Sunday, July 25

Sometimes I wonder if it's because I spent the first 22 years of my life being so very good and doing what was expected of me, that I've enjoyed so much being spectacularly bad and relished doing the absolute unexpected for the last 12 or so. (And by bad, I do not mean ever purposely causing anyone harm. I haven't stopped trying to be a kind person.)

Perhaps I just didn't have the courage when I was younger to do anything but the expected. I recall spending an awful lot of time and energy worrying and being afraid of what people would think if I didn't do what I was supposed to do. Somewhere along the line I realized that people can't think anything if they don't know anything. If you plan well and don't get caught, you can fly under the radar.

"Why did you hook?" people ask. I think part of the answer lies in the above. Getting away with the unexpected while maintaining my good girl image was what hooked me.

Saturday, July 24

I've been away from my computer for a couple of days, visiting a girlfriend, hence my absence here. Now my inbox is full, my house is a mess, and I must spend today re-grouping.

Things I've learned over the past couple days: Vanilla Stoli and Diet Coke is an excellent low-carb cocktail, I'm not sure which one of us is the bad influence, don't believe a lawyer when he tells you he's never done anything like this before, and she and I should never ever become roommates. Ever. Men will loudly exclaim "Oh my god" when you accidentally give them an upskirt flash while you're not paying attention and fumbling around with trying to stuff a parking ticket in the visor on the opposite side of the car. Oh, and try not to get jalepeno pepper juice under one's fingernails, for it will sting for hours.

Wednesday, July 21

Mike had some interesting questions regarding his situation, and I've asked him if it's ok to discuss them here.

- Are there any women who value a man who's held the same standards as I have?

- Do most women view the "double standard" as something the men should improve upon, or something the women should partake in with the same impunity?

- Should I have gotten my kicks in college when the opportunity was best?

- Is it a bad thing that part of me wishes that I fucked around in the past now that I know I'd be able to have it overlooked?

- What things would people do (sexual and non-sexual) if they knew it'd be overlooked or forgotten, or just written off as "boys will be boys" or "those were my wild days" or "that was just one night" or "that was a long time ago?"

- Is it a bad move to try and pursue my fantasies now, at the age of 24, or is it too late now that I have a serious relationship?

- Should I involve my girlfriend in these fantasies, or should I break up and pursue them independently? How do I broach the topic to my girlfriend? How badly can this sort of thing ruin a relationship?

-What if I never find a relationship as good as the one I have now?

-Will the rest of my life be plagued with "what ifs" if I never pursue it?

First off, let me just say that I like Mike. He strikes me as a person who's kind, thoughtful, and intelligent as well as idealistic. I have to admire his earnestness.

I'm only going to address some of these questions, and from my own personal non-expert perspective, obviously. I'm no authority on what's 'right,' but I can put forth my own philosophy, and I hope others will take the time out to give theirs, as well.

First of all, one can only speak in general terms about what women value, since women make up half the humans on earth, and every woman is unique. Naturally there are going to be some women out there that have tried their best to always do everything 'right' as Mike has, and would value that same dedication to making good choices. However, I don't know too many people who are so spot on with every single one of their choices, nor do I know too many people that think so deeply about every decision they make and how it will affect their futures. It's just not the way the majority of people operate and I believe it's very idealistic to expect that is how most people live their lives. For instance, I'm fairly sure that while Mike's girlfriend was allowing herself to be used in a sexual situation by some unsavory characters, she was not thinking about her future. I don't know her so I don't know what she actually was thinking, but I'd be willing to bet her future was the furthest thing from her mind.

I'm not sure what sorts of fantasies Mike is wistful about not partaking in when he had the chance in college, but what strikes me is that he talks a lot about boys using women, and has an issue with that. I feel using someone in an unkind fashion is a bad thing. (Getting a girl drunk and taking advantage, pretending to be interested in her emotionally when you're not, etc. etc.) But not every instance of casual sex can be put into the category of a man unkindly using a woman. Women certainly do use men for casual sex, too, and as I've said before, I really don't think there is anything wrong with having casual sex as long as both parties are on the same page about what's going on.

Since I don't know what Mike's fantasies are, I don't know whether he should pursue them or not , or even talk to her about them. But 24 is so young, and it's likely he'll have plenty of time to take care of them at some point, if they are the kind of fantasies one isn't participating in with their partner.

Help a brother out here, folks.

Tuesday, July 20

Regret is an interesting topic for me. Yesterday's postings have brought it to the forefront of my mind. I might be a bit unusual in the respect that I rarely ever look upon things I've done with regret, but I do regret things I have not done. Even if a choice I've made has turned out to be a bad decision, I just look upon that as a lesson I've learned, rather than something to beat myself up for forever. One grows from their mistakes, and if you never allow yourself to make any, how can you learn anything?

I feel a little bit sad for people who decide on a particular path, and then refuse to deviate because they have committed themselves to it even when they've found that perhaps the path isn't as interesting or fulfilling as they originally thought it would be. I feel very strongly that one should constantly evaluate their path. Take risks. Allow one's self to be imperfect. Experience everything you can, don't worry so much about making mistakes, and grow and grow and grow.

I have more to say on this topic, but unfortunately real life stuff like work and errands prevent me from spending more time musing.

Monday, July 19

What is about to follow is a bitchy little rant. If you prefer to think of me as an eternally sweet person who's always perfectly calm and cheerful, please feel free to not read the rest of this post.

1. If one more person emails me and says something to the effect of, "Hey, I haven't read your blog in a while. Care to fill me in on the 'former' part?" I am going to lose all faith in the intelligence of the human race. Why anyone would think I would wish to send them their very own special report as to why the blog now says 'former' is totally beyond me. If you're really that interested in the answer, I would assume you'd be interested in reading the blog and therefore finding out the answer to that question for yourself like the rest of the patient faithful readers. It's in there.

2. One of the reasons I lost interest in being an escort is because I got tired of answering the same questions over and over. It's boring. (And I want to make it clear that I'm not directing this at anyone I'm currently corresponding with or have in the past corresponded with.) Please, do me and yourself a favor: If you want to waste your time typing out a question to me, you should read the blog first. If I've already answered the question at great length, I'm going to ignore your question. Simple as that.

3. I'm not a world authority on hookers. I can't give you the name of someone halfway around the world for you to contact to have your GFE experience with. I can't even give you the name of someone in my own freakin' town to have a GFE experience with. All I can suggest to you is going online and doing some research. There have been plenty of excellent suggestions from 'hobbyists' in the comments on how one goes and does this research. It's in the blog somewhere. Use the search feature over on the sidebar, dammit.

OK, I'm done. And I feel much better now.

A comment on my previous post has got my brain whirring in a million directions.

To summarize (since the comment was quite long), Mike says he's found out his girlfriend of 5 months had participated in some group sex before they were involved. He's never done anything of the sort because he "was under the opinion that it was more of a desirable quality in the eyes of a woman if the man they're interested in having a serious relationship with has always been faithful, loving, and not just about the sex." So now, according to him, while he feels they have a great relationship he has an issue because his girlfriend doesn't live up to his "standards" now that he's been made aware of her experimental past. He says, "I never took the chances I could have, thinking that a serious girlfriend would have held to some similar standards." And now he's trying to figure out how to get her to try a threesome with him, without directly asking for it.

If that all sounds confusing, just go and read the comments on my previous post.

First off, I find it amazing how some people feel that a person who's experimented with their sexuality is somehow less valuable than someone who hasn't. It's no wonder that lots of folks have such difficulty discussing their sexual pasts, having to worry they're going to be judged for actually having a sexual past.

Secondly, what is wrong with being 'just about the sex' sometimes? My opinion on that matter is that as long as both parties are fully aware that it's just about the sex, where is the issue? If there is no deception involved as to the motives of both parties, why is sharing physical pleasure a bad thing? Why should this preclude one from forming close intimate relationships with others at a later time, should they happen to find a person they wish to become more serious with?

And lastly, did I read Mike wrong, or is he intimating that now that he knows his girlfriend doesn't live up to his high standard of purity and therefore the relationship probably doesn't have a future (since he can't come to grips with her sexual past) it's ok to get dirty?

Boggles my mind, it does.

Sunday, July 18

A reader asked me how one goes about arranging a threesome. While I've participated in a number of threesomes, I'm sure I'm not qualified to write a definitive guide on the process. I can, however, offer some information about my own experiences in the threesome arena. First off, let me just say that I've never picked up a stranger to add as the third party. I know this is a fantasy for a lot of people, but since I don't have experience there, I can't really offer any insight into how exactly that's accomplished.

My very first threesome experience was in college. A couple of not-so-close friends apparently had a plan, and that was to get me fairly drunk and have their way with me. Since we didn't discuss the experience after it happened, I don't know how detailed their master plan was, but I do recall that at some point during the process I was made aware that it was something they did actually did plan in advance. They decided that taking me out and encouraging me to drink a lot was the way to get the job done. It worked, yes. Back at my place one of them started making out with me while the other was in the bathroom. When the absentee returned, he included himself in the mix. Next thing I know we're in my bed. But somewhere in the middle of things I sobered up and started feeling an awful lot like an object that these two were basically using to masturbate into. It became rather evident to me that my pleasure was not a concern of theirs, and when I realized that, I halted the experience. I wanted them to leave, but didn't know how to politely get them out of my bed, so we all ended up sleeping together and then not talking about what had happened in the morning. It was more than a little awkward and I don't recommend this method.

My next threesome also involved alcohol, but not in the same way at all. This time I'd had enough to drink to honestly answer a question about fantasies posed to me by a friend. I said I wanted to have a threesome with two men, and I wanted it to be all about me. At this point in time, I wasn't one to go blurting out my darkest desires to anyone, and I'm sure if I hadn't had quite so many gin and tonics that night, I never would have answered the question. If not for the booze, I would have turned beet red and mumbled something about being shy. But the honest answer to the question was all it took, for about two weeks later, I was lured to his apartment (under false pretenses) and had my world rocked by him and my other toe sucking friend (note previous post). What I came away with from this experience is that sometimes all it takes is opening your mouth and being frank about your desires, and there just might be someone (s) who shares the desire and is interested in making it happen.

And then, some years later, I met a group of open-minded people and became part of their social circle. Most of them had had sex with one another, in various combinations. These folks weren't at all shy about talking about what turned them on which is why I'm sure they were having so much sex. It was oddly fascinating and liberating getting to know these people, since they were quite different than any other circle of friends I'd ever known. Everyone knew everyone else's business. I found this somewhat disconcerting in the back of my mind. One had to weigh whether the pro of getting to have all kinds of interesting sex was worth the con of knowing it was going to become public knowledge soon after. For a while, since I was indeed having a good time, I was able to put aside my privacy concerns. I shared girlfriends with my boyfriend. I played with girlfriends and their boyfriends. It was easy as pie. Suggestions to come back to our place and get it on were just as normal as say, suggesting a BBQ on Saturday. But, just like anything else, it you do it enough times the thrill wears off. And because everything was being talked about, petty jealousies and drama eventually cropped up and the shine wore off the new penny.

So talk about what you want, but be prepared you might just get what you wish for.

Saturday, July 17

Man Jailed for Allegedly Sucking Toes

I apparently have nice feet. I only know this because I've known several foot fetishists and they've told me so. When I was in my early 20's, two male friends simultaneously sucked my toes, after a discussion on the qualities of my feet. The experience lasted about a minute before I had to extract myself from the situation or I feared things would have gotten out of control. The girlfriend of one of my friends was there, and while she was watching with a bemused expression on her face, I didn't know how happy she'd have been had I let them continue for much longer than I did. But this weirdly erotic experience did figure in my fantasies for quite some time afterwards.

Many years later, these same two friends used the toe sucking technique to seduce me into having a threesome with them.

While I don't advocate going up to random women and sucking on their toes like the man in the linked article above, I would have to say that it's a more original technique for getting into a woman's pants than the typical, "So, do you want a backrub?"

Friday, July 16

"I need to laugh, and when the sun is out, I've got something I can laugh about."

Good day sunshine! Damn straight. I woke up in an excellent mood this morning. Some days I just feel more alive than others, and today is one of those days.

I've received a bunch of questions lately, oddly enough, from folks wondering if I can recommend a escort in their area. Alas, since I don't know any escorts (save for a friend who's in my area) I cannot.
So sorry.

I've just noticed that I've been blogging for six months now. Frankly, I'm surprised. I didn't know I had six months worth of stuff to say. But there's still so much I haven't said yet, and I think this form of self-therapy/examination has been one of the healthiest habits I've ever picked up. I thank all of you who have participated here by questioning me, because it keeps me questioning myself.

Thursday, July 15

This is absolutely stunningly beautiful piece of writing. I implore you to read it.


I've linked the author's blog, Lusty Lady, over on the sidebar. She's something else. Wow.

I feel like it's been raining or gray forever. I'm afraid to check the weather report to see if it's going to continue for much longer, for fear that it will. I think I'd rather just be optimistic that tomorrow I'll wake up and the sun will be back in effect.

I had a conversation yesterday about my fondness for thighs. Actually, it started off about baseball, which led to me thinking about the player that gets me the most hot and bothered, and since my fondness for him is all because of his thighs, it started me thinking about where that thigh thing came from in the first place.

The very first time I saw the film The Spanish Prisoner, I think I only paid attention to about 60% of it since I had my hand on the most perfect thigh I'd ever felt and it was difficult to pay attention to what was going on on the screen. It felt like a rock, encased in faded denim material. I didn't rub, I didn't squeeze, I didn't caress. I just let my hand rest there on that thigh, perfectly still. The reason I wasn't more active was because I was still in love with the owner of that thigh, and this was the first time in a year we'd seen each other. It took all the courage I had to my put hand there in the first place.

So now I look at legs. I think it's a little bit masochisitc of me. Whenever I see a pair that look like they'd probably feel just like those belonging to that man I loved, I feel a sharp stab of wistfulness. But I just can't help myself.

Wednesday, July 14

Some interesting articles from

Going Digital: Fingering a woman for men who need to know, and women looking for extra tricks!

Sweet Eating

Flirting for the Advanced Soul: A Single Woman's Guide to Getting Attention

It's Bare..It's New...It's You

A Bird in Hand: Mutual Masturbation

Off I Go -- The Masturbation Fantasies of Erotica Writers

The Global Gourmet and Good Sex

Thanks, Joe, for making me think to post these.

I've never played with a violet wand, had a proper over the knee spanking, been to a sex club, or attended an orgy. (Do people really have orgies?) I've never been play raped, asked to hand my panties over in a restaurant, or had sex with more than 2 men at once. I've never acted out a random scene in a porno movie while watching it with a lover, been penetrated with anything other than body parts or sex toys designed for that purpose, or gone shopping for toys with a man.

There are all sorts of things I haven't done. I could go on and on, but I should save something for later.

Tuesday, July 13

According to this article, Top 10 Women's Sexual Fantasies, being a stripper or a hooker is #4 on the list. Who knew? I didn't realize it was such a popular fantasy.

As for the rest of the entries, the ones that currently appeal to me are 9, 7, 6, 3, and 1.

I find the article itself is pretty hokey. I think the supposed quotes by the women interviewed aren't very realistically quote-like. No one talks like this: "In some fantasies I obey, yet in others I fight him and refuse to do anything he says until he finally ties me to the bed and calms me with his rhythmic penetration." Calms me with his rhythmic penetration? Gimme a break.

I think it might be fun to poll my female blog readers as to what theirs actually are (not just the ones listed by the dumb article), particularly the ones you haven't discussed with your partner. Anonymous, of course.

Sunday, July 11

A friend told me the other day that I'm crazy, but in the best way one can be crazy. This was after I'd asked, "Why is it that sex with crazy people is always the most fun?" I'm not quite sure what he meant in his particular definition of crazy, but it wasn't a slight. So it got me thinking of occasions I've done crazy things (the original topic of this blog nothwithstanding) and I've come up with a few.

This happened years ago, and I've have to put it pretty high up on the list of spontaneous crazy things. During a hiatus in my relationship with my boyfriend, I once went to Montreal on a blind date. (It's a good 6-7 hours away). I'd met the guy online somewhere and we'd chatted numerous times online over the course of couple of weeks and had graduated to talking on the phone. I believe it was during our first telephone conversation that we both expressed a fondness for road trips. During the second phone call, somehow it was revealed I'd never been to a strip club. Somehow these two separate conversations turned into his idea that we should go on a road trip to Montreal to see strippers for our first date, which incidentally was supposed to be occurring the following evening.

At first I thought, "That's insane! We can't do that!" And then I thought, "Why can't we do that?" So I agreed. He gave me directions to his place and told me to bring along my favorite CD since he wanted to listen to it and hear why I chose it. Something meaningful to you, he said. I liked that.

Everything about the next two days was much less weird than one would expect. We had a fantastic time. Great conversation, good food, pretty strippers, Cuban cigars, lovely hotel, decent sex. It was a blast. On the way back we decided to get some take out Chinese and I'd spend the night at his place. I think we watched a movie. (I remember he had a really nice bed. I've got a weakness for high quality linens and down pillows.)

When you've gone to a foreign country on your first date, it's kind of difficult to top that, so everything after that is kind of anti-climactic. On the second date I made him lasagna and we went to the movies. We saw "Being John Malkovich." I noticed him laughing out loud on numerous occasions during the film. But on the way home he told me he didn't like the film. "Why?" I wanted to know. He didn't know why. And that's when I decided we had no future and that would be our final date.

It was.

I'd love to hear other blind date stories. I can't be the only crazy one.

I like sex with the lights on. Granted, I don't want bright light shining into my eyes since I find that very unpleasant. Low lamp light is preferable to unflattering overhead lighting, and don't even get me started on flourescents. Ick.

People that spend a lot of time with me might find that kind of odd that I prefer lights on sex, considering I'm always the one shutting off bright overhead lights and switching on lamps instead. I even have a dimmer switch for my awful overhead kitchen light. When I was in college friends used to tease me about being a vampire because I wasn't one to ever bother opening my dorm room curtains to let in the light of day.

I like to be able to see what's going on because I feel more connected to the person and the experience that way, I think. Perhaps I'm a little bit of a voyeur and a bit exhibitionistic, too.

I had a weekend once with a lover in a hotel room that was pure indulgence. We got a total of 6 hours sleep over the course of two nights, and somehow managed to use 18 condoms. Afterwards, not only was I surprised I could actually still walk, but I realized we didn't spend any of that time in positions where we weren't directly looking at one another. (The one time we did it doggie, I was bent over a dresser with a mirror on top.)

I was thinking that perhaps one of the reasons that sex with the boyfriend seems so detached and mechanical is because he prefers the pitch black darkness, and he usually gets his way. Sometimes I get the feeling that when he's fucking me with his eyes closed in the dark, in his head he's banging Jenna Jameson.

Saturday, July 10

Very rarely does something speak to me like this post did. Such sexy angst.

It's odd how it seems so easy to determine someone else's motivations for things they do, but it's such a tough and exhausting journey to figure out one's own.

Last evening my boyfriend and I dropped in to see a friend at his band space on our way to the movies. The rest of the band was there, and they were talking about weekend plans, etc. One of them asked what film we were on our way to see, and I replied, "Before Sunset." This elicited a knowing laugh from all present, besides me and the boyfriend. I'm pretty sure none of the guys had any idea what this film was, and they just assumed from the title that it was a sappy chick flick and my boyfriend must be going along begrudgingly. I didn't really get a chance to explain since the subject moved on.

Good films are a passion of mine and I tend to turn my nose up at anything that smacks of Hollywood Chick Flick. I tend to gravitate towards indie films, the more morbid and wrenching the better, vs. basic mindless entertainment. But every now and then film will actually appeal enough to the hidden romantic inside me to get me to add it to my list of "You Oughta See This" movies. The 1995 release called "Before Sunrise" was one of them. It stars Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy and is about two strangers who meet on a train and then spend a single evening wandering around the city of Vienna talking and falling in love. Sounds pretty nauseating, doesn't it? But it isn't. If it was my boyfriend would not have cheerfully gone along with me last night to see it's sequel -- Before Sunset.

And I was not disappointed! Thank heavens. I prepared myself to be let down, too. Sequels usually suck, but this one did not. So rent Before Sunrise, and then go to your local arty theatre and see Before Sunset, and tell them Laura sent you.

Friday, July 9

Si asked, in regards to "dungeon experiences:"

Did you ever experiment with that side of it Laura? Would love to hear any funny stories you've got about that!

I certainly did experiment further. I'm trying to discuss this stuff in chronological order, though, so I will get around to expanding on that in due time.

Joe remarked:
I think it interesting, looking back at your posts on this, that he seemed to seduce your mind long before you did anything physical. You describe him as 'smart, funny, sexy' and not 'handsome' or 'hung like a moose' (not to imply that he wasn't either). I think that's an improtant take home lesson for all us guys.

While I found J physically appealing, that was the least important of his qualities. He wasn't particularly handsome by societal standards (or hung like a horse), but he was attractive to me. I'm sure if I didn't know him like I did he would not have turned my head on the street. I've never been particularly superficial when choosing boyfriends (although I was when choosing clients). What's goes on inside an individual's head is far more important a consideration to me than what they look like if I'm going to be sharing emotional and intellectual intimacy with them.

Joe also said:
It seems that, in a way, and tell me if I'm wrong here, that you were looking for that D/s experience with your clients, while you were escorting. Your clients telling you to do naughty things, perhaps pushing limits, is sort of the fantasy. but I guess that really isn't the reality. I doubt you'd really feel safe with a client like that, and so he probably wouldn't make it past the screening. and so the clients you meet are "generally pleasant and sort of sweet", and certainly don't push your limits. As you said, "with a client... I'm always in charge." (O.K., not a real quote, but it's late, and close enough for jazz) And so being a prostitute was a bit more mundane than you had hoped. and you moved on.

No, I was definitely never looking for a D/s experience with my clients. Knowing what I know now, I can't conceive of relinquishing all control to someone I barely know. For one thing, that would not be very smart or very safe. But more importantly, and it's difficult to explain, but just because I have a submissive nature when it comes to sex (and nothing else, actually) does not mean that I feel comfortable submitting to just anyone that labels themselves a Dominant. I have to be inspired by something particular in a man's personality to wish to submit to him, and trust him implicitly on top of that. It's a rare combination of factors and not a combination I ever expected or even hoped to find while escorting. I didn't want my limits pushed at all, and in fact, I got rather irritated with anyone who was even remotely pushy with me even via email and would decline to see them based on that.

Thursday, July 8

When you bring up BDSM a lot of people assume you must be talking about whips and chains and floggers (oh my) and leather outfits and dungeons and that sort of thing. Someone is being hit with something, perhaps crawling around on the floor or shackled to a wall, and there's got to be intense amounts of pain involved. That's a misconception. Not all dominants and submissives play with pain, nor do they all wear leather costumes and call each other Master and slave when they're playing. Some do, sure, but not all. For some the play just mental and includes only the sort of acts that are considered fairly ordinary and commonplace by most.

J never put on leather pants, or whacked me with a whip, or told me I must call him Sir. I think if he had I probably would have been rather freaked out, actually. There wasn't any sort of punishment involved in anything we did together. Pretty much what it was all about was figuring out the things I refused to do and then getting me to do them. There was never any asking going on, it was telling. It was thrilling to have no choice in the matter, to not have any responsibility for my naughty actions was intensely exciting to me.

And oh how I loved him, and he loved me. We found one another fascinating. We never ran out of things to discuss. Being with him was one of the most contented times in my life. But the timing was just so wrong, and sometimes geography and circumstances can put a big huge hitch in perfection.

Wednesday, July 7

I guess I must have done a really inadequate job of explaining that my gig as an escort is over since lots of people keep asking me about the addition of the word 'former' in my banner.

Nothing bad happened. There was no 'event' that precipitated the decision. I just stopped feeling enthusiastic about doing it. I got tired of the small talk (answering the same questions over and over, basically), not to mention the work involved in creating ads, screening clients, and arranging my schedule to suit others. It's a lot of effort, and while it was fun for a time, it became less amusing over time and started feeling a lot more like work than play.

So that's it. Nothing more complicated than that. I'm sorry there's not a more thrilling explanation to the big mystery.

Tuesday, July 6

The other day I read an essay at (Nocturnal Omissions) that talks about how 'forgettable sex really is." I find I almost completely disagree with the entire essay. It makes me wonder what kind of sex the author is having if she remembers more what stubbing her toe feels like than sex.

I remember, totally vividly (almost like there's a permanent video in my head) many, many sexual occasions. Granted, there are some that stand out more clearly in my mind than others, and lots of routine-ish occasions that blur into themselves. But there are some that I know no matter how much time elapses will always be fixed in my memory---what we did, how I felt during and afterwards, how the experience changed me a little bit. I think I've always just assumed it's like that for everyone.

The sex with the aforementioned older man J was extraordinary for me because it was so different than the self-conscious fumblings of my boy lovers. Here was a man who knew what he wanted, knew I wanted it too (or if i didn't want it yet, I most certainly would soon enough) and he wasn't the slightest bit ashamed about it, either. It didn't take very long for him to get me to drop all sorts of arbitrary boundaries and limits, simply because he wished for me to, and I trusted him so completely.

I didn't realize it at the time since I didn't know a thing about BDSM, but he was a Dominant and I was definitely a submissive. We didn't discuss it, we didn't have rules, regulations and safewords and all that, it was just something that was. In every day situations (what to have for dinner, what movie to see, etc.) we both made the decisions, but when it came to sex, he was completely in charge and I was thrilled to let him be.

We were involved in a relationship for a year. And I can play most of it back in my head like it was yesterday, even though it was 13 or 14 years ago.

When I was 20, I thought I was sexually knowledgeable. After all, I'd spent the previous 4 years involved in two long term relationships and had a lot of sex with those boys. Those two had a lot in common; both virgins when we started, smarter than average, a little bit geeky/nerdy, and both wound up being obsessive in a crazy and guilt-inducing way. As I came to find out though, a lot of bad sex doesn't equal much of anything when it comes down to it.

Then I met a man.

J and I worked together one summer. He was very smart, very funny, very sexy, very married and 10 years older than me. We had an instant rapport from the moment we met, but the fact that he was married made him completely off limits as far as I was concerned. Still, we spent a summer getting to know one another's minds pretty well and I was definitely sadly and wistfully smitten by the time I had to go back to college.

The last thing I said to him before I went back to school was, "Call me when you're divorced." I was mostly joking.

Six months later, I get the call. Three days after that, I went to see him. And shortly after that is when I started learning what good sex is (for me, at least).

Monday, July 5

"You've ruined all other men for me forever, you know."

I've said this twice in my life, and both times I meant it completely when I was saying it, even though it's obviously not entirely true. The first time I said it I was 20 and I was talking with my 30 year old boyfriend.

Why is this so difficult for me to write about, I'm wondering now? Usually the words just spill from my fingertips into my keyboard, but this is not one of those times. Perhaps I just want to get this one right?

I guess I'll try again later. Sorry for the false start.

Friday, July 2

Most of the time when I think of my first real sexual experience, I think about my first real boyfriend, and being 16 together.

That's not exactly accurate, however.

The reality is that my first sexual experience, beyond basically innocent kissing, occurred a year earlier the summer I was 15. I had a job (if you could call it that) at a coed overnight summer camp. I was a Counselor in Training. A C.I.T. There was a male counselor that was ancient by ordinary counselor standards, for he was 23. Most of the females at the camp found him interesting indeed, for he was good looking, funny, and was what everyone thought was an all around nice guy. He was dating another counselor, but paid far too much attention to me. People noticed and gossiped. His girlfriend noticed and was angry. I enjoyed his attention and the way he treated me like I wasn't just some dumb kid.

The details surrounding how we ended up in my bunk together in my empty cabin one night near the end of the summer are fuzzy (since this happened almost 20 years ago.). It must have been a transition weekend for there were no campers in the cabin. There was beer involved, but I wasn't drunk and neither was he.

After a whole bunch of kissing, he slid his hand down my shorts and fingered me. I didn't like it. It hurt. I remember wondering how to get him to stop it without seeming 'uncool.' So when he removed his hand from my shorts and put it on my head instead to push me down to his cock, I was at first relieved. The relief didn't last very long, however, since I'd never given a blow job before and had absolutely no idea how to go about it. I didn't really want to do that either, but my desire to not appear uncool overrode my common sense. Instead of stopping the situation, I let him pretty much choke me with it. He had his hand on the back of my head, pushing. I vividly recall that I had tears in my eyes from the gagging. I probably could have stopped him at any time. But I didn't. And he didn't warn me when he was about to cum, and did it in my mouth. Shortly thereafter, he snuck out of my cabin and back to his. And I crept to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

I'm never doing THAT again, I thought.

My first and second boyfriends weren't allowed to touch my head while I gave them head.

It's funny how things change.