The Bite and Scratch Club.
2006-12-10 4:20 p.m.

Again, if you're related to me, you probably shouldn't read this. Instead you should go here. I spent the day laying in bed with a bunch of books, licking the wounds to my self-esteem, cursing myself a thousand times over for being such a moron and so needy. Why do I end up wearing my heart on my sleeve when it fits so nicely in my chest? I was also trying to figure out how to end sex week on the blog with a bang. Pun totally intended.

It's not entirely a secret that I've been virtually sneaking around in the BDSM community lately. You've probably even seen a few people online here, they probably came here looking for a kinkster and instead found a very weird girl who writes funny stuff and despite being slightly disappointed, decided to stay. Welcome!

I was doing research for my book. No really, I was. *wink wink nudge nudge* In my vampire world when new vampires are made they are hard-wired to be subservient to the vampire who made them. I also decided that my main character was going to be crossed over by two vampires and thus, be in a polyamorous relationship of sorts. So I had to figure out how one sucessfully works. Ontop of all of this, Dave the Assassin is very particular about having her call him Master as he teaches her how to kill in every way known possible.

During my research the question was inevitably raised: would I be dominant or subservient? Or maybe a switch? I think my personality is way too strong and I'm too Type A to be subsurvient to just anyone. I'd be fighting them, kicking and screaming the whole way, which is kind of how my main character Helena reacts. She hates the idea of having to answer to not only one man but two! Being dominant sounds quite interesting, but also exhausting. I already feel like I'm dominant in every other facet of my life. Sometimes it's nice to let someone else make the decisions, but I would want the opportunity to veto any decision made and a "safe word" woudn't cut it, again I'd be fighting for power. I doubt I'm made out for a switch either, as I'm uncertain I could fully conform to one role or another. These are just musings about myself and does not reflect judgement on anyone who choses to call themselves any of these. I can see the allure of all these roles, I simply don't think it's a fit for me. Although, maybe it has something to do with meeting the right person.

I think I'm just a fan of the bite and scratch club. I like pushing the limits until the boy eventually gets fed up with me and finds a nice simple way of restraining me so no further damage is done on his poor skin. Heh heh.

I guess that just leaves me as a kinkilla.

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The Game.
2006-12-09 7:06 p.m.

The creation of The Game started out innocently enough. One of my girlfriends who had an open-minded overly horny boyfriend created it. We put said boyfriend in the center of the room and blindfolded him. His girlfriend leaned down to his ear and whispered just loud enough for the rest of us to hear: "All you have to do is guess who." And thus, The Game was born.

It started out with gentled kisses on the cheek. Then we got bolder, kisses on the mouth. Placed his hand on our chest, whispered illicit things in his ear, bit him, etc. The whole time giggling and bouncing around on our toes every time he got the name wrong, especially when he guessed his girlfriend!

This became a notoriously favorite game among our friends. One night there were six of us sitting around in someone's house they had rented for the summer before they had to go back to college. There were three girls and three boys. We sent one of the boys on a beer run and it was suggested, very casually, almost too casually, by one of the guys that we play The Game. We were drunk and therefore, well, Game.

First the boys were blindfolded. We discovered that they figured out who was who very quickly based upon a few thing: one girl was in a skirt, another in shorts and another in pants. Well, we took care of that by swapping clothes in the kitchen, assuring the boys we were just getting another beer and they were not to move. One of the girls was chewing gum, so she definitely tasted like cinnamon. When we discovered she didn't have any more, I grabbed her and kissed her, digging the gum out of her mouth with my tongue - by then we had all pretty much swapped spit one way or another so all bets were off. I split the gum with the other girl.

When we went back into the room and resumed play, the boys were flummoxed. The couldn't figure out who was who anymore. Ha! However, soon the tables were turned and it was the girls turn to be blindfolded. Not to be outdone, the boys also did a clothing camouflage of sorts. They stripped down to their underwear and put on their t-shirts with their legs through the arm holes and tied the shirt around their waist so they were all dressed alike. When we took a break later on, the boys went outside to have a smoke break and us girls were laughing because they looked like a bunch of delinquent cherubs.

Favorites were soon chosen. I remember guessing my favorite boy outloud and him telling me to shut up and pinning me to the ground and doing things that no cherub should know what to do. I truly believe this easily could have turned into an orgy type situation, but one of the girls was a virgin and we really didn't want her first time to be this, this, well debauched. So eventually we cooled ourselves off by lounging around on the couch in a big kitten pile sipping beer watching the sun come up.

I highly recommend you try this. All you need is some slightly naughty friends, a blindfold or two or three and some alcohol certainly doesn't hurt. Creativity is the key, it can be as clean or as outrageous as you and your friends want.

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My Year as an Anchoress
2006-12-08 10:35 p.m.

Anchoresses never left their abode, ate little, and their principal engagement was the constant contemplation of God. An anchoress would make a higher commitment to destroying the sensuality of her body, thus increasing her connection to the divine. - Wiki

I don't know if I really constantly contemplated God. I mostly contemplated CSI: Las Vegas and trashy novels. I was nauseous so I ate little and my sensuality was fairly destroyed on its own accord. Whether or not it increased my connection to the divine, I have yet to discover.

When I got terribly ill, it became difficult to leave the house. Mostly due to fatigue, malaise and pain. I took up residence on the couch and my laptop became not only my work station, but also my main contact with the outside world.

Last week on NPR, they gave the statistic that men think about sex every 52 seconds and women think about sex once a day. I can tell you that during last year my sex drive went below once a day. Primarily because I wasn't seeing anyone and even if I was, I didn't have the strength or stamina to actually do the deed. If I couldn't go grocery shopping on my own, how on earth was I suppose to swing naked one legged from the chandelier while screaming out Javier's name with an authentic Argentinean accent? It just wasn't going to happen. Unless I found a man who was turned on by cadavers, I knew I was in for an extended period of time dating myself.

Dating myself primarily took the form of buying myself adorable little presents off the internet. I became close personal friends with the UPS man. In fact, one day I had a delivery from DHL, Fed-Ex AM, Fed-Ex PM, UPS three times and the United States Postal service. I felt truly and utterly spoiled.

The nice thing about being sick is that you tend to look good. If I quarter for every time someone said "Well, you look good." I'd have $14.75. Losing weight and running a constant low grade fever make you look utterly fabulous. However, being stuck at home doesn't lead one to many opportunities to meet or date people (unless you like delivery drivers and mine are all married). I considered once breaking one of my windows just so someone (hopefully a cute man) would come over and fix it. However, I live in a 100 year old house and thought the cost of fixing a window may be somewhat astronomical and then it wouldn't match my other drafty melty old windows.

After awhile, er, self pleasure, didn't even seem important. My BOB, Fernando, hasn't seen the light of day in months and for some reason my body is okay with that. The thing I fear most is when the opportunity presents itself, I may kill the poor boy. Maybe that's why I like younger men. They're fairly resilient; they bend but they don't break. Unfortunately, they tend to scare easily. I'm going to have to casually work into the getting-to-know-you conversation over wine some basic questions:

KFK: "This is nice, I'm having a really great time."
Perfect Guy: "Me too, you look beautiful tonight."
KFK: "Thanks. So is there any history of heart disease or stroke in your family?"
PG: "Uh no. So what's your favorite movie?"
KFK: "I absolutely loved 'A Room With a View.' Have you ever had a head injury?"
PG: "No...what kind of music do you listen to?"
KFK: "I listen mostly to alternative but I like pretty much everything except for country and rap. Do you know your blood type?"
PG: "I'm AB negative. You're sure asking a lot of medical questions."
KFK: "I know, I apologize. *tosses hair alluringly* So would you say you have a high or a low pain threshold?"
PG: "I guess high."
KFK: *pursing lips provocatively* "Would you say you're in good shape?"
PG: "Well, I try to hit the gym three or four times a week."
KFK: "Let's go to my house there's something in my bedroom I want you to see."
PG: "What would that be?"
KFK: "Why me, silly."

A girl can dream, can't she?

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Stealing Second.
2006-12-07 7:27 p.m.

My first kiss happened the summer of eigth grade. My bestfriend at the time was Lori and she lived in a neighborhood with lots of kids, wheareas I lived on a tiny island with a small amount of kids my age, almost all of them girls. The boy's name was Steven James. I can tell you his real name for two reasons: first of all, that's a pretty darn common name and second, he was in a really bad motorcycle accident after high school that wiped out his memory and he has no idea who I am or the fact that he was my very first kiss.

Lori's parent's were light sleepers, but we were like mission impossible ninjas and knew exactly how to open the sliding glass door without a making a single sound (except for the damn cat wanting to know what fun things we were up to!) and sneak out. We'd usually walk down the street to the local 7-11 and get high on sugar and play video games. I was a pro at Ms. PacMan. The clerk would always ask us: "Uh, your parents know where you are?" "Oh yeah, they gave us the quarters." Or we pilfered them from mom's change jar, whatever.

One balmy summer's night we ran into Steve, a couple of his friends and his older brother who we'll call John because I'm fairly certain that's what his name was. John was in High School and was widely revered for his adult status. He had a bottle of vodka hidden in his coat that he let Lori and I take hits off of while we were walking through the neighborhood. I remember stumbing into the street laughing and John grabbing me around the waist and pulling Lori onto his other side. The three of us walked with our arms around each other and I remember thinking to myself, so this is flirting. I pretended to stumble again just so I could feel his arm tighten around me and have him giggle and ask if I was all right and then tease me. The attention felt nice.

John walked us back to his and Steve's house and then disappeared, doing mature things I supposed. The boys had something akin to a treehouse but there was no tree. It was like a shed on the ground with a little bench for sitting/sleeping and lots of pillows and the obligatory pilfered porn. We snuck in there with the boys who were supposed to be having their own sleepover in the shed. We kept the lantern off because "they didn't want Steve's parents to think they were still awake and come check on them." So there we were in complete darkness, I had the delicious Steve sitting on one side of me and another cute boy on other. Both of them were frantically vying for my attention. Not only was it flattering and amusing, but I had my first taste of feminine power. Steve finally won out and kissed me first. I remember the other boy's hands fumbling around on my head and Steven's until he figured out he'd lost on the girl pool.

"Damn." Sorry, no real girl for you! This wasn't only my first kiss but also my first make out session. You know what I mean, when you kiss so long, your lips are swollen and bruised and you're dizzy from lack of oxygen (and probably vodka). It was also the night I was felt up for the first time. First sips of straight vodka, first kiss and second base all in one night! Definitely a banner evening. I wouldn't let him go any further and became a pro at slapping away hands that wanted to roam south of the equator. Over the clothes was fine, but you weren't getting these Guess jeans off me, baby.

Before sunrise, Lori and I, giddy with hormones (she had her own make out session, but the saucy girl 'claimed' to have let him go to third. Years later I learned she lied and actually achieved third base status in high school with the confession 'it fucking hurt!') snuck back into her house and into bed only an hour before the household woke up and her mother was pounding on the door asking us if we wanted pancakes.

There's something terribly sad and yet sweet knowing that I have to carry this memory around for two people. When was your first kiss?

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The Pron Files.
2006-12-06 9:43 p.m.

Sex Diaries Part Two: Again, if you're related to me go to the Sephora or Amazon wishlist links on the right and buy me something pretty for Christmas and don't read this.

I'm trying to remember when I first saw porn. I remember being at an all girl birthday party in junior high and someone found an old forum magazine in a garbage can (it was a tad mildewy around the edges) and we were reading the sexy stories outloud to each other. I remember that as being terribly amusing for some reason. Probably because we didn't understand half of it and couldn't believe that people would do those things.

The first viewing was probably at a party in high school that was directly across the street from the high school stadium where a football game was happening and where my bestfriend and I were supposed to be. Instead, she convinced me to go to this party so she could see her flavor of the month. She was in the back bedroom with him drinking straight vodka and doing things that I wasn't doing yet with boys and I was stuck in the living room with a bunch of metal boys drinking Michelob watching Star 80. Yes, that's not a porn but I arrived at the very end where her husband killed her than strapped her to some sort of fucking machine and had angry sex with her corpse. I had never been so uncomfortable in a room full of horny teenage boys in my life. This goth/punk girl, needed to get out of there ASAP. I found my inebriated friend and dragged her across the street to the stadium and walked her drunken ass around until the football game was over.

Later on in life, I dated a guy who was obsessed porn, probably too much, I suspected. However, being the trooper that I am, I watched everything with him. I think the only thing that I actually gleaned from pornography (other than than feeling terribly fat whenever I watched one) was that the whole shaving just along the bikini line during summer had to go. I think the boyfriend even called me something along the lines of bohemian or possibly neanderthal, it's a bit blurry in my memory.

So for years after, I simply used a mixture of yoga, a narrow toothed comb, some sharp scissors and a razor (that gave me razor burn every single time, dammit), until the manufactures finally figured out that women were trimming themselves down there and came out with this puppy. *Insert the Sound of Angel's Singing* I love this baby. It's like having your own personal Bonsai tree between your legs, only it doesn't take a hundred years to grow. Plus the snazzy little attachments make eyebrow trimming a snap. Because if I'm not diligent, I can easily look like Brooke Shields with a uni-brow.

Personally, I like something a little more severe than a regular bikini, but I'm not too hot on the Brazilian or being completely shaved, or the little landing strip. Just my personal preference. Some people think shaving equates little girls and thus pedophilia, but no one is going to mistake me for ten year old with these hooters and swell of hips.

Anywhoo, I digress. Fortunately, the great thing about hair is if you shave it all off, it grows back so you can't really screw it up too bad. Except when it gets that certain length where it starts poking through your lace knickers and you itch like crazy and people stare at you because you're constantly trying to subtly adjust your panties and there is absolutely no subtle way to adjust your panties when you're female. Men have free pass to rearrange the boys whenever they feel necessary, but if I were to stick my hands down my skirt and start hopping up and down, people would think I was masturbating or having a seizure.

I did try a waxing job once for my birthday, but found it too painful. It was also way too intimate to have a total stranger prodding around my cooch with hot wax, tweezers and a magnifying glass. It was totally embarassing. I felt like she needed to buy me dinner first and ask about my feelings. Plus, I ended up with some popped blood vessels and she burnt my ass with the wax (I had my upper legs done too, so it was that part right where your thigh meets the crease of your ass). Uh, ouch?

After I broke up with Prono King, I haven't seen any since and frankly, just don't really care to. Well, maybe some day on a lark in a sleazy hotel room with Brad Pitt after our Viper breaks down outside of Vegas, but other than that, meh. I like sexy words better, because my head can make up neater pictures than anything a director could come up with. Plus books don't make me feel short fat and inadequate. That's just my own baggage and preference. When women are writing, directing and starring in porn, call me and I'll give it another go but for now, men can keep their pizza boy here's your tip fantasies to themselves. Now, don't get me wrong, I will never do anything to help ban your right to make, watch or do anything you want with other consenting adults. I simply choose what to put inside my own head. Because I'm sure other people think what I write or do is offensive. I'm not kinky, I'm not vanilla, I'm...kinkilla. I totally want a cape that says that.

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The Sex Diaries.
2006-12-06 1:48 a.m.

If you are related to me, you probably want to skip this week's entries because I'm going to stick with the theme of S-E-X. I was ninteen when I lost my virginity. (See, run away now). I wish I could say I met the love of my life and gave myself to him after an extended courting ritual and me hemming and hawing with dramatic whispers of "Oh, we shouldn't, but I want to, but we shouldn't, what if - shhh."

Somewhere around the time I turned eighteen a timer went off inside of me and I was just ready to lose it. I was ready and it really didn't matter who it was.

Seriously, I lucked out, because first I was dating a felon, you know, the bad boy in the leather jacket I met at the dance club that called me collect from The Joint and gave me a diamond ring. Then the bastard somehow finagled it back "just to look at it" and pretended to throw it out the car window and immediately dumped me for my "friend" Suzanne. I've always chastized myself that I didn't see it coming and just swallowed the damn ring there and then. Anyway, when the police came to talk to me later (I found out he broke into a house and stole the ring among other things) I told them everything including where to find him. Hell hath no fury and all that.

Anyway, while I was seeing Felon Boy between his incarcerations at the local jail, I met Mos. We'll call him Mos because he had the Morrissey haircut and actually looked like he could have been his younger brother.

I didn't have a clue about what love was but when Mos learned I was on the verge of going to school at WAZU, on the other side of the state, with the rest of my crew he broke into tears. I think that's when I realized what love was. When your heart would ache so much just to be apart from someone.

The first time we had sex was rather amusing. I knew that losing my virginity would hurt. A lot. So I braced myself with a bottle of champagne behind Denny's. He had a friend who was out of town with his family who graciously loaned us his house for our mutual deflowering. Mos climbed the fence to the balcony to the boy's room then came downstairs to let me in. I remember there were a lot of dogs. They knew Mos so they didn't care that we were in the house. We went upstairs, ripping off each others clothes and got too it on the floor (didn't want to mess up his friend's bed). I remember he went down on me I nearly had an out of body experience. It felt so wonderful. "Where did you learn how to do all this?" I asked, because frankly I didn't have a clue and was just following his lead. I had only gone to second base at that point. He looked at me and said with complete seriousness. "I read alot of books." and I remember laughing, because it was terribly cute that he had studied so diligently before this night.

The actual sex part was extraordinarily painful. I couldn't figure out how on earth I would ever be able to get a man's penis inside of me without screaming out in pain and being ripping in twain. (Hey, that rhymed). So I made him stop. I probably gave that poor boy the worst case of blue balls in the history of mankind, but Mos was the perfect gentleman and stopped so I wouldn't cry. I think he was just elated that he was no longer technically a virgin. We decided that we'd have to take it in stages and it took about three separate occasions until I could have sex. Then and only then did I understand what the big deal was. Wow, it felt good and orgasms with someone else were freaking awesome! Giving someone else an orgasm made me feel like a goddess. I was hooked.

I think Mos occasionally reads this after finding me on My Space earlier this year, so if you're out there. I'm glad you were my first. Yeah, we were too young to be sporting those slender engagement rings and pledging eternal love, but I've always held a part of you in my heart.

We walked the beach the next morning and this is the poem he wrote me. Sweet. So, how old were you?

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Lets talk about sex.
2006-12-05 12:45 a.m.

Why don't we talk about sex? That got your attention. So I was reworking my three way paralytic sex scene and wondering if I wanted more sexual interaction between the two men than just the blood-shared kiss. I ended up simply elaborating on the kiss. It kind of came to my attention that I don't really know what boys do when they're in bed together. I've been reading Stephen Frye's biography and he talks about being gay and falling in love at the private all boys school and how gay sex is more than just - uh, total focus on the bottom. Well, as a straight girl this was news to me! I mean, think about it. As a girl sex is generally : in, out, in, out, until someone orgasms and anything else is considered foreplay - I mean there's lots of the anything else parts and I'm creative in more than just my writing, but you can see where I'm coming from. So to speak.

I also hate to define myself a certain sexual preference. It seems so limiting and aren't we kind of done with labels? Especially, when sex these days is much more for the sake of pleasure than reproduction. I've always told myself that I would be open to whomever my soulmate was no matter what gender they showed up in. But honestly, throw a good looking man in front of me and I go absolutely wild. I don't get that from women. With girls it's much more of a complimentary compare and contrast thing. I'm attracted to girls who look like me and I admire girls who have attributes that I don't: long legs, height, smaller boobs, are thinner, etc. I'm an avid girl watcher. (I've probably just scared all my girlfriends).

So, I have no idea where I was going with this, except to say that I'm probably pretty naive when it comes to what goes on behind some people's bedroom doors when I thought I had it all figured out.

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Favorite Christmas Songs Meme
2006-12-04 7:26 p.m.

Dr. Wannabe has tagged me with the your five favorite Christmas Songs meme so here it goes:

1) Christmas Wrapping - The Waitresses
2) Just Like Christmas - Low
3) Feed the World - Every cool 80's Band/Singer
4) Let it Snow - Ella Fitzgerald
5) All I Want For Christmas is You - Maria Carey (quit laughing)

As usual, I will leave it up to you to tag yourself. If you do please leave a comment so I can run over and see what fabulous songs you put up.

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