I like you.
I don’t tend to respond to that for the first time. When someone first changes the declaration of their feelings I dislike reciprocating immediately. “I like you” “I hate you” “I love you” “I long for you” “I am displeased by you”. When someone tells me they like me, my initial reaction is “Oh, how odd.” The standard response is “I like you too.” but I feel really weird saying that because it feels like a stock reply. No thought or feeling has really gone into it. If I told someone I liked them for the first time and their immediate response is “I like you too” I can’t help but doubt them. I will wonder if the response happened simply because they do not DISlike me and it just seemed like the right thing to say.
So when someone says, “I like you” I think “thank you” or “i’m glad” could be a perfectly legitimate response and the first person shouldn’t be butthurt over it. I think statements of feelings are more sincere when they are being felt due to a specific situation and not the stress of a reaction.
TL;DR – socially programmed auto responses are often insincere and will be questioned.
and then the next day
We can watch movies, or look at interesting things online. There will be a sleeping cat or two. There should be hot coco or tea. Our bodies will touch somehow, perhaps our knees relax toward each other, or maybe we are snuggled into each other. A trip to the playground happened earlier. The cold we endured there was what prompted the hot drinks which you told me to make. This too I want… Do you need the brutal humiliating sex? Do I need it? Who needs the comfort of a normal and cozy day? I can’t tell where one begins and the other ends. I know I want column a, column b, and heck any of the other columns from c to zed. Can I enjoy them if I don’t believe that it is what you truly want? I do not think so. I do know I think of them though.
For you, I will.
I want my partner to lace their fingers in my hair just above the nape of my neck. I want them to kiss me keeping me from going to dep, keeping me from pulling away. I want them to bend over so that I’m forced down on my hands and knees. Our faces inevitably broken of physical contact, but not of visual contact. There’s a hint of a smile on the lips but some combination of distant and evil playing across the eyes.
“Lick them” The command is given. I’m not into feet, I’m not a shoe licker, but that’s what makes it hot. I don’t do this for myself, but to please them and so I do. I lick with the tips of my tongue, I lick with the full flat. I make contact long enough that the warmth of my tongue can be felt through the shoe. It tastes grose. It smells like shoe and leather. But when they pull my head back to look into my eyes, they are pleased. I obeyed and I did it with as much enthusiasm and grace as I could muster.
They pull me up and push my head towards their groin. I orally please them, sucking and licking on their delicate bits. I can tell when I find the right spots because there’s a soft noise that escapes their lips and their grip on my hair tightens until it hurts. I wince but I do not stop until they shove me away. “Trying to make me come already?”
They smack my face. There’s no reason for it. No hate, no punishment. It’s simply because they can. I fall back slightly because of the impact, but I right myself and look back into their eyes. “How may I please you next?” The words are not spoken but they are plain across my face.
“Up.” I stand up.
“Turn.” I turn away from my partner.
They grab my hips with their left hand, their right hand pushes my face down onto the surface infront of me. They bend over and whisper into the crook of my neck, “You’re going to take it all aren’t you?”. Fingers start entering me. one, two, three… There’s some movement and wiggling as my wetness is distributed then the onslaught continues, four fingers now, all of them sliding in and out of me easily. The thumbis tucked and there’s pushing. I arch my back trying to pull myself away from the invading hand, but an arm is rested across my back to push me back into place. The dreaded 5th knuckle forces itself past and there’s a hand inside of me. I’m barely given time to breath when it starts moving inside me. They try to withdraw their hand but my body will not give it up so easily. Their free hand slides back into my hair and grabs. They pull their hand free of my body. I sigh. They shove their hand back inside me. This time it’s not a slow build up. My defenses are down and they are fucking me with their hand. I’m moaning.
“Fuck my hand”
I start rocking my body forward and backwards sliding their hand in and out of myself. At first its tender, but as I comply I feel myself getting turned on. My body is lubricating itself for what is to come. I slide forwards off their hand and when I move backwards to re-impale myself, there’s no longer a thin hand there but a fist. I pause for a second.
“Do not stop.”
I push my body backwards on the fist. The gentle slope from fingertips to knuckles is gone and replaced with the blunt width of a full hand, as I force my body back onto it, accepting it inside of me, for them. After taking the fist inside of me a few times I can feel the repeated exposure to air is drying up my lubrication. No relief still..
“Do not fucking stop.”
I wince as my labia become dry and sore. I whimper “ow” as they fist fuck me. I return to being prone under their arm. I want them to hurt me so they can feel good.
Finally, as tears start leaking out of my eyes, they stop. They pull me up to face them. They wipe their hand off on my face, smearing my tears and wetness together, sticking my hair to my cheek.
“Can you take everything?”
They pull me close as if to embrace me. One arm wraps around my upper back. The other hand finds it’s way to my ass. Two non-lubricated fingers penetrate my rear and pull up getting me onto my tiptoes and forcing me to lean into my partner. They bite my breast, hard. I want them to.
“Put some clothes on, we’re going to dinner… and don’t wash your face.”
your thing is probably awesome.
I loved Topanga she was so ahead of her time. I’m glad I did have a strong female to look up to . I think the only issue I have with this message is that I don’t know what “my thing” is. I think if that was more concrete, watching others go off and do their thing might now feel so sad and confusing. Where the hell am I going in my life? I feel so immature sometimes in terms of figuring out my future. I personally don’t see living at home a bad thing. Other countries do it all the time. The family unit stays together much more often, children inherit homes, generations grow up together. It makes sense. Part of me though feels like I’m still not grown up because I’ve never left mommy’s nest. Then jobs! I mean I’m putzing around with my theatre work, but if I was really trying to be responsible then I’d be out getting a graphic design job and working my ass off to move up in the field and make a better office monkey wage. I just don’t know if I can do that.
Where the hell is my life headed? Is fixing up my home really all I have intended for my life? What is “my thing”? How do I do it? How do I accomplish things so I don’t feel left behind so I can meet someone someday and stand toe to toe with them. I want to be able to say, “Here’s what I’ve accomplished. Here are the amazing things I’ve done and that I bring to the table.”
petrichor.
bones, blood, tissue, water. The magical is contained within such crude forms, while the crude forms are yet just as magical. The monster and the wonder and the same. I feel like there’s something keeping my monster from reaching my wonder. Which will die first without the other?
The demon inside me.
I do not give up control well. Even if you have me tied up, being beaten hurt, fucked, humiliated… There’s still a certain amount of control that I have.
I wish I could give all of that. I wish I could get swept up in a whirlwind of emotion and passion. Just disappear from my brain and melt into my skin.
You know something is wrong when a completely out of control abusive-ish relationship seems almost romantic and dreamy.
I know this is just a dance. When I watch it some part of me is revolted by how messed up they are, but some part of me feels like it’s yearning for that.
I want to be ripped apart.
(x-posted from my fetlife journal)
I wish I was a little bit smarter
For some reason the people I like tend to be SUPER intelligent. I hung out with someone on monday. I spent the majority of my time listening to their intelligent topics and just not knowing how to respond because my comments would have been about as intelligent as “Uhh… I like pie.”
These are people who are seeking higher degrees… have good smarty pants jobs… People who write papers and proposals and grants on their own time. Fuck, I didn’t even write papers for classes in order to pass them, let alone for funsies! Yet, for some reason, these are the people who I want to sit near. Who I want to listen to. Who I want to do dirty things with. Who I want to look at and smell. Who I want to like me back.
I like hearing their thoughts about an obscure book or a new political and social conversation about art or the environment or spending and waste. One has been to Iran, one might go to Iran, one has worked in Dubai, one has ties to the Caribbean islands and has hiked the US extensively. They are just amazing people and I’m just… this lumpy person born and raised in the same area/house. Swaddled in privilege and one dimensional thought. I wish I could keep up my end of the conversation but in my head all I hear is “LA LA LA BUTTERFLIES LA LA LA”. It’s unfortunate.
laaa la la la la la laaaaaa sparkly things laaaaa la la la la lalaaaa.
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.
10 Realistic Rules for Good Non-MonogamousRelationships
by Andrea Zanin
This is a good read and it all makes a lot of sense. Below I’ve witten my own personal reactions to each section as it pertains to me. It makes me worried that I’m not now nor ever will be ready to have a relationship. I know that I don’t want monogamy. So what does that leave me with?
1. Know yourself.
There’s a list of questions. I can’t answer most of them. The answers I do have seem very bleak.
2. Love yourself.
Alas, I don’t think I take good care of myself.
3. Be happy ALONE.
This is something I have learned in my 8 years of being single.
4. Communicate. Honestly.
TOTALLY don’t have this one.
5. Know what you want.
uh, right. *snort*
6. Go for content, not form.
I think this one I could rock.
7. Be nice.
yeah, got this one too. It kinda runs alongside my “no drama” kind of thing. Basic rule of life, “Don’t be a douche”.
8. Have safer sex.
aww fuck. I really wish I didn’t suck at this.
9. Be strong.
Got this one down pat.
10. Go with the flow.
I’ve been going with the flow… that’s my current state.
A beginning
I wrote this quite a while ago. I slapped it up onto literotica. It has over 8k views. I’m not sure if it’s my cup of tea anymore. It was very much based off my romantic notions of a D/s or M/s relationship which was my fantasy getting into kink. Things have sure changed, although I do think that a kind of power exchange is necessary for me to enjoy most of my interactions.
He slides his finger along the ridge of my ear
He whispers
you are Mine…
His finger traces down onto my neck
you will do what I say.
His finger swirls around to a point on my neck
if you are good you will get rewarded.
He licks and nibbles at my skin causing goosebumps of pleasure
but…
His finger traces to the other side of my neck
if you are bad…
His finger swirls around again to a point
you will get punished.
He bites so hard I gasp and whimper
Understand?
I nod
He grabs me by the hair and yanks my head back so I can see into His face.
UNDERSTAND?
I respond,
Yes, Sir.
He kisses me deeply taking pleasure in the awkward angle of my neck.
Suddenly, He shoves my head away.
I fall to my hands and knees, gasping for breath.
He moves around in front of me and sits.
Now, let’s get started.
thought process: daily life introspection job money thinking
by ammre
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the future scares me.
My world isn’t hard. I live a spoiled life. Luck has been good to me.
When I was younger I used to hope I’d enjoy what I had and then die young. That way I wouldn’t have to figure out the future or build long term plans.
Sometimes, I worry that since I’ve been so lucky, that when my luck runs out I won’t have built the coping skills I need.
Now, I want to die young, late in life. I just have to make it there. What should I plan for the future? I haven’t thought very successfully about it.