53 people have read about my sex life this week

Save my soul

There is no way I have told 53 different people about my personal site.
Perhaps you are a good friend who was confided in.
Perhaps you had a small girl confess a drunken secret.
Perhaps the url was a thank you for breaking the rules on her behalf.
Perhaps the address was revealed through clenched teeth as you smacked her bottom at a fetish event.
Perhaps you'll find out tonight when she slips through the crowds at the spring sex show.
Perhaps you found the link on her artist profile because she can be a dumb cunt and forgot to take it down.

No worries, a minute later it was removed, after possibly everyone I know has read every intimate detail of my bedroom.

So I asked myself; if I was so conscious of my privacy why was this blog ever started?
The social constructs that surround sex are preposterous. Truly. How can people hate sex so much and continue to breed?

Every person has many facets of themselves. IE. I love liddle kiddies and I want to hug them and luv them and inspire them to chase their dreams through fields of flowers. I also like to fuck people I care about. Shocking isn't it?
The very fact that this site can be construed by a potential employer as a negative is why the world needs my honesty.

Consequently, the link is back on my artist profile. People can look me up, check out my artwork, and even see my tits.
If I am treated differently by you, know that that is your failing and not mine. This site does not make me morally deficient.


Now you know that I habitually ruin my lover's linens by squirting.

You can still look me in the eye, and you can hire me for ARTWORK (only!!) based on my hard work and talent.
You can trust me with your kids, and to be polite and interesting over dinner.

Now I'm off to the sex show!!! Huzzah! I'm HOURS late, and I missed the seminar on gender bending. I wanted to dress like a prince, and open doors and stuff. BACK DOORS. OF MEN.

My site has been viewed 1076 times.
There is a special place in heaven reserved for me for that kind of social taboo deconstruction

(verb) my (noun)

MMM4 was a blast! I was asked to model my friend's body painting. I also brought my artwork to showcase. So many freaky new friends were made. I won ANOTHER fake orgasm contest, which is strange considering I never fake it. A sexy painted redhead gave her impression of the big O. Then I slid up to the microphone and crooned "Baby, you look so fine in that apron. Men in heels get me so hot. Turn around and bake some cupcakes. Now bend over and put them in the oven. Dear god! *pants* Fuck yes! Bake it for me baby! Put it in the Oven! NOW! Gaaah!"

Bwahaha! And the crowd of hardcore metal kinksters roars!

That was the second contest I won that night. The first time I was headed past the stage to the play room upstairs (to be kerspanked!). Overhearing Mistress Liz demand that the sexy Dominatrix beside her have her boots worshipped I rose the the challenge. Or rather crawled. Bowing and scraping to give her boots kisses, hoping to win her and the crowd's approval. Competition appeared, a goth girl with a fierce thirst for victory. Little did she know that this sub is a switch, and I fought her back. The Dominatrix stoically announced that I won and handed me a giant black vibrator. I was also given a year's membership to the club.

Later, having a beer, a gentleman explained to me that The Club, was in fact a swinger's club. Which mean I had to bring a partner. Also the club is a place where people have sex. I sort of figured, but I really though it meant free entry to raving industrial parties that I could get paddled at.

So now that I needed a partner, and I had an excess of dildoage. I solved both problems in one go. Turning to my friend, who is rather virginal, I gave her my extra toy and ask that she join with me. Now when we go out, we'll have each other's backs. I'll keep the creepers off her while she learns. And she can keep me from making drunken promises.



When Mathew Hennebury, friend and body painter picked me up. I ducked into his SUV and was impressed to see Mistress Liz sitting up front. This foxy older woman was porting a mohawk, a military jacket, fishnets, knee high boots, piercings galore. Within 5 minutes we were laughing about my St.Patrick's day orgy. "And I'm yelling "that's amazing!" as she squirts on my face!" Not 10 minutes later, Mistress Liz is telling me about the duality of the universe and how it reflects in s/M. I'm hoping that when I have more free time, she'll let me apprentice her while she works as a professional Dominatrix. Gee whiz! I'm going to kick so much ass!



All in all it was an excellent night. I ended up turning down all the strapping young suitors. Which is a new phase I'm going through. Most of the time I tell myself I should try having casual sex with new people. But I almost never do. And when it does happen it's within the safe confines of friendship or an implied romantic relationship. Lately, I've been approached by all sorts of beautiful, fascinating men. But I find that I'm lackluster in bed when I don't have an emotional tie. My heart gets into bed with me. Package deal, even though I try to separate them. I've come to realize all over again that sex is about intimacy for me. Physical gratification comes second. Why fight my nature?

Well, it means very little sex, when the one's I'm romantic with are far away. Luckily I have my new vibe to keep me company. Since I have a habit of naming vibes after spaceships they are as follows The Enterprise, The Tardis and now introducing--

THE DEATH STAR!
It has a whip at the hilt :D

Industrial kink singers club in Ottawa
http://www.theclubottawa.ca/events.asp

For more photos of the night, this is the body painter's site
http://www.wellfedartist.ca/WFANewsite/Pages/wholeframe.htm

As a side note. Someone raised the idea that perhaps having sex with the people you love clouds the relationship. What an unconventional notion. Instead of making love to the people you care about very deeply, to instead keep the love pure, and fuck random hotties that cross your path. It seems a little upside down to me. I believe that sex is expressing intimacy and trust, so to say that I don't want to have sex with someone I love means there's a disconnect. But I have loved, and still do, lovers with whom sex either died, or had to be cut off because the situation wasn't working. So obviously love can exist outside of sex.

Can I handle not having sex with someone I'm in love with? Absolutely. If I need to prove to them that my feelings transcend sex, I'll take the bullet. Part of me wonders if perhaps I lack experience. Which has me thinking I should really get over my love/sex inhibition and just fuck people for fun.
Meh, no worries. I've got a fleet of spaceships to explore with until I find a companion who's game for an adventure.




Your (noun) makes me so (adj.)
I want to (verb) your (adj) (noun)
I write comics about how you play with my (adj) (noun) <--Best compliment in bed.




One more comic. I should clean this up, but the point is that it was messy sex. Blood everywhere. In the house and on the patio. I was so embarrassed. But that's part of life. Pubes in your mouth, bleeding, farting, that squelchy sound you make when you get rammed. Haha! Isn't sex beautiful?

xxx
Ariadne

Hippie musician boys with long hair are a secret weakness of mine.

Eyeaaaahh, about that time I asked you to dump your girlfriend over the phone and run away with me... I was really, really intoxicated. But you know...

Best Fucking Awards

I challenge you to give or receive a BJ to this song:

I will make a cake for anyone who can prove they did this.

Microwave vs. The Oven
Oral to Penetration

Today in class some friends called me over with "You'll like this conversation." The discussion was about how he never wants blow jobs because he much prefers fucking. I was once given this analogy: Microwave vs. the Oven. Sometimes you want a pizza pocket, sometimes you want a steaming baked pizza. I suggested that perhaps his girlfriend isn't very good at them.

When I was a fledgling dyke, I tried a few times to go down on my first girlfriend. She never let me practice because she said i went down like a boy. She meant this as an insult. Getting no positive feedback, I lost interest. This meant that our sex life was limited to finger fucking. Which became a mastered art of ours, but left me wanting more.
Eventually I was able to coax her into letting a strap on enter the bedroom. Nothing like the real thing, and doesn't even vibrate but does allow for a power trip. After a very long time She was finally open to the idea of trying out my favourite vibrator. That night she came about 7 times.

I
told
you
so

I had showed up on our second date with it in my purse and announced "now we can actually have sex." She laughed, and said we already had. Apparently mutual masturbation passes for sex with some lesbians. I don't mean to sound bitter. Sex is what you make it.

This reminds me that I mean to give out awards to my partners.



Best at @#$%! in Bed Awards
Everyone is good at something.
It's true. While one person may rock your clit, another might be great at massages.



Award for both viginities.
Also for DP with a vibe

My first boyfriend was the only one I've ever trusted enough to really explore anal with. Oddly that only happened after we broke up and had to stick together till the end of the apartment lease. At that point we had very little to lose, so why not. The abandon we finally found with each other was almost enough to stick around for. Almost. But after 5 years of monogamy and heterosexuality, I was ready to grow.

Award for nonconsensual non-monogamy fail
Is it cheating is you're not technically dating either of them?

There was a short amount of time where I was still seeing my ex, while I was dating a new female lover. Though they never met, they both felt threatened by the other. Not long after I moved out he and I stopped seeing each other. I admitted that would continue to keep loving him, but I needed to explore the world as a free woman.
It was too difficult for him to maintain relations with me once I wasn't just his. And we stopped seeing each other. There have been a few times over the last year or so that we've hooked up. Mostly we had very little to say to each other and hoped that sex would loosen the tension.
I began to suspect he wasn't doing much to move on, and I was only providing incentive. I have not seen him for many months, and if I were to, I would not be the same person who once loved him.

Award for best clit fingering
Also for prettiest O face



My first girlfriend gave me my favourite kind of orgasms. Manual stimulation of the clit with her fingers. Also she liked to have others play with us. I took to that like a duck to water. She and I tried some light s/M. I loved dominating her at first.
This became emotionally draining and I found she became too reliant on me in other aspects of our relationship. I wasn't ready to be in a relationship with someone so emotionally dependent on me. Also gets the award for lovliest orgasm face, she looked like the Madonna by Edvard Munch. Almost sacrilegious in her surrender. Dark, beautiful and unstable.

The painting is said to capture abandonment to ecstasy. The border some copies have is swimming with sperm, racing towards a fetus. This is a painting of the moment of orgasm, and conception. Having been dubbed the Madonna (holy mother) this image is blasphemy.



Award for mastering the female ejaculation
Also for best drag show

My second boyfriend found my G spot. He would go down on me and pound my Gspot for as long as I wanted. What a trooper. He was the first to get me to squirt. Remember to bring a towel. He was into gender play, and would dress as a woman sometimes. I loved doing his make up and dressing him up.
It wasn't a sexual turn on for me as much as it was for him. Though I liked mushing his moobs into a bra. Pretty boys with boobs and lace combine the best of both worlds. He was also submissive, and in the end also too emotionally dependent for my taste.

There was a brief period between my first girlfriend and second boyfriend where I was dating the two of them. They were okay with this at first, but jealousy, insecurity and neediness tore them up. Before the collapse of both relationships there were some mind blowing threesomes. Valentines day was perfect. I skated down the canal each holding my hand.


Award for first consensual polyamory fail.
Don't believe monogamous people when they say they'll accept you for who you are



As time passed, I was unable to cope with two tumultuous relationships. I found that my girlfriend was increasingly manipulative and needy. While my boyfriend quietly assumed second place on my list of priorities. There came a point where I realized that I was being unfair to him, and also to myself. So I put myself at the top of the list and tried to downgrade my relationship with her to fuck buddy status. This was disastrous. I always make this mistake with my exes.
But maybe the mistake is in committing to a relationship in the first place. Don't assume this means I'm jaded. I will always hope to love this easily. I've just realized that the friendship ought to be paramount. A relationship implies different expectations. And more often then not monogamy or hierarchal status. Those are both systems of control. Lovers do not need status, they are all different and feelings for one ought not affect feelings for another.



Award for making me doubt my bisexuality
If you only date women and men who identify as women are you bisexual or gay?

Since then I kept a semi successful fuck buddy relationship with the second boyfriend. It was comfortable and convenient. I'I entertained myself with short lived lesbian flings. When he announced he'd be transitioning into a woman, I began to doubt my bisexuality. My few boring flings with men were marked by a distinct lack of sexual zest. Men were far too easy to rope in, and because they provided no challenge I started telling them I was a lesbian. It was easier to deflect their attentions by claiming to be gay. I even started dressing a little more butch. plaid shirts, boots. A bowler hat. I still make a habit of showing how hairy my legs were to shoo them away.

Award for worst one night stand
Yargh, you can call me the Captain.

Last St.Patricks day I went home with a classy looking man from the irish pub. He was at that time the oldest person I'd slept with. I'd guess 26. He was actually Irish, but he wasn't actually named Brian. As he informed me later, while I was consoling him while he cried. During sex. Because he was doing it to get back at his girlfriend. "It's okay Brian" "I'm not Brian" " Who are you then?" "You can call me the Captain. Shall we continue?" " You suck Captain."
I slept on his couch until the busses started to run again at 6am, and I bolted, leaving behind my health card by accident. Well, I guess he knows I was honest about my name. I was tempted to leave some red hair wrapped around his girlfriend straightening iron.


That's not the Captain. The picture is unrelated. It's just some guy I harassed at Sexapalooza. He had no idea I was going to do this either, I caught him checking me out so I threw him in a counter and whooped him.


Award for best one night stand
Also for best use of rubber ducks

I had one successful one night stand with a man. And I met him, in all places, in Toronto the week of the Pride parade. He was demoing vibrating rubber ducks in a sex shop. I got a massage and his number.
For a man who works at a sex shop I was disappointed by the utter lack of toys. But he made up for it with a shocking display of energy. He jumped at the chance to dominate me when I mentioned my interest. He spanked my ass as hard as I wished and pulled my hair. When he drilled me from behind and pushed my face into the pillows I was laughing pretty hard. The endorphins from being spanked give me the giggles. He called me filthy names, which excited me. I was shocked when he smacked my face. At first I just stared at him. It was a light slap, but it left me flabbergasted. He immediately apologized, and offered to stop.
No, do it again. What a feeling. I didn't let him go to hard or too often. Just a few smacks interspersed to grab my attention. Did it ever. I went wild in a way I hadn't been able to with my previous partners. Despite his best efforts I wasn't relaxed enough to get off with him.
He was sweet, and paid for my taxi since I insisted on getting back to my ex girlfriend. We still keep in contact. I'd like to see him again. When I got back to where we were staying she was afire with jealousy. She passionately finished me off to remind me of why I like women. I still have the sticker posted in my room that says "I just got Ducked."


Award for funniest breakup (when we weren't dating)
Also for dancing so well I ‘forgot’ to notice how dumb she was

I started spending time with this pretty little thing that sucked on my face for hours at the gay dance club. I should've known when I was fucking her in the bathroom stall that it wouldn't lead to conversation as stimulating. She and I had a fling that lasted a few weeks. I loved her reckless energy, unfortunately she wasn't very clever. And she was too eager to find acceptance. She kept buying me gifts, which admittedly where very thoughtful and sweet. When I tried to make it clear that I we weren't dating her eyes would glaze over. With a sigh I thanked her for her gift of antique pins. "You really know my style. You have impeccable taste."
Here it comes, this is what she said that made me dump her on the spot.
"Yeah, I'm really observative that way."
Pause.
And she didn't even notice what she'd said wrong.
"They're very nice, but I don't give my friends these kinds of gifts."
Pause.
She didn't clue in.
I broke it down for her on the street corner. She didn't cry. I think she put it together later.

Award for most awkward breakup (when we weren't dating).
Also for softest skin

We looked somewhat similar, and we shared our first name. I've since put a moratorium on dating women who either look like me or have my name. There was no major disaster or success in our story. She wasn't boring or dull, too immature, or too stupid. She was clever, ambitious, independent, supportive, fun, and artsy. Too much like me to date.
Though I wouldn't mind hooking up again if it was spontaneous. But I will never make plans with her,and that probably why I ended it. I decided this as she was cumming in my mouth. I took a few minutes to draw her sprawled on the best satiated. We both knew what it meant when we looked at the finished piece and it was lack luster. Then tried to leave gracefully. No such luck.
Through our combined idiocy we ended up in the lobby of her building locked out of her apartment, and I was the only one wearing pants. Being of similar size and shape I gave her my pants while I hid under the stairs beside a moose head mounted on a plaque that had been taken down.
During the time she tried to get a hold of her landlord, I contemplated throwing the hideous decor through her front window to let her in and making a pants-less escape. Instead I waited for her. Standing half naked in her front yard I boosted her through her front window. After changing into my clothes I left awkwardly only to return a few minutes later to ask her to lend me bus tickets.



Picture unrelated. This is from Sexapalooza. I like being pants-less in public.

Award for furthest cum shot

I am 5"2 and lying on the bed, while he stood at the edge. He pulled out of my mouth and came down the length of my body. ALL OF IT. That was some serious propulsion. Next time I'm going to see if he can hit the ceiling. I want a slow motion capture camera to catch the mad hang time. I'm talking about Efram here, he warned me ahead of time. Though he said 5 meters. So obviously I called him out on it. But I was impressed nonetheless.

Currently Efram is the winner of the Award for best fuck ever.
Though that's a title he'll have to defend rigorously.

Tales From The Crypt

I am among the tiny fraction of people in existence who has had this experience.
To the Tune of David Bowie's China girl. Those petite asian girls with freckles do it to me every time. Faces meant to be kissed.

Emergency Eject Button

Back from my latest trip to Bogenville. What a fun time, I learned so much about death, sex, trains, Efram, and myself. I decided that instead of doing strips about all the sexy memories, I ought to keep it down to earth.
This is one of the more horrifying and hilarious moments.

And now my tits are on the net Can I take this time to point out that I have an excellent sense of outfit coordination? That apron matches my aureoles smashingly. Unless I decide to find employment making a line of skin tone flattering aprons for exhibitionists I am hence forth unable to get a proper job. How my heart aches for the professionalism of a suit and tie. Maybe a top hat, and a cane, a little dance number. I could swing it after all.
These are my soon to be famous crepes. I've been improving.

Granola oatmeal recipe:
350F
2c oatmeal
1/2c flax seeds
1/2c almonds
1/2c sesame seeds
1/4c sunflower seeds
1/4c pumpkin seeds
1tbsp cinnamon
1 orange zested

mix together

then in a separate bowl mix
2tbsp egg white
1tbsp honey
1bsp canola oil
1tsp vanilla

mix both bowls together, and bake on a cookie sheet for 10-12 min, stirring every 5 min.
I then put a coat of shredded coconut and cranberries and broiled for 1 min to sear the coconut.
serve with fresh cut fruit. Serve with either yogurt or whip cream or as cereal (vanilla soy milk is tasty).

The apron fetish most likely stems from being a stylish submissive at heart. Cooking topless for friends sets me aflutter. I know my the bandmates of my bud's appreciate my impromptu cooking, though wonder why I have my own apron with me at all times. This is because my first boyfriend took me by surprise as I was bent over naked, cleaning the tub. Maybe it was the fumes of the cleaning agents, but I loved it. Did you spill on the floor? I don't mind bending over in a short skirt to wipe it up. Bounce and I are well acquainted.

Cleaning is not inherently sexual, otherwise my room would be far tidier. But rather the act of giving, and serving is what I find sexy. In small doses mind you. Cooking with friends drinking wine is the best way to spend an evening.
Things brings me to sushi. Nyotaimori, is a subdivision of food play. The act of eating sushi that has been laid on a naked body is an alluring prospect to me. Not only have I trained my endorphins to react to sushi, the potential of submissiveness is unending. First, I LOVE making sushi (in aprons!) then I become a canvas for the artful rolls. Then I must breathe shallowly and keep myself from talking so as not to shake off the main course.

Im not sure how I feel about this kind of passive objectification. Normally I feed off of attention, lots of it. This scene could go either way; the plate could be ignored, or the be praised for her great mastery of sushi and discipline.
I wonder if there are films about nyotaimori reminiscent to Secretary? The film follows Maggie Gyllenhaal, an awkward cutter, who finds herself working for a very kinky, somewhat frightening paralegal; E.Edward Grey - played by James Spader. You should all watch with someone you'd like test the s/m waters withl! See if you notice the subtle riding hood/fairytale homages?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28W3d3brIf0&feature=related

No spoilers here, just a small taste of the fantasy of really working for your boss.

Nude bodies on poles and slabs

I am concocting a supreme gourmet oatmeal; coconut, apricots, cranberries, sesame seeds, sunflower seeds, flax, cinnamon, and pumpkin seeds abound. After baking, to be topped with strawberries, bananas, nutella and whip cream.

Playing house to compensate for the slow bleed of innocence from the last two days.
The similarity between the morgue and the strip club is that in both cases, I try to relate and personify what everyone else sees as an object.
The corpse, of an old woman who had lived with an amputated leg, wore remnants of a manicure.
The stripper I spent hours talking to, kept hers short because she likes to work on trucks. She said to Efram "Your friend is nice, but don't ever let her be a dancer."

So I'll wear a frilly apron and make breakfast at 8pm. Glancing at the pile of hair extensions she left in the apartment. I think back to how I snuck on stage after they'd closed. Scuffing the slick tiles with my winter boots, wondering how these girls glide across it on their knees. It can seem so glamorous, but from here I can see the coke machine's reflection, the soccer game, and the cracks in the plaster where the pole disappears into the ceiling.

I pretended (And for a moment-) I was interested in becoming a stripper. I asked the women how they felt about their jobs, and if they had advice to offer. After hearing what they had to say, and their attitudes, I changed my mind. I don't have what it takes, whatever that is. Discipline, savoir faire, the ability to detach from my emotions. The women seemed to like the money, but not the job itself. Statistically there must be tons of private dancers who love the job. And I am absolutely a supporter of the right to earn money through sex work.

"Look at him like a wallet, or your car insurance payment, your groceries. That's how you get it done."
This made me cringe. I really enjoy pleasing my customers when I work in cafes or restaurants or in retail. Seeing the client as a sale always makes me hate my job. But when I'm open, honest, and really believe that I'm lucky to meet new people, the same tasks are infinitely more rewarding.

"If you really want to get into erotic dancing, listen up. This is the best advice you're ever going to hear. It applies to any career. Don't do drugs, or drink. This is a job, be sober. It's easy to get sucked into addiction in this field. Put $100 a night into an envelope, when you reach $1000 tuck it away. You have to be able to rely on yourself when you're unexpectedly out of work."
This was from the oldest dancer there. Massive implant, very classy choreography. Like a lounge singer.

One girl was hammered. She screamed "I just need a cock in my ass" to no one in particular. I suspect she was high on something. Very exuberant, so her dance was attention grabbing. I thought I was overtly sexual, maybe a bit salacious at times.
People laugh when I tell them I'm naive. I've got nothing on Sweet Nicky. Sweet is something of a misnomer.

On the opposite side of the spectrum is Jackie; she likes working on her truck. Explores her artistic side through wood burning. She kick boxes and is engaged to her high school sweetheart. She doesn't hustle. And didn't seem to mind ignoring her patrons to chat with me for a few hours. A relatively normal girl, around my age, who is genuinely friendly. And has a fun stage performance. If I was a stripper, I'd be like her. A REAL PERSON. I'm sure I'd have something of a stage persona a little more confidant, enough attitude and presence to demand respect. Not girls gone wild, high, and screaming for more dick.


The other older woman there was cranky. It was her last day on the job. She was engaged. Her fiance bought a house, she wouldn't have to work anymore. She also had insurmountably massive breasts. I got the impression that committing to the business meant succumbing to the pressures of 'ideal beauty.' A sweet girl, Katie, was morose at the start of her night. I hope I was able to cheer her up a bit by lending her a sympathetic ear. She had to dump her boyfriend within the week because he was leaving on a tour with a fellow dancer. They'd stop in clubs all over rural quebec and do shows. "You have to keep moving if you want to make money." She came home with Efram's roommate. Under normal lighting her makeup was austere. Washing her face with baby wipes in the bathroom she confessed that occasionally she doesn't shower for up to four days and smells like man hands. I wasn't sure if this was a joke. I got a picture of Efram in her extensions. Her chin length hair is very sweet, and emphasizes how doe eyed she is. I'd have much rather drawn her like that then when she gave me a pro-bono lap dance at the club. (which was all kinds of sexy regardless of her clinical instructions on how to emulate the dance.) At our house she dressed me in one of her extra outfits. Hygiene is of the utmost importance, and is not overlooked. She kept each outfit washed in separate bags. Dressed as a true erotic dancer I gave Efram a little dance. I'm glad to have retained some of what Katie demonstrated. I was at the time; flushed and suppressing immoderate giggles.
She gave me a guised look of terror when I suggested I make us all crepes in the next morning. She didn't stick around long, though her new friend and I visited her the next day to return the outfit she'd leant me. We talked about the best sites to stream movies online from while she took a smoke break in the snowy February night pants-less. Just as I left I handed her the URL to this site. I hope the ladies see this.
And to them;
Thank you very much. You've granted me a lot of insight, though barely enough to satiate my curiosity. I would like to try stripping one day. I'm naked enough at friend's houses just chilling around. Though it's been a while since I've made a spectacle of myself. At least a month since my public flogging at Sexapalooza.



If I was a stripper I'd love showing off too much to stop and force myself to dance for anyone repulsive. And if I was a prostitute, I'd fall in love with the good inside every client. I've never been good at doing what I don't want to ;) And a delicate yet exposed heart is one of my best features.
I should just strip for pretty women. I wonder if that's a lucrative market?