Lunch at my desk today. (Always a bad idea.)
I’m wearing a new dress. It’s cute, it’s summery, it’s blue. It now has spaghetti sauce on it.
SexFairy: Just splashed red sauce on my blue dress. :( and grrr at myself.
Whitman: that dress is begging to be stained, isn’t it, Miss Lewinsky?
SexFairy: I can think of better ways than pasta to stain this dress, Mr. President!
I have Daddy issues. All of a sudden. And I like them.
I always thought I wouldn’t be into anything sexual that involved a “Daddy” because, well…I still call(ed) my real-life father “Daddy.” I don’t anymore. I can’t.
I have a new Daddy. Whitman.
After our brief encounter with a young lady looking for a Daddy Dom, Whitman and I gradually came to realize that we found the idea very appealing. We also realized we didn’t need another girl to play that part. This idea has been on the back burner for a couple of 
months, but it’s been bubbling up and boiling over again suddenly. We’ve had an epiphany of sorts:
Whitman IS my Daddy. This is a totally new dynamic and it’s amazing. It’s sexy, it’s hot, it’s wonderfully fun, and a real turn-on; I’m wet and horny just writing about it. And get this…even though I normally can’t talk during sex, suddenly, if I’m talking to Daddy I can. I can answer any question, respond to any command, promise him anything.
Even if we’re not really engaging in sexy age-play, I love the feeling I get when Daddy calls me little girl, or babygirl, or of course, princess, in the bedroom or out. When I see Whitman after work, I want to hug him and kiss him and whisper in his ear, “Hi Daddy.” I want to call him Daddy all the time. Names like Sir or Master have always felt contrived and a little cheesy to me.
Calling Whitman Daddy seems like the most natural thing in the world. It’s perfect submission.
There have always been some child-like aspects to my personality anyway. For example, even though I’m smart and totally mature, I can be a little naïve, and I take great pleasure in happy things (flowers, kittens, sparkles, shiny iridescent sex toys). Suddenly, though, parts of me are becoming a little more child-like. I really want to wear not just pretty lingerie, but GIRLIE lingerie. Ruffly panties and sparkly costumes, even. I’ve ordered panties, petticoats, and ruffled socks.
I’m dying for this red riding hood dress to come back in stock.
I know this could be a sexual phase, and it may be something that comes in and out of play for us, but if nothing else, I think the names are here to stay.
It always starts so innocently. This time it’s just a little question from Whitman.
“Aren’t you going to change?”
The next thing I know it’s two hours later.
I’ve danced like a stripper in my short short skirt, knee-high socks, and six-inch heels, boobs and ass hanging out everywhere. I feel like it’s the first time he’s seen me naked, although it’s the zillionth. Whitman has watched from the couch, slack-jawed like a horny guy at a strip club waiting for a 20-year-old dancer to show him a whole new world. There are twenty dollar bills everywhere. I grind on his lap: clothed, half-clothed, then naked. We fuck. On the sofa and then the bed.
Whitman’s nearly knocked the mattress off of the bed with his power thrusts. Everything is knocked off of the night stand, there’s a glass plug in my ass, and his thick cock in my pussy. We’re both slick with lube because in our hurried desire for more more more (more sex, more lube, more of everything) we had some silicone over-spill. It doesn’t matter;
it feels so. damn. good.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he growls. My head is hanging back off the side of the bed, and his cock is in my throat. He pulls it out and begins stroking over my face and breasts, while my tongue bathes his balls from below. I reach my mouth up to lick and suck – balls, taint, asshole. I rub my clit until I’m moaning into his ass; moaning and whining for more as he steps back a little to ejaculate on me. There is cum everywhere – my mouth, my tits, my face. I’ve never been covered in this much cum, I swear.
I love this man so much it brings tears to my eyes. The passion is overwhelming, the lust, the afterglow, the love, the contentment. The pride. “You make me feel like a porn star fucking a porn star.” His declaration makes me smile. I love nothing more than when Whitman feels like a God – a powerful fucking sex God. Because he is.
I mentioned last week that we finally had sex again! I’d like to elaborate on that a little bit.
I had been really wanting sex for at least two weeks. About a week after my labia reduction, even though I was still tender and swollen, I was really horny! I was also really, really nervous about fucking. I was afraid it would hurt, I was afraid Whitman would get grossed out by some post-op weirdness, I was afraid it wouldn’t be the same. Of course it wouldn’t be the same. My vagina is the same inside, but obviously my vulva is totally different now. I wondered how much those dangly lips had been in the way (or in the mix) for better or worse. In any case, we ended up waiting about three weeks.
Whitman and I were up to the usual, sipping cocktails, lounging in the bedroom, just chatting about nothing and everything. Of course the subject of sex and the stitches came up. “Let me see your stitches, baby,” Whitman said. I slid my panties off, spread my legs slightly and let him take a look, and of course, there were two or three (or five) lingering stitches. Two or three (or five) lingering, annoying, hateful stitches in between me and my man. As you may recall, I was trying to hold out until they were completely gone.
I told Whitman that I’d just read that it could be months, not weeks, for the last few to dissolve. At that point, Whitman said, ‘Do you want me to just fuck you anyway?’ Smiling, I said “yes,” rather shyly. “Okay then.” He put down his drink, grabbed the massage oil, and told me to lie back.
He removed my shirt (I was wearing his shirt, actually), and started sucking my nipples. It was electrifying. Truly. I felt like I was humming with electricity. He poured a little oil on his free hand while still massaging and nibbling at my breasts. As he rubbed the oil over my breasts, down my belly and all over my pussy, I thought I would have an orgasm right then. Whitman was gentle and very careful as he rose up, climbed between my legs and slowly slid his cock into me.
I gasped, not from pain, but from the shock of being entered again after so many weeks. As Whitman slid the rest of the way in, I was amazed by the feeling of being so full, and overwhelmed by emotion. I whimpered. I wanted to cry. I didn’t cry. I DID cum. Almost instantly.
I rarely orgasm from intercourse, so it was even more overwhelming when I did this time. I ended up having two more orgasms in rapid succession. No pain, just an extraordinary feeling of being full and close to Whitman and wonderfully, orgasmically in love. Again, the urge to cry joyful tears nearly took over, but I held back…mostly because I didn’t want to scare Whitman or freak him out.
It actually did hurt when Whitman lifted my legs to his shoulders – my tender new skin was SO not ready to be stretched that way yet. He turned me around and fucked me from behind, doggy style. There was no pain at all, and he was able to fuck me very hard. I felt like he was extra-deep inside of me. It may just have been in my mind, but I felt like the barrier of my lips was gone, and we were physically closer, even if just by millimeters. There was no pushing and pulling of my pussy with each stroke. We were fucking and it was just me, open for Whitman…and Whitman balls-deep inside of me.
Bonus: post sex – there were no stitches left!
The California Exotics Collar and Cuffs from the Tantric Binding Love collection is an adorable three piece bondage set. I know “bondage set” and “adorable” don’t exactly sound like a match made in a sex toy store, but trust me, I know cute when I see it!
The set consists of two elastic cuffs with sewn on D-rings and clips, and an elastic collar with a vertical extension designed to be worn in the back of the collar from neck to waist. The collar is 1.5” wide and 17” in length, but using the Velcro, this could extend to fit a much larger neck.
The 21” long extension is 2” wide and conveniently provides two D-rings for attaching the wrist cuff clips. A loop sewn in to the top end of this strap allows for sliding it on and off of the collar. That flexibility means that all of these pieces can be used with other bondage pieces, together or separately. This where the CUTE comes in: Both cuffs and the back strap are adorned with red satin bows, and the D-rings are shaped like hearts!
The heavy elastic wrist cuffs are 61/2” in circumference, and this could definitely be a tight fit for some. They easily slip on my wrists, which are rather small, but they are definitely snug. These are stretch-to-fit and there is no way to adjust the size, as they are stitched together. The inside seam can be a little rough, but is easily remedied with an emery board. Just file off any rough edges.
The back strap can be worn in the front, but this allows for a wide range of movement, unlike when hands are clipped to the strap in the back. This is best used for light bondage, because any way you wear it, it’s easily escapable. Even with my hands clipped behind me to the long strap at my waist, I was able to reach up and unhook the collar.
This is a darling ‘beginner bondage’ set with tight cuffs, and an adjustable collar. The bows and 
backstrap add to the visual allure of seeing your lover tied up. Even though the bows are very feminine, don’t think of this as just for girls only. I can imagine that there are plenty of dommes who would love to see their boys in this, too!
Thanks to California Exotics, who provided us this toy at no cost in exchange for an honest review.
Well, Whitman and I had sex, and yes, it DID feel soooo goooood.
(In theory, I guess I could post “Sexual Healing” because my sex is all healed(-ish), but this one is on repeat in my head.)
My old labia had a fan, and I didn’t even know it! Certainly Whitman’s always been a fan, and I’ve never been worried about that. However, it’s always nice to hear from a random stranger now and then about how awesome my pussy is and/or was.
I had a really nice comment on Reddit over the weekend. It made me smile:
| “Plus one for a sex blog, but jeeesus christ you had a labiaplasty!? Your labia was beautiful before, the suckable kind of lips you can make out with for hours. It’s like cock, more is better…” |
Classyguy1978 elaborates further here on his love of all things labia. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t really my fan, he’s just a fan in general. You’ve just got to appreciate a man who loves pussy like that!
Here she is at 3 weeks. Still looking a little rough. I’ll be happy to lose the last few stitches and see how I’m REALLY going to look. [I’m rather intrigued by what I think of as “the pussy nugget” – the upside down heart formed by my clit hood.]
The erotic story “Fifty Shades of Grey” is all over the news suddenly. It’s being labeled as ‘mommy porn’ and something like mainstream BDSM. Somehow ‘mainstream BDSM’ sounds like an oxymoron, BUT there is the promise of bondage and spanking. I must admit I also can’t stand to be ‘out of the loop’ culturally, so of course I’ve downloaded the book. I’m now in the loop for better or worse. (Mostly worse, but I can’t put the damn thing down.) Consider this a Public Service Announcement:
I’ve quickly made it to page 50 out of over 300, and STILL. NO. SEX. No spanking, no kneeling, no service.
What I’ve read so far is like a cross between the wretched reading that is Twilight (considering that this story started out as Twilight “fan fiction” that makes sense) and a Harlequin Romance. Here is one of my favorite least-favorite lines:“Ana, there’s something about him.” Her tone is full of warning. “He’s gorgeous, I agree, but I think he’s dangerous. Especially to someone like you.”
Blahblahblahblah! Get to the SPANKING ALREADYYYYYYYYYYY!!
Gak. It’s sappy, and it’s not well written. I’m just here for the smut, OBVIOUSLY.
Update: I have finally arrived at the spanking and sex scenes. I’m unimpressed, although I can see how this has sparked the imagination of women everywhere. The reality is that it’s sort of “BDSM lite” but it does remind me that I’m really ready to get back to some raunchy sex with Whitman.
For what it’s worth, there is a MUCH better book called Carrie’s Story with essentially the same concept – college student owned by handsome zillionaire, but it’s well-written and extremely sexy. Spend your money there.
I haven’t had sex (with another person) in almost three weeks now. I’ve gone for way longer periods of time without sex (weeks, months, a year). Who hasn’t, right?
This time is different, though. I’ve had surgery on my labia, which left a few stitches in and around my vagina. There are also a couple of stitches in and around my clitoral hood. I told Whitman that when we do finally have sex, it will be like I’ve been REVIRGINIZED!!
The title says it all. There are lots of ways to explain it, but basically today is “Guys’ Valentines Day” – all they need is a steak and a blowjob. Let’s do our part, ladies and give them what they want!
Happy Steak and BJ Day!