Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.

Why 69 is a bad math equation for me

The idea of 69ing is hot and magical. A way to take oral sex to the next level of giving pleasure while working toward your own climax. There is almost something more intimate to me than standard intercourse. Something about having your mouth on someone’s genitals that takes things to a different level. That’s always the approach that I start with anyway.

Somehow the experience gets lost in translation for me. It always sounds hot. Naked bodies intertwined with tongues. Fluids and moans in a race for orgasmic bliss. See, doesn’t that sound amazing? It never works out this way for me though. I think that may be because it’s hard for me to focus on the multiple sensations. I am so engrossed in making my partner cum, that it’s nearly impossible for me for relax enough to orgasm myself. So I intently throw everything at getting an orgasm out of them. It’s not like I don’t enjoy myself. It certainly feels good. And it’s an activity that I rarely turn down. I mean, it lets me suck on a cock and get my clit licked, what’s wrong with that?

Maybe I just need to change my approach. Do more people use 69ing for foreplay? If an orgasm isn’t the goal then maybe the focus could be more evenly spread. I just need to back up and enjoy the experience. That could be a parent thing too. Generally we feel rushed to orgasm as quickly as possible as the knock of the door can happen at any time. Though that seems like a cop-out for a feeling I’ve had regarding this activity since college.

Perhaps more practice would offer a solution to this problem. Maybe a 696 or 969 would help me figure out the exact issue. Several rounds of experiments will need to be undertaken. Anyone interested in helping me with this math?

See how everyone else feels about the art of 69ing and meeting of the bodies and minds this week.

Wicked Wednesday for post Stockpiled Cravings

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Elust #91

Elust 91

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Photo courtesy of Silverdrops Toybox

Welcome to Elust 91

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #92 Start with the rules, come back March 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Forcing Growth

In Stitches

The Instrument and the Ornament

 

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Imagine? You Might Wish You Hadn’t!
she’s picture perfect

 

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Morning Stretch

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Amber alert
Spanking: Chapter One
‘How To’ Femdom Series
Play it safe
Formative Kink: “The Happy Hooker”

Erotic Non-Fiction

Follow Your Heart
Humiliating Raylene: Kissing Lynette
THREESOME – prepared
Leaving Questions Unanswered

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Genital shame in the news
Cock and Balls Sling Demonstration

Poetry

Chastity, No Boner: A Lusty Limerick
Roleplay (inna damp, dark alley)

Erotic Fiction

Portraits of You
Addicted
Words of Fuck

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Nothing good can come from this
UNCLEAN: Dirty, Sweaty, Filthy, Messy Sex

Events

GRUE

 

 

Elust 88

Nothing Good Can Come From This

“When you were having sex with her, were you thinking about me?”*

This question always confused and angered me. Long before we opened our marriage or I even considered being poly. First, wouldn’t it be terribly sad if that was the case. Presumably they would thinking about you out of malice and not any sort of positive feelings. Who has sex with someone and thinks, “Man, I really miss my girlfriend, this sub-par pussy will have to do”? And, because I think about things like this, how sad is that for that other woman (the sub-par pussy one)?

If both people sign up for a consensual, non-connection fuck, that’s one thing. But I personally know it would crush my ego to find out a guy had been thinking about someone else the whole time. Masturbating is one thing, or even fucking during porn and picturing me as someone else. Since I am someone who looks for an emotional connection with anyone I fuck, an old girlfriend would be a low blow.

Which leads me to my other issue with this direct statement. I’m not going to generalize as I certainly don’t know the manipulative capacities of all men. But, in my experience, guys are not thinking about the consequences of fucking while they are fucking. I don’t either, if I’m honest. Now, I’ve never played ‘pull-out pregnancy roulette’ as my family is as fertile as they come. So that may be something else all together.

Also, as far as I know, I’ve never been with a guy who was cheating. In my experience the guys who have fucked me weren’t thinking about how an ex or current girlfriend would feel about the situation. I’m not saying that to be egotistical, I honestly believe it to be true. Some other girls face in place of mine? Maybe. But I still would hope it wouldn’t be a past lover.

There is one more issue that this trope brings to mind for me. An admission, if I’m honest, about my own thought during sex: I don’t much. I wish I could say that whenever I have sex with someone I am 100% focused on them. Hell, I can’t even say I create a rich fantasy in my head of myself and Ryan Reynolds flying off into the sunset on his private jet. Nope, the best I can usually do is several moans and some ass grabbing (if my hands are free).

It’s not a personal thing, and certainly not a reflection if my relationship with said other partner. It’s that what I am physically feeling completely takes over my brain. During breaks I really try to make eye contact and focus on my partner. As we shift positions or move from one sex act to another I try to check in. This is generally because once said activity starts, my mind goes completely blank.

Trust me, I know how pathetic that sounds and I wish I could do better. Part of me thinks that is why I like blow jobs to much; I can completely focus on my partner. During sex I register what I am feeling physically and whether or not it feels good. How I feel about it emotionally usually doesn’t hit me until later. Which is probably why I look for guys that I have an emotional connection with. I need to trust them enough to know that they will be around for the aftercare portion of the evening (even for non-BDSM sex). During sex I let go and float along with all the pleasant feelings and moments of no responsibility. Having someone hold me as cold, hard reality slaps me in the face once again is nice.

This double-edged sword of a question also has a changing significance for me now that I’m poly. I guess I generally want my husband and Jack, or any other future partner, to know that when I am with them I am focused on them. And, I expect the same from them. I like the idea of Jack missing me and thinking about me, but not when he’s with another woman. If, for no other reason than I don’t want him thinking about them when he’s with me.

Poly, at least for me, doesn’t mean that I’m thinking about other people all the time. Whether you are emotionally invested or not I think you should be able to respect your partner enough to focus on them during sex. And, even if you don’t, consider your answer to the above question carefully, though any answer is likely to be wrong.

I should also add, if you ever find the urge to ask someone this question (or a variant of it), don’t. Even in the heat of a fight. No answer will make you feel good or win the argument. The very asking of means you’ve already lost.

*I should clarify that I’ve only really ever heard this used on television. A few sitcoms and daytime soap operas (when I watched them) would bring it out from time to time in order to add even more drama to a fight. I’ve never met anyone who has actually use it in an argument. But then, I also don’t have a lot of close friends that I talk about my sex life with. Except all of you, of course.

The New Definition of Lonely

If I stop trying, then I can really see how much he has given up. Talk about having no power. I feel like I’m crawling behind him, begging for scraps. If I stopped crawling, would he even notice me at all. I hang on his every word, hoping for something positive. A compliment, a smile. Most of the time he won’t even look me.
I’m just throwing myself a little pity party, but I don’t know what to do. I can’t hide my sexual frustration, especially after a week or so. And his lack of desire for me is having a much greater impact on my self-esteem than he realizes. But it’s more than that. It’s that he’s using this lack of sexual desire as an excuse to stop everything. We don’t talk, we don’t play games. We interact through the kids and that’s it.
I just feel like I’m a burden to him. Some sex-crazed manic that he has to deal with when he would rather be doing anything else. I know that deep down it’s not my fault, that I didn’t do anything to make his sexual desire wane. But my heart doesn’t feel that way.
This is worse than a year ago when he decided he didn’t want to do 24/7 D/s anymore. The kids and I are some horrible burden of responsibility that he would love to abandon for something more fun. Working hard and earning a living for our family is a waste of his time. Yet I go my low-paying job every day so we can have insurance.
I think this is probably just a backlash to the week. Feeling like I have no power in the country I live in. Worried about our future as a nation and the safety of friends and family. The joy of getting to see my brother yesterday, only to be crushed by how much he has changed. His face looking at me in confusion and pain; like how did I let this happen. It was all I could do not to cry in front of him. But how could I possibly add my pain to what he has already suffered.
I want to be angry. Angry about all of it, but right now I am just sad. I will wear my safety pin until I am strong enough to take more action. And I have to get that strength from myself.
This is going to involve a serious wedgie from hiking up my big girl panties and a large amount of coffee.

Some Air

Sir and I finally got some air. Things have been tight financially as we’ve gotten closer to the official move and through some finagling and some luck we got a breather yesterday. It’s not a lot, but it is just enough at the right time.

When he came home from work last night he seemed lighter. Both of our good moods seeped through the house. The kids were cute and nondestructive (mostly). We even packed several boxes and loaded my car for drop-off.

I was almost surprised when, after the kids went to bed, he ordered me to kneel and shoved his cock in my face. Not complaining, it had just been so long since that has happened that I wasn’t prepared. It was nice. Not a big scene or anything, we’re easing back in. Getting back to regular sex is a good first step. Whips and chains are easy to add as we go (easy for me anyway).

Sometimes you just need that one positive thing to make everything more manageable. Your brain is so overwhelmed and depressed, but one piece of good news and remind you that you can get passed it. Whatever it is may not magically fix everything, but it crosses one thing off the list. When that list has done nothing but grow, it’s amazing how much lighter it can make you feel. Both Sir and I last night had some air and some breathing room. Sir even came twice. He hasn’t been relaxed enough to do that in months.

I am heading to the house today to stain floors and finishing painting the upstairs. I’ve been really happy at all the work I have been able to do either by myself or with dad’s help. I think it will be great to be able to say that we did all the work in renovating the upstairs. Since we are looking to move at the end of the month I will probably need to spend the weekend there to get the floors finished, but they do look nice so far. And some of the stress relief from today is going to help us finish up some of the projects downstairs too.

It’s so nice to finally feel like we are getting there. Though it does reinforce how ready we are to be out of this rental. Hoping to use the motivation to pack more boxes the next few days. The boys are going to think it’s Christmas in July when we unpack all these toys we have had boxed up the last few months. Maybe we won’t have to buy anything for their birthdays this year. Knowing my kids I doubt it.

All the Wrong Reasons

I really want to experience a threesome. Sex with multiple people at the same time seems like such an interesting, possibly overwhelming moment in time. To be able to be myself with two people (I would love to be a part of a MMF or a MFF threesome). The idea of it generally turns me on, and then I start to fantasize about a person to play with along with Sir, or a couple to play with without him. All the hands, lips, and sweat. I have had several fantasies, even written about one specific one I’ve had several times.

But here’s the thing, the really terrible thing:

I think the reasons I want a threesome are all awful. The idea of being the center of attention. But that’s not right, it’s supposed to be about pleasing others. And it’s not like I don’t want to. I’m usually really over emotional. I fall in love too fast and I take everything very personally. But the idea of sex with two people turns me into this selfish slut. I want their hands all over me. I want to reach out and touch, suckle, and stroke into flesh and not know who it belongs to. I want to make them moan, but only for my own selfish vanity of knowing that I could. That I was sexy enough to arouse two people at the same time.

Up until recently I had some very closed-minded views regarding sex. I really wanted an emotional connection with the person I was sleeping with. I wanted to be in love. And the idea of being in love with two people always seemed impossible to me, so sleeping with two people was immediately off the table. I expect a focus on me from my partner emotionally, so physically it just made sense. But the last few years have changed that. I still want the focus, but the mindset of what sex is and what it can be have be altered drastically.

Sex can be about a moment. It can be about sharing an experience with a person or people and just enjoying that time together. It’s not about a fairy tale ending where you are best friends forever or marriages are planned. Creating memories of people and sharing that sexuality in those moments can be just as amazing. And it’s not like you sleep with someone you hate. Even those I have fantasies about I talk with and flirt with. I have a connection with them, I would have a stronger one before I slept with them, but that doesn’t mean that I love them. Or that I want to love them. I want to enjoy the friendship I have created by sharing my sexuality with them. I think that is a nice thing, though I am afraid it sounds bad.

I want to kiss someone while someone else licks my pussy. I want to try a spit roast. I want to make a man watch while I make his wife scream. But I want it for me. I want to share myself with Sir and others because I think it I have something to give.

And here’s the other really terrible thing: that’s ok. That threesome, when I ever get it, if I ever it, will be about me. I will enjoy it for how it makes me feel. How that experience will change my sexual outlook forever. And the fact that that is thrilling and not scary to me just proves to me how far I’ve come. That me admitting a selfish thought doesn’t immediately make me feel guilty. And I hope that the others who take part in that threesome do it for themselves too. Sharing parts of ourselves for others to enjoy create a moment that benefits everyone.

So maybe I want it for the wrong reasons. Maybe Sir won’t want to share me with another if he doesn’t think it’s about him enjoying two women. Maybe the couple I fantasize about will be turned off when they read this. And while that would suck, at least I’m being honest about my feelings and desires. Sharing myself and experiencing two people’s sexual energy at the same time is a moment that I hope is in future. In a round about way it does come back to love. I love myself enough to not judge my own desires. And what those desires could become could be amazing memories,….fucking hot ones.
Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Fun in the Filth

I am anything but a clean freak. I have two small children, if I was concerned about dirt I would have broken a long time ago. But dirt and filth are not at all the same thing. Dirt and the house mess is just ground up cheerios and applesauce dried into the carpet. Filth, filth is beautiful.

To me, filth is that wonderful mixture of bodily fluids that you get covered in after an amazing round of sex. Semen, sweat, spit, and lube. Any combination creates a sticky mess that makes the room and everything in it smell of sex. After our scenes, even after I had been to the bathroom and washed up, I loved to come back to our room and just smell the lingering aroma of the evening. The fragrance practically calms me all by itself. Add the occasional smells of blood or piss and the feeling only deepens.

Normally anything that is describes as gooey is not for me. I’m a mom, I deal with it. I clean it up. But I don’t enjoy it. Sex goo is different. It’s filthy in an, “I’m a dirty girl” sort of way. It makes me feel accomplished. That state of filth is proof of the connection that Sir and I have. Before D/s  I would get up quickly after sex. Getting ‘clean’ was a priority. It was merely a product that needed to be cleaned and ignored. Now I appreciate what the filth/goo represents.

Even without D/s, or whatever our BDSM relationship turns into, I’m not going to go back to being ashamed of the various fluids of sex. They are something to be enjoyed and celebrated. I’ve found that often semen gets a lot of press. It’s pretty across some skinny girls tits or covering her face. Not that I’m arguing the validity of that. But I find the mix of everything so much more arousing. What he pulls out of me. What he inspires in me just as much as what I inspire in him. It’s filthy and it’s fun and it’s everything that makes me calm and happy. That aftercare blanket does get washed now and then, but it does have a wonderful smell of everything we are.

I think the word filth equates to something wrong for most people. They don’t want to be ‘dirty’ or seen that way. And, if I’m honest, going more than a day without a shower doesn’t make me feel great. But there are sometimes, when laying in bed, covered in sweat and sex feels so good. Changing the sheets can wait. Sometimes you just need to enjoy the filth.

Ignorance is bliss

You know those silent tears. The ones that can just flow while you look out the window as you drive along. You almost forget they are there, until one drips off your chin and onto your shirt. That is how I rode home yesterday. Quiet reflection and tears.

Just trying to balance all the good things that came out of this weekend. I got a raise. Still only working part time, but now my pay can at least cover the boys daycare. That was always a big problem for me, so I feel a little less guilty for wanting to work now that it isn’t a net loss for Sir’s bank account. Things are also moving slowly forward on the housing front. Seeing a few more properties today, and the front runner that mom and I liked dropped their price on Friday. So if Sir likes it today we may be putting in an offer. It is moving a lot faster than I thought, but that isn’t a bad thing. There aren’t a lot of houses with the good bones that we are looking for, but the ones we do find are great.

Anyway, a lot of good. Maybe I am just overwhelmed by the speed of it all. Wow, get over yourself, Rye. I swear I whine about things when they are bad, and then again when they are good. No wonder Sir beats me. Sigh.

The real reason I was crying because Sir and I were again bringing up the conversation about playing with others. And my confusion regarding this topic continues. I know that he wants other partners. Maybe just as pain toys, maybe as sexual partners. But last night he also explained that as he is a sadist, even the act of impact play can be highly erotic, if not completely sexual.

Such a obvious statement, and yet it was as if I hadn’t really thought about it before. Of course impact play would be sexual for him. As it would be for the true masochist he was playing with. It may not be penis in vagina, no one even needs to cum, but it would be sex all the same.

I thought I had processed everything. I was fine with him playing with someone else, as long as there wasn’t any sex. At least not yet. He could go to play parties without me and find friends and other play partners. They could scene and it would all be fine. My insecurities were abated by the idea that he wouldn’t have sex with them. Like that was going to keep him from leaving me. They couldn’t have that ultimate connection, so I was safe. I am a naive idiot, I know.

So more processing I guess. I need to work on the idea that he is just going to pack up and leave me after meeting the perfect masochist that can fulfill all of his sadist desires. That is easier said than done. And if he plays with others, should I also consider it so I don’t feel resentful at his extra play. We don’t really play enough for me as it is, imagine if he started adding someone else to his calendar. Ugh.

It is too early to think this hard about this stuff. My coffee hasn’t even kicked in yet.

Damn Near Tantric

I really want to tell you about last night. We had amazing sex. My clit and the Doxy are becoming fast friends. It was simple and hot and when we were done we just laid on his bed in a puddle of satisfied goo.

But my brain is fried this morning. The baby was up last night and very early this morning. I was am a groggy, grumpy mess. After several failed attempts to get him to calm down this morning, I put him on the floor and curled back up on my bed. He followed me onto my pallet and for a split second I thought he would lay down with me. Silly silly slave mom.

So coffee is flowing slowly and I need to preserve as much energy as possible as the four year old has his annual check-up this afternoon and there will be shots. So screaming and cuddles will take up most of my afternoon.

So I’ll leave you with the happy knowledge that we did have amazing, near tantric sex last night. And hopefully I will be able to remember it often as I fade throughout the day.