Unfortunately, given my state of affairs with Ninja and his continued reading of this place, it’s best for me to not write in this blog anymore. Since I have gotten into the habit of documenting my sex life I’m going to make another elsewhere eventually, but I can’t redirect to it.
Thanks to those who have visited… maybe you’ll find me again. I’ve learnt my lesson, anyway. See ya :]
I’m sitting in my dorm room, pretty exhausted. Tomorrow is an art history exam, and I’m taking a break from studying. I got out of my street clothes and on my way to my pajamas found a nice long sweater that just ties in the front. I decided to put that on instead, and wear it like a robe. It’s comfortable, and I feel relaxed and sexy. I like to feel this way. It’s length is just enough that it covers my butt and continues the curve of it. I do enjoy that shape. My beg ol’ legs stick out, and I see, upon looking in the mirror, the nice v-neck I’ve got going on along with the tasty cleavage of my breasts.
This is the closest to a “dress” I have come in a very long time. I wore dresses at the school dances, and I have a nifty piece of clothing that transforms into many dress shapes that I’ve worn on occasion. I rarely would show my legs, even when I was highly underweight. A pair of capris I’ll wear, but it wasn’t my favorite. Well, until Ninja started giving me those compliments. Anyway, I don’t really feel pretty all that often purposefully. It’s more of a “oh, I actually look nice today,” with a lingering look in the mirror. Sometimes I would like to wear a skirt and some heels, but it’s just not me. I don’t weark make-up and I don’t often wear extravagant or obviously flattering things because I simply don’t recognize myself in them. I kind of shoot myself in the foot, I think. Looks great on other women, but not on me. Except, well, I never try those things on anymore.
Speculation as to why is minimal. My body image fluxuates severely. Maybe it’s just because I can’t afford to buy fancy nonsense shit.
Lingerie, of course, is something that has crossed my mind. I find corsets extremely sexy and pretty. I’d totally wear one. And garters. It just seems beautiful. But beautiful on me? Somewhere there must be something that would look good on me, but I’m not willing to expell the energy to do so, I guess. I’m not in the mood for disappointment, nevermind the fact that my wallet is too thin for that sort of luxury, too.
I once had Ninja show me some examples of corsets he liked. He has good taste. ‘Tis a shame I don’t think I can pull something like that off.
Bottom line is that no matter how bashful and shy I am, I’ve still been unbearably aroused. I swear it’ll start eating through my underwear. Thank goodness Brat Roommate is out for the night, I can masturbate to my heart’s content. However impossible that may be.
For my twentieth birthday I got both my nipples pierced — my first body modification. While the primary reason was to designate a sort of personal landmark in my life, I was also fueled by Ninja’s approval and the prospect of enhanced sensation. See, my breasts don’t have much sensitivity. A woman who can orgasm from nipple play I definitely am not. Not to say I didn’t enjoy them being played with, but, well, it was unfortunate that I didn’t get much out of it physically. I got them done at a parlor near his apartment, and he held my hand. The procedure didn’t hurt one bit (the clamps were most uncomfortable, and the feeling of the needle going through the layers of skin was something pretty weird) and I had no complications and almost no tenderness at all afterwards. My piercings are now three months old, and I timed it so that I got them done just a few days before I left my home state. That way, Ninja wouldn’t have to suffer through being banned from my nipples while they healed. Smart, right? Right!
So when Ninja’s first visit came around, I at least was pretty excited to see how my nipples would fare under his attention. I’m happy to note that they’re a hit! He likes to play with them, and I very much enjoy it when he does. Flicking them, fondling, licking and sucking, mm. It is the strangest sensation, but it gives me the tingles.
And sometimes that boy sucks hard on the things. And it hurt, but it feels too good for it to be a bad pain… I just got a shiver thinking about it. I’ve even got a nice hickey on my right breast from my visit at Thanksgiving. I wear it proudly, oh yes I do.
Now I just need to wait ’til January to have him again…
When I first started having intercourse, I admittedly was not worried about “being good.” My first time I didn’t have too much time to think about being good–we were interrupted by an infuriating number of phone calls from psycho Rufus. And since then, by the word of dear, authoritative Ninja, he hasn’t really had any complaints on my performance. In fact, he’s praised me for getting better (haha, all my researching was NOT done in vain). Thank god, right?
But now! I haven’t had sex in weeks, months! What if I forgot how? What if… what if…
No, impossible. I’m a quick learner, anyway. And, hell–I plan on picking up right where things left off… I think he’ll be pleased. I know I will be, oh yes. Oh yes.
My (future husband) confessed today that his ultimate fantasy is lifting my dress up and having his way with me as SOON as we get to our hotel on our wedding night. The bridezilla in me is screaming “Noo! It’ll ruin my $5000 dress!!!…that I’ll never wear again..but still!”
Wow. That woman is absolutely crazy. That would be awesome.
truebrideconfessions.com is an addictive site. It’s one of a handful of websites designed around anonymous confessions. Many deal with sex; too much sex, not enough, and everything in between. Really quite fascinating.
I still think that woman is messed up. I vow to never become Bridezilla. And, fuck that, I’ll never have a $5,000 dress. Take me to Italy instead.
Breathtaking Eros. What does that mean? It doesn’t matter. Ninja helped me out. Obviously, sex is not always breathtaking. But it’s definitely worth writing about. Maybe even reading about. That’s up for you to decide.
Now for a bit of a background on myself. A brief sexual background, as that’s what is relevant.
My first sexual experience was when I was very young, with my brother, who is five years older than myself. I don’t know what he did to me (I remember no feeling of pain), but he had an erection when he approached me, and he rushed me to the bathroom to wipe me off while apologizing when he was done. I don’t consider it to have hurt me mentally, physically, or emotionally, but sometimes I do wonder.
I started masturbating when I was about nine. I was supposed to be taking a nap when I got an itch. Something felt good, and when I felt the pulsing of orgasm, I thought it would never end and that I broke myself. But the pulsing did go away, and I kept it up. I did learn what it was that I was doing, mostly by breaking into my father’s stash of pornography, which I found while dusting in his room.
The next milestone was with Rufus at around the age of sixteen. She was hugging me as I cried into her chest, depressed and miserable, when she was at my house one night. Her leg between mine created that warm tingle, and with her clutching me tighter and tighter, she stimulated me. Through silence we went from sobbing to rubbing against one another in the heat of sexual gratification. I had an orgasm, and our friendship absorbed a strange new facet. It was best described as an openness; I was not attracted to her physically. We never were girlfriends, though she had other wishes as time went on. We would continue to masturbate around each other and be comfortable talking about sexual issues.
I bought myself a vibrator after my eighteenth birthday. I prefer my fingers, but I can get off via vibe and the shower head, as well as rubbing against the right surface.
Ninja came into my life in January and swept me off my feet. (Fuck you if the first thing that popped into your head was “cliché.”) I kept him hanging and forced him to earn his trust with my body, and I was quite skittish around his. That’s not to say that I didn’t want to, but my self-restraint is damnable. It took endless patience and assurance on his part (while almost all along I knew what I wanted, but could not give), I gave him my virginity, and he has kept me more satisfied than imaginable ever since. He had unknowingly dug up my libido, which is highly convenient. Now I’ve just got to coax out of myself some fantasies… the possibilities are endless.
Now I’m 800 miles away from Ninja, going to college. He’ll be visiting me in November, easing the dry spell, and this next semester he should/will be transferring to the very same college. I survive by masturbating while my roommates are gone or busy, and by looking at the pictures we send each other.
And now I’ll add “writing and reminiscing” to my survival strategy. Breathtaking Eros, this cherry’s been popped!