Author name: admin

This is a creative piece, speaking as best I can for another as a therapeutic exercise. hello, i asked you to go away today, because I love you i didn’t want to see you today, because I love you i collapsed in tears after you spoke to me, because I love you i suppose this […]

If you seduce me under false pretenses, Tell me sweet nothings Hold me through the night Whisper, I love you Play games with me (but only the fun kind) Spend time with me, walk with me And then, after two weeks, three months, or ten years, to jump out from behind your mask, shouting, “Hah,

Food. Sex. Sleep. We all have our basic needs in our own Maslow’s pyramids. Mine happen to be food, sex, and sleep. In that order. If you try to have intimate relations with me, without properly satisfying my first requirement, prepare for the kitty to meowl at you. But I don’t know what to get

Everyone has their ‘peak,” physically speaking. For some of us, it’s very early. Almost too early. Pedophiles and creepy older dudes hitting on us. Anyone, after all, who wants us when we are 10, 12, is either another stumbling ten year old or a creep. I wouldn’t know, I didn’t bloom until much later…but I

Thank you for inviting me to your special day. That being said, don’t ever. ever, ever do it again. My life is not a fucking Taylor Swift song. So let’s drop the bullshit, please. Why did you ask me along today? Why did you want us in the same room? I didn’t want to be

Sometimes I’m good at instinctively knowing what people want, but it’s not always that simple to delve into a person’s true self. more often I find out. By talking to them, by listening to them, by spending years with them. I like doing this for people. It makes me feel like I have a purpose, like a practical guardian angel.

Someone told me that my partner (I suppose they thought I could only have one, or perhaps it was a “general” partner, as in the “general” you) needed to be my biggest cheerleader. I appreciated the thought, while immediately dismissing it as not relevant to my own situation. “I don’t need a cheerleader,” I told

They tell you they can’t meet you at munches. They’re too introverted. They are scared to go to a munch. They don’t think they’d fit it. …but they want to date you, a kinky person. And for a lot of us, that means meeting at munches. Not coffee shops. Not our homes, or their homes.

I wrote about one kind of domme, the other day. But I also have frustration with the other sort that, well, dominates the media. The Dominatrix. Powerful, whip cracking, latex clad. When most vanilla folk think of dommes– from every observation I’ve gathered, though I may be wrong– they picture Angelina Jolie from Mr. and