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!

Microfantasy Monday - Tits

This week's theme and Microfantasy Monday in general brought to you by Ang via Twitter, as lately she has been a Traveling Sweltering Celt. Safe trip home, Ang!


“On your knees.”

Slowly she sinks down, her warm yellow-brown eyes wide open and locked unwaveringly on mine, beautifully framed by the black leather strap holding the ball gag in its rightful place. I circle her, my legs strong and steady in black leather stiletto boots.

In front of her again, I plant myself in a wide-legged, surefooted stance and let my eyes rove over her smooth, pale flesh. My fingers flex around the shaft of the crop in my grip. Without warning, my wrist flicks out. Crack. Before she even has time to gasp, the skin of her breast brightens as if blushing, forming the shape of the crop’s head just above the nipple. She shudders, goosebumps rippling over her skin.

Teasingly I brush the edge of the crop across her nipple, eliciting a moan and an arched back from my willing, eager victim. Wickedly I grin, a wolf who has successfully led her prey into a trap. “Did I say that was for you, my pet? And that it was permitted for you to react?”

Crack.

Bottom Fear

Okay. Gonna get deep and rambly and probably not entirely comprehensible. Just a warning ahead of time. Proceed at risk of your own sanity!

I think the idea of honest-to-blog submission scares the living daylights out of me.

And to be frank, I’m not entirely sure why. It’s not the physical pain, although maybe that’s a part of it because I do tend to psych myself out before I give myself a mental bitch slap and tell myself to knock it the fuck off and quit being such a sissy. I think it has more to do with the vulnerability aspect of it all. Truly surrendering control to someone else. Letting them basically have their way with me. I mean, there are safewords and other ways of communicating if things DO end up going too far, but… well, to make a long ramble short I probably really am psyching myself out.

I’m not even sure why I’ve been thinking about it so much. I think because I’ve become IRL friends and online/Twitter-friends with so many Tops/Doms/sadists that the idea of me in a submissive role has been a little more front-and-center in my mind lately. Particularly because my role as a bottom at some point in the future has been all but sealed with one or two of the Tops I know IRL. And don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing nonconsensual about it… still, I worry. Apparently I’m more like my mother than I thought.

I should conclude this rather ridiculous post by saying that once I HAVE bottomed to one or the other (or both) of these Tops, I will probably be on here writing a giggly, relieved and entirely sheepish post about how AWESOME it was and how STUPID I was to worry.

Still…!

WOW, What A Contest!

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The Sexy Blogger Award and... Me?

I gotta say, I’ve been getting a kick out of reading these Sexy Blogger Award posts. Reading what people view as sexy about themselves – it’s great, whether it be serious and heartfelt or completely goofy! It never dawned on me that I’d actually end up being a recipient of this award, but there you have it! Big, squishy e-hugs to Scarlet of the Femme Fagette for recognizing me as a fellow actually-kinda-boyish femme (yeah, that’s the technical term *wink*) and for counting me as a friend. I’ve got the warm fuzzies going on for real, y’all.

Okay, so now on to the tougher part: naming five sexy things about myself. I guess before I go anywhere else I should let you know this: I really don’t find myself overtly sexy or beautiful or any of those words I should probably revel in. I find myself… average, satisfying on a good day and passable on most other days. Even when I’m dancing I wouldn’t call myself sexy really. There are definitely some overwhelmingly positive feelings associated with my bellydancing, but… well, okay. That’s a big sidetrack. I’ll give it my best shot, so here goes: five sexy things about me.

1. The way I quirk my right eyebrow. I don’t know why exactly, but I feel kind of intriguing and awesome when I smirk and quirk my eyebrow. It’s rather fascinating how many thoughts can be conveyed through such a minimalist movement, and the variety of reactions that movement provokes.

2. The curve of my ass in well-fitting jeans. ‘Nuff said. Remind me to show you sometime.

3. My mods. Well-done mods are sexy on anyone. The body is a canvas and all that.

4. The color of my eyes and the fact that I got lucky enough to have my eye color match my favorite color.

5. The way I feel in my loose, abstract floral print pajama pants, a tank and a deep-vee sweatshirt thrown on for warmth. I’m so comfortable, yet at the same time showing just a little bit of skin… usually feeling kinda sleepy/happy from just having gotten out of bed… yeah, that’s a nice feeling. And, oddly enough, one of the few times I even come close to feeling “sexy.”

So there you have it, I suppose! Five sexy – or sexyish – things about me. Now to pass it on…

1. Kyle of Butchtastic.net because dammit, those sexy butches need some love too and this butch in particular is VERY sexy.

2. Kyle’s lover, Roxy over at Uncommon Curiosity because between the two of them, they REALLY sexify my Twitter feed and day in general.

3. My partner M, because DUH he’s sexy, that and I want to challenge him to find five sexy things about himself in this rather tumultuous phase of his self-image.

4. Nadia the Kinky Librarian, because her ventures in the world of kink and poly are enormously sexy and I truly enjoy her posts in which she shares them!

So there you have it. Sex on, my sexy blogger comrades!

Microfantasy Monday - Skin

This week's MFM brought to you by Pervy Uncle Kyle until our usual host, Ang, returns from taking care of business.


Carelessly he removes his shirt, the thin afternoon light filtering through the drapes stroking the contours of his arms, shoulders and chest, shimmering over skin that has soaked up the sun like a sponge in water. As he turns to fish a clean shirt out of his dresser, those rays opalesce along the faded lines of two scars that run under each pectoral muscle—lines I love to trace as we share a smile in triumph from what those scars signify, memorialize.

This skin is a golden canvas and it has been painted well, by sun and by artist alike. His life and passions are delineated in the designs etched carefully into the skin of his arms, chest and back—lines I love to trace with my fingertips, followed by my tongue all the while smiling wickedly as I watch goosebumps ripple in the wake of my touch.

This afternoon is no different; I can’t resist the call of the lines of and on his body. Entranced, I touch and soon the dresser and all the world outside is forgotten as I drown in the sheer delight of skin.