Category Archives: whining

This is my life: chiarascuro

We’re running around the house lighting candles so we can see. We’re a team. I know where the candles are and which ones will create the most light. He has the lighter. In the dark, we create enough light to see by. At least enough so we’re not bumping into the furniture. It’s enough. We don’t need the television or the internet to entertain ourselves. We have cuffs and rope and our own bodies. The way our bodies fit together is magic. It shouldn’t work, but somehow it does. It’s beautiful and transcendent like it almost always is. The thundering storm outside stopped at some point. When I come back to this world and my bed, I can’t hear it any more. The lights are still off. I leave him cuffed and tied to the bed and snuggle up between his cuffed arms. Then we think it best to eat the ice cream in the freezer before it’s just cream.

We have a whole weekend together. Somewhat of a rarity. I didn’t know it was going to work out this way, and have already made plans for Saturday evening. A few hours with the Wild Thing and some of his friends. He says it’s fine but behaves opposite. He’s sullen. Withdrawn. Pouting around me but coolly polite to the Wild Thing and his friends. He doesn’t want to be here. He could have stayed home but didn’t. He doesn’t want me to be here. I appreciate spending time with him. Sorta. I would appreciate it more if he weren’t so sullen. The sullenness continues all weekend. The bed is occupied with bodies. Bodies that should fit together like magic. But they aren’t. He doesn’t want to hold me. I don’t want to hold him. We are occupying space but not being together.

It’s difficult when being with one is so simple and freeing and being with the other is so fraught and difficult… but I truly want to be with both of them. I feel myself disconnecting again. And only one of them is allowing me to connect to him and to the rest of the universe through him.

This is my life: I can’t get no satisfaction

“I would like to be able to have sex with the Wild Thing.”

… silence …

This rant is brought to you by my (lack of) sex life. For someone with two men who are submitting to me, you’d think I’d have more sex. I would certainly like to have more sex. Lots more sex. Unfortunately, it never quite seems to work out that way. I might get to have sex once or twice a month. That’s really not my ideal. I love cock. I prefer sex a few times a week. But despite owning two men with perfectly good penises (penii?), I just can’t get some. Why? Well I’ll tell you.

One of the men, the Husband, is currently working about 9 hours away from me. I see him for 3-6 days every month. I own his penis. I can use it whenever I want to. Except that most days, if I want to use it, I’d have 18 hours of driving for some cock. And when he’s here, we can’t always get on the same page about getting our groove on. He doesn’t like having sex when I’m on my period. So if he’s here when I’m all bleeding, I can’t have sex with him. And sometimes he’s just not in the mood. I could technically just tell him to get it up and then jump on him. But that’s not really appealing to me. I don’t like having to force someone to get it on with me. That makes me feel gross & undesirable, not to mention a little rapey.

I do have ready access to the penis attached to the Wild Thing. I see him for at least a few days every week. And if he isn’t in my actual presence, he’s only a phone call away. I own his dick. It is mere minutes away at all times. And he’s certainly willing whenever I want to interact with him sexually. I can use it whenever I want to right? Wrong. I have to ask permission from my submissive property, the Husband, in order to be able to have sex with my submissive boyfriend. Let me just say that again, because it feels all kinds of wrong to me.

I, as the dominant and owner, must ask permission of my submissive property in order to be able to fuck my boyfriend.

I feel like I’m eating shards of glass every time I have to get his permission to do something that (to my mind) should be a normal and natural occurrence between people who are dating.

I feel like an an asshole asking the Wild Thing to wait for a third party’s whim to decide when he can have sex.

I feel like the submissive partner in my own sex life.

I do not feel empowered as a dominant or a sexual being.

I do not feel I’m having enough sex.

But there are no easy answers. The Husband can’t accept my having sex whenever I want to. So he is still in control of my sex life. I hate it. But I hate it less than I hate the idea of being without the Husband. So I eat my broken glass. I bleed my words & my independence out of my mouth. And I am eternally thankful that the Wild Thing is so easygoing.

Musings: the Simple Life

I am generally good at following my dreams and being happy. In my humble opinion, those are some very good things to be good at. It’s led me to where I am now, which is a pretty good life! I have (a few) people who care a lot about me. And that’s always been plenty. I have a roof over my head and food on my plate. I have always done things that I enjoy, so I love my work. But…

Lately I have had these unexpected and unusual feelings. I find that I want a larger (by a few people, not a crowd) circle of close friends. I want people in my life I can be myself around. Talk to about minutiae and the weather and deep philosophical theories. Complain to about the minutiae and the weather and my deep philosophical theories. People who can accept me with all my flaws and shortcomings. Flawed people I can accept and want to spend my time with. For the first time in my life, I feel lonely. My circle of friends has slowly shrunk. So I’ve been trying to fix that issue by reaching out. You never know what person will turn out to be a fantastic friend.

I have all the things I need. I don’t have to sleep on the ground outside in the rain. I don’t have to worry about my food or water making me ill. Or if there will even be any. I live a very comfortable life. For now. But I am finally feeling my age. I am finally starting to consider a time when I won’t be able to provide for myself any more. It’s a bit frightening. I certainly have no faith that the government will be able to help with that. I also don’t have any children who might help support me. I can see a time in the future where I might not be able to work. Or even just a time when I’m tired and don’t want to work any more no matter how much I might enjoy what I’m doing. So I’m trying to learn about retirement planning. It’s slow going. But if I don’t start now, I might end up never starting. Then when I want (or need) to retire, I won’t be able to.

I’m already feeling that the physicality of my work taking a toll. Yet it is daunting to think of starting a fourth career. Especially at this age.

Partially, I think that surrounding myself with younger people is now affecting me differently than it usually has. Usually I find it energizing and fun and I don’t feel any different than them. But recently that has changed. I feel… different. I feel that I am in a very different stage of life even though I am looking at going back to school. I may read the same books, listen to the same music, wear the same clothes… but I’m not the same.

I see their passion and I think I’ve lost mine. It’s been a while since I felt the excitement and passion I see in people just starting out on their life path. I remember it. But I don’t have it in my life right now. I haven’t for several years. I used to be where they are. I have been there three times. I suppose it adds up. Now when I have an interest in things, I look at them with an eye to the future. I realize that something I might find all-consuming now, I might be disinterested in 10 years down the line. It isn’t that I envy their passion. I just miss it.

I also feel very keenly that while they have all the time in the world to study and learn things and perfect their art/craft/profession… if I were to find something I could feel that unbridled passion for, I don’t have that kind of time. I no longer have all the time in the world. For the first time in my life, I feel the passage of time. I feel my own mortality. I feel my body slowly betraying me by slowing down when I want to run. I feel that there are things that I might want to do, places that I would like to see… that I won’t have time for.

I don’t regret the life I have lived so far. I have done things I loved. I’ve loved passionately. I’ve lived happily. But for the first time, I feel like I want… something different. I want to do something different. And I fear I won’t have all the time in the world to explore whatever that turns out to be.

Musings on befriendings

Somewhere along the line, I seem to have lost my ability to play well with others. I don’t socialize well. I used to. I remember a time when I didn’t feel awkward talking to people. I remember being better at small talk and discussing the weather. I could create a topic out of thin air if I needed to. I could talk to most people most of the time.

Now I can barely talk to anyone about anything. I don’t know when I lost my social skills. But I did. I can barely tolerate small talk. I find it strained and awkward and I’m sure it shows. Maybe it’s because I find it so tedious and taxing that I can’t do it any more. Perhaps what I really lost is my ability to fake it. But the net result of whatever I’m lost along the way is that I almost never make new friends.

I can’t remember making more than one new friend in the last 5 years. I have made a few acquaintances. Other than that, I feel sometimes like I’m in a barren wasteland. Or I feel like I’ve become so boring (or… unlikable… but I try not to go down that path) that I simply have nothing to talk about any more. And that without things to discuss in order to establish some commonalities, it’s even harder to forge friendships.

The Husband and I discussed it over the weekend. I used to have work, school, and hobbies. The people at work may or may not have had much in common with me, but often they did because I tend to choose work that I enjoy over work that is simply a paycheck. This tends to self-select for other people who do the same thing. That means that we will likely have a few things in common. Thus, a pool of potential friends. The same could be said for school and hobbies. Both are highly likely to be pools for potential friends because we’re studying the same things, going through the same things, or passionate about the same things we’re choosing to do in our free time. And, of course, there are usually plenty of people at the same rough stage in life.

Now, I am not in school. I don’t have any hobbies. I just work. I’ve cut my pool by two thirds.

In addition to that, I have little in common with other people in my age group. We usually have different experiences and priorities since I chose not to have children. I can’t relate to their stories of annoying teens, potty training woes, or being a grandparent. I don’t have a corporate job, so I have nothing in common there either. Nor can I really talk about the current life experiences of people in school for the first time. I can talk about my past experience with school. But it bears little resemblance to the experiences of being in school today. It’s simply been so long that it has changed too much. Then, of course, there’s the kink.

Being kinky is certainly not enough to guarantee we could be friends. But if I befriend a vanilla person, I will either have to hide my kinky side from them. (And did I mention it’s the only notable activity in my life right now?) Or I will have to come out to them and hope they don’t look at me like I’ve suddenly turned into a monster.

So basically, what I’m saying is that I think I might have missed my window of opportunity for easy friend-making. If I want to make friends from now on, I suspect that I’m going to have to put some Herculean effort into it.