sorry i’m not a virgin, sorry i’m not a slut…

for some reason i’ve been listening to christina aguilera’s stripped a lot lately. during one of the interlude like songs she utters the title of this post along with some other stuff but those stood out to me. i have been joking about being hypersexual the last few days but really it’s closer to the truth than not. almost anything can be made sexual for me from brushing against me when we are doing something mundane to gruffly stating my name in an unexpected place. in either case my body feels flush all of a sudden and spending four or five or twelve hours sating myself on the object of my desire would be just delicious. that would be key there, i can’t do it for anyone anymore. i think i lost that ability with my ability to function on two hours of sleep a day somewhere around the end of undergrad. i wasn’t indiscriminate but i did have a small collective of men that were willing to pleasure me at a moments notice and who if they failed to do so were easily and readily replaced.

now, especially now, as i have stumbled into the whole bdsm arena full steam ahead my desires have been even more channeled than they were before. what used to seem like a good idea has become a necessity for me to fully explore what makes me tick sexually. i can get myself off quite nicely alone. good old manual stimulation and a good memory can shove me over the edge. but thinking of being his, at this point a mythical his lol, can make me simmer and burn all day. thinking of waking up and greeting him with a nice long wet blow job brings a smirk to my face. being shoved into a hot steamy shower and fucked hard against the bathroom wall starts a tingling sensation down my back. being forced to get dressed and wear something highly constrictive off to the office makes me wish i had brought the nice pocket vibe to work. coming home and taking care of daily living things can taper it off a bit. but imagining being under his thumb when all the other distractions of the day have faded stokes the flames up full blast. i do have to thank my former him for helping me develop a healthy appreciation for white rope against my skin but it just feeds into the fantasy at this point. seeing my hands tied tightly with the rope makes me tremble. seeing that rope suspended to bar above my head and feeling my thighs spread apart as my ankles are locked into the spreader bar and all i can do is sigh deeply because if i touched myself then it would just make me start screaming. i feel the crop cut into my skin, the flogger slap areas already made tender by the nice paddle full of holes, the clamps being cranked up and the pain shooting through my nipples bringing me to tears. the pain subsides, my hands are lowered but not freed, my ankles are unlatched long enough to push me face down on the bed. somehow he grabs both the loose rope attached to my wrists and my hair simultaneously as he uses me roughly and repeatedly until he is spent and lays me on my side a panting wanton slut solely existing to please him.

slut, that word would detract from the title but then again i wouldn’t be A slut i’d be HIS slut which is a different process in my brain. i don’t exist to please any and everyone anymore. i exist to please him. in all of my travels before now that’s what i have been seeking and will hopefully find in all its glory. i am finally a self-aware woman who greatly enjoys sex. i enjoy the nexxus of my body meeting his. i enjoy losing track of time as his tongue invades my mouth and his hands explore the flesh that he can manipulate, tease or pleasure at his will. my body adores responding to the flood of sensation that overwhelms me until my brain is just functioning at the most basic of levels: do what is enjoyable. lick, caress, grope and fondle whatever comes close to you. give yourself over totally to the person there with you and trust that we will both be falling over on our sides panting sated blobs.

at this stage of my life i’m a few years away from being a non-virgin nearly two thirds of my life. i had sex before i knew what that really meant and what it could mean for me long-term. save buying stock in trojan at one point (would have been a GOOD investment at the time even though again that was a lot of sex with one person) i cannot say i regret any of my progression to now. puritanical mores never really sunk in my brain with regards to sex and it’s allowed me to see all the levels of the lifestyle with open eyes. in speaking with the new him, i’ve realized how intensely sexual i am from time to time. Emperor wasn’t asexual or anything we were just sexually expressive in different ways. i haven’t asked him directly but it seems as if new him might be more on the same page with me in that respect. and if we aren’t, just imagining wrapping my limbs around his 6’8” inch frame is making me come to a slow burn. thinking of him overwhelming me and make me tremble stokes the flame that much more. daydreaming about kissing him, tasting his skin and hearing him sigh my name (i have no idea what it is about men sighing my name) in contentment is making me wish i had that teleporter again. ahh well you can see my lusty self is re-emerging slowly but surely. it may just burst out of me if things go well tomorrow (well i guess later on today) and i am forced to ignore all of you long enough to see where exactly my body curls against someone over a foot taller than me.

okay as usual, i’ve rambled enough. see ya
red