The Pervocracy: now collectible!

The fantabulous Ami Angelwings made these and if this isn't worth a post of its own, I don't know what is.

Model minority.

One of the subtler nastinesses about having an "alternative" lifestyle is the fear of revealing any personal conflict or angst to any "normal" people, even the nominally friendly ones, for fear that the answer will always be "See, this proves your whole lifestyle is flawed!"

If I'm arguing with my boyfriend, he's being a jerk or you two just need to work this out. If I'm arguing with my poly boyfriend, well, sounds like this poly thing just doesn't work in the long term, huh?

Retroactive pedophilia.

You know what's always a really awkward experience? Seeing pictures of someone you're sleeping with, when they were a child. Especially if they're the sort of person who didn't change much with age, so as a kid they kinda had the same face.

"Wow, I know exactly what that eight-year-old will look like in twenty years... with a cock in his mouth."

Weird.

Act without a name.

I wish there were some special word for the act of fucking someone with four fingers. (Er. I mean, using four fingers to fuck someone.) "Fingering" seems to imply only one or two fingers, and "fisting" requires getting your thumb in. I need a unique verb here. "Handing?" "Subfisting?"

Although I do kinda like calling it "fucking," because I think calling any kind of fucking other than penis-in-vagina "fucking" helps break down the "this is the only real sex" mythos. But I'd like a special word too.

Arbitrarily, I declare this to be "shucking." It's like a handshake, and it's like fucking. Shucking? Good enough.

I got shucked real good this morning. It's one of my favorite things. Not as much of a challenge as fisting, easier to do casually, but still way more intense than fingering. It's a very happy medium.

Awesome.

Kind of awesome: having a theme date.
Awesome: the theme is "Robo Date."
Very awesome: as in "let's have a date where we build a robot."
Super awesome: the date culminates in fucking involving, in keeping with the theme, a stainless steel dildo.
Wicked awesome: having completed the mechanics but not the electronics for the robot, we make a second date entitled "Solder & Sodomy."

Snowed in.

Due to heavy snow and a demanding schedule, I didn't go home today. A few other employees and I commandeered extra beds and slept in the hospital. Not terribly comfy, but safe.

It's sort of weird sleeping with your butt on an incontinence pad. I'm pretty sure I can hold it, thanks.

And it's a little pathetic how much willpower it requires for me to fall asleep without masturbating. It's not even horniness. (Well, it's that too.). It's just like trying to sleep without a glass of milk and my blanky, you know? It breaks the ritual.

Vidi, vici, veni.

I've always found the notion of sexual "conquest" kind of hilarious. You let someone see you naked, touch your most sensitive and private places, share in something as personal and vulnerable as your sexuality, and you've conquered them?

Oh yeah, I hit that, giggity giggity, that little hottie now knows that sometimes I cry a little when I come. Booya.

Spot of tea?

My friend was fucking his girlfriend doggy-style. I was underneath them, licking her pussy, and every few strokes he would pull out and I would suck his dick. As he thrusted away, with my tongue on the girl's clit, my face was right under his balls, feeling them gently slap at me over and over and over again.

"How was that for you, baby?"

"...Kind of like getting killed in Halo."

...Giant whiteboards?

Man, how did people ever manage polyamory before Google Calendar?

How to make Holly's head explode.

"If you make any noise, I'll stop."

Freely given.

It's a little scary at first, but awesome when I think about it, that Rowdy not only can but does get sex and love elsewhere.

Because he still wants to get it with me.

I don't want to be needed. I want to be wanted.

In Which Scientific Curiosity Is Stifled.

Hey Sprite, do you have a tampon?"
"Oh, of course, here's one."
"Thanks!  We're doing an experiment!  We figure that alcohol can absorb in by any mucous membrane, and the vagina is a mucous membrane, so we're going to soak the tampon in rum and stick it in me and see if I get drunk!  Also we're curious if it will hurt!"
"...Give me my tampon back."

Unstoppable force, immovable object.

You know what the not-so-great part is about being a girl who can have repeated orgasms in rapid succession, having sex with a guy who has both the muscular and sexual stamina to fuck for literally hours without stopping?

NOT A GOD DAMN THING.


ahhhhhh

The dreaded flipside.

I looked at PJ longingly. I could feel the lust behind my eyes, and the entirety of my body was subtly tightened, my breath catching just a little in my throat, my mind swimming with desire to feel him inside me.

"I want to fuck you," I said out loud.

"I don't want to," he said, gently. "I don't feel that way about you."

And it was okay. It hurt a bit at first, my ego and my libido both being large and sensitive areas, but it was okay because now I knew. I didn't have to watch him for secret signals and coded messages and "this is your big chance" moments, and I didn't have to send any of my own. Were we friends or was something else developing under the surface? We were friends. Over time this became not just okay but good, because it gave us the freedom to be friends. "Friend" may not be as much fun a role as "lover" when a sexy man is involved, but it beats the hell out of "lover-in-waiting."

The (completely imaginary) romance of silence.

I looked at Rowdy longingly. I could feel the lust behind my eyes, and the entirety of my body was subtly tightened, my breath catching just a little in my throat, my mind swimming with desire to feel him inside me.

He had no idea about any of this, because he's not psychic and I was pretty much just sitting there.

"I want to fuck you," I said out loud, and we fucked like there weren't no tomorrow.

Twenty Five.

It's my birthday! Yayyy!

I guess I'm a "cougar" now.

Good and Bad.

Good: Discovering that trading massages with Rowdy really is a "you mean I can have candy with every meal?" situation. (Except without the part where that would be kind of gross after two or three meals, and massages are perpetually awesome.)

Bad:
Abruptly coming down with a massive fever on the way to a play party. I really really really wanted to go, I was actually at a train terminal halfway there, and *WHAM* my body informs me that I'll be lucky to stay upright. (This "wham" later clocked in at 103.8F. Damn.) I wussed out and went home alone. Ugh.

The best text message I've gotten today.

"Did you want some pretense, or just skip ahead to the sex?"

"I'M KING OF THE WOOOORLD!"

Dear Internet,

Today I had sex at the midpoint of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Love,
Holly

rawr means i love you in dinosaur

"I'm pretending Rowdy's dick is different dinosaurs." [performs penis puppetry] "Rarrr. He's a pleisiosaur."

"He's a please-you-til-you're-sore."

"He's a lick-a-lotta-puss."