The Intimacy Challenge

There's no rule book for this lifestyle.  I wish there were. I've written a whole bunch of tips and I still believe they are valid, good guidelines, but there are still parts that I haven't been able to master.

Intimacy is one of them. It's not that I haven't had intimacy with anyone other than my husband.  To the contrary, I've been blessed with a number of intimate relationships, and I am grateful for every one.

The problem is that I tend to give away too much of myself in pursuit of intimacy. I charge right in and give my heart away freely and am more than willing to do my part to maintain and grow the relationship, but when it becomes clear that the other person isn't, I just keep giving and giving and giving, hoping that he'll figure it out and come around. You know what? They never do.

Don't get me wrong.  Not every prowling relationship needs to be an emotionally intimate one.  I've had some fantastic fuck buddy relationships that were absolutely wonderful...for what they were. You can read about a bunch of them in the archives. J, P, and C were/are all great examples of this type of relationship.  It's fun. It's exciting. But it's not intimate.

When I say I need a rule book, that's not to say that I haven't learned anything, because I definitely have.  For example, if your lover says he wants an emotionally intimate relationship with you but he rarely, if ever, has time for any substantive conversations or email, he's showing you what he really wants - and it's not intimacy. If the only time he has time for you is when it's time for fucking, he's made it very clear what he wants, regardless of what he says. So why do you keep trying to push him toward intimacy? He wants a fuck buddy. Accept it. Be a fuck buddy or move on.

Here's another example. If a man tells you that he doesn't love you and he's not going to, what should you get from that? That he doesn't love you and he's not going to. I can't imagine why someone would say that in that way to someone they claim to care about, but that's beside the point. Here's what I tend to hear - that he doesn't love me, yet. However, when he continues by saying that he's not going to, that pretty much negates the possibility of "yet." This man either wants to be a fuck buddy or a friend. The conundrum I have is that my close friends, the very few I have, love me. Do I even know how to have a close friendship with someone who says upfront that he's not going to love me?  I don't know. Yeah, it confuses me, too.

Want another example? What does it mean when a very close intimate friend quits communicating with you? No, this isn't a trick question, but it seems to be for me sometimes. The answer is: The relationship is over. If the communication is only one way, it's not communication. If the intimacy is only flowing one way, it's not intimacy.

Now that I've said all that, here's a very important thing to remember - None of those guys are wrong. Maybe they could have expressed themselves better or more directly, but they each made their intentions clear either through what they said or through their actions. They didn't lie. They didn't intentionally try to be hurtful, even if they were. They did their best. That's all we can really ask, isn't it?

They just suck at intimacy. Just like me, only they suck at it by not giving enough of themselves and I suck at it by giving too much.

This is just general relationship stuff.  It has nothing to do with prowling.  When you add the infidelity dynamic it just stirs it up so what was a little messy becomes mud.

The bottom line question is: How much of yourself are you willing to give away in pursuit of intimacy? If the other person has made it clear they don't want that with you (like my examples above), the answer should be NOTHING. If it's the right person and he/she is capable and willing of giving as much a you do, my answer is EVERYTHING because it is, without question, worth it.

Flash Fiction Friday - Only Filtered Light

When she arrived at his room, she saw a blindfold hanging on the door knob with a note attached.

"Put on the blindfold and knock on the door."

Now she was really scared. She met him an hour ago in a chat room for UCLA students and now she was standing at his door, sans panties, about to blindfold herself and turn herself over to him. She wondered what she had been thinking, but even as she wondered, she put on the blindfold and knocked on the door.

She heard the door open and someone took her hand and pulled her inside. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, he whispered in her ear, "Take off your clothes."

She complied quickly, sliding out of her shoes, slipping her jeans down, taking off her sheer over-blouse and pulling off her tank top. She felt him slide her over-blouse back on her arms.

"Keep this on," he said, and he took her hand again, leading her across the room.

There were so many things she wanted to say, but he had clearly instructed her not to speak unless her asked her a question, so she held back.

"Get on the bed," he said. "It's right in front of you."

She reached out and felt it and started to sit.

"On your hands and knees," he snapped.

She scurried into position. He sat on her back and starting binding her ankles when there was a knock on the door.  Quickly cinching the knot he told her, "Stay," and he got up to answer the door.

She turned her head toward the sound of the footsteps but all she could see through the blindfold was filtered light. She heard greetings.  At least four men walked in.  Then she heard one speak above the others.

"So, who's first?"

**************************

See what some other bloggers wrote in response to the same photo for Flash Fiction Friday at Free Advice is Worth What You Pay for It.

The Black Lace Chemise

I'm sick. And it's not the "Gee, I feel a little tired...I wonder if I'm coming down with something" kind of sick. Just in case you didn't know, working moms are tired all the time. If that were a sign of illness we'd all have to get to the Mayo Clinic right away.

No, this the coughing-up-crud, green-stuff-bursting from the nose, head-about-to-explode, cranky-as-a-cornered-raccoon kind of sick.

Not sexy.

Not sexy at all.

It sucks.

Hey, why is it that words associated with bad things also can be associated with blow jobs?  That sucks.  That blows.  Hmm.

Did I mention that my head is fuzzy and I can't focus for very long?

Anyway.....

I was lounging in bed yesterday, hoping that being horizontal would magically lift the virus from my body (it didn't work) and reading a lingerie catalog.  For the ladies in the room, let me share with you that shopping for lingerie probably should not be done when you're feeling like crap, laying in bed with your husband, wearing a dirty t-shirt, the old panties with the hole in the waistband that you never wear outside of the house, and the mismatched wool socks you stole from your husband's dresser. That's not when you're feeling the most sexy.

As I flipped through the catalog, I found a nice little all lace chemise.  It covered everything but was completely see through. Very nice. I showed it to Hubby.

Kat:  What do you think about that?

Hubby:  What for?

Kat: For me!

Hubby: For you? Why?

Kat: So I can look sexy and lure you into my bed for some wild sex.

I sneezed.  Snot flew. Hubby handed me the box of Kleenex.

Hubby: Kat, there is nothing you could wear, say, or do right now that would make me want to have sex with you.

Kat: (Wiping my nose) Oh.

Hubby: (Looking closer at the catalog) That looks like that black lace catsuit that girl who came and danced for us at the house wore.  Remember that?

Kat: Of course, I remember. While you were rubbing your dick against her, I was talking to her about going back to school.  Do you remember that?

Hubby: No.  Why would I remember that?

Kat: Well, do you remember the pictures we took from that night?  The ones of you fucking her?

Hubby:  What?! We took pictures??!!! Are you sure?

Kat: (sneezes again) Of course I'm sure. I took them.  Polaroid. You carried them around in your briefcase to show all your friends for about five years.

Hubby: Really? Why don't I remember that?

Kat: Seriously?  I'm supposed to answer that question?  If you don't remember the pictures, then you probably don't remember that she was sick that night, sneezing, blowing her nose.  She had a really bad cold.

Hubby: No, I don't remember that, but why would it matter? A cold wouldn't affect me wanting to fuck her.

Kat: (looking up at Hubby in disbelief) Right.

Hubby: But man, Kat, do you remember how hot her pussy was peeking through the crotch of that catsuit when she bent over? Oh my god that was amazing.

Kat: Yes, she was very hot. I liked her.

Hubby: And I almost came when you started sucking her tits. Remember that????

Kat: (more sneezing, more snot, more tissue) Yes, I remember.

Pause

Hubby: Kat?

Kat: Yes?

Hubby: I know you don't feel well, but would it be ok if I just fucked you really quick? You don't have to do anything, just roll over - facing away from me.

I didn't say anything.  I just pulled off my holey panties and rolled over and lifted my behind up for him. I sneezed into a pillow. Yuck. Then I realized it was his pillow.  Sweet.

He was right. It was quick, but it still felt pretty good.  Any other time I could have fingered myself while he was in there and cum just as quickly, but I wasn't feeling sexy at all.

I have absolutely no problem being a fuck receptacle when he's in the mood and I'm not. In fact, I appreciate  his understanding and the fact that he didn't want me to try to pretend to be into it. I don't like faking it. I really don't.

Afterwards, I used the holey panties to clean up.

Hubby: You really should get rid of those.

Kat: But they make such a good handkerchief.

I blew my nose into them and threw them into the trash.  We both laughed.

He went back to shopping online.  I went back to the catalog.

Kat:  So you never told me what you think of this chemise.

Hubby: (smiling a wicked smile and pinching my tit) Get it.

An Email from Mistress K

You've been waiting for this email, haven't you? Waiting and feeling your cock twitch from time to time as you think about it. That's good. I want you anticipating the things you're going to do for me.

Sitting at your desk, spread your knees just a little bit apart for me, not so anyone would really notice, but so you know they are a bit wider than you normally sit. Now sit up straight, shoulders back, chest out just a bit. You can close your eyes or not, depending on the situation around you. If you close your eyes, read the next paragraph first.

As you sit there at attention, I want you to think about what a man-slut you are (maybe just a boy-slut?). All those people in that building think you're a nice, respectable guy, but you and I know what you really are, don't we? Whisper what you are out loud right now - a slut, a man-whore, a toy, a tool to be used...by me and whoever else I give you to. Think about how your cock belongs to me. That's right. It's mine, not yours. Not anymore. When you complete the instructions on this page, it's official. You've chosen to give yourself to me. Why? Because you need it. You need to be owned, controlled, directed, used. You need to be treated like what you are.

Think about that for a few minutes...what you are, what you need. Don't think about what you want because that doesn't matter anymore. Your cock isn't yours anymore. Just think about that.

******

Now get up and walk to the restroom. Walk tall, stand straight. I don't care if anyone notices if you're hard. That's how I want you.

Find a stall, enter it, lock it, pull your pants to your knees, sit. Now wait. Close your eyes and think some more about what you are and how much you need (and love!) to be used. Think about how much you want to please me. How you're going to do exactly as I say because you know you must.

Start stroking your cock now. This time, you can use just your hand, a shirt, or lube, but eventually you won't get choices like this. Imagine me standing in front of you and looking at you, watching my slut perform for me. Stroke 10 times slowly, then stop and let go. Breathe. Now 20 times. Stop. Breathe. Imagine how good it will be when you finally have been trained to know what I really want. Stroke some more, this time until you are just about to cum, then stop. Stand and pull up your pants...go back to your desk. That's right. You'll cum when I want you to cum. Not before.

At your desk, sit like I told you too before. Knees apart a bit, shoulders back. Does it feel uncomfortable, wanting to cum, but not being able to? Look around. Who's the first person you see? Man or woman? If it's a man, I want you to think about what it would be like if I told you to strip and bend over so he could fuck you. If it's a woman, think about what it would be like if I told you to sit her on your desk and eat her pussy. What would it be like if they knew what you are?

OK, back to the restroom, Slut boy. Find a stall, you know the drill. Stroke for me.....20 slow strokes at first. Then stop. Is your cock nice and hard? You would enjoy it if I knelt in front of you and sucked you off, wouldn't you? But it's not about what you want. Stroke some more....faster...five strokes, stop for 5 counts, then five strokes, stop for five counts. Repeat this three times, then stop. This should be getting a little frustrating for you by now, isn't it? Good.

Now you need to decide if you really want to be my slut, if you're willing to follow my directions and give your will to me without holding back. This means you'll do as I say when I say. If you fail for any reason, you have to tell me immediately. It also means that if you do anything with your cock (or should I say, MY cock) with another person or with yourself, you get my permission first and you tell me about it afterwards. That's right, you can't even stroke yourself without asking for and getting my permission (by text, email, phone, whatever). Why? Because I own you...you're giving yourself to me.

If you don't want this or if you're not sure, get up right now, get dressed and go back to work. Send me an email that says, "No thanks." If this IS what you need and you agree to the terms I just laid out, start stroking again. Our "agreement" will be sealed when you cum.

Now cum for me. Stroke your hard cock however you'd like until you cum. Feel your last little bit of freedom going away. Feel yourself surrendering. Cum hard for me, my little fuck toy.

That's it.

Finish up and get dressed. Then wait until it's safe, kneel quickly and whisper,"Thank you, Mistress."

When you get back to your desk, email me repeating the terms of our agreement in your own words so I know you understand them. Then wait for my next instructions.

Mistress K

The Super Bowl of Sex - January Sex Blog Chain

You never forget the best sex of your life. That's the topic of this month's Sex Blog Chain - The Best Sex Ever.

Same Sassy Girl starts us off with a series of posts about her first in-person encounter with Philip in many years. It's beautifully written and very hot.  Take the time to read the entire series.  You won't regret it.

Advizor shares three "bests."  Some people just can't follow directions, can they? His "Best time with a stripper" gave me some tingly feelings. I could picture it.  And I wondered how he got half an hour while only paying for three songs.  I'll bet she was enjoying it, too. He also shares an insightful comment on the topic: "Sometimes the best sex you ever had only becomes that as it becomes a memory. You realize it was the last time you are with someone special so it takes on nostalgic importance. Sometimes you realize that by comparison, it was the best, you just did not know it at the time."

Ryan Beaumont shares six "bests" in his post Let's Get Lost in the Magic Place All Alone Now. All are great, but I really like Hot Summer Nights You're My Time of Year. But that's just me.

I have to share my first encounter with J - Best Sex of My Life. Up to that point in time, that was the best sex of my life. But then I met JJ and there was a new "best sex" event.  In fact, there were several, but my all time favorite has to be our 24 hour date: Hours 1-4 of My 24 Hour Date with JJ, Hours 5-16 of My 24 Hour Date with JJ, and Hours 17-24 of My 24 Hour Date with JJ.

Please follow these folks and visit heir blogs often. They are writing about hot sex and naughty relationships all the time. You'll find excellent writing and hot topics.  What more could you ask for?

Next month, our topic is "Love." Please pass the word to your friends and other bloggers.  Anyone is free to join us. The Sex Blog Chain rules and instructions are here.

Just to Be Clear

I'm back from the NMX Blog World conference and people were going on and on ad nauseum about how important it is to add images to every post. I knew that, but I don't do it because I'm usually rushing just to get posts up before someone comes around behind me at the office to see what I'm doing.

But since this is my first day back, I thought I'd give a nod toward doing things right and include an image that expresses the theme of the post and how I feel.

How was that? Clear enough?

Nibbles

One of my favorite things to do is to nibble on a man's neck - slowly, seductively. I also love to nibble on a man's inner thighs and balls and watch his cock just bounce in anticipation.

But that's not what this post is about. I have several things to share with you today, little nibbles of thoughts.

First, don't forget that our January Sex Blog Chain post goes live on Thursday, January 10th. The topic is "The Best Sex of My Life," something all of us can talk about. If you're one of our blogger friends, please get me your links by Wednesday night (or early Thursday morning). As for the rest of you, please be here on Thursday to enjoy what are sure to be some hot stories, and share the post with your friends.

So, this is my third and final night in Vegas and I have had no sex. I know, you're thinking, Has Kat lost her touch? I was asking myself the same question, but life is complex. It's feast or famine, it seems. But I'll see JJ later in the week and the poor man had better be prepared because he'll be attacked by the horniest woman on the west coast. Hey JJ, take your vitamins, Baby.

Last night K and I went to see an old style topless show here in Vegas. It was actually a very good show.  My biggest complaint was that the women were all small-breasted women. If you're going to show tits, I wanna see some serious tits. Know what I mean? I've been spoiled by Cara and Soccer Mom and their stunning breasts. K insists that there were some women in the show that had more than mini-boobs.  I'll trust him on that because I'm pretty sure he was paying much more attention to that sort of thing than I was.

I leave to head back to California tomorrow evening. I'll be glad to get home, mainly because I miss Hubby and my boys. I've learned some good things here at NMX and I've thoroughly enjoyed spending some time with K. Life can be very interesting. Six months ago he shared something with me about baseball via email, and today we're good friends. It's a friendship I value very much.

That's all the nibbles for now. Be safe, Prowlers.