Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Shifting Limits, Seeking Balance

So when I showed my husband this week's Wicked Wednesday prompt:

...he laughed and said something like, "You put up that sign all the time...and then... you get drunk...."

Somehow, at that point, the "off" becomes a bit blurry and starts to look more like "no". Funny how that happens - a little liquid courage...or better yet, a little liquid freedom.

So, that led me to consider: freedom from what, exactly? Where does my inner censor come from? Because quite honestly, even sober, sometimes a particular thing sounds good - and then at another time, it totally turns my stomach and freaks me out, making me question my own desires.

And then, of course, there are limits that stop being limits through experience. A good example would be anal sex, for me. I can remember, all the way back to college when I had anal sex for the first time. It was awful. Just sad, really. He sort of just shoved (or tried to shove) his dick in there, sans lube (ouch!), and I spent the remainder of the night curled up in the fetal position feeling embarrassed disappointment. I was so traumatized, I didn't even attempt it again until I met my husband, in my late 20s. It still makes me blush to talk about it, but I must admit, I enjoy it, and while it is no longer off limits, talking about it in any sort of depth is still uncomfortable. Why? I have no idea. My inner prude seems to think I'm a total slut sometimes and that having anal sex - and liking it - is proof. Why I'm worried about what my inner prude thinks is beyond me, because my inner slut thinks she's a fucking bore.

What else has been off limits? Non-monogamy comes to mind. But that one goes up and down for me. Sometimes it sounds like a ton of fun. Other times, it just sounds like work and eventual, unavoidable disappointment. In connection, non-monogamous exploits in our town of residence is another "off limits" turned "aw, what the fuck...might as well." Non-monogamous interactions with co-workers? Bosses? Friends? Yah...been there, done all of it...and lived to tell about it...reputations and relationships all happily in-tact.

Pretty much nothing that I would once have deemed "off limits" has come back to bite me in the ass once I've tried it. My emotions about and reactions to some of those events have done me some damage, but the actual events have caused no lasting harm to my life.

In fact, I have to say, with my track record, it's a wonder I say no to anything. Because, aside from so many disappointing male swingers, trying new things has never led me to ruin. And yet...I still dig in my heels and freak out any time my husband wants to try something new.

Nobody puts baby in a corner...but baby sure as hell puts herself there on a regular basis...

Tie me up? Okay. Awesome. No. I changed my mind. Okay. Yes, please.

Wartenberg wheel? Ow. I don't know. Maybe. Tonight it works.! I can't take it! Let's try it again.

Discipline? Spanking? Makes me feel subjugated. Makes me feel impish. Makes me feel like disobeying more. Makes me feel indignant. Makes me feel horny. Spank me please! Fuck, that hurts. No more of that, please. I can't handle it any more.

Violet wand? Fuck no. Fuck no. Fuck no. ??? I don't know...maybe I could consider...maybe...if...

(Am I the only one with these weird bi-polar, shifting limits?)

Pretty much everything that I've tried, at one point in my was off limits. Can't have sex...turned into...Can't have sex until I'm 16 (I self-imposed that most of my limitations). Can't have sex with someone I don't love...turned into...Can't have sex with someone I don't know. Can't have oral sex...but it's okay with ____________. Can't have unprotected sex...unless you really trust him. Can't have anal sex...became...Won't have anal sex...became...Okay, I'll try again...became...Awesome. Can't have sex with married people...morphed into...Can't have sex with married people who are cheating. Can't have sex with more than one person at a time. Can't have sex with a woman. Can't have sex in public. Can't have group sex. Can't have sex with an audience. Can't be filmed having sex. Can't talk about sex publicly. Can't publish naked photos of myself.

Every sex-related "can't" or "won't" has, over time, turned into a possibility or a reality...even a preference. At this point in my life, I don't think I could honestly say" never" to anything sexual that was consensual. My only worry is the idea of having no limits. For some people, that might sound like a whole lot of fun and completely freeing. But it terrifies me. Where does it end? Where does the experimentation end? When does it go too far? Because it can. It can always go too far. I think I have a whole lot in common with my dog...who needs to have a small, enclosed space to feel safe while she sleeps. That's how I am with my sexploration.

I suppose it's all about finding balance, which can be tricky when you only have to deal with yourself. It can be near impossible when you have to consider the needs and wants of two.'s where Mr. LL and I are now - figuring out our limits, knowing those limits will shift with time, learning to be open to the changes. Well, I'll be honest...I'm learning to be open to the changes...or at least close my eyes, take his hands, wince, hold my breath, and trust him to lead me.

Now-a-days...the only things off limits in our sex life are sexual stagnation and avoidance of tough conversations about limits.

Monday, April 25, 2016

Under Surveillance

Misty gave her directive, "Call. Dave. Home," and the car's bluetooth obliged..."Calling Dave. Home."

"Yell-o...'sup, hon?"



"Just stuck in traffic, bored outta my mind."

"Ahhh...lookin' for some action, eh?"


"I could probably swing somethin'."

"Oh, yeah?"


"Like what?"

"Like...where are you?"

"Near exit 277. But, we're at a crawl...and I'm wearing a skirt."

"Good girl...makes things easy. Panties?"

"Could lose them quick and easy."

"Do it."

He waited a moment as he heard her rustling around a bit.


"Lick your fingers. Really suck on them...leave 'em wet..."

She did.

"Now rub them around your clit until it swells...but don't touch it directly. I want that sucker throbbing before you give in."

She was quiet, but obeying his every word.

"What's it look like?"

She slid her skirt to her waist, spread her legs, lifting one knee against the gear-shift and the other against the driver's side door.

"Wet...and very, very pink."

"Good. Are you still at a stand still?"

"Yep. Must be a wreck ahead."

"Too bad...their misfortune has led to our benefit..lick the first two fingers on your other hand and slip them in your cunt."

She followed his direction.

"Now, with your other hand, begin massaging your clit."

"This isn't easy in this space, Dave."

"Didn't promise easy, did I?"


"Didn't really ask, either..."

"Correct, as always, my love."

She stroked herself into a flurry of wetness.

"Is that your wet pussy I hear, serenading me?"

"Yes...I'm very, very wet. I'm likely to make a damn mess of the car seat."

"That's why we splurged on the leather, babe. Never question."

She gasped a bit as her breathing sped up. She could feel the tell-tale signs of her oncoming orgasm...the heat rising up her belly, across her chest, encircling her throat, like the ghost of his hand pressing her head against the headrest. Even from miles away, he could restrain her every move - play her like a theremin.

"You aren't allowed, Misty."

"Ah, Jesus,'ve gotta be kidding me...I'm so close..."

"Nope. Only me. So stop. Now."

"Okay..." she whined.

"I mean it." His voice was stern.

She begrudgingly removed her hands, pulling her skirt back down around her thighs, wiping her wet fingers on the soft fabric.

"How do you always know?"

"Because I know you...and I'm always watching."

She furrowed her brow into a questioning expression of playful annoyance.

"Well...are you at least home now...can we fuck the minute I walk in the door? Seriously...I'm fucking horny, Dave..."

"Not yet. Almost."

"Where are you?"

"Near exit 277."


Misty looked to her right...a blue Honda. She looked to the left...

"Ah...fuck you, Dave...did you record that whole fucking thing?"

"You betcha, sweet heart..."

He winked at her from the cab of his shiny, white Dodge Ram pick-up. And he left her with the same lecherous smile that had drawn her in all those years ago. had to write this I gave masturbating in the car another go recently. It's not easy. In can only really happen when stuck in our girl, Misty, here...or when on a nice, straight highway with the cruise control on.'s not the safest thing to be doing. But, there are times when a girl just has to try to get her rocks off. I was on a short expanse of highway, so there really wasn't much time. I knew I'd never get off, but there are moments when simply touching myself can release a bit of pent up tension. I even tried parking at Wal-mart...way out away from everyone else's finish the job. But, it didn't happen. Frustrated...I did my errands and managed to get my mind off of it. Nothing like shopping in Wal-mart to cool your desire right off.)