More mash. Or maybe it’s mish…

At times I find (most times, lately) that I have to make myself sit down here and write. I feel vaguely ashamed of this admission. Writing – this blog and the many short stories I wrote – used to be my life. Truly. Though I got burned out at times, even then, I was so incredibly proud of what I had built at K&P. It was more than just the followers I had. Though “You like me! You really like me!” certainly described how I felt about it. It was even more than the salacious pleasure I got from knowing I could share these bawdy adventures, this crazy life, and people would read it. People would fantasize about it! It was even more than knowing it made W feel to read my accounts of what we’d done, knowing others were reading about it. (Yeah ok, maybe we were shallow that way.) But more than that, it was knowing – reading, over and over – that I had said something that helped someone understand themselves, or their relationship, or their relationship with the world, better. Or accept their own needs and desires better. Or understand their partner(s) desires better. Or that they just appreciated my openness and honesty.

That I had made a difference.

I hear that now sometimes, even in this diminished version of myself that I share, and it means the world to me. But also…feeling so stifled…so unable to fully share all the ins-and-outs, the nitty-gritty, the fears and trials and triumphs, the tears and hopes and missteps…being forbidden (for lack of a better word) to share those things openly, because everybody knows everybody knows everybody, and some of them read here…it’s hard. I’ve dreamed of striking out anew, anonymously, and writing everything I’ve withheld, holding nothing back, just like I did at K&P – but I also value this amazing community of blogging friends that I’ve come to know in my almost ten years of sex blogging, and I don’t want to leave you all behind. It’s a catch-22.

I’m not sure where I was going with this.

I’m traveling again. This time by car, four hours from home, which is a long drive on my own, though it gives me a lot of time to listen to audiobooks. And to think about the future of this space. I just don’t think I am capable of walking away. I love it here, even when I am not writing. I feel guilt at not writing, especially when sexy things do happen.

But apparently not guilty enough to actually do anything about it.

Here, some notes from my drive, and maybe even some sexy stuff thrown in, just because.

Because that’s the kind of grandma I am

I drove up here to visit my eldest son and my granddaughter. But on the way, I couldn’t resist stopping at one of those roadside “Adult Boutiques.” Okay, it didn’t turn out to be a true roadside one. One that’s advertised on billboards for miles (right before or after the “JESUS SAVES” billboards) and ends up being in a big tin shed of a building right off the highway across from the truck stop, in the middle of a corn field. (If you live in the Midwest you know what I’m talking about.)

This one was pretty much the supermarket of sex shops. An amazing assortment of sex toys and paraphernalia, that I could have spent a couple hundred dollars in, easy. Before I decided to go in, on the road there, I tried to play coy with V and see if I could get him to order me to go in and buy something naughty (it’s so much more fun that way.) He didn’t catch the hint, so I stopped being coy and said, “You should tell me to go in and buy something.” So then of course he did, but having to tell someone to order you to do something naughty doesn’t have quite the zing that actually being ordered to do so does. Still, in I went, and what he told me to buy was embarrassing enough that I felt suitably nervous about being in there. But OMG WOW was I wowed when I got in there. It was like sex toy heaven! V had told me what to buy: a larger glass buttplug than the ones I have. As with most thing I buy for him/me, I will probably regret/not regret this one.

No wait, I’m SURE I’ll be sorry about this one. It REALLY looks huge in that image. I don’t think it’s that big…

Speaking of things I don’t regret at all…

…is the sweet whip I got him at KK, that my lovely, sexy, too-far-away friend Anda used on me first, and that I fell in love with. (The whip, not Anda. But, you know, there might have been a whole lot of event-crushing going on.) ;-) He used it on me last night, and I swear to god it’s the Best. Thing. Ever. He needs to build up some stamina so he can turn me into a quivering puddle of goo with it (wielding a whip can tire a poor Dom out!), but even in a short scene it’s incredible.

And speaking of last night

Sexy things did happen, before the whipping. I’ve been on orgasm-denial until I performed a penance, which penance he’s been allowing me to “punt down the field” (a football reference?) because of holidays and etc., but when I was over last night it was time to pay the piper. (So here’s where I’d like to mention some of that interpersonal stuff having to do with the poly dynamic, and getting into the right headspace to be there, as a bottom, as a submissive, but I can’t. Because of the above. Anyway.) The evening soon found me face down on the mat with a giant buttplug in my ass (HE says it’s only medium size, my ass says otherwise), Baldy on my clit and porn that I did NOT want to watch in front of me. In spite of the topic (or okay, maybe, in part, because of it) and with him saying dirty things to me, I finally came, clenching so hard around the plug that my ass STILL hurts. (And I bought that monster above. What can I say, I have an Owner that likes to have me shove large things up my ass.)

But wait! There’s more!

Damn how could I almost forget this. Before that he made me spread my legs – both front ways and back – so he could “inspect” things down there.

Okay, that’s fucking hot. But also embarrassing!!

But also fucking hot.

Then there was lots of choking on his cock, and him coming a bucketload of semen down my throat, and my own orgasm aftershocks while he did, and then the whipping. And after THAT there was me asking – asking! – him to use the V on me, to round out our session. OUCH. I hate it! But I love it!

Rituals & Protocols

I realized last night that, if his expectation is that I will be in the right headspace to play after being in a totally different one (and if my expectation is to want to play, which I do) then we will need to find some kind of ritual to put me there after…being in a less sexy space with him. He’d asked about my necklace after play, but I had not brought it. He hadn’t asked me to bring or wear it before I’d come over, or before play…so…


“We’ll need to figure out some sort of protocol [for the necklace],” he said. I agree. I’ve always agreed. But like with W, these are things that are not as important to him as they are to me. Still, I swear as I kneeled in front of him after he’d used the V on me, and kissed his thigh, thanking him for hurting me, for making me feel that, that he could feel the…power of ritual, of closing the circle, of acknowledging who and what we were and where we’d been together. Maybe he’ll find his way to wanting and needing that feeling, too.


This all started because I have wanted to write a post about being poly at the holidays. A friend posted in a group I belong to: “So, polys… how do you handle the holidays? Travel, time with families, gifts, etc.” And I wanted so much to respond in the group. To talk about the struggles and challenges that the holidays bring to many of us, to me in particular. But, because of the things I mentioned at the start of this post, I couldn’t discuss it. Not there, not here.

I loved seeing the images of happy poly groups celebrating together. I am so, so glad that there are people out there that have that, that can be examples of that joy, as W and Ad and I used to be. But we’re not, and mostly what I experience is stress and anxiety and disappointment and, a whole lot of the time, resentment. At least inasmuch as it relates to being “poly” during this time.

But being poly isn’t all there is. There is my wonderful, funny, goofy, sometimes maddening family. There is finding ways to spend time with everyone that doesn’t wear all of us out, and allows us to enjoy the time we share, instead of feeling exhausted and obligated. That happened this year, and I was pretty damn proud of myself for a) orchestrating it, and b) following thru on making it happen. I am so very very fortunate to have the family I do, and that includes Ad and his family, who continue to be warm and loving, in spite of not understanding how our lives work. Do I wish sharing that with the other side of my (poly) family could happen? Yes, I do. But there are so many reasons that it doesn’t – and won’t – happen. And, unfortunately, I have no control over it. So I do what I can and try to be grateful for the bits that I get.

I do hope that the holidays have been a joyous time for you, or that they have, at least, been gentle with you. I understand the tumult that they can bring.

Do I look sufficiently “grandma-ish”?

With love and dreams of happy tomorrows,



  1. John

    As always, I love your column. It gets right into my head and reaches parts that are rarely used.

    Thank you so very much.


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