May 2006 Archives

I've taken a number of trips via train over the last few days.

As an American, this sort of thing is a novelty, so forgive me.

The train station at the first leg of the trip was full of young people. Teens, mostly. I don't know where they were from, if some local boarding school let out for the holidays or what…

Forgive me if it reminded me of the Harry Potter movies.

What made it magical for me personally was that the greater percentage of young passengers by far were… little girls and young women.

Ai!

The young woman across from me could not have been of legal age, but she had french-manicured nails, low pumps, and dangerouly low-slung jeans.

The few times she stood, she had to pull up her pants. She never really did entirely conceal her pink panties. Of course, I didn't mind at all.

Once she left to redo her make-up. She came back a little over-done. I decided she was probably a pain in the ass because she kept sighing loudly.

It occurred to me that I could use my cock to break the language barrier.

I also thought briefly about coming on her face.

And I thought about a story I read once that began in a train station.

Last night at work I was talking to the 40-year-old teenager.

She was complaining about being sore. Her arms and shoulders hurt. Apparently from having the sort of sex that makes your arms sore. On and on she joked and posed, strectching, saying she needed to start taking yoga again. Praising herself for her flexibility, saying her husband says she'll give him a heart attack…

I giggled and shrugged. She was flirting in rare form.

I didn't tell her my arms were sore, too.

Because I have a flogger now.

It dawned on me today that what I love about blogging and reading blogs is the sense of the personal.

Much of this I realize is inferred. On my part or yours.

But I pulled back emotionally from what I put into this blog some time ago and it really hasn't been the same since.

Part of it I realize is that I haven't been able to contribute to the immediacy as much myself. When I started writing, I kept a window open at all times to dash off a quick horny thought as soon as it occurred to me.

Well, I don't know if I can do that… My work situation is not now as it once was—Privacy and what not.

And I've been trying to keep up on two jobs, so lately when I get home after the second job I have far too few hours left to eat, blog, fuck, and sleep. I usually end up short-changing myself on two of three of those every night. My porn collection is also not growing very quickly anymore…

But I love this blog and what it means to me. It's a badge of my rebirth.

I'm sorry if I alienated you some time ago with my talk of sexual addiction. I think it was just one more sign of how I was willing to be convinced there was something wrong with me.

On the other hand, coming through the experience, I feel like I'm stronger and better able to know for myself what is good and right.

Sex and sexuality is good and right. Worthy of worship and praise and thanksgiving. It is the reason we are here and maybe the purpose for which we exist. Maybe. To love and to breed love. You know?

I still like being the mysterious quiet one.

The place where I'm contracting during the regular work-week has I think several cafeterias. The food isn't bad. I theorize that it's subsidized. It's not very expensive relative to the local restaurants… And convenient as hell, since my breaks for lunch are only a half-hour. Leaving the campus just wouldn't do. It takes 10 minutes to walk to my car from my cube.

But it's a gorgeous spring day in Minnesota, so I ate outdoors at their out-door cafeteria. It just opened for the season this week.

At the table next to mine, two young women were dining. One of them, with her back mostly to me, was wearing low-rise jeans. The way they were slung, nearly her entire knit-panty covered backside was exposed. She was not wearing a thong, but I could see the piping around the leg openings and bare skin past that. I mean, those jeans were way down.

So all during the 15 minutes I was actually on the terrace, I spent easily half of that time looking at, or trying not to look at panties.

Teal knit panties with pink, fuschia and purple overlapping polka-dots.

And skin.

She wasn't a hottie or anything, but fuck it. I was looking at her panties.

Tonight when I came to work at the bookstore, I noticed someone in the cafe who looked like she could be Diablo Cody.

I checked with a couple of people who worked there. And I even checked with a friend who had a laptop.

We were thinking, "Yeah. It's her."

But I didn't bug her more than just checking her out.

She was at a table with a bunch of people who looked reasonably hip and there were what looked like a couple of photo albums on the table… like it could have been family or like straight friends.

I didn't have the heart to walk up to her and say "Hi! I'm a pervert! I love your work!"

Later, she saw some of the flyers we had in the store which advertised an appearance at another store in the same chain, doing a sort of "Oh-my-God-that's-me" take. The folks she was with grabbed some of the flyers.

And that's all I know, because I was behind on my close and I had to start paying attention to actual work.

But I still think it's cool that she took her lifestyle and her blog so public. I admire that she's so open about her life, especially sexual stuff, or at least the stripper stuff. What's more, she's no victim.

I'll probably buy bought her book. Didn't get to attend the signing. Dammit.

Nibbles, then bites, then bites that bruise.

Grabbing a fist-full of hair. Pulling it tight. Then using it to control you. Pulling your hair while I fuck you hard.

A playful slap on the bottom. A swat. A spanking that leaves your skin stinging red and hot.

Buying rope. Learning to tie your wrists together. Tying you face down, ass up. Using that rope to whip you.

Learning what it means to own you.

And by owning, being owned.

A boy and girl at the bookstore bought me a copy of Suicide Girls!

They really like me!

Get the fuck out of the left lane.

Don't tap your brakes, asshat.

I shouldn't have to pass you on the right.

I've been a little overwhelmed:

I've accepted a contract position, hopefully temp to perm but as yet unknown, which is full-time, 40 hours a week. I'm also still working at the bookstore about 20 hours a week.

So I'm a little dead. Mostly alive, still horny, but without lots of extra time or energy.

I *hate* blog posts that say "I'm sorry I haven't posted," but here I am, doing just that.

I'm working hard to catch up on my finances. I just wanted you to know I haven't gone away. And I will be back in force. Just right now I don't have the spare moments I would like to give you the attention you deserve.