Once Upon a Time...

Something about my tea boy leaves me without words. Like I can't tell you the story just quite yet because I don't know how it ends. Which is ironic, since he and I are all words. He tells me he fell in love with my words first (since our first meeting was a prolonged back and forth through email and then IM) and then with the physical me when we met face to face. But I've forbid him to use the L word, for now, so he hedges around it and makes up all kinds of ways to tell me he loves me just the same. Puppy love. Infatuation. Rutabaga.

And, since we aren't in love, we certainly aren't a couple just yet. Nor are we partners, or boyfriend and girlfriend, or even dating. I've committed to "getting to know each other." We're getting to know each other. But that's about as far as I can go.

And, by way of getting to know each other, we decided we need a certain amount of face time to offset the virtual time. So we spent last weekend together. And you know what? It was really nice. Not crazy bacchanalian fuck fest nice. Just really rutabaga nice. I woke up Saturday morning all the way scrunched over on my side of the bed, almost falling off, with him all hot and sleepy and snugged up against me. I had to butt shove him back to his side so I wouldn't fall out of bed, but not before I made note that he's the first person in a long while to reach for me even in his sleep.

It turns out he fucks not unlike me: sort of bitey and thrashy and switchy. He knows what to do with me when I go all limp and subby, and yet without so much as a word we can switch places; me pinning him beneath my weight, grabbing his balls and biting into the thin skin above his collar bone while his eyes roll back in his head and a beatific smile spreads across his face. He instinctively grabs my wrist when I rest my hand in his, and yet he follows my lead when I grip his hair and guide his mouth to my breast. And when all is said and done we fall asleep in a puddle of sweat and a knot of limbs where it is hard to say exactly where one of us begins and the other ends.

And speaking of knots, he's gonna be one fine roper one of these days. I don't know if he is just so darn eager to please me or if he truly is a natural (I think maybe a little of both) but he picked up that 30 feet of nylon and started tying and wrapping and looping like he knew instinctively what to do with it. He was like a brainy kid with a Rubik Cube, turning and tightening and twisting until the thing magically fell into place. As we watched a video (Alfred Hitchcock's Rope, appropriately enough) he absent mindedly fiddled with the lengths of cord until I looked down and found my feet bound together in these funky stirrup kinda things. Then he stood up, smiled at me devilishly and went out on the porch to have a cigarette leaving me to hop about the house dragging 28 feet of rope behind me or figure out how to get the things undone myself so I could go out and join him for a smoke.

And if that wasn't enough I knew we would get along just fine when he emailed me this after our first night together:

"The little ache when I walk is a pleasant reminder in a twisted way, though. As were a couple of bruises I found when showering."

The funny thing was that I had found bruises in exactly the same spots on myself that very morning and wrote him an almost identical email.

So, as I said, I have no idea how the story will end. But with any luck there will be lots of chapters and a happy ending one way or another.

Just Checking In

For those of you who are curious about Pussy here are a few updates:

Diva is still alive and hopping. That Metacam stuff seems to be doing the trick for now. Her appetite is good, she walks on all three legs, and her spirits are still high (if a little drowsy at times). I still don't know if we're talking days, weeks, or months, but I guess I never did before either (I just thought I did). There's a lesson here somewhere. But I'm too busy snuggling my dog right now to think about it.

Tea Boy did indeed come over and stay the night with me. We had sex and it was fun. Maybe even more fun than I expected it to be. I had told him up front that I'm a kinky sub with some switch potential in the right situations. And even though he isn't kinky per se he seemed fairly familiar with the terminology and concepts. He explained that it's a geek thing somehow, which I had never known. But now that I think about it there are a lot of gamer types on bondage.com.

At this point I should say I'm still trying to figure out what I feel comfortable saying here about this tea boy. I'm still struggling with that. My thoughts are all muttled. I want to respect his privacy. I don't want to say anything that would hurt him in any way should he ever read my blog. And I don't want jeopardize Papi's anonymity either. And since tea boy knows of Papi if he were to read my blog he would probably be able to put two and two together. At the same time I love having this place where I can share my life and my discoveries about myself and the world. Where I can write freely and get feedback from others about my thoughts, my experiences and my words. Plus, well, I just miss you all. I miss the support, the flirting, the insight, the affirmation and acceptance that I get here and I'm not ready to give that up.

HNT #7: Butterfly Kisses

I felt silly despite the fact that no one could see me. Even Papi was hundreds of miles away. But I still jumped at his voice growling "work it out" into my ear when I complained that putting the clothespin directly onto my nipple would hurt too much. So I did as I was told until I looked like a funny kind of porcupine with pink and blue plastic clothespins for quills. I made a mental note that the next time I was in China Town I would think twice before buying the cheaper bag of clothespins.

I had pins on both nipples and surrounding my areolas. Then a few on the outsides of my tummy just above my pubic bone. And finally two on either side of my vulva and one at the top of my clit on the edge of my Venus Mound. That last one pinched like anything and I howled and cried but he wouldn't let me take it off. He told me to focus on breathing deep. I did so and after what seemed like a very long time I got to the place where the pain was acceptable, even welcome.

Then he told me I could touch myself. Honestly, I really didn't want to. But I knew he wouldn't let me take them off until I had cum for him. So I tried to reach my clit but each time I did my arm would bump some goddamned clip and I would flinch away. I asked him if it would be alright if I used Wanda figuring at least with her I could avoid bumping clips. Thankfully he let me and it wasn't long before I came for him quite loudly.

After all was said and done I was allowed to take the pins off one by one. Oddly enough the ones that hurt the least going on hurt the most coming off. The ones on my nipples left these tiny little dents that looked like someone put butterfly bandaids on my tits.

Cautious

This thing with tea boy is unlike anything I've experienced. And I don't know why I call him tea boy. He doesn't drink tea. I do. He drinks beer or diet coke or coffee. But I haven't wanted to say much about him or give him a "real" blog name because, well, I'm just being cautious. But this is a good cautious.

As you have probably figured out I'm not known for being a tease. I have no problem sleeping with someone on the first or second date. If I like them. But I've been consciously holding out with this guy. Getting to know him. Trying to decide if he's the person I think he is. Or, more accurately, if I like who he really is and not just who I think he is. And so far I have to say I do. He's sweet and thoughtful and gentle and smart and geeky. And he's silly and considerate and tells me repeatedly just exactly how fond he is of me. And that he wants me.

So I invited him to come to my house and have me. Tomorrow. And even though I'm crazy horny I must say I'm mostly just really looking forward to falling asleep in his arms. And waking up next to him.

A Minute at a Time

Thanks all for your sweet comments and support. They have really meant a lot to me during this difficult time. Diva dog is still by my side (quite literally at the moment). Things were looking grim there but right now we have a brief respite from the storm. Friday evening we drove along the beach. She lifted her head a bit from the back seat and sniffed the salty the air. Just the night before she had stood up to see the beach. And a mere week before she had jumped from front seat to back repeatedly while emitting her characteristic high pitched aren't-you-gonna-stop-the-car-NOW shriek.

I told her (yes, of course I talk to my dog) that if she could show me she was able to enjoy the beach I would know she wanted to stay around, but if she couldn't even frolic just a tad I would know she was ready to leave this place. I lifted her out of the back seat, not an entirely easy feat since she is not the smallest of dogs, and set her down on the grass. She toppled over. I helped her stand up again and then she skipped on two legs over to a shrub and tried to pee. She's only got three legs to begin with and now she was lifting her rear leg off the ground to avoid putting any weight on her cancerated hip. I had to support her hind quarters in order to keep her from falling into her urine. But we managed and then she skipped along quite fast (I had to jog to keep up with her) to a new spot where we repeated the ritual for a poo. You can bet the people jogging by thought I had one pitiful canine. I brought out a padded fleece and we sat in the grass for a bit watching the waves and shivering in the cold. She was exhausted and seemed defeated and I knew I would have to say good bye very soon.

But not at soon as I thought. Because that night I gave her a new pain medication, one that was supposed to help with any inflammation and therefore might help her walk. A tiny bit of my heart held out for the magic drug but I was still on the phone making the arrangements with the vets in the morning. But I'll be damned if that drug didn't work a small miracle. By morning she was walking on three legs again, albeit somewhat gingerly. Her eyes lit up again and lost their sunken, hopeless haze. She even frisked about the back seat as we drove down to the beach for a test drive before calling the vet to cancel our last visit.

So, as I said, she's by my side and we are taking it one day at a time. Actually, more like an hour at a time, a minute at a time. I trust she will let me know when she is ready to go and I will rub her belly one last time and kiss her sweet dog lips and say goodbye. But I'm cherishing every single second we have together until that moment arrives.

HNT #6

For the past eleven years only one being has been by my side loving me unconditionally, always forgiving my shortcomings, and adoring me whole heartedly. My dog.

The past few months she slowed down a bit. But this morning she fell out of bed. Then all day long she kept falling and tripping and moaning, looking at her backside questioningly, like she sometimes does when she farts and then tries to figure out what invisible thing just ran past her butt. By the time the emergency vet saw her she had collapsed on the floor. Her head in my lap she looked up at me with her big, brown, loving eyes imploring me to help her. It turns out the cancer we thought we had "gotten" has come back. And this time there isn't anything we can do. Except wait for the inevitable. And love each other desperately every minute we have left.

Happy Valentine's Day Lovies!

So tea boy went and got an HIV/AIDS test today. Is that not the sweetest Valentine's Day present ever? Still no nookie though. I've been holding fast to that three date rule. But tonight is our fourth. So who knows...

Email Whore

It isn't right that I should go for so long without getting fucked. It just isn't right.

I'm still taking things slow with this tea boy. I dunno. His words on the screen make me adore him, but then face to face he's still just a stranger. Silly me. Maybe I'm just an email whore.

Rules were meant to be broken, right?

Just dropping in to say. I'm off to go have dinner with tea boy. I'm wearing my favorite thong undies even though I've told him I'm sticking to my no sex until the third date rule.

By the way, I finally succumbed and ordered myself some Monk rope. I couldn't resist this month's special color: dirty pink! It came today and I'm sooo crossing my fingers that I get to find out just how fabulous it is very soon! Ooh, I even stopped at the library and got myself some books on knot tying. Best to be prepared you know!

HNT #6

This one's kind of cheating since I took it last week and it is rather similar to the one I posted last week. But I'm just so very sleepy I really must get some sleep. I have a second date tomorrow night with the tea boy and I don't want to loose my umph you know?!

Puppy Love*

OK. This tea guy rapidly turned into a full blown crush on both sides. The internet just works that way for those of us who are wooed by words and ideas. We've only met in person once for a scant two hours and it wasn't any crazy love at first site kinda thing for me. But you know, those love at first site things never worked out so well so why continue to believe they're a good thing? So I'm saying let's just take this slow - my god that is a challenge for me - and see where this takes us. If we play our cards right at the very least we'll each make a new friend.

So the deal on the kinky is he says he's never really had nary a kinky thought. Mm. Yeah. I didn't buy it either. Then he says he'll try anything once. Which I believe were my famous last words. So then I ask him if he were to try something kinky what would it be and he says he might be interested in taking a class at [insert name of local sex club which he obviously was aware of here] on working with hemp rope. At this point in the conversation my eyes turn into those big googly spiral eyes in the cartoon when the girl is struck by love. But we're on the phone and thankfully he can't see my goofy grin. So I just calmly say "nice" in a very nonchalant way and we move on. He proceeds to tell me he's up for giving ropes a try - he'll tie me up or I can tie him - and I make a mental note to self to work on tutoring that inner switch a bit more.

The interesting thing is that I have to confess a pattern I've now seen as a pattern and not just a random collection of coincidentally similar occurrences. The more someone likes me the more stand offish I get. This guy likes me. He has told me so. Quite honestly and openly. And each time he does so I feel my feet inch backwards towards the exit ready to bolt. Actually, it is more my brain. I start thinking disparaging thoughts that I'm sure are meant to protect myself from getting hurt but really serve to just, well, almost ensure it.

Oh, by the way. I told him about Papi last night. So today we get to see how that one goes over. Ooh, and on the Papi note, I have a visit coming up and I am very much looking forward to it! Perhaps he'll grant me the birthday spanking I requested.

* Yes, the tea guy actually used the phrase puppy love. It's quite apt.

Nice to meet you. By the way, I'm kinky.

So, I mentioned that I had tea with one of the few worthwhile responses to my ad, right? We've been having a lovely email exchange. The kind that is fun and exciting and sweet, that makes you a little giddy when you see something in your in box... and makes you anxious when you don't. Last night I told him that I wanted to have a baby - soon - and that went fine. Then this morning I told him that I'm kinky and now I haven't heard a peep. It's probably just nothing. He probably works when he's at work (unlike me). But I hate the suspense.

It's so hard to know when to tell people these things. If I put it in the actual ad I get all these creepy responses. Or guys who think just because they're doms that's enough. But then when I don't specify in the ad the stress of knowing when and how to tell them is just so, er, stressful. Oh well. I guess we'll just wait and see.

Are u fat?

I've had insomnia lately. And often when I have insomnia I end up writing a personal ad on Craigslist just so I can get some email. I'm not one of those mean teases though who never writes back though. I do write back if there is a nugget of appeal in the response. Anyway, here's what my last one said:

HWP? Who gives a flying f*ck?! - 40

I may be HWP. I may not. But the guy for me doesn't really give a rat's ass.

What he does care about is that I'm creative and adventurous in all things; laid back and easy to talk to; would rather read a book than watch crap on the boob tube (unless I'm watching it snuggled up in the arms of someone who enjoys said crap); enjoy food, both the cooking of it and the sharing of it; am passionate and loyal, once I trust you; enjoy being in my body; I'm not afraid to make the first move, but will appreciate it if you do, even I don't follow your lead; I follow my own moral compass; find beauty in all things, all people, and all bodies.

One thing though, I abhor lazy writers. Sure, it's just a silly Craigslist personal. But please, use your Webster's and your Strunk and White if in doubt. I don't mind a little e. e. cummings like creativity but I won't respond to "are u fat?" or "pic 4 pic" and the like.

Of course I got lots of replies. Anyone can post an ad under women seeking men and just say "hello" and get oodles of replies. Here are some of the ones that made me wince and hit delete:

"Hi my name is jerry and i realy would like to meet you. wana go for a cup of coffie or something........jerry"

"Are u fat?"

"What man would want to be with a fat cunt like you?"

"Male 52 6 foot, 225 would love to meet you. Professional and unhappily married."

And I wonder why I'm depressed about the whole dating scene?!

There were a few thoughtful replies though. And I had tea with one of them today!

HNT #5: Two Buttons

Word of the Day

I've missed you all, but I haven't had anything to say. So rather than come here and blather on I stayed away. But today, on a hunch, I looked up Webster's word of the day and once again it was like someone was reading my palm.

abulia • \ay-BOO-lee-uh\ • noun : abnormal lack of ability to act or to make decisions

I must have a prodigious quantity of mind," Mark Twain once wrote. "It takes me as much as a week, sometimes, to make it up." The indecision Twain laments is fairly common; only when inability to make decisions reaches an abnormal level does it have an uncommon name: "abulia." The English term we use today comes from a New Latin word that combines the prefix "a-," meaning "without," with the Greek word "boulē," meaning "will." "Abulia" can refer to the kind of generalized indecision that makes it impossible to choose what flavor ice cream you want, though it was created to name a severe medical disorder that can render a person nearly inert.

At times I'm somewhere between the slack-jawed lady staring at all of Baskin Robbins 31 flavors (I swear it looks like more!) and "nearly inert." I just never knew there was a name for it except indecisive.