Posts Tagged positivity

Over and under

I’m just back from a lovely extended weekend with the Boyfriend. I had my last set of classes until mid-April and a mock exam (which I excelled in, obviously; fingers crossed I can pull off a performance that well the last week in May) on Thursday so went out and got drunk that night, and turned up at his very hungover the next evening, he helped me recover by means of extensive cuddling and we had a fairly early night followed by some morning sex.

This time it was my turn to be the one in charge, which I quite enjoyed and he seemed to like as well. The first time he properly dominated me I wrote how it was a bit hypnotic to be focused 100% on someone else’s pleasure; having someone else 100% focused on you is equally amazing, if a bit more effort. I fucked his face for a while before lubing up, pushing him on his back and getting on top of him. You would think (I certainly always did) that bottoming also meant automatically being the submissive one in these contexts, but that couldn’t be further from the truth! Tumblr provides us with some useful advice here, from a blog called The Healthy Dominant:


Having a hand around the throat really does help keep the submissive under control, and it’s quite a nice sensation to have your hand there in the first place. There’s something quite gratifying about seeing his face turn red as he’s fucking me from below, and thanking me for spitting on him. (Actually he doesn’t like being spat on as much as I enjoy spitting on him, so we compromise and I spit in his mouth instead.) As we got closer to the end his breathing got faster and the thrusts became more frantic. “Come on, fuck me, really fuck me, do it like you hate me” and he did and it was brilliant. I came on his belly before he pulled out and we kissed while he finished off, then had a cuddle and some toast. Not a bad start to the day!

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Two-way street

Not relevant at all but this is my 100th post on this blog!!! Thank you so much to everyone who reads it, whether you’ve been here since day one or today is your first day reading. A special thanks also to Sparkles, Purple and Lady in Red for coming up with the idea in the first place and encouraging me to start this!

When the Boyfriend and I first got together and had just discussed the ground rules and parameters of how open our relationship would be, he mentioned it to a couple and friends and relatives of his, at least two of whom expressed the same concern: that it was all well and good for me to be okay about myself sleeping with other people, but that I might feel differently about things when the Boyfriend went and did the same.

To be honest it was a concern that hadn’t occurred to me, but when he mentioned it to me I realised that it was a valid once since in most if not all of my previous relationships – granted, the last one ended in August 2011 and I’d like to think I’ve grown a great deal since then –  I have been a jealous lover. So I told him that when he hooked up with someone else, if I did react badly to it, we’d sit down and talk about it and reassess what our arrangement is – fairly reasonable, no? We both thought so anyway.

He came over this weekend – I was only gone for a week, stressful ferry journey back but very good and inspiring week away – and before he did so told me he had some “weird news” for me; when he got here (with his brother who was visiting him for the weekend) I asked what that news would be and it was his brother who told me that the Boyfriend had indeed hooked up with someone else the previous night when they were out. I was a bit taken aback, because it wasn’t what I had expected to hear (there’s a bit of an odd situation involving his ex and someone else we know going on so I’d expected it to be about that but apparently we’ve moved on from there) .

We didn’t really go into the details there in the kitchen – I’m sure his brother wouldn’t have wanted to know all the gory details anyway – but I brought it up during our pillow talk that night. I asked him what had happened and how it was, which I’m not going to go into here because it’s not my story to tell; and then we spoke about how I felt about it. I can honestly say I was actually quite happy about the whole thing, which even surprised me a little bit. There were two or three main reasons for this, the main one being that I no longer had to worry about my reacting badly to it, like his friends had worried I might, since that had been in the back of my mind; it means that the relationship is more in-balance, since me sleeping with other people when he hasn’t been could have caused resentment and a sense of unfairness; and also, I think it’ll have done his self esteem very good, which makes him happier and in turn makes me happier to. When we were first discussing these things he rather self-deprecatingly said that it didn’t matter too much since he only had “a theoretical chance at casual sex anyway,” which I disagreed with, but now he knows that’s not true.

So everyone’s a winner – he got some sex while I was gone, whoever this other guy is (he doesn’t know his name) got some too, I’m happier about or relationship and the Boyfriend seems to be as well. I don’t think we could ask for a better outcome to your partner hooking up with someone else!

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Flashback Friday – First “Small world” incident

I’d been living in this city for about two years before I had my first “ridiculous coincidence, small world” type encounter. I suppose that’s long enough to get a large enough network of people in a city with just under 560,000 people in it (1,750,000 in the urban area around the city, which makes calling it a city seem justifiable). Anyway, I this was not long after my last encounter and therefore also not long after the breakup preceding it.

I was in that club again, except then it wasn’t “again” because I’d only been going for a few months by that point and it wasn’t as tedious as it is now. I don’t remember how I started talking to Jason-Jacob-Joseph (my friends and I kept getting his name wrong, and while I know what it is now it became something of a running joke between us) but I do remember that he wouldn’t come back to mine that night for whatever reason; he took my number and asked if I’d be there next week. I kept getting tongue-tied because I was really nervous, so my friend D answered for me that yes, I would be. He text me that night when he got home – he lived in a town about 25km away – and I woke up the next day to find he’d added me on one of the social networks still in use at that time but which, like so many others, has since been supplanted by facebook. This particular one had a “friends in common” feature when you looked at someone’s page, and it was from there that he discovered, and sent me a message saying, that I knew “[his] ex D and his cunt friend Hitraya”. At that point the penny dropped where I had heard his name before – Hitraya had been giving me wee updates about J and D’s drawn-out breakup as it was going on. Well, good to be able to put a name to a face I suppose.

Nowadays if someone were to refer to one of my best friends, or actually any of my friends, as a cunt, I’d cut off communication with them because I don’t stand for shit like that but in those days I was a lot less forthright than I am now so I let it slide. He and I stayed in touch that week and then the next week rolled around and D, J (not him, another J) (more on those two next week) and Hitraya herself went to the club, I met him and to be honest it was a bit horrendous. He was like a mouse with ADD on crack or something, couldn’t stay in any one room for more than five minutes at a time. Anyway, he came back to mine eventually, and actually at night we barely even kissed, let alone had sex. That was the next morning, just oral actually. Not brilliant, certainly not worth the effort of having kept in touch with him the whole time. It had been a bit of a stressful week actually cause his ex D knew we were in touch and no-one could say anything to anyone without it being relayed back to everyone else – high school never ends! That was just a few weeks before I left this city and went on Erasmus and so he wasn’t really keen in staying in touch, which is fair enough really. By the time I came back here I think he’d moved somewhere else, he apparently now lives about 650 km away, though I did lay eyes on him in that club recently when he was up to visit.

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Shooting Myself in the Foot

It’s half past one in the morning and I can’t sleep. Given that I started my final finals today and have another one on Thursday I could likely be putting my insomnia to better use, but no, here I am, writing on my blog and listening to Roxette.

Some of you will remember Sonic who has popped up once or twice in the past. Being a first year and living in university-owned accommodation, Sonic has no fewer than eighteen (count them) flatmates (of whom at least five are in some way Queer, at the last count). One of these is a lovely Iberian boy who for the purposes of this blog we’ll call Fofo, because wordreference tells me that describes him. Anyway, I’ve had a bit of a thing for him for a while – makes a change from the central Europeans– and on Saturday another flatmate of his and Sonic’s invited me round for some drinks and guitar playing. By which I mean listening to others play the guitar, I can’t play it at all. There was quite a crowd there but over the course of the night our numbers dwindled until there were only four of us still up. At this point it was almost five in the morning and the flatmate who had invited me up suggested that rather than face the walk home I sleep in Sonic’s bed, since she’s in her home country until this Friday and her roommate is sleeping with one of their other flatmates just now so the room was completely free. She then went to bed, followed shortly by the girl from the neighbouring flat. Fofo and I said goodnight, he went to his room and I went to Sonic’s, to sleep for a few hours at least before meeting Tigger for lunch.

I didn’t even have the light off before my phone beeped. Here we go, I thought, Fofo wants it in him. (Crude? Me? Never). It was indeed him. This conversation then happened:

Fofo: Good night
Dexxx : Sweet dreams. If your roommate starts talking in his sleep just come through here, the other bed’s empty.
F: Haha he is again snoring but me is in my PJ’s and cozy
D: Fair enough. Night then!
F: U comfortable though?
[he definitely wants it in him, think I]
D: Well it’s weird being in someone else’s bed (no jokes!) and it’s a little cold…
F: Haha it can be weird. I’m sure you can deal well with the cold
D: Well I’ll just have to!
F: Hum don’t be sad about it! I’ll see you tomorrow then?
[might as well be direct]
D: Unless you want to see me just now
F: You are just relentless now are you not?
D: Just being honest. Ball’s in your court
F: Hum fair enough. I’d like to go there but my prude side is still hard to deal with.
[uh-oh, he’s nervous, say something to calm him down a little]
D: I’m not saying anything like that would happen but I do actually quite like you. It’s up to you but decide soon, my phone’s about to die
F: I think I won’t go there for two reasons: you’ve told me you like me and if I went in there it would only be out of a carnal desire. Second: I’m still coming to terms with myself about casual sex. I am sorry if I have hurt or offended you in any way.
D: Don’t be silly, of course you haven’t. Sleep well.

(I’ve never been referred to as a carnal desire before, I think I like the title.) The next day he apologised again for potentially having offended me so I thought, we clearly have to settle this and went round to see him on my way home from a meeting. He somehow managed to say neither what I thought he would say (“I was drunk, ignore it all”) or what I wanted him to say (“Fancy a shag after all?”) but managed to rather eloquently highlight how I managed to shoot myself in the foot. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to go to bed with you,” he said. “It’s that you said that you like me and I don’t want to mislead you, I think you deserve better than that.”

Well, that’s what I get for being honest I suppose.  I’m not trying to criticise him in the slightest because he was, after all, only doing what he thought was the best thing in the situation and I can sort of see where he was coming from. I think the lesson I’ll have to take from this is to be less forthcoming – or at least, more cautious with it – with people who I would like to get to know as more than a casual random fuck. You live you learn.

On a completely unrelated note, I’m thinking of starting up a new feature called Submissive Sundays; if you feel so inclined submit (see what I did there?) a story or article to do with sex or relationships to and we’ll see about getting it posted. It can be random thoughts, something you’ve got strong views on, a funny story to do with your sex life (past or present), or a response to something I’ve written, really anything goes. I already have two submissions and a third one in the pipeline, but if I get a lot of interest I’d like to make it a regular thing.

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Pretending I’m in Sex and the City

Bruga has a friend from home visiting over the weekend and wanted to show her some of our night life in the city, so last night the three of us, along with Pan, went out dancing. It was a really fun night, though God only knows where Pan ended up. (He has a habit of vanishing in the middle of a night out, or deciding to stay when everyone else is leaving).

He and I were stood at the bar and after Pan had ordered I commented that the barman was cute. “Talk to him,” said Pan, handing me a fiver. So when said barman came back with Pan’s pint, I paid, and immediately realised that made it look as if Pan and I were a couple. Oops. There’s always a way out though, so when the barman came back with the change and handed it to me I asked his name, which he gave as M; “Hi M, I’m Dexxx, and you’ll be my barman this evening.” M blushed and we went off to dance. (Special thanks to KittyMama for the opening line).

Even though the place was busy – not packed like it is on a Wednesday – I did get served by him for the rest of the night, and barely even had to queue. Not my first drink after that encounter but the one after that, I asked “Could I have a vodka lemonade and your phone number please?”  (I seem to have this idea in my head that I live in New York and people actually say this stuff to bar staff. As far as I know they really don’t but whatever, it worked) and he sort of started for a second and then went, “Not while I’m working…” and turned away to get my change, having an animated conversation with one of his colleagues at the till. Then as he gave me my change his hand lingered on mine for a second and he continued, “… but you can give me yours!”

Now, I don’t know how many of you have tried to find a pen in a night club, but for me it was certainly a first and it’s really not easy. I had a bit of an aha-moment when I realised the toilet attendants have to fill in time sheets, so I got a pen off one of the friendly ones of them I’d been talking to earlier in the evening. It always pays to be nice to almost everyone. I put my number down on the back of a receipt, making sure it was the right number this time and that my writing was actually legible and went back to the bar.

At this point Pan and I ran into a very friendly girl who was in the club for the first time, and befriended her. She offered to buy us both drinks and I said “Well I’m actually flirting with one of the bar staff…” so she just handed me a twenty and told me what to order. Once I did, and this woman (I think her name was L?) had added three shots onto the order for us, I slipped the receipt with the phone number on top of the twenty and handed both over. I thought L’s eyes were going to fall out of her head at the temerity of it but I explained the rest of the story later. Anyway, barman put our order through the till (giving us the shots for free, cheers pal) and my number in his back pocket.

Boom. That’s how it’s done.

I suppose that technically we can’t term that successful until I get a text from him, so we’ll see whether or not that happens. But the free shots and the fact that he took my number are small victories in themselves, and at any rate it’s a more successful night than Pan’s since he ended up sucking off a 39-year-old tourist in the toilets…

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Upward Spiral

Things all happen at once, I find. I mean, having a shit few days or weeks where nothing goes right and then you turn a corner and suddenly everything starts going well again.

The boy from Wednesday texted today – I’d cleverly managed to give him the wrong number, presumably my old one, but a mutual friend sorted that out somehow or other – which was an unexpected surprise, and I got a job as well. Here’s hoping it keeps on going like that!

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