I love my penetrative toys. While I don’t always have a desire to be penetrated (and my clit gets a lot of attention when I wank) when I feel the need to be filled, vibration rarely enters into what I desire: for me it’s about the shape of the dildo, the solidity of the object, its girth and its length. I retain a focus on the material it’s made of and how it interacts with my labial lips, my vulva, and my slippery interior; the heft in my palm and weight in my belly; and the pressure I can use with it against various interior delicious spots. Mmm. Just writing about it makes me grin!
I turn thirty-six today – and I’ve had an incredibly awesome day! However the fun really got started a few days early, as on Friday night Enyo and I attended the awesome queer kinky party, Rough House (held at Basement) – and had lots of scratchy switchy sexy fun together, perved at lots of other folks having fun, and had some great conversations with friends and strangers alike. It was crowded and noisy and Satan Claus was in attendance with his big stick (and making good lubed up use of it, by the sounds of it), and it was a blast.
For a long time I was uncomfortable with the term ‘queer’ – at least when it came to applying it to myself. Despite knowing that many people regard it as an umbrella term for those of diverse sexual orientations and gender identities, it didn’t feel like it was a label that was right for me.
I’m quite particular about my labels. I really like to have them, with the proviso that I have chosen them myself – and I write them on removable stickers, in pencil! So sure, I’ve plastered myself with pansexual and polyamorous – either of which is enough for various friends to tell me that the label suited me. But I needed to work it through for myself, to see if it was a term I could come to terms with, reconcile to my sense of identity.
Sometimes I get so horny I could bust. And when that happens, a whole lot of orgasms is the result, often for days at a time.
When I’m in this state of being I become very focused on my physical reactions. It’s not to the exclusion of everything else – I’m still going about my life – but it takes so very little for me to be right back there, thinking about the fuck. This time around I’ve been über-horny for the last ten days or so. My standard routine is to masturbate three or four times a week, with bonus partnered sexual escapades, and the occasional porno DVD or short video. But now I’ve ramped right up – I’m watching multiple clips; wanking two-three times daily (for quite long periods of time) – and I cannot stop thinking about all things sexy.
Last Saturday was two years since my brother-the-human died. So Apollo and I went out to visit him, in his new form as the ocean. He’s been the ocean ever since we scattered his ashes there, on the date of his birthday in 2011.
Auckland is on an isthmus, so we’re surrounded by ocean on all sides – I can get to the sea in under five minutes from where I live, driving down to the local wharf. But that’s not where my brother-the-ocean is. He’s at Bethell’s Beach, or Te Henga. While the ocean stretches around Auckland, and from there around the country and the world, he is, I believe, content to explore the great West Coast beaches area, basing himself at Te Henga.
The Wankfest 2012 challenge – to masturbate 3 times daily for the month of May – is over. While a bad cold meant that there were five days where I only masturbated once or twice, I did complete the entire month, and I am quite pleased to have done so!
You can see the spreadsheet, comprising all thirty-one days, eighty-four sessions, and what got me off, here.
You can also read my previous updates, throughout the month, here:
Today is the very last Wanton Wednesday – so I’ve decided to be even more wanton than usual, and send it off in style!
If you’ve been reading my blog a while, you will have seen my Clit Clamp (with bell) before. This tiny clamp has caused me a great deal of trouble in the past. There was, sure, one hell of an orgasm at Bastion Point, but prior to that were was a car with hard suspension, lots of judder bars, and me with said clamp on my nethers for hours. I remember it mostly with a gritting of teeth, while Hylas thinks of it considerably more fondly – and has a blast teasing me about it!
The morning after I returned from Melbourne, I woke up to an email from Amie Wee, asking if I wanted to come with her and get interviewed about sex blogging and social media for this show called The Social Life.
Me: jetlagged, bruised, and very tired. So why the hell not?
I’m very glad I took Amie, and Lewis Bostock, up on their invitation. I had a lovely time, and I think the interview came out fantastically. Having permission to wear m’Lady’s collar calmed and centred me, too.
What does one have to do with the other? Well, when I was eight I memorised a poem for a class competition (and I won a book – I have always loved owning my own books, so it was a good incentive). The poem was an A.A. Milne one – and I memorised it well, so I’ve been able to recall it ever since.
Which is very handy if you’re being told to recite a poem whilst your inner labia are being pinched, pulled, squeezed, twisted, and otherwise tormented. A poem that you can remember – one that you can belt out the first verse of, albeit somewhat raggedly and with the occasional additional interjected swear word – is an extremely useful thing to have.
I like putting Hylas into rubber – and he likes being put into it! It’s a good relationship set-up. Where things get complicated is when someone suggests that I be the one put into the rubber instead…
In this instance it’s a Vacuum Bed – which is full-enclosure, surround-sound, rubber everywhere. Don’t know what a vac bed is? If these pics and video don’t give you some idea, the forthcoming post all about Vacuum Beds will!keep looking »