Posted on | March 29, 2015 | 20 Comments
If you are a person who plays some sort of sport on some sort of field in New Zealand, this is where you wait if you’re not in play:
Regardless, I’m having a great time waiting to play!
Thanks to Kiana for taking so many great photos with me
Posted on | March 22, 2015 | 21 Comments
Let me set the scene: It’s late on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. Hyperbius and I are sitting in the car, stuck in rush-hour traffic. I’m behind the wheel, he’s in the passenger seat with all his various work detritus at his feet. Music is playing, conversation is flowing. Kisses are happening occasionally when the car is stopped – because, yum.
Then, waiting at the traffic lights, he leans down and gets something out of a box. I have no idea what it is. He tosses it into my lap – and it’s round and soft and green and nobbly.
“I’ve just given you … chlamydia!” He laughs. I crack up. The label indeed, says, “Chlamydia” – it’s a giant microbe plush toy. He thought I needed some cheering up (I did), and so decided this would be perfect (it was).
We both agreed it would have really sucked if he had actually given me chlamydia. Although maybe a plush toy would soften the blow?
So yes. I have chlamydia – or at least a giant microbe version of it. And it’s pretty freaking awesome! I’ve named it ‘Clappy’ (even though the clap is technically for Gonorrhea), and it makes me happy.
With love to Demeter for taking these photos with me. *smooches*
Posted on | March 19, 2015 | 2 Comments
My irregular roundup of interesting reads, found from all over the place.
Content Notes: fatphobia, chronic illness, bisexual erasure.
Fat Characters in Romance and Erotica: “I don’t need characters who never have fat shame, but I would like to sometimes see characters who have worked through the lion’s share of it. I’d love to see fat characters who begin the story already knowing that the daily fatphobia they experience is toxic and wrong and who are working on their internalization of it. Maybe even fat characters who are fat activists, or connected to fat activist community. If the character has to grapple with fat shame in the story, can we please have a character that generally feels pretty good about herself and gets triggered by something specific that she then works through?” (Corey Alexander)
In Sickness and In Health, But Mostly Sickness: “Two people rarely enter into a relationship knowing that one of them will be chronically ill. That comes later. Years in. After longer, more serious commitments have been made. So often, “I love you” carries with it a list of requests: do not leave, do not reject me.” (Drew Zandonella-Stannard / The Hairpin)
Seems Legit: Authenticity, Performativity, and Sex: “It also seems pertinent to mention that we are culturally more likely to embrace women who say their experience of porn was tragic than women who say that it was a neutral or even good experience.” (Kitty Stryker / Tits and Sass)
An Examination of Gender in Viking Age Scandinavia: “The mythological and legendary material contains most of the really undeniable examples of people who can be read as trans. It’s not entirely clear why this is – perhaps the fantastical nature of the genres let people enjoy characters transgressing gender expectations without worrying that similar scary transgressions were happening in their own society.” (Lizzie Colwill / Get Real Cambridge)
My Least Favorite Trope: “You know, I’ve taken a lot of responsibility in my life, and never once has it resulted in me becoming a Chosen One. I guess it’s the lack of a broken chromosome.” (Elizabeth Bear)
Bisexual Makeup Tutorial by Amy Geliebter
Posted on | March 17, 2015 | No Comments
Photo courtesy of Molly’s Daily Kiss
Welcome to Elust #68 –
The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #69? Start with the rules, come back April 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!
For our UK readers, we would like to make a special request that you take a moment and fill out this petition to repeal the new censorship laws.
This Month’s Top Three Posts
Featured Post (Molly’s Picks)
Readers Choice from Sexbytes
Posted on | March 15, 2015 | 5 Comments
Begging as a concept was not something that came easily to me. On occasion with kink partners in the past I had been aroused enough to ask for permission to orgasm, and that made sense to me as part of the scene. But the notion of begging simply to please m’Lady, asking over and over again – and being aware that doing so is absolutely no guarantee I would be permitted to come – perplexed me for quite some time.
I had learned, when growing up, that when I asked and then received a no in return, to stop asking. But that’s not what m’Lady wants. m’Lady wants me to ask. To ask again. To beg and want and need and debase myself. To keep asking and hoping and pleading, fully aware that it pleases em for me to ask, but doesn’t make any difference as to how ey chooses to eventually answer. (Except occasionally it does.)
Learning that was hard for me. As someone who rarely feels shame and doesn’t play with humiliation, this skirts the edge of both. Frequently a little voice in my head asks me if it’s worth it – worth begging for something, worth putting myself in the position of needing to hear the answer.
But, then, by the time I get to begging, I do need it. m’Lady knows that, and I know that too.
So, slowly and clumsily, I learned how to beg in a way that pleased my owner. To not stop after that first no, even as I felt internally that I was whining and annoying as I continued on. To babble and let go, say all the words I was feeling, hoping to please em. More and more frantic, and yet still able to stop on a dime if that final, definitive ‘no’ was spoken. Or to let go with force, orgasming hard, if a ‘yes’ was given.
Sometimes the begging goes too far, I need too much, and m’Lady only gives a ‘yes’ when ey knows I can no longer come – I’ve held back too long. And that pleases em too.
I don’t know what ey thinks when requiring me to beg. I don’t know what ey gets out of it, specifically. But I know that for me to beg pleases m’Lady. And so I ask, and ask again.
A few posts I’ve written including begging:
Click below to see what other people had to say about begging.
Posted on | March 10, 2015 | 2 Comments
At the very end of last year, I opened my email and was absolutely delighted to see a message from Molly (of Molly’s Daily Kiss) asking if she could interview me for her new podcast, the KissCast. Of course I said yes – how awesome was that?
So in early January we got together on Skype and talked enthusiastically about many things, the end result of which is this, the fourth episode of the KissCast. (I recommend the others as well – they’re great listening!) Molly was a wonderful host who asked great questions about all sorts of things. Between the laughter there may even have been some answers!
I listened back through this yesterday and made a note of all the topics we covered. There’s quite a few – I’ve included links here to relevant posts, just for the curious.
- How I got started blogging as Curvaceous Dee (and chose the name)
- Identifying as fat
- Body hair and media perceptions (as well as personal)
- How I started identifying as polyamorous, and as a kinkster
- Meeting Apollo and starting my relationship with him
- Identifying as pansexual
- Identifying as queer
- Long-distance relationships – both my current one with m’Lady, and my first ever relationship (which was also LDR)
- Partners and their new partners
- Being part of an Owner/property dynamic
- Contracts, specifically my Title Deed
- The Scavenger Hunt (but of course!)
- Being an exhibitionist
- Taking derpy photos
- Endorphins in kink, and how they can lead to giggles and tears for me
Thank you again, Molly, for such a fantastic experience – and for being a wonderful person all up!
Posted on | March 8, 2015 | 16 Comments
On Tuesday evening I had Hylas thoroughly bound: wearing latex shorts with a zip for access; a latex hood with open mouth so I could make use of his tongue; rubber mitts on his hands and sheepskin cuffs on his ankles; a spreader bar keeping his legs apart; and rope to ensure he was wide open for me. His cock was jaunty and veined with a ring at the base (plus bonus ribbon for prettiness and texture), and I’d taken great pleasure in opening up and filling his arse. In short, I’d been making most excellent use of him.
But Tuesday evening wasn’t all about him, or not entirely. It was about me enjoying myself – and while I took a lot of pleasure, both sadistic and sexual, in teasing and using him, I also wanted some attention myself. What was I to do?
It was easy, really. I took a break and pleasured myself next to him, knowing that he could feel me move and hear me cry out as I wanked, but was unable to do anything at all but be a pillow for me.
I really do love the Njoy we keep at his house!
As I shlicked the heavy metal in and out of me, I was gratified to hear Hylas start to beg – he desperately wanted to be the one to provide pleasure to me! But I wasn’t ready to stop, so encouraged him to beg more, with details, as I climbed to orgasm.
I was most impressed: his begging was sincere and wanting, and so I chose to give him what we both desired. I put down the Njoy and climbed onto his face instead.
After all, no one said I had to do all the work!
The Njoy photos were taken my Hylas on a previous day – but don’t they go beautifully with this event?
Posted on | March 1, 2015 | 21 Comments
I have been trying to get this Scavenger Hunt location for so long! At various times over the last few years I’ve eyed up three different spots around Auckland: in the central city, out in Albany, and on the Shore near Hylas’ place. Then finally, a few weeks ago, Hylas and I spotted that the Waitemata Fire Area Headquarters in Takapuna had been abandoned/mothballed (a new place has been set up one suburb over). Unfortunately it’s on rather a busy street – midday Saturday was not the time to get photos there.
But on a Tuesday evening as the sun was going down? Perfect.
This picture was fun to get, because we wanted to reflect me, but not Hylas. Also, it’s right by the street, so timing was important! Click through for another ‘next to the main road’ flash.
What am I standing in front of? It’s rather tall – I think it might have been used to dry out the hoses? Click through to see.
This one was great fun to get! There are big doors on both sides of the building, to let the engines in and out. Hylas went around to one side, and I was on the other, at the back of the building. Want to see them in situ? Click through!
As the sun was disappearing we managed to grab just a few more shots (also, doesn’t Hylas take gorgeous photos?). Click through for my final flash for the day.
Did you see the atrocious erotica I posted earlier today?
Posted on | March 1, 2015 | 9 Comments
aka The World’s Most Awful Euphemism Loaded Sex Scene
You can blame Chintz Curtain for starting this – and Lunabelle for encouraging it! The three of us have embarked upon a journey to write atrocious, awful, horrible erotica. Up to 500 words of it. What’s wrong with us?
So, cider at hand and phrases I want to remember to use written down in a notepad (contributions from m’Lady and Hylas are included), here’s my attempt at banging out something really really bad for the “Euph-off” we’re all doing. I would say “enjoy”, but …
(Anyone else want to embark? Hop aboard!)
Of course this is heteronormative, as part of making it terrible. Feel free to queer this as much as you can be bothered.
There was nothing but the two of them – the rest of the world had ceased to exist. As they rolled around naked, clothes ripped asunder and discarded onto the floor, she could feel her love cupcake bubbling like the Tar Pits of La Brea.
Hovering over her, he hoped she hadn’t noticed the smegma he’d missed in his swift bath, and prepared to insert his turgid stem inside her. With a swift pelvic thrust he sheathed himself, and they joined together with a cataclysmic explosion. He began to slip and slide, arms and anus clenched as he tried to keep his balance. Lubricant flowed copiously from between them, dampening his plums and the crease of his muscular thighs.
“Yes, take me around the word!” she cried, ramping up to orgasm as he moved his yoghurt gun inside her.
“It’s the apocalypse,” he responded. “There’s no world left.”
“I was talking about bursting my dam,” she replied somewhat breathlessly.
“You’re already leaking,” he said, clutching the rumpled sheets in an attempt to stay in her tightly furled flower.
“Cumming!” she yelled in frustration, her zeppelins banging against his nipples.
“You are? Already?” He looked impressed.
A volley of love juice exploded from him, as he was always polite enough to wait for a woman to orgasm first. She grimaced and groaned and glared at him.
“Where’s my shejaculation, you twit? My yaya hasn’t twinkled yet!”
He looked started, then ashamed. Losing his balance on the lubed sheets, he slid free and wilted under her gaze.
“We could always plunge your coffee bean…?”
Rolling aside, she muttered to herself. “I shouldn’t have said I’d only fuck him if he was the last man on earth!”
Posted on | February 27, 2015 | 2 Comments
It’s just one word, aimed at me like a bullet. “Come.”
I orgasm. Hard. Zero to one hundred in a few seconds.
Coming on command, as it’s known, is something I’ve been able to do for a quite a few years. Only with two partners, mind you – Adonis and m’Lady both made and make full use of the knowledge that hearing this order from them would send me over the edge. With the former it was a command often spoken when we were in a scene and I was well aroused, which is quite likely how I learned to do this: I was already turned on, and already wanting (if not needing) to come. Being ordered to do so gave me permission, and off I went like a rocket.
Now, though. Now I don’t need to be in a scene. I don’t need to be aroused. All I need to do is hear (or read) that order from m’Lady and I’m right there. The mental grooves have been carved, and I respond. This means that it doesn’t even have to be spoken aloud – handy as we’re only on Skype once or twice a week – I can receive that single word from em via instant message or text, and as soon as I see it I’m clutching and clenching in my seat, trying not to drench my knickers.
Yes, this causes people to give me strange looks occasionally. When orgasming like this I can be quiet and rather subtle (for me), but grabbing at the desk/table and shivering can only be interpreted so many ways. (If I hang my head at the same time people often think I’m having a migraine spike. Which is sometimes true if it’s a particularly strong orgasm!)
The occasional other partner has tried ordering me to orgasm, and it hasn’t done a thing for me. Which makes it pretty clear to me that it’s all tied into power dynamics, perceptions, and (because this matters too) the ability both have to growl deep and speak commandingly. When I read that word? I’m hearing it – and then my mental grooves take over.
Sometimes it’s not even the word. There was one rather memorable dinner out in Melbourne, with m’Lady, one of eir partners, and one of eir partner’s partners. Before we left the house to meet them I was informed that when a certain word was spoken, I was to orgasm – which, naturally, meant I was on tenterhooks all evening!
‘Moreover’ was the word chosen – one that’s not part of m’Lady’s everyday conversation, and yet familiar enough that it could be slipped into conversation. And yes, when it was finally spoken? I came just as hard as if ey’d lent over and whispered it in my ear.
So yes. I can come on command. (Some people believe there’s no such thing. I beg to differ.) This ‘X Man mutant ability’, as m’Lady describes it, was a learned response – all my study reading about Pavlov and Skinner confirms that for me. I’m ordered, I orgasm, I receive praise. It’s a win win win so far as I’m concerned – and it means that when I check my phone and there’s a message ordering me to orgasm? It happens before I can even think about it.
Mind bypassed. Cunt clenching. Juices flowing.
And a shakingly penned response: “Thank you, my owner. That was a great orgasm! I may need fresh underwear now…”« go back — keep looking »