Friday, October 28, 2005
Roman and I went to see "Capote" last night. It was astounding. Absolutely amazing. I have never seen a man's inner conflicts, and his path to emotional suicide, so skillfully portrayed. If Phillip Seymour Hoffman doesn't get an Oscar nomination, there is no justice in this world.
And now, ah... a long, quiet weekend, with no big events, stretches blissfully out in front of me. Maybe I'll rearrange my bookshelves.
(I know, that's not what you think of me doing with my weekends. But I'm a girl who needs her down-time, too.)
Oh, and the new column and calendar, in case you're looking for ideas about what to do with your weekend.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
But I do like to look nice, and it's relatively easy for me to buy clothes, since I am neither very large nor terribly small, but sort of in the middle. My mom, for example, is five feet tall and small-framed, and then there's Miss K, who's a six foot Amazon queen with a very hour-glass figure. I have seen how they both really have to hunt to find things that fit. Me, I can usually slide neatly into a size six, though not always. I think some women's clothing designers size their clothes by throwing darts at a chart on the wall, because I have purchased clothing in size four, size six, and even a size eight, all in one day, in one store. In my closet I have clothes that say they are "small", some that have been deemed "medium", and some that purport to be "large". All for the same body. Go figure.
Fetish-fashion designers are particularly evil about this: I have fetishwear with labels that say "XL". Extra large? Are you kidding me? What would medium be, Mary-Kate Olsen after a week-long crystal binge? If I ever catch up with Catherine Coatney, that bitch has a lot of explaining to do.
So you never know until you try it on, and taking one's clothes off and on, and off and on, gets old after a little while, doesn't it?
So I do shop online some, although that's always a crap-shoot. For example, here's a very cute pair of boots over at Vicky's Secret. (Not the dress. Hate the dress.) And only $88, that's cheap.
But you don't really know what you're getting. It may be time for a round at Nordstrom. Hey, I know, I need a fit-slave. I mean, a female submissive who has exactly the same measurements as me. I'd send her to do my shopping.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Oh, my god, do I love this site. No, not because it’s got lots of pictures of boy’s bits – but because it does address the ago-old male question: “How does my dick measure up to other guys?”
Max and Roman are both quite free of any penis-anxiety, which is great. But I’ve known guys who were sorta anxious about the issue, although most of them had no need to be. But if you’re a straight guy, I can see how you’d kinda wonder what other guy’s dicks looked like. There’s such a tremendous variation, and porn movies are really not a representative sample. (Especially gay porn, good lord, I think they grow those boys in nuclear laboratories somewhere. It can't be natural. I know you can do a lot with camera angles, but still.)
Now, I say most of the guys had no reason to be anxious, but that’s just my opinion, and I have to admit: I’m so not a size queen. But there are women who are. God knows I’ve fisted any number of women who seemed to enjoy it very much, and whenever I’ve done it in front of boys, it’s occurred to me that I’m probably giving at least one of them a serious inferiority complex.
(I double-fisted a woman once, and that was the one occasion where I got a flicker of understanding of why some men have a primitive fear of women’s pussies. I had both hands in there, probably about three inches past the wristbone, and she was thrashing and rolling around, and I realized that instead of my controlling her body, she was sort of controlling mine. I had to move in sync with her, or get my wrists seriously twisted. It was definitely a “wait a minute, who’s running this fuck?” moment.)
I have met one guy whose dick was so big that it was a problem for him. I was twenty years old, I was an escort, and he was this thin little white guy, wiry, but very small-framed. I showed up at his place, he was very sweet and pleasant, we chatted for a little while and then – we went to the bedroom and he took off his pants and he’s got this…monster thing between his legs.
I took one look and stepped back and said, “Oh, I so don’t think so.” As I said, I am not a size queen. It wasn’t a long, skinny one either. It had serious girth.
He sort of sighed and said, “Yeah, I get that from a lot of the girls. It’s really a hassle.”
I wound up hooking him up with another lady who I knew had great - shall we say- depth of personality. (And who had given birth to two children.) When he stripped down, her eyebrows went up. “Wow. That’s like, uh…wow.”
The two of us stood there studying him like military generals eyeing a hill that needed to be taken. “Can you do it?” I asked.
She squinted one eye and drummed her fingers on her chin, considering. “Hell, give me the lube, I’ll try.”
Even getting a condom on him required three hands, but we managed. Then she laid him down and positioned herself atop him. “Now,” she said firmly. “You don’t move, you hear me? Unless I say you can. You lie still.”
She began working her way down inch by inch. It was kind of like watching a boa constrictor swallowing prey, only in reverse.
And damned if she didn’t eventually swallow up a good four-fifths of him, which he seemed to think was pretty keen. Later she confided to me, “Now I know what it feels like to have a soda can in my pussy.”
It’s a shame he seemed to be a straight guy. He could have raked in money in gay porn.
Monday, October 24, 2005
I usually tell people that 48 hours is enough notice for me to work something out for you, but lately I've been inundated with people who want my attention. And how can I complain about such a charming problem?
These things go in cycles - I'm guessing that in a week or so I'll be slightly less booked up. So if you can only do shorter-notice scheduling, try me again around November 1st.
Educational note: A lot of people have asked me about how to learn to do cutting. Well, I got the info too late to put it in the Kink Calendar, but there will be a workshop on cutting at the Wet Spot, on October 25th from 7pm- 9pm. This is a fundraiser for the Wicked Wymyn leather conference, sponsored by Seattle Women of Leather.
(Matisse, what's cutting? It's a body-mod/BDSM technique. Finished product here, graphic action shot here. Don't try this at home, kids.)
One caveat: This may be a women-only event, I'm not sure. So if you're a boy, I'd find out before I showed up at the door. I hope it's co-ed, just because cutting is a skill that you really need to be taught in person, by an experienced practioner. But it is true that women - especially lesbians and bi women - do tend to do more bloodsports than men anyway. Go figure.
Now a question for the New Yorkers: A charming, recently relocated reader writes:
"Do you have a suggestion of where to go to get into the scene in NYC? I've always been rather envious of the vibe the Wetspot seems to have, and am looking for something similar in New York. I'd be sort of new to the whole public BDSM idea anyway, but having a new life means it's probably time to try some new things, right?"I do admire people who aren't afraid to take risks. However, I don't know of anything like the Wet Spot in NY. My intelligence suggests that it's mainly stand-and-model bars, swing-club-like establishments, and the private-party scene, which of course you have to know someone to get into. There's TES, of course. Other suggestions?