Kewl
I just don’t get it. What the hell is the purpose of that “word.” It’s not a word. It’s not an abbreviation. There is absolutely no point to it. The ridiculousness of its usage baffles me.
Close Only Counts in Horseshoes July 25, 2009
Tomorrow was going to come much sooner than I thought. Monday I got a call requesting an interview for a preschool position near my parents. I hadn’t applied for it, but had applied for a first grade position with the district in early June. So much time had passed, I’d forgotten all about the position. It was a pleasant surprise. The principal wanted to meet me halfway so I wouldn’t have to drive the whole way (it’d be at least an hour and a half drive), and also called my parents when I hadn’t returned her original call right away (I had, in fact, but for some reason she didn’t get the message). The interview was Thursday and everything sounded really positive. I was ridiculously excited – I would be in a smaller community, relatively close to my parents, working for a school district (which came with a $10,000+ raise), teaching preschool. It was everything I wanted!
But, I didn’t get the job. She said it was a very difficult decision and it came down to me and one other person. The deciding factor was that the other person had taught preschool there 5 years before and was familiar with the district. I was crushed. Given how actively she’d pursued me (calling my parents for goodness sakes!) it sounded like it was close to a done-deal. I did immensely appreciate her encouraging words though and know that I would definitely have an advantage if I apply for another job in that district in the future.
I was SO close to getting what I wanted. And, it’s going to make it even harder to go back to where I’m working. My boss is a control freak and a complete flake (yeah, not a good combination!) I had been getting excited about this upcoming year but then my boss vetoed a couple ideas my co-worker and I had and I had the chance to leave, so now I’ve lost my excitement mojo for this upcoming year. I want OUT!
As I was crying on the phone to my mom last night, she told me about a conversation my dad had had with a woman in town. She’d been working for this manufacturing place for 23 years and it’s closing. She had no post-high school education and since she worked on an assembly line all those years, didn’t really develop any skills. Plus, manufacturing jobs are becoming harder to find these days. She has no idea what she’s going to do. So, I know I should stop bitching.
Spreading Ones Seed July 18, 2009
For quite a while I’ve wanted to adopt children, as opposed to having them myself. Part of it is selfish (weight is hard enough for me to fight, a baby would make that even more difficult) but the bigger part is that I feel “called” to adopt. There are a ton of children out there who need homes (and no, I’m not one of those people who will only take a baby). This has been a major issue with some past boyfriends. They needed their *own* children. They couldn’t raise someone elses baby. I’ve found that that is not an uncommon opinion among men. The thing that really gets me is if a girl *can’t* have a child, then they’d probably be okay with adoption, but if she *chooses* not to, then it’s not okay. It really pisses me off. Naively, I thought the whole “spreading their seed” thing had gone out with the rise of feminism. Why I thought that, I’m not sure but obviously I was wrong.
Today I was reading a TIME article about infidelity (seriously, there’s another politician getting caught cheating on his wife every other freaking week!) In it there was a quote from Obama that I *really* liked.
We need fathers to step up, to realize that their job does not end at conception; that what makes you a man is not the ability to have a child but the courage to raise one.
I know, he wasn’t exactly talking about what I was but it fits my philosophy also. I am so using this quote in the future when a guy balks at adoption!
Different Kind of Post July 18, 2009
The “dom” I was talking to told me to write a story about visiting the grocery store while following his requirements, since I wasn’t actually going to do it. So, I did. I figured I would post it so it doesn’t feel like as big of a waste of time as it really was. I’m not good at erotic writing. I’m such a practical person that I can’t let go of what it would *really* be like and just write about what would make it hot.
Plus, to me the story is a whole lot of B.S. Doing something like he asked does NOT turn me on. It’s not one of those situations like when a sub says they don’t like pain and yet they get dripping wet when they think about it or it happens. “Public” play is just not at all a kink for me, which I’ve found people often doubt or dismiss because it is such a common kink. For instance, the second time I had sex it was in the back of a truck behind a deserted barn on a forgotten dirt road – pretty secluded. I hated every minute of it. I just laid there, praying for it to end because I was so damn nervous about getting caught. There was *nothing* sexy about it for me (which pisses me off because I do think the guy is probably a good lay). Alright, enough about that. On with the story.
~*~*~
Grateful that it’s not a warm day, I plant my bare ass on the leather seats of my car. My hands shake as I grab the wheel and put the car into reverse. Maybe if I just don’t think about what I’m going to do, I won’t be so nervous. Just pretend I’m running a quick errand on my way to a wedding. But the cool reminder of the leather seat on my naked ass is a constant reminder, forcing my current situation to the forefront of my mind. I choose the grocery store closest to my house, regretting my decision on the way. I could go instead to the one across town, thus delaying my humiliating walk through the endless isles of the grocery store. At the last minute I decide to go with my original choice of the one nearby; it’s significantly less busy than any of the others in town.
I get out of my car as quickly as possible, scared that someone will notice I am without panties. As I reach down to lock my doors, I notice a wet spot on the seat where my pussy had been. Despite my hands shaking, my pussy had been dripping.
Having just gone grocery shopping the day before, there really was little I needed to get so I opted for a basket instead of a cart. Walking past the customer service counter, I avoided eye contact with the line of people returning their cans, even though deep down I knew they probably hadn’t even noticed I walked through the door.
On my way through the produce, I get my first “knowing” glance. I doubt the old bitty knew what I was really up to, but it was quite obvious she disproved of what I was wearing. I felt my face literally turn red as I picked up my pace, only to slow right back down as I have little experience walking in heels.
Down the first isle where I planned to get mushrooms for some spaghetti sauce, there’s a young man stocking shelves. I hesitate for a moment, thinking maybe I can just skip this isle. But He said I had to go down every isle. I hold my head high, while keeping my eyes downcast, trying to act oblivious to the stock boys presence. As I reach up to get the mushrooms, he glances my way. I notice out of the corner of my eye that as he quickly looks away, a smirk crosses his face. Again my face turns read as I continue down the aisle, fighting back tears of embarrassment. He must assume that I’m an easy little slut. Maybe he’s right.
Filled with gratitude towards the powers that be or the universe or whatever, I gather a few items uneventfully (meaning without running into another person) from the next few aisles. My luck ran out as I turned into the cereal aisle, bumping into a woman’s cart, forcing me to drop my purse. Instinct tells me to bend down to pick it up, especially considering the panties and bullet inside. But as I’m bending down, I remember my naked ass under my skirt. I pause only slightly, knowing I have to pick up my purse. As I stand back up and quickly apologize to the woman I ran into, I can feel my pussy lips rub together, thoroughly wet.
I quickly make my way up and down the personal hygiene and home care aisles, making my way to the frozen food section. The whole way through the store I had been dreading those two aisles. Everyone knows what happens to a girl’s tits when they get cold. Knowing actually opening one of the freezer doors would make things worse, I went ahead and picked out a frozen pizza anyway. Is it possible that in some subconscious way I was sabotaging myself? Nipping out would just make me more self-conscious which was why this whole experience was so painful for me.
As I walked towards the check-out, I quickly grabbed some batteries. I tried to be discreet about it but still felt as if every eye in the place was on me and knew that in a few minutes, I would place those batteries in my vibrator, making myself cum and tasting my juices on some country road.
Walking through the check-out I swore I caught a whiff of my pussy, grateful there weren’t actually juices dripping down my legs. While usually friendly with the checkout people, I again avoided eye contact and kept conversation as short as possible.
Once to my car, I was again wracked with anxiety. What if a breeze came up while I was putting my bags in my car? What if the old guy behind me got a peek of my ass as I climbed back into my car? I quickly unlock my car and throw the bags into the front seat with me, again placing my bare ass on my leather seats.
No More Doms for This Girl July 12, 2009
As I’ve written recently, I have had some submissive fantasies cropping up lately. I do have both submissive and dominant profiles on collarme. Yeah, I could just do one and list myself as a switch but I’m looking for either a relationship with a dominant or a relationship with a submissive – I don’t switch within a single relationship.
A week or so ago a couple (about 3 hours away) contacted me. I talked with the dom a couple times (probably totalling around 5 hours). He seemed really nice and normal – had a submissive wife and kids. Then he proposed that I submit to him for an afternoon. Everything went well for a while – even though he had no idea whether I was actually submitting to him or not, there was a rush when I did as he said. Eventually he gave me my big assignment – to wear a short skirt, spaghetti strap top, high heels and no bra or panties to the grocery store. I was to buy whatever I needed, plus batteries. I was to put a pair of panties and my bullet in my purse. After the grocery store I was to pull over somewhere and get myself off, but it had to last at least 15 minutes (usually it only takes me a couple minutes!)
At first I agreed, nervously but agreed nonetheless. I got dressed as he asked and was walking out the door but then I stopped. I just couldn’t go through with it. I am a fairly modest person. Any sort of public display of affection makes me uncomfortable, whether it’s witnessing it or taking part myself. Holding hands in public is difficult for me! Even wearing jeans without panties would be a big deal for me – not to mention a short (by my standards anyway) light tan skirt! Plus, the city I live in isn’t exactly a big city. The odds of running into someone I know are extremely high. I’ve taught close to 80 kids so me running into one of my students & their parents isn’t unlikely either. I explained all of this to the dom but he said I was just making up excuses. He said that’s what I always do – run away when things get tough and that I will not be happy until I can overcome my fears. He said that I need to do it for myself, not for him.
I was just thinking, “Excuse me? You’ve talked to me online for a handful of hours and yet you know me well enough t say what I *need* to be happy?” He assured me that I would eventually regret my decision and was shocked when I hadn’t regretted it by the next day. Obviously he didn’t know me as well as he thought he did, as it’s been almost a week and I haven’t had a tinge of regret yet.
The whole experience was a good refresher for me though. I’d forgotten how bad so many dom’s suck. He really is very stereotypical of most of the “doms” I’ve met online. I looked back through our conversations and it became quite obvious he thought he was far superior to me. While some subs do feel that their doms are superior to them, I am not one of them. As a person I am their equal; I would simply have a different role within our relationship. That is the way I see my subs also – I don’t think I’m superior to them simply because I am their domme. Anyway, back to our conversations. For every one of my comments, he made 6-7. He would just keep talking and talking and talking. There was no give-and-take in the conversation. It wasn’t even a conversation – he would talk and I would listen (or rather, he would type and I would read). And the fact that he felt he could psychoanalyze me after talking with me for such a short time – how fucking arrogant!
Backtracking a bit, I do think there is a tad bit of truth in the me running away thing. I have chickened out when things get too intense with doms but I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. I look back and none of the doms I’ve chickened out with have been quality. I don’t think it was necessarily chickening out – it was my instinct kicking in. I don’t back down from things in person – not that I’ve submitted a lot in person. If a dom is actually right there with me to push me, I don’t back down. Another aspect of it is that I’m not going to push myself waaaaaaaaaaay out of my comfort zone for someone I hardly know. If a guy who I’ve been submitting to for months asked me to do what that dom asked of me, I think I’d be able to overcome my fears to do it. You don’t just jump to a subs limits the first time you chat. Duh.
Needless to say, I’ve had my fill of submitting for a while.
~*~*~
The day after all this anxiety with the dom, was the day Hunter came for his visit. After he’d left I realized something utterly embarrassing (to me, at least – I get embarrassed by the dumbest things!) Right above my pussy “LJ’s slut” was written in permanent marker, per the doms request. I had totally forgotten it was there! The thought of Hunter seeing it petrified me. I wondered why in the world he hadn’t said anything. I texted him and discovered he hadn’t noticed it. How he missed it, I have no idea but I was relieved. I doubt it would have phased him but I’ve always been afraid that if a sub saw me do something submissive, it would lessen my dominance in their eyes. It’s all good though 
The Night That Almost Wasn’t July 10, 2009
Hunter came over the other night. It was the first time I’d seen him in quite a while. I was on vacation, then he was on vacation, and our schedules just didn’t mesh. Story of us.
There was some drama though. Nothing with him can be easy. That boy drives me crazy, in so many ways. We had plans for him to come over sometime after I got off work. I texted him the night before, confirming he was coming, and reminding him that he needed to cum before he came. Everything was good to go. But, when I got off work I couldn’t get a hold of him. I didn’t hear from him until waaay later in the evening when I received a text saying “I forgot and started drinking with my roommate. sorry” I was not happy.
How can you forget about getting some? Seriously, I was insulted by it. I would *never* forget about plans like that. I was surprisingly emotionally detached from it though. Yeah, I was pissed but I wasn’t raging mad like I have been in the past. And I didn’t come anywhere close to tears. In the past when he’s pulled shit like this, it made me bawl my eyes out. I’m very pleased that I’ve been able to emotionally detach from him (knock on wood). A while after his original text, I sent one back saying not to bother contacting me again. He most certainly didn’t listen. For the next hour or so we texted back and forth, with me trying to convey how upset I was and him not taking me seriously at all.
Finally, I told him to get his ass over to my place or he’d never see me again. He used the drinking excuse so I simply told him to sober up and that I’d wait up – it didn’t matter how late he got here. I could tell by his texts that he wasn’t too far gone, otherwise I wouldn’t have pushed the issue (when he’s really been drinking they aren’t readable). When he finally showed up I could smell the alcohol on him but he was just fine.
He gave me a hug while I stood there with my hands at my side. We spent quite a while standing there, him holding and trying to kiss me, and me very blatantly refusing his advances. I lectured him extensively about his actions and how he made me feel. He assured me it wouldn’t happen again. But, I felt some physical punishment was in order to reiterate the point.
He laid naked on the couch while I sat on the floor, leaning onto the couch. I went to town flicking his cock and balls with my index finger. I’ve done that to him before but never as extensively as I did that night. It got a dramatic reaction from him. It was quite pleasant…for me! I then moved on to spanking him. I had a huge pizza paddle and wooden spoon sitting out the whole time so he knew it was coming. I don’t know if that impacted his headspace beforehand or not; I should have asked. I’ve written before about how much I enjoy the wooden spoon. Using something so cliche makes me feel like such a novice but damnit, it gets the best reaction! The pizza paddle didn’t get nearly as much reaction out of him (the smaller implements seem to work better for him/us…is that true for most people?) but it did give his ass a very even red tone. I found that to be much hotter than the random little red blotches that the wooden spoon leaves. But, I didn’t use the paddle much. As I’ve said before, it’s all about the reaction for me. I really wailed on his ass. It’s the first time I’ve literally taken my anger out on him. In the past when I’ve punished him I detached because I’ve always been told you shouldn’t strike out of anger in a scene. While I agree with that for the most part, I was still totally in control and it’s not like I was all out flogging him or anything. The moments when I let myself get angry and really wail on him only lasted a few moments, and then I would back off and let him recover. It was fucking hot though and it felt so damn good to get that negative energy out.
Originally I intended to only beat him and send him home – not eating me and definitely no fucking. But, I just can’t pass up the opportunity to have him when he’s with me. Each time could be the last time and if it does end up being the last time, I’d totally kick my own ass for not fucking him. I let him go down on me and he ate me out for quite a while. It’s the closest I’ve gotten to cumming from a guy going down on me. It was hot. And, of course it made me want him in me like no other. So, that’s exactly what I told him – “I want you inside of me.” He was happy to oblige.
It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would, which really worked to his advantage. I only intended for him to fuck me for a few seconds - just enough for me to feel his cock in me, which is the biggest thing that does it for me. Since it felt good, I let him fuck me for a little longer. A little longer was still only a minute or two though, hehe. I gave him 5 more thrusts, then he was to pull out and cum on my pussy. He whined and said, “But I can’t come like that.” What bullshit. He pulled out when I told him to and came within 5-10 seconds. Him not being allowed to cum in me was a punishment in and of itself. I really like him cumming on my pussy – then I gets some more attention from his tongue (I almost always make him eat his own cum).
He admitted that he thinks I wouldn’t have gone through with my threat not to see him again. There’s a good chance he was right – I probably wouldn’t have gone through with it. In some random moment of weakness, I would have contacted him and he would have weaseled his way into being forgiven yet again. But each time I grow more and more detached. I think he knows I’m getting close to walking away for good. For my own good I hope I’m close to that point. It’s demeaning and embarrassing to myself to put up with his shit.
Our Shallow Society July 9, 2009
There’s a new show that’s coming out called “More to Love.” It’s basically “The Bachelor” for fat chicks. I think it’s so sad (not for myself but for society as a whole) that we have to have a special show for non-model type girls. To not include bbw girls in the regular Bachelor is one thing, but then to have a special show just for big chicks? I get that different people find different things attractive but if we have to have a Bachelor for big girls, why don’t we have one of just chicks with small tits, or one for just red heads? By giving bbw women their own show, they’re very blatantly acknowledging that they were not worthy of being on the regular Bachelor.
I know it comes down to ratings and such but either way, it demonstrates how shallow our society has become.
It’s the Little Things July 6, 2009
I am in heaven right now. My sister is gone for the next two weeks so I have the house to myself! I’m keeping the thermostat at a tolerable temperature (I’m all about saving money and conserving energy but she takes it to an extreme) and best of all…I get to sleep naked! I never do when she’s here becacuse it’s too big of a pain to put clothes on whenever I have to get up in the night. I love it!
Living for Tomorrow July 4, 2009
In high school I lived for the future. I remember the first time I didn’t want to die (not to imply I was always suicidal, just that if I had been given the choice to live or die, I would have chosen not to live) – it was the first time I visited the college I would later attend. It gave me so much hope for the future. I was absolutely miserable in high school. There were only 51 people in my graduating class so it was hard to find a group to fit in with. Add in the fact that it’s a small town and thus most of the individuals I went to school with also had small minds (I once had a teacher refer to bin Laden as a “towel head”). It was rough for me. But, like I said, I lived for college. Hopes for what college would be literally got me through high school.
And for me college lived up to my expectations. I was ridiculously happy and I made a conscious effort to savor every minute of it. I enjoyed my classes and had the best group of friends a person could ask for.
But now that I’m in the “real world” I find myself living for the future again. It’s not that I’m unhappy like I was in high school – I just want the future to be NOW. I am so excited to make my parents grandparents, to settle down near them and start raising my kids with a farmer’s work ethic, small town hospitality, and thirst to change the world. This is all a pretty recent development too – within the past 3-4 months. Before then I had been pretty happy with my simple little life teaching preschool, living with my sister. I think part of it is that it will take years for me to accomplish what I want. It will take at least two years to save up to even start the adoption process, plus another year or two to save up for a down payment on a house when I get a child (luckily, real estate around my parents is fairy cheap in comparison to most areas). So, I’ll be pushing 30 before any of this can happen. That bums me out.
Going to the Chapel July 4, 2009
Note: This is a pity post so consider yourself warned.
I feel like all of my exes are either married or getting married. Okay, not all – I’m pretty sure Hunter isn’t engaged or anything. I just found out today that the guy I crushed on really bad in high school (we were so cute – met at a “barn dance” – literally, it was “love” at first sight and he eventually had his first kiss with me) is married. No idea when it happened or anything – we just became facebook friends and that’s how I discovered it. I am so disappointed. I never wanted anything with him (he’s kind of a man-whore) but he was fun to flirt with every few years when we saw each other. Damn.
Carter is engaged. How you go from getting a ring for one girl one month and proposing to a different one two months later, I don’t know. Most of the time that doesn’t bother me a whole lot because we never talk anymore. I made it clear that I would never be able to believe a word out of his mouth again, thus making a friendship impossible.
The guy who I consider to be my “first love” is engaged. We dated on and off all the way through high school. Only had sex once though – in the bed of his truck on a country road (it wasn’t enjoyable though – I was too damn nervous about getting caught!) Shortly after the truck incident we had a falling out and didn’t talk for four years. We are now to the point where we can socialize fairly comfortably if we’re ever in the same place together. And, he’s still just as hot as he was in high school. Damn.
I know all three of those guys aren’t meant for me. For one, none of them are kinky. The first guy from high school is far too much of a goofball for me (I like a goofy guy but he takes it to an extreme) and I highly doubt he could successfully make a lifetime commitment to someone. Carter obviously isn’t the one considering he’s a pathological liar. The “first love” guy is obnoxious and says inappropriate things in public. My parents always called him “a fart in a skillet.”
It bothers me that it bothers me that they’re married/engaged. It makes me fear that I never will be. Which I remind myself wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I will still have children and be happy, even if I don’t ever get married. But obviously I would prefer to spend my life with someone. I guess I just feel like a loser since I haven’t met anyone yet (yes, I know that’s stupid!) My exes are getting married and I’m hardly even dating anyone.
/pity party
