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sweet longings of a piesexual

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 you!, you cry in frustration. I’ve let you peruse my pantry and nothing seems to please you!

Pie. Cherry Pie. Chicken Pot Pie. Any Pie.

I love all the pies. Raspberry. Apple. Blueberry. Key Lime. Lemon Meringue. Cheesecake (which I consider more pie than cake.) Meat pies. Shepherd’s pies. I could live off nothing but pie!

You can always satisfy me with pie. So by all means, put pie into my mouth.

Thank you, please!

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welcome to the club, curvy girl

If you’re a female presenting person who made it through the holidays without a single thought about your weight, allow me to give you a gluten free, sugar free, butter free, flavor free foodless cookie. You are, indeed, a rarity. Oh, well, at least there’s a silver lining. Sure you might have gained a few pounds that you ignored, but after all, it just makes you a curvy woman, right?

Well, I’m curvy, now what?

My first college boyfriend remarked, when I came back sophomore year, that I had “filled out nicely.” I wasn’t exactly sure how to take it, but it sounded like a compliment. I still looked more like a fashion model than a porn star. But I did look less like a prepubescent girl.

Everyone loves curvy women.  I appreciate an hourglass figure, but I rather wish I wasn’t defined by my curves. Because even when I achieved that “official woman status,” I still got left feeling empty.

“Curvy” doesn’t feel like a compliment to me, but rather another way for women to compare each other.

Nobody should feel less womanly for possessing a flat chest and no ass. We claim we wish to be seen for more than our physical attributes, yet we manage to simply find new ways of defining those physical attributes. We are so much more than our bodies, are we not?

And heaven forbid you are larger and don’t have curves! Or you have all the “good” curves, but you also have the “wrong” curves (larger stomach, bigger thighs, rolls).  

Nobody wants to see -those- curves. 

I get daily ads reminding me I need shapewear to make me look good in tight clothing. Because even at 119 lbs, I might have the “bad curves.” Oh, wear whatever you like. I’m merely irritated by the goddamn, perpetual message that we’re only beautiful when we showcase the curves that people find acceptable and sexy, and downplay the ones they find less appealing. 

That girl with the itty bitty waist and the round thing in your face? Please. Social media, photoshopped, CGI’d bodies aren’t real.

So let’s just be ourselves? Curves or no?

Show anything we like, wear what we like. And stop pretending that curves are what define us.  

Or at least admit that if you want amazing cleavage and ass– your tummy, thighs, and extra chins are part of the “curvy,” hour glass figure total package.

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my kink is pleasure




noun: hedonism

  1. the pursuit of pleasure; sensual self-indulgence.
    the ethical theory that pleasure (in the sense of the satisfaction of desires) is the highest good and proper aim of human life

Some say their kink is pain.  Whipping.  Impact play.  Rope bunny.  Me?  I say pleasure can be a kink.  I wonder if I’m alone in this, but I don’t believe so.

I’m a pleasure slut.  My kink is  French cooking.  Simple, intense, and leaves you needing a nap afterwards.  I want to feel the pleasure run through my body, my mind, my soul, insomuch as I believe in a soul.  If it brings me pleasure, I want more of it.   If it doesn’t do anything for me, I’ll abandon it.  If it doesn’t make my body shiver, shake, convulse, I eventually stop seeing the point.

I want orgasms.  Simple as that.

I am not aesthetic.  I need touch.  I need you with me.  I don’t want to tied up and suspended away from you, though I may enjoy the feeling of rope on my skin.  I don’t want pretty, purple bruises.  I don’t want to be photographed, unless it’s for a particular occasion and I spend extra time executing the design.

My skin, say my friends and occasionally near strangers I allow to touch me, is extraordinarily soft.  I make the most of this.  The slightest touch can send me into convulsions if my mind is properly placed.  I almost always ask for less.  I enjoy the very lightest of touches. I once used a violet wand on the lowest setting, which created an effect where the person’s hands conducted the electricity and it “massaged” my skin when they ran their fingers across my shoulders.  Or a mild tap of the riding crop (okay, a little harder!  but, no, not much).  I love to have my feet played with, every bit of my skin massaged and scratched, each nerve stimulated.

Warmth and cold.

I love fire and ice.  Hot wax dripped, ever so gently, only a bit, on my back.  Just a dash of fire dropped on my body.  Then a metal flogger, drenched in ice water, dragged across the cooling wax.

I prefer mental domination. I like games. Actual, fun games.  Not silly, so-called romantic games (pretending that I don’t like a guy to make him more interested in me), but a complete take over of my mind? A game that draws me into the person? Yes, please.

I do not always need an orgasm to experience warmth and tingles.  Women often don’t, and that includes those of us with a stronger feminine side.  Oh, I wouldn’t believe the woman who says she never needs an orgasm, not without gentle, er, probing.  It’s only that sometimes she sincerely means it when she says she just wants to feel good, but not necessarily pushed over the brink.

I used to feel a bit of a fraud, because of it, but I like what I like.

I am not fond of bruises, whips, floggers, and rope suspension— but I believe shooting fireballs along my inner thigh counts?

I don’t need to “prove” my kinkiness by pushing beyond what will ever be what I want. I don’t need to be swung around, beaten, and whipped with pins stuck in my nether regions 🙂

My kink is pleasure, and I shall indulge freely.

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no, i don’t need to share my Google calender, tyvm

I’m a fresh faced Kitten, with newly opened eyes, emerging into the poly community (my first alternative community). Well, these people know what they’re talking about! First time I’ve heard anyone have any common sense when it comes to romance (and, no, their common sense does not force you to have even one romantic partner, let alone multiple.)

First step (after Communication)? Get a shared calendar! A shared calendar is key to the success of any poly relationship. So, good, diligent little me, I made a “Polyship Calendar.”  I figured I didn’t need it, since all my relationships at the time were quite casual- some barely qualifying as “relationship”- but why not get off to the right start? I think I shared it with my now primary partner, because he was into that kind of organizational thing.

But then we never used it, plus I noticed a couple of things:

  1. On the (heavily newbie populated) poly groups, I see a near constant suggestion that the ONLY way to make a polyamorous life work is “Share your Google calendars!”
  2. Those people, coincidentally, I’m sure, also mention how their lives are incredibly stressful.

Google calendars ARE absurdly useful, after all.  (Does this count as product placement?  whatever, you may as well know Google owns a quarter of my soul).  I use it every day.  

I need it, too, because my calendar usually looks like this:

Because of THIS:

  • A live in, primary 24/7 M/s relationship
  • A girlfriend I see between once a week and a little more than that (sometimes it’ll be three weeks between dates, sometimes we can squeeze a few in that week)
  • A playmate/friend I see once or twice a month (more often on a good month!)
  • Local best friends
  • Long distance best friends
  • A family member with health issues (that required me to travel and spend time with them for about a week a month for a couple months)
  • Three minor semi-dependents (they aren’t technically my dependents, but tell me that when I can’t go to the bathroom for five minutes, without little hands banging down the door demanding “what I am doing in there?”)
  • Kik friends that I text with on a regular basis
  • A lost love of mine, a comet in a foreign country with whom I shared one perfect weekend that I’ve managed to keep in my life for 5+ year (she calls me “cherie,” swoons)

If I didn’t keep track with my Google calendar EVERY DAY, I would be lost.  

My chosen family say I’m always doing something. It might not work out. I may have no clue why I’m doing it. But I’m always doing SOMETHING. But you know what I’ve never done?  Shared that calendar.  Nor have my partners ever shared theirs with me.

You see, dear friend, what makes a shared calendar USEFUL is making sure it is ACCURATE.  You know what I never have time for?  UPDATING the stupid thing.  You know what my friends never have time for between making sure their boss doesn’t fire them and they take care of family obligations and they don’t kill their coworkers or roommates and also maybe having a night or two for actual playtime and date nights? UPDATING A CALENDAR.

Having a shared calendar would actually make us all MORE stressed, and that stress would inevitably trickle down to us all needing extra care and support (which doesn’t help anyone).

Plus, nobody ever looks at it.  So just about zero motivation to remember one more thing in my life.

Nobody uses a tool when they don’t have to— having a business has taught me this in spades.  And I’m never going to convert all my partners and friends to this whole Shared Google Calendar system. I don’t know who that system actually works for, although it must work for many.

So here’s my modest proposal for those it DOESN’T work for:


Yeah, that communication thing poly folk are talking about?  That’s actually useful.  

I talk with my partner and girlfriend every day (sometimes a day off here and there, especially when I’m with family or at a multi-day play party).  I talk with my play partner nearly every day (and I’m pretty sure my partner talks with her daily).  I talk to my friends regularly during the week.  Sometimes I’ve let friendships slide, but I pick it back up, with confidence, and it’s just as strong as ever.  Because those kinds of friends are okay with losing touch for a while, as long as you put in the effort when you can.  And it’s like you never lost touch at all…

Since we talk every day, I generally know what everyone is up to that week.  We exchange opportunities (“Hey, I’m thinking about going to XYZ, want to go with me?” or “So, I’m free this Monday, Tuesday, and Friday night.  Which works for you?”) I schedule based on 1) How difficult it is to find time to get together and 2) Time the person needs/wants from me.  So first I schedule with girlfriend, then playmate, than friends I haven’t seen recently (certain friends and family members I have set nights/times to hang out, my partners know about these and work around it).  If it’s been more than a couple months, I make extra effort to do something special together. 

Sometimes this might mean we can’t make it together for a few days, or even a few weeks. But I’ll understand. I don’t need to know every detail of your life; although if you move to New Zealand, I might be thrown for a minute or two.

Yes, I suppose it’s not any easier than a calendar.

But I actually enjoy talking to my partners. If I didn’t like that, why am I even with them? Conversely, updating yet another organizational app ranks fairly low (I still love you all, but yeah, in this case it’s a low bar to compare).

I balance, too, between social time, group time, and one on one time.  Usually that means alternating.  This week, I have one on one time with girlfriend.  This week, we go out out favorite munch together, and maybe she and I go off and have a random dance party on the beach together.  Yay for impromptu date “nights” together! 

I also keep semi regular schedule for my own sanity.  My friends know the two weekends each month that are usually reserved for family.  They know what munches I’ll be at— and approximately what time I’ll be there.  They know I’ll get ice cream at the one munch.  They know I’m free in the evenings, and that I’m good for a breakfast or lunch once or twice a month.  They know which days are best for me.  They know where is best to meet up.  

My live in, 24/7 relationship?  We find whatever free night we have— and we plan something, sometimes as last minute as right as we walk out the door.  We don’t care, we just want to enjoy some work free time together.  

Of course it IS a lot. And I can’t always do everything.

This DOES mean if you want my time, you need to put in quite a lot of effort.  If it’s me reaching out to you 90% of the time, I’m going to eventually let the relationship drop. Because my close relationships are willing to put in the effort and more– and I have no need to settle for less.

Oh, and it helps that I keep most of my relationships local; I explain to new friends that I really cannot have much of a relationship with them if they live further away; I even live next door to two of my best friends/gaming buddies.  Yeah, logistics isn’t sexy, but damn if it doesn’t make it easier to schedule.

It also helps that we’re all accommodating with Life Stuff.

If plans need to be altered or moved (or very rarely canceled), we’re all okay with it. Because sometimes Life Stuff is more important.

If this STILL seems selfish, rigid, or cold, mind you, it also keeps me and my partners sane. I also try to make sure I give as much as I get.  I know their “hard limits” when it comes to what time I can ask for them, usually based around their work schedules, and I do my best to not make demands on them during those times. I try to make sure I listen to their needs and treat them by the Platinum Rule.

…although texting has gotten a bit unwieldy lately. I might use a Slack channel for better communication….or should I make a new Discord server…do I still have Ventrilo….maybe I could switch switch my one friend over from our regular Gchat sessions…what does she have?

Yeah, maybe I have too many forms of communication.

…what works for you?

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the existential threat of a kinky, flirty, polyamorous mastermind unicorn

I’d been flirting, on and off, with this friend, who advertised themselves as a dominant.

Mostly off by this point in time, due to a lack of consistent communication. Supposed to hang out for drinks, but excuses kept turning up.

Until they messaged me for the final time, it turned out. The message contained quite a lengthy explanation. Long enough I had to scroll to read the entire thing. They had acquired a monogamous partner. Out of respect for their love for the person (that supposedly they had met less than a month ago), they could no longer communicate with me in any way. I felt a bit taken aback, but, I’m not great with being friends with folk in mono relationships. I started to compose a reply back—

— and blocked? Seriously?

I didn’t realize my powers had grown to the point where I could disrupt a happily monogamous relationship purely virtually.

I wanted to be indignant over it, or at the very least perturbed. Except I told my partner about the whole incident and he started laughing so hard, his eyes teared up. So I started giggling at the absurdity of the situation, too.

It isn’t like this was the first time this had happened.

I’m clearly a devastating model type with high cheekbones, shimmering hair, and legs to die for. With a wake of crushed souls trailing me. Or so you might think.

A friend’s husband messaged me on LinkedIn. He said we should connect and he wanted to steal me away to Paris. The land of love. City of love. Whatever. I had met him precisely once. I should have dropped him immediately, but I thought he was kidding. I mean, who messages junk like that and means it? I ignored it. Sent him a message later on a different subject. I never heard from him until he finally said his wife had seen the message and “forbade” him to ever speak to me. I guess that makes sense. I’m quite tempting to the unsuspecting vanilla person wandering across my path. I might have accepted his LinkedIn request.

A seemingly confident wife asked for an open marriage. I felt safe. Six months later, she promptly proceeded to accuse her hubby of starting a decade-long affair with me and conspiring to move me across the world to ruin their marriage. I did the mental math; that would have made me 14 at the start of our “affair.” Some of us killer unicorns start young.

Most of the time it was something small.

I didn’t think much of it.  Friends got married, then, like clockwork, I was cut out of their life. I can’t be sure whether these were kills or just unrelated incidents – friendships end all the time.

Still, this kept happening to me to the point where I decided to maybe not invest too much in friends I suspected might be the marrying kind. Other friends would politely maneuver their significant others away from me, avoiding a more deadly outcome.

Ah, the troubles of a unicorn in a modern world!  I haven’t yet pinpointed exactly what they think the threat is…but in the meantime, you just gotta laugh.

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how to relationship: GoT edition

Well, now that winter has come, join us for How To Relationship: GoT!

1. -Sometimes- it’s worth figuring out who your birth parents are sooner than later.

2. Blah blah blah something something BALLS.

3. Want a whore? Buy one. Want a queen? Earn her.

4. More boobs, please!

5. …three pairs of boobs is a good start.

6. Titles don’t matter as much as the person behind them.

7. If a large sword is too heavy for you, find your own fit.

8. Nobody knows how to ride a dragon until they’ve ridden it. Grab hold!

9. Don’t make out in front of your kids. It’s weird.

10. It’s never too late to say you’re sorry.

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communication is SO important

Me:  Communication is the foundation of a healthy relationship.

Also Me:  (yells across the room) I’m putting the thingy in the thingy.  Master:  Okay.

Moral of the story?  If your communication works, it works.  In other words,  no matter how silly or idiotic it feels, if you say something and the person understands what you meant, THAT is good communication.  If they don’t, then it’s not.

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“why are there foam acoustic panels on your bedroom walls?” & other solutions for kinksters who are parents

I hear about people’s escapades after they put kids to bed, but how do they do it? My friend asks.  I mean, isn’t it loud?

Good question.  For anyone curious how to make it work, for anyone who struggles with this and wonders who the ‘successful’ people do it— well, I don’t wonder anymore.  These are based on my experience and I really think most else— the, I have great sex every night and my family life is just fine!— is mostly bullshit.  Like Facebook photos of happy couples that get divorced two weeks later.  Sure.  Everything just collapsed in one day.

Here’s what I’ve found:

  1. Parents just don’t have a sex life.  They give it up for the twenty years until the kid leaves the house at 18 (Assuming your kid DOES move out at 18.  I dunno, I guess after that, it’s on them if they hear your sex noises.)

Or maybe they do.  Sometimes it works.  Sort of.

  1. Taking off your pants— when the INTENT is to do something about it once said pants are removed— and putting them back on counts. You gotta take the wins when you get them.
  2. A boob squeeze when nobody is looking counts.
  3. Hotel bathrooms are probably sound proof.  Just try not to smack your face on the sink and cry out in pain (no, never done it, but still one should probably be careful).  Yelling out in pain is likely to wake someone up.
  4. I’m honestly not a big fan of car sex, but it works.
  5. Nobody knows you’re on FetLife if the screen is turned away.  Say that you’re working and can’t be disturbed.  Maintain a composed, serious, “I’m definitely analyzing this spreadsheet” look.
  6. Sound proof your bedroom with these.  And while you’re at it, you might as well set up the St Andrew’s Cross in the corner and call it “art.”  Paint it some nice, earthy color to be subtle.  Or bright pink.
  7. Great parents make sure that kids have sleepovers at their grandparents’ home.  I mean, you gotta make sure they see the grandkids they begged for, yes?  Like, one night a week?  Or two?
  8. Or sleepovers at friends’ homes.  Yes, that means that you have to take their kids, too, in exchange.  But as long as you have three kids in the house, what’s four or five?  Compartamentalize your life and give yourself a few kid free hours.
  9. You know, some people say having a pet is just like having a kid.  And you can put them in the laundry room. (I’m being legitimately serious here.)

Have fun!