If It's Nearly The Holidays...

~back when I'm done~

Once More Unto The Kitchens...

Yep. It's time to dust off your baking pans, because on Wednesday, December 9th 2015,

The Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza returns!

And we'd like you (yes, you!) to join us.

It's easy to play along. 

Just post a recipe on that day for a holiday goodie -- any goodie. 

It doesn't have to be for cookies… or even be sweet.

We are equal opportunity treat lovers around here!

And…. that's pretty much all there is to it.

The single catch is that there's only one way to get your name in the official list of participants: You have to contact me by Monday, Dec. 7th, with both your name and the address of your blog.  

I'll also be happy to post a recipe for anyone who'd rather participate that way.

Hope to see you and your recipes soon!

In Which BG Tames the Lizard

(OK, "tames" might be too strong… it's not like the inner reptile has become completely domesticated. But it is back to sunning quietly on a rock, which is all I can ask, really.)

As I said, I hadn't shared my inner turmoil over his lack of jealousy. That would be just… well, silly. If the issue were something he had done or said, something he could actually control, that might be a different story. But you don't rail at someone for being the type of person they are. (Goodness, I'd have no friends at all if that were the case…!) No, you decide for yourself if you can handle the trait or not, and then respond appropriately. 

I did plan to discuss it with him at some point but I was waiting until I could achieve a comfortable, drama-free position on the whole situation.

The thing I always forget about this man?

      He is both intuitive in general and, more specifically, he understands me quite well. 

BG has a knack for instinctively knowing when I'm nearing the end of some tether or other and what he can to do to guide me back up the rope - all without me having to say a word. 

(Maybe I shouldn't be so amazed by this skill, but my experience with men has been that they generally have trouble seeing the world from outside their own framework. This isn't a right or wrong, it just means there's a lot more explaining that has to go on… and I hate having to explain myself. I'm much more comfortable interacting with someone who can get at least partway to my mindset all by himself.) 

But that's a tangent for another day.

Back to our story...

The time for Scene of the Week arrived and I'd calmed down enough that I was no longer in flight mode -- a bit of fragile uncertainty around the edges still, but nothing I couldn't ignore. 

I'm ready! Send me in, coach! 

Which he did, but not before kissing me legless. Then he moved on to strokes and praise, patience and dominance. Finally, he broke out the body part inventory. You know, the one that usually consists of a catechism of ownership…

"Whose ____ is this?" 

"Yours, sir" 

(only correct answer, no matter what the blank)

But this time, there were no questions...

Instead, I got declarative statements.

"This mouth wrapped around my cock?… is MINE.

These tits I'm mangling? … Mine.

That ass? That pussy? … Mine."

The distinction is small… but the difference it made was huge.

Claimed, valued, cared for…

The inner reptile gave a little sigh and settled right down.

A Very Tired Inner Reptile

Dominant as Lizard-Whisperer…

Who knew?!?

"Because I Like It" Wednesday

SP sent this, saying it was clearly written with me in mind…
And that he expected to see it on the blog.

Does this man know me, or what?!?

;-D

In Which I Become A Lizard

I managed to throw myself into quite the tailspin the other night.

I was teasing BG, asking if it would make him blink a bit to hear that I'd been holed up in a room, getting sweaty with two other men. 

(For a work task, nothing salacious - I was just being flip.)

"no… I'm not the jealous type"

Now, I already know he's not the jealous type… but somehow, on that night, those words crash-landed in my head as, "I don't care." 

As in, at all.

About me.

*WHAM!*

Down I went...

"I'm obviously not important to him then."

"If he cared, he'd give a damn"

"Not the jealous type or just not jealous of me?"

For the record, I know I'm mixing apples and oranges here.

   I know that's not at all what he said. 

   I know that some people genuinely don't feel sexual jealousy.

Welcome to my head, anyhow… it bothered me. A lot.

The funny thing is, I don't even want a jealous guy. It's a petty emotion and irksome to have to deal with, to say the least. I'm actually glad he's not the type.

Nor am I particularly so myself. I won't go all noble and superior on you and say I don't have a jealous bone in me… I do. But it's not something that rears up all that often, either.  

Yet despite all this cerebral knowledge, my tiny reptilian brain still insists on conflating jealousy and caring. 

(The same tiny reptilian brain that is responsible for "fight or flight", apparently -- because let me tell you what an effort it has been to just shut up and sit tight until the dang lizard calms down.) 

I know that one does not have anything to do with the other. People can be jealous of things they don't even value. Jealousy has no worth as a measure of caring.

I get this…

                 …but the inner reptile is struggling.

They're right… it's not easy being green...

The Unexpected Development

So…

the man who has never before shown any interest in orgasm control… 

     has decided I need to start edging.

My first assignment was to edge four times in the hour before he arrived.

Perhaps that is not much for the experienced amongst us.

     It about killed me.

Additionally, I also had to field texts from him during the process.

"how's it going?"

"bet you're getting frustrated, huh?"

"they seem to be taking less time, don't you think?"

"time to start again!"

Then I had to sit with all my jangling nerves pressed up against my new hitachi-clone...

     while giving him a blowjob.

"Oh, you're not allowed to come yet"

*GaaaaaAAAAaaaaaah!*

It's entirely possible that the words, "rat-bastard" may have run through my head...

Sometimes...

I was listening to an old interview with Mollena and while I don't remember the exact context in which this comment came up, she actually uttered the words, "God, I feel like a terrible submissive for even thinking this, but sometimes, I just want somebody to do me."

Thank you, Jeezus!

I realize that's not a particularly popular sentiment here in Lower-case Blogland, but surely there are more than two of us that feel that way? I mean, I really don't consider myself a selfish submissive… I genuinely do get off on pleasing my dom. I enjoy giving over to him, I enjoy letting him direct our every interaction, I love to make him happy.  

But submission is actually a lot of work. Work happily done, but work, nonetheless.

And sometimes, a girl just wants to lie back and get fucked. 

It doesn't have to be a vanilla fuck…, spanking and girl-slapping would still be A-OK. 

I don't need it to center around my pleasure.

Nor am I wanting to call the shots… that wouldn't be enjoyable, either.

It's just that sometimes, I don't want to have to do anything. 

Sometimes, I feel passively receptive, rather than actively submissive.

Or maybe this is just me…?