Michael Jackson: I Blame Your Tunes

I blame my overly active sexuality squarely on the shoulders of Michael Jackson and his music.

No disrespect to him and his memory but if you know his music like I do, then you'll understand.

Image courtesy of Amazon.com

When Michael Jackson's album "Dangerous" came out in 1991 I was 3 years old and I grew up listening to his older music too but particularly the music from that album. For my fifth birthday I asked for a tape (yes, a tape) of the album and everyday thereafter I spent my time lying on the floor, painstakingly listening to songs and rewinding to spots I remembered by heart to hear my favorite songs.

Since the same age of 5, I was a singer and dancer in a few local performance groups in my area so I spent much of my time, singing, dancing, rehearsing, and performing so it was natural that at the time I too wanted to be a big star. Fomr age 5 til 9 when people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, my response was always "I;m going to be Michael Jackson; a statement that makes no sense now but to my young self, it meant a lot.

I used his music to enhance my performance skills, memorizing lyrics and melody cues until I knew each song so well I began to form dance routines where I would express the sometimes heavy emotion expressed by Michael's voice.

My dance moves were not the cutesy moves of a little girl but the sex-filled motions of a full grown, sexual human. My mom would always remark when she saw me rehearsing,

"Make sure you don't touch yourself between the legs when you dance, it isn't ladylike."

I would always roll my eyes and explain to her that if the King of Pop did it and people loved it, they would love it when I did it too.

All during this time, I had no idea what sex was, had no idea people would lay naked together or even what a vagina was actually for. I had an idea that Michael's songs embodied a sense of artistic feeling along with the melody and though I never understood what "...and you know damn well she gives it to me." actually meant or that "...remember the times after dark." really meant something sexual was going on versus just doing something at night, I loved the music for how it willed my body to move and how engrossed in the rhythm it could make me.

Sadly as I wandered into my teen years and Michael Jackson was replaced by pop boy bands and pop princesses and those were replaced by scream-o rockers and punk drummers, I lost the feeling of the pure delight I used to feel when I listened to his music.

It wasn't until a few years ago that my now de-flowered self downloaded his "Dangerous" album on a whim one day that I realized how dirty it actually was and how much I still worshiped it. I;m blushing even now thinking of all the nookie that has taken place in my bed that has been fueled by Mr' Jackson's amazing bass lines and erotic lyrics.

In life and lust, no more wicked words have been spoken (or sung, rather) than,

It's just a feeling
You have to soothe it
You can't neglect it
You can't abuse it
It's just desire
You cannot waste it
And if you want it
Then won't you taste it?

His music will live on for longer than we even know but more than that, his sensual powers of song definitely awakened something in me far before it should have and I'm sure its made me the girl I am today. Good or bad? You tell me...

Art Is Not Chaste

"Art is never chaste. 

It ought to be forbidden to ignorant innocents, never allowed into contact with those not sufficiently prepared.  

Yes, art is dangerous. 

Where it is chaste, it is not art." 

/Pablo Picasso

The Virgin in the Family/Do Not Enter

On Easter Sunday after the morning service my family and I held hands in a circle, our pastor's hands on mine and my sister's shoulders linking us all as he prayed to commit my youngest sister's purity ring.

Yes, her purity ring.

I was brought to tears thinking of how much this could mean in her life and what her relationships with men will be like. It made me think back (which I never do) and imagine what life would have been like if I had gone the road of faith and pledged my body to God until I was married.

Photo via myfaithspace.ning.com

I didn't lose my virginity until I was almost 17 and it was to my boyfriend in the Marine Corp who was also a virgin and I have no regrets. We loved one another and had waited for longer than a year to have sex all through him finishing high school and then going through basic training.

We met on a beach and ran into the ocean with our clothes on and when we walked back to his truck with our friends, he let me wear his size 14 sandals because I couldn't get my sandy, wet legs back into my knee-high leather boots. He asked me if he could kiss me for the first time and I was sure that he would be big in my life. I was right.

That said, while I have no regrets, as we stood in a circle up near the stage of the auditorium with our hands clasped to pray for God to bless my sister's strength of will I tried to imagine my life if I had always said "No" and stayed chaste until marriage.

It was hard to do.

I won't say that sex has defined my life but it has definitely changed it, and changed me too. Sex complicated things, it simplified things, it killed things and made things happen. I've felt pleasure and pain and sadness and joy but most of all I would define my relationship with sex as an ever-evolving process of finding myself and my body and my strength through my power as a woman.

I'm glad that sex is not a huge mystery, that its not something to fear or hold high on a pedestal. It is important in your life, but not something to become totally fixated on.

That being said, it brings me to the current day and the fact that I'm dating someone new...but we can't have sex.

Source freeclipartnow.com

Almost three weeks ago I had a small internal surgery that became a big problem when during the supposedly simple procedure, my ureter ripped 4 inches south and had to sutured. Three days later, the sutures ripped and I was back in the ER. As much as that was a *totally fun night* for me, it got worse. The doctor who sewed me up brought me out of anesthesia with a question,

"Guess who's not having sex for a month?"

In my drugged addled state I replied,

"You?"

He laughed and said,

"No, you sweetheart."

I closed my eyes and let my head drop back down on the pillow, hardly contemplating the ramifications of this bit of information. For the first few days I was pissed that their mistake was going to hamper my quality of life but then I came to realization that what happens, happens and nothing can stop it. I smiled and prayed for a quick recovery and a reprieve from my usually overly lustful needs.

About two weeks ago at a dinner party I met a guy who was really interesting to talk to and whom about I said silently to myself, "Now this is going to be trouble" when I saw his masculine frame seated across the table from me. We hung out later into the night and ended up talking over the phone once we both went home until the sun came up and agreed to meet up for coffee the the next afternoon. We agreed to be friends but something stirred and we both knew it wasn't going to just stay "platonic".

The night he kissed me, I knew it wasn't going to be a simple situation. There was more to the attraction than we had both imagined but we didn't know what to do with it. My invisible chastity belt has been in the way and its been so interesting to feel my way through my feelings and longings versus just letting our bodies do the thinking. We have an undeniable animal attraction, something vital that could become something bigger if allowed.

For now I'm glad to have the buffer of my locked up panties to allow the tension an need to build up. The insane thing is that though my sex drive is higher than its been in the past few months, I have this need to refrain from touching myself because I only want to orgasm with him (Wow, I just shocked even myself with that sudden realization!).

I'm glad we have the time to let things work themselves out, build and change before we get lost in the lust that has so often consumed me in the past. Don't get me wrong though, I want to dig into him like nobody's business but for now, its huge for me to see past his trousers.

For the moment, only time will tell what this dynamic will or will not do for the forces at work between us. I don't want to sound like a giggling school girl, but I'm excited to see what will happen next.

The Man Made To Love Me

The man made to love me is out there somewhere.

The man made to love me will be sweet yet real and without exaggeration or swagger.

Photo via stumbleupon.com

The man made to love me will be loving yet sexual and not afraid to give it to me hard without thinking its disrespectful or wrong to see me as a sexual object, at least for the moment.

The man made to love me will feel lucky to have me in his life and feel blessed to have my devotion and desire to please and love him.

The man made to love me will be strong and brave yet not without fault for the flaws in people show their brightest points even brighter.

The man made to love me will feel family is the most important thing in life and that quitting or burning it to the ground in fear is not an option.

The man made to love me will be able to put up with my sometime fragility and weakness of body.

The man made to love me will love kissing me with love and passion as much as holding a hand tight against my throat as she fucks me deeply and without remorse.

The man made to love me will understand my strengths and weaknesses and give as much as I give and love as much as I love and respect me as I respect him and though life and love is never perfect, I know this man exists.

/written June 2008, personal journals

National Women and Girls HIV/AIDS Awareness

Today we take a moment to acknowledge the women and girls infected with HIV/AIDS in our country and also worldwide. At the end of 2008, 31.1 million adults and 2.1 million children were living with HIV/AIDS globally, that's 33.2 million infected individuals.

At the end of 2007, there were 15 million AIDS orphans left behind when both parents who were infected and had died, leaving them alone in the world.

Let's take a moment to absorb the effects of this virus on our world, on our women and our lives and pray for those affected by its existence in their lives.





Data collected from Avert.org

Not a Fiction Kind of Girl

I get emails all the time asking me if my writing is real or if it is just fictional imaginings from a fruitful mind. I really have to say that I'm not a fiction sort of girl and I revel in stories and remembrances of things that have actually happened.

I would have to say that, no joke, this blog is 92% actual events and 8% fiction.

If you don't count my dabbling in prose and inventive styling, then yes the actual events overwhelm the blind creativity. When I begin to write out a fictional story whose plot-line simmered up in my mind, I'm excited about it and can't wait to type it all out yet when I get to my laptop, the passion for it fizzles out. I feel like there's no sincerity and since my imagination can be so out of control, there doesn't seem to be any reality to it.

I love erotic fiction but I feel like the versions I construct either get too hardcore, too romantic or become too unbelievable. Maybe its just an artist's prerogative to be overly criticizing of their own work, who really knows?

Reality doesn't always have to be boring, so I make my reality worth being written and read and worthy of having a dialog fall all over it. Am I always the sensual social butterfly, certainly not, but if I'm going to go about doing something (sex, art, food, wine) I really have to go all out.

Life and the truth are more important to me and my way of sexuality than any kind of fiction I could invent. Simply stated, my life is sexy enough and my pen is willing enough that I don't often have to dip into just my imagination to create a fantasy for other people...and all with just my day to day.

2010: Sex Resolutions

So its a new year in less than 24 hours and I've been about how different my life is now as compared to last year at this time; I had a boyfriend who I lived with, a girlfriend who I lived part-time with, a crazy awful job and I was having a lot of sex with a lot of people, so much sex actually that I didn't even have time to write about it (unfortunately for all of you) which is also something to amend this year.

Everyone makes resolutions and for the most part we look back on them with a bitter sort of humor later in the year and think about how pointless it was to make them in the first place. However, I still believe in at least bringing to light my more undesirable personality quirks and habits because admittance in the first step to healing or some similar bollocks, right?

This year my Sex Resolutions are:

• I will not allow my sexual partners list to exceed 100 (...or is it 200? Oh no.).
• I will stop flirting/kissing/blowing/fucking/sucking/biting/licking men that come into my home to fix/repair/install/update or otherwise assist me in a (supposedly) business-like situation.
• I will stop wearing matching underwear/bra sets when I go out drinking/dancing/partying in preparation of possibly landing a bone.

• I will masturbate more (...not really necessary but a great idea, yay!).

• I will not become even more jaded when yet another ex hook-up/lover/boyfriend/guy friend/crush gets engaged and/or married.
• I will stop naming my sex toys (because its like losing a friend when I inevitably kill the poor things within a month or so).
• I will find a balance in my mind among church, classes, sex, work, making art, and friends and try to find more to be grateful for each day.

Simple things for a year I  hope will be simple yet joyful, calm yet exciting, relaxing yet full and above all happy.

A Trashy Reminder

You know that condom wrapper (one of about four we used) that you couldn't find that night after we fucked again after we just happened to run into each other at Monday Karaoke night?

I found it the next morning on the floor on the far side of my bed, having been hastily ripped and discarded.

I've left it there and its been three weeks since Karaoke night.

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The far side of the bed and its secrets.

I let it languish there and let it serve as an instant reminder of the heavy breathing, the pounding in my head, the biting kisses, of clinging to one another in the shower, your mouth on my kitten with the warm water sliding down my body and making droplets form on your eyelashes, and the way you kept your eyes on mine as you slid into me.

I feel like if I pick it up and throw it away (like any good girl would), it would kill the memory, cleanse me of it and painfully free me of the physical tie I still have to that night, to those sensations and to you.

I saw you again last night, at Karaoke night and somehow it wasn't the same. It hadn't been months since the last time I saw you like before, I didn't crave your body like before and the heat just wasn't the same when you kissed me and held me from behind while we listened to the band and rubbed the palms of your hands and your long, long arms down my hips and the tops of my thighs.

I still wanted you but this time it wasn't a fever and I knew that you knew it too.

When I stumbled home at 3 am I fell into bed, staring at the ceiling, an inebriated yet somehow jaded smile on my face. I turned to the space on the floor where the condom wrapper fell to and has stayed for weeks and reached out to it. My hand stopped short and I pulled it back, staring at the little, shiny, gold wrapper, feeling your breath on my skin, your rough manly hands on my breasts, my stomach.

I left it there.

I didn't want to let go, not yet at least.

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Sexting: Camera Phone Fun

So I love sending pictures from my camera phone and I'm not at all embarrassed to say that most of them are dirty pictures sent to those certain someones whom I might be currently in-cahoots with. I love a naughty photo.

I thought I'd share with you some of the dirty texted photos I've sent over the past weeks.

 

  

Don't you just love modern technology? It helps me be even more naughty than usual :)

Drunk, It Happens

It happens, 

In the moment I know I’m irrepressibly drunk.

I have the realization that my life is spiraling out of control but, it doesn’t scare me.

Rather, it gives me pause when I chuckle and think, 
“Who gives a damn?”
 
I throw my hands up, laugh out from my whole body and tense as my form is swung around like as it is on a carnival ride.

I am alive.

Alive.

..............

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Time Line & Existence

Although I've always been known as the "historian" of my family as I'm the one that snaps the photos, the one who documents things in my calendar and the one who designs the extravagant scrapbooks, I have a hard time putting the pieces of my own history together into a logical time line that is completely accurate.

I'm getting lost down the rabbit hole as far as my erotic history is concerned and I need to figure it all out.

The reason this is so important to me is that I hate confusing dates and people and events so much, its one of my obsessive flaws that I've never been able to break. I always want to have things filed straight in my own mind.

 

standing still on a distant shore...

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The problem here is that all of my romantic/sexual/hedonistic adventures and experiences all pretty much butt right up to one another as far as a time line is concerned; I'm just one of those girls who seems to be able to flit from lover to lover without all of that messy grieving and such.

I could be with Man A on Monday, like where its going and yet a week later after its lost its enchantment, I'll be with Man B on Sunday next and then Man C on Tuesday once I realized that Man B couldn't kiss very well.Or like with Gadget, I was seeing a long time friend intimately about a week after I ended our very serious two year relationship.

I believe I just think, Well that didn't go so well, let's try again, and I don't make a big issue out of it. It's not out of being shrewd and heartless but it goes by the fact that I am very analytical and straight-forward where my relationship coping skills are concerned.

While I'm mostly thankful for this, this ability/handicap makes it so much easier to be a rampant slut.

Why am I like this, do you ask?

I think it may well be because I am not one of those people who sits around regretting decisions, nor one who is willing to sit around and drown in one's sorrow. I like to take each experience in my life and consider it a learning/life experience, to heighten the positive and move on. While this makes things easier to view them in this way, I have at times tended to fall toward the negative side and this too has propelled me to a greater ability to take a deep breath, step outside the grief and move on.

Why torture yourself with what can't be changed?

Talking to Horns tonight made me realize that though I've been a slut, I haven't let it make or break me, which is vital. I enjoy sex and intimacy and fun, but I don't allow it to become all I'm about like some can do.

While I'm more willing to wake up early for sex versus breakfast, it isn't the only passion that drives me in this life. I have learned that one can be a sexual being without sacrificing one's worth and personality and while I'm an extremely accommodating, loving and generous young woman, I respect my body, my life and my spirit far too much to throw myself to the wolves in an effort to find myself a goddess in the eyes of every man.

I used to sleep with a guy when I was younger and he would roll off and I would frown as he sighed with his release as I was disregarded, I felt used up and rejected. These times were good for me as they showed me what I was not looking for and drove me to find what I craved to complete my sexual and sensual self.

I know that some would read these ideals I hold so dear and find them to be a contradiction of my sexually submissive nature; I think not and feel that they are very necessary for me to have while in this position. Submission isn't about being broken down into the most basic elements for enjoyment by a dominant, but rather is about finding that paramour in a man that can feel your passion and your spirit, find it alluring and can see a way to enhance that fiery bit of you to his pleasure and ultimately, yours too.

I submit to please and in doing so, I find pleasure too.

Being human is such a crucial and complex thing. On some levels we are very base in our needs and drives while in others we excel in our complications and refinements. We are each so many layers all clinging together to make a being who is all at once so many contradicting things.

This is the beauty of our existence.

We suffer and grow and fall down and soar but in the end its all about having the power to be yourself at the end of it all.

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The Whore in the House Next Door

I am full of questions today and full of jubilant energy just springing from my rabid love of adventurous knowledge seeking and interviewing and I'll tell you why; Yesterday I found out that in the house next door to mine, lives an actual, living, breathing prostitute.

I couldn't be more jazzed.

 

Is it still called a "Peeping Tom" if the perpetrator is a girl?

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Let's call her Lily. Lily is from Sussex in England and she's lovely and intelligent and healthy and lives a very lovely life with her husband who is also from England. She has lovely red hair and a pretty pink yogurt sort of complexion and she's in her late fifties.

It absolutely bowled me over to hear that this woman was a sex worker.

I'm not in a judgmental head space when I relay this information to you, but rather my mind is all twisted by my discovery. I have friends in my city who are sex workers (my state does not permit prostitution in any way, shape or form, by the way) and I've found them to be the most honest, vibrantly self truthful people I've ever encountered. They seem to have this air of dispatched preconceptions that so many people seem to have, including me. It frees them up...a lot.

So unfortunately Lily had a run in with the law about licensing for bank transfers from her credit merchant that processes customers pay information. She runs a house where several other girls work from and she pretty much heads it up so she took the brunt of the drama. This is how it came to be community knowledge.

The other horrible thing about Lily's predicament is that now our neighbors have started to shun her and her lovely husband for fear of catching her horribly contagious case of the "whore flu".

 

Do note that during the Victorian Age "gay" was a term appointed to those working 

in prostitution versus those who were homosexual.

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Our neighborhood is a mixed sort with older people, families with kids, single people, and we even have a pastor from our local church. I was sickened when a particular neighbor who may or may not be the pastor came up to me as I walked my dog one early morning and asked,

"So what's your position on the twisted sinner that lives next door to you?"

I nearly gagged as I replied,

"I really don't know who you're referring to as we're all sinners here on Earth, Pastor."

With those burning words, I stuck my little chin in the air and trotted back home with my tiny dog in tow.

I really couldnt believe that he had asked me that and had judged her so severely based on one piece of her life even though he knows her quite well and used to consider her a friend. Its so sad to me.

I feel a human being should be judged on the whole combination of their person, their soul and their merit and not on the one pointless mark that they happen to be a sex worker.

Whores are people too, damn it!

(Do know that I use that word in only the most loving way.)

Being a slut of some high degree, I know what its like to be judged for being sexually free and open and my heart goes out to Lily in her time of need. It hurts to know that even in modern society an enterprising woman can't be respected as she should just because some tend to find her line of work morally reprehensible.

I even baked cookies and left some on her doorstep with a note that said,

Keep your chin up, things will be better. Signed, A Friend.

So Lily, if you did enjoy those cookies just know it was me, the bouncy college student who lives next door that gave you that little nudge to make you smile.

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A Segment of Being

Since I have become a worshiper of Sinclair at her blog Sugarbutch Chronicles, her lines of thought have provoked much in me, and not only in a sexy way.

Her questions, her topics they always get me thinking in come fashion or other and the post I read today "What's In Yours?" really got me into thinking about some things I'd rather not be forced to drudge up from the muck.

Still, it was wonderful for me.

I am a sexual being. I am a female being. I am a human being...and not necessarily in that order either.

 

A Reproduction.

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It becomes easy to poke through my days with my ever-present smile and to make the most of things, I'm a mostly positive person and it means so much to me that I can even want to smile after all that I've been through in my life so far. It can be healing to go back into the thought of the past and into pain, not to dwell but rather to look back, assess the damage and grow from it.

I am in the mood to heal, not to lash open old wounds and drown in the old blood.

I realize that I have not done things perfectly but I feel as if even the pain helped me to grow and to learn and to figure out my purpose as a person and a woman. I would rather live in error with moments of bliss than to danger a life of boring perfection with those biting moments where you realize you are contained in the absolute fear of losing it all to chance. Life is luck and agony all rolled into one and I find myself fortunate to know this.

In her post, Sinclair asked "What's in your box of darkness?" referring to a poem on her blog. The poem and her question really got me thinking and here's what came of it:

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The feelings too harsh to live amongst the light,

The tears that fell onto my collar bone,
The whispered lies they told me,
The sparkling diamonds the world promised me,
The glamor I’ve achieved by selling myself,
And the path that is not yet complete…

This is too much for one box to hold…so I help it out and carry it with me always.

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All of the above items are true and I feel as if each experience in my life has brought me along to the next one so even if I did have a touch of regret then, I don't harbor it now. the past can't be changed and you are never infallible. I accept my flaws and I make them a part of me to be loved and to be held close:

I am human being and I am a female being and I am a sexual being.

I don't confuse the order of those anymore.

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Love & Sex = Chemical?

We probably all go through that conflicting moment when we have a sexual attraction to someone and we think of them without their clothes; we imagine what it would be like to be slithering around on a bed with them.

Then, after all that, sometimes we think what it would be like to date them.

Believe it or not, this is a compacted thermal image of my face in profile (the far right is the curve of my chin) when I'm experiencing orgasm. A friend of mine is a biology major with a focus in human sexuality so I helped him out with his project and I got this amazing image out of it.

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Does that mean love comes after sexual attraction? Are hot bodies required for love? Pretty faces? Love is a chemical response to someone else, its all a hormone thing in your brain that is so overwhelming that it can take over all of our senses. I'm not saying its not more than just a chemical rave in your brain, but isn't that what an orgasm is? Isn't that what sexual attraction is?

I'm more inclined to believe that love is a mostly emotional demon and that its a true and self controlled thing. I mean, who would like to think that all of their emotions and responses are totally out of their hands? Here's a bit of info about perceived reality based on Quantum Physics (bet you didn't think I was so smart).

I know that I've been able to have sex without love or attachment and then I've been in love and experienced sex at a totally new level of sensation. Ive also experienced overwhelming lust for someone just playing eyes in the coffee shop and having nothing more come of it. I feel absolutely that society has put these constraints on us that sex is with someone you love, someone you know and who you know is going to stick with you monogamously. What was the first thing your mother told you when you were getting "the sex talk"; it went something like this I'm sure:

"When a man and a woman love each other very much...."

Note that it specifies "a man" and "a woman" and also this love again. Very tricky.

Why make sex such a big deal? If its all chemical, then its a bodily function, right?

I'm always trying to break free of my Puritan American beliefs as they seem to still have a strangle hold on all of us for the most part. As time marches forward and the collective consciousness opens up, its plain to see that our society has become more comfortable with sex and sexual images, music, and talk but have we truly opened ourselves up to take part in the orgiastic chemical reaction chain in our bodies? Can we give up and just live for sensation versus thought?

Saying "I love you" is very different from saying "I want to fuck you" but still, both of these feelings come from the same place: the Amygdala in your brain. The Amygdala is a little ball of nuclei in your temporal lobe that controls arousal, automatic flight response from fear, emotional responses (in a physical manner) and it takes care of your hormone levels. By puberty, you Amygdala is working overtime and is heated and ready for action.

I find it very interesting that all of these complex processes are controlled by one little area of the brain.

So why get into all the complexities of your brain, arousal and emotional function? Its to just show how closely these processes exist within you, yet they can be completely separate. Its so interesting to me how nature works. It all goes back to the primitive days of man and how to best have us survive and thrive.

Gotta love a bit of evolutionary science.

I'm just wondering if others can feel totally unattached and still enjoy sex, sensuality. I feel that sometimes it can be better and different if you're just in it for the sensation, for the pounding chemical love in your brain, feeding down into every nerve in your body. Does every girl like to feel like a bad girl, even briefly?

Do you live to feel as I do?

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Naughty or Nice?

I think one of the biggest things I find funny about meeting people is that when they make my acquaintance, they always perceive me as being a very proper, very prissy, very prude like girl. If they only knew, right?

Angelic American beauty.

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I know that its because I do have quite a proper facade in my work and in my daily life with most people, its easier to just be a good worker and to be have good relations versus being sensationalized and having too much attention for the wrong reason. Plus, I think it may be just a bit too fun to be the naughty girl beneath all of the pomp and elegance.

Good girls don't have fantasies about girl asses in public or want spankings so hard and vigorous that they leave bruises, do they?

I've gotten past the labels long ago but my feeling is that people will always accept what you give them at a first glance and run with it. Im fully aware that a book is worth much more than its cover, but in my daily life, its easier to just get away with being everyone's favorite sweet little friend. My facade is pretty good too.

A person has so many different facets and levels to their personalities that I don't believe that I'm trying to fool anyone or be dishonest, I'm simply being myself, but a little bit closely hinged. Who wants to have to confront the deepest levels of a person at first glance? Its easy for me to laugh and just be sweet instead of coming full out with my most passionate and sensual self.

That being said, though I am sweet and caring and full of love, I do have that bit of me that doesn't sit down to others' disrespect.

 Kiss from a rose...

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I live my life with a model of grace and feminine charm, no one would expect that I'm such a sexual person as I feel that the sensual aspects of someones personality can be mistaken for a certain wanton loose sexuality, especially when this is perceived of a woman. I don't wish to be seen as the city slut, but who could fault me for that?

Growing up, my southern Grandmother always used to tell me to keep my charms to myself lest I be found to be loose and undesirable to a respectable man some day. My Grandmother was born in 1915 and though her wisdom had a twist of deep nostalgia to it, it still rings true to some degree.

I would look around my school growing up at the girls who everyone talked about in hushed tones, the ones that "gave it up" and I was horrified that my fellow classmates would somehow figure out that I too was a closeted slut. My mind worked constantly on fantasies of sex, foreplay and sensuality and I prayed to God to either make me pure or to make it so all of this desire never made it out of my mind and become etched into my skin for all to see.

Luckily for me, I never was into the boys at school, so no rumors ever slipped around campus about me being lecherous and sexually deviant. I kept my nose in my books, kept up my Honor Student grades, went to occasional parties but always made sure to always show my more fun, cute reserved side lest I be recognized for what I truly was; a sensual girl.

I realize now that I really don't care what others think of me, but its ingrained in me to be this polite, giggly girl around everyone and to never let them suspect a dirty thing of me. I feel I live in a very interesting way, concealing my more personal side from all and it may even add a bit of fun to it. Like when you go to class in tight jeans and "forget" to wear panties. You have a secret that no else can see.

I have many secrets and in particular, I have the secret of a sensual, sexually deviant mind. I love myself and I love the way I have grown up to be. I may live some of the time in the musky shadows but I wouldn't change a thing.

Anyone want to be involved in a secret or two?


....

Slow.Soft.Hot.Perfect

Do you ever have those days where your body is alight with passion and you can't help but you rub your thighs with the heels of your hands and bite your lips just to keep from showing your need?

Yeah, me too. Frequently.

 

Nature's gift to my body, with a touch of feathery goodness.

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At first morning's light, he can feel my skin's heat as if its glowing from within. The sun is soft and light outside and has not yet woken enough to disturb all that is silence within the safety of my room. The rushing silence only lets in thoughts that linger and press against one another inside my mind. There are times at which my physical self becomes the silent partner and my mind is the one that creates the heat and torrent of lust that I can always whip myself into.



I think often of the slip of willing flesh and how marvelous you can feel when your body is taken by silent invasion by another. Every sensory input is the greatest I've been gifted with and I have to admit to myself that sex and sensuality are the things my body and senses live for. Even the feel of scruffy cotton against my damp lips can be enticing, emotional, and libido enhancing.



In the dark its easy to imagine the most carnal moments becoming reality and things feel somewhat dream-like, in a way that sometimes I can't wrap my head around. In the morning however, every cruel arch of my back and every slick sound I hear to the beat of our rhythm is extremely real and amplified by my enhanced sense of vision. I cold blue morning light has its own ideas of how to enhance my sensual undertakings.



I can feel how pink my tongue is in the morning and how wet each and every kiss is. At times I feel overcome by how naughty it feel to partake in carnal machinations during the day's first light. My hand presses to his shoulder and I look at how detailed my nails are and how carefully groomed they are and there's a biting realism that accompanies all that goes on.



Do you have that moment ever where you just think "God, I am so sickly hot right now."?



Well when I do its because my body feels like all of my molecules are hot and sloppy and rubbing together in an orgy of sensation to force me into that final deviant act.



I know the skin of my cheeks is warm and pink; a blush of sin is my personal and private attribute.



I can feel a fire kindling and I just want to be kissed, held, loved, rubbed, cuddled, ravaged, and all at once. I have dreams at times where I'm engulfed by a kiln and when the flames like the flesh of my legs it forms all the memories of my exploits back up in my mind.



I guess it just shows that my life having been lived in passion and sensuality so far wouldn't make me regretful if I died tomorrow.

I live in heat.

..............

...

Pansexuality: Love is Everything

As I've been trying to find my own sexual identity, its been a path of discovery and self truth; love is everywhere and can be found in everyone, no matter their gender or persuasion.

Love comes in every color and creed; my digital art w/ my photo.
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In the 60's they had free love, in the 70's they had swinging, in the 80's everyone buttoned up because of the AIDS scare and in the 90's be-condomed teenagers fucked in their basements while Nirvana played in the background. The now is something different.

More or less, people are coming out as their most true selves, the gay, the bi, the straight, the genderqueer, the transgendered, the transsexual and people have been forced to deal with all this information and all of these options as a potential identity.

I was raised with the belief that you should love and respect everyone, no matter their physical disability, their sexual persuasions or their race or creed, I was raised in love. My mother always just wanted me to be happy and when at thirteen I told her I had dreams of having sex with women, she smiled and said that I shouldn't worry because I should just do whatever it was I wanted to do and feel however I should to find my own happiness.

I am filled with love to the bursting point.

Ever since I was a little girl I was always the one who made friends with the boy who was pushed down in the playground, his knees bloodied and tears streaming down his face; I would be the one to hold out her hand and show him acceptance and love. I am the girl who would pick up a conversation with the new girl in school, just to make the frown leave her face as she sat alone at lunch. I am the girl who hugged her best friend when the guys on the football team teased him for being gay and punched him, his cheek bruised and tears streaming down his face.

There is no person on Earth with a loving heart that I would exclude from my friendship based on the social strata or rules. I have never followed a vanilla path in life and have always held an open mind that has been shocked by little. I feel life is an experience that needs to be milked for all that it has, and to exclude anyone, any thing, any activity or preclusion would be denying my passion for life.

I am a blank slate for experience and I intend to get my money's worth. :)

So staying in this vein, my mind has wandered around figuring out my own sexuality, given the fact that I have experienced much in the way of diversity with the two sexes and what you can do with your body and the bodies of others; I have come to conclusion that I never have to make up my mind.

I can live as I see fit.

My best friend said something fantastic as he introduced me to a friend of his at a party a few weeks ago. In the gay community, if someone is introduced to you and it isn't obvious from the starting point, they ask you what your sexual persuasion is,
"What are you?

Its a common question, and Im not offended by it but it always stumps me. Am I gay? Am I straight? Am I bi? Am I a purple people eater?

When I failed to be able to answer, my friend stepped in a said,

"She's pansexual!"

I laughed and then so did my newly introduced friend,

"Thats gorgeous! Nice to meet you."

I've thought about it during these past few weeks and I have to say, its absolutely true. I wouldn't deny the love of someone that I was attracted to because of their gender identity or their persuasion; if its love, its love.

Pansexuality literally means, to love or be attracted to humans. Yes, humans in general, barring sex, gender, persuasion and hardware. To really love and be turned on by anyone.

Thats not to say that I wouldn't turn away from a certain fetish, because god knows you can't be into everything and its not to say that every single person who walks down the street turn me on, but I wouldn't exclude you from my realm of possibility because of whats in your panties (or even what used to be in your panties), but based on a person, I could never judge or shun; its just not me.

So based on this discovery, if I fell for a post-op transgendered girl, I wouldn't break it off upon finding out about her past. If she was living her life honest to her own soul and her own passion then who am I to stop loving her?

So I guess that makes me an equal opportunity slut, doesn't it?

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Its always been so hard for me to understand whats going on in the minds of those who judge and shun and hurt those who are different from them. I get that they fear what they don't understand and also that people are raised with not so open minded beliefs by their families but once one becomes an adult and sees that gender and sexual persuasion are not things that you should hold against others, wouldn't they open up?

How could so many feel so much hatred?

I think of two mantras when I think of how people should live, The Golden Rule: "Treat others as you would like to be treated." and "All men are created equal." Why can't they be true in all the minds of the entire populace?

Its something I may never understand, but for my life and my contribution, I have only love for everyone and anyone.

.............
...

Gone, Gadget, Gone

So once and for all, Gadget is gone and I find myself single once again and shockingly, my world hasn't fallen apart in fact, I feel free and liberated. Life is mine alone again.

Warning: doctored stock photo
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After two years and two almost-break ups, Gadget and I are over due to me dropping a box of his belongings on my lawn and calling him to tell him he better pick it up. It was the nice thing to do on my part though, as it seemed like any minute it would be raining. Aren't I a doll?

It really wasn't all that dramatic, but it did happen. He picked up his box on the grass and dropped his key to my place in my mailbox. I was crying in the shower at the time but since, I haven't cried a drop and its only been three days. I know it's easy for me now because I've known for a long time that he wasn't what I wanted and it took some willpower to kick me into action and also a choice opinion from him to change my mind about him completely.

Don't you just hate when you learn something about someone you thought you knew down to their bones and it completely changes your opinion of them? Well, that happened along with all of the other mounting pressures from within.

I feel like I'm in a good place and that all this love lies ahead of me, not only with other people, but with myself and my future. I'm thinking about getting a job at a big newspaper, thinking about moving and thinking seriously about my sexuality.

Like before, am I or aren't I? Who knows but I have all this time to figure it out.

I'm sort of sickened that I'm so comfortable and not a mess after ending a two year relationship, shouldn't I feel more? All I can think of is how great it is that I'm single. It feels like flying.

I am sad for the end of it and he was a great love of mine who I'll never forget for as long as I live but his time was over and I feel it's a good thing, a very good thing.

After all, you don't need other people kicking you down who say they love you. This end is a new beginning.

...........
...

Am I or Aren't I?

If you sob when the man you've been involved with seriously for nearly two years is in the process of making love to you, could it mean that you're going through a sexual crisis?

Well if the answer is yes, then I'm in serious trouble.

A few weeks back, Gadget and I were near splitting but in the end it sort of resolved itself, if not for the sake of the relationship, then for the sake of both of our mental states. Were both going through big changes and overthrows in our lives and perhaps we just wanted to edit the drama down for the meantime. Sound depressing? It is, but mostly confusing.

Mirror Image: Two lips kissing of the same persuasion
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I'm having some mixed up feelings and thoughts pour through my mind that are confusing, tantalizing, frightening, hot, dangerous, anti-normal and just plain naughty; I cant stop thinking about girls.

Day and night, in my sleep, as I work, as I paint (naked girls), when I'm reading, its just overwhelming. Now my issue is not the fact that I'm fantasizing about girls, I've been with girls even longer than I have with men during the evolution of my sexual life but its the fact that I haven't really been fantasizing about men. Usually its a fifty/fifty thing, but lately its around eighty/twenty.

I identify with the gay community, all of my friends are gay men and I feel comfort knowing that I have huge gay tendencies. So wheres the problem? I'm afraid that if I "come out" and one day go back to a man, or randomly hook-up with one as I often do (but haven't done since Aaden) that I'll be seen as a hypocrite, which is personally one of the most horrible things to be.

So why not just stay labeled as "Bi"? I don't know, but somehow it doest seem honest, somehow it doesn't speak for the reality thats raging in my mind. I know that I will be with another man again (hell, I am still with a man) but it seems a discourtesy to whatever girl I'm with to be Bi, like I'm not putting in as much as she is.

My fantasies have ranged from just those of sexual satisfaction to a relationship, the latter having not been something I've ever thought of. I have thoughts of kissing this mystery chick and holding her, cuddling with her and going out, being a real couple. Its a little bit scary because it threatens everything I thought my life would be once I "grow up".

Though I'm a bit of an anti-establishment shit, I still have the mind set that once I'm older, I'll get married 9to a man), have children, work and be an upstanding American. It sounds ridiculous but Its just how my mom raised me to think, and though I don't think it will actually happen like that, it still is always there lurking in my subconscious.

I've realized how easy it is to just be a young, straight girl living in the U.S.. I've taken it for granted really.

It's so easy to just let everyone think you're "normal". They ask you how your boyfriend is, how school is, how your friends are and everything is just fine; imagine what it would be like if my mother's elderly friends were to ask me how my boyfriend is and I have to say,

"Well, she's not exactly a "boy"friend."

I admit its a horrible way of thinking, especially since I recognize my mostly homosexuality and I see what goes on in the lives of my outed friends. I need a burst of courage maybe or perhaps to be slapped to a realization.

Its funny isn't it? The neighborhood slut is thinking that perhaps she's gay?

Its isn't really all that though maybe, maybe I just need to get my sex on with a girl again, god knows its been a while. Maybe I'm just taking out my relationship problems in this way.

Maybe this whole thing is just hormonal and will die down soon, but for now I'm going through one heavy duty mind fuck and need some clarity.

.........
...

A Damaged Girl

This week, I came upon a moving entry from one of my favorite bloggers who I recently found, CCG at Confessions of a College Callgirl.

She spoke about a subject in her post entitled "Sick and Sad" which is close enough to my heart to have nearly ripped it from my chest.

The above is a piece of my original photo-art, entitled, of all things, "Damaged Girl".
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She, like I, was wounded at a young age with abuse and has all of her life lent upon the unsteady flow of attention from men to keep her bruised ego floating on the surface of her problems. She wrote the most touching blog entry which got me thinking in a far more personal way (as if my sexual life weren't personal enough) than I usually do for this blog. She, in many ways, is my mirror image.

Even with all of the joy in my life and even though I know I'm living the life I was meant to, it still mangles my heart when I think of all of the sorrow I've endured on the way to my life now. My life is beautiful most of the time, but there's still pain.

I have been the first to admit that Im a severely wounded person. Physically, emotionally, chemically, sexually and all other ways possible. Its been a hard road to the point of understanding that not everything in life is supposed to be like the beautiful films they make in Hollywood.

My mother told me that in life you can be and do anything you want to in life and that happiness is everywhere you look; the next day I was raped, and all this at only age thirteen.

I feel like I have to put up colored screens in front of my emotions, just so people will like me. I'm the sunny girl that everyone knows who would do just about anything for a friend. I bake cookies and cakes and sing and dance and act and paint. I smile and giggle and walk with a bounce that makes my ponytail sway and sometimes I want to hurl myself off of the 17th Street Causeway Bridge and drown.

The charade can only go on for so long before it begins to break.

Its hard to be so honest and dark when every waking hour is spent trying to convince yourself that everything is ok.

I've tried to keep this blog light and sexy and carefree because thats what people want to read...right?

I'm and intelligent, loving, pretty, education oriented young woman and God help me when my mind starts to stray to the sadder parts of my memory banks. I've spent so much time and energy doing things that increase my self-formed conception of my eality and it hurts so much to know that most of my self esteem has been rested in the palms of the countless strangers I've allowed to sully the sanctity of my body.

A glance from a man I'll never see again has meant more than any platitude given to me by a best friend. Its such an awful circle. I don't give compliments easily because somewhere I have the sick misconception that somehow it will deplete my stores of the ego bolstering compliments I myself have received.

Think of all the moments I'll never get back because of my insecurity about my body, my perception of my levels of popularity and desire. My thoughts mirror those of CCG's so closely that it aches far too much to even go back over what she's posted so I can relate my own side on all of it.

All of my relationships have been made in an effort to kindle the never-ending longing for love and companionship Ill never truly feel because deep down I loathe all men because I've seen their most brutal and disturbing side in the faces of nameless criminals who have defiled and bruised me. How could I love someone who resembles my biggest nemesis?

I seduce all of my male friends to give them just a taste that will keep them at my side like weeping puppies, jut for the satisfaction it gives me. The most fearful part of this detail is that its become a sad addiction of sorts, completely beyond my control, like a subconscious neural reflex. I hurt them first so they don't have the chance to hurt me back, and so continues the vicious circle of insane reciprocity.

I hope that somehow and in some way that eventually I'll find a way to cull these pains, but until then I wander ceaselessly like a love-starved infant. How can I start to build my own identity outside of the unfulfilling momentary acceptance I get from countless, meaningless exchanges?

With each glance and with each fumbled tryst I lose more and more of myself, where will it end, if ever?

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