Things that don't suck

Having an ex text me and tell me that he had an awesome dream/fantasy about me, then describe it and tell me he was going to go and masturbate :)

New webcomics make me happy- SOSOSOSO NSFW

Realizations

Some part of me still believes in happily ever after.

The little girl in the back of my head, the one who remembers watching "Sleeping Beauty" over 500 times in one year.
And no, I'm not exaggerating.

She believes in Prince Charming, and forever.

The rest of me knows that Prince Charming is really a drunk frat boy, and forever is a myth.

But there is still a part of me that believes the myth, believes the sugar-coated cyanide lie, and still lookf for it.

Every new relationship, I go through a period where some part of me thinks that maybe this will be my fairy-tale ending. Maybe this time will be happily ever after. It never is. It never will be.

Even if it could be, I'm not cut out to be a pretty domestic princess in a fairy-tale castle.

But some part of me wants to be, and it's a fresh wound, every time that I realize it won't happen.

My life is made of awesome.

Note: this is not me whining or asking for sympathy- in fact, I'm moody enough that I'll probably get pissed if you offer it- it's just an explanation of why I'm being quiet.

This isn't the place for my personal drama, and I've tried to keep it to a minimum here.
But I'm going to be very quiet for a while, and I think an explanation is reasonable.

There's... a lot going on.
A whole lot.

Aside from school speeding up in preparation for exams next month, we still have Sarah the pit bull puppy, November is my depressed/vulnerable/insane month every year (every major death I've had has been in November, excluding Nana who was Winter Solstice), and then, just to make my life even more interesting...
my godfather was in a motorcycle accident. His left leg, just below the knee, was amputated. He's doing fine, his usual cantankerous self, but it means that my life just got way more interesting. His ex-wife is a raving drunk who can't drive, or, well, *function* in any kind of stressful situation, which means that his son, my godson, is my responsibility.
Fortunately, my godson has more sense than both of his parents put together. He's 17, and pretty much raised himself.
But it means that since he doesn't have a car (or his license, only a permit), I have to take him to get his license, handle the lawyer and police reports from the accident, ensure that he gets not only to school (on the way-far-away side of town), but to the aviation college (on the other way-far-away side of town) every day, eats, and that their bills get paid.
Oh yeah, and write two papers for my *own* classes.

And just to prove that my life is made of awesome?

Saturday while hanging out with Lucivar I had a random physical *and* emotional breakdown, and then:

my hot water heater went out this morning, so I haven't had a shower.

Fucking awesome.

Hoorah!

Happy Veteran's Day, folks.

Bottoming to Lucivar

I don't really like pain, I told him.
I'm not a masochist, and it's hard for me to relax into submitting because I have to fight myself to 'behave'. It makes it hard to submit because I have to keep that level of control over myself and therefore can't give it to you.

He nodded. I'm used to subbing, he told me, and I learned my Topping style from her. And she likes to hurt me.

I know, I said. It's just harder for me.

Well, I'll try, he said, and then he tightened his hand in my hair.
I whimpered and slipped under immediately. I don't know why I slip under so easily with him. I am extremely picky about who I sub to, but he's had my buttons since that first Saturday morning in his bed.
I trust him.
I don't know exactly why, but I trust him more than I have nearly ever trusted someone so quickly.

He smiled when he saw the immediate slackness of my features, the way my body went pliant in his grip.
He just moved my head around for a few moments by my hair, emphasizing his ability to do so, emphasizing the control over me. I don't know how other people would respond to this, but I'm a horse trainer.
One of the central tenets of horse training is that where the horse's head goes, their body goes. Get their head pointed in the right direction, and you'll have the horse moving there eventually. So that simple action- dragging my head around by my short hair- has a profound effect on my state of mind.

I tumbled down the rabbit hole, and every muscle in my body went limp as I hung in his grip.

Please, I breathed.
Please what? I closed my eyes, I didn't know how to answer. I never do when I'm asked that. I don't know what it is that I'm begging for. Maybe, simply, more.

I think he understood, because when I opened my eyes again his had softened, just a little. Breathe in, he told me. I obeyed, and then his hand was over my mouth, blocking my nose. I felt a brief spurt of panic, as I do every time, then closed my eyes and relaxed into his hand. Relaxed into the knowledge that I would breathe when he let me, and something tight inside of me let go at that realization. Just as I started to need to breathe, as the first tightness settled into my chest, he took his hand away. But before I could suck in the air that my body craved, his fingers moved to my pinch my nose and his palm was replaced by his lips. When I opened my mouth to him, he breathed into me and I sucked him, and the air and life he represented greedily. I breathed him in, and his kiss gave me life.

Suddenly, the heaviness in my chest intensified painfully and I stared at him with wide eyes that I could feel filling with tears.
I saw through the kaleidescope effect of my tears as his face softened to something like tenderness.
He kissed my forehead, Let it out, baby. I started to shake my head, to protest, say, No, I don't do this in front of people! I can't cry... but the tenderness shining in his eyes was more than I could say no to, and the tears spilled over my cheeks in two hot trails.

I cried against him, sobbed and whimpered. This time, I was aware that my sobs were silent, even my one long scream was without noise. I knew why I was silent this time, knew that I didn't want to disturb anyone else, knew that on some level I was still afraid to be too noisy, too messy, too whatever for fear that he would push me away.
But he didn't. His hands were gentle around me while I cried, until eventually I looked up at him, my eyes red and puffy from the tears still drying on my cheeks, my skin mottled red from the sobs, and told him, I have no idea where that came from. But thank you, I told him.
I didn't know any way to express to him how incredibly much that meant to me.
How hard it is for me to trust someone enough to cry in front of them.
How deeply it makes me love him that he allowed me that safe space.
How incredibly grateful that I felt in that moment.

Maybe he did understand, because he kissed the top of my head. You're welcome, baby.

No such thing

Nothing lasts forever
Not you not me not her
Nothing lasts forever
So don't drip promises from your eyes

Don't vibrate your sincerity at me
You mean it
You'd never lie
But nothing lasts forever
and everybody dies.

Don't offer me the safety of your arms
When your arms will go away
Don't swear you'll always love me
When always is a dream of a lie

There's no such thing as forever
There's no such thing as forever
There's no such thing as forever for me.

Newsflash:

Bella has severe abandonment issues, and they're nowhere near worked out.

That is all.

Sensitive

I feel incredibly sensitive this morning. I know that phrase is usually used in a negative light, as in being sensitive to every little word as an insult, every small slight as an abandonment, but that's not exactly how I mean it this morning.

I feel sensitive, as though every ray of light touching my skin is a small caress.
I feel sensitive, as though I can clearly feel every fiber of the shirt I'm wearing.
I feel sensitive, as though were it not cloudy, the sunlight might hurt my eyes.
I feel sensitive, as though every expression of being loved and wanted means a little more than usual.
I feel sensitive, as though every brush of skin against mine could make my heart grip painfully with the intensity of love and gratitude that I feel for all of the people in my life.

What is it with me and strays?!

So Tuesday, on Election Day, at the polling place, Jack and I found a stray pit bull puppy.
So we took her home, and named her Sarah ;-)

Then, yesterday, while going out horseback riding with a friend from elementary school (the price of living in one's hometown is running into people you ave known since kindergarten), we found another pit bull puppy tied to a tree in the middle of the woods. She was 3/4 starved, but desperately friendly when I approached her on foot.
I couldn't take her home, not after having just spent $75 on Sarah's vet bills, with a potential $475 pending.
So we called the Sheriff's office, and he sent a deputy to pick her up. I just hope that the county doesn't automatically euthanize pit bulls the way that the city does.

But I didn't have the courage to ask.

What is it with me and strays? Why am I unable to pass them by? It really makes me wonder what is it about them that strikes such a chord in me- because they do. I can't pass a stray cat or dog anywhere without wanting to stop and take them home, give them better lives.

Why do strays strike a chord in me?
I think that I think of myself as one. As a child, I was shuttled off from one family member to the next because my parents didn't have the ability or desire to care for me. I was dumped off on family members, like a puppy on the road when it became too much trouble to care for.

And on some level, I am still a stray puppy just looking for a place to feel safe.

Is it any wonder that I cannot resist the need to take home other strays, and offer them safety?

Yes, we can- we have.

Sucking Jack's cock

It was time to go to a friend's house and watch the election results. Jack had been napping all afternoon, so I went to wake him up.
The bedroom was dark and cool, with our rainstorm cd surging softly in the background. I flipped on the light just as he threw the covers back and he was exposed to me.
Jack sleeps naked.
He was sprawled on his back, nude. His skin bright against our sage green sheets, legs spread wide, one arm thrown over his eyes and his cock half-hard and dark against the curling nest of his trimmed cockhair.
He is so beautiful.

I couldn't resist, and after almost three years, I didn't bother trying.
I crawled onto the bed, full dressed to his nudity, and took him into my mouth.
It was almost abrupt, there was no foreplay, no kissing, no playing. Just the taste of his cock between my lips. Jack gasped, I think he just expected me to rub against it like I usually do, but I took his cock all the way into my warm, wet mouth.
He made a small noise, and I stroked my tongue across the head of him. I drew back and ran my teeth along the length of his cock, then pressed forward, swallowing him, until my lips kissed his cockhair. He moaned, and I drew back, swirling my tongue around the head of him and looking up to let him see the raw hunger in my eyes. I wanted this. Wanted the taste of him, the feel of him.

I didn't walk into this relationship a virgin. Not by a long shot. And I love cocks. I love the shapes of them, the flavors of them, the textures of them. When combined with my oral fixation... well, I love oral sex. I love sucking cock, and I love sucking Jack's cock more than any other.

I settled into that rhythm that he loves, fast and deep, the same rhythm he loves to use when he's fucking me. My fingers dug into his thighs and he made little sounds in his throat with every stroke of my mouth. Finally, when he was ready to cum, he took my hair in his hands, gripping tightly and fucking my mouth. Yes, I know it's more submissive than I usually like to go, but I love this moment. I love the grip of his hands in my hair (short though it is now!) and the thrust of his hips beneath me. I love the soft, desperate sounds he makes and the way his hips pump into my mouth until I feel him twitch and cum in me and I'm swallowing and making small sounds of pleasure myself.

We only slowly come down... my mouth still moving slowly over him, gently now where he's so post-orgasmically sensitive, my hands tender against his thighs.

Finally, I drew away, kissed his cock lightly, playfully now, and told him to get dressed, it was time to go...

Election Day Vignettes

Jack and I live in a predominantly black neighborhood in a poor section of town. In other words, we're surrounded by disenfranchised voters. We have never seen much excitement on this side of town about elections- these folks are more concerned about whether they can make WIC cover their groceries this month than who's in the White House, and if their car will make it to work one more day than whether two women can get married.
But this morning, when we went to go and vote before class, there was a line at our polling place that wrapped around the building. We had an hour before class, but there's no way we would have made it in in time. We have never been so happy to see a ridiculously long line.

The amazing Susie Bright, whose book The Sexual State of the Union, got me started writing and thinking about sex as more than just something my hormones wanted me to have, posted on her blog today that we should call her and tell her our election stories.
So I did. We chatted for a little while, actually, and I told her about her book starting my journey of sexual exploration, as well as what it's like to be a blue dot in a very, very red state.
I also told her about meeting Sarah.

Jack and I went to vote this afternoon, once it had died down a bit, and that's where we saw Sarah.

Sarah was in the parking lot, dirty and half-starved. We called to her and fed her some Nutter Butters from my backpack, then went in to vote. We agreed before even going in that we were going to end up taking her home. She was obviously someone's baby at some point- docked tail, either spayed or kept carefully away from males (virgin)- but had equally obviously been ont he streets for a little while- skinny and skittish as hell. And no, we can't take her to the pound- they euthanize bulldogs here, rather than adopt them out.
So we went in to vote, and got followed in by a little bulldog.
Whom we took home.

So our new pit bull mix, whome we found at the polling place on election day, we're calling Sarah... I'll have to take a picture of her in lipstick ;-)




So... um... would anyone like a dog?


Oh and guess what?! This is my 100th post to this blog! Woohooo!

I'm back at home. Nothing amazing to report, aside from the fact that I am increasingly eager to get moved to Atlanta.

Tomorrow is election day- for Goddess' sake, go vote!

Thoughts from Tampa

My favorite Unitarian Universalist hymn:

A firemist and a planet, a crystal and a cell,
a starfish and a saurian, and caves where ancients dwelt;
the sense of law and beauty, a face turned from the sod –
some call it evolution and others call it God.

Like tides on crescent sea-beach, when moon’s so new and thin,
into our hearts high yearnings come welling, surging in,
come from the mystic ocean whose rim no foot has trod –
some people call it longing, and others call it God.

"I'll tell you the horrible truth... no matter what you do or how bad you feel about it, life just goes on. Life doesn't give a fuck that you're sorry or upset or deranged or tormented. Life just goes on, and you gotta go on with it, or sit in the middle of the road and feel sorry for yourself." -Blue Moon (Laurell K. Hamilton, p 399)

Samhain

Today is Samhain.
Today is the day when from the moment I wake to the moment I drug myself to sleep, the faces of those I have lost whisper behind my eyes.

My mother, with her drunken good-night kisses and bitter naivete.
My Mema, with her ever-open arms and deep-rooted faith in a vengeful, loving God.
My Nana, with her soft heart and steel spine.

Vainkitten, with her her darkness and her naivete.
Ranger, who shared my life and my home without judgement.

My brother, who I believed loved me.

Oh, there are others. There are so many others. Joseph, who sang to me, "Sober," trying to warn me about his own untrustworthiness. Wolf, my once-consort, who still is in my life but not in the way that either of us would like. Jewel, who loved me with a deep and abiding love, and whose heart and loyalty I broke. Sunny, who never once stopped challenging me.
Some of them I don't even allow myself to think about anymore, and I probably won't remember until tomorrow morning.

There are more- there are always more. But those are the ones whose names aren't merely written on my heart today, but carved into it.

Tonight, while everyone else is at the party, I will lay the table for the Dumb Feast, and I will eat my dinner surrounded by my ghosts. I will close my eyes and see them in front of my face, and I will speak to them. I will tell my ghosts that they are not forgotten, that they are still written in my soul, and that their memories are still cherished.

Happy Samhain, my friends.

I'm in Florida this weekend, in a small town outside of Gainesville.
Jack's parents live here, and he is visiting them. Originally, I wasn't going to go- this was his trip, as my trips to Atlanta are mine.
But at the last minute, I agreed to go. I've just set up our wireless router in his mom's house (where we nearly always stay), and I'll be posting about Samhain soon.

Samhain

Tomorrow is Samhain.
Yes, people, that's Hallowe'en. All Hallow's Eve.
Samhain.
The Day of the Dead.
The Day of Remembrance.
The day pagans like me remember those who have gone before us, who have passed through the veil.
It's both solemn and merry- we laugh to remember the good times together, and we cry to know that those we love are gone. We treasure the memories of those who have been with us, and if sometimes our laughs are sometimes choked with sobs, and our tears sometimes drip onto smiles, well then, that is how the day goes.

Samhain has always been a hard day for me. I use it to celebrate not only those who have passed on, but those who have simply passed out of my life.
And there are a lot of those.
Some for the better, and some still leave an aching hole in my heart.

This Samhain, I don't know yet where I will be or what I will do. I may go to Atlanta, but if I do then I don't know where yet.
I don't do Halloween parties, at least not on Samhain night.
Many Samhains, I cook a Dumb Feast, and I invite my loved ones who are still with us. We set a place at the table for those we have lost, and we share joy and tears in their memories.
This Samhain, I don't know if I will have the opportunity to do that.
But wherever I am, those I love and have lost will be in my heart.

Anita Blake

"We all know in some ancient part of ourselves that blood is the thing. Without it, we die. Steal enough of it from our enemies and we steal their lives. There's a reason that blood has been associated with almost every religion on the planet. It's primal stuff, and no matter how snaitized we make our world, part of us still recognizes that." -The Killing Dance (Laurell K. Hamilton, p. 181)

Erotica

I sent in my sumission for the Erotica: A Woman's View anthology yesterday.

I'll let everyone know if I make it, once I find out.

Meanwhile, I'm still feeling like crap. Come cuddle me and keep me supplied with tea.
Now.
Please?

Sick

I feel like crap- stuffy nose, light-headed, freezing cold (fever), and massive headache.

Needless to say, I probably won't be posting much for the next couplt of days.

Long story short, though, Terry got sick Sunday morning and she and Lucivar stayed an extra day. Can they please just move in with us? I really do love having people in my house.

Weekend

Terry and Lucivar came to visit.
In fact, I'm writing this early in the morning (ok, 0830) as everyone else sleeps in a little. We went out to my favorite gay bar last night- a little hole-in-the-wall with the best drinks, best bartender, and sweetest people ever. I'll never be able to replace it once I move.

There's nothing spectacularly kinky to report- they got in late Friday night and we all hung out for a bit, went to the Farmer's Market and the beach, then to dinner with my minister and his husband and another very kinky couple Jack and I are close to, and this morning, post-services, we'll be going horseback riding at a friend of mine's.
Well, the conversations have been spectacularly kinky, and it seems like it may have been an interesting relief for them to be able to be open in what was ostensibly a vanilla setting about their interests and dynamic.

Quick vignettes:
Yesterday, at the beach... I live 45 minutes from some of the nicest beaches on the Gulf Coast. Seriously, I do. It's an easy drive, but I haven't made it in 3 years. Don't ask me why, I just never have.
Yesterday, with Terry and Lucivar, I did. We wandered the sugar-sand beaches looking for shells (Terry is a woman obsessed!), and every little while I would get tired of that (read: a crick in my neck) and make my way to the water's edge. I stood barefoot in the surf, feeling the cool, salty water caress my toes, and looked out over the endless horizon. The waves dug small holes in the sand around my feet, creating arch supports for me as the sun warmed (read: burned) my shoulders.
In those moments, there with earth beneath my feet and air blowing mischeviously around me, ancient water lapping at my ankles and the fiery sun caressing my skin, there with people I love around me, there I felt my heart fill until I wanted to simply scream out how incredibly blessed I am.

Last night, at the bar, the cigar smoke got too heavy (one of our friends is a pretty serious cigar smoker- his humidor is worth more than my car, and its contents worth more than most anything I own!) with he, his beautiful wife, and Lucivar all smoking, so I wandered outside (okay, staggered light-headedly... did I mention I'm a might allergic to smoke? One of the reasons I rarely go to bars) into the courtyard which was blissfully empty. I leaned against the railing, staring down into the algae-covered landscape pond, and wheezing a little as I tried to clear my head of the smoky cobwebs caused by the lack of oxygen. Jack and Lucivar came out to check on me, and there for a few moments, I stood there between them, surrounded by their love and concern, the love of my friends inside still glowing like a warm haven just a few feet away.

Today, we'll go horseback riding, where I am more comfortable than I am on my two feet. I'll probably ride bareback, doing little levades and caprioles on whichever horse needs work the most. Most of these won't be consensual on my part, more a constant, low-level 'discussion' of what direction we're going and at what speed. I'll ride between two of my favorite people, probably giving a running riding lesson even as I ignore half of my own advice in the argument with my mount.
And I'll grin ear to ear, because the Universe really, really loves me.

Dreaming

Last night, at the end of a long, complicated dream, the plot of which involved me being the middle or possibly oldest daughter of a large family, my mother nearly died.
In the dream, I sprinted across the blacktop in my bare feet, the long skirts and petticoats tangling around my legs until I cursed them. My mother- actually my adopted mom is who she truly resembled- was sitting in the front seat of a car, obviously recovering from some kind of petit mal seizure or similar event (I will not discuss the juxtaposition of my wearing petticoats while my mother was in a car. It was a dream. Get over it, I have)
I threw myself down next to her in the panic reaction I never allow myself in real life, bawling into her chest that she can't go away, that I love her.
Her voice was strained but her words were soothing, I will never lose her.
I woke up with sobs heavy in my chest.

This is where I live

Most everyone int he pervy community knows that Alabama is the last state in the US to ban the same of sex toys.
In 1998, Alabama enacted a statute that forbade the distribution, possession for distribution, or offer to distribute devices "designed or marketed as useful primarily for the stimulation of the human genital organs[.]"
This law was challenged in 1999, but was upheld by judges worried about "public morality."

Alabama law also still prosecutes sodomy, and yes, cunnilingus is included under it.
The first reported sodomy case (with a human) was Woods v. State, in 1914. This case had to decide if fellatio constituted a violation of the law. The Alabama Court of Appeals decided unanimously that it was. Lifting verbatim from the Illinois Honselman decision (q.v.), the Court decided that fellatio was a crime against nature, without giving any analysis for its conclusion.

In the next reported sodomy case, Brown v. State, from 1945, the Alabama Supreme Court dealt with the issue of cunnilingus and the crime against nature statute. In an opinion notable for its lack of analysis, the Court decided that cunnilingus was just as much a crime against nature as fellatio.

And, my personal favorite,
In 1935, trying to expand the existing therapeutic sterilization law, Alabama attempted to go the rest of the country one better with a bill to include

"those suffering from perversions, constitutional psychopathic personalities or marked departures from normal mentality[.]"

This group included any inmate of a penal institution or insane asylum whose "physical, mental or moral condition" would be improved and who was a

"sexual pervert, Sadist, homosexualist, Masochist, Sodomist, or any other grave form of sexual perversion [sic]."

The sterilization law was struck down as unconstitutional, BUT:
In 1951, Alabama joined the chorus of states singing the praises of psychopathic offender laws by enacting its own statute in which anyone convicted of a sex offense could be referred for a psychiatric examination if believed to be a criminal sexual psychopathic person. If so found, the individual could be committed to an institution until "fully and permanently" recovered from the psychopathy. If recovered and discharged, the prisoner was to be placed on probation "for such reasonable time as the circumstances may justify."
In 1961, Alabama revised its psychopathic offender law to eliminate the need for a criminal conviction to trigger the operation of the law. One merely had to be "charged with" a sexual offense in order to have proceedings instituted.
(This was deemed unconstitutional in 1973.)

Alabama passed a comprehensive criminal code revision in 1977.
The sodomy law was changed to "sexual misconduct," which outlawed "deviate sexual conduct."
The definition of "deviate sexual conduct" was

any act of sexual gratification between persons not married to each other, involving the sex organs of one person and the mouth or anus of another.

Consent was no defense,and the penalty was set at up to one year in jail. In addition, a "public lewdness" provision was enacted to prohibit "any lewd act in a public place" which the offender "knows is likely to be observed by others who would be affronted or alarmed." Thus, simple acts like kissing or hand holding could get a Gay man or Lesbian into trouble.

All of this comes from The History of Sodomy Laws in the US, and references are there.

Yeah. And I live here.
Although in Alabama's defense, although I can't find a date of revocation, the sodomy laws are no longer on the books- I've checked. Only one which protects minors (ages 12-16) from sodomy by an older person (over the age of 16) is still present. This is most likely due to the Lawrence v. Texas case which ruled unconstitutional all state sodomy laws.

Erotica: A Woman’s View

Hot Red Apple.com is currently accepting submissions for an upcoming coffee-table book, titled “Erotica: A Woman’s View”. This project will consist of erotic fantasies written by women, and exquisite photographs taken by Gary depicting those fantasies. Are you a woman? Do you like to write about your erotic fantasies? Have you always dreamed of getting published? Here is your chance!

What Will I Get In Return?
If your work is chosen for inclusion, you will receive the following:
1 copy of the coffee table-book “Erotica: A Woman’s View”
1 (one) 11x14 museum-quality giclee print of the image that accompanies your story, signed by Gary and ready for framing
Online publication of your work in our “Erotica: A Woman’s View” gallery.

What we will accept:
Erotic stories, written by women, in prose or poetic form.
Original work that has not been previously published.

What we will not accept:
Plagiarized work, or work that has been previously published (yes, we check).
Work that contains references to bestiality or minors under the age of consent.

How to submit your work:
Manuscripts to be no longer than 1500 words, and must be double-spaced, with 1” margins on all sides. There is no minimum word count.
Your work must be submitted as a Microsoft Word document.
Include a page that indicates your real name, the name (if different) that you would like us to publish your work under, and your contact information*.
Verification that you are female and over 18 ( please attach a clear photo of you holding your photo ID next to your face to your email ).
Email your manuscript to admin@hotredapple.com.

*All contact information will be kept strictly confidential. We promise you will not find yourself signed up for spam or junk-mail because of us…
Hot Red Apple.com retains the first publishing rights to all submissions. Submission does not guarantee inclusion in our publication. It is agreed that all submissions may be edited for grammar, length and content.

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I want to do this, but I'm running short on ideas. Someone give me one to write about... inspire me!