Goodbye Blogger

Please take note: my blog has been moved and henceforth all new posts can be found here: http://divergentdance.wordpress.com/. Please update your bookmarks, links, blogrolls, and wherever else this change may apply.

Thanks, and... see ya on the flipside.

Captain Obvious says, "Poly Is Hard!"

So… I’m not even sure where to start. The main thought knocking through my head right now is: poly is HARD. (Cue some of you nodding your heads in sympathetic agreement. And maybe some of you rolling your eyes and smacking me upside the back of the head whilst shouting, “Duh!”) But here’s the kicker. As difficult as any type of polyamory is to maintain, throwing long distance into the mix is like throwing a wrench into gears that are already a little rusty.

There are so many issues that couples can have that a little face to face time and even just physical contact can go a long way towards healing. And being involved in more than one relationship means dealing with more of these issues than are typically present in just one monogamous relationship. But of course with LDRs that face to face time and physical contact happens sporadically at best, so essentially the equation boils down to facing more issues and having fewer opportunities with which to solve them.

Please, tell me I’m not the only person who thinks this is screwed up.

But then at the same time, did I not essentially ask for this? Was I not fully aware of these potential problems when I entered into a long distance, secondary relationship? I certainly wasn’t clueless.

Of course, having even a theoretical clue doesn’t ease the frustration, or the hurt, or the days and nights I feel like an absolute shell of a person due to these things.

Funnily enough these issues have been largely worked out. We’ve talked. We’ve settled on some things that should go a long way towards helping both of us cope with the aforementioned frustration. The difficulty of long distance polyamory is still there, and I sure as hell could still use a hug, but the continual fighting towards what were essentially unrealistic hopes and expectations I feel has been quelled.

I believe this is why I can think clearly about the topic for once and even write coherently about it without breaking down into a seeping, quivering pool of messy emotions. Which is good. Those stains are terribly hard to get out of the carpet.

Review: Mr Right Packing Strap

Mr Right Packing Strap

Welcome to the Babeland-sponsored review of Aslan Leather’s Mr Right Packing Strap. This review is going to be a bit different in that it is largely produced by my partner Emmett, a FtM transsexual and the reason I requested this product to review.

Objective:
The Mr Right Packing Strap is really a pretty simple contraption. It consists of a thicker elastic band to go around the hips of the wearer with a pouch made of leather and thinner elastic strips that rests directly over the groin. The leather, as with any Aslan product, is top notch and buttery soft. This product is made specifically for the Mr Right soft-pack cock, which incidentally is the cock with which Emmett chooses to pack. The pouch is made so that the balls rest behind the smaller elastic straps and in front of the leather backing, and the shaft of the penis hangs free.

Now, I was sent the size medium which is meant to fit hip sizes 34 – 38”, but my voluptuous femme hips are roughly 46” inches around and when I tried the harness on it fit me perfectly, even through the sit-down test. So perhaps that’s something to keep in mind: if you want this harness, get the next size down for optimal snugness to avoid riding up when you move around or sit down.

Subjective:
Even before Emmett tried out this harness I could see one advantage: with the leather backing acting as a barrier between the balls of the packer and the skin of the wearer, the packing cock is less likely to acquire the funky smell that is a rather unpleasant combination of silicone and old sweat—the smell that seems to accumulate no matter how clean the cock is kept. But this is only my theoretical advantage; the rest will come from Emmett actually trying out the harness; thus I surrender the stage.

Unfortunately, reports Em, this advantage is really the only one the Mr Right Packing Strap has. Otherwise it is unfortunately a dud in that the hip strap rode up (which, as mentioned before, may be cured by getting a smaller size) and that the leather backing of the pouch was just wide enough to not sit right and chafe his thighs.

Another problem Em noticed particularly with the pairing of the Strap and his long cut breast binder was that when sitting, the otherwise loose-enough-to-ride up strap would cut into his lower abdomen and the crease between torso and thigh. This may not happen if the individual were wearing a shorter cut binder, but in this case he says it was rather uncomfortable to the point where he had to lean back to alleviate the discomfort.

Conclusion:
In the end I have to say that it is very heartening that companies are taking genderqueer and trans-needs into consideration and creating products that fit a specific need such as this. It goes to show that Babeland really is one of the most progressive and forward thinking sex toy companies out there. With a few tweaks the idea of the Mr Right Packing Strap could be more workable but as it is, it’s a little too awkward to be the first thing Emmett reaches for with the purpose of keeping his packing cock safely ensconced in his briefs. We both look forward to seeing further developments in the area of packing accessories.

Microfantasy Monday - Breathing

Thanks as always to my homegurl Ang the Sweltering Celt for the theme! (Hahahahaha I can't believe I just used the term "homegurl.")


Strong fingers surrounded her throat, fingertips pressing into the wall behind her as the muscles in the palm clenched, severing her breath as cleanly as a hot knife through soft butter. Her toes scrambled for purchase against the slats of the wood floor, suddenly so much slicker than it had ever felt under her whole, balanced foot.

A soft voice murmured into her ear, dirty and nasty and delicious, the tiny caresses of air from between hot lips gliding over the delicate curves of her outer ear and arrowing straight to her wet, waiting, wanting cunt.

The twin of the strong hand around her throat found its way to that which wanted and pressed, stroked, evoked until every fiber of her being longed to gasp, moan, scream but still her breath was obstructed and just when she thought she was about to pass out oh god fall limp against the body in front of her that pressed her up against the wall no air can’t breathe oh god OH GOD—

The hand released. The breath whooshed. The vocal chords rang. And she came.

HNT: Whipped

So the Red Mini Rubber Whip was a a bit of a bust as an impact tool, but it makes quite the artistic decoration!

Click through for a pic of me all turned around... :D

Happy HNT!

Review: Red Mini Rubber Whip

Red Mini Rubber Whip

Objective:
I’m always looking to expand my repertoire of BDSM-flavored toys so when the Red Mini Rubber Whip came up at Babeland to be reviewed, naturally I signed up right away. And… well, this little spaghetti-noodle flogger is certainly mini! By my measurements, 9 ½ inches in total length (although the tag did say 10" so make of that what you will), about 6 inches of that being the actual tails. It is definitely a petite toy.

The product is comprised of thin, noodle-like rubber strands with clear plastic and two large black beads bundling the first 3 ½ inches into a somewhat flexible handle that is topped by a convenient cloth wrist strap. (Did you know that often times the wrist strap itself can be just as fun as the part of the toy intended for impact play? No? Try it!) Certainly a no-frills design, but I’m no stickler for having all my toys be intricate works of art so no big deal there.

Being made of rubber, this toy is not sterilizable but is able to be cleaned with soap and warm water. Caution is advised if any fluids are on or around the site(s) of impact. Just be smart, hmm?

Subjective:
The (very) small size and light weight of the Red Mini Rubber Whip make it ideal for sting factor. In fact, I would venture so far as to say that this toy was bred, born and raised to be stingy. I could not get this toy to be thuddy. Em could not get this toy to be thuddy. There is very little chance that this toy will be thuddy. And toys with a specific purpose are certainly not flawed. The flaw, at least in my opinion is that this toy is SO stingy that it crosses right over the line into itchy. Flicked lightly or swung full force, the whippy impact soon morphed into a not-altogether-pleasant itchy tingling sensation that left me scratching at wherever the flogger hit. This could be ideal for the Top/Dominant who likes to drive his/her/zir bottom/submissive a little batty, but for me… no cigar.

I was also a little uncomfortable with just how small this flogger is. I couldn’t get a good grip on the handle because there was too much overlap of my fingers and palm. This may mean that the Mini Whip would be comfortable for someone with more petite hands, but petite hands I do not have.

However! It did feel pretty good when used as a sensation toy; the strands felt great when run over my skin. They feel smooth, rather cool and very pleasant.

Also, my dog loves this toy. He goes absolutely wild when I flick it at him, and tries to attack it like he attacks his squeaky toys. I think this counts as off-label use, though. That and my dog is a little weird.

Conclusion:
No bones about it, the Red Mini Rubber Whip was a bust for me as an impact toy. I do however hold out hope that this may be a better match for somebody with different circumstances; I also think that perhaps one of Babeland’s larger rubber whips might work better for me so I’m not writing them off entirely. And hey, there’s always room in my toybox for more sensation play items.

Life or Something Like It

I feel that my blog has already shriveled to an existence defined only by MFMs, HNTs and reviews. And yet at the same time I'm not entirely sure I have much to say. Life is life as usual. I work an entirely unsexy job, I pay entirely unsexy bills and I clean up entirely unsexy pet stains. Should I even be writing a blog based on a sexy life I don't feel like I have right now? Heheh.

I went to a party amongst kinky friends a couple of weeks ago, and a munch not long after that, and yet I still feel stuck in a state of stasis when it comes to my kink life. Nothing much has happened since then, be it due to the busy lives of the local kinksters or maybe I'm getting shut out; I don't know. I haven't brought out my implements of BDSM in ages. My poor flogger probably thinks I hate it. I'm surprised nobody's called the Rescue for Neglected Sex and Kink Toys yet. I should be brought up before the committee.

My sex drive is still alive but often it's overwhelmed by a sheer need for sleep. Even then, though, my sleep is disturbed by dreams that leave me feeling even more tired when I wake and uneasy on top of that.

Maybe all of these are just lame excuses for not being the fullest person I can be. But then maybe when life gets a little derailed, things of a sexual and/or kinky nature are the first to be overlooked and overshadowed.

All I know is, I want my sexy back.

HNT: Topper

Because who can resist playing with a fun new prop?

Click through to see pic number two..

And hell, because I'm feeling generous, click again to see a bonus pic.

Happy HNT!

Review: Laya Spot

Welcome to my first Babeland-sponsored review! I’m pretty excited. For my first product, I was sent the Laya Spot by Fun Factory. So here goes.



Objective:
This little ergonomically-designed clit vibe is roughly fit-in-your-palm sized, made of elastomer and hard plastic (elastomer being placed, of course, where the toy will make contact with the sensitive bits) and requires two AAA batteries, not included.

This little bad boy comes in a variety of colors, selection of which being at the mercy of your friendly Babeland packager. Whoever loaded up my box must have been psychic because mine is in a very pretty lime green elastomer with shimmery purple hard plastic accents. GREEN! Hooray!

The Laya Spot is very user friendly, requiring only the push-and-hold of the plus button on the top of the toy to turn on. It starts at the lowest speed which is barely a rumble, but you’ll know it’s on because the plus button lights up red. Then to cycle through the nine steady vibe strengths, you just keep hitting the plus button. Once you’re at the strongest vibe, push and hold the plus button again to cycle through the three pulse vibe settings. Hit the minus button to return to the strongest steady vibe setting, then just keep hitting the minus button to cycle back through the steady vibe strengths and finally to turn off. Not the quickest method of turning off a toy (therefore not conducive to a quick turn-off if needed to avoid awkward situations) but certainly not difficult to figure out.

Being made of elastomer, the Laya Spot is able to be cleaned with mild soap and water, but is not sterilizable due to its slightly porous nature. Use condoms if you want to share. Battery insertion/removal is very easy; just twist the hard plastic cap at the end (righty tighty lefty loosey) and insert your two AAA batteries according to the diagram next to the battery compartment.

Subjective (or My Thoughts):
My first observation upon turning on the Laya Spot is that it is a relatively quiet toy. It’s not something you’re going to get away with if, say, you have a roommate on the top bunk, but it’s definitely doable if you have your own room and can shut the door. Really quite discreet. Also very purse-friendly, assuming you’re not carrying a tiny clutch or something.

As for the actual use of the Laya Spot… it is both a fail and a win. Where the Laya Spot fails is, funnily enough, in its intended use. From what I gather, the Laya Spot is intended to be nestled over the pubic bone so that the flat underside of the head is nestled against the clit; thus it administers its vibrations and (supposedly) brings one to orgasm. Well, this did not happen. For one, the Laya Spot did not nestle at all. Once I did finally manage to get it to stay put over my pubic bone without sliding right off, the vibe even at its strongest was not enough to bring me to orgasm by just lying against my clit. Sensitive though my clit may be, I need pressure and movement as well as the vibration to get me off.

Howwwww-ever. When the Laya Spot is held in the hand (either in my hand or in the hand of a partner) and pressure/movement is applied in conjunction with the vibration… ohhhh yeahhhh. That's where it's at. Used in such a way, this little baby gets me off VERY well. I love that the underside of the business end is wider and flatter so I don’t feel like my clit is being poked at with sharp objects. The very tip of the toy IS a bit tapered though, so it can deliver more pinpointed vibrations if that’s what you need. It’s really quite versatile when used in this manner.

As for the strength of the vibe: well, if you’re hooked to your Hitachi, this little thing may not be strong enough for you. But if you’re looking for something more in the middle of the spectrum, the strength of this vibe is perfect. And the various speeds – plus the pulses – serve a variety of purposes. For instance, I find that switching between the three different pulse speeds serves as a very nice tease to get me worked up; the strong and steady vibe is perfect for The Moment of Orgasm; the softer steady speeds are custom made for drawing out those delicious little aftershocks without overwhelming my now very sensitive clit.

Conclusion:
While falling short of achieving the status of hands-free, the Laya Spot appears to be simply built to serve and able to suit almost any clitoral need. It’s easy to use and makes my touchy and often picky clit very happy. I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a compact, mid-range buzzy toy to tease out a clit orgasm or five. Thank you Babeland for letting me review this great little toy!

HNT: Teeth Marks

...But not the teeth in someone's mouth. No, these would be a different set of teeth.

Click through to see what made those marks!**

Happy HNT!

**If you hadn't guessed, what's attached to my nipple is the clip to a phone headset, the clip that attaches the cord to your shirt so you don't get all tangled. Yes, I am now perverting my office supplies. Gotta make being a desk monkey at least somewhat interesting, right?

Microfantasy Monday - Sound

Thanks as always to Ang the Sweltering Celt for the weekly micro-inspiration!


It’s a rumble in the ear, or perhaps a soft hiss punctuating the silence. A guttural growl piercing through the darkness or a low moan reverberating through the bones.

It’s the rustling of cotton sheets being twisted and tangled underneath the slap and whisper of skin, and the creak of bemused bedsprings, the thunk of bone against wall and the accompanying chuckle being swallowed by groaning lips.

It’s floating, floundering, drowning and the discovery of being able to breathe underneath the waves, of finding a second home in that which once was unknown and uncharted.

It’s you. And it’s me. A symphony.

HNT: Beating the System? Not So Much.

More like the system is beating me. Or at least, my faulty BC pills are. And so, a little well-earned sentiment aimed at the pills that are not doing ANYTHING they're supposed to be doing.



Happy HNT? More like frustrated HNT. But, as so many bumps in the road have done before, this too shall pass.

This PSA Brought to You by a Happy Cunt

As well educated women, most of us know at least the fundamentals about our own genital health. Watch out for abnormal discharge, don’t douche, do pee after sex, don’t overwash because the vagina is a self-cleaning organ, so on and so forth. I knew and (I thought) observed all of these things. So it was discouraging to me why I kept having issues with my *lady health* when I was doing nothing to warrant it.

And then I found out a little more about vaginal pH and its contribution to female gynecological health. See, the female vagina maintains a slightly acidic state (between 3.8 and 4.5 whereas 7 is neutral and a highly alkaline or basic product, bleach, is around 12.5) which helps the good bacteria flourish and keep things functioning in there. When that pH balance is disturbed, the vagina loses its first defense—the good bacteria—against things like candidiasis and bacterial vaginosis. And most women know what a pain in the ass at least one if not both of those conditions are.

It was my gynecologist who turned me on to this whole vaginal pH thing, and she also turned me on to a product which is supposed to help balance vaginal pH. Unfortunately that product is loaded with glycerin and parabens, so it actually made my issues worse, being highly sensitive to glycerin especially. In any case, being newly introduced to this idea of vaginal pH, I decided to do a little research. I especially wanted to know ways I could keep my vaginal health without having to use any storebought products, especially since such products are apparently fraught with ingredients that were only worsening my problems.

And of course my research told me the usual. Don’t douche, don’t wear a lot of synthetic fabrics, don’t wear tight clothing. The vulva and vagina do not need washed, only rinsed, for the vagina is a self cleansing organ. Okay. Same old same old. But then I found out WHY the vagina and vulva not only do not need washing, but why washing is harmful. The naughty little secret regarding most soaps is that they are actually pretty highly alkaline, with an average pH of 9-10. And therein was my problem.

See, I thought I would be okay giving my vulva—external labia only, not delving into the more internal regions at all—a light wash with very gentle baby soap during my daily shower. (I use baby soap for all of me, not just my vulva, since the rest my of skin is also very sensitive.) I wasn’t washing the sensitive mucous membranes, only the actual skin. I wasn’t scrubbing with a washcloth, only my sudsed up hand. I was rinsing thoroughly. And yet, I was still very wrong because even that little bit was upsetting the balanced environment of my vagina.

So I cut out soap down there entirely. I also managed to find a laundry detergent that advertised being pH neutral. And what do you know… my issues are gone. My vulva and vagina are happy as—dare I say it?—clams.

And when my lady parts are happy, I am happy.

Playing Catchup

Wow, do I ever have a lot to catch up on (that doesn’t have to do with random facts or microfantasies). So let’s start with what’s been taking up the majority of my life lately. And that, actually, revolves largely around Em’s life. Or more specifically, his transitioning.

If you follow his blog then you know that last Thursday the 13th he had his first T shot, and from there it feels like his transitioning has finally merged into the fast lane. We are already starting to notice changes which we found out from another transguy isn’t surprising considering Em’s dose (200mg q 2 wks) is at the high end of a normal trans dose. So far his voice has started to crack and change, he has had increased hair growth on his arms and legs, and definitely an increased libido. (Which I certainly don’t mind because a few things have happened lately to amp up my libido as well!) What I have noticed in ministering to his increased libido is that his clitoris/cock has already started to grow in size just a little bit, and also that it feels harder. It also reacts differently during orgasm, swelling and then pulsing much like the male penis. I noticed this to a certain extent with the female clitoris (both mine and his pre-T) but it’s much more pronounced now.

I must say, I find all these changes fascinating, even above and beyond the normal interest I take in anything to do with my partner. And even more so than the physical changes I am noticing how much happier he is. Every time he notices a new change he gets giddy, and in general he is much less dysphoric. He came out at work recently and that has actually gone quite well, better than either of us expected given that he works with a bunch of very conservative, fundamental types.

So things are on the right track for him. Next up, aside from staying on T and keeping things going smoothly there and with his peers, is saving for top surgery. That’s going to be a bit of a bigger hurdle, but we’ll make it over when the time comes. We always do.

Honesty Scrap

Tag, I’m it! Roxy at Uncommon Curiosity has passed the baton to me, along with nine others, to complete this meme.

There are three rules for this award:

First, link back to the person who gave you the award: Miss Roxy the Uncommonly Curious.

Next, give the award to ten other bloggers:

(I’m gonna cheat here a little bit because I don’t know very many bloggers, so if I’m tagging you after someone else already has… just deal with it! It doesn’t mean you have to do the damn thing twice. It just means you’re extra-loved.)

Emmett, my partner, for honestly putting up with me.

Kyle, my boyfriend, for honestly teaching me about myself.

Ashleybird for honestly being one of the sweetest and funniest girls on Twitter.

Scarlet the Femme Fagette for honestly introducing me to new gender ideas.

Mollena the Perverted Negress for honestly being unashamedly true to herself.

Niki, one of my oldest friends and Strawbry Kiwi blogger, for honestly being one of the few people with whom I can be completely myself without judgment.

Arron of X-Ray Introductions for honestly being a VERY cool guy to hang with and for getting me into reviewing!

Nadia the Kinky Librarian for honestly bringing the brains into kink and being damn sexy whilst doing it.

Saintchick for honestly being one of my Twitter gurls and someone who helps keep me in touch with my femme side.

Ang the Sweltering Celt for honestly being an amazingly supportive friend and for making me feel understood about being poly.

(Whew! I managed it!)

Finally, list ten honest things about myself:

1) I barely remember what my natural hair color looks like. I know what color it is, but I’m so hooked on trying different hair colors that it hasn’t been natural for a very long time.

2) I’m really bad at coming up with quirky, unique but still honest facts about myself because every interesting insight I’ve ever had into myself goes flying out the window in situations like this.

3) I have, in the past, won awards for my poetry. (And no, that in no way means I’m ever going to post any on this blog.)

4) I absolutely despise talking on the phone. I will text ‘til my fingers are blue but if an actual verbal phone conversation is proposed, I balk like someone asked me to chop off my own right hand. There is only one exception to that rule and he knows very well who he is.

5) My toenails are always painted, but my fingernails have been naked since middle school. Originally this was because I started working with animals and there was just no point to having nice nails, but even now that I’m just working a desk job, my fingernails stay bare. I prefer the way my fingernails look unpainted. Oh, and my favorite color to paint my toenails is gold.

6) Speaking of gold… I hate yellow gold. All of my jewelry is either white gold, silver, copper, or not metal at all. And even then I so rarely wear jewelry except for the stuff worn in piercings (which is either titanium or glass).

7) I have an almost unholy interest in sharps. I love knives, swords, daggers, needle play, piercings—anything to do with very, very sharp objects. They just look and feel so gooooood.

8) I have unusually large gaps between all of my toes. Probably because I have insanely wide feet. And yes, this makes it a larger than normal pain in the ass to shop for shoes, especially cute/sexy ones. It does, however, make it VERY easy to shop for Chucks, which are the Ultimate Shoe. Currently I have more pairs of Chucks than days in the week: dark blue, embroidered green high top, lime green laceless, black and pink, pink, orange, black and red high top and Christmasy candy-striped.

9) Why yes, I DO have a very stream-of-consciousness type of mind that leads me on all sorts of interesting side tracks and yes, it does come out in my writing!

10) (This last fact is always the hardest.) My favorite color in general is green, but my favorite color (or shade, technically) to wear is black. I feel sexiest in all black and if I could I’d wear all black, all the time. The only reason I haven’t done so yet is because I haven’t amassed enough black clothing to get rid of everything else. Someday.

Microfantasy Monday - Hands

Thanks to Ang the Sweltering Celt as always for the weekly themes! (And sorry, yes, I'm late. Ten lashes for the bad blogger.)

I know exactly where I like hands to be on me. Taking a firm grip on the back of my neck, a few fingers through my hair, a palm gliding up my leg, seeking fingertips thrumming in deliciously sensitive areas… yeah, I know where I like to be touched.

Other people’s spots, though, are usually more of a mystery—a delightfully tricky riddle to be solved. A meandering finger around the rim of an ear perhaps, or even a casual drape of the palm over a knee. Or, I was pleasantly surprised to discover, a gentle, unconsciously placed hand on the small of the back, sending the mind to a screeching halt and decadent shivers down the spine. Yeah, he knows where he likes to be touched.

And now, so do I.

Microfantasy Monday - Exhibitionism

Thanks as always to Ang over at Sweltering Celt for the MFM inspiration!

The sun shone merrily down on the group of people mingling among the clusters of brilliant flowers and verdant foliage, causing many to squint or use hands to shade eyes as they meandered their way through the garden party.

She had come prepared, settling her favorite pair of cat-eyed, tortoiseshell sunglasses on her nose before recrossing her ankles below the flowing hem of her silky skirt. Dispassionately she scanned the crowd before her eyes settled on just one, the only other one apart, slouching casually in faded jeans and a blazer under the shade of a mulberry tree. The corner of her mouth quirked minutely as she realized he was watching her. A single eyebrow arched above the rim of her sunglasses, widening his smirk to a full smile, one that hinted at mischief. As she watched him, his head cocked slightly to the left, his eyes flicking quickly in the same direction—behind the garden shed. An indication. Come with me.

Teasingly she pursed her lips, as though to give a moment of thought to the unspoken invitation. Then, slowly, she rose, brushing out her skirt and slinging her purse over one shoulder casually—just a woman heading to the ladies’ room, or to get another of the mimosas offered at the buffet table. Unhurried, she made her way to the shed just to the far side of the mulberry tree, her face not turning toward the loiterer under its leaves but the upturn of her lips as she passed giving all the answer that was needed. Nonchalant, he pushed himself off the trunk of the tree and followed her.

A muffled thump as her purse hit the ground. A much more audible thump as her back hit the side of the shed. Heads turned. Eyebrows raised. Voices murmured. But behind the shed, that shady, cool, damp patch of grass had transformed into its own universe.

All else be damned.

The New Man in Town

So if you’ve made it over to my little shadowed, cobwebbed corner of the Internet, likely you found it through the blog of another. Specifically, the blog of my new boyfriend, Kyle.

Yeah, I had to stop and read that again myself. Wow.

I mean… this is something I never expected would happen. I’m generally not one for online relationships, although to be fair the real meat of our relationship (versus our flirting) happened after we met in person, in Portland. Remember that series of posts? Oh yeah. That was the turning point.

So, most of you know Kyle on Twitter as the swaggering, wickedly grinning ladies’ man, complete with harem. And yeah, I gotta say that cocky confidence is what drew me in at first. But then I got to know the guy and he is so, so much more than that. And we have more in common than I have ever had with any other person, from life philosophy to favorite flower and drink of choice. And despite the attitude, when the situation calls for it Kyle is amazingly supportive and understanding—really a guy to have in your corner.

Of course, things aren’t always peaches and cream. We’re both polyamorous and both of us have other relationships, which always throws a few wrenches into the gears especially at first, before things get settled into an agreeable dynamic for all involved. But he’s worth the struggle; the love I have in me for him is worth all of it.

I don’t know what I did in this life or in past lives to deserve all this love, but between the love I have received from Emmett these past two-plus years and the newfound love of this tenacious-yet-tender cowboy… well, it promises to never be a dull ride. And roller coaster freak that I am, I am more than ready to get started.

Differentiation

At what point does flying become falling?

HNT: Inadvertent Marks

Oh look, I finally have an HNT pic to contribute! Legs seems to be a bit of an unofficial theme for this one, and coincidentally I happened to get this mark on my leg from my laptop - although it does look a little like the marks from someone's belt!



Click through to see the far end of my leg... and who makes an excellent footrest.

Ready

Is this how a skydiver feels, suited up and strapped with parachutes, poised on the edge of the open hatch, feeling the wind rush by as she waits for the okay to jump?

Please, please, tell me to jump. To fly.

I’ve never skydived (yet) but this is how I feel: poised on the edge of new and greater things, ready to jump in and test out the waters. Rarely do I dip my toe before just diving in. The real excitement lies in the danger of the unknown—exploring the depths with little other barriers than quick wits and quick reflexes, not knowing what hides beyond the next rise. The real excitement lies in testing how long I can hold my breath before my vision darkens and my ears ring.

The real excitement lies in not knowing fully what’s going to happen next, but being ready for it anyway.

I am ready.

Review: Gun Oil H2O Lubricant

One of the first lubes I ever bought was WET Original, and because it worked well enough I just stuck with it. Not long ago, though, after a weekend out of town in which really good sex was thwarted by a lack of lube, I decided to go get a bunch of wee lube packets not only for portability (because really, the thought of carrying around a potentially leaky bottle of lube in my duffel bag just did not appeal, not even in a plastic baggie) but also to broaden my horizons and see if maybe there wasn’t something better out there.

Well, my friends, there is. Of course, most of you probably already know this, but hey, humor me in my newfound enlightenment.

Meet Gun Oil H2O, the first guinea pig in my Lube Experiment. Gun Oil H2O is a water-based, glycerin-free, hypoallergenic lube made by Empowered Products, so it’s good for silicone toys and good for more sensitive bits. This is good for me because my bits are more sensitive, and I believe that the glycerin in WET Original was actually irritating me down there quite a bit. (Of course, I would like to point out that WET has both a silicone lube and a Naturals line that is glycerin- and paraben-free, so I’m not discounting them entirely.)

Okay, so aside from the gentler nature of the Gun Oil H2O, and aside from the totally awesome name that originally drew me to the product, there were two things I noticed first and loved about the lube. The first is that it’s a little bit thicker, so it stays where it’s put instead of dripping all over the place. The second great thing is that it lasts longer so I do not constantly have to reapply, which has been a really annoying problem in the past.

So really, this lube does quite well for me. It satisfies my three requirements: it does not irritate my poor, sensitive cunt; it does not drip and run everywhere; it lasts longer. Definitely a lube I will reach for in the future when silicone toys are involved and even when they are not.

Novelty

There’s something else that’s new in my life: sex.

Ha! No, not that the sex itself is new in my life, silly… but it almost feels that way because my sex life has evolved to a point where I hardly even recognize the awkward prototype it was before. I feel like I’m really (pardon the pun here) coming into myself and awakening to a point where I can really embrace being a sexual being. It’s… intense, and exhilarating.

See, here’s the thing, and here’s where I’m going to be painfully, brutally honest about myself. Up to this point, my sexuality has been almost entirely in my head. It wasn’t often that my sexuality, my horniness, transferred to an actual physical desire for sex. It was disheartening, to say the least. I think there are several factors that were involved in this, but foremost among them was that I was complacent in this rut and unwilling to expend the effort getting out of it.

But y’know, when your life is turned topsy-turvy by new developments and new involvements, it’s impossible to stay in a rut of any sort. And so, I was freed from this one. (Of course, it also helps a LOT when multiple people are teasing you so mercilessly that your mental horniness can’t help but boil over into a fierce physical longing.)

And like I said, it’s exhilarating. Liberating. I feel almost freed from the confines of my own body, although it’s probably more like being freed from the strictures of my mind. I am outside myself, and it’s amazing.

Call me a sentimental dork, but I feel like I’m breaking into the dawn of a new era in my life, somewhere overwhelmingly enlightening and progressive. I’m eager to see it through.

Not-Quite-HNT

Yeah, I'm not ripping off clothes and taking pics, but this is an HNT of sorts: it's a baring of my inner mind. In a way far more vulnerable than my unclothed body.

Enjoy.


My neck is screaming. Eyes, straining as the muscles in control threaten to give in to uncontrollable spasms. But I can only stumble blindly forward, face tilted to the heavens (hells?) in search of guidance—any sign, any hint, any hope.

Clouds swirl like clutching vines around my weary feet as the dull brick walls, twisting and turning, hover just out of reach above me—no solid path to follow, just stubborn perseverance and exhausted automation.

Suddenly, from nowhere, the mist coalesces and I stumble, falling to my knees in the skies then rolling, defeated, to my back: the condemned soldier. My head lolls from side to side and my breath pitches forward in humble mimicry of body’s fall. Horror, sheer and raw, threatens to overpower me, reducing my will to nothing more than the mewling of a starving kitten as it chases the ever-retreating teat.

Labyrinth.

Meeting a Like Mind

So this past Sunday I got the pleasure of meeting up with a fellow Tweeter, poly kinkster and sex blogger: Ang the Sweltering Celt. It just so happened she was stopping by my little area of the world for breakfast before heading back to her own place, so naturally we took the opportunity to meet up and hang out.

Let me tell you, folks, there is really nothing better than meeting up with someone you’ve talked with for a while only to find out that they are even more awesome in person than they are online. M and I also got to meet at the same time one of the husbands, RangerMonkey, which was a very entertaining experience. I don’t think I’ve laughed so continuously for a long time.

I just can’t say how much I love it when I get to meet new people and convert them from “e-friends” to real-time friends. They’re real, in the flesh! All the little details and quirks that are missing from Internet interaction are all there in glorious reality, filling out the experience into a multidimensional encounter.

Yeah, that totally has to happen again. There is too little distance and too much in common between us for me to let it all slip through my fingers.

Thanks again Ang and RangerMonkey! Glad I woke up in time to get your DM!

Microfantasy Monday - Espionage

Thanks as always to Ang, the Sweltering Celt for the inspiration!

Down the corridor she slipped, breath bated, eyes constantly scanning the darkness ahead for any sign of threat. Her only goal now was successful escape, because the new and vital knowledge stored in the depths of her memory would only serve the client if she made it out alive.

Suddenly a noise echoed out into the hallway and she froze, listening for any recurrence. It didn’t occur, but in scouring that area for any sign of movement, she noticed the faint glimmer of flickering light coming from under one of the closed doors. Silently she crept closer, a sinuous umbrage cloaked in shadows, undetected.

In front of her stood the door in question, the golden light glinting from underneath the portal hinting at candlelight within. Cocking an ear to the door, she heard fainter versions of the noise heard before. Was it… moans? Now more curious than cautious, she knelt to press her eye to the keyhole. Her breath hitched as she caught a glimpse of the pair inside.

Suddenly the door rocked inward, its loose latch giving way under the pressure put on it from outside. Her breath flowed out on a curse as her body pitched forward into the room. She rolled to her feet as two heads snapped up, appraising her.

Suddenly one, the male, raised his hand and she tensed, on edge, ready for fight or flight – whichever suited the moment. But he only smiled, and beckoned.

An Update on the Hottie

Okay, so… the Hottie. Remember when I reviewed it and thought it was the greatest thing since sliced bread? Well, I’m not so sure about that anymore.

See, lately when I’ve been using it, or having it used on me to be more precise (did I mention we are the proud new owners of a Terra Firma harness? Review to come on that at some point, once I get the chance to use it myself…) it starts out alright but quickly descends into the realm of Pain That I Do Not Like. At first I thought it was the girth. It is 1 ½ inches in diameter, after all. That struck me as odd, though, because I’d never had girth issues before. Not that I’m a size queen or anything, but I’m certainly not shy about having a little oomph to my cocks.

Then the other night as it was being used on me verrrry slowly I realized: it feels great upon insertion, but it’s the pull back that hurts! And it dawned on me. It’s the ridge. That damn ridge between the head and shaft of the cock is catching on my inner crevices and doing its damnedest to pull me inside out. Doesn’t matter how much lube I use; it still catches. That is what’s causing the pain for me!

It’s a bittersweet moment of enlightenment, really. I loved the Hottie and as a cock, aside from this inescapable ridge issue, it really worked for me. It also means I’m still on the quest for The Perfect Cock – but what kind of an issue is that if I get to try out new toys, right?

So if you’re considering the Hottie, keep that in mind. If you have no issues with texture and ridges, the Hottie is still a great cock to try. But if your bits are a bit more sensitive like mine, you might want to look for something a little more streamlined.

HNT: Beating the Heat

It's been so HOT here lately, all I've wanted to do is strip down and sprawl underneath the ceiling fan. So... I did just that.

Happy HNT, all. :)

Portland, Part 3: Saturday, and Goodbye to Portland

It was hard letting Kyle go the next morning. I just wanted to wrap my arms around him, clench my fists around each other and hold him to me, but alas the day called and he had a home to get back to, as did we after a couple of stops at Ikea and Powell’s bookstore. So I very reluctantly let him go. He dressed – sans bra, I should mention, as his nipples were too sore *wicked grin* - and after a bittersweet goodbye that I REALLY didn’t want, left to grab a quick continental breakfast with M and was on his way back to Washington.

M was kind enough to bring me breakfast while I was still in the hotel room working on getting ready, so we finished that, packed up the car and then headed out on our way to two final stops before saying a sad goodbye to Portland.

Ikea, I know, is a place you pretty much either love or hate if you know anything about it, but it’s definitely a place M and I looooove. We took a stroll through the store, had a delicious lunch of Swedish meatballs and spent a little money, then were off to Powell’s, the most amazing bookstore in the history of all the bookstores ever in history.

Seriously. If you are in Portland and do not or have not gone to Powell’s, you have lived an unfulfilled and very dreary life.

Needless to say, more money was spent there as well. M and I in addition to being fans of affordable, quirky Swedish home design are also raging bibliophiles, so we couldn’t walk out of Powell’s emptyhanded.

After that and a rather scenic drive through a part of Portland we hadn’t yet been to (not like I can really tell the parts, well, apart right now anyway), we managed to find the freeway with the help of a gas station attendant and made our not-so-merry way home. After all the fun, excitement and sheer happiness of being in Portland, neither of us wanted to return to our rather boring and unwillingly drama-filled life in southern Oregon. But we had to. And so we did. But not without much reminiscing of our time spent in that wonderful city as well as drawing out plans for eventually moving into the area. The PNW has so much to offer; I feel alienated by my own hand out here on its fringes. My heart is in the heart of the Pacific Northwest, and one day M and I will return – for good.

Portland, Part 2b: Friday, Cont'd

It didn’t take long after we got back to the hotel room before Kyle had his very handsome black pinstriped Dickies shirt unbuttoned, exposing his butch cleavage to the room (and whoever happened to be looking in our third floor window). But really, no one’s clothes stayed on very long because clothes have this nasty tendency to get in the way of striking objects and, well, the feeling of skin on skin contact.

You know Kyle’s Belt of Doom, the one that left the pretty railroad-track marks seen in my last HNT? Didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would. Felt pretty damn good, actually. Also felt really nice in my hands, and smacking against that butchtastic ass!

D’you know how much fun it is to test the limits of someone whose limits are already very stretchy? Well… it’s really, really, really fun.

See, I have this metal lined pleather slapper that feels wicked enough on its own, but the great thing is that the makers included a stretchy rubber wristband attached to a grommet in the handle of the slapper. If you turn the slapper around and grip the paddle end, suddenly you have a very wicked little whip that likes to bite… hard. And bite it did. Kyle’s thighs were VERY nicely striped after that!

At some point though we did all just finally collapse into bed, because it was well into the wee hours of the morning and no amount of playing was going to erase the fact that we’d all already had long days before we even met up. That didn’t last long, though, before M suddenly woke up hyper as all hell, waking the rest of us up with him. Somehow I think this was okay, though, because if we hadn’t been awake, then I wouldn’t have been able to test Kyle’s limits again… this time the limits of his nipples.

May I just say that I seriously thought I was close to ripping his nipples off a couple of times? And yet he just kept growling that amazingly sexy growl of his and begging for more. It was only after a very impressive amount of time that he finally begged me to be nice and, since it was the middle of the night and I was a little fuzzy in my brain, I acquiesced. After that, I’m pretty sure we slept through the rest of the night.

HNT: Better Late Than Never!

Am I right?

And yes, I am a sharps freak. Needle, knife, whatever - if it's sharp, gimme gimme gimme!

Happy Thursday y'all.

Portland, Part 2a: Friday

Thursday. Well, aside from the lonnnng stretch of road and some really good not-quite-Italian food, not much happened. Besides a lot of anticipation for the next day, because Friday was where it was at, folks. Allow me to begin.

Firstly, I slept until eleven freakin’ a.m. on Friday. Shyeah, when was the last time I did THAT? I think it had something to do with the blackout curtains. Gord bless the Marriott for installing those blackout curtains. It nearly made up for the fact that I could only open the room’s window about an inch and a half.

Not long after I was out of the shower (and yes, you’re more than welcome to allow your mind to linger on that image) the now-braindead vet techs returned, after which M and I set out on our Big Zoo Adventure. Aside from it pouring – literally, pouring – on us for a good chunk of the time, the Portland Zoo was really great. So great that between meandering around (and hunkering down out of the rain) and the evening rush hour traffic, we arrived back at the hotel not long before we were to meet… Kyle!

That last half hour fled like a gazelle before the cheetah and before I knew it, Kyle was calling me. We agreed I would meet him down in the lobby just to avoid any potential confusion with the lobby staff. So down I went in the elevator and… there he was, doing that fantastically sexy butch lean against one of the columns in the lobby, looking utterly nonchalant. And funnily enough, after all the excitement I felt at meeting him and the little bit of gastric-butterfly nervousness I felt for a fleeting moment in the elevator, the moment I saw him – and better, the moment we hugged a real, body-to-body, lasting, comfortable hug – I was completely at ease. It is impossible to be anything but around Kyle. (Well, besides horny, etc. But those are different animals!)

Up we went to the hotel room again, but alas, my friends, nothing happened at just that moment. Kyle teased, but apparently he was holding off on the gooooood stuff ‘til later. The three of us chatted a bit then got down to the business of deciding on, then mapping out how to get to a place to eat. We decided on Burrito House, a cute little Mexican establishment where Kyle’s soccer team used to have post-game noshes. The food was great, as was the company… that is until the karaoke started and was dominated by two old folks who wouldn’t know a tune if it smacked them with a spiked paddle. We made a hasty exit at that point, but we weren’t ready to go back to the hotel room so we stopped at a pizzeria/bar near the hotel and got our drink/conversation/flirtation/laughter on. We were all admiring the female bartender who was very cute and smelled AWESOME. Oh, and she kept touching Kyle. Gee I wonder why!

Finally, we decided to go back to the hotel and from there, the fun began…

HNT: Twitter Meetup in the PNW

If you follow me or @ButchtasticKyle on Twitter, or you read Kyle's blog, by now you know that M and I got the opportunity to meet the illustrious Cowboy Butch last weekend.

How did it go, you ask?

Well, readers, let me show you!


Yep, not only was I introduced to Kyle, but I was introduced to his railroad-mark-leaving studded leather Belt of Doom. But don't let the name fool you - it was actually quite a lot of fun.

In fact, that belt and I may need to get further acquainted.

Happy HNT y'all!

A Call for Queer Eye Candy

“Queer Eye Candy is the on-line family photo album for the queer
community.” – Geek Porn Girl

“As a straight woman I do not expect to identify with pictures of lesbians
right away, but I do, because love is love, laughter is laughter, and
happiness is all the same. Thank you for helping me to see this in a new
light.” – Kelly

“After being featured in Queer Eye Candy as a femme, and reading all the
comments, it made me feel like it was OK to be feminine again.” – Em the
Femme

Queer Eye Candy is a community website dedicated to showcasing visual representations of butches, femmes, and all sorts of other queers. We as genderqueers know what it’s like to be out in the world and treated strangely, questioned (“Mommy, is that a boy or a girl?” “What are you doing, this is the ladies room!” “Don’t you know it’s dyke night, honey?”), or constantly stared at as we navigate through our days. We know what it’s like to feel outcast because of the way we look. But what if more people were more used to seeing us, in the wide variety of representation? What if the thousands of ways that butch and femme are reclaimed and performed were collected, so we could see how much variety exists within these identities?

And so, our mission of visibility was born.

With weekly features such as Wednesday Butch Hump Day, Date Night Thursday and Femme Friday, Queer Eye Candy showcases all sorts of representation of and from our communities.

But we can’t do it without your participation! Here’s the part where we ask you to send in fabulous photos of yourself, your lover(s), your friends, your family (with their permission of course). You do not need to identify as butch or femme to participate, though the project does focus on butches and femmes.

Submit your high quality, work-safe photographs to queereyecandy@gmail.com and go to QEC's submissions page for further information about sending us your photograph. You can also submit photos through the QEC Flickr group.

We hope to see your smilin’ face on the site.

Cheers,

Amber, Cheree, Denise, Tina, and Sinclair

*

Yeah, did you know I was one of the faces behind Sinclair's brainchild? Not only that, but I'm in charge of Femme Friday! So if you're one of my fabulous femme readers or the partner/friend/fuckbuddy/WHATEVER of a fabulous femme, do me a solid and send in the pics, wouldja? I can't think of a better way to ring in the weekend!

Portland, Part 1: Thursday

Well… this past weekend was spent with M in Portland, and so much happened that I barely know where to start. Suffice to say for this precise moment that we are both absolutely in love with Portland, want to go back as soon as possible and will be moving to the area as soon as we can afford it/work out jobs.

I should mention before I begin that the primary purpose for us being in Portland was for M to take the test to become a state certified veterinary technician. We will find out in six to eight weeks if he passed (he will) and once the certification is complete, it basically means that he will be able to perform more procedures legally and also receive a pay increase. (Imagine the difference between an RN and a CNA in the human medical world.) As for me… well, I was there to tag along and just have fun! It was a much needed vacation. Plus I wanted to go back to Portland to actually experience Portland and not just sit in a conference room all damn day.

(And of course, the quasi-last-minute plans coalesced to *squee* meet Kyle of Butchtastic fame! More on that later.)

Thursday was the day we went up, and unlike the last time I went to Portland (in January, RIGHT after my birthday last year) we actually got to see the trip we made. When I went in January with my coworker for a veterinary radiology certification seminar, it got dark shortly after we left so most of the trip was spent looking at the road immediately in front of me, as that was all I could see in the glow of my headlights! And really, most of the drive is quite pretty, even if it is long and somewhat monotonous. I swear, though, the farther you go into Oregon, the greener it gets! It’s absolutely beautiful!

So yes. Thursday we drove up and that’s about all we did, besides going out with two of M’s coworkers and their partners to the Old Spaghetti Factory on Bancroft. Ohhh lordy that place is fun. It’s dim and noisy inside but has a great energy. It is also decorated like an Old West saloon/bordello and I felt like the servers should have been dressed in ruffled skirts, fishnets and feathers. The food is also delicious and VERY reasonably priced.

After that, we came back to our hotel (the Marriott Fairfield Inn & Suites, for those who care – great place to stay, I highly recommend) and crashed out on the enormously comfortable bed with its many enormously comfortable pillows. M and his coworkers had to be up early the next day, after all!

Coming up next… Friday in Portland! Stay tuned!

Microfantasy Monday - Cleaning

Damn that stubborn cobweb, she mutters to herself as she strains upward, every muscle from fingertips to the toes on which she's poised singing sweetly with barely contained tension. A single drop of sweat snakes its way down the dip in the center of her back, ultimately soaking into her practical cotton panties.

She rocks back on her heels, blowing out a frustrated breath before renewing her efforts, her lips peeled back in a grimace, long strands of rich black hair escaping the confines of her ponytail to plaster themselves on her glistening neck as she tries in vain to clear the new arachnid neighbors who have taken up residence in the vaulted ceilings of the living room.

In the blink of an eye her focus redirects from the stubborn web as a long, hard body presses up against her back, large hands cupping her breasts and holding her upright as she loses the precarious grip she had on her balance. Teeth nip her damp neck as a thick, erect cock nestles itself between her ass cheeks.

Forget the spider, honey, a low voice murmurs in her ear. I've got my own web to spin.

Ooh La La!

Who doesn't love cruising through sex toy websites and making the ultimate wishlist? Well, what if that wishlist were fulfilled?

This is your chance, courtesy of Ooh Lala! Entering is a snap; check it out.

And on to my wishlist!

1. Dichroic Spiral Curved Shaft Glass Dildo, £145. I've been dying to buy into the latest Big Thing to happen to sex toys! I've been putting glass in my stretched ears for a while; it's time my cunt got the same VIP treatment.

2. iKit personal vibrator package, £38. I'm all about finding fun ways to get myself off, and I'm drawn to all the attachments this kit comes with!

3. Penthouse Ultra Powerful Gyrating Massager, £57. (In black, preferably.) I saw this in a sex toy shop a while ago and my inner femme was drawn to the, "Ooooh, SHINY!"

4. The Hitachi Magic Wand, £68. Because I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't have this in my collection JUST BECAUSE. Even if it's too strong for me, I hear it's a great tool for using on others...!

5. Remote Control Egg Vibrator, £25. I've been lusting for a wireless remove control vibrator FOREVER. It's about time I had one!

6. LELO Lily, £63. (In black.) Because, uhhh... it's LELO, hello!!! The ultimate in luxury sex toys; and so beyond my budget otherwise.

7. LELO Gigi, £63. Again: it's LELO! And plus, I love intense G-spot stimulation, so I think this would be a REALLY enjoyable toy.

8. Bondage tape, £10. I love the idea of bondage tape sticking to itself but not the wearer. It sounds like a fun, quick and disposable way to play!

9. I Rub My Pirate Duckie, £21. I'm all for the waterproof toys, and this little guy is so cute!

10. WET Sweet Cherry lube, £9. I've always been dubious about flavored lubes since a catastrophic run-in with mint flavored lube, but I love WET lube so I'd like to give this a try.

My grand total: £499! Whew, cutting it close to the mark there.

So hey, if you want your chance to win up to £500 worth of free toys, here's your opportunity! Get crackalackin'!

Vagina Friday

So last night I got together with a bunch of girls from the local scene for what has been dubbed Vagina Friday. We met up at this AWESOME barbecue place that plays live music on Friday nights and, according to the unofficial coordinator of this get-together (a.k.a. the girl who kicked our asses into finally all showing up in the same place at the same time), is one of only two places in the area that serves a drink called a Zombie. I’d never heard of or drank a Zombie before last night; it was really good.

We stuffed our faces full of REAL barbecue, got a-few-drinksy and finally made our way out onto the dance floor to the sounds of some dudes on the stage playing what sounded like a mix of rock and zydeco. It was… a really unbelievable night.

In the car on the way back home – no, I was not driving – I got to thinking about what made it such a good time. Yeah, the great food and booty shakin’ music helped; they always do! But it was really the company that rounded it out. I began to wonder if I would have had the same great time with friends who were not kinky (not that I really have any of those up here).

Don’t get me wrong, ‘nilla people are not automatically lesser friends or worse company. But would I have had the same great time had the evening not been colored with kinky jokes and discussions about squirting, harnesses and needle play? Would I have had the same great time if I had not been with people who recognized, understood and accepted all aspects of me?

Probably not.

It’s makes me all the more grateful that for all the drama that seems to proliferate in this small-town scene, I do have a group of people with whom I can be completely myself and be accepted for the happy freak I am.

Microfantasy Monday - Thunder

Rumblerumble… CRASH.

Gasp.

Flash. Thrust. Moan.

The angry voices of the skies are your metronome and you keep perfect time, pressing perfectly into my most secret folds with every roar of the thunder. My moans are masked by the insistent staccato of rain hurling itself from the heavens as if late for that most crucial of meetings with the earth.

Another flash. Another tick of the metronome… and the sweet, sweet thunder drowns my cries as I drown in my own orgasmic storm.

Thanks as always to Ang of Sweltering Celt for the micro-inspiration.

It's a walkoff! Er... I mean contest!

Nope, not my contest. (Sorry. I have no sponsors and no money to buy prizes out of my own pocket!) Just spreading the word about Epiphora's bumpy glass dildo giveaway!

Because seriously, who wouldn't want a pair of pretttttyyyyy glass dildos for free? I'm all about putting glass in my ears, so why not my cunt?!

Check out Epiphora's contest post for all the rules and how to enter.

To Be or Not To Be: That is the Poly Question.

As if I didn’t have enough to think about what with my own tomboy femme genderqueer identity, my sexuality, M’s transitioning and all that entails, and of course all the various mundanities of life… naturally I had to go and add polyamory to the mix.

At first I (stupidly) thought that it was simple: my primary partner is and always would be M, and that as we so chose we would bring other partners into our bed and possibly into our relationship if we felt that connection with them.

Of course it’s not that simple. Nothing is EVER that simple. Our attempt at a polyamorous relationship with J was a complete and utter disaster. J’s own shortcomings aside, the dynamic was one that we could just never fully get comfortable with. M especially was exceedingly unhappy during that time. He felt threatened by J, and not a little jealous because, well… J was born male-bodied. He had things and could do things that M could not – or, not as “naturally,” if such a term applies. But aside from all that, from discussions we’d had, M felt like he was constantly fighting to retain my attention while in the meantime I’m sailing through the NRE I experienced with J before things went sour. What had started out with the potential to be a true triad relationship had progressed into more of a V-type relationship as M became more and more disenchanted with J.

And like I said, things went sour with him. Not only BECAUSE of him, but because that type of relationship just was not working. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that me having a second partner-type relationship, or even bringing another partner into M’s and my existing relationship isn’t really the poly dynamic that works for us. At least, not right now. Not while so many other things are constantly changing and constantly fluid – particularly in regards to M’s transition. In our relationship things may be fairly stable, but in our LIVES there is NOTHING stable at the moment, and it’s just too much stress to try to add one more factor, one more stressor, one more thing to tilt the scales even more crazily.

Out of all this heavy contemplation, though, does come the positive: it has been well-accepted that playing with others, including sexual play, is totally fine as long as all parties involved are informed, consenting and willing to share even if it means just letting the other partner watch. THIS particular practice has been weighed, measured and not found wanting at ALL. It’s what works for us. For now. But as in anything in life, it’s always subject to change. Everything is.

But then of course I wonder: does our willingness to play with others without having an intimate (non-platonic) relationship with them make us poly? Is is it something else altogether?

Oy… never a dull moment!

HNT: Tied

Sorry, had to get creative with the cropping so that people whose permission I do not have won't be pictured here. Hence the size. Ah well - shaddup and admire my ropeyness and cleavagey goodness!

Blog post forthcoming... er, whenever I think of something to write that doesn't come across completely full of self-pity, completely whiny or completely bitchy. Yeah, it's been one of THOSE weeks!

Happy HNT all!

HNT: Posse Style

If you follow me, Roxy and ButchtasticKyle on Twitter you will know exactly what that title means and exactly how entertaining it was to take and post this week's HNT. :D

Unbelievable though it is, this shot is entirely accidental. I was holding that cloth up against the closet to that M would pin it up, but instead he just... took a shot! Annnnd it turned out! Funny how those things work! Oh and pssst: this shot is a clickthrough. Especially if you're Kyle...!

A Wee Bit About Me

Well alright, so as a faithful reader of Kaya over at Under His Hand, I was tagged by technicality to do this meme. Shut up and deal with it. :)

The Rules (And Parlay is not one of them!):

1. Link to your original tagger and list these rules in your post
2. Share 7 facts about yourself in the post
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post, leave their names & links to their blogs
4. Let them know they’ve been tagged

I should mention that in the name of getting to know the blogger better, I’m formulating this meme entirely on ‘nilla facts about myself. You hear a lot about my thoughts/identity regarding kink, sexuality and gender, but a lot of my mundanities have remained hidden, not so much out of a great desire for privacy but more because I haven’t wanted to bore my kinky readers with all the “normal” stuff. So, here, have a peek at the life I lead that doesn’t involve sex toys, orgasms and all-around genderfuckery. On to the Meme of Seven:

1. I am addicted to lip balm. It used to be mostly just ChapStick and all its myriad flavors and types, but lately I have been discovering the wonders of various natural lip balms. I NEVER leave the house without a tube in my pocket and I have a backup in my purse just in case.

2. I am indisputably a chick in three very well-defined ways: I love (most) chick flicks, I love (most) chick music, and I love Glamour, the fashion magazine. HOWEVER. I do not drag unwilling victims to chick flicks, I do not leave that “Glamour for Your Guy” section “innocently” open on the table, and I will change my chick music if someone else is in the car who will not appreciate the upbeat sounds of the Mamma Mia! soundtrack or KT Tunstall for the millionth time. So I guess you could say I consider myself a considerate chick – in SOME ways. :D

3. Forsaking all other creatures, I am a dog lover to the end. I rather pride myself on my knowledge of breeds and dog behavior/health in general; I think my love of dogs led me to become a vet tech although several months ago I switched careers for several reasons, none of which I’ll detail here for brevity’s sake. Needless to say: I like my cats, I like my various wee furry critters but dogs will always be my one true love (besides M of course, but then he is kind of like a big puppy).

4. I love to paint my toenails, but my fingernails haven’t been painted since junior high. I think I stopped painting them when I started working in dog boarding kennels and eventually animal hospitals; it just didn’t make sense to keep my fingernails all pretty when they would just get filthy over and over again throughout the day. And for what it’s worth, my favorite color to paint my toenails is gold.

5. I’m a total beach nut and love, love, love being outside at the beach, but otherwise I’m actually not a huuuuuge fan of being outdoors. I’m a big fan of cool, cloudy, rainy, stormy; I have been most unfortunate to live only in places plagued with too much sun, too little precipitation and far, FAR too much heat. The dream is to one day move further north into a climate where 80s is a heat wave and triple digits are nigh unheard of. It’ll happen… eventually.

6. Heh, I am actually really horrible at these “come up with x-number of random facts about yourself” memes. I know there are more facts about me that I could share, but when it comes time to actually recall them and put them into writing, I go completely blank. Worse still, after blankness comes a state of being completely and totally sidetracked. Such as right now.

7. My dog is really really cute. No, really. Look!

Okay, now I know the rules say to tag seven people for this, but a similar meme just went around the sex blogger circle (remember the Sexy Blogger Award?) and I don't want to subject my comrades to a similar survey. Plus, since when have I ever followed the rules? So tellya what: if you want to fill out this meme, bloody well do it! If not... ah well. It was something for me to write at least.

The "Tomboy" Part of Tomboy Femme

So, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about just how genderqueer I am. I’ve claimed the title for some time now but don’t know how much of the actual embodiment I’ve been doing. I’ve been a tried-and-true tomboy for so long now (read: all my life) that I’ve been doing a lot of embracing of the femme side of me, as if trying to balance out all that time spent as a tomboy without the “femme” part attached.

Unsurprisingly, M’s progress in transitioning from female to his rightful male self has brought a lot of this masculine business to the front of my mind. I’ve been wanting to play more with the side of me that isn’t infatuated with high heels and makeup and the lush curves of my body. I even toyed with the idea of what male name I would adopt if I ever adopted a fully male persona. (Not that me adopting a fully male persona would ever happen; it’s just one of those “what if” kind of random thoughts.) I’ve been wearing less makeup, having been overwhelmed with a fairly “meh” attitude at the prospect of putting on more than the essentials that make me NOT look like a dead person in the morning.

I suppose the time has come when the NRE between myself and my femme-ininity has faded from a bright radiance to more of a soft glow. The wild, unhindered exploration of my girlier side has been more or less fulfilled and now the other side of me that has sadly been somewhat neglected is starting to wave its arms wildly and shriek, “Hey, what about ME?!”

Thus, I feel, is the life of a person who is attempting to combine within him/her/zirself and achieve balance between the two most basic gender identities orbiting in the gender galaxy.

So, I imagine a new phase of my self-exploration has begun. Not so much a phase of exploring my tomboy-ness, for it is as I said before: I’ve been a tomboy for most of my life, so that aspect of myself has been thoroughly explored. Now the phase has arrived in which I explore how best to meld these two aspects into something that wholly encompasses me, something that conforms and fits like a well-tailored jacket.

It’s bound to be an interesting ride!