| Stinky Pinky: Or how to become a lesbian in 34 years | |||
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Wednesday, July 30, 2003 ( 9:38 AM ) Fat Bitch I wrote this for her as entertainment...but am now realizing the truth between the lines. I'm spoiled. I'm so used to being in control of every aspect of myself...my thoughts my emotions. And now I am not. In ways...it is frightening...knowing that this is new. This release..this allowance of a desire I am not in charge of. I still want to believe that I'm holding the rudder here. But see...that's just it. What I want doesn't matter. Letter to Carol: "Make you want me?" I cross my legs so that my skirt rides a bit higher on my thigh. Again I ask, incredulously..."Make you want me?, How am I to do that?" The only thoughts in my head are of you towering above me, moving inside of me, holding me down...and you want me to find a way to seduce you? I raise my glass of wine for a sip...mostly to waste a few precious seconds... While I try to figure out a way to change my one track mind. I look back at you...searching your eyes for some clue...some spark...some way to do as you bid. I feel like a bug, trapped under a magnifying glass. I think to myself..."All I have is this....this burn..this ache...this need". I lower my head in confusion....my hair falls over my eyes. Pleading will do no good. You will do as you please. And begging you for your affections, I know will have the opposite effect desired. My mewling will push you away. Seduction? Exactly what is it? I've never had to seduce anyone in my life... they come to me...wanting me....pleading with me. And now the tables are turned. Worst of all...I know you know it. I am uncomfortable under such close scrutiny. Your eyes watching me. It's as though you are counting my every breath...recording my every move. And then it comes to me. Seduction... You admire my candor. My fearlessness. My insouciance. My impertinence arouses you. You want to "teach me a lesson". I raise my eyes again to meet yours. And taking a breath that catches with nervousness... I simply state... "Fuck me" # Tuesday, July 29, 2003 ( 1:26 AM ) Fat Bitch She's got me. Oh, man has she got me...so here I go again. Into the flame...because I love the burn. I love to listen to her talk. That Yankee twang just washes over these Southern Belle ears of mine and I get all fucking gooey. She's smart, she's funny, and she's taken. Perfect. Oh, and now that she has read "the all inclusive quick study of Kim", she actually said that she is concerned for me. That somehow she will be doing me damage by becoming involved with me. She has no idea...that whatever damage inflicted (over and beyond slight bruises and welts)...is what i need to survive. This is it. This chase. This teasing. This overwhelming desire for what I should not want. And of course...the capture. It is my air. My breath. My rain, My sun, My wind and sea. It is the truth of me. Without it...that wherein lies the true damage. The quashing of my real self. Erasure, suffocation, oblivion. # Friday, July 25, 2003 ( 6:53 AM ) Fat Bitch I love it when I shock Vivian. Well, not shock. She's a trained therapist. Nothing shocks her...I would think. but every once in a while I say something that makes her eyes do this weird crinkly thing...like she's trying to process new information. She did the weird crinkly eye thing last time I visited. I told her that I hate being bisexual. Her response (after the crinkly eye thing), was to say how major a statement that was, given that our sexual identities are such a big part of our personalities. I failed to mention that in reading up on the Borderline Personality Disorder...one of the main things it states about people like me is that we have no real sexual identity/orientation. That we just sorta try everything that comes across us...because we have no boundaries. So basically what that says to me is... I have no idea how to label myself. I call myself lesbian. I live in a lesbian relationship. When I act out sexually, it is with men...because I know that the men I tend to choose for affairs are weak and easily manipulated. When I am with a man sexually...he has no clue that he is being played for a fool. I get what I want and I'm gone. So actually...definition-wise I have to call myself bisexual because that is what my actions require it to be labelled. I call myself lesbian because it's less of a hassle explaining my relationship. But in truth...there are no actual labels for what I am. I know that on a personal level I get along better with men than women...because men are easy to figure out. Their dicks think for them...and dicks are no threat to me. Attraction wise...men and women are equally attractive in a sexual sense. But I tend to fall for harder-edged women. Women that can control me...the harder the better. But according to my resources on BPD...I'm really not feeling what I am feeling, or thinking what I am thinking or being what I am. The constant emotional chameleon. So where does that leave me? Technically and essentially bisexual. And like I said...I hate being bisexual. # ( 6:13 AM ) Fat Bitch Carol was inside me last night. Well...inside my head. My heart....what's left of my soul. I got GOOGLED for Christ's sake. Who knew? Or maybe I should ask who knows? I have yet to figure out how her being able to read this blog affects me. Yes, yes, Darren can read it. But hell...who is Darren to me really? A man I knew as as child? A man who cannot even begin to fathom what he brushed up against in the darkness, not realizing that he actually got away safely. And Kelly. He can read it. But I trust him more than anyone, probably. He's known me too long. We know each other inside and out. And I know he is safe. He's too far outside my reach to be in/be of any danger. But now she is watching me. Reading me. Soaking me in. Feeling around my open heart...searching for signs of life. I have myself almost convinced that that this is the right way. That maybe this once, that the sexual connection, albeit deliciously deviant, and devoid of emotion, will somehow make me real? I feel alive when I talk to her. I feel my breath change...the rhythm alter. She is under my skin. Why is it that this is the only way I can feel? # Thursday, July 03, 2003 ( 5:29 PM ) Fat Bitch I found those BDSM poems I have been meaning to publish. Here they are. Yes, I wrote them. And yes....I feel them. What I want i want to be owned, i want to be obsessed i want to be provoked, i want to be possessed i want to be placed upon a pedestal while being held down against my will i want to be the prized possession of the one who feels the thrill of pushing me beyond breaking of tearing down the inner wall One who will master, mate and mirror my eyes as i fall. i wish to wear the crimson marks of Her love on my skin i wish to fulfill Her need, Her lust i wish to be Her sin i live to kneel before Her i bend to the slightest whim. i am pet, prisoner, prostitute as i both give, and give in. Surrender my feet are carved from ivory deep arches and fine lines drawn upward to the ankle cuffed and tied supine my dancer's legs are strong as if etched in stone but cannot break the rope as i strain against them. prone full hips strain toward your touch as if begging all the more grinding upwards as you enter me deep into my core my breasts are flushed, my nipples hard as you graze them with your teeth i trembled from the onslaught you above and i beneath my mouth is wet and welcoming lips full and soft and red from them come screams, then whimpers as you burrow and inbed and though i am tied and bound by you when you look into grey eys you find you are the captured one surrender to my sighs Veneer within her there is sinner, beneath the veneer of saint beneath the mask of innocence, she wears her harlot's paint and in her eyes, there are no lies just the truth that she must tell she burns with fire, this mad desire there lies heaven inside her hell # ( 5:28 PM ) Fat Bitch Carol is my new flavor of the day. She resides in RI. A big stone butch woman, and practicing Domme. Oh god, she makes me drool. If I can talk myself into it, I'm going to meet her in FL at the AAL chat room party. I have between now and October to psych myself up for it. Or out of it. # |
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