Sunday, February 12, 2017

The Art of Masturbation

The title of Rob's most recent video. 

There's these overlapping, swimming images, alternating between aproximately four different videos. 
I sent most of them ages ago. One I had no memory of, another was much more recent. 

There's one where I'm wearing tight and very fucking short jean shorts and a lace top. One where I'm sitting naked, or almost, and pouring coconut oil onto myself. Another where I'm in fishnets and yet another where I'm just on the bed with a tank top. 

The background sounds are an intoxicating mix of me whispering desires and needs into a mic, my breathing and Mezzanine, a Massive Attack song.

The videos are often in split screen, sometimes it's a video box over the main view. Some clips border on black and white with an industrial steel blue feel to it, others a sort of Polaroid, slightly overexposed and warm toned. They have a filter of soft fairy lights. But there's this glitch. The glitch is brilliant, it's intentional, the video skips, the audio clicks and it repeats almost imperceptibly. I love the glitch. He's inserted it into numerous places. It makes the whole thing unique. It's industrial and harsh and contrasts the soft and sexy images. It gives it an imperceptible edge. Maybe it reminds me of his attention to detail and the fact that it wouldn't be there if he didn't want it there. I think too that It almost mirrors his personality in a way. This warm exterior with unexpected playfully harsh undertones.... Maybe we both have that. 

When I record a video for him I don't watch it. I will sometimes roughly edit them down so they're not too long, but I generally can't stand to watch myself. I can watch myself live, I can watch myself no problem, but once I lose touch, once I get closer to coming, I get embarrassed. I don't want to see myself cum in a video. 

He sent me the video the other day. I'd seen a version at a moment when I couldn't watch. But Saturday I took my time with it. I actually managed to distance myself from it enough that it turned me the fuck on. I came hard, it had been weeks since I came. It was delicious. 

I'm so fond of the videos he's made, I feel sort of bad that I can't show them to anyone. Don't get me wrong... I'm not posting them anywhere public. But man, I wish I could. They are awesome. 


The poetry of abandoned places, consumed by time and devoured by nature. There is a village in Africa where the desert is slowly taking back what was once her territory. Sometimes I feel like we are all just waiting, like the village, to go right back to nature. Back to whence we came. My body gets tired though. It is decaying as we speak. We all are. From the minute we are born we start decaying. We are simply moving toward closing the circle.

What makes it worthwhile are connections, emotional growth and what chemicals we manage to release into our systems and how often. That craving for oxytocin, the love chemical. It's probably the strongest chemical we have. I'm no scientist but I doubt there's anything stronger and more lasting than oxytocin. 

So the short of it? We're all here to get drugged up before we die. The important thing is who we get drugged up with. That's what counts. That and how many times we can get drugged up. Some people aim for the lowest count, others aim for the highest. 
Sometimes it's inevitable, sometimes we can choose. There's no right or wrong. Just cock and pussy juice running down my legs. That's all that really counts. 
The ancient civilizations all had it right with their female deities. The ancient Venus. The large bellied and large breasted, faceless and limbless statue.

Provocateur par excellence. The embodiment of sexuality. She IS sex. (She is what the warrior in me wants to become). The ultimate objectification of woman like the phallus is the ultimate objectification of man. That is the meaning of life. Therein lies the answer we've all been searching for. Reproduction. But not just any reproduction. Reproduction with the goal of more connection. Oxytocin. 

Friday, February 10, 2017

Missing Luck

I fell at Christmas. Almost a month later my wrist started really hurting and making horrific noises when rotating. 
I went to the hospital to get x-rays but they didn't find anything so I went to the emergency ward and they gave me the option of a cast or a brace.
I obviously chose a brace. It's my right wrist, so that's a ton of fun. I can still do minor things like writing and painting, thank god. 
The other day, I got a cold sore, it was so much worse than normal. The day after I broke out, the whole side of my face started hurting, pain, burning sensation, pulsing and even just to touch the skin or hair around my ears was agony. 
This morning I wake up, cold sore almost gone, but I've got blood in my ear. Scary fucking shit. So now I'm at the doctor's office. 


She can't tell what's going on. She can't even see my eardrum it's so swollen. So, meds to take the swelling down, then we'll see. 

Gah... Feeling sorry for myself. Joy. 

Saturday, January 28, 2017

The Neighbour (Cont.)

So he's doing it again. And there really is no way of knowing what exactly is going on, but I seem to be getting personalized messages on FB again. They are mostly small emoticons or simple phrases, they look public but aren't, at least not completely. They aren't offensive or flirty at all. 

He had stopped for a long time but it started again a week ago. I noticed because the postsweren't getting any likes or comments, and they always appear at the top of my feed. Once he even made the mistake of forgetting to change the target audience back to public because he posted the same thing twice. Once to just me, and once publicly. 

I am still ignoring these posts. But I do admit to being mildly attracted to the attention. Then again I'm always attracted to attention, more so from certain people, mind you, but still an attention whore. 

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Submissive or Lazy?

I'm lazy. I'm really fucking lazy. I'm lazy in some things but not all things. One of those things is sex. I'm very happy to just lie there and get fucked. I'd much rather get fucked than fuck. I am a submissive lover, I wonder if it partly stems from my laziness. 
There are times when my libido is so strong I am tempted to throw a man onto a bed and fuck him, and I have done this numerous times. But if I had to choose, I'd definitely choose to be fucked. 
I'm happy just laying there while you slide your cock into whichever hole pleases you. I am not a strong woman, I'm not acrobatic, or one for a lot of bouncing, I get tired fast. I just want to take your cock any which way I can. I want to feel useless and used, helpless but helpful to your orgasm. Most importantly I want to feel worn out and worked hard. I want to feel exhausted and spent. To the point I can barely move. I am here, take every pent up emotion, frustration, anger, love, passion out on me. Use whatever you find, nothing scares me with you.  Traditional? Sure. Unusual? Even better. Dangerous? Try me. But I love that exhilaration. I love it when you do all the work. I love feeling your total control. Your guidance, your direction, your ingenuity. I need it. I crave it.

Wednesday, December 28, 2016


There have been very few occasions when I've cried during an orgasm. A couple with the bf and a couple with Rob. 
Neither person has ever noticed as far as I know. It's not like I break down into a sobbing mess. 

I'm not sure how long it's been since the bf and I had sex. But I do know it's been over a week since I've had an orgasm, even on my own. I've been incredibly horny for days. My nights were spent dreaming of sex to the point I wasn't sure if I'd possibly had a nocturnal orgasm the night before Christmas. But with the bf here I hadn't ventured into masturbating in bed with him sleeping next to me, even if I've done it numerous times before. 

This morning, after he got up for a few hours to let me sleep in, he crawled back into bed with me and we had sex. 

The orgasm was self assisted and it was frustratingly difficult to reach but when it came I screamed into his pillow and cried. 

The tear factor always confuses me. I'm never quite sure what causes it. There's this momentary and very intense sadness that hits me and I have no idea what I'm sad about in that very precise instant. It's obviously not just sadness, there's happiness, joy and most definitely a fucking huge release. 

It's this intense rush of emotions, chemicals flood the brain and muscles go into a frenzy. Fuck is it ever good. 

Saturday, December 17, 2016


When I get myself off without any visual aid I live inside my brain. It's an odd thing to analyze, I know because I've tried before and I'm not sure I was very successful. I'd like to try again. 
When I think of sex, when I fantasize about sex, my brain tends to choose a perspective or two. One is my own perspective. I visualize things as if I'm seeing it myself. However this is not my brain's preferred perspective. My brain's preferred perspective is from the guy's point of view. To the point of imagining what he would feel. 
My brain will switch back and forth between the two depending on what is more appealing. 
From the man's perspective I can imagine what it would feel like to thrust a cock deep down a throat. I can imagine holding a woman's ass as she's being fucked from behind. To be honest the woman is always me. Yes, this seems weird even to me. I can picture my (man) self fucking my (woman) self. But my 'man self' is not actually me. It's just me seeing through my partner's perspective. 

I imagine that on reason for my empathy; this capacity to feel what he is feeling, comes from porn. The imagery we see is almost always from his perspective. It has been engrained into my fantasies. I have never seen a porn video eroticize men like most porn does with women. I would be curious to see that. The only types of videos that do are gay porn, which is probably why I don't mind (though I don't actively search for it) gay porn. 

Another reason comes from my innate need to please. I want to please my partner so much that I embody his person's perspective. How else will I know if it pleases him?