a pompous idiot (in my own humble opinion, of course). And the APA has appointed him to head the committee on inclusion or exclusion of GID in the newest version of the DSM. Um, hi, WHAT THE FUCK? Worst idea EVAH. He’ll probably try to het homosexuality put back in!

Below is info a) on his appointment, and b) what you can do to take a stand. Please, be an ally, a SOFFA (not the comfy kind…unless, as a person, you are comfy), a member of the community (any community for that matter), and speak your mind. Once a decision is made by this committee, it may take decades to change it; let’s do what we can to make sure it is done ethically, and with the best interest of the trans community. Do what you can, and please please please repost!

That’s all. *steps off soapbox* Have a rocking weekend!

-Essin’ Em

Significant and potentially damaging change has recently taken place within the American Psychiatric Association (APA.)

A few days ago the American Psychiatric Association announced the name of a new member of the DSM-V Task Force. The DSM (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) lists diagnostic criteria for mental disorders, including Gender Identity Disorder (homosexuality was removed in 1974). The APA appointed Dr. Kenneth Zucker to chair the Sexual and Gender Identity Disorders Work Group, despite his history of advocating that queer and trans people (especially youth) can be “cured” through reparative therapy. In short, Dr. Zucker believes he can “turn” LGB people straight, and “help” transmen & women remain in the gender they were assigned at birth.

The disturbing significance of this appointment cannot be overstated.

So what can we do about it?

1) Sign a petition objecting the APA’s appointment of Kenneth Zucker. You can find that petition here: http://www.thepetitionsite.com/2/objection-to-dsm-v-committee-members-on-gender-identity-disorders

2) Email the APA at dsm@psych.org to let them know that Dr. Zucker’s appointment is not just a mistake, but could lead to long-term, negative consequences for the LGBT mental health community.

3) Talk to mental health providers, as well as your family and friends; spread the word!

So we’re at this fancy schmancy resort (don’t ask me why I have tens of thousands of dollars in student loans, and we’re staying here…)…and our “suite” is huge. About 3 or 4 times the size of my apartment, the kitchen is way nicer, and it has a washer/dryer AND a dishwasher, two things I don’t have. Balcony, fancy furniture, snazzy fixtures, you know the drill.

But the best part? The bathroom attached the room my sister and I are sharing. Oh Em Gee.

Firstly, it’s huge. Not as big as the bathroom off my mother’s room, but still huge. And the floor and walls are all blocks of granite. It’s just beautiful. There is a toilet (of course), and then a counter with a sink (black granite with hints of pyrite or micah sparkles), and then the shower area. I say area, because it is more than just a shower. We’re in the handicapped room, and so there is no bath, but a HUGE double shower.

It’s a whole section of the bathroom (maybe 3′ x 8′?) that is sectioned off by glass (including a glass door) that goes down to the granite floor. There are rails on 2 of the 3 walls, and a small seat. One shower head is movable up and down the wall, or is removable, and has the adjusting spray. The other is a few feet away, and comes straight out of the ceiling.

Ok, so it just sounds pretty, right?

Well, I am horny as fuck, and I can’t masturbate because my sister and mother are always around, and I’m still bloody wired from last Saturday, so basically, everything turns to sex for me. The sink counter is the perfect height for someone to bend me over it, and fuck me from behind, and I could watch both of us in the mirror.

It gets better. I’ve spent hours considering what I could do in the shower.

First of all, someone could bend me over, make me grab onto a bar, and fuck me that way. Or I could rest my head on the bar as I got fucked. We could do some sort of interesting sitting thing on the bench part, or I could suck some cock. One shower head can be taken off and turned onto high pressure…anyone been to WaterBondage.com?? Yeah, the shower head in my bathroom growing up was my best friend. Talk about forcing some orgasms.

And then there is the granite material. It feels lovely on my nipples in general, but when I pushed my body up against its cold surface in the midst of all these steam? I think I almost came right there. I can just imagine my body pressed against it, someone’s body up behind me, having their way with me.

Fun fact: when my nipples are hard, which they are almost constantly right now, I can actually right things with them on the fogged up glass. Yeah, I know, I need to get over this, but seriously, this is the best bathroom for sex EVER.

And I’m sharing it with my sister. *awkward turtle*

So basically, when I have my dream house, I need to build a bathroom with a similar set up. Except maybe two removable heads, a bench built into the wall, and hooks coming out of the wall for bondage purposes. It’s only going to cost me two arms and a breast.

Me: I’m just an acquired taste.
My sister: No…*I’m* an acquired taste. You’re more than that. It’s rare that people like you…but then they really do. Kind of like eating cockroaches as a delicacy.
Me: You’re saying I’m a cockroach??
My sister: *Silence*

So I’m chilling in Florida with the family until Sunday, when I fly back home to Philly. Tomorrow, I’m so excited to get to see Miss Avarice and her lovely partner tomorrow!

I finally heard from my friend who just got his top surgery done in late April/early May. Congrats to him. He was telling me about how he was washing his car with his shirt off for the first time ever, and how wonderful it felt. I’m so happy for him. I can’t imagine being in such a situation, but the closest I’ve got is being able to run, or climb a few sets of stairs, or something like that. To finally have something work for you; your body and your mind more in synch. I mean, I know it’s not the same, but it’s the best I’ve got. I am happy and proud, and all those things.

It’s interesting what people think about me and what I’m doing with my life. My grandfather thinks I’m going to be a psychiatrist…I can’t quite tell him I’m going to be a sex educator, so we’re working on “counselor/educator” as a correction. My aunt’s trainer asked me if I was a licensed therapist…I told her no, more into outreach and consulting (because until I find a job, that’s really what I am).

I saw the new Indiana Jones movie with the family today. It wasn’t very good (IMHO). It started off ok, but without giving any spoilers, REALLY? Writers, wtf were you thinking?

My bruises are finally beginning to fade. The last few days, my ass has been black and purple, slowly beginning to mottle. Today, they were more red, with a ring of black, and the outside edges are starting to become yellow. Quite pretty, actually. Is it weird that I’m kind of sad to see them begin to go? I mean, they probably have a few more days – a week of some color, but it’s just like derby bruises. I like having them (except for the “damn it, how do I cover my ass at the pool” issue), and I feel (like my old derby bruises) that I kind of earned them in someway. They are marks of good memories; an intense hit, a nice block, a bite in a scene. But then again, I cherish all my scars too; they’re part of me, a history. From riding an exercise bike at a friend’s party to being hit in the head with a baseball at an MBL game to my surgeries to burning myself while cooking hammentaschen, they all have a memory behind them.

I’m also horny. I know, big news, but like seriously horny. Remember last fall, when I didn’t want to think about/talk about/write about/learn about/have sex at all (due to the lovely Topomax)? Well, it’s like the reverse. Everything I hear sounds like sex, I saw a skink (lizard) humping the sidewalk (whereas my sister said “oh, look, he’s doing push ups), I’m reading about it, writing about it, and cruising everyone between the ages of oh, 18 and 80? (that’s a LITTLE exaggerated). I’ve even posted an ad on CL. Shame shame, I know :) I mean, it’s hard enough being like this, but I couldn’t bring a vibrator, since I’m sharing a room with my sister, and doing stuff by hand doesn’t do it for me. I’m eying the massaging shower head in the bathroom…hmmm. Flashback to being 12-15. The plane ride home is going to be killer (I always get really horny on planes for some reason…).

One of my readers was at the Submit party…and she didn’t say hi! I knew she was going, but as at a disadvantage; she knew what I looked like, but I had no idea about her. Moreover, apparently, she DID see me. She and her friends were some of the peeker-overs from the next area. I guess I’m really loud. I never thought I was (and compared to J, I am actually quite reserved), but K and this reader tell me I am loud, so I guess I can’t argue. Also, it’s probably good I was only bitten twice, and didn’t have anything incredibly painful used on me (and only came twice); I don’t want to scare the kinky people…that’s a bad sign.

Totally random thought; I remembered the day I discovered I could bite my own nipples. That was a good day.

Also random: I was informed by K that his fourth finger went into me far before I thought it did. This clinches it; I will get fisted in my lifetime, preferably sooner rather than later. I refuse to be resigned to my fate like my friend Captain Cunt, the Hoodless Wonder. I am the Voracious Vulva (oh god, that was a horrible HNT pic!), and I will not be beaten (except when I ask for it, and it is consensual, and then carry on). We talked about it, and he had a good point about it being my first time, and I agree. Especially when one is expecting it, it is hard to “make” your body relax, even if you want it. I think once I am fisted once, future fisting will be much easier. It’s like having PIV intercourse…it took me forever to “lose my virginity” even though I didn’t want it to be a big deal, and once I did…well, bad comparison. I never liked sex with him. But anyways.

Ok, I’m getting loopy. I need a shower (with or without the massaging showerhead)and bed. Like woahfuck. Sometimes I ramble; I need someone on the side of the stage to cane me off (and I mean pull me off the stage with a cane, not hit me with it).

Last side note; a well know BDSM author is coming to Philly for a talk (which I am going to – yay!). He’s also teaching classes at a place where my friend works, and he may need a volunteer for his rope bondage class, and it may get to be me. Cross fingers please!

Ok, really done now.

-Essin’ Em

So the elevator in this hotel talks. It tells you the floor, it says “lobby,” it says “going up” when it’s going up, etc.

This also means that if you decide to descend in the elevator, it says “going down.”

Which I found hilarious.

To the point when (keep in mind, I was tired) I was riding it down with my family, and this snippet of conversation ensued:

Mother: I am so sick of this elevator talking.
Elevator: Going Down.
Me: I wish! *laughs*
Sister: Huh?
Me: Hell, if I had a full service elevator, I’d ride it all day long.
Mother and Sister: *blank stares*

Sigh. Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore…

Photo by Ken Norcross

People make assumptions based on their own experiences. Our own backgrounds and experiences really color the way we see the world.

Take my tattoos for example. I had VERY specific reasoning for each one of my four tattoos. However, people see them in whatever light makes the most sense according to their experiences.

My newest tattoo is of two people embracing, rising out of the wrought iron curls. In the real world, it is situated evenly on my back; I’m at an odd angle in this picture.

When I got this tattoo, it took me forever to find the perfect actualization of my concept. I wanted two people in each others arms…but I didn’t want it to be either two women, or a man and a woman. In fact, I wanted them to be genderless. Granted, the one in front may look more feminine (ponytail?), but they’re meant to be genderless and sexless. Just two people loving/lusting after one another.

Right after I got the tattoo, I was at a party, wearing a backless dress to let it heal (no bra). Two or three (straight) friends came up to me and said “I though you wanted it genderless; what made you decide to get a man and a woman instead?” I thought that odd.

Then, a month or so later, I was at Dinah Shore 2008, a lesbian party event. I had no less than 5 different women come up to me and tell me how much they adore the tattoo of the two women embracing on my back. Again, odd.

We see things through our own lenses. The straight people saw a man and a woman, the lesbians saw two women.

My flying pig has nothing to do with “When Pigs Fly,” but that’s the phrase people know, and so that’s what they assume. It’s actually a memorial for my dad.

“Not all those who wander are lost…” helps me to remind myself that even when things change, and I make new plans, new goals, etc, that it doesn’t mean I’m backtracking or am losing myself. It’s from the Lord of the Rings books. I have people asking me if it’s from Harry Potter, from the Hobbit, if I made it up. Some people have asked me if I was a runaway. Others have asked me who it is a memorial for. They see it, and process it through their filters, and those are the assumptions they make.

Everything is in the eye of the beholder, not just beauty. Even tattoos :)

-Essin’ Em

So when I was 17, we had this conversation:

Me: I just wanted to let you know that I’m bisexual.
Mother: Oh really?
Me: Yes.
Mother: *pause* Ok, so where did we all want to go for dinner?

Last night, we had this conversation:

Me: So, before I move back to CO, and am around more often, I just wanted to make it clear and known to you two that I identify as queer.
Mother: *pause* Ok.
Sister: *says nothing*
Me: I even have the queer magnetic poetry, that make me legit, right?
Mother: I wonder where our bill is. It certainly is windy.

Tonight, we had this conversation:

Sister: What is BDSM?
Me: Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, and Sadomasochism.
Sister: Oh.
Me: But it doesn’t have to be hardcore; it can be just ties and/or a blindfold for starters.
Sister: Huh?
Me: I mean, it doesn’t have to be wrist restraints and floggers.
Sister: *chokes on her iced tea* Oh god, never do that again!
Me: What?
Mother: That is quite the visual image. Floggers are quite hardcore.
Me: There are nice floggers too! I have one made of leather and muppet fur…it matches my shoes!
Mother: *big eyes*
Sister: And that’s what I call TMI.

We also had this conversation before I went swimming:

Sister: Your back looks like you got run over; it has tire track like bruises on it. *leaves room*
Mother: What happened to your back…or do I even want to know?
Me: *takes deep breath* Oh, that was from a play piercing class/thing I was at.
Mother: Huh?
Me: You know, like surface piercings?
Mother: Are the marks permanent?
Me: No.
Mother: Put on more sunblock.

It’s so interesting. There is no positive OR negative reaction. Just like when I mentioned I didn’t really like finding someone and settling down at the moment, my sister said “I don’t think you’ll ever find someone or settle down.” My family isn’t anti-LGBTQ, but it’s not like I feel any support for it either. It just *is.* We never talk about it, never discuss it…the closest we got was when J was in Cosmo, an I sent my mother a copy, and she mentioned that he’d have a hard time in the world living with male pronouns, since he had a “feminine face.”

That was as much of a discussion about my identities/orientation, etc that we’ve EVER had. And it wasn’t about me, it was about my partner at the time.

While I don’t need a coming out party or anything, it would just feel nice to feel…well, validated? Like they don’t think it’s a phase, or something I’m going through, like they appreciate that it IS harder for me in some ways, that I’m not society’s default.

I don’t know. Maybe I should just feel lucky. Who knows?

-Essin’ Em

So it finally happened. I got to play with that person I’ve been lusting over for the last month or so, and pursuing for what, two weeks? Now, maybe I’ll stop blabbing on and on about my ability to get some.

Particularly because the “some” that I got would qualify as one of my top three sexual experiences…ever. Not solely because it was incredibly hot, and because I’ve never come *quite* like that before, and because this was the first time I’ve come without a vibe/mouth in oh, forever (possibly ever). This was more than that; it was about trust, and about learning new things about myself, and pushing my boundaries.

I’ll call him K, for ease of conversation.

We took the train up to NY. I really enjoy his company; he has some of the same sarcastic streaks as I do, and doesn’t mind laughing at me (not with me, AT me), and has interesting things to say. Something else really interesting is his eye contact; he has these incredibly piercing eyes (no pun intended), and he actually makes eye contact…even when you’re not talking to him. Granted, I too am an eye contact person, but so few people are, so it’s almost unnerving to have his gaze going through you.

We got into Penn Station just fine, and headed over to the party.

Thought of the day; shoes you THINK are comfortable are NOT when you’re walking in NYC.

Once there, we checked our coats and my purse, and took a look around. It was a very interesting space, a maze of sorts. There were many “private” and “semi-private” rooms, but they all had little peepholes looking into them, for those voyeurs amongst us. There was a public room with a giant bed, one with a sling , one with another sling, a bed, and a hanging/swinging padded platform. Additionally, there was a medical room, a shower, a cross (and other things to which one might tie someone), and little rooms with beds/slings/chairs/all manners of places to play.

We walked around a little, seeing what this space had to offer. And got a glass of water in the social room. K left me to go figure out his plans, and I enjoyed people watching, although I was quite a bundle of nerves. Finally, he came back, and let me to a vinyl table with straps, out in the open, and in the pretty much best lit (only lit?) section of the place. He told me to choose a number between 1 and 20. I hate that game; you can never second guess people properly. I chose 11…he explained that he had brought 30 needles, and since I had chose 11, he would be placing 19 into my flesh.

He told me to take my top and bra off. This is when it was do or die…I could have backed out, I could have let the nervousness in me take over, let my fears control. Fuck that; my shirt was thrown in a corner, and my bra followed quickly. I lay on the table face down, with my boots, fishnets and red vinyl skirt still on.

Almost tenderly, he moved my hair, and lightly bit me on the neck (what with Florida, I wasn’t ready to be explaining a multitude of incredibly obvious marks to my family). I sometimes forget how much I love this kind of thing; it sent a wave of electricity down to my cunt.

His hands ran over my back, and then, suddenly, something was hitting me. It stung. I kept my mouth shut; as much as this was “just” a play session, it was also a test for me to see if I could really let go and embrace things in which I might be interested, but was too afraid to go in depth with.

K exudes dominance, especially when he is in his element. His posture, his stance, his glance. I was aware that he was also quite sadist. However, he also has this…caring (tender?) streak. He make sure I was comfortable, to the point of putting a towel under my face. Moreover, he asked me how I felt about the number of needles planned. I don’t know if I could have taken what I did if there wasn’t that small hint of compassion. Then he told me if I moved, he’d add a needle for each time.

I felt a cold sensation on my back as he cleaned it. I could tell it was in a curve, but couldn’t tell where it sat on my back. Was it on my shoulders? Mid-back? After cleaning me, he stepped away for a moment. I couldn’t feel his touch, or even sense his presence. My mind went a million miles an hour; stay still, no you’re not alone, don’t you fucking dare move, be a good sub. I didn’t move.

Again, I felt his hands on my back, a firm touch. And then, the first needle, on my right side, a prick, and then slightly more pain as it slid in and then out of my skin. I breathed deeply; in, out, in. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I had expected. More importantly, it didn’t feel medical, or “meh” or anything like that…possibly being topless in the middle of a public play space had something to do with that. Or the fact that I was incredibly attracted to the person gently shoving them into me.

The left side hurt a lot more than the right. I guess my bodyworker knew what she was talking about when she told me the car accident had caused some nerve damage resulting in hypersensitivity. Honestly, the left side was about 5 times more painful than the right…as I found out when one or two on the left brought me to the verge of tears and ragged breathing.

His hands pressing on me as he slid his metal beneath my skin reassured me. I don’t know if that was the point; he might have been holding me still. Regardless, with that touch, I felt I could take more, that I could handle as many as he put into me.

After the 9th needle (10th?), the towel was falling, and he had already moved away. I moved to fix it, and froze when I heard “that just earned you another. DON’T move again.” Fuck. It wasn’t like I had moved to get more comfortable, or to get away from the pain…didn’t matter. I had no control in this matter, and now I was up to 20 (although I appreciated the evenness of this number).

He went back to piercing me. I tried to count; I lost count once or twice, and tried to regain it. Some really fucking hurt going in (on the left), and there was one the right that I didn’t even feel. Sometimes, I forgot to breathe through the pain, but then his voice would cut into me as he reminded me to breathe.

His voice is powerful. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s not high pitched, nor is it deep, but whenever he said anything, it resonated deeply inside me. Sometimes reassuring, other times simply dominant, there is just something about it that gets me dripping.

Finally, all the needles were in; I was surprised, I thought we were still on 18 or 19. Then he pulled down my skirt and fishnets, and alternated spanking me, and hitting me with whatever the hell that stingy thing was. I hated that thing; it hurt more than anything else we did all night, and when he used it on the soles of my feet (as I yelled various versions of “oh god,” “owwwww,” “holy shit” and “fuuuuck), I was the closest to saying yellow that I ever was.

But when you’re really attracted to someone, and part of that attraction is to their dominance, it almost gives you a second wind for pain. I think if J had hit me like that, I might have used a safeword. But K is almost an antithesis of J, and knowing that it was K in charge, I felt like I almost had to take more, to prove to myself that this was what I wanted. And it was what I wanted. As he ran his hands over me, and hit me, I was grinding against the table in desire. In fact, I was so “squirmy” that he had to remove the bottom three needles…but when I apologized, he said in my ear “I didn’t say that it was a bad thing.” Jesus; that was like an electric shock to the clit. Whoever said that pleasure isn’t a good part mental is insane. I think he could murmured things in my ear for a while, and I’d be just as close to coming as if I had used the Hitachi.

He moved away for a moment, and I felt something on my lower back and ass. It felt sharp…I started thinking about what it was. Did he grab my Wartenburg wheel? No, it didn’t feel like that. Was it something like an ordinary pen, or paperclip, that with all my heightened sensation, felt like an unbelievably sharp edge?

Then it struck me. I was playing with K. K likes knives. A lot. A shiver ran down me, but it certainly wasn’t one of fear. Someone I’ve known for all of 2 weeks had me naked on a table with needles glinting in my skin, and was now running the point of a knife up and down me…and I was so incredibly turned on. I never had even considered liking edge play. It just wasn’t in my thought process. But here I was, body trembling from the sensation play, dripping wet, craving MORE of that blade.

From all the sensation play, my body was out of control. Shaking, shuddering…I’ve been trying to figure out how to describe it. It almost felt like an orgasm, but one that wasn’t genitally oriented, or even related. I had that same type of “high” from an orgasm, and was there quivering on the table. It was like a full body orgasm of sorts…and he’d never touched me between my legs.

At some point in all of this, he bit me. HARD. We’d talked about this; he likes to bite, and I like to be bitten. However, I was still conscious of being in a bathing suit in front of my family for the next week, and wasn’t ready to explain my BDSM preferences in order to prevent them from calling the authorities, thinking that I had been abused. So I told him my ass, breasts, hips, and stomach were fair game. He chose my ass. I’d NEVER been bitten this hard. The pain was visual; I had flashes of light pass before my eyes; I grabbed for his hand. I’m sure that wasn’t allowed, but I needed something to handle it. It hurt SO much and I screamed….and then it was over, and he rubbed it, and my clit was THROBBING.

Eventually, he told me he needed me to hold still for a few minutes, and I tried my best as he removed the 17 remaining needles.

Then he was hitting me again. A lot. Especially on my feet. I tried so hard to not move, but have you ever had leather slapped across your soles? Yeah, you try not to move. He grabbed them, and held them to him, and hit them a few times. By this point, I’d figured out that he liked making me (people) scream, and the only times I had screamed were with my feet being hit, and being bitten. I figured I could vamp it up if I wanted to, make more noise, etc, but then I decided I’d rather just play this time 100% authentically, and see what happened from there.

Finally, he told me to get up, gather the trash, throw it away (finding out what to do with the sharps container was a bit difficult), and to find a place that I’d like to be fucked. I apparently missed two pieces of trash…I need to work on getting my head back together after a scene.

I considered the public sling, but I wanted SOME semblance of privacy, even if people were still going to be looking through the curtain and peepholes. I settled on a mattress in a small alcove. I sat, waiting for him, on edge, my body on fire.

He found me, and inquired as to what I had in my bag. Fuck, I had everything in my bag; if I thought I MIGHT have been able to have it used on me, I brought it. Cuffs, Wartenburg wheel, the Gigi, the Ideal, clothespins, nipple clamps, Pjur Aqua (the lube), and a few other random things. He had me take out the clothespins, the wheel and the clamps.

Then he pushed me back on the bed. God, I love being pushed, held down, etc. I had my hair straightened, and in a pony tail, and so far, he’d grabbed it a few times, sending that feeling of want and need directly between my legs. Now, he pulled the hair tie out of my hair (I am such a Femme…in the middle of all this, I thought for about 3.5 seconds “well, now what the fuck am I going to do with my hair after this!?”) and wound his fingers in my hair, pulling me up to him. A nip here, a few breaths between us, and possibly a quick touch of the lips, and I was on my back again.

Fuck. I forgot that I had mentioned how much I liked nipple play. Over the next period of time (minutes? What are those?), I had his mouth, his teeth, clothespins, the wheel, and his knife (oh god, his knife) torturing and pleasuring my nipples. He had me cross my legs at the ankles and hold them up in the air (reminiscent of that one pin up picture) as he hit my ass and thighs, and slowly slid a finger into me.

Dear god; I wanted that so much. I didn’t even know how much I had been waiting for it until it happened, and then my body relaxed into it. He moved my legs down, pushing my thighs open. Adding lube, he put another finger into me, I think. He fucked me, while removing and replacing the clothespins, while biting the underside of my breasts, while running the wheel (and knife? Was that before, or now) all over my body. I do remember feel both the wheel and the knife on my vulva and labia, and trying so hard not to squirm or buck up into it.

He did that thing with his fingers, and I was on the edge. I asked to come, and thank god, he let me. I’ve not come just from fingers…ever? Well, maybe once at Dinah 07, but it is definitely not a common experience. I don’t even come from my own hand. And it was good. Strike that; it was fucking fabulous. I forget how loud I am when I’m really fucking turned on and coming HARD. I finished, and he kept fucking me, as I back up into the wall, trying to get away. Relentless, he kept moving his fingers as my aftershocks turned into a continuation of my climax. Finally, he let up, but never took his fingers out of my cunt.

Periodically, he’d add more lube, but he was like a machine, fingers going in and out, sometimes in different motions or patterns, but never flagging. I remember when he added a third finger; that hurt, because I was sore. But it was still a good kind of hurt, so I made it through.

At some point, he gave me the Gigi and said I could use it, but that I wasn’t allowed to come. I turned it on, and used it on and off for a bit, but I couldn’t really use it without pushing myself over the edge, and if nothing else, I do TRY to be as obedient as possible.

He put a fourth finger into me at some point; I don’t know when. He added more lube, and just kept fucking me, his body between my legs. I was riding this wave of pleasure, not quite an orgasm, but at this heightened sense of…of something. Finally, I was ready to come again, but when I had asked if I couldn’t come “in general, or unless I asked,” he had something to the effect of I just couldn’t. So I didn’t know if I could ask. I tried to hold off, but seriously, there was not slowing in the fingers, and they were back to relentlessly stimulating my g-spot, and I finally asked. I’ve learned to ask before I am at the point of no return, because usually they say no, and I’d rather them stop momentarily than get in trouble for coming without permission. He did say no…he told me I wasn’t convincing enough. I tried again, maybe two or three times, and then he told me I could.

Holy fuck. This was a ridiculously strong, all encompassing climax. I must have made a fair amount of noise; I remember looking up, and seeing someone from the next stall over peeking over the top of the barrier. Afterwards, I lay there shuddering.

I DO have a small cunt. People don’t believe me. But K has small hands, smaller than mine. I believe his response when I asked about 4 fingers was “I have small hands, but not that small.” Later on though, he did say that he thought I could have taken a whole hand, but that it would just have been very uncomfortable for me. It’s still a goal of mine.

After I finished shivering, he lay next to me, running his hands over different areas of my body. I held my breath has he ran them over my knees; not because he didn’t know (he does), but I think people forget about my disability, or intellectualize it (disability doesn’t matter; I like them regardless and can do _____ regardless), but then it stares them in the face, like my scars, and suddenly, I’m getting treated differently. It meant so much to me that it didn’t change (at least to me) my treatment at his hands.

He had bitten me again, on the other ass cheek. I don’t remember when, but I do remember it hurting just as much (if not more), and I remember screaming loudly, and I remember seeing those lightening strikes flash across my vision.

As we lay there, his hand crept up to my throat. This was one of those things that I was curious about, but also incredibly nervous about…not so much for the “normal” reasons, but because when I forget to breathe, it can trigger migraines. I wasn’t sure how much someone restricting my breathing might affect that, so we had negotiated that I had on my throat with little to no pressure was fine. However, he had placed it there, or near there lightly while fucking me, and I wanted more. I moved my neck up, exposing it, trying to communicate this, but, like any good top, he respected my hard limit. It wasn’t until this post-fuck play that I was thinking about how we have things like “red” (stop right the fuck now and get me out of this) and “yellow” (I’m in severe pain/really not ok with this situation, but want to keep going; please check in with me, or change to something else), but we don’t have anything for “OMG, this is really good, and I like it even though I told you I didn’t think I did.” And so then I was thinking that people should be able to use “green” for that, and then I started thinking of playing kinky red light/green light, and started laughing.

Many people are not amused if you’re laughing when they have their hand on your throat. K inquired as to why I was laughing, and when I tried to demur, he told me to explain. I did, to the best of my ability, and his oh so logical answer was that I should just start using green. Damn him and his impenetrable logic! Anyways, after that, there was a bit more pressure on my throat, and suddenly, my cunt was ready for action again.

As we wound down, he hit me with the damn double strap thing on my right foot. I screamed loudly…but then, like an idiot, asked him if he’d do the same thing to my left, so at least they’d be even. I AM aware I can be ridiculous. He acquiesced.

We finished, and I re-clothed, and wandered a bit. Some younger people were going through “kissing training,” where they were tied and blindfolded, and were getting kissed all over their body by other players. God forbid I impede someone’s training by not participating, so I kissed two of them before wandering into the room with the handing, padded platform. I decided that I really wanted to try it out, so out came the Gigi. Let me tell you; getting off while swinging/floating in mid air is an amazing experience.

As the party came to an end, we collected our belongings, and headed out to get some food while we waited for the 6am train to Trenton. After wandering the wrong direction for a bit, we made it to the diner. Fuck did my nipples hurt. A lot. Like I couldn’t cross my arms, or lean on the table, or oh, pretty much even brush them without a shot of pain (and electricity running down to my cunt). I have this problem where once I’m really turned on, I am like that for 24-48 hours, so every time I’d accidentally hit my sore nipples, or lean on a sore ass cheek, I’d be ready and raring to go again.

One of the best parts of this whole thing was that we were still able to have just as interesting conversations (with random observations about our play thrown into the mix). I don’t understand why dynamics ever change after sex, but it drives me nuts. I was glad that they didn’t in this case, as that was one of my concerns. However, in the early morning tiredness, I did tell him that we was one of the hottest people I’d ever seen in Philly. Dear tongue; STFU sometimes. Thanks.

We got on the train (where I noticed that I had a bruise on my shoulder…I can always say I ran into the wall), and made it back to Trenton, and then to my place. Where I looked at my ass in the mirror. Two huge circular purple marks (edit: as of Monday, they are two huge black marks. My mom thought I got black tattoos of circles…wtf?). One on each cheek.

Yeah. Cause that’s going to be easy to explain why I have two dark purple, almost even, circular bruises on my ass. (Edit; neither swimsuit covers them. Or my back. Or my shoulder bruise. Dear people at the pool/beach; please don’t call the police. I LIKED getting the bruises on my ass/shoulder/back, and would gladly get more. Thanks!)

But whatever. It was so worth it. For all that I may kvetch about trying to explain them to others, I LOVE being marked. Right now, after sitting on a plane for hours, and now sitting on a bench while waiting for my family to fly in, my ass is screaming out in pain. A lot of it. But that pain, and the sore nipples, and the bruise on my shoulder? They remind me of a really fun time, and I’m going to be ridiculous aroused for days. Sigh.

I dropped K off with a hug and the pleasantries of “I really did have a lot of fun” and all that jazz, and got to my friend’s house, since she was driving me to the airport. She’s quite into kink, and wanted to see my ass and piercing marks. One thing I regretted was having not been able to see the piercing (no cameras allowed of course), but she said the marks were still there (can I get away with telling my mother they’re acupuncture?), so I had the genius idea of having her take a photo. You can’t see them perfectly, but I’ll have a picture of both my ass and my back up when I get back from Florida.

Edit: My sister told me my back looked like it was run over by a bike (it is bruised, plus there are needle marks still). My mother asked if she wanted to know what happened. I gave up with my acupuncture story I had concocted; I told her I’d been to a play piercing event. Her: “Will they go away?” Me: “Yes, they’re fresh.”

I love the concept of outlining/highlighting my tattoo. It really is fucking beautiful – I wish I could have seen it with the needles in. Actually, it reminded me a little of the marks that are often seen around pictures of the Virgin Mary. Regardless, I was quite impressed, and actually a little glad that those marks were left.

By the time I got on the plane, I’d been awake for more than 24 hours. I slept the entire flight…and decided to type this (while sitting on my super sore as with matching welts/bruises) as I wait for my family. Things are always better written out right after the fact.

All in all, this was one of the most pleasant, erotic, arousing and satisfying sexual experiences I’ve had. I’ve learned that I enjoy:

*Play piercing

*Breath play

*Knife/edge play

And a few other little things. 2 months ago, I’d never thought that I’d been into any of this. However, with an intelligent, attractive and experienced top, I was able to be pushed into my own, while enjoying myself at the same time. And really, does it get any better than that?

From the moment that I had heard that it existed, I have been waiting to get my hands on a Goldfrau.

Maybe you’re just tuning in. I have this weird obsession with seeking out and getting sex toys made of “odd” materials. I’m talking wood, glass, stainless steal…muppet fur…you know the drill. Then I heard about the Goldfrau. It is a CERAMIC dildo. Yeah, that’s right. We’re talking white clay, glazed, and ready for insertion.

People talk about glass dildos being a work of art; well, so is this. I was lucky enough to get Miss Black (seriously, how many black sex toys are there? Not so many…and this lovely black dildo looked stunning moving in and out of me). It was actually a bit larger than I expected (length and end width), but that’s what I get for mentally trying to convert centimeters to inches. However, even though it was a little larger than I was thinking, with a few drops of lube (you don’t need much, it’s already so slick), I was able to slide it into me with absolutely not problems.

I was a little concerned about the shape…unlike most of the toys I own, this baby is straight as an arrow, no curve whatsoever. I was thinking about what I know of female anatomy, particularly my own, and was pondering exactly where it was planning on going, and how it would feel.

I slid it into my cunt; it did fit quite well, to my surprise, and when I pressed down on the white, knobbed end of it, suddenly, my g-spot was quite stimulated. However, it had a tendency to slide right on out of me right after I had it perfectly situation, and went to go grab my Hitachi.

Now, I know most of you are like “What? Don’t you have the Vagina of Steel ™? Why didn’t you do a kegel to keep it in?” Yeah, I thought of that too. Yet, whenever I tried that, or had my vaginal muscles contract in pleasure, etc, it almost propelled it out of my cunt (see, there ARE down sides to being able to crack a walnut with your pussy).

It did, however, feel GREAT as I fucked myself with it, especially when I remembered to push down on the end, so that I got my g-spot stimulated. The temperature sensations are fabulous; like metal and glass, it’s cooler to start with, and warms right up to the fire of your desire within (I think I’ve missed my calling in writing romance novels). Additionally, you can place it under really cold water (or in a bowl of ice water) to make it even colder (which I personally LOVED!), or run it under warm water to heat it up (just make sure to test it on your wrist before bringing it down to your naughty bits. This is not a fun ER experience). It’s also super easy to clean; they suggest soap and warm water, and I’ve heard you can sterilize it by wiping it down with a 10% bleach solution.

One issue I had was that you can’t use silicone lube with it, because there is a small amount of silicone in the coating of the handle. I really like the feel of silicone lube, but I can’t use it very often because most of my toys are silicone. I was looking forward to slicking up the Goldfrau with a little silicone action…and am really glad that I read the handy dandy (and incredibly pretty!) information booklet that came with it before I did something that might have harmed my new and beautiful toy.

Overall, I LOVED the material. Like glass, wood, metal, and silicone, ceramic has a sensation all of its own, and it felt amazing. I liked the temperature play too (I’m a slut for sensations). I *do* wish I could have used the silicone lube with it, and while I was way more impressed with its shape than I thought I would be, I’d love to see the company make a new version with a little more of a curve.

In case you would also like to be the proud owner (and am I proud! I’m showing this to everyone!) of your very own Goldfrau,, they make them in white, black, white with purple flowers, and white with pink flowers. Also, every Goldfrau comes with her very own beautifully crafted leather tie around pouch that is ideal for storing her, and to prevent her from chipping. I really appreciate the follow through on this; lots of companies make good products, but then don’t think about storing it. I love my pouch; it’s classy, sexy, and logical. Like me (only not).

Plus, the company is environmentally friendly! And ethical enough to have engineers test the structure of their product. An awesome independent company well worth supporting.

It may not be the right toy for you; it’s not soft, it’s not squishy, it’s not meant to be strapped on, and it is NOT meant for anal use. However, it is completely different, artistic and beautiful, and feels delectable inside your body.

Where can you get your lovely Goldfrau that I know you’re just jonesing for? Goldfrau.net has a list of retailers around the world (Goldfrau is an Australian company…brings whole new meaning to going down under…), and of course, EdenFantasys.com sells them online as well (free shipping in the US).

And now, all I need is a stone (granite?) dildo to complete my idea for decor in my dream house; a collection of shadow boxes on the wall, each featuring a dildo of a different material.

Anyone want to send me a stone dildo to complete my collection?

Yeah, didn’t think so ;)

-Essin’ Em

I spoke with the owner/designer, and would like to add a few things. Apparently, it IS ok to use it with silicone lube; she’s done testing, and it’s fine. She’ll be changing that in the updated booklet. She also mentioned that some people do use it anally…however, my personal feeling is that the base is NOT big enough, so I would PERSONALLY warn against it. She explained that the shape is meant for “vigorous fucking” between two people, so that it wouldn’t get twisted around, but that as she begins to research designing new products, she’ll keep g-spot stimulation in mind. Basically, it’s even more awesome, and it shows that the company cares!

I’m flying out to Florida today. I’ll be meeting my mother and sister there (flying out from CO) to visit my Grandfather, my aunt, and her partner.

I’ll be there until the 1st.

The hotel has internet in the lobby, but not in the rooms (WTF? And it’s a fancy schmancy hotel at that), so my posting may be a bit more sporadic, but I’ll try and get things up.

Most exciting thing? I get to hang out with Miss Avarice!!!! I am so excited. Thanks in advance to her for driving a long way to see me.

Class is over, and I survived it, mostly. It’s given me some more introspective things to think about (although I still hate this program), so expect some deep(er) blog posts in the next few weeks as I process things.

I’ll write about the hot sex party in NYC soon. I’ll write about class. I’ll write about identity. Promise.

Hope y’all have a lovely memorial day!

-Essin’ Em

I’m flying out to Florida today. I’ll be meeting my mother and sister there (flying out from CO) to visit my Grandfather, my aunt, and her partner.

I’ll be there until the 1st.

The hotel has internet in the lobby, but not in the rooms (WTF? And it’s a fancy schmancy hotel at that), so my posting may be a bit more sporadic, but I’ll try and get things up.

Most exciting thing? I get to hang out with Miss Avarice!!!! I am so excited. Thanks in advance to her for driving a long way to see me.

Class is over, and I survived it, mostly. It’s given me some more introspective things to think about (although I still hate this program), so expect some deep(er) blog posts in the next few weeks as I process things.

I’ll write about the hot sex party in NYC soon. I’ll write about class. I’ll write about identity. Promise.

Hope y’all have a lovely memorial day!

-Essin’ Em