Kansas is back.
She arrived about two hours ago.
Whatever will we do this week?!
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Split Heart
It’s so late.
Maxwell and I have a very dear friend that is going through a painfull breakup.
We have been nursing him, consoling him, feeding him, and offering him the best knowledge we posess to get past it.
He left over an hour ago, and since his departure Maxwell has been strumming his guitar and spouting lyrics to break your heart.
I want to jump his bones…I have for days.
This morning, after a night pregnant with salatious dreams, I awoke and instantly began stroking every inch of his body that was in reach. At last I said, I’m going to make some brunch (as it was too late for breakfast.)
After coffee and eggs, he declared that he needed to go to the hardware store. I whispered in his ear, honey please pick up some rope. He smiled back.
So now here we are, it’s nearly two in the morning.
I have all sorts of ideas for that rope…but it’s far too late, and his songs are breaking my heart.
Welcome to Kansas
I thought it might be fun to do a “dual-post” where Maxine and I post together. Who knows?
“We should write about Kansas,” I say. “What should we write?”
“Good things. She’s a good girl — a naughty girl — a nasty girl. That’s why we’re so close — we’re very much alike”
Fair enough. So do this, I’ll basically transcribe our conversation:
MAXINE: So I think it was the 2nd night that Kansas turned over and stuck her ass up in the air, and I nudged you, because it looked so inviting, like she was ready to get fucked.
MAXWELL: Yeah, I completely missed it — my mind occupied by the “scene”, keeping it going. Two tied up girls, I had my hands full. But we talked about that afterwards — I think going over that line would need to have a discussion beforehand. Making that decision when the other party is in bondage is not the right time.
MAXINE: I mostly knew you wouldn’t, but I wanted you to know it was ok if you were struck by the invitation.
MAXWELL: Wait, ok with you or ok with Kansas?
MAXINE: Both, but I don’t know if was ok with her. I know she was in the zone, and was into it, and I know her limits to an extent.
MAXWELL: Sure, but that’s not to say there wouldn’t be regret. Making the decision in that moment, especially with bondage in play, is not, as they say, safe, sane and consensual. Also, I’m very concerned about the impact it would have on our relationship, etc., etc. At any rate, it leaves a lot to discuss when she visits.
MAXINE: It was an “in-the-moment” thing, and I haven’t thought about it either. It was something that I noticed.
MAXWELL: I wonder if it was something that you wanted me to do — that it would have been an action of desire overriding my fetishism. Either way, it would have been irresponsible to do it without discussing boundaries, etc., before hand.
MAXINE: We certainly didn’t discuss any boundaries before we started. I gave Kansas a pretty thorough rundown of what goes on between you and I.
MAXWELL: Before?
MAXINE: Yeah. You were gone for a while, she and I talked a lot about sex. Once I admitted to her about blogging, it opened up a whole can of worms. It was great. Our friendship bloomed after that. It was like, “wow, your libido is as big as mine!”
MAXWELL: So we have some activities planned for the evening. I must admit to wishing Kansas was here to take pictures! And to get involved, of course. Some real “third night” kinda shit.
MAXINE: (laughs) Yeah, we have some plans to devise in the next couple of weeks before she gets here, come up with some real kinky shit.
MAXWELL: Certainly check out some fetish events in the city. You know, it sucks that it will be too cold for motorcycles. Riding around on superbikes in latex catsuits is my kind of foreplay!
MAXINE: Mine too. . . . it’s late. I think we should get to it.
MAXWELL: Yeah. That sounds good. I’ve been making preparations.
MAXINE: (laughs)
breach
I’m not so self-conscious about being a fetishist as I used to be; and I knew that Maxine had discussed some of the finer points of the endeavor with Kansas, so it felt pretty natural asking her if she’d gang up on Maxine with me that night. There was no hesitation, as there shouldn’t have been. This is the sort of stuff that makes the post-modern condition worth it.
The following night, Maxine and I ganged up on Kansas. I had no real idea of what she liked or thought about bondage and sensory depravation, but she was game. It was a great surprise to find that she really dug it — you have to understand that it’s a kind of validation — as if someone comes up to you and says, “hey — that freak flag you’re flying there is kinda cool.”
I found myself daydreaming about what would have happened on the third night that didn’t happen: the night that it would’ve been my turn to be ganged up upon. I found myself calculating the logistics of the three of us becoming a couple. I found myself thinking that the room I’ve built at the center of my soul is more than a stage of props and curtains to act out scripted scenarios with Maxine as a willing player; and it is indeed real; and perhaps others have built similar such rooms; and that despite our best-laid intentions, the theater walls have been compromised.
Breached.
I Heart Kansas
“Why the hell were we not doing that the previous nights?!” exclaimed Kansas.
Kansas flew in to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with us. My oh my what a holiday it was.
As the day of her arrival approached, my thoughts often re-visited last year. The year without Maxwell, the year I spent much of my time with Kansas. As much as Kansas is one of my dearest friends she was also very much a perfect stand-in for Maxwell. Not decidedly so. We just happened to discover our friendship at the exact perfect time. And we were just right for each other. It was as simple, and as complex as bringing light to the others life in all respects.
I knew Maxwell would adore her.
I also knew that the nights that lay ahead would be jam packed with debautchery. Of course many little scenes had long since been flickering on my little projection screen, yet I was not sure that they would actually leave that screen.
We had never let anyone step into that space before, as it can get pretty intense.
Also, Maxwell is quite shy.
Purple is Grand
Maxwell informed me early this morning that he had a few errands to run, but that he would be back in just a bit. That was more than fine with me, a little more time beneath the sheets spent dreaming was all I wanted. We had stayed up pretty late last night…..
We were finally able to put our not-so-innocent wardrobe away in some new furniture we had purchased over the weekend. It was pleasing to finally see our naughty things find a proper home. They had lived in secret bins under beds, and bland boxes in the corner of our room. He opened up the briefcase, and began pulling out all the various stand-in cocks, and plugs. The Feeldoe was the one that caught his fancy. I had yet to use it as it was intended, only as a dildo because the size and girth are alarming similar to Max’s lovely phallus.
With raised brows I asked him if he could handle it, as he examined it throughly.
“It’s so smooth…I think so.”
My eyes lit, and the smile cracked. Full latex was a must. I had to see the way that long purple cock looked as it jutted from my shiny black crotch. Not to mention the visual of it sliding in and out of his ass, also shiny and black. Fucking hot.
We decided to do it in the bathroom for three reasons.
*the sound of the shower masks the noise
*clean-up is a cinch
*the giant double mirrors, so we can watch the show
I connected two long leather belts together, to fashion a harness around his upper torso. His wrists were cuffed, and fastened to the harness high, and tight behind his back. I proceeded to insert the bulbous end of the Feeldoe inside my kitty. What a well crafted toy!! I was pretty amazed at how comfortable it was. I knew it was not going anywhere, no threat of slippage. And my oh my how it looked. It was just as I imagined. Next time I promise we will take a photo. One of the things I love the most about that image in particular is how unreal, and cartoonish it looks;)
Just like a man, I took my cock in hand and began to stroke it’s slick proportions. If only…
My lubed fingers found their way to Max’s nether regions, working them slowly, preparing him for the grand entrance. Just a few short minutes later he began to work his ass backwards, signaling his desire. We worked together slowly as his ass descended on my bright purple cock. I reached around and began to stroke him as I began to rock gently in and out of his ass. Once I found my pace, it didn’t last much longer. I began to moan as though I were exploding inside him, rolling into him with more urgency. All the while my hand is picking up speed on his cock, as the throbbing is getting hotter. He moves forward and grinds his ass down hard on my cock as he lets puts his head back and lets the orgasm take him to the other side.
Boxes
All of our possessions arrived yesterday, in twenty boxes.
The heaviest box of all was the “kink” box.
Fifty pounds of leather, latex, chain, gas masks, boots, dildos & plugs.
Sex has been a very far away thought, but I have been having all these sex dreams. Not really crazy or anything, just lots and lots of me getting it in all different positions.
We had attempted the night before but I became suddenly weird, and awkward. I whined about the bright lights. I wanted the lights to be dim, and subtle…like in the room we used to share. Then, I don’t know what the hell happened. I’m sure the wine before hand added to the drama. I just chalked it up to stress, and settling back into to one another. Lovey dovey it has not been.
I awoke yesterday and decided that no matter what stress we encountered throughout the course of the day, I would simply deal with it, then be the little duck that lets it roll off her back.
As a side note; I’m a low key girl, very low stress. When I’m blasted with it on all fronts my management skills are little to none.
There was one little incident when he got home from work. He was very agitated. The tears sprang forth, so I went to the brilliant back yard, took a few deep breaths and thought of the fabulous fucking I was going to receive later that night if I played my cards right.
Seriously, that’s what got me through the night. He was in no mood to fuck. Last thing on his mind. But I knew it was crucial to do so. We needed to connect. I needed his cock buried in me as far as it could go to make me feel real again.
As the night wore on, my easy demeanor caught him. Soon he was approachable. The next couple of hours were filled with easy conversations about this and that.
“Maxine, why didn’t you move the kinky box in first?”
I frowned, “Much too heavy, I needed you to bring her in.”
The lighting issue had been worked out.
The tension had finally left the room.
Color Swell
We’re here!
There was no exclamation point yesterday. I will only say that it certainly was not how I had envisioned our first day in our new home. Let’s just say that it sucked…really hard.
Today it was super sunny (!!!). The beauty of what surrounds me is like something out of a Technicolor film. Giant Christmas trees everywhere you look, lush ferns, crazy-every-color-you-can-think-of flowering bushes, neon-green grass, flowersflowersflowers,…it’s just astounding. If you could only see my back yard! I found a wicker rocking chair near the side of the house, pulled it to the patio bathed in sunlight and just soaked it all in.
That first swell of new love made my heart skip a few today….
Mixed
I can’t fucking sleep.
Too much on the gray matter. I’m saying my goodbyes, meeting with good friends and family. Once Maxwell arrives it’s all business. He is coming home to assist in the final clean-up, because there remains many of his belongings. And of course to ease the stress of the actual get-up-and-go.
My sister is a mess. Her eyes are forever brimming with tears when she looks at the squids.
But I’m getting really excited. I will be the new girl in town after all.
The fucking saltwater is stinging the tear in my lip at this moment but that’s ok. It’s great.
I’m up, and making mixes for my peeps. Songs to remember me by. It’s just awful that I don’t have a turntable, and a bloody tape deck. Real mix tapes are a rare and prized gift. I have received one in the last 10 years…from Ruby. They are treasures indeed.
On a little side note…i have been pleasuring myself with a newfound vigor (!!!), twice a day at least.
I really need to try and sleep, tomorrow is back to back good-byes.
synthesis
So, as you all can imagine, Maxine has been on my case to make a post in recent days. She certainly has had more to say than I. Of course, I must invoke the classic blog excuse that I’ve been too busy, too busy. But Look: I’ve really not been thinking about sex recently (well, not too much, anyway), and at the same time there has been a debate in my mind about what this blog is really about.
Maxine says this: that it should have context. A sex life happens amidst a real life. I begrudgingly concur. The thing is, is that I’ve been noticing — I’m becoming more and more aware — that my sexual fantasies are disconnected from reality. Once again, the fetish. Fetish is outside of reality. Fetish takes sexuality outside of reality and recontextualizes it. It is synthesized, plastic. So how to put fetishism into the context of reality?
That’s the $1,000,000 question, now isnt’ it?