April 4, 2014
Consent is at once an unrealistic ideal, and a really low standard.

So let’s have some real talk.

 And we’ll start off with this: you have never had sex with someone in which they gave full, enthusiastic, unqualified verbal consent to everything you did. Neither have I.

 I have never had sex with a woman and asked, repeatedly: “can I touch your left breast? Can I touch your right breast? Can I touch your left nipple? Can I touch your right nipple?”. I just assume that if a woman is willing to sleep with me, they are okay with me touching their breasts and nipples. Equally, when I go down on a male, I assume that their consent to me sucking their penis extends to me licking their testicles. But I don’t extend that assumption to their anus. I don’t like rimming people to start with, but even if I did, I wouldn’t assume that someone being okay with me licking their dick/balls means they are also okay with me licking their arse. There is no particular reason for me assuming that if a woman wants to have sex with me she’s okay with me touching her nipples, I just assume it because it’s culturally normal – there is no particular reason for me assuming that a man who wants to have sex with me doesn’t want me touching his anal region, I just assume it because it’s culturally normal. Actually, I have slept with a couple of women who’ve asked for their nipples not to be touched, and also with a couple of men who have asked for their anus to be touched. So the assumptions “if a woman consents to sex she consents to having her nipples touched” and “if a man consents to sex he doesn’t consent to having his anus touched” are, in my experience, false.

What’s the point of this ramble? Firstly, assumptions of what’s consented to when someone consents to sex are dictated by sexual culture, which - much surprise very wow - doesn’t match up with what each individual wants. Secondly, when I have sex with someone, I make assumptions about what they want and do not get consent for each individual act – and I bet you do that too.

More to the point, it’s functionally impossible to do this. Imagine if you genuinely did get full verbal consent for each action; sex would become impossible. Break it down – let’s say that for every part of the body you can lick, kiss or touch it, and that each part of the body is considered as its own section for consent-giving purposes. Imagine trying to kiss down someone’s neck to their breast if you got full verbal consent for each act:

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February 13, 2014
I slept with 50 people!

…And Layla Randle-Conde, a friendsicle from FB, wrote me this in honour!

A little birdie told me you’ve been having lots of nookie
Congratulations on your 50th, you’re certainly no rookie!
Here’s to another another 50 romps & lots of games and fun
And here’s to sticking your whole arm up lots of people’s bums!

Not much time/energy for proper posts for a few days - get back to it soon, I hope. :)

February 3, 2014
Bored in an airport, have some fantasises.

These were keeping me awake last night. Wanted to wank but was sharing a room with 5 other people and that’s just not cool. (I went to Slovenia with some people from my uni course.)

These all centre around the playdate I’ve got planned this Friday with RD and GH. We’ll see how many come true.

- GH kneeling with a ring gag holding his mouth open, hands bound behind his back and “cocksucker” written across his forehead.

- RD fucking GH while GH goes down on me. RD pulling out before he comes and furiously facefucking GH before he comes all over GH’s face. Photographing it. Putting it on FetLife with “my subby bitch” written underneath (and “cocksucker” still on his forehead).

- GH not allowed to clean himself; holding a 5p piece against the wall with his semen-stained nose and listening to me fuck RD.

- Grasping GH’s cock in a vampire glove and telling him how small and pathetic it is.

- Cutting along the muscles between GH’s ribs and watching the blood trickle out. Dipping my finger in it and telling GH to suck it clean.

- RD and GH both spread out before me for a caning.

- Spitting on GH’s arsehole to help lube it before RD fucks him.

- Riding RD’s cock like a sex toy; touching myself; having GH kneeling down beside me so I can use his saliva as lube but he can never, never touch me.

- Allowing GH to come on my feet. Smearing it onto his balls and cock. Having RD lick it off.

(I will make a post that isn’t about sex soon, I promise.)

January 10, 2014
Poly Q&A

People often ask me questions about my relationships when they find out I have a boyfriend AND a girlfriend AND a fair few casual partners as well. I’m going to write some of these up now, just quickly; bear with me if it isn’t very good, I’m just waiting for the heating to come on before I do my uni work.


You can see this as a kind of updated version of this, which I wrote when my relationship with the boy was “only sex with other people, no love”. Things have changed now.

WTF is this?

This is a form of non-monogamy that I call “polyamory”, in which I am free to have both sexual and romantic relationships with more than one person at a time, as is everyone I am involved with. There are several forms of non-monogamy from “don’t ask to don’t tell” to “only in a threesome” to “only with my permission” to “everything apart from penetration” - actually, there’s about as many forms of non-monogamy as there are non-monogamous couples (or triples, or groups), but the terms you’re most likely to hear are “polyamory” and “open relationship”.

In my case I have two involved relationships, a long-term one with my boyfriend and a newer one with my girlfriend. I get about outside these relationships and have various hook ups and friends with benefits and so on and so forth; I think it’s fairly unlikely I’ll meet someone else I care about as deeply as these two, but if I did I’d make sure to talk to my preexisting partners and see how they feel before taking it further than a casual fling.

Are your boyfriend and your girlfriend dating?

They’re friends but they’re not going out. I don’t mind either way; so long as they get on, that’s enough. If they hated each other that would be quite difficult.

So it’s cheating with permission​?

NO NO NO I HATE THIS. The word “cheating” implies deceit and going behind someone’s back. It would be cheating if I started a relationship and didn’t tell one or both of my partners, or if I actively hid something I did from them. Doing something that we have all agreed is okay is NOT cheating.

Do you have to tell them everything?

If I go to a club, meet someone, and have a one night stand, it’s not obligatory for me to provide an itemised list of what I got up to either my girlfriend or my boyfriend. In reality I talk to them a lot about most aspects of my life so they’ll probably hear about it anyway, but so long as I don’t actively hide it from them or lie to them about it it’s fine.

Don’t you get jealous?

No, not really. I like hearing about my other partners going out, having fun, meeting new people. I like it the people I love are enjoying their lives. I don’t define my romantic relationships sexually, so them having sex outside the relationship doesn’t fuss me, and neither does them having other romantic partners; so long as they still have time for me and their partners are treating them well and making them happy, it’s all good.

Doesn’t that mean you don’t love them​?

No, you are wrong. I get something different from my romantic relationships than my friendships; it’s closer and deeper, somehow. It’s more than sex and it’s more than friendship; it’s something more important than that. I love them, but I am okay with them loving more than just me.

Slut!

Okay then.

You have daddy issues/you just don’t want to commit/it’s a shame your friendships aren’t strong enough/anything else that implies that I am poly because I am somehow broken or lacking in part of my life.

Fuck off.

My goodness, is this what all young people get up to these days​?

Well, I get up to it, and many people of my acquaintance do, but I’d say that in the overall population of under-25s, non-monogamy is pretty uncommon.

You must be riddled with diseases.

I’m fastidious about my sexual health and get tested every few months; so far, nothing has come up, and even if it did, I’d just get it treated, no big deal. Considering how careful I am, I highly doubt I’ll get anything in the foreseeable future.

Have you and your boyfriend and your girlfriend ever…err…

Do you really want to hear the gory details of my sex life?

You do?

Oh.

It’s mainly in the casual sex, sex and love, and kink tags, along with a lot of introspective rambling.

November 10, 2013
Diary entry - 09/11/13 - Updates!

HELLO! I’M BLOGGING AGAIN!

I couldn’t stay away. I love it here.

Quick update as I’ve been gone so long - I haven’t blogged properly since, what, the end of August? That’s two months! That’s so long!

Somehow I appear to have gained followers, so hello to old and new! There are now 363 of you and I really have no idea why you give a shit about my ramblings, unless of course you’re only here for the naked pictures.

About the naked pictures - now I’m at university I’m not modelling with any degree of frequency, so very soon I won’t have sufficient new photographs to fuel this blog (this is a unique situation in this blog’s history). I shall therefore be reblogging older images to fill my queue, so you might see a few repeats. I’m sure you can cope.

Important things that have happened:

  • I have gone to university. I am now at the University of Nottingham studying Natural Sciences - the biology, chemistry and psychology pathway. In my first year I study all three subjects, in my second and third year I’ll specialise in two and graudate with dual honours. See, not just a pair of tits.
  • University makes me sad because even though I like my course, I haven’t met anyone I connect with properly, and I really miss feeling comfortable and happy in social situations. I’m just really lonely a lot of the time. My mental health has deteriorated as well which is not fantastic. My medication is helping though - I’m on 60mg of fluoxetine a day now, up from 40mg. (Fluoxetine is given in 20mg capsules and the maximum dose is 80mg/day.) As well as helping with my mood, it also means I get drunk really easily, so it’s really cheap to drink these days. And I’ve been socialising so little that my alcohol tolerance has gone down.
  • I’ve decided to run away and join the circus, and to this end I’ve taken up pole dance and hula hoop at university, in addition to continuing with the ballet I did at home. I want to get into the karate and gymnastics societies too. I’m going to the gym so I can get the upper body strength to do pole properly, and I’m doing contortion classes in London with Pixie le Knot at Ecole de Pole which is awesome. Everything at uni is so cheap and close to me, it’s great, I CAN DO EVERYTHING. (Contortion is more expensive because it’s in London but I love it so I can deal with that.)
  • The boy and I had our 5th anniversary on the 2nd November. We are still very much in love, and I am very happy that our relationship has lasted so long. Had one of the nicest meals I’ve had for a long time at Bocca di Lupo with him. I love that restaurant, but obviously I don’t go often because it’s expensive.
  • I’m burying this last one at the bottom because I’m not sure how meaningful it is yet: DN told me she loves me. I haven’t yet myself be deliriously happy about it yet because she was very intoxicated and sleep-deprived at the time, and I’d really like to hear it from her sober before I get too excited.

November 4, 2013
Mimieux Banged Up Abroad: Girl on Girl loving

mimieuxinmadrid:

I’m bisexual. But that doesn’t mean that I’m very good at girl on girl loving. The number of my female sexual encounters dwarfs in comparison to my girl on guy lovin’ times. I always thought that to be a ‘good’ bisexual, for every guy I slept with, I’d have to make it up with a girl, to prove to…

This post is about me.

This blog is going to rise, phoenix-like, from the ashes of inactivity. I swear it, I swear it.

September 23, 2013
UNI!

…It’s going a bit better. All the other students have moved in and I’m making An Effort to socialise with them even though I’m mainly finding the interactions stresful and effort-ful rather than enjoyable at the moment. It will get better. I’m looking forward to starting lectures and getting involved in the dance and karate societies.

I’m up at 5am because I remembered too late that I had a Coursera quiz due this morning and had to stay up to do the requisite work and complete the quiz. If you don’t know Coursera, it’s basically an organisation that partners with universities the world over to provide free online courses for interested individuals. I started a few during the holidays and managed to get hugely behind, so now I’m spending quite a lot of time desperately catching up. (If you’re curious I’m doing animal behaviour, an introduction to volcanology, and an introduction to mathematical philosophy. UBER NERD.)

Still hoping to get back to blogging…in time. I think I’ll set aside a chunk of time on Friday, as I don’t have anything scheduled by the uni on that day and there aren’t any interesting Freshers events during the day. I might have meetings to go to though. We’ll see.

The other EXCITING THING which I want to do is to get into is writing again. I have always wanted to write a proper book that gets published, and when I was younger I had loads of ideas for novels, but never got more than 10,000 words into any of them. I don’t write very much anymore, mainly because I have no focus and not as many ideas as I once did, or rather no idea how to turn the ideas I do have into a coherent story (in particular I get confused about how to portray a gradual change in a relationship over time), but I still have the dream of producing a published work that you can buy in bookshops.

I also feel really irritated much of the time by the portrayal of sex in media. I think it’s normally very sanitised, without much discussion of the really awkward bits. When was the last time you saw a portrayal of someone putting a condom on inside out? (FWIW, I get really confused by condoms, which is weird considering I’ve encountered a lot of them.) I would like to produce a set of short stories, no more than 2 - 5 A5 pages each, about my various sexual (mis)adventures, and fill said stories with nothing but the unashamed truth: so there will be mind-shattering orgasms and spontaneous threesomes, but there will also be fanny farts and malfunctioning sex toys and - on a more serious note - abuses of trust and boundaries, and frank discussions of sexual health.

With 50 of those stories I would end up with a volume somewhere between 100 and 200 pages. That is long enough to seek an agent and submit to publishers with. Realistically, it probably won’t ever be published, but it would be good to finally produce something of publishable length and go through the submitting process, so later on I can work on other projects with a bit more knowledge of what I’m aiming for. I’d aim to produce a first draft in 12 - 18 months, working at about one story a week, though obviously I’ll need breaks for exam season and so on.

I could organise the stories thematically (kink; threesomes and moresomes; soloing; etc) which has obvious advantages for the reader dipping in and out; or by partner - not one story per partner, but all stories about a particular partner grouped together (I don’t have much to say about some of the people I’ve slept with) - which would allow the way relationships develop to be examined but has the disadvantage of particular sections of the book repeating the same theme over and over; or simply chronologically, but the reader would probably be confused by too many characters dropping in and out of the book, and also I can’t always remember the exact order of events. (Did I go to this party first, or that one…)

I guess I could do it by partner and also chronologically, with all stories about a particular partner grouped together and the order of those groupings dictated by when I met a partner, and then include an index allowing readers to search the stories for whatever they’re interested in on that particular day. This would probably work, except for when I’ve only slept with someone a few times a long time apart.

The other big issue is that I would never be able to tell my family about this particular project. (Imagine if it did get published and I had to do signings and other publicity nonsense. What’d I tell them?)

Oh look at that it’s 5:30am I am really terrible at sleeping.

July 11, 2013
Diary entry - 30/06/13 - I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love. What do I do about it?

I met DN just over a year ago at K Bar. At first, I threesomed a lot with her and her boyfriend KN, but about six months ago they closed up their relationship for reasons private to them. The sex-friends relationship transitioned quite smoothly into a just-friends relationship, and now I would probably count her as one of my really close friends who I feel comfortable being very emotionally open and vulnerable with (there are about a half dozen people in this category, which now I think about it is actually quite a lot - I’m happy that I know so many deeply awesome people).

I never thought about her as a potential romantic partner. It had always been snuggly and close when we slept together, but it didn’t feel like love. Having her as a platonic friend is awesome, but in my head she wasn’t in the potential pool of romantic partners; I just didn’t think of her that way (is this an appropriate time to use the term “friendzone”, even though that’s a deeply irritating phrase?).

But on the morning of 30th June, she sent me a text saying that she missed being my girlfriend and wanted to start seeing me again soon. Which was a bit of a shock to me, because I never thought she was my girlfriend, just my play partner. I knew she’d been out the night before, I wondered if it was just an alcohol thing…it wasn’t. And I guess I should’ve guessed, because in The Text she addressed me with my birthname, which she does know even though she normally calls me Tansy when we’re socialising. (The interaction between my birthname and my nom de plume/model name/scene name confuses me, but that’s for another post. For now it’s sufficient to say that I answer to both and am happy being called both, but most of my really close relationships know me as my birthname and so I associate that with a greater degree of emotional intimacy.)

And ever since she’s sent me that text, I can’t get the idea of her being my girlfriend out of my head - can’t get HER out of my head. I feel like I’m falling in love very swiftly, but perhaps it’s not quite so swift - I’ve gone on before, not here but to my mum and to the boy, about how incredibly comfortable and accepted I feel around her, how much on my  wavelength I feel she is, how she’s one of the very few people in the world that I feel I can just be myself around and don’t have to censor myself or adjust the thoughts in my head so they make sense to her. I can just say it. For most people, I package my internal thoughts into a vaguely comprehensible form because I think in a funny way that confuses most people in its raw form, but with her I don’t have to. And if I misstep and find my foot in my mouth (this happens a lot), she understands/forgives instantly. I really appreciate that in a person. And, you know, she’s intelligent and interesting and gives me a new perspective on the world, I value her insight, she’s fun to drink with and to go out with, she challenges me when I need challenging and fuck, I really am going head over heels for this girl. I always loved her as a friend, but now I’m beginning to love her as a GIRLfriend. And not in a “oh girlfriend you so fierce” type way.

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July 8, 2013
Diary entry - 23/06/13 - Sleeping with virgins. (Am I doing this right?)

So a few weeks back I tottered up to North London to spend a naked afternoon with MKC. I don’t think I’ve mentioned MKC before; he’s someone who attends K Bar who I play with frequently at that event, normally as a top – he’s pretty toned and running a pinwheel over the contours of his abdominal muscles is fun. He’s very sweet, a bit shy, very pretty. I’m not sure how much we’ve got in common, and I probably wouldn’t socialise with him outside the scene, but he is fun to play with and we do get on.

We’d been playing for months at K Bar, and both of us had made it clear to each other that we wanted to fuck, but I’d been procrastinating until after exams because no time! So when my exams finally did finish on the 19th June, I took the opportunity to visit him. I don’t feel like talking about the sex in detail, but rest assured that I had fun, and I believe he did too.

I’d assumed that he’d already slept around a fair amount; he’s pretty and nice, and there are lots of people at K Bar who want to have sexytimes with him. It wasn’t until the morning of our meeting that he informed me that he was a virgin. I said “I’m okay with that if you are”, but honestly, felt a bit trepidatious (I know that’s not a word, I don’t care). I’ve slept with two virgins before – the first one was the boy. I was 15 and also a virgin, and obviously it turned out well. The other was the third person I ever slept with, an old school acquaintance of the boy’s; I met him, I thought he was pretty, I wanted to stretch within the newly open status of my relationship with the boy, I decided to sleep with him. I invited him to the cinema with me and flirted throughout the film; at the end of it we kissed passionately and he drove me back to his house where we fucked, and it was good. He drove me back to my house after, we spoke about synesthesia on the ride; I wanted to meet again but he wasn’t into it, which is fine – and a few months later I heard from a mutual friend that he “considered it rape”.

What? Having sex and then regretting it is not the same as rape; being seduced and then deciding you shouldn’t have been isn’t rape either. I suppose that in a way I’m lucky that it’s this way round; if I were a boy, people might well have taken him (her in this imaginary land?) seriously, and that would have been interesting.

Anyway. So my experience hooking up with a virgin prior had degenerated into false accusations of rape. Which isn’t a gresat start. But MKC is a very different person to the old acquaintance of the boy’s, and that hasn’t happened. It’s taken a different, also not fantastic though not quite as bad, turn instead.

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July 8, 2013

Anonymous asked: Easy and cheap to call a woman a slut. Something for men that are insecure about their sexual identity and or the image they have about women. Mostly they fear women and therefore demonize them. Hr

There’s nothing to indicate that this anon is male. It could very well have been a woman; it is most definitely not just men that call women sluts.

I actually disagree that men who call women sluts are insecure or women-fearing (or that women who call other women sluts are jealous, which some people say). It’s a term that comes from a view of sexuality which says that people start off pure and the process of having sex damages or devalues them except in specific circumstances like marriage, a committed relationship, etc. If you have this view - that sex is immoral in some circumstances - saying that someone’s a slut is similar to saying they’re rude or selfish; it’s referring to a moral failing in their personality. Interestingly, the term “slut” originally referred to someone who lives in a dirty, unkempt way - I still hear older people use it in this fashion every so often - which is a fairly obvious linguistic step if you think that having some types of sex is inherently dirty.

I don’t think most people actually subscribe to that point of view though. I reckon that if most people stopped to think about it, they’d think that, actually, having sexytimes with adults is not dirty or unclean, and that people can do what they want with their own bodies. But if you’ve never stopped to think about it, then it’s all too easy to absorb a societal attitude which makes jokes about whores, sluts, tramps, that demonises sex workers and still finds it hard to understand that, yes, some women do like and seek out sex.

Every so often you will find some moron who tries to justify the slut/stud dichotomy with piss poor evolutionary biology - men are primed to spread their seed, women to find a loving partner to raise their kids, therefore women who don’t select mates solely on their ability to raise children must be deficient in some way (which means that logically, men who aren’t interested in shagging everything that moves must also be deficient in some way, though I don’t think I’ve ever heard that argument made). There’s no proper evidence for this, it’s just a faux-scientific way of justifying sexual double standards for men and women.

June 17, 2013
2am thought before I go to sleep.

Probably because of my job, I spend a lot of time thinking about which body types are portrayed as sexually attractive through the models used in adverts and editorials and glamour magazines, and the actors in TV and film. Typically, they oscillate around a fairly standard thin for women, muscular for men, white, young, able bodied, cisgendered ideal, with limited deviation from the norm.

And I’m just thinking, actually, that doesn’t correlate with my experience at all. I’ve slept with a pretty wide variety of people at this point, male, female and one person who flagrantly defies the gender binary every day of their life; black white Asian, both from the Indian subcontinent and from the Far East (“Asian” is such a vague term); obese to muscular to thin; 18 to 67 years; and one paraplegic man.

Obviously I’ve picked up a fairly wide ranging catalogue of sexual experiences, but thinking back on them, the ones that spring to mind aren’t always the ones with the most conventionally good looking people. The woman coming explosively round my fingers in a club; the man holding a magic wand to my clit as I thrashed; a different man dripping wax on my body then slicing it off with the cold blade of a knife; these people were too old or too fat to be praised as beautiful by mainstream press, but I’d rather fuck them than a supermodel any day.

Though this may sound like an obvious conclusion, the sexual partner that I see shown as aspirational in popular culture is not the sexual partner I actually aspire to. There is a lot more to sex than grabbing the best looking person around and rubbing your genitals on them; the best sex does not always come from the most conventionally attractive partner.

What am I trying to say? I think…the media is lying to you and to me. Sleeping with traditionally good looking people won’t automatically enhance your sexual experience. Don’t get caught up in chasing pretty people, even though your whole life you’ve seen films and TV shows portray the “beautiful” partner as the best partner; it’s much more worthwhile chasing those who have the patience and the will to coax you into shuddering orgasm.

May 3, 2013
Diary entry - 29/04/13 - Wanting the freedom to love freely.

The rules of my relationship with the boy are nominally very simple:

  • You can be friends with whoever you want. You can sleep with whoever you want. You can submit to or dominate anyone you want.
  • You just can’t fall in love with them.

It is not as simple as I want it to be…

In general, I am good at tracking my feelings. There are a few people I’ve crushed on; I have a few friends with benefits who I would count as good friends, and whose welfare I care about and am invested in. But love is something different, and it’s something that I haven’t come close to finding with anyone else.

I find it hard to define what “being in love” means to me. I know I am in love with the boy. It’s something special about him and about us, but I often find it hard to vocalise the difference between The Relationship and all my other relationships. I guess…it’s feeling calmer just by being in the same room as him; it’s being comfortable and open around him all the time, with no exceptions (this is rare in my angsty brain); it’s sending him silly texts and bringing him little gifts from my adventures; it’s dropping everything when he needs me; it’s him being my first port of call whenever something that makes me sad or happy or that I think is funny happens. I get that with friends as well…but not as much. Not in the same way.

Sometimes I want to be that person for other people too, especially when I see my friends drooping and miserable. I want to be their first port of call and I want to drop everything for them; I want to buy them silly gifts and snuggle them and hug them and kiss them better and tell them I love them…

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May 1, 2013
I love everyone I’ve ever fucked (just not in the same way).

I wrote this about a year ago. Still relevant. I’m posting it because it’s useful context for the next text post.

———-

I have a slightly awkward habit of blurting out “I love you” during sex. It’s a habit imported from sex with my most consistent and frequent sexual partner, my best friend and lover who I’ve been seeing in one way or another for about three years now. It doesn’t mean anything; I’m just as likely to forget myself and tell a one night stand that I love them (but only if they’re good enough to make me forget myself) as I am to tell the aforementioned best friend/lover/sexual partner in crime (who wouldn’t have been around so long if he weren’t good enough to make me forget myself). It doesn’t mean I’m going to be upset if they move away tomorrow, that I’ll hang around and make demands on their time, or that I feel much more than “fuck that’s good”.

It’s still true though.

It upsets me that I only feel comfortable telling my primary partner that I love him. My relationship with him is not the only loving relationship in my life, and it bothers me that in modern parlance “in a relationship with [xyz]” appears to mean “I am in a full time romantic and sexual relationship with [xyz]”. That’s just nonsense.

A short list of the people I am currently in relationships with:

  • My mother
  • My oldest friend Caroline
  • The ex-friend who I avoid seeing
  • My driving instructor
  • My infant cousin
  • The priest at the church I used to attend
  • The Singaporean penpal that I have never met, but have been conversing with for four years now

I could go on….

Any person that I frequently interact with, I have formed an interpersonal bond with; I am in a relationship with them. It may not be a positive relationship, or a committed relationship, or a particularly intense relationship, but it’s still a relationship. A great many of these relationships involve some form of love, but outside very close friends and family I don’t feel comfortable vocalising it because of the risk of being misunderstood. I’ve been seeing my driving instructor once or twice a week for two years now (driving does not come naturally to me); we talk to each other, share jokes and anecdotes, and I’ve occasionally confided in him when things have gone wrong. I feel affection for him; I trust him and respect him; I’ll be sad when I eventually pass my test and have to say goodbye. Isn’t that a type of love?

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April 11, 2013
Diary entry - 06/04/2013 - I did a bad thing. Commence self-flagellation.

This post concerns, quite closely, some stuff that is fairly personal to a couple I know. I’m going to attempt to be vague about their personal details, and am going to refer to the two halves of the couple as “him” and “her” respectively.

Onwards!

I’ve been threesoming with this couple pretty much since I met them and really enjoying it; it makes me feel close to them, appreciated, and loved. Also, they are both really fucking hot. That helps. However, recently they’ve been having a few relationship troubles and closed up their relationship in response to that.

On Saturday I went to visit them both and drank and talked and ate pizza with them, and it was fun, but it felt a little strange, partially because I could see the tension between them (I’m not sure if someone who didn’t know them would have been able to see it,but maybe), and also because I’m not used to hanging out with them and not flirting with them. Felt strange.

I left about eleven quite drunk and got home; and then I did the Bad Thing. I texted her and proposed a no-sex threesome in which he only had penetrative sex with her and not with me, which I know some couples do as a kind of halfway house between fully open and closed. But I got a no back; and not only a no, a “you asking this made me feel insecure and threatened”.

Of course it did. OF COURSE. I knew it would, or I would have known if I’d spent a few minutes thinking it through, thinking about why they were closed in the first place, thinking about how they were with each other that night, or even just thinking “I’m a bit drunk now this can wait until morning”. But I didn’t do any of that; I let my own libido – and let’s face it, my own deep, insecure, pressing need to feel wanted, my fear of change, and my tendency to use sex as a social crutch because I fail at people – control me at the expense of my friend’s wellbeing. That is not an okay thing to do, and I deeply ashamed of myself.

I think it’s going to be all right. I apologised as soon as I realised my mistake and she and I and have been exchanging casual texts about blogs and the news and such since. She is not the type of person to hold grudges for ages and I hope she realises that I didn’t mean any particular harm, I was just being really bloody stupid.

However. Being really bloody stupid is not a good reason for hurting your friends. I know pushing the boundaries of others’ relationships is not a good thing to do, and I went ahead and did it anyway. That was not cool, and although I can’t undo the shitty thing I did, I will try and not do it again.

April 4, 2013
Diary entry - 30/03/13 - The Magic Wand

I finally managed to get up to Cambridge to visit RM and AM last weekend. It was lovely to see them again; they are both fascinating people who are lovely to talk to and I haven’t seen them for far too long.

Anyway, um, middle middle middle, leftover Chinese food, MAGIC WAND.

Do you know about magic wands? Not the type from Harrow Potter, the other type. All it really is is a vibrating bulb on the end of a stick. The thing that makes it special is that it vibrates really, really, really fast and really, really, really powerfully. Often it’s plugged into the mains to facilitate this.

I have a love/hate relationship with magic wands. On the one hand, they are incredibly intense. On the other, they are incredibly intense. I am very easily overstimulated, to the point that further stimulation feels overwhelming and almost painful, in an unusual way that feels like the pleasure peaked so much it started going the other way into pain. It’s one of the reasons that oral sex often doesn’t do much for me. Magic wands epitomise that.

So when AM & RM tied my legs open to the bedposts and held the wand against my clit, I instantly started to thrash and scream. They live in a detached house, so I feel free to make as much noise as possible…but even so, I worried about the neighbours hearing.

I twisted to the side and ran into AM, wrapped my arms around him, bit into his shoulder and dug my nails into his back - then I swung to the other side and clung to RM - and then I reached behind me, arching my spine and grasping the headboard. I was in a spiral of torture and ecstasy, in the most intense pleasure of my life and yet longing for it to end. My legs were shaking, my voice rising, within me the pleasure building. I did not orgasm, because I never do unless I touch myself (I don’t know why), but I did reach a shuddering plateau that thundered through me and took my body completely from my control.

And then all of a sudden it was over and I was lying back on the bed, eyes shut, breath shallow, curled slightly while I waited to feel human again.

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