Your Mom Has Sex.

I've mentioned this before, dear readers, but you may not remember, me stating how I want to be a sexual therapist. Therefore, I have to be very comfortable with the topic. I have to understand that everyone has it. Including...

my parents.

I remember one time my parents did something as simple as kiss in front of me, and it creeped me out cuz I could see my mom's tongue slipping past my dad's lips. It was a very sensual kiss, and in anyone else I might've found it erotic. But that's precisely it. You don't want to think of your parents as doing something erotic. Those are two worlds that are meant to be kept apart. Unless of course your name is Oedipus.

I also heard them have sex once. And another time I momentarily saw them having sex. In the jacuzzi outside.

Traumatizing material, let me tell you.

But then, don't you get to a point where you simply can be neutral about it? You know, just...not give a fuck? Come to terms with the fact that it's probably a good thing your parents have a healthy love life? Maybe I can just stop being disgusted by it. I think that alone would be a huge achievement.

Solitary Refinement

I'm a 22 year old college student from California. I live with my parents who know next to nothing about my real personality. I can say the same for the rest of the people in my life to an extent and that's because I'm very secretive and/or sensitive to criticisms. When it comes to revealing significant things about myself, I normally brush off the situation with dry humor or outrageous jokes just to get the attention off me. It usually takes several years (and this is not an exaggeration) to get to really know me because I'm very particular about those I choose to trust. I'm glad I found this blog because, as you probably assume, I have very little areas to vent in "real life".

When it comes to sex, I'm very open. Despite my shy demeanor, I can talk to anyone about sex. The basis of sexuality has always been a comfort zone for me. I'm not sure why this is. I can pin it to abnormalities from my past or I can just go with the simple fact that I love sex. Right now I'm in the throes of both wanting someone to care about and wanting to be alone. I've forgotten the luxury of meaningful sex (or any thing meaningful for that matter) that I wouldn't mind a little love no matter how delusional I may seem in retrospect.

Here's a glimpse of my personality. Feel special. Nobody sees it. I am a Siamese of selflessness and egocentricity, which makes me 100% ambivalent when it comes to making decisions. I don't know if this is because I have some sort of personality disorder or because I'm just being an ave. young adult in the midst of having to grow up. I don't normally care for most people around me, but when I do so I tend to love to an extreme so selfless that it becomes detrimental. Thus, I don't know if love should be avoided or if I'm just not learning how to balance self-love with whatever else is needed to feel for another human being.

What I do know is that I'm in love with writing. Ideally I want to be a writer. I can see myself writing novels, but I'm not sure how to get past my narcissism enough to develop fictional characters (hence my addiction to blogging). My affinity with literature is what makes me a lyrical person, as I'm more in tune with the words to songs rather than rhythm or beat. I connect to music so much that the content in songs will be worth more to me than any psychiatric consultation. Music is my therapy and somehow connecting to people via blog has become the same.


Feel free to email me at deadpandemonium@gmail.com.

I'm an Amateur Star

Yesterday I made a porno. The submissive dude turned on his laptop while we were laying on the couch, I hadn't noticed. I don't remember how fucking in front of the camera came about, but I do remember that I loved how I looked on screen and I looked even better with my clothes off. Despite my enormous ego, I was still nervous and not used to seeing myself (though I've had my fair share of mirror play).

What egged me on was how "impressive" he thought I was, which showed in his mannerisms. He would stare at the screen and say "goddamn" from time to time and would intently watch me in awe. I didn't feign any stimulation. Is that boring in comparison to the porn I see on a regular basis? It was a fun time nonetheless.

After he dropped me off, he told me all he wanted to do was jack off to our video. He said it would be his only source of porn from now on and that flattered the hell out of me. It turns out the wildest scenes weren't recorded and that made him sad. It's a good thing web cam film is as abundant as our sex drive.

Open Relationship? Really?

There is this girl I met in my complex when I first moved there. She is a sweet heart. Anytime I needed anything she was there to help. She often told me about how she was married and her husband lived out of state, but he would eventually move here. Well, she decided to move back to hometown because the place she was living at was drama filled. That lasted a couple months, then she and her husband moved back here.

He was a very nice guy, a little “too” friendly to me at first. As I got to know them I find out 1. He is generally a nice guy just like his wife and 2. They had an open relationship. That explain y he was basically emptied his wallet and gave me all he had. I was puzzled but I took the money any when his wife smiled and gave me the okay. A few weeks later he asked me to go get a manicure with him, I said sure, and it ended up just me getting a mani and pedi his treat. I realized he was trying to be my sugar daddy and brought up the subject. He then asked me on a date and I politely declined, due to him being married and all.

His wife comes up to me the next week asking why I won’t go on a date with her husband. I look at her as if she has completely lost it! She then tells me about their “Open Relationship”. They can date other people and have sex with them as long as the other knows about them, met them and when they are meeting. No secrets. All I can say is WTF!?!?!?

★☆ A La Belle Etoile ☆★

Domineering Monkey Sex

Just yesterday I had one of the best sexual encounters with a guy I didn't love or respect. We have such strong pent up anger for each other that the sex between us was otherworldly. I had no place to go, as my room was invaded by cable men that day so I came over to his house out of default. As usual, I was very cavalier and didn't want him even looking at me.

He knows me to be an aspiring nudist and that I'm not a fan of bras so for me to remove my undergarments is not an attempt to tease (though it secretly probably is) and just a way for me to get comfortable. As we are being rude to each other and pretending to watch tv, I nonchalantly remove some of my clothing. Now he can't stop staring at me and part of the reason is because he thinks I'm annoyed by the "harassment".

Inside I'm giddy as all hell because its my opportunity to tease and dominate. I tell him I don't want any and make fun of his engrossing member by talking shit and flicking it. I know his wit is weakened at this point and it isn't hard to tell by how he is trying to dominate me physically via fondling me "against my will". I let him do so because I know it will pique the temptation even more. Then I eventually make him stop.

He stares at me, especially when I'm saying mean things and continuing to touch in all the right places. Though I still won't let him touch me. It gets to a point where I can't take it (in a good way) and this is because I witness he is now behaving on point by positioning himself with out question. The submission part on his end is allowing me to crack and I have him take a seat so that I can finally start the "drive".

After a while of dominating, I lose grip and he takes control by forcing me on my back. The rest is as animalistic and primitive as you can imagine, as our initial hatred for one another is fused with such a passionate sense of...goddamn-you're-the-biggest-dirt-bag-I-know-but-I-can't-stop-fucking-you while we look into each others' eyes.

At this point we are a pair of bonobos, fucking for more than sport or pass time, but for sake of settling some unknown dispute that we both pin to the clashing of our personalities. Because sex with this person is always a competitive settlement, I never let him make me cum. Weirdly enough allowing someone to make me lose control even in a euphoric sense is a tough thing for me to do...especially for someone I don't respect.

I feel I've won when I hear him finish. I feel him jerk about and I smile. I have him in a volatile headlock, figuratively speaking, because he says he doesn't want to 'leave' and wants to continue in me and I know everything is in my power. I tell him no, push him off, and I'm glowing for hours.

Though the experience is close to meaningless, as I am not deeply attracted to this person, it does wonders for my self esteem as well as my once-in-a-blue-moon good mood. I like the concept of domination and the extreme degrees that hatred and desire have in common. I don't care if the lot of society associates casual sex with trashiness. I also could care less about what this person thinks of me when we are done, which in retrospect is the biggest appeal/deflation about the ordeal.

Abstinence.

There was the young boy who had only had sex 4 times before, and the boy who I loved who had sex many more times than 4. Somehow, the younger boy and I found ourselves a little easier in bed. However, with bachelor number two it was....more profound. More exciting. I was extremely nervous right before starting with him...The two runs though, had me exciting. With the both of them, lust had reached its peak...within a week apart. Hussy? A bit, maybe.

And now due to love itself, I find myself promising someone a year of abstinence. Possibly just 6 months, but possibly a year. I had never had any interest in promising abstinence to anyone. Au contraire, I wanted to find someone I could have sex with without feeling guilt. Someone that made me feel good and sexed without necessarily going into the complications of love. But no. Now somehow, without me expecting to find it, I find myself...caught in between the lines of love. And fine with it. And loving it. A year without sex. I think I'm alright with that.

What a wonderful opportunity to explore my own sexuality through other means.

~M. December

Blank Canvas

I usually try to stay away from sensitive guys, but because he is an artist, I figured I would give him a chance and attributed his sensitivity to his creative side. This is one leap I am glad I did.

Picasso was born in Spain and lived some of everywhere. He is funny, sweet, creative, well travelled, and a bit of a hippie, but I don’t hold it against him. He is slim build about 5’9 and compared to my 5’5 thick stature it was little odd to see us together. Long straight blonde hair just stopping a few inches below his shoulders dripping wet from the fresh shower. His strong jaw line barely hidden below his 5 o’clock shadow, that was starting to become a 7 or 8 o’clock one, compliments is beautiful wide eyes.

I just went over there to braid his hair, maybe it was the reggae he was playing or his relaxing demeanor, but when I finished his hair I didn’t even have the energy to eat the homemade soup I had brought. Spread across his bed I feel his smooth hands massage my shoulders, removing all the stress that had built up during the past month. I start to drift off to sleep when he whispers “I’m inspired, would u mind being my canvas?” I laugh thinking he is joking. He jumps up grabbing his markers and I smile. I have never been someone’s canvas let alone someone’s muse. He begins drawing on my back, I think one... I hope these aren’t permeant markers and two... how do I plan to explain to people when I get home that I am a walking art project! Even with those thoughts I let him continue on until he was no longer inspired or until he ran out of canvas. Once he was done painting, I was so stimulated. He walks to me to the mirror and I’m in awe of his work. Brushing my bangs out of my face, he kisses the tip of my nose, and i bury my face into his neck. I lay back on the bed, he kisses every inch of me. We both sit upright wrapped in each others arms. He pleasures me as I pleasure him. No penetration, just hand and hand.

I didn’t realize how satisfying foreplay can be. I never thought of it as a possible replacement nor that it could give me a more fulfilling orgasm than sex. Maybe it was the painting was our foreplay and the physical was our sex. All I know was that the next is going to have huge shoes to fill.

★☆ A La Belle Etoile ☆★

Words

Words fail.  I'm full to the brim of love, desire, want, need, frenzy, excite and bewilder.  But those are no longer adequate.  Her entity has surpassed my prolixity.  My intellect simply ceases and my spirit engulfs every functionality of what and who I am.  My blood flows in a rhythm I did not know existed.  It moves and it moves me.

To say that I did not want for this is false.  To say that I did not anticipate this is genuine.  To say that this is foreign to me is a gross understatement.  Yet, to define 'this' is, in fact, thus far, an indecipherable enigma. How can you travel this far in life and have a such a vital necessity concealed?  How can you travel this far in life and not know what your hands were meant to touch; what your eyes were meant to behold; what your tongue was meant to taste; what rhythm your heart was meant to emulate; what experiences you were meant to crave?

It happened.  I made it happen.  I let it happen.  I wanted for it to happen.  It happened and it is happening.  It is all around me.  It is inside of me.  It is me.  And it suffocates me and it breathes for me.  It mauls me and it repairs me.  And I relinquish all that I am and all that I will become.

~The Curious Wife

Eighteen.

He's my brother's age, and he's blonde, and has blue eyes.

Those are three factors that usually stray me AWAY from someone. He's taller than I am...that's really hot. He plays the banjo and has these amazing sexy shade of blue eyes. And his haircut is all gorgeous and tussled.

And apparently, the kid's got a huge motherfucking dick.

I'm 8 years older than he is. He's only had sex three times his entire life, in wonderful contrast to my 20. He has excellent long banjo-playing fingers that play my banjo like a charm, and a mouth that says the most adorable things in the world, makes me laugh, and also eats out like a pro.

The kid is a good lay (despite some initial trouble downsouth which was all sorted out after some rest), and he's motherfucking sexy as hell. But what worries me the most, is how well we get along. He's a pothead and a smoker, he's only now starting college, and he's a clown. And I get along with him FANTASTICALLY.

What the hell does that mean? I also dated a guy that was 6 years younger than I was, and before him, I dated a guy that was 3 years younger. It just...happens.

What does it all mean?

Ego Boost Banging

I hadn't seen Grasshopper in quite a while because we had had a falling out. I saw him at bar and he said "Hi." and I felt my heart break a little. I told him I needed to go walk around the bar a bit and that I would be right back. Then I sat down next to him...next to my best friend.....We started talking and drinking. And the beers kept coming and we talked and talked.

He was looking at my lips.

We had made out once but...I didn't want him. Now...he has a reaaally sexy way of looking at you. But as far as I'm concerned, that's about all he has going for him. I was in the mood to be seductive. I was in the mood to be wanted. I knew that he had been wanting me for ever and ever. We had an established friendship however, I could talk to him about any guy that I wanted and it was fine. I knew that if I slept with him it wouldn't mean anything more than the fact that I just wanted to sleep with him. I knew that if I kissed him that's all it would mean too.

So we left somewhere where we didn't feel so observed. And we made out. Then we went to his house and he undressed me. As his hands searched for the right buttons and hooks to undo I went over to feel between his legs to see what I was working with.

Tiny.

Goddamit. This wasn't going to be a good lay. I knew he was no good with women either, so he wasn't going to get me off. We were at it for about 2 hours, we had sex three times, I didn't even REMOTELY feel good any of those times. At least not physically.

Emotionally however, it was a different story. I could feel the enthusiasm in his hands, in his lips, in his breath. I could almost hear him thinking "holy shit I'm fucking Mae" like it was some ultimate fantasy. I wished to death I was as good as his fantasy Mae was.

The day after I felt a little uncomofortable about the fact that this would now be the third time I have sex without loving the dude and am completely OK with that. I'm uncomfortable about how comfortable I am. But...I'm a very sexual human being, I love the way it feels to be in that situation, to seduce, to feel the bodies moving and the person's breath in your ear. I mean God it's so hot. Last night with Grasshopper was more of an ego trip than it was me trying to get off.

Does anyone else do that?