Continually forgetting to type stuff up here. Sorry.

27 March -- Tell me what you want to do to me. I have on this thin white gown with the spaghetti straps and a tiny white g-string. And the purple collar -- I can't forget I have it on; it makes me hold my head up. The cool air on my bare skin reminds me of standing under your gaze, wondering what you'll bring out. I want your mouth on my neck, my shoulders, my nipples. Your hand stroking my clit through the thin layers of fabric. How do you want me open to you? On my back with legs spread open, or facing down with my butt in the air for you to slap?

8 Jun -- Ed and I went by Todd Adult Video for the first time in quite a while this evening. They have a lot more lingerie/dancewear/shoes than they used to, but I quite like that. If I had any money I would definitely want to buy some nice glittery stretchy stripper lingerie; more heels too. The clothes are more expensive than other lingerie, which is already overpriced, but I guess that makes sense since stripper costumes have to hold up a lot more than bedroom lingerie. Anyway, I spent more time looking at shoes than the movies on the shelves underneath -- and I am the least shoe-interested woman in the Western world. But the heels and the spandex, just the idea of wearing them made me feel sexy.

9 Jun -- Buffy before bedtime leads to some really hot dreams. I was in a band with Oz and Devon, and Willow was in the band also, and we were playing parties and all screwing each other between sets, some as a result of party dare games and some just because of attraction.

22 July -- God damn it, it's like a disconnection in libido -- brain and cunt aren't connected. Even when I'm fucking wet, my brain thinks it's too much trouble. Haven't even finished the Best American Erotica 2006 anthology acquired at least 3 months ago. Can't be bothered to keep up with the smut groups on LiveJournal. Can't remember how long it's been since sex with Ed. I don't know if it's the antidepressants or my feeling so goddamned fat and flabby, which really came to my notice last week when trying on bras to replace my ratty, stretched out ones. I wear a 38C now. The B to C cup itself is weird, but when the rib cage right below the tits is the issue, the last place on the body to store fat, you really start noticing. Ed doesn't seem to care and Simon certainly keeps calling me, but I know. It keeps me from being able to turn myself on by dressing up in lingerie and stuff.

The libido is still buried in there. It comes out in dreams. This one a couple of weeks ago where it was Leah who was tying Russ to the chair and letting me have my way with him. The one last night where I was in the X-Files universe but aware I was from this one, and kidnapped by someone (probably they wanted to get into my home universe) and Fox Mulder was kidnapped too and put into the cell with me, and I was telling him about the difference in worlds, and trying to seduce him by telling him that if the captors saw me having sex with such a relative stranger as him, they wouldn't think of rape as a useful technique to get information out of me. (Clearly, my brain has read the rape scene in Heinlein's Friday too often.)

But why won't my waking brain think about sex?

17 August -- Hot sex with Simon, in normal artificial light, for the first time in I-don't-know-how-long. (I think his skin condition has cleared up a lot -- just comparing by touch with the past few times.) I hope we didn't keep Ed awake. It was kinda weird that I hadn't been thinking about sex or anything (though it was approaching the horny part of my cycle) but when Simon first had sent a little e-mail stating that he was at work even though they were closed to customers, but was bored and imagining what one could do in an empty building with a digital camera. Then he phoned when he was about to leave work, and I just said that sure, I was up for seeing him (and unstated, what that generally leads to). I'm surprised I wasn't tired after a day of work and all (actually, he said he was surprised as well). But hey, when libidos are actually in sync, might as well take advantage. And, if the last time Simon came over while Ed was here is any indication, Ed will probably realize it's a good time to make a move tomorrow or this weekend. Which is nice -- I'm just so bad at making moves myself.

20 August -- And Simon got up while he was undressing from where he had been sitting on the end of my bed to close the mirrored closet door. He said the view was a turn-on -- he'd been able to see my mostly-bare rear, and then while I was kneeling going down on him, my panties were pulled down to thigh-level, just rolled up low enough to expose me, so I expect that view was just as good. But I think pretty soon he was leaning back and closing his eyes. (grin) I did rather like the view of myself, back and butt, that I got when I glanced around after he closed the closet. It's my thighs and stomach I'm paranoid about, mostly.

Gus remarked when he was over today that he was almost disappointed if he used our bathroom and didn't see sex toys next to the sink (they were certainly there today). I thought I might get around to fulfilling his request to have candlewax dripped on him today, but we got too caught up in watching Angel. (Wesley looks pretty hot in leather, but I've still gotta prefer Spike.)

15 Sep -- Discovered Rockfic.com and now thinking about all kinds of sex stories starring rock musicians -- the one I wrote about Guns 'n Roses where Axl was wearing those black leather gloves -- I still visualize the picture that inspired that -- and the Beatles slash I've already collected off LiveJournal. In retrospect, it kinda surprises me that slash fantasies never occurred to me in my most dedicated music fan days when there were so many, many musicians I was drooling over. But hey, now I have stuff I'm not jaded about to ponder. Annoying for a scenario to lose its power after too much use.

16 Sep -- This morning's waking-up fantasy was about Slash (the man, not the genre). I was fucking him in the ass with a strap-on - it was something he'd never done (moderately hard to find with someone who's had 20 years of available groupies). It was really hot to press my tits against his back, reaching around first to put a finger in his mouth and then down to circle a nipple with that slick finger, grinding my own hips into the base of the dildo.

27 Feb 2006 -- I had this dream that was like Sixteen Candles gone pornographic (though oddly enough, during the dream I kept thinking of Fast Times at Ridgemont High) -- after the Anthony Michael Hall nerd tried to get his date with the sweet Molly Ringwald character (who then receded into the background) the male population of the school, including the previous nerd, gathered under a pier or something to see the hot blonde chick take off her top (as promised in advance) and then rub herself through her panties and then pull them aside and get some help from the hands of one of the popular guys (but no other parts of him). Then my brain went off into her being a sort of instructor for this school for inexperienced guys that was really all about getting them to know what to do with a woman.

2 Feb 2006 -- I never snuck out of the house as a teenager, but I'm making up for lost time now. (Well, that's what it feels like, even though Ed doesn't have a problem with it -- he's asleep and I'm trying not to wake him up and all.) Simon asked if I had anything interesting to wear and even offered his trenchcoat when I said my interesting clothes weren't fit to wear outside the house. So I put on that red satin gown with the transparent cups and the lace panels up to the crotch, and a thong and stockings and high heels, and covered it up with the purple and red floral satin bathrobe. Simon got a brief look in my apartment before I belted the robe tightly for the walk to the car, and on the way there he certainly seemed to enjoy sliding his hand over the lace panels and then pulling that up with the hand that wasn't on the wheel. Indeed, the outfit seemed even more of a success when we got to his place, because usually he's pretty quick to try and get me completely uncovered. This time we just stood in the middle of the floor and kissed and caressed and rubbed up against each other for the longest time. Then he said he had something to suggest, if I was up for it, and got out his handcuffs. I was a bit nervous but had spent enough time thinking about since the last time he asked, so I agreed.

He handcuffed me and raised my hands above my head in the archway between the two rooms, using a cord which he wrapped around the nails that were holding up stuff hanging on the wall. Then he kissed and rubbed and squeezed me all over, and went to get some ice and ran that over me. He had to uncuff me briefly to get the gown off, and then re-raised my arms and went on doing the same teasing -- it was so fucking hot. And he adjusted the cord and put a pillow down on the floor and said "On your knees." Ohh...I lasted longer at sucking him off than I usually do, too, before my jaw and all (well, actually, more my legs, the kneeling) started to pain me.

Back on my feet, then we took the panties off and tried to fuck standing up, me pushed up against the side wall of the archway, but we couldn't get lined up at an angle that would let his cock get to me. (Actually, I've never had a lover with whom standing sex seemed to work.) So we went to the bed, and ended up uncuffing me there because I needed to separate my arms to stay balanced on top of him. Sex -- rest -- sex -- rest -- sex. But as good as that part was, I think it's the earlier part that's going to stick in my brain. I loved being the one not in control and I wanna do it again, but I also want to do the same things to Amelie, which would be just as hot.
There are still slight red marks on one side of each wrist, more than two hours and a shower later. Just looking at them is exciting.

So weird how the brain and body can react so differently. I was reading this book Gus lent me, Saints and Sinners: An Erotic Anthology, and my brain was thinking that most of the stories didn't do much for me. Too much religion, guilt, angels and demons, priests, death -- not things that turn me on. But it had a few good places and I just skimmed over the rest. After that, it was about bedtime, and I did take the time to masturbate, and the body seemed far more worked up than I would have expected from my lackluster conscious response. I guess nothing in the book was actively gross or otherwise a complete turn-off, and it not being incredible kept me reading for a longer time. If it have been really good, I probably would have put it down to use my hands on myself earlier. At it was, I had put on my stiletto heels (me and costumes!) and the backs of my legs are reminding me today that they were tensed in an unusual position for a while last night.