A situation out in public caused me to feel off-kilter; dressed up in my sunblock garb to take a tricycle ride, I was returning home when I had someone obviously taking my picture as I crossed in the pedestrian crosswalk and he jogged at me when I made it to the other side of the crosswalk. I peddled as hard as I could to get away; I didn't know if he wanted to talk or to attack me. I couldn't take the chance. That situation? It's just this week's situation; I could tell you quite a few stories of blatant discrimination. At least my characters can't physically hurt me.
One of several diagnoses I have is Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD); yup, I've experienced enough trauma in my life to have PTSD even though I've never seen combat. Sighs, I got through the first paragraph and the former sentence and my ability to focus on the topic evaporated. Of course, the rehearsal of writing this post before bedtime last night isn't coming back to me. Trying to pick up the threads- I said to a friend today, “While hypervigilance is listed as a symptom of PTSD, what if my hypervigilance is reasonable?” If I leave my house, I really don't have feel I have a guarantee of my personal safety; if I'm with my Master, who's a big man, I feel a bit more relaxed.
I tried to at-home therapy things and I'm wondering if any of my characters would be helped enough that I should include them in a story. Skin brushing and EMDR.
Skin brushing is also something called a brushing protocol. I've found a named one after Patricia Wilbarger. Since Sensory Processing Disorder isn't in the DSM yet (praying for that to change), there's no way to get insurance to cover occupational therapy. Thus I'm doing skin brushing on my own to work on tactile defensiveness; I don't want to hope that it might decrease my sun sensitivity- an anti-depressant that's helping other issues isn't helping with the sun. I bought a pet grooming glove and have been using it on myself (way more often than the recommended “every 2 hours awake,” but I'm hoping my use will encourage my cat to let me use it on her too).
Circling around specifically to the PTSD, I went looking early one day this week for treatments that could help PTSD. I eventually hope to get a service dog, although my family is too poor for one currently, and my med manager offensively called them “a crutch.” I'm already working on Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy with my therapist and it's slow going. The mass of behaviors, symptoms, and such that she found in my 39-year-old self was a lot; she and my daughter just got me through another nervous breakdown and I do hope CBT can get me somewhere. However, I wanted something to use alongside CBT; I really look at any and all possible tools to help me function better. The tool I found was EMDR.
EMDR stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. On YouTube, I started off searching “EMDR” and then found “EMDR self-administered”; I recommend you doing the same if you have had any traumas in your life. So I read on one page that an average session of EMDR with a therapist is 60-90 minutes; I'm not able to focus on most things that long- the 5 to 10 minute videos I've found are working great right now. I just spent some time with one video because my daughter wanted my attention and that distracted me too much to get back to writing; she's 19 and it's seldom life-or-death matters she's bringing to me. Before that, I tried a longer video to work on a core belief (Writing down 4 core beliefs was a CBT-related assignment from my therapist; I came up with 5 and they'll be the subject of a #TherapeuticThursday post in July). My mother did a good job planting the belief that I'm worthless; now 40-years-old, I'm still trying to uproot that false belief.
So what do you think- EMDR and skin brushing used by a character in a story? I have some ideas flitting in my head :D
Trying a new sleep pattern- went to bed at 12:30am, woke to kitty demanding attention at 5:30am, once this is posted, I'll be going back to sleep, hopefully no later than 7:30am.
It seems ironic to me that the inspiration picture didn't quite inspire me; I'm a nudist as are several of my characters and “going commando” is such a thing as not to commented on. In fact, as I type this up, I'm naked. However, with a roommate who was raised by repressed Christians, as far as I can tell, and is a “Thirty-something gamer guy,” I now have to wear clothing- when he's home- and I hate it!
“Master, could I please have laptime?” I swished on my feet and tugged at a curl.
“Are you wearing panties?” Master asked in disbelief.
“Well my nakey is terrifying.” I giggled and turned around to rub the cotton of my new purple-and-white striped panties against His comfy pants-covered crotch. “Count as a chair dance?”
“Count as a sentence?” He laughed.
“Of course, Master! Whole sentence happened in my head.”
“Come here.” He held a hand out and I accepted His help to set onto the chair between His legs before settling on His thighs.
I settled down onto His lap and rested my head on His shoulder. “Love You, Master.”
“Love you more.” He kissed my forehead.
My thoughts whirled in their usual stimming, but I paid slightly less attention to them. Releasing a soft breath, I closed my eyes. He rocked the chair and rubbed my temple. “Hey! That's cheating, Master,” I lazily argued.
“But you're falling asleep.”
“I was gonna... gonna... um, beg... sex!” I blinked my eyes as I tried to fight His calming touch. I wiggled my butt against His crotch.
“Tease!” He cupped one boob through my lacy camisole.
“Yupper, Master!” I giggled and wiggled my butt again.
“Yes, sometimes, Master. But right now, I really really want you to fuck my cunt!” I grinned up at Him. I scrambled out of His lap, focused on not hurting Him or stepping on His computer- I really shouldn't do that.
“Ouch! That was my toe.”
“Sorry, Master.” I toe-jogged my way to the bedroom with Him close behind. With a grunt, I landed on my stomach when He pushed me onto the bed. I squealed happily as He yanked off my panties. I arched my back to help take off my camisole when He flipped me onto my back, grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head before using His other hand to yank my shirt so it covered my face.
“Don't move!” He stopped touching me.
I thought I heard the sounds of Him taking off His clothing. Before I could do more than a moment of questioning His order, my body sung with contentment to feel His weight pushing down on me. I moaned into my shirt as He pushed my legs apart with a knee.
“No need to beg. I wanna feel you come,” He growled.
“Hmm!” I moaned, my lips closed against the fabric. His cock drove into me and I wrapped my legs around His waist, my feet pressing against His upper thighs. After thrusting into me for some time, He pulled out and propped my legs on His shoulder. As He pushed back in, I had went I expected was my first orgasm of this use.
He pressed His cheek against the sole of my foot.
My fingers wriggled against a pillow above me. My chest struggled to expand as the position and His weight made it tricky to breathe in. Nails longer than usual, my fingers curled in tight and pushing into my palms, they gave me a delicious taste of pain.
He pulled out again and I found myself moved. A folded pillow pushed under my hips and my legs pushed apart again. He thrust back into my cunt.
I screamed with cumming in this wonderful position; porn changes position too often for most women to orgasm? I'm glad I'm agender and not like most of those assigned female at birth.
Wrestling my shirt off, He then pushed my hair aside when I turned my head to breathe and pressed a kiss to my cheek.
“Yes, Master.” My toes pushed down into the piled blankets. I stretched my hands out and moaned when He wrapped His fingers into them. I pushed up hips back so His cock went farther into me.
This time when He pulled out, He moved behind me and rolled me onto my side. He grabbed my left leg and thrust into my cunt from behind.
The orgasm was immediate and almost overwhelming; thank everything that's holy for G-spot orgasms and spooning!
“Where you want my cum?”
“In my cunt, please, Master.” Please not too many questions that I think I answered in a full sentences, but didn't. I reached back to grip His hip.
With my arm out of the way, He slapped the side of my right boob.
My orgasm fluttered and continued.
“Like being my fucktoy?”
“Yes, yes, Master!” I release His hip and grab the side of the bed.
My arm moved again, He pushed my upper body onto the bed. His hand tight on my hip, He pounded into my cunt.
My toes curled when He grunted His own coming.
We lay panting, our bodies tangled.
“Love you, Master.”
“Love you more. Good fucktoy.”
My dear Audrey started talking at me as I tried to come up with this scene; she suggested that she and I try it, since I'm using AAC in a slightly different way with my Master currently.
When I finished this piece, I debated if I would break it in parts, but there was no natural break so you get a long scene. It makes more sense if you consider part of Audrey's comment in my memory. If you want to know more about AAC beside seeing it used in this post, I recommend you read my first #TherapeuticThursday post here.
Audrey's voice traveled through my memory: Just because you've never been formally diagnosed with anything warranting AAC, never fitted by a professional doesn't mean it won't make our lovemaking that much better. Yes, using AAC can take longer than speech; that'll just be time to make our lovemaking be a longer time together.
I placed the last word on the board, pressing it down well at the corners to make sure it stuck. Grinning, I studied the words and pictures I'd chosen for this board. Audrey, me, me, Audrey, both of us.
“Such gorgeous pecs,” she murmured as her index finger traced over the picture of my chest in my white sports binder.
I tapped on the nipple of her breast pictured.
“So let's take your board to my bedroom.” She grabbed my empty hand and urged me to my feet. “You need a dry erase marker like with your shopping board?”
“Nah,” I murmured. I continued to hold her lovingly moisturized hand as we journeyed down the hallway.
“You gonna let me enjoy learning this board on you first some? We gonna use the ASL YES/NO eyebrows?”
I giggled and nodded. “Both!”
She snatched my board from me before tugging on my sundress and making her eyebrows go upward. Keeping her expression the same for a long moment, she lifted her shoulders to add to her question.
“Di di di di di. You wanna undress me?” I spun a circle.
With a quick movement, she caught the bottom hem of my dress when it spun out. Before I could find my balance, she had the light fabric off me and I fell to my butt on the floor.
“Love you!” I surged forward to kiss the tops of her pretty feet.
“Oh, you! Love you, darling.” Both her hands grabbing mine, she helped me to my feet and pulled me into a tight hug.
I hummed against her, relaxing in the touch and the smell of her. Light, light vanilla. Some nutmeg, like she was making cookies. Oh, almost too cold. I pulled her onto her bed with me.
“Hmhm. Still gonna lay back for me?”
I nodded and scurried backward to place my head on her fluffy white pillow.
“I like that you didn't shave before our time together.” She tapped her short purple nail on “Hair” on the board.
I touched “Go.” I held my breath until she touched the shaved part of my head; I hadn't thought to specify hair-where. Relaxing into her touch, I let my hands slip off my hips and onto the bed.
“That's good. I agree with Shaman. This style is quite fetching on you. I enjoy the dichotomy of shaved and long curls.”
A smile spread across my lips. Passive voice, passive voice! My fingertips tingled as if she said I could stroke her short layer of recently shaved cotton swirls. Twist out! So beautiful.
“Yes, lovely pecs.” She pressed her fingertip against the pecs side; after I nodded, she took both hands and pressed them against my pecs, the skin of her palms just touching above the edge of the sports bra binder. “Binder stays on today?”
I lifted my right hand to sign YES.
“I do love how YES looks like a nodding hand.” She touched “Lower” and raised her eyebrows, their delicate, rich black curves drawing me into her gaze.
Shuddering against the bed, I forced my lips apart even as I pointed to “Go.”
“Good girl,” she purred as she started to draw random shapes across my belly. “I like the idea of you holding up the board 'cause where I hope to be going, I'll need your help to see.”
With a high pitched whimper, my mind caught her teasing hint. I tapped away at “Lower” before grabbing the board and holding it up awkwardly on the bed.
She aimed one finger at “Vulva” with her lips pressing against my lower belly just above where my pubic hair started.
Both my hands tried to move in YES, even the one holding my AAC board up.
“I can't tell if you're signing YES or CAN.”
I gasped; she'd learned some more ASL. I stilled my left arm and signed YES again before tapping away on “Lower, Vulva, Lower.”
“Would it be cruel of me to ask you to speak some of these words?” She smirked.
I let my lips tremble as I strained to make my eyes wide open while blinking my eyelashes at her. I nodded slowly.
“Don't pull that innocent act on me.” She chuckled. “I know you are far from innocent, dearie.”
Snorting, I wrinkled my nose.
“Are you gonna use your words to tell me you don't like dearie? Or maybe point to stop?”
“Don't like use my words,” I snarled and jabbed my finger against “Stop.”
She brushed her finger over “Lips” and “Go” before lifting her eyebrows.
“Yes,” I shrieked.
Tracing the tip of her tongue over my labia majora, she repeated the gesture four times, up and down, before prying them apart to do the same to my labia minora. “Ba ba ba!”
She lifted her mouth from my body and stretched to touch “Bound Clitorophallus” on my board.
I pounded my finger against “Go.” I melted into a long groan as she sucked my clit between her lips. As my breathing slowed again, I poked at “Fingers” and then “Cunt.”
Her eyes pulled up at the corners to show her smile. She shifted until her right hand rested underneath her. Her thumb circled around the opening to my cunt.
Whining, I tapped against “Go” repeatedly. I released a gasp when one of her fingers slid into my wetness, pressing against the inner wall of my vagina. My fingers tightened on my AAC board as I struggled to keep it upright in the midst of my pleasure. “La la la la.”
She hummed against me, the buzz working its magic on my unbound clitorophallus. She moved her hips and her bound clitorophallus pressed against my leg.
“Ta ta ta ta.”
Lifting her mouth from my body, she asked, “Touch? You want my bound clitorophallus to keep touching you?”
I shook my hand “YES!” My toes curled down into the rich brown comforter.
“I wonder if I can find your g-spot now that you're so very turned on. Should I try to encourage a g-spot orgasm for my sweet girl?”
My finger randomly moved over “Go,” “Harder,” “Lower.”
Laughing, her mouth reclaimed my clit as her fingers moved within my cunt's top wall, searching for that elusive g-spot. Her gaze remained on my face. Her pupils dilated when she found it.
“Yes, yes, yes!” I held my hips tight so I wouldn't buck and move her finger off that glorious pleasure spot. Love that I indeed have a g-spot that my loves can find. Verb tense change! My ability to hold my hips still broke and I pushed down on her fingers until an orgasm roared through my body and out of my mouth. So much, too much. I tapped on “Slow.”
“That's my girl.” She kissed my bound clitorophallus. “I just wanna cuddle and hopefully soon we'll explore more words on your board.”
Words need added. “Love you.” My eyelids wavered closed.
Her lips brushed across my cheek. She drew on the bony part of my chest with her fingertip, “I love you.”
I'm still struggling to wake up, but I wanted to be all responsibility. I may be months into recovery from my nervous breakdown, but producing 1000 words or more a day is still the exception, not the rule. That said, I'm planning ahead for Camp Nanowrimo in July. I have 10 posts planned between #MasturbationMonday and #TherapeuticThursday; unfortunately, I've only managed to finish 2 of those planned posts so far. But I'm going to give you a taste of the mutual masturbation scene that'll post on the first Monday in July.
With the last candle lit on the far book shelf, Taryn switched off the overhead light. They turned toward the pair of bean bags they'd set up for this evening.
Holpa looked up from her book. “I suppose I shouldn't try to read in this low light.”
Taryn laughed. “Probably, since you have a paperback.” They settled into the purple silk they'd draped over their bean bag. “Was there anything you needed?”
“Weren't we going to share a drink first?”
“Heh, yeah. I'll be right back.” Taryn poured a finger of vodka into each tall, clear glass before topping it off with sparkling water and a dash of mango juice. “There you are,” they said they handed Holpa's drink to her. “Before you start drinking, let's agree to what we're doing.”
Holpa nodded. “This first time, we wanted to watch each other masturbate. At the same time, but not as a race. We agreed that friendship and vanilla sensuality comes before any BDSM.”
I'm feeling really off-kilter today; don't ask me why. Interesting inspiration picture, but after writing special scenes for my Master focused on anal plugs, I'm feeling tapped out on the subject. I could easily blame my feeling off-kilter on a bunch of things. Sighs. At least the heatwave of last week broke; at its worst, it got to 92 degrees Fahrenheit in my house. Hey, maybe that means there should be ice in my piece for today :D
Lady Audrey reclined on the blanket, her forearms holding her up.
“Thanks for spending this time relaxing with me, my Lady,” Didier murmured.
“Since you asked for cuddles outside, I had to see what you were thinking, my boy.” She pressed the soles of her feet against his.
“I was watching this episode on Ash Hardell's YouTube channel and it made me think, my Lady. Outside, a nice blanket, ice cubes, and closeness. It's just on the side of wanting cuddles, my Lady.”
Audrey laughed. “Well, outside of AC. I could stand cuddles from you any time you're willing.”
He lowered his eyelashes and blushed, the heat coming in small circles in his cheeks. “Thanks, my Lady.” He spread his toes so she could press hers between his.
“I love your aesthetic choices when given permission for moments such as these.” Her gold nail polish catching a glint of sunlight, she traced bowl's rim as the ice cubes clinked against each other. “Might I use one of these ice cubes on you?”
“Yes, please, my Lady.” His shoulders twitched in delight.
Clasping one cube between her thumb and index finger, she stroked his lips. “Let me know if anything gets too sexual for your comfort.”
“Yes, my Lady.” His pulse increased with her caring respect.
Drops of moisture leaving a trail on his bronzed skin, she pulled the ice down his shoulder and onto his bicep. She repeated the gesture oh so slowly on his other arm. “Your toes aren't feeling ticklish today, are they?” She backed up onto her knees just beyond his feet.
“You know the question always makes me feel ticklish even if I wasn't already, my Lady.” Didier grinned. “Not that I'm begging you to stop.”
“Though maybe not your toes need ice.” She pressed the ice against the sole of his foot.
“Ah!” He threw back his head, his shaggy black bangs moving away from his eyes.
She drew the ice cube away and moved it over her body, clad as it was in a tempting yellow string bikini. Her skin sparkling with beads of moisture, she asked, “How about that cuddle now?”
“Yes, thanks, my Lady. Thanks for understanding me without needing to hear specific words.” He moved onto his side and entered her embrace as she entered his. He rested his fingers against the nape of her neck as the coolness and heat of her moved over him. “Love you, my Lady.”
“Love you.” Lady Audrey pressed a kiss to Didier's forehead.
I just don't write “easy romance.”
It seems fitting that I should start this hashtag in my therapist's waiting room. I decluttered one book shelf in the living room yesterday; my Master dropped an oil change appointment on me this morning. Not at all feeling okay.
Well that was before therapy. Doing better, although I realize now that as we were talking about a goal of doing something independently once a week, I didn't tell my therapist about these “hanging out in the mall food court while daughter is working out.” It does make me ponder this hashtag more- #TherapeuticThursday- “Well maybe sensory needs of partners, or a look at one of your characters disabilities and what technology, therapy etc that character uses?”- as my first girlfriend suggested when she read my pondering about blogging.
So her suggestion had both implications for my writing and my non-virtual life. Augmentative and Alternative Communication (known most by its acronym AAC) is an important thing for people with different issues, including those on the Autism Spectrum, like my character Happy and myself. I started off writing “Typing My Love,” my WIP in which Happy is one of four main characters, in part to consider what it would be like for romantic and/or queerplatonic relationship partners to use AAC with a partner who uses AAC. I didn't realize until a few weeks ago- my Master has always supported my use of AAC.
AAC in practice can mean any number of technologies, from the no-tech of using American Sign Language to an AAC device costing thousands of dollars that can be worked by the user's eye gaze. I have a laptop, a Neo (a portable word processor made by AlphaSmart), a white board with a few words related to shopping glued onto it with space for writing in dry erase marker, notebooks, and I'm also learning ASL. But as I said in the previous paragraph, my Master has always supported my use of AAC; I just need to remember His stance. One of my current writing projects is a sexual situation for my Master; I'll share the first line with you, but the contents of the whole scene is only for Him. -- “So I decided to give you two slightly related versions of something, Master.”
Now I want to share a snippet of Happy using AAC to communicate with one of joys loves. Quick explanation that I ended up having to give my therapist when she was confused by the snippet I shared with her: Happy is bigender and uses the noun-self pronouns joy/joys/joyself. Joys partners are named Ziba, Iovita, and Mairead; when my therapist asked if Ziba is a woman, I *amusingly to me* paused; I decided with Ziba and Iovita to write women who consider themselves cisgender even though they have intersex traits.
I decided to show you a snippet of a dinner in a restaurant later the in book (still “in progress”). In it, Happy's current service dog, Alfie, and service dog prospect, Vivien, are both mentioned.
Ziba held the cafe's door open for Alfie and Happy. Soon Vivien will be ready for public access training, even if we will put her to USA standards on that. She followed them inside.
Happy took out joys tablet and made it speak the prepared phrase, “Two for dinner. My partner called ahead so you were aware of my service dog.”
“Of course,” the hostess said. “This way. We set up a booth in the back corner so there would be more room for your dog.”
Ziba and Happy followed the hostess through the restaurant.
At the booth, Happy ordered Alfie to tuck under the table before joy and Ziba sat.
“Oh, oops,” the hostess said. “I didn't think to ask. Do either of you read German or should I get English menus?”
“We can understand enough German to order,” Ziba replied.
“Good. So here are your menus. Lina will be your waitress and she'll be over shortly.” The hostess hurried away.
Happy turned on joys tablet. After a bit, it said, “Thanks for calling ahead to let them know about Alfie. Although Austrians are as good about dogs as most Europeans.”
“You're welcome. It's good to be safe since we don't have anything like the US's ADA here.” She opened the plastic menu. “Well they are known for their pizza here. They make various kinds of vegan cheese in-house.”
“Hi, my name is Lina and I'll be your waitress tonight. Would you like to start with drinks?”
“I have a question about the smoothies.” At Lina's nod, Ziba continued, “Do they have ice in them?”
“No ice cubes because we use frozen fruit,” Lina said.
“I would like the mixed berry smoothie.”
Happy's tablet said, “I would like the strawberry kiwi smoothie.”
“Are you both ready to order your food or do you need time?” Lina asked.
Ziba nodded. “I would like the eighteen centimeter pizza with red onions and chef's choice of cheese.”
Happy's tablet made a weird squawking noise before saying, “Achtzehn Zentimeter Pizza mit Kase und vegetarische Wurst.” Joy snorted and voiced, “It thinks pizza is just English.”
“Bad tablet,” Ziba laughed. She turned to Lina and explained, “My partner uses text-to-speech software because speaking can be hard for them. It doesn't like what it perceives as mixed language sentences though.”
“Technology still has a long way to catch up on many things,” Lina agreed.
It's seldom that I need the same AAC support as Happy is shown using in the previous scene. Most commonly I need some written or visual way to communicate with my carer when I'm wearing my noise-canceling headphones. However, when I'm at my most distressed, sometimes having that level of communication support seems like a need to me. Of course, at 40 years old, I'm just a few years post-coming to terms with the fact that I'm on the Autism Spectrum and have unique sensory challenges; it seems that as an AFAB person, I have just learned social masking too well. Earlier in the book with Happy, I describe a childhood spent in an intentional community- in many ways, Happy got the support I also needed, but was denied. But you know, if someone sat down beside me in the food court where I'm sitting now and gestured that they wanted to type, like I've been daydreaming, I would be ecstatic.
I wanted to continue with a scene showing the use of AAC during a sexual situation, but I'm going to reserve that for next Thursday's #TherapeuticThursday.
I still need to finish some things from The Queen's and my conversation, but thankfully it's mostly writing and figuring out a tag line for one thing. The Queen's comments are in italics, mine in regular font.
So I get you now thanks to your inability to come up with a tag line for #TherapeuticThursdays?
You could be helpful and suggest one rather than just snarking about it. What do you think about #SexGenderSaturday's? “Sometimes sexy, always valid wherever on/off the gender spectrum you are.”
I do like the construction for SexGender better than the first thought for Thursday. What about “Helping Romance, Love, & Sex”?
That's intriguing. Although I want to include queer/quasi-platonic relationships in it.
“For your life- romance, love, sex, & platonically”? “For your life- romance, love, sex, & friendships”?
I like the second one. Thanks.
So we have tag lines, but I thought to talk about writing projects.
Could you please try not wandering out of our conversation so much? Do you need to run upstairs to get a fidget of some sort? Check on your master?
And also better for a shower. I so hope this heat wave breaks soon; “too hot for sex” sucks when it's describing the temp in the house.
Mind me having the “fidget” on Iona curled up on my lap?
Not at all. Hi, lovely Iona. I'm so glad we agreed not to worry about science and say she has purple eyes and has body hair that she doesn't shave, despite what I found online.
Yes, I've had this long break from Vala's Story, even though I've enjoyed short stories, especially for #MasturbationMonday.
Yeah, I loved the space you gave for me to enjoy Ely. Kayla's HAWWWT was definitely correct. Why not see about getting “All the King's Men” from the library on Friday? I will watch it with you. Bad, letting me be distracted by your stimming, looking up world war stuff. Stimming aside though, I do appreciate how all your self-learning is showing up in scenes, like the one you had with Audrey, and “Typing My Love.”
Thanks. It's fun having terms like AAC show up in my writing.
What do you think of my notion to work on “Laura Learns” during Camp Nano in July?
The publisher would surely like it. Maybe you could finish LL and move onto the 3rd book in that trilogy? Then you could start “A Weekend with the Quad” or something.
I don't think you're supposed to be suggesting new projects. LOL!
Now, I believe something with the Quad was already suggested. So the Laura Trilogy for July. Are you going to continue with “Typing My Love” in June?
That makes sense. At least most of June. I might switch over to reading “Laura Learns” in the last week or so of June.
The heat is supposed to be letting up soon.
I know. It's just making it harder than usual to focus on anything.
So I know we touched on the major novel projects. You are set at least for your July blogging, yes?
Yes. I have the plan and plenty of space if/when friends make suggestions on topics. You look so nice with Iona. I'll leave you alone now, if you please.
Ha. Sure. How about I send Simon to your bed tonight?
I'd like that, although my mind's much more not being too hot and yoga.
So this is a little long, but I was inspired, even if not by the inspiration picture. :D I recently saw the meme about FRIES from Planned Parenthood; here's the article about it on Bustle.com. I was happy; I only had to look up the I (for informed) on my Master's phone because I wasn't online just then. I find it quite ironic since “informed” is often one of my arguments for the poorly written “BDSM romance” that get published too much. I'm gonna fangirl now hehe- if you want some good BDSM erotic romance, I suggest Tymber Dalton and our Kayla Lords for well written and informed BDSM fiction.
“I spotted something from Planned Parenthood that might make a fun sexual game.” The Queen grinned at Audrey. “I do so love fries, don't you?”
Audrey snorted. “What are you up to, boy?”
“Well someone had left stuff with the OWL materials. Fry?” He held out a crispy light brown, thick cut french fry to her, its end shimmering with curry sauce.
“Sex with food?” She arched an eyebrow.
“No. It is a lovely, new acronym about consent.”
“Ah, a consent game. I like those as much as D/s games. However I'm not familiar with this acronym yet. Please, teach me, lover.”
He swallowed the fry he'd been chewing. “But there is consent even in D/s. You made sure I understood that early in our play.” He took another bite of a fry as he wiggled his hips suggestively at her.
One finger in a raspberry red curl from her twist-out do, she watched his antics.
“Okay. So you did not directly answer my question. Do you love fries or not?”
“I'm gonna spank your little pasty ass if you don't stop teasing. You know I love fries, but I'm on a diet right now.”
“Well in this case, we are not talking about fries to eat, but the new teaching about consent. F for freely given, R for revocable, I for informed, E for enthusiastic, and S for specific. FRIES. They did have nice paragraphs elucidating on these terms on the pamphlet I read.”
“So, you wanna leave those french fries here and we can work on the rest of this consent in my bed?” She cackled. “Or is this like a BDSM negotiation that shouldn't happen in the bed or play space, as the case may be?”
“I think we are more than good to relocate to your bed as we are both sober and I know I wanna touch your lovely body in any way you will let me.” He showered her with a lopsided grin as he leaned closer over the table to caress the table beside her hands.
“I love when a little informality slips into your word choice and it isn't about being upset.” She clasped his hands a moment. “Come on.” She pulled off her tank top as she walked, tossing the cream-colored silk to the floor.
“Good to have subs,” he joked. His red shirt joined hers on the floor as he hurried to catch up to her.
“Yeah.” She turned on her bedroom light. “So far, you're only consenting to getting in my bed, right?”
“For now. Good being specific.”
“Are you sure we aren't too old for this?”
“Never to old for consent.” He shucked his pants and tossed them by her wall. “May I please kiss your lips?”
“Most definitely.” Her eyelids slid down and she leaned in to meet his searching lips in the softest press of passion. “I'll always be glad I met you.”
“Me too,” he murmured against her lips.
“I guess me being out as a trans woman who hasn't had surgery counts under informed?”
“Sure does. As much as it leads my mind to what I would like in your bed.” He lifted his hands to about her shoulders and she met his hands with her own.
“And what would that be?” She looked from her dark brown fingers interlocked with pale pink fingers to his ice blue eyes.
“Our bodies twisted into a delightful 69, our cocks in each others' mouths, our hands moving over skin, genitals, assholes, until I pull off your cock to beg you to fuck my ass. I might like a little spanking before the fucking.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure, lover. You gonna mess up the sheets first?”
“Nah. I am going to beg to pull you into bed with me.”
She nodded and then laughed as they tumbled onto her vanilla-scented, scarlet-colored comforter. “You are such a gorgeous, gorgeous man. I love that you love eye contact.”
His lips parted. “Kiss?”
“Yes.” She caught his lips with hers. After a long moment, she tapped her tongue against his lips. She groaned when he allowed her tongue to slip into his mouth. Her legs slipped between his before he twisted his calves around hers.
“Oops,” he murmured.
“Nah, it's good. But I wanna move onto that 69-ing we agreed to.” The moment he released her legs, she scrambled on the bed so she lay on her side with her face just about his thighs. His skin smelled of jeans, pine, and finally him. She parted her lips and pulled his semi-hard cock into her mouth. Her ass clenched with pleasure when his mouth wrapped around her cock.
He grasped her hips as they settled into the connection. His breath tickled the short hairs on her balls and inner thighs as he enjoyed her as she enjoyed him. Then he started to move, his mouth going up and down on her cock.
Her hands tightened around his thighs. She pushed her lips to the base of his cock, her tongue moving against him. As he groaned around her cock, she reached up to stroke his balls. That feels so good, she thought as he repeated her gesture. Her fingers slipped onto his taint as she searched for his prostate.
His high pitched whimper of ecstasy echoed through the room. He pulled his mouth off her cock. “No spanking. Gonna need you to fuck me soon if you keep massaging and sucking me like that.”
She felt her smile in her cheeks.
“Not that I'm complaining.”
His mouth reclaiming her cock made her feet flex against the bed. She pressed her tongue against his shaft. Her fingers moved through his thick, black body hair again as she worked on his prostate externally and squeezed his balls in time with her sucking.
Didier appeared just then to place a small bowl of coconut oil where she could see it.
Audrey pulled off The Queen's cock. “Thanks, love.”
“Of course, my Lady.” Didier hurried off.
The Queen paused in sucking her cock. “Finger cot?”
“Not unless you've been with anyone outside our families and should be tested.”
“Not me. Coconut oil lube then?”
“Sounds like paradise. Just one finger, little boy. You have big hands.” She licked his glans before working her way down his hard shaft. Her hands tightened on his hips as one slippery finger worked its way into her asshole. She went rigid when his fingertip wandered across her prostate. I hope whoever I go to bed with tonight is good with just cuddling. His prostate seemed to pulse against her fingers. Her muscles relaxed into spasms of release. She keened with pleasure as he flicked his tongue against her frenulum.
He continued to torture her with the intense stimulation.
She reached for some of the coconut oil near her. Nails recently trimmed. She gathered up a dollop with her index finger before reaching around to stroke him between the cheeks, first the trembling ring of muscle, then gently into his asshole as he relaxed with deep groans. With the change from external to internal massage, she tasted the first bit of his pre-cum. She added a finger and tapped them against his prostate.
He pulled off her cock. “Please, please, fuck my asshole! Whatever position you want me. Rough, just move me!”
At his pleading, she pulled off his cock and pushed him flat on her bed. She kneed his legs apart and reached under him to unbend his cock. She smiled when he arched his lower back, presenting his hole to her. She grabbed more oil and stroked her cock with it. She eased her foreskin down a little more before thrusting into his asshole. “You feel so good,” she moaned.
The comforter muffled his response into unintelligible sounds.
She grabbed his shoulders and fucked him hard. The tight sheath of his asshole caressed her shaft as her balls pulled up tight against her body. “Don't know how long I'll last before shooting my wad into your pretty little ass.”
He turned his head so his cheek pressed into the bed. “Come whenever you're ready. I already feel so wonderful from your loving.” He straightened his head so his lips again pressed into the comforter. His fingers curled into the fabric.
Closing her eyes, she bathed in the sensation of making love to him. She pushed her hands under his hips and lifted him so she thrust deeper into his asshole. She pressed her open mouth against his shoulder, but didn't bite. “Gonna. Gonna fill.” She pounded into him. “Love. My. Love.”
Grunting, he pushed back his hips even as he gripped his asscheeks.
The cum pushed out of her into him as the orgasm and ejaculation seemed to make her heart skip a beat. With the rush of her own pleasure, he grunted again and then went rigid. She kissed the back of his neck where his hair had fallen aside.
His hands slipped to the bed. He lifted his head slight to ask, “Good game?”
“Yeah.” She rolled to his side. “Good game. Cuddle for awhile before a shower?”
“Sounds good. Then we can have some more of those fries Didier made us.”
She laughed. “Sure, lover.”
Not feeling too good, so it took me until Monday morning to manage to finish this piece, but the gorgeous inspiration picture Kayla picked by @EdgeEcstatic totally gave me the idea for the scene; I'm so glad he shared the image on Twitter. To me, he totally looked like Ely, after he'd lived with The Queen awhile and had the chance to grow out his hair some.
The Queen shook talcum powder over Ely's naked body. He rubbed the powder over pecs, abs, thighs. Holding a pair of dark brown leather pants, he ordered, “Boy, step in.”
His trembling just visible, Ely stepped in with one leg, the powder easing the way. He gazed into his Master's piercing blue eyes as his body obeyed the rest of the order.
“Good boy,” The Queen purred as he cupped Ely's cock over the removable panel. He lifted a black leather vest and held it for the boy to slip his arms in. After buttoning the two shiny brass buttons at the bottom, he traced his index finger down the middle of Ely's chest.
“My Queen,” Ely whimpered.
The Queen secured a thick gray leather band on one of Ely's biceps and then the other. He crossed the room to remove a tub of coconut oil from a chest. He took Ely's right hand and squeezed some oil onto the palm. Then he sat in a nearby throne. “Remove the crotch piece and make yourself come.”
“Yes, my Queen.” Ely's thin fingers sought out the edge of the leather piece; the echo of the button halves separating filled the room. The leather falling to floor, he grasped his semi-hard cock with his right hand. His shoulder length blond hair fell forward.
“I like this longer hair, boy.” The Queen palmed his erection through his jeans. He adjusted himself so he didn't push against the zipper. He let a grin appear on his parted lips as Ely's hand slid up and down his hardening cock. Feeling his pulse increase, he enjoyed the show. Gleaming moisture collected across the parts of Ely's chest revealed by the vest. His fingers wandered over his own chest; he wallowed in the intense pleasure. “How hungry are you, my boy?”
“Huh, Queen?” Ely grunted.
“How. Hungry. Are. You? To come? To make me come?” The Queen taunted, carefully pronouncing his words.
“Both. Very. Come. Please, my Queen.” He pulled his foreskin up with his next stroke before pushing it back down for his fingers to move over his glans.
“What was my order?” The Queen pinched his nipple; his toes curled into the carpet.
“To... to make myself... come.” Ely's hips swayed back and forth. “My Queen.” His left hand traveled to his chest, moving through his gorgeous hair.
“I want you to come into your hand and then bring it to me.” The Queen's tongue moved against the inside of his mouth.
“Yes! Yes, my Queen.” Ely panted and rocked on his feet. His left hand slipped down to rub and squeeze his balls.
The Queen pulled the button loose on his jeans and pulled the zipper down. He eased his hard cock out. His hands both moved to his chest, fingertips traveling through his dense chest hair.
Ely grunted. “Yes, my Queen! Ca--coming! My Queen! Unh!” He wrapped his hand around the head of his cock. He dropped to the floor, his left hand and knees stopping his fall. Crawling one handed, he quickly made it to The Queen.
Leaning over, The Queen grabbed Ely's right fist with one hand and his hair with the other. He lead Ely's mouth onto his cock before he pried open the fingers holding onto the cum that he feasted on.
Deep groans and grunts sounded from around The Queen's cock. Ely rocked his hips as the first spurt of The Queen's cum hit the back of his throat.
“Good boy.” The Queen's hand tightened in Ely's hair. His feet moved to press against Ely's hips. “Good, good boy.” He let the boy's wet hand fall to his knee as he leaned forward to kiss his moist forehead. “And now to the music room to relax.”
“Thanks, my Queen,” Ely gasped, his mouth resting on The Queen's lower abs.
Check out the other hot bloggers taking part in #MasturbationMonday this week here.
I'd asked for some help on this scene on Facebook; I ended up finishing it, although this and the preceding scene are still going to a beta reader for help on Iovita's talking- she's lived her whole life in Georgia, USA, so that's gonna inform her word choice. I don't want to overdo it though, so I've asked for help. I just don't know how much I want, but having had her sign and type mostly so far is making this tricky.
“How about that massage now?” I'm so hungry for touch. She lit the coconut cream and lavender scented candle on her nightstand.
“I'd like that.” Iovita rested her head on her pillow. She lay still as Mairead pulled off her socks and then wrestled off her dress.
“I do so enjoy when you go without underclothes.” Grabbing the bottle of relaxation oil, she moved to Iovita's feet. “You want me to start on your front?”
“It's not like I'm a cishet guy who's gonna be all silly about a woman rubbing on me.” Iovita pulled a scrunched and silly facial expression.
“Uh huh.” She poured some oil onto one palm before putting the stopper in the bottle's neck again. “Tell me if any part feels too tender for rubbing.”
Mairead grasped Iovita's right foot, her thumb running along the sole. She collected some of the oil with her other hand before working on both of Iovita's feet. She inhaled quietly and smiled at the scent of Iovita's arousal over the massage oil. So beautiful. So loving. After rubbing the feet for several more minutes, she let her hands wander to Iovita's ankles. “Calves sore?”
“Not that I feel particular soreness. It's my hips and lower back that are particularly tender,” Iovita said.
“Okay.” Mairead collected some more oil before starting on Iovita's shins with both hands. Her fingers ran through the luxurious leg hair. “I don't know how I ended up in such varied relationships all with people who keep their body hair natural. Well except for Happy's color choices.”
Iovita laughed. “We enjoy sex in the bodies we have. Why bother? Anyway, don't you enjoy the way I use limited energy?”
Grinning, Mairead shook her head at Iovita's comments. “Of course. I'm just glad that even you here in the US where femmes are pressured to shave don't seem to have that cultural baggage. I'm not sure how the trans women here do it, unless they're super obvious about it like Jacob Tobia.”
“Yeah. I think, as a visibly disabled person, I'm not expected to have a sex life at all so I almost get a pass.”
“That's just rubbish.” Mairead moved up to rubbing Iovita's knees, working on one at a time with both hands. “But then there's all too many who don't see long distance relationships such as ours valid.” She licked her lips. “Would you say we're queerplatonic, you and I?”
“You asking seriously or as a roundabout why of asking for something after my massage?” Iovita arched her eyebrow.
“Maybe both?” Mairead shrugged and moved onto the top of Iovita's left thigh. “I don't want to push you into anything physical just 'cause we're living together.”
“We haven't normally engaged in any of the forms of sexuality present in our polyamorous relationship, but I might like too.” Iovita moaned softly as Mairead's hands slid down onto the sides of her thighs. “Okay, not might. I would like to, but I'm not having a lower pain day and I always feel guilty about my ability to reciprocate physically.”
“This isn't the baseball game being scored that is cishet sexuality.” Mairead brushed her fingertips over Iovita's hip creases, just below the swell of her belly. “There's no porno cum shot moment to be had with our bodies.” She poured some of the relaxation oil over her lower stomach and started rubbing gently. “How's your stomach feeling this evening?”
“A little queasy. The cobbler looked so good, but I think maybe it was sweeter than I should have had.”
Mairead nodded and significantly reduced her rubbing so that it was just her hands moving across Iovita's stomach.