Is it Thursday already? The beginning of this week absolutely crawled by! Now the weekend is rushing up quick! Yay!
I had alot of fun last night at the Better Bean. Mum's the word on the top secret stuff we discussed, but I'm told my aura oscillated between yellow and a Bob Ross ochre. Maybe I'll look that up, see what it means. I heart the better bean (though a loyal portion of my heart will always mourn the loss of The Daily Grind!), and i heart their delicious nutritious sandwiches, and I heart spending time with friends. I do begin to feel somewhat like a soap opera character, always going to the same local coffeeshop for all our heart-felt discussions and dish sessions! But what can you do? Unless, maybe, I open one of my own somewhere... now there's a thought!
Yesterday at work I made sandcastles and colored pictures! I love getting paid to do those things.
In a related discussion, it is time for me to start applying for jobbies again, and this makes me feel dread and all kinds of unpleasantness. Why won't a job simply land in my lap? If only, right?
Well, here's hoping that summer is amazing and a half.
Lol. RIght now in inschool someone is doing one of those annoying high-frequency noises that is designed to annoy teachers. It's an i-phone app or something. Lol. I always pretend I can't hear it, which boggles the kids, but bores them. The guy I work with, the total tool, always goes bananas. It will be fun to see how he reacts if they keep it up. He is such a fucking asshole.
Sorry this blog entry is lamesauce. I've been pouring my writing into other avenues lately. Emails, letters, fiction, and other tasks.
Besides, to be honest, I've been keeping alot more of my feelings to myself lately, which makes for a boring blog. But there are some things I'm going through right now that I can't really share on cyberspace. Awful and hypocritical of me, eh?
How about htis, though? I came so powerfully and for so long last night that I openly wept, even while I was begging him not to ever stop! It was amazing. And I won't even tell you how many times I came, because I don't want to be lynched! Suffice it to say that it was an amazing fucking night. It was funny, too, because it started with him on the computer reading aloud to me some fun things from cracked.com, a comedy website we both thoroughly enjoy, and me up in bed (I had to charge my phone and lappy and just wanted to stretch out all cozy). Well, whilst listening my hands wandered of their own volition and started, well, playing. I tried to keep this on the down-low, not really because it isn't allowed or anything, but because it would be rude to be diddling yourself whilst someone is reading to you, right? But I couldn't help doing it. It felt good! And I had alot on my mind that needed, um, exercising (or exorcising, maybe some of both?), and, well, I kept at it.
Here's the thing. Even though I was being super quiet and discreet, and even though I was actively listening to what he was reading, he still bagged me from the other room! "What are oyu doing up there?" He asks, with a twist of mischief.
"Nothing." I respond, non-chalant.
"Yeah, sure." He says with a luagh.
"What? Nothing!" I protest.
"You're touching yourself." He says smugly, and I can hear the smile on his lips.
My mouth falls open. "How the fuck do you know that?!?!" I demand. I thought I'd been so damn slick!
"I can hear your little gasps up there." He teases me lovingly. "I can hear it in your voice when you say things; all shaky and out of breath."
"Jesus." I mutter. "Well, then, come up here and help me do it right!" I tease back.
I've never been able to make myself come from just my own fingers. I use a vibrator when I want to full-on masturbate. For whatever reason, I've just never been able to do it to myself; and trust me ladies, I've been working at it for ages! I think I started masturbating when I was like 8 or 9, for christ's sake. The only way I've been able to come by myself without a vibrator is with the shower. Oh man, did I take long ass showers in junior high and high school. Sorry, Environment.
Needless to say, the man actually did come up to bed to help me do it right, because he has no fucking problem making me come with his fingers. He's become a fucking maestro, really, which is incredible for me! I wonder aloud to him why I've never been able to. He reckons it's like tickling yourself.
Still. Do you think there's something wrong with me? A friend was very surprised by this little idiosyncrasy of mine and it set me to wondering about it. Plus, I'm reading this great fucking book Diary of a Sex Fiend, and the author\narrative voice, she can masturbate in a public restroom stall and make herself come. While the public part excites me, I just know it'd be a waste of time for me-- I can't seem to get off by my hand alone! Now, I have come from, well, the friction of 'humping' things, so long as there was some object filling me up, stimulating the g-spot. But there's no way I could do THAT discretely in a public stall of any variety! I did do it on tour once or twice in a hotel bathroom with those hotel shampoo bottles and hotel pillows covered by hotel towels. Thanks, Holiday Inn Express in Kansas City, MO! And that was kinda nostalgic, too, because the first objects I ever masturbated with were hotel shampoo bottles! You know, those little ones? Relatives would always give them to me as a child because I loved how exotic they seemed. Then, practically, when I figured out that they were about the right shape and not too threateningly big... well...
You can maybe now understand why, at 14, I figured I'd long since ruptured my hymen and then proceeded to finally jam something bigger up there, in a desperate quest to experience and orgasm for the first time, only to discover that what I'd given up for lost had actually been intact, but was now, sadly, definitely broken and dispensed with. Imagine my dismay and embarrassment. One of the biggest 'oops' moments of my life.
Yup. Lost my virginity to a tube of crest sparkle wrapped in a free condom from the U2 Popmart tour. I knew I was getting close to having sex for the first time with Aaron and decided that a condom called POP, would be a bit of bad luck, so I used it on my night of mad passion with myself and Mr. Sparkle.
Aaron was a peach about it, incidentally, though he still teases me mercilessly to this day. Maybe I'll get that hymen reconstruction, I tell him. First on the list, however, for self-improvements, would definitely be electrolysis or laser hair removal! Ugh! I can't be bothered with all this upkeep all the time. I don't want it ALL gone, I have a very lovely shade down there, but there is definitely some permanent sculpring I'd like done with.
Wow. This blog entry went from Zero to Hero there, huh?
I think that's more than enough gut-spilling for today, don't you? Talk about over-share. Oh well, read at your own risk, as the discalimer says.
But don't you think there's something terribly empowering about deflowering one's self? I sometimes feel like a character in a novel when I think about that innocent but instinctive act of burgeoning womanhood. And othertimes I just feel like I was an embarrassingly sex-addled teen who just wanted to get off!
I had alot of fun last night at the Better Bean. Mum's the word on the top secret stuff we discussed, but I'm told my aura oscillated between yellow and a Bob Ross ochre. Maybe I'll look that up, see what it means. I heart the better bean (though a loyal portion of my heart will always mourn the loss of The Daily Grind!), and i heart their delicious nutritious sandwiches, and I heart spending time with friends. I do begin to feel somewhat like a soap opera character, always going to the same local coffeeshop for all our heart-felt discussions and dish sessions! But what can you do? Unless, maybe, I open one of my own somewhere... now there's a thought!
Yesterday at work I made sandcastles and colored pictures! I love getting paid to do those things.
In a related discussion, it is time for me to start applying for jobbies again, and this makes me feel dread and all kinds of unpleasantness. Why won't a job simply land in my lap? If only, right?
Well, here's hoping that summer is amazing and a half.
Lol. RIght now in inschool someone is doing one of those annoying high-frequency noises that is designed to annoy teachers. It's an i-phone app or something. Lol. I always pretend I can't hear it, which boggles the kids, but bores them. The guy I work with, the total tool, always goes bananas. It will be fun to see how he reacts if they keep it up. He is such a fucking asshole.
Sorry this blog entry is lamesauce. I've been pouring my writing into other avenues lately. Emails, letters, fiction, and other tasks.
Besides, to be honest, I've been keeping alot more of my feelings to myself lately, which makes for a boring blog. But there are some things I'm going through right now that I can't really share on cyberspace. Awful and hypocritical of me, eh?
How about htis, though? I came so powerfully and for so long last night that I openly wept, even while I was begging him not to ever stop! It was amazing. And I won't even tell you how many times I came, because I don't want to be lynched! Suffice it to say that it was an amazing fucking night. It was funny, too, because it started with him on the computer reading aloud to me some fun things from cracked.com, a comedy website we both thoroughly enjoy, and me up in bed (I had to charge my phone and lappy and just wanted to stretch out all cozy). Well, whilst listening my hands wandered of their own volition and started, well, playing. I tried to keep this on the down-low, not really because it isn't allowed or anything, but because it would be rude to be diddling yourself whilst someone is reading to you, right? But I couldn't help doing it. It felt good! And I had alot on my mind that needed, um, exercising (or exorcising, maybe some of both?), and, well, I kept at it.
Here's the thing. Even though I was being super quiet and discreet, and even though I was actively listening to what he was reading, he still bagged me from the other room! "What are oyu doing up there?" He asks, with a twist of mischief.
"Nothing." I respond, non-chalant.
"Yeah, sure." He says with a luagh.
"What? Nothing!" I protest.
"You're touching yourself." He says smugly, and I can hear the smile on his lips.
My mouth falls open. "How the fuck do you know that?!?!" I demand. I thought I'd been so damn slick!
"I can hear your little gasps up there." He teases me lovingly. "I can hear it in your voice when you say things; all shaky and out of breath."
"Jesus." I mutter. "Well, then, come up here and help me do it right!" I tease back.
I've never been able to make myself come from just my own fingers. I use a vibrator when I want to full-on masturbate. For whatever reason, I've just never been able to do it to myself; and trust me ladies, I've been working at it for ages! I think I started masturbating when I was like 8 or 9, for christ's sake. The only way I've been able to come by myself without a vibrator is with the shower. Oh man, did I take long ass showers in junior high and high school. Sorry, Environment.
Needless to say, the man actually did come up to bed to help me do it right, because he has no fucking problem making me come with his fingers. He's become a fucking maestro, really, which is incredible for me! I wonder aloud to him why I've never been able to. He reckons it's like tickling yourself.
Still. Do you think there's something wrong with me? A friend was very surprised by this little idiosyncrasy of mine and it set me to wondering about it. Plus, I'm reading this great fucking book Diary of a Sex Fiend, and the author\narrative voice, she can masturbate in a public restroom stall and make herself come. While the public part excites me, I just know it'd be a waste of time for me-- I can't seem to get off by my hand alone! Now, I have come from, well, the friction of 'humping' things, so long as there was some object filling me up, stimulating the g-spot. But there's no way I could do THAT discretely in a public stall of any variety! I did do it on tour once or twice in a hotel bathroom with those hotel shampoo bottles and hotel pillows covered by hotel towels. Thanks, Holiday Inn Express in Kansas City, MO! And that was kinda nostalgic, too, because the first objects I ever masturbated with were hotel shampoo bottles! You know, those little ones? Relatives would always give them to me as a child because I loved how exotic they seemed. Then, practically, when I figured out that they were about the right shape and not too threateningly big... well...
You can maybe now understand why, at 14, I figured I'd long since ruptured my hymen and then proceeded to finally jam something bigger up there, in a desperate quest to experience and orgasm for the first time, only to discover that what I'd given up for lost had actually been intact, but was now, sadly, definitely broken and dispensed with. Imagine my dismay and embarrassment. One of the biggest 'oops' moments of my life.
Yup. Lost my virginity to a tube of crest sparkle wrapped in a free condom from the U2 Popmart tour. I knew I was getting close to having sex for the first time with Aaron and decided that a condom called POP, would be a bit of bad luck, so I used it on my night of mad passion with myself and Mr. Sparkle.
Aaron was a peach about it, incidentally, though he still teases me mercilessly to this day. Maybe I'll get that hymen reconstruction, I tell him. First on the list, however, for self-improvements, would definitely be electrolysis or laser hair removal! Ugh! I can't be bothered with all this upkeep all the time. I don't want it ALL gone, I have a very lovely shade down there, but there is definitely some permanent sculpring I'd like done with.
Wow. This blog entry went from Zero to Hero there, huh?
I think that's more than enough gut-spilling for today, don't you? Talk about over-share. Oh well, read at your own risk, as the discalimer says.
But don't you think there's something terribly empowering about deflowering one's self? I sometimes feel like a character in a novel when I think about that innocent but instinctive act of burgeoning womanhood. And othertimes I just feel like I was an embarrassingly sex-addled teen who just wanted to get off!
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