Things Not To Do, A Personal List

I haven’t updated in a long time. Not because I haven’t been writing, but because I haven’t managed to finish anything. So instead of finishing a nice good post for this blog, please enjoy this list.

Things I learned not to do in relationships:

• On the first mixed CD one makes a new partner (especially a female identified partner) don’t put Queen’s “Fat Bottom Girls” on the mix. Yes, it might be a good song, but as new partners, people are less likely to know where their partners’ body image issues come up, and said partners are less likely to know when something isn’t filled with meaning.
• People are not mind readers, if I want a person to know something, don’t keep thinking about it and getting upset that they don’t know anything about it.
• People make mistakes, but repetitive mistakes are patterns, and don’t do patterns that are unhealthy. Like breaking up and getting back together over and over again.
• Don’t cheat.
• Don’t lie about cheating.
• Don’t put up with a partner who abuses consent.
• Don’t believe anyone who makes excuses about the abuse of consent.
• Don’t be so careful around consent that nothing is ever initiated.
• I learned to not talk the way I think. Now, I’m not saying that I don’t speak my mind, I’m saying that people think differently from each other, and myself, well I definitely think differently than a lot of people. I had to learn not to talk like I think, because the way I think makes absolutely no sense to anyone else. Mostly because I think in abstractions, more than three dimensions, and on the rare occasions it is in words, it is not in complete sentences.
• Don’t forget to talk.
• Don’t be afraid of labels.
• Don’t be afraid of not having labels.
• Don’t accept terrible sex. If I want my partner to do something different ASK for it.
• Don’t assume worst intentions. This goes for everything from off-hand comments to serious conversations.
• Don’t stay with someone who doesn’t care if they are triggering. Especially if they repeat this behavior after having told them that it is triggering.
• Don’t judge their taste in movies, music, or books.
• Don’t hesitate to kiss someone after dating them for over a month, let alone after six.
• Don’t be afraid to make a move. And no, I’m not even referring to first moves here.
• Don’t sugar coat personality traits. I’m a snarky ass individual. Many exes of mine found this out 1-3 months after the break up, instead of when we were getting to know each other. Not a good thing.
• Don’t settle for something that’s completely unwanted. Example, don’t do monogamy when all I want is a poly relationship.
• Don’t be a doormat.
• Don’t let gender-slips slide.
• Don’t let partners shame me for being in pain. Be it migraine, knees, or any other of my potential problems, no one has a right to make me feel like crap because of my health. Don’t put up with it.
• Just because it’s hormonally based, doesn’t mean the emotion isn’t real. Don’t discount it, be it mine or a partner’s. Especially if I’ve managed to mess up my shots.
• Don’t stay with someone who thinks I’m a psychopath.
• If triggered and distant as a result, don’t forget to mention to a partner that something’s going on, even if it’s just to tell them that really, it isn’t their fault and I’m not about to break up with them.
• Don’t try to make out while rolling r’s. It really is just a terrible plan.
• Don’t bite down too hard. Don’t believe people when they claim they can take it if they haven’t had a bite from me before.
• Don’t ignore my instincts. When my inner red flag bullshit alarms go off, they’re right. Listen to them dammit.
• Don’t ignore friends saying “this is a terrible idea.” They’re right. They always are.
• Don’t tell partners they’re being immature, no matter how true it is. Really, there just isn’t a way that word is going to be heard well.
• Don’t put up with passive aggressive manipulation.
• People have to be their own autonomous individuals (barring M/s type agreements.) So, if they say something is okay to do, believe them even if you doubt it. Even if that means the day after having a long conversation about how it wasn’t actually okay, even though they thought it was ahead of time, I have to treat people I date as emotionally responsible adults.
• Don’t date people who aren’t emotionally responsible adults.
• Don’t date people back to back for 5-6 months each on a continuing basis. No, really, not a good idea.
• Don’t forget to laugh at the awkward, because there will always be awkward. And it’s damn funny.
• Don’t date someone who can’t tell I have a sense of humor.
• Don’t be afraid to be a baby dinosaur/puppy/dragon/cat/creature.
• When making/buying or otherwise planning on giving a partner a gift for a holiday/birthday, don’t forget to actually give it to them. Preferably that year.

Not all of these I learned the hard way, but many of the ones that seem obvious or ridiculous are probably on the list because of experience.

Some of the things I’ve said may not apply to you… but I thought y’all could appreciate them anyways. And now maybe that I’ve broken my lack of blogging streak again, I’ll manage to finish one of the damned myriad of other entries I’ve started.

Beyond Bisexual

I love the word queer, on many levels. From the fact that it encompasses more than just my sexuality, into my gender, and certain aspects of politics and community, to that it means odd. I’m more than a little odd, and I’m more than a little queer. I say queer, and people ask me what I mean.

Except in so many instances I dislike the word queer. It’s incredibly frustrating that those not familiar with queer communities don’t ask. It’s unfamiliar, confusing, and not helpful in connecting with different groups of people. More than that, I have huge issues with many parts of various queer communities. They can be self-isolating, unrealistic, judgemental, and occasionally vicious. That is true of most communities at one point or another. But as I’ve heard from strangers and friends recently, so often it is those in the queer (or kink, or other such) community that judges and turn in on each other. No one has come up with a way to keep out the assholes and douchebag.

Carol Queen used a term that I am coming to really enjoy. “Beyond Bisexual.” I don’t identify as bisexual, because I am interested in so many more people than just two of the variety of sexes or genders out there. Except, that is a word that a lot of people understand. There is a lot of meaning there, of biphobia from within straight and GL communities alike. Hell, even I’ve gotten the “so you’re greedy” comments many bisexuals get, and that was without even mentioning being poly.

I’m not exempt from the biphobia found within queer communities. In high school, I was very angry at this one group of girls who would get drunk and make out with other girls and call themselves bi. I dealt with so much shit. I was the school dyke, and anyone could take one look at me and tell. I got asked “are you a boy or a girl” walking down the halls. They got attention, positive attention. They got boyfriends from  those makeouts. It pissed me off. I had gone through confusion, harassment, etc., and they got none of it… and they weren’t “really” even bi! Yeah. I judged. I was one of those policing douchebags. I also grew up and got over myself. A lot about the situation in high school was fucked up, but getting angry because I thought of them as “supposedly bi” only contributed.

Once out of that situation, I chilled a lot. Many friends of mine in college did similar things, making out with their female friends while drunk… while having boyfriends. I didn’t get angry, hell I probably encouraged. A good number of them don’t identify as straight either. I didn’t even think about the connection until recently, at the 5 College Queer Sexuality and Gender Conference during the wonderful keynote by Michelle Tea. She brought up the drunken make-outs, how so many queers police those who partake in them, and that she herself started out that way. Between that, and something I do not recall that my friend next to me said, I started thinking about my role of policing queer identities in high school.

I’ve been on multiple sides of biphobia. I don’t want to discount it, but I also don’t want to discount my much broader sexuality, or risk obfuscating my own non-binary, non-spectrum, and very fluid gender identity. Beyond bisexual takes a word with a history, uses it as a launch pad, so I can go soaring towards the stars. Mainstream people can understand it enough to ask “what?” because it is grounded in a term they understand (whether or not they believe it exists.) Moreover, it’s a term that is specifically sexuality focused. I can use it, expand on it, without having to deal with my explaining my gender. Which is something that degenerates into fluid dynamics and 4 dimensional images of the universe.

Beyond is part of the title of this blog for a reason. It is an expansive word. Beyond bisexual can mean anything from attraction to more than two sexes/genders to going beyond attraction based on gender and into sexualities based more around specific kinks, personalities, etc.

One of the great things I learned about the word (prefix really) trans is that it doesn’t just mean across or on the opposite side… it means beyond. Trans lunar means beyond the orbit of the moon around the earth. Transcendent, transhumanism…

Yes, I’m a word nerd.

Strawberries and Roses

Another memory, because for some reason the words on today aren’t flowing. So, past-times it is.

They had a cigarette, and I remember staring. Watching the cherry light up as it went to their lips, remembering the taste of strawberries. I had quit, but one couldn’t hurt, right? They offered me the cigarette and I took it. Cloves, can’t buy them anymore. Not in the USA at least. But cloves linger on your lips, like strawberries.

It was surprisingly cold that night. We huddled together for warmth. I don’t remember why we were outside anymore. Waiting to get a ride, maybe it was for the cigarette. They smoked when they wanted, so we were outside, away from eyes. They handed me a cigarette, and I took it, breathing in the deadly smoke, and watching the swirls spiral from the end of the cigarette itself, I felt at peace. I know why they offered, why they handed it to me. It’s hell to kiss a smoker if you aren’t one. They knew it too.

I remember sitting there on the stone, the smoke gone but strawberries lingering on my lips, and one of us made a move. I saw it coming, huddling for warmth, I remember thinking we’d kiss that night on sitting on that cold stone. Which one of us did it? I dont’ know. I do remember their lips on mine, the strawberry taste fading fast from both of us. We sat there, kissing, unsure of where was okay to touch. My binder, their binder… we didn’t know what the rules were, so we just sat on the cold stone and kissed until the strawberries were forgotten.

If one was to count each time I’ve quit smoking, there is a minimum of four times. And now, I call myself quit, but I do allow myself two cigarettes a year. I invented that rule eventually. Each year, two cigarettes. So far, it has come down to having one due to excess stress, like completely a true hell week for a theater production or getting dumped, and one for rather unfathomable reasons. Each year since that rule was made, one for stress, one for ‘other’ reasons. I haven’t had one yet this year. If I make it through February without having one of those two, it’ll be a new accomplishment.

As much as I miss the taste of strawberries on my lips, all the memories of them are really bittersweet. I’m rather glad that even if I do smoke, that it wouldn’t be cloves again. And besides, rose hookah does taste a whole lot better than any kind of cigarette ever did.

Impending Feeling of Certainty

I’m both a very impulsive person, and someone who thinks things through excessively. I like contradictions. Or rather apparent contradictions. As much as I’m an easy going person (never ask me where we should go for dinner when hanging out, because 99% of the time I truly have no preference and will NOT make the decision) I get incredibly stubborn once I have decided something. I don’t decide things about the world usually, I have thoughts and ideas, but few decisions. I like the flexibility, the mutability, of my world view. I like options, and exploring all of them.

But when I decide things, it usually seems out of no where, and I stick by that decision. A good example is when I was picking colleges. I toured a bunch, and had a top 3 list, and a “never going here” list, but one day in either September or October, I randomly decided that my top school was definitely my top school and that I would apply there ED. It was out of no where enough that it caused some arguing with my mom, but I had decided. I never applied anywhere else, mostly because I was lucky and got in. But I went from considering all these options, from saying repeatedly that I’d be happy at my top school, my safety schools, that I could be happy at any of these schools, to only wanting one. I had decided.

I keep hoping that one of these day’s I’ll decide what I want to do (as in job) in the next five years of my life. I spend the time thinking about it, but that leads not to decisions, but more thoughts, and more thoughts.

I decided I would go on T years ago. The only question was when. It was something I put off and put off, but once I had decided it was time, I called up and got my appointment. Please note- I don’t like making phone calls. I called to order pizza for the first time in my life in the last few weeks, because I will do pretty much anything in order to avoid calling a stranger (or even someone I know who I don’t call often.) Once I decided it was time, I just did it.

About my only exception to making decisions is when I used to make promises to myself. That past tense is very intentional. These days I’m pretty good about holding myself accountable to goals and such, but I don’t ever make a promise to myself. Mostly because every single one made to myself I’ve broken. From never smoking cigarettes, to never hooking up with a specific person (done more than once), to never crying in front of C again, to never breaking another promise to myself. All of them weren’t just broken, more like shattered into a thousand pieces. So, no more promises to myself. I don’t want to break them, so I don’t make them and even have that on the table. I do my best, and strive to do better each time, promise or no. Fuck absolutism.

I feel like I’m about to decide something. It feels vaguely like an “impending feeling of doom” but without the doom and with a weird feeling of certainty. Weird in that I have absolutely no idea what I’m certain about.

But hey, at least it’s an update.

Under the Jungle Gym

For some reason I’m not succeeding in writing about current things in my life, little though there may be, so I shall write a memory. Sure, it may be filled in here or there, but I never claimed to have a good memory. But it is rather ingrained in my mind…

It was one of those nights where it was cold-though-not-exactly-winter. Maybe it was a February thaw, maybe it was a cold night in march. We walked, hand in hand, except when our hands broke for a grope, a kiss, a shove, a scratch… anything really. Our hands were all over each other. We walked to the playground, just to be outside, without parents. To not fuck in the car, again. We walked to the plastic playground, lit by the moon and a yellow street lamp casting shadows of trees.

Under the jungle gym, she shoved me up against the plastic tic-tac-toe, and quickly reached under my shirt. She kissed me, hard, as she twisted my nipple, hard. She didn’t do things by halves. She leaned in again, this time going for my neck, biting down and adding to my bruises there. My hands found their way under her jacket and shirt, my nails leaving red trails across her back.

But mostly I remember the moon, and her hand unzipping my jeans and without pulling them down, finding their way under my underwear and sliding inside me. I mostly remember the moon, and the feel as her other hand slid around my neck and began to squeeze.

I stopped breathing. I stopped trying to breathe. I could have still, I think, but I didn’t even try to find out.

She let go for a moment, and I took a few breaths, nodding to her to put her hand back. She squeezed harder that second time, and longer. I closed my eyes, closed myself off from the world. No sight, no breath, and everything began to fade to white as I got off.

I don’t remember the feel of her fingers inside me that night. I don’t remember how she sucked and bit my neck, or how she twisted my nipple, just that she did. I remember how her hand felt, that first time someone took my breath out of the equation.

The next day at school, no one noticed the bruises from her hand mixed in among the hickies. And that was the way I wanted it.

Review: Blue Riding Crop

The new year brings in a new post! And a determination to not disappear again.

At 26 inches, this pretty blue riding crop is quite a bit longer than the one I already had (which was more like 13.) I really enjoy riding crops, and had got S to appreciate them as well, so I was quite happy when Fascinations sent me this one.

It has a nicely textured rubber handle that helps keep a good grip, and the shaft is a really beautiful blue, which makes it easier to find admidst my black clothing, floggers, and other such things. The tip is leather, and soft enough that it won’t cause any unexpected, or unintended, damage. Also as it was longer and the shaft seemed thinner than my old crop, I figured it would be swishier (I was right.) All in all, I was ready to enjoy it, and it met my expectations exactly.

What made this crop particularly different from my previous one, is that this crop is very swishy. That swishy translated to more stingy. Now, I don’t usually like stingy toys to be used on me, but I very much enjoy using this crop on others, and have even enjoyed it on myself. It is fairly intense, though that depends in part on the way it is wielded. Also, due to the narrow head, can be used to hit very specific body parts, like a person’s nipples. This application is where I feel the crop excels. Targeting specific spots, like nipples (clamped for the sadists out there) or the clit, creates a delightful sting. I don’t usually like stingy pain but targeted on my nipples this crop caused lots of fun squirming. I couldn’t even pull of pretending to not like it for the sake of protesting, it was fun.

Like any impact toy, please practice on an object like a pillow before taking it to someone’s body. It is important to know how and where it will hit, as well as have some sense of how hard you’re hitting. Also, it’s nice to know how it will feel in your hand. Remember: broken bottom = bad top.

Post Movie Late Night Musings

Tomorrow, I get to act like a fool (in a good way,) spend time with good friends, be with S, and probably even dance. Which might have something to do with the fool part. Tonight, I spent time with friends and had a blast at a movie. Today, I had a good day with my mom. Yesterday, I got a bit more of my life in order. Things fall into place.

Maybe, maybe not. The puzzle pieces are going together and everyone keeps asking me what the picture is. Y’know what? I don’t know yet either. (/bad metaphor.)

I have never wanted my life to be an 80s movie. At times, I have wanted moments from certain films, but they were always 90s movies. Yeah, I’m a 90s kind of person, what can I say. But, somehow along the way my romantic, movie-esque side got squashed. In high school I aptly refered to myself as, “A romantic who’s hopeless, and probably a hopeless romantic.” Also, that line turned out to be great for online profiles at the time. Regardless, I gave flowers to the girls I dated, in fact I gave them their favorite types. I learned how to say ‘I love you’ in a ridiculous number of languages, as well as the different gendered ways to say it in each depending on how I felt any given day. Yeah, over-the-top high school romance. I did it. Badly, often. Cliche at times. But highly entertaining, and if nothing else, it was a lot of life crammed into some really hellish years.

Romanticism died. I used to have songs for everyone I dated, but that hasn’t happened recently. My last big romantic moment I threw away on a girl who it turned out wasn’t worth it, though I can’t actually regret the choices I made. Maybe I’m just jaded, and interested more in the slap, the bite, the dance against the wall in a room so crowded I’m grinding as much with the person behind me as S in front of me. Sure, it can be romanticized, but somewhere along the way, I buried that piece again.

Because part of me will always have a soft spot for candle lit nights, even though I want that hot wax dripped across bodies throughout it as well.

Dating requires a certain amount of self-assertion, of putting oneself out there enough to get rejected. Except the rejection I can handle, it is the self-advertising bit I’m not so great at. I’ve always let others come to me, rarely gone after anyone. I can’t advertise myself though. Self promotion is why I fail at cover letters, and only after a good amount of training could manage interviews. I don’t do it well, much like I don’t take compliments particularly well. I blush, and get shy and embarrassed because I have absolutely no idea how to react. Trying to compliment myself? Yeah. Not happening.

Somehow all of this relates in my head, besides just being under the category of ‘dating/hook ups/relationships/etc.’ My mind connects my lack of romance to my lack of self promotion… that there is a causation somewhere in there that is significant.

Just haven’t found that significance yet.

Review: Pink Water (Lube)

For my second review, I’m working with what I personally think is one of the most important things for sex, lube. Fascinations was awesome and sent me some of the Pink Water.

First of all, the ingredients. It is water based, so safe to use with all safer sex materials and toys, and is glycerin free (yay!) but does have parabens (sad face.) Good for me, but if you are sensitive to parabens, probably not the lube for you. (Also, it has Aloe, which I can never quite figure out what it does besides soothe sunburns.)

My favorite part about Pink Water is definite the dispenser. I love when there is no fiddling around with a lid to get more lube, just push down and there it is in your hand. Other than that, I’m not big on the packaging. I’m not really a pink person, and the gendered packaging that Empower Products has for Pink and Gun Oil bothers me (because they gender those two in a stereotypical way.) Pink Water does not have to specifically be gendered, but it says “water-based lubricant for Women.” Pink does not automatically mean women! (Although, my main association with the color pink is CodePink… but that is another story.) But the branding and the parabens are probably the only two problems I have with it.

Because I really do enjoy this lube. I like the texture, the thickness, and I think it lasts a lot longer than the sliquid lube I use most often. It is definitely thicker and has more cushion than the sliquids I’ve tried (that would be most) and it lasts nicely for a water based lube. Also, like other water based lubes, when it dries out, water, more lube, or saliva will reinvigorate it.

There isn’t any smell, which is nice; however, the taste isn’t so great. It tastes a bit bitter, though I personally think it is better than Maximus on that front, it definitely does not have Maximus’ cushion. But I like the texture better because it definitely feels like a water based lube. It feels like water, just in a thicker, more cushioned way.

Lube was something I never used to need much of, because until I started on testosterone, I didn’t need it very often. Now though? It’s become important. And it does feel great to use. So, if you aren’t sensitive to parabens, and are looking for a good water-based lube, I’d highly recommend Pink Water.

Thank you Fascinations!

My First Floating World

Sorry for the lack of updates, been recovering/getting life in order so that I don’t accidentally end up having such large gaps in entries. But, the other weekend I attended the Floating World 2010, and had a blast. So here is my entry on it!

I don’t quite know when I started thinking about myself as a kinkster, as someone in the BDSM scene. I mean yeah, the first physical relationship I had included the obvious BDSM characteristics like a safeword, and there was definitely kinky play, like knives, choking/breath play, hitting, scratching, biting, and intentionally drawing blood. But as of FW, I had only been “in” the more public BDSM scene, the community, for like six months. I had been to one major event (the winter Fetish Flea) one play party (in NYC) and sure I talked about things at KinkForAlls, and yeah I did go to the summer Flea, I still feel very like a new comer.I know the words, the gestures, anything I could have read about the community… but being a part of that community is a new thing. So, I pushed myself. I felt uncomfortable, and pushed myself. And I’m really glad I went.

There were massive number of classes, some of which I attended, many of which I did not simply because it was not possible. Classes began at 9:30am and went until 12:30am with breaks for lunch and dinner… but still, that is a ton of classes. Needless to say, I want to many of them.

Classes

The first class I made it to was run be the fabulous Lee Harrington, and was called “Inner Monster: Tops.” Basically, it was a chance to sit down in a room full of tops/doms/dommes/masters/etc. (and switches speaking from that perspective) and talk about all the things that we in the BDSM and kink community don’t talk about. We talked about the taboos of our little world, from not giving aftercare to nonconsensual situations. In many ways, it dramatically altered how I looked at the rest of my time at FW. I began thinking a lot more about what was being said and what was not, looking at how certain assumptions about “how things should work” existed in our quaint little isolated culture. It also began my semi-stalking of Lee Harrington for the con.

The next class I went to was by Cleo Dubois, which I went to because it seemed like it would help me with topping/doming. Instead it was a kind of bleh presentation with a power point… and then a fairly cool scene. The things I got out of it were eye contact can be a great tool, and making people reenter a space if you don’t think they are in the right mindset can also help a lot. Oh yeah, and zippers rock.

Then, after dinner and meet & greets, I went to Dov’s class on mindfucks. It was fun, though I was a bit sad that S went to that class with me simply because the whole point was mindfucks made easy… which really aren’t as easy when the person I’d be mindfucking is sitting next to me. After that, we went to the super cool class on FtM CBT. Yes, there was a class on cock and ball torture for people like me. And it was awesome. It was run by Lee Harrington and Bo Blaze, and they talked about everything from how for some people this could mean putting needles through their packer, while for some it could mean putting needles through their actual bits. S got a lot of evil ideas from this class. Apparently she got a whole list of ideas, though I have yet to see/hear/feel them. We’ll probably go over it soon.

The next day I woke up early, just to go to the “Making Leather” class. It was good. Little to say about it other than that it was exactly what I expected and wanted- an intro class on making stuff out of leather and talking a bit about the tools and leather and places to get both without paying too much money. That day also had me attending a class by Barbara Carrellas on breathing. Yes, breathing. It was a cool class, but I think to really get a lot out of it I’d need to spend a lot more time working with her on my breathing. Though I did learn that orgasms from breathing alone are actually possible, as in, Barbara has sat in an MRI machine which showed her brain registering an orgasm without stimulation besides breath. That, I thought, was awesome.

Later, I went to a fabulous class run by Mollena, who wore her “International Ms. Leather 2010″ and began the class by walking around and personally introducing herself/saying hello and shaking the hand of everyone in the room. That alone kicked ass. And then she started talking, and engaging with the ‘audience.’ It was about boundaries, about what those words mean, how people mean different things by words like “limit” or especially “hard limit.” She was fabulous. People were bringing up cool things. And again, Mollena was awesome, had great stories, and told them hilariously. Needless to say, after such a great presentation, I stayed in the room, and enjoyed another Lee Harrington class (he had been in Mo’s class as well… oops?) about energy exchange and how we focus so much on safe sex, but not on safer magickal sex. It was awesome, and I got up the nerve to actually ask a question relevent to my life. Someone had asked about how to stop attracting toxic people, and my question was what about being attracted to toxic people? Lee’s response boiled down to that’s a class (at least) by itself, here are some things to go read.

That night I played with puppies. Go read about it below.

The next day I slept in because I was a very tired xMech… and then went to a fabulous class called “Creative Disobedience: the Art of Being A Wiseass.” I liked Zac’s comment to me about this, “You needed this class why exactly?” It was so much fun, and the presenter, Laura Antoniou, was truly entertaining. There were delightful stories, there was frank honesty, and there was fabulous movie references. “I’m shocked, shocked to find cocksucking going on in here.” (props to whoever knows that movie.) Kept making me think about how often I used to quote movies in a wiseass manner, and how I really should start doing so again. Then I went to another fun workshop, this time by Scot, on Liquid Latex. It was a lot of fun. Scot is a lot of fun. And, as it turns out, is friends with my friends. But we got to watch a hot girl get covered in liquid latex, and then as it was peeled/torn off. It was fun. By that night, I was again exhausted. So, I went to low key classes, like Wendy Blackheart’s Buttsex, which I went to because Wendy is awesome, and buttsex is always fun, and I didn’t need to pay attention to the basics, just keep an ear open for things I didn’t already know. Same goes for the final class I attended, which was Dov’s class on knives. He had pretty knives. Also, I want a straight razor. Maybe I’ll even start shaving with it.

So that was the classes I went to. The abbreviated edition. There will be entries to come inspired by thoughts from those classes. If you have any probing questions, feel free to comment/email and ask :D.

Dungeon

I was not big on the dungeon. Part of this was simply that I am uncomfortable with my own body and having my shirt and binder off in such a public space, which severely limits the ability for S to top me. The bigger issue for me was the lights and sound. The lights were really contrasty between the darkened ceiling, the bright lights, and the reflective tendencies of the floor. Also, lots of loud music. There wasn’t a quiet corner, or at least, quiet enough for my overly sensitive head. Needless to say, after the first night, I took some Excedrin from Tylerpup, and had a much better time.

However, there was a lot of really cool stuff in the dungeon. There was suspension frames, there was essentially a jungle gym looking thing, there was a play area, there was a pony area, there was a medical area, st. andrews crosses scattered about, and at one point, a ten person suspension on Zac’s 2 ton frame. That was an impressive moment. Also, I had fun walking around and seeing the little things I had done/the things I had helped build. Even though I didn’t play particularly much in the dungeon, there was an energy to the room, a feeling just from walking around, and it made me happy to be there, surrounded by fellow kinksters, perverts, and deviants.

That first night though, found me and S in the back area, where it was a bit darker, cuddling, and talking a bit. She’d have to jog my memory for me to know what we were talking about (as my memory is like swiss cheese) but I remember the mood I was in then. It was pensive, vaguely depressive, dark, relaxed, tired, pained, and analytical. Not really the best mood for public play, though common enough for my head.

The second night, however, was a blast. I had leashed S, and we went off to wander the dungeon, perhaps for inspiration. We ended up near where friends were their puppy selves, romping around on a mat, watched over by two owners. S went into kitty mode (if she wasn’t already) when it was decided we’d stay and play. After a bit, I asked her if she wanted Creature to come out, and she replied with a strong affirmative. So, I took off my shirt, and thought a moment, and started romping with puppies as Creature, in my binder. We all got a lot of “Aws” and a lot of cute responses. It was a lot of fun to play with the puppies and the kitty. There was lots of biting, some scratching. And a ton of scritches. So many scritches. And I was a happy Creature who kept getting scritches, and had adorable (and hot) puppies and a kitty to play with. And they all seemed to like my creature noises.

After that, thought it wasn’t in the dungeon, we briefly went to the pool party. As I hate being submerged in water, i just sat with my feet in the water. Lots of nudity. It was fun, and then bed.

Oh, I also got hypnotized at one point.

People

I met a lot of fabulous people. Made friends, got closer to people I had met before, things like that. Amusing moments included when a friend apparently realized/found out that I’m trans, on Saturday. So the second day of the conference, and we had hung out over the summer, and every mutual friend we have knows… somehow he didn’t actually know. Apparently he guessed, but only because I look so young for my age (I’m lucky if people think I’m 18 or 19… which is a problem when I’m buying alcohol.)

When I first checked in, we were all told to sign the release with our vanilla name, our “real” name, our legal name. For some in the BDSM scene, their real name is their scene name not their legal name. And for those like me? I mean, my “real name” is one thing, which is different from my “legal” name (as I have not yet gotten a legal name change), which is completely different from my scene and blog name (xMech.) They did not do well at specifying what name initially. Then when I got up to deal with registration, the person behind the table checking me in starting talking at me about how I could get my gender marker changed on my passport, as some family member of theirs did. I walked away thinking, “Well, you’re trying at least? But really, wtf- my legal gender marker is none of your damn business.” Also, there are complications, and yes, I did know they had recently made it easier to change on passports. Wasn’t the best impression I got at FW. On the upside, I definitely had many better.

I got lots of scritches, and some bites. I got to give quite a few bites as well.

At one point, over some meal or other, I was sitting down with some of my more newly made friends and a person I didn’t really know, and the topic ended up on anti-war activism. It was interesting, because I’m pretty sure I’d actually met the person I didn’t know before, but wasn’t up for the whole “So I was in DC at this time, at this event, where I think we met through this organization” and instead went with “So you know my friend so-and-so?” Which she did. Trust me to go to a kink convention and end up in a really engaging discussion about anti-war and peace activism and the military industrial complex. Also, we talked about food. My kind of conversation. My kind of people.

Sadly, one of the people I was sharing a hotel with got sick right before FW. Turns out, it was whooping-cough. So we were down a person in the hotel room, but even worse, Zac lost his vender’s assistant. I stepped in at one point, and held down the fort with Tylerpup to give him a break. Met some fun new people that way, also got to play around a bit with some of his stuff, which is always fun.

~~

Lots of fun things happened. I’m really glad I went. Even though there were moments, like of me being exhausted, or feeling uncomfortable, where I wasn’t having a blast, I learned a lot, and pushed on my boundaries. I got a sense of where many more of my boundaries were. So that is my long overdue write up on floating world! I should be back on track to writing a lot more frequently again. Hopefully I won’t have another giant down month like August was anytime soon!

Answers with an Agenda 11- Toys!

So, you have some ideas about what to do with that lovely other cunt-owning new partner, you’ve played around, but… to quote the fabulous movie Better Than Chocolate, “What’s with all those toys?” Actually, this is still a continuation from the last two weeks’ question:

How do two girls have sex? (Or… two people with cunts)

Because “lesbian sex” is very associated with toys, I figured I’d go into a bit about said toys. The reason there are so many toys great for cunt owners could be because of our society’s obsession with dicks, and so not having one requires “more” effort, ingenuity, or something. I’d like to think it is because we’ve gotten really inventive and are having a blast making toys.

Maybe your partner really enjoys you rubbing their clit, but after an hour your hand is tired. This is why vibrators were invented (well, sorta.) There are a wide range of vibrators great for getting them off, from the super-intense hitachi to the cute caterpillar.

Yeah, I’m amused by it. Anyways, a very important issue with vibrators is the intensity. Too light, and you can’t feel anything. Too much, and it can be painful or distracting. A recommendation I’ve heard is turn on the vibratory and touch it to the tip of your nose. If you sneeze, it is too intense. I don’t find this particularly useful myself, finding that I prefer something stronger than that, though usually less intense than the hitachi, so a variable speed vibe is often a great investment. That way, you can pick up the intensity or lighten up depending on the day and what you and your partner feel like.

Then there are the dildos. They come in all shapes and sizes and colors, but I would say the most important thing is the material (see below.) Dildos can be realistic, in color, hardness, etc, or they can be delightfully non realistic. You can pick your prefered size, color, texture… so if realistic dildos sketch you out (I was on the border of being squicked by them for years) you can get something that only has a superficial resemblance to a bio-cock. As far as sizing goes, there are two considerations, (insertable) length and width. It is better to er on the side of too long than too short, because you can always not slide it in all the way, but it is not fun to have too little length. Width depends, some people are “size queens” and love something very thick. Personally, I’m set with the small end of the pure wand, so I prefer the narrower range of toys. It just depends on the person. Shape matters a lot. If your partner enjoys g-spot or c-spot stimulation, something with a nice curve is probably up your alley (like said aforementioned pure wand.) Some people like their dildos textured, others smooth. That is also where material is a good thing. Some can even be worn strapped on.

Strap on harnesses have two main styles. They either come in G-string style, which look a lot like thong underwear, or two-strap style, which look like a jock strap. They range in materials, leather, fake leather, rubber, latex, etc. I’d recommend something that feels comfortable to you. Though a lot of people seem to love the g-string style, I like the two string because it enables a lot more access to the wearer’s cunt while they are wearing the harness. You can also tie a rope harness, if you happen to have rope around but no harness (great for those of us who like bondage.) The other advantage to rope is that you can make it according to your size, whereas bought harnesses do not fit all body sizes and types, so pay attention when buying.

There are also ‘harnesses’ for other areas of the body, from hand harnesses, so you don’t have to grip the dildo, to thigh harnesses, making grinding against a person’s leg even more delightfully fun. Keep an open mind is all, as some people can be rather taken aback the first time they encounter a chin harness.

In addition to dildos, there are anal specific toys. The most important, basic rule of ass toys is that they need a flange on the end. Something to stop the toy from continuing to get pulled up into your ass. The ER doctors have probably seen it before, but do you really want to be that person who went to the ER for shoving something up their ass and getting it stuck? Not to mention, such things can tear the lining of your intestine. So, make sure it has a flange! Also, see below on material safety. Butt plugs come in a variety of materials and sizes, go for what sounds good to you and your partner. If the person being penetrated hasn’t done much or any ass play before, start small, go slow, and use lots of lube. As in, go overboard. Better than too little, really. Anyways, in addition to butt plugs and dildos, there are also anal beads, which when pulled out can simulate orgasm sensations, thus a large part of their appeal. Make sure however, that the beads are connected by silicone or other safe material. Beads strung together on actual string is a terrible plan, as all kinds of nasty bugs can lodge in the string.

With all toys, however, you need to pay attention to the material that it is made out of. Sex toys are best when made from non-porous, non-toxic, and phthalate free. Such materials include medical grade silicone, metal, and glass. Now, sex toys shouldn’t be porous because then they are not able to be disinfected, which means you can pick up not only STIs, but also yeast infections, or even a cold. Non-toxic toys ought to be used for the very simple reason that toxic materials should not be in contact with your body, let alone genitals, and soft mucous membranes such as the inside of a cunt. Phthalates are a specific type of toxic material that has been banned from children’s toys in the US, so making sure a toy is specifically phthalate free goes a long way for the toxicity problems.

Metal and glass both have the advantage of being incredibly smooth, meaning that much less lube goes a long way. They are often very pretty as well. However, they have zero yield, and though it is often a boon to some people, the hardness can be both too intense and no as much fun for others. Also, it can be easy to bruise with them. Silicone ranges in hardness, from traditionally very hard silicone toys, to the delightfully giving Vixskin. One other quick thing about material is that it is a bad plan to use silicone lube with silicone toys. The lube will alter the toy in bad ways, creating a ‘melting’ sort of effect. Just something to watch out for.

Material is not the only place to be extra careful about safety. There are a few very important things to keep in mind. First of all, never take a toy directly out of someone’s ass and shove it in their cunt. The toy needs to be cleaned off first! If you don’t want to have to clean toys? Use condoms. It is a great, effective, and easy way to share toys between holes, and between partners in a quick manner without having to boil or bleach said toys each time.

Maybe though you prefer sensation play. A feather can be a great sex toy, as can soft fur, or a nice flogger. The limit on what can be a sex toy is mostly limited by your imagination and preferences. Open mindedness and creativity really pay off.

So, that is a brief overview of sex toys. There is so much to say, I’m going to leave it at that, but if you want to know more, try finding a good, sex positive store in your location. You can not just browse, but ask questions, get help, and even fondle the toys you’re looking at! There are great stores in Seattle, San Fransisco, Denver, New York, Chicago, Madison (WI), Baltimore, and plenty others! Definitely worth investigating.