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The green-eyed monster December 11, 2010

Posted by Leah in Gallimaufry.
9 comments

I have a story to tell. I had sex last night. But before I share, as I am asked about these topics frequently, I thought I would write a post about jealousy and envy.

I want to distinguish the two emotions. I experience jealousy when I covet what another person has and feel resentful of this success or achievement. I experience envy when I wish that I had the same good fortune as someone else and resent its absence. They both arise out of longing and yearning, but I think the two feelings are subtly different. Personally, I struggle more with the latter than with the former. I am not so much jealous of my boyfriend or his lovers as I am envious, especially now when the Atlantic separates us.

I have discussed aspects of my open relationship before. The boyfriend has a pair of regular lovers, who he sees (separately) a couple of times a week, and the very occasional random hookup as a bonus with any other women he may find. In London, I see Frank when I can, Amadeo about once a week, and have frequent casual liaisons.

Whereas we may be envious of what happens in a one night stand and jealous of the frequency, this is fundamentally non-threatening by virtue of being a transient encounter. The lover is disposable. The sex is unimportant. The cock I find serves its function as an autonomous dildo. He uses a woman as three convenient holes for his penis. This applies even when the date incorporates elements of kink.

When a relationship exists — what I have written about with Frank or Amadeo, for example — or what the boyfriend has with his lovers at home — jealousy, envy, and even rage arise sub rosa. They stab at the left side of my chest. The pangs are momentary. They go away. The feelings dissolve when I intellectualize the set up. I want a diversity of experiences and a stable foundation. My boyfriend wants the same. We are each other’s bedrock. Our others enable sexual variety. One person can’t provide everything. This is a way to scratch the different itches.

In principle, we have discussed a veto over each other’s regulars. In the end, we decided that trust alone suffices.

There are emotional bonds with our steady extras. I want to please my regular lovers in bed more so than I do a one night stand. I am fond of them as people. We are friendly. Our personalities mesh well. I enjoy their company. We do more than have sex. And the sex is more than just fucking. The foreplay and the afterglow and the conversation are integral parts of the whole. This is as it should be. A reason to have a regular is that friendship and familiarity improve the sexual experience.

The boyfriend and I are open at communicating what happens — not all the details all the time, but enough. Personally, I like to know as much as possible. When the boyfriend speaks explicitly about his adventures, I often masturbate. I started the blog so that he would acquire a sense of my London. Our experiences pop up in conversation all the time. Sexuality is so much a part of our personas that it seems normal when they do. The arrangement is weird only in that one of his lovers is also one of my friends. I introduced her to the boyfriend as a fellow kinkster. Though we have messed around as a threesome, most of my interactions with the girl are social and professional. It can be a little freaky knowing, while we are chatting about a perfectly ordinary topic, that on the previous afternoon, she had begged my boyfriend to have her clit spanked while cuffed naked to my bed and had been rewarded for her tears with permission to suck his cock and swallow his semen. I like her, so it’s ok.

Sex isn’t a competition. (People can suck at it though.) I don’t mind that the boyfriend also gets his orgasms from other women, sometimes in the D/s context. There are things that we do only with each other, for example, going bareback. There is a part of him that is reserved only for me, and also the reverse. We are closer with each other than with anyone else. I can live with that.

The line in the sand is love. Both of us fall well short with our others. I am far from monogamous sexually, but I focus like a laser where it concerns the intensity of my affections. If one of us were to fall in love with someone else, then, at that point, he or I would need to make an irrevocable choice between the options. I am not at all comfortable with divided loyalties. I’d rather lose the boyfriend than share him this way. For my part, I am constitutionally incapable of having two boyfriends at once. Polyamory isn’t an option from any direction. Indeed, I worry that Amadeo may be growing too attached to me. We will sort this out in time.

The arrangement I have is unorthodox and irregular and complex. But it works. The human mind is plastic and adaptable. It gets used to the unusual. We have fun.

Promiscuity explained November 15, 2010

Posted by Leah in Gallimaufry.
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A reader asks why I have so many casual hookups.

Sex is fun. I enjoy the process of discovering a partner. I find a new cock thrilling even when it’s only for a night.

He continues: do you fear commitment? Isn’t sex a big deal? What’s wrong with monogamy?

I don’t shun commitment. I have a boyfriend. Long distance sucks, but we are still together. My boyfriend’s attitude toward sex and kink mirrors my own. Neither of us feel that at this point in our lives we benefit from absolute exclusivity.

In a way, sex is always the big deal. We are naked and exposed with our insecurities visible, and we find an embrace anyway. We share our bodies and desires and accept what the other person offers in return. Sex is the collaborative dance, its steps invented anew each time. It’s a conversation, with the secrets laid bare. In another way, sex is no big deal at all. It’s that natural thing people do to acquire the pleasure it brings. It can’t be done alone. We need a partner to have the give and take, so we choose someone we like. Though it’s a conversation instead of a monologue, the patterns are familiar ones, and we know what happens. Sex is a moment in time that leaves the rest of the world in abeyance, so it is deeply, intensely personal for that. But this moment passes, life resumes, and most often we are not changed. So it is also nothing special.

I have no argument with anyone who prefers a monogamous arrangement. It happens not to be my choice right now. It might never be.

I think of it this way. Wouldn’t it be absurd if you were told that you could only laugh with one other person? Replace laugh with orgasm. They are both expressions of pleasure. What’s the difference?

Type dirty to me November 5, 2010

Posted by Leah in Gallimaufry.
9 comments

• I notice that some of you have discovered the ask me something sexy link on the sidebar. Feel free to send quickie questions there. I don’t promise to answer, but it’s likely that I will.

• Fewer than 0.1% of page views result in responses. I am grateful for feedback on the blog as comments or through e-mail. Criticism of the writing is welcome.

• I’d love to hear your sexy stories as well.

The content of their character October 24, 2010

Posted by Leah in Gallimaufry.
11 comments

A reader asks: do you ever fuck black guys?

I deliberately avoid documenting the race and ethnicity of my sexual partners. When I allude to these points — most often, I hope, in an if you’re not reading carefully, you won’t notice sort of way — it is because the contrast between my partner and myself was momentarily striking and the mental image of the difference registered later as I set fingers to keyboard to capture the experience.

As I state in several of my CL ads, I don’t use race, ethnicity, or age as filters in selecting partners. Literacy and intelligence and attitude and imagination and good conversation and having an intriguing life and a sense of humor and a curiosity about kink are sufficiently many character traits to localize in one person without demanding more. With zero exception, however, I need to be attracted physically to proceed to bed. Conventional good looks help, but there are enough deviations in my taste that I can’t point to a physical type. While I sometimes want a huge cock and unending stamina, these are not necessary criteria either. Competence in bed and the ability to dominate a willful personality sexually exist separately from the attributes of the genitalia. Race and ethnicity neither contribute to nor subtract from the balance.

I make no claim to being free of unconscious biases in the choices I make. Who we find attractive is shaped by our social influences and also the kinds of people with whom we interact regularly and form friendships. I like to believe I run with a diverse crowd and that skin color and nationality don’t inform who I date.

To answer the question directly, yes: I have fucked black guys. I prefer to formulate this differently, however. I have fucked guys who I found interesting whose skin tone happens to be a darker shade than mine. I have assumed the submissive role with them. It has happened in London. I won’t say who. I am not going to catalog my lovers this way or indulge in stereotypes.

Emotional connection September 30, 2010

Posted by Leah in Gallimaufry.
3 comments

A reader asks: after all this physical interfacing and intercourse, where do you get your emotional connection from? Is sex only desire filling?

There isn’t an emotional connection in a one night stand. In many respects, sex is cleanest this way. Both partners know precisely what the encounter is about, and there are no expectations for what comes after. We have our fun and go our separate ways. I like the arrangement.

Sex with a regular partner entails an emotional bond. There are other examples, but Frank’s is the most recent case. He earned subsequent invitations to my bed by being engaging conversation and a phenomenal fuck on the first go. It helped that this was a serendipitous meeting rather than a Craigslist liaison. With time a connection developed. We hung out together on many occasions that didn’t involve sex. As I noted in my farewell post, by the end of the summer we had become tight, and the sex was an extension of that friendship. As a bonus, with familiarity the play had improved because we knew what made each other happy and cared in a personal way.

Ours was not the closest bond in my life, and Frank knew that. The relationship never approximated boyfriend and girlfriend. Days would go by when we didn’t communicate even by text. There were subjects we never discussed. For all I know, he had other lovers over the course of the summer. I mentioned my occasional entanglements in passing. I talked to him about my boyfriend. Frank spoke about prior relationships but never about current ones. I didn’t press the issue.

The situation with D/s regulars is similar, except that kinky sex is involved. Part of the selection process for these fuck buddies is whether they can bring me into subspace and manage how emotional I get when I am there. Thus far, this submersion has happened in London only on three occasions, two of which were with the boyfriend. A man I called Daddy handled the third beautifully.

I get my emotional fix from the boyfriend when we are together. When apart, we still communicate every day. We talk several times a week, for hours sometimes. There is as well the occasional Skype sex, which I haven’t written about in any detail. Long distance is not ideal for a relationship that is still young and whose future remains uncertain. We manage the stress as best we can.

I am close to my family. I make friendships easily. I rely on these bonds, here and in the States, to keep me grounded and sane.

Finally, I should add that I am more comfortable writing in public about my sex life than I am about my emotional core. This inevitably tilts the focus of the blog toward the physical sensations rather than the psychological ones.

Have a blast! September 10, 2010

Posted by Leah in Gallimaufry.
3 comments

A reader asks: do you like that people jack off to what you write?

Honestly, I haven’t pondered this at all. Books and blogs arouse me, but I rarely masturbate while reading the printed word. (Erotic prose read aloud by a lover is quite another matter.)

There’s little enough unalloyed pleasure in this world. If I contribute in some small way to the happiness of a nameless stranger whose eyes happen upon these pages, I am delighted at that prospect.

Truth September 9, 2010

Posted by Leah in Gallimaufry.
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A reader asks: is your blog a Fiction-cum-Story or Partial Fiction/Partial Truth or Fully True?

I am not writing as a journalist or a historian or a scientist. My obligation isn’t to the truth. My intention is to tell a sexy story based on stuff that happened. I tend to write about the positive aspects of an encounter rather than the negative ones. It’s more fun to remember the bits that worked. There are omissions. Occasionally, I will reorder incidents where it serves a narrative purpose. I may also alter certain details to shade the identities of my lovers and to preserve my own anonymity. Memory is notoriously fallible. I am not taking notes while I am having sex. I am not thinking about how I will blog about it later. I am in the moment, feeling it. I am collaborating in the acquisition and the expression of pleasure. I don’t always know whether I licked my partner’s balls before or after I throated his cock. The perception of time has a tendency to misshape during periods of intense sensation. Did he fuck me from behind for five minutes or ten minutes before we changed positions? How many orgasms did I have while she tongued my pussy? I didn’t count; I was too busy writhing. I only have guesses. The account I give is a reconstruction of events.

It’s not strictly the truth. But I can’t make it more true while still remaining faithful to the stories I want to tell and the sex I want to have.

While I am bleeding below, I will entertain other questions. Add a comment or send an e-mail.

The world is too much sometimes September 3, 2010

Posted by Leah in Boyfriend, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fisting, Fucking, Gallimaufry, Masturbation, Repeated hookups, Spanking, Urine.
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A reader asks: are you there?

Yep.

Life has a way of generating complication. I had one set of deadlines at the end of August. A second set in the middle of September looms. While I was dealing with school, I didn’t have the ten hours a week to spare for blogging. I realized this as I was writing day five, which I never got around to proofreading until today. In any case, during a string of all-nighters, there isn’t much time for sex.

Here are some stories from the past weeks that I am not going to tell you about in any detail.

Day six: The boyfriend finds the spot deep in my pussy that makes me fountain. He presses his lips against my clit while I orgasm. Afterwards, he fists me. The memory of his hand inside and how it turns leaves me wet for days.
Day seven: The boyfriend has too much to drink. Deciding that putting his clothes on and walking to the shared bathroom is too great an effort, he uses me as a toilet. Twice he wakes me. He pisses slowly so that I can swallow his beery urine. In the morning, I wake him with a blowjob. He chases the semen with his full bladder, moaning his pleasure while I drink.
Day eight: The last spanking is a caning. It leaves red stripes on my ass. The skin eventually turns a deep purple.
Day nine: Sneaking into the men’s bathroom to fuck, we share a quickie at the airport. While his plane is in the air, I am at home. I smear the residues of semen over my clit and masturbate.

Three times since the boyfriend left and most recently yesterday, Frank spent the night. As always, the sex was inspired, but also conventional. I prefer more complexity. Claire and I are thinking of ambushing Frank together to see how he reacts.

Last Friday, Dr. Williams e-mailed me. I hadn’t planned to see him again, but he caught me when I was feeling particularly horny. I went to his office. I spent an hour under his desk, sucking his cock and licking his feet while he conferenced on the computer with his colleagues in Canada. It was fun to bring him close to orgasm and ease him away while he had to conceal the sensations and talk shop. I felt powerful at his feet. I pressed his heel against my pussy and used the friction to masturbate myself. We fucked. I pretended to be his student. We started on the easy chair and ended on his desk, which is piled high with papers. My legs were up in the air. He covered my mouth with his hand to stifle my screams. The neighboring offices probably heard me anyway.

So that’s the sex life. Now, it’s back to work for Leah. I will see you when I see you.

Condoms and the pleasures of going without August 11, 2010

Posted by Leah in Gallimaufry.
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One of the reasons I am looking forward to the boyfriend’s visit is that I miss bareback sex.

My boyfriend and I are both sexually active with multiple partners — me more so than him. I’m more likely to indulge in a one night stand. He prefers a regular coterie of lovers and typically has a couple of other women that he plays with. Under the circumstances, we use protection outside the relationship for everything except oral sex, which we regard as an acceptable risk. We also get tested for STDs twice a year. Before we moved in together, we even used condoms with each other. After we started sharing the same living space, we have eschewed protection in our own bedroom.

Because I owe it to myself and my partners, I use condoms out of necessity. I am not fond of them. I don’t like the consistency of latex. I don’t like how an erection looks when it is covered. I don’t like how it tastes or smells. If it made a noise, I’d disparage that, too. A condom clad penis never feels as natural as a naked cock boring into me. The waters from my pussy surround it, sluicing along the sides as he interrogates the void. I prefer flesh on flesh, his heat against mine with no barrier between us, the tension at the point of entry, how I stretch around an erection, the touch of skin upon muscle, the way I squeeze him and experience the subtle responses his cock makes. I like how much more sensitive the sex is. When he thrusts into my cunt, his shaft becomes coated in thick and viscous fluids. That image alone arrests me. In the endgame, the movements of his pelvis accelerate and the stem stiffens and the glans enlarges and he grunts in satisfaction and hammers me harder and harder until his body shudders, the legs trembling, and his balls contract and the shaft pulses and recoils and the semen geysers out in thick jets that bathe my womb, and I feel it — yes, I do.

After a glorious fuck, I will often cup my hand over my cunt to keep the boyfriend’s semen within. I play with it once it leaks out, using my fingers to smear it over the lips and clit. I will push the come back in again and use it as lubrication for the next go. That always feels extraordinary: to have him in me a second time, his cock in motion through what he has previously spilled. I like the slippery, sticky wetness at the beginning, how the amalgam of his semen and my cream cover the sides of his cock and trickle down his balls. I love sucking him clean once we have both orgasmed. The contrasts are vivid. His flavor heightens my own. When the come seeps out of me, as eventually it must, I like the liquid sensation between my legs when I sit or walk. I like how it slowly drips down my thighs and dries over my skin. I won’t wash it away. I like that the stains mark me as his lover. I like wearing this secret on me during the day. I like how it smells. I am sad when it flakes off.

Thank you, Fleshbot! August 11, 2010

Posted by Leah in Gallimaufry.
2 comments

Judging by the peaks in the page views, I am sure I owe most of my readership to having been republished on Fleshbot on several occasions in august and sexy company. I want to offer a word of thanks.

Sex echoes. Writing about the experience is thrilling. You live it in the moment as cock collides with cunt and the bodies move, and then you live it again a second time as the fingers somehow find a way to give expression to the action. It renders the ephemeral enduring. I hope my readers are able to live it, too.

Thank you for visiting. Please comment or e-mail if the compulsion strikes.

Finally, eight hours after making the initial post, let me revise by adding a few housekeeping remarks in the light of morning. I am on my period and won’t be having sex until the weekend. The boyfriend is visiting from the 14th to the 22nd. I expect to have lots of filthy sex over these nine days. I am not sure I will be putting fingers to the keyboard on the day after every time as I have been doing, however. I’d rather spend the time with him than with my laptop. But please do check in. I am sure I will write about the sexperiences eventually.