“The Decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story. It changes the relationship of two people much more strongly than even the final surrender; because this kiss already has within it that surrender.”

~ Emil Ludwig

I tell people kissing is underrated. It is so intimate, and so particular, it often gets missed. Kissing is the fingerprint for the rest of your sexuality. I have yet to have a relationship with someone I considered a bad kisser.

 

I think it is more intimate than fucking. I’ve had wild romps and never kissed the other person involved. I had a play partner who, because to the constraints of his primary, wasn’t allowed kissing as part of his scening. I spent a couple of years in service, where kissing was a rare and reserved bit of intimacy so scarce, it felt a semiprecious moment in time’s daily flow.

 

And in retrospect, that kinda sucked.

 

The last time someone kissed me, it was an interesting movement in the symphony of the whole encounter. Interestingly, before getting down to the business of deviant and perverted practices, we’d a conversation about kissing and the joys of simply making out. I then spent the next hour wondering when and if I was going to be able to sample this particular flavor of contact because of The Withholding. (more…)

“Why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open?

Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.”

~Jalal ad-Din Rumi

I don’t think I ever thought I would feel RELIEVED to say to myself

 

…I need to start over.

 

But I am, and I do.

 

The past few weeks have been challenging, emotionally. All of these challenges were unexpected. I’d been asking my higher power a lot of questions lately, and with His infinite patience, he as often as not calmed me with silence and a reassuring quiet. I am grateful for that. Because not much quiets my mind.
Pain does, so I am grateful when I can have it lovingly administered.

 

But yeah, I don’t often get to a place where a mere mortal can slice through my formidable emotional fortifications and get me to STFU inside. So when that happens I pay close fucking attention.

 

I recently sat, naked, face to face with another person, blinking wide-eyed across the divide between two beds in my hotel room at yet another kink event.

 

I wasn’t intentionally unclothed. I’d picked up a silk kimono on my way to answer the door, and was putting it on as I let my visitor into my room. Since he’d seen me naked for much of the night before, this modesty might seem a coy maneuver. But the fact is, I don’t like sitting around other people naked. However, even as I turned away to slip my arm into the cool sleeve, his hand slid it back off and took the robe away.

 

Well…okay. I guess I’ll just…be naked.

 

SO there I sat on one bed, him on the other, talking. I’ve not often felt entirely relaxed yet violently apprehensive simultaneously before. But then again, the facts of the situation were I’d just met this man, had had a rather intense evening, and now sat butt ass naked, a yard from him, and I was fidgety.

 

Fidgety and fucking nude.

 

I squished my legs together.

 

Folded one arm under my breasts.

 

Wished my legs weren’t so oddly proportioned as to render them uncrossable.

 

Tucked my hands into the opposite elbow folds in an effort to cover my nipples.

 

Turned slightly away.

 

Tried to focus on the conversation.

 

Found it difficult to concentrate as he watched me, not breaking the line of our discussion.

 

Then I saw his hand move. His hand lifted slightly at the wrist, fingers extended in a simple sweeping gesture, and returned to relax on his leg. He didn’t pause in his talking and I didn’t hesitate in unthinkingly unclenching my legs, straightening my spine, shifting to face him, laying my palms flat on my thighs, and looking him full in the eye. His lips curled in a slow, enigmatic smile and his gaze shifted for a moment, away from me,  as though he were focusing on…something.

 

After my body processed this moment, my conscious brain finally huffed up behind the action and stood there in shock.

 

Holy shit! What the fuck was that?! You…he…did you just do that reflex obedience thing? And with a fucking gesture? Holy shit. You, my friend, are fucked.

 

Could be, rabbit. Could be.

 

Well, so, you might have gathered I don’t run around feeling submissive often.

 

And when I get to the point where I’m responding to a silent command from some guy I just met, who somehow managed to get me to a place where I was receptive and paying attention to what he wanted, I have to stand down and pay attention.

 

The past couple of days have seen me having some of the more intensive emotional processes I’ve experienced in a while. I don’t see but that this will continue for a bit. And I’m happy. Because I realize what I need is to have someone I trust to help me go through and sort out and toss away a lot of ideas I have about myself that no longer serve me.

 

I also realize I have to raze the constructs within which I’ve been toiling because they are essentially shaky. Time to confess ignorance.

 

There is going to have to be a whole lot of working on this kid. A lot of the work won’t be transparent to the world for a bit more…but the core of it has to do with my having over-thought several simple things. My idea of who I am as a slave and submissive and what I need to do to get those needs met.

 

I confused activity with action.

 

I assumed I was open when I was furiously walling myself in.

 

But I’ve found someone who, by asking the right questions, has opened my heart in a very different way than I’ve felt before. I need to see where that goes…and even if it goes no further than where I am at this moment, it is profoundly moving.

 

Ah, the eternal question.

Whether it is the word or the connotation, calling people names is hot for many people, not just hardcore perverts.

But we all have preferences, and I’m curious…what does it for you?

Drop a note in the comment field if you wanna elaborate!

I have my personal preferences…

See, the mouthfeel of “slut” hasn’t ever worked for me. It is neither concept nor connotation, it is just the way the word flipfishily in my face.

“Whore…”however…whispered with heat and disgust tinged with…maybe…a little lust?

Wobblyextremity time.

Woo hoo! I’m on the Internets with Abiola Abrams!

Stay tuned…I might someday even be invited back!