Tag Archives: Masturbation

Perspective inside a Perspective


Art 0
I’m tired of masturbating to him.

I wonder if it’s true, what he vaguely alleged, if I’d be able to overlook his emotional debuts and tiny manic moods if we actually had frequent sex?  And the fact remains that this shocked me because I paused more to myself than to him.  This could be a half-truth and this made me feel troubled and by troubled I mean my perspective on this matter had zero perspective on this matter (which calls for this entry).

Where would I be mentally or emotionally say if we had sex continuously for 3 months in the time we decided to get involved?  Where would he be? It’s been brought to my attention time and time again how sex is important to me.  I could live in part-time denial but I’ve been in the process of accepting myself for who I am a lot lately.  So where would my mindset be if we had continuous sex?  See, we only engaged in sex once for 3 pleasant hours:  One month and 12 days ago.  It’s going to be longer because he’s in California now.  (I’m not sure why I’m counting besides the obvious?  This is highly unlike me.  Plus I’m getting sex mighty well from elsewhere as is.) :)

It’s easy to memorize when I decided the next morning after our breaking night, how he said he loved me in the back of an Arab store drinking his sorrows to Sapporo beers as we made out like rebellious teenagers in public with his one hand scaring me as it clenched to my ponytail in a minor dominating matter as he vomited his feelings into the windows of my unready soul.  It’s easy to memorize how I took this time to conclude that through his mourning there’s a form of strong aphrodisiac from both ends, how I’ve been prepared to give my body to him since a year ago.  But the sealing of the deal was on his mother’s birthday, the first anniversary where she’s to represent a higher plane outside of this physical world.

I believe it’s true I’m in this (mostly?) for the physical aspect. But who’s to say I don’t like him deeply from the bottom of my heart.  That I like the way he manages his voluminous lips with Chapstick.  I like the way he takes care of me and massages my hip flexors and stretches me out like a considerate lover in the middle of a training session.  Or how I like the way he mentions his achy childhood stories with freedom and just how stimulated he becomes (like me) with a forty-minute conversation.

Still this relationship is a square of four total people involved.  We’re each affected by what one does or doesn’t do and by what the other person says and doesn’t say.  We’re each living a separate life and out of the four that make the line only three know while one has some idea.  Still this relationship is odd and dysfunctional.  It’s testing me in ways I’ve never been and it makes me feel things I haven’t felt.  I’m connected even when I try to look the other way.  Still this is part of the beauty:  No true reassurance of anything.  (Perhaps I like it this way?  It keeps the illusion of mystery alive.)  It’s following, weaving and it’s swerving.  It’s make a hard left and its turn a soft right.  And all in all it’s partially misleading.

I like that he reminds me of me.  When he pushes away is when I should be coming forward, when he says no he really means yes.  He creates distance when he doesn’t want to relinquish power.  Above all he tests my water, questions my abilities of patience, romance, positivity, fullness, training, learning to let go, being adventurous, swimming out with the other extroverts of life, nature, flowing, not questioning every single thing (because you can), the six senses and human connection.  Within experiencing somebody you experience yourself.

So where was I about masturbating? ;-)

-Pennington

Mammoth Crush: Dark Knight 2


Dark Knight

Here’s the first part.

During the months to come I was consumed to have my Dark Knight more than ever because rejection fuels me. The universe fueled me in its spinning axis and I couldn’t find a way to let go. Eventually I decided to embark on a Desire Spell in February on the coming of a new bright moon with hopes and dreams of overcoming this mammoth crush. I rubbed the candle with all my energy, heart and focus. I made love to myself on the floor while menstruating and took the blood and smeared it with our names already inscribed by a knife and chanted my hearts desire over and over again until I felt all was sealed. I ended it off with the most important words: If it’s not meant to be than don’t allow it to ever happen.

In April I thought of Dark Knight, I thought of the desire spell and how it had a year to work. However I transitioned my thinking into more positives and being productive in my waking life all the while burying my emotions for this man. Fast-forward and the summer months zipped by and now I could finally bear to look him in his face without an ounce of feeling washing over me unlike last January when I cried wanting to spend New Year’s with him. Fall was rolling on in quick and just about the same time of year when we spent much time together, the binding circle. By September his attitude changed drastically and he flirted with me in front of others unveiled and freely.

Within long hallways in front of gym members and coworkers he would hug me 3 times in a row, reaching out to grasp my clothing and pull like a kid who whined at mama for attention. This time around his “thanking me’s” were on a rich personal level during my moments of high-intensity cardio and he would randomly text me asking me if I were okay when I posted Facebook statuses of uneasiness or male stalkers. I had tiny wonders about his new stance but knew better than to fall for his hot and coldness. Then one night he kept smiled and looked me deeply in the eyes and said, “I had a dream about you, it was very sensual, and the entire dream had a real big impact on me.”

Once October came about everything changed completely, all the coworkers planned to go to a 5-star restaurant to celebrate the weekend life and when I asked Dark Knight if he was also coming along he stated with his ace of a smile beaming, “If you’re going, I’ll go.” I smiled and once again never took him seriously. But pondered when I got dressed up in an orange floral fitted blouse with a short loose skirt and pointed flats where he stared at me and stood speechless and wanted to say something more but stood on reserve and I in suspense.

In the dim steakhouse restaurant tension was building. Silently I saw my coworkers arguing with the grimaces of whose share the check was as I entertained others while they entertained me. I observed strangers walking by ogling my breasts which sat on the table while I sipped from multiple drinks as Mr. Dark Knight came to sit next to me and came clean about the past and he’s been in denial of his feelings for me for a very long time.

By the time we went to the pizza shop with half the crew we started at the beginning of the night and before the strip club he poured into my eyes with his chocolate almonds profoundly with the talk of if I wanted to get involved without labels while I puffed on a cigarette only to get more of a buzz from his words. I was in total disbelief but said yes.

And in the middle of naked women dancing, crowded room, bass booming, feeding cake, mooning people accidentally with my striped sporty green panty and in between Dark Knight’s clients who wanted to grope my breasts, swiping cards for drinks, drinks and more drinks, engaging in conversations with dirty old men, the best part was holding hands in the back of the cab secretly with Dark Knight away from everyone. The look and smile in his eyes were amazing with a sense of relief.

More barhopping and more drinks later everyone left one by one and it was just me and him vibing, his hand on my thigh, my eyes to the left right and middle of him. We closed down the bars on the blocks and broke night walking the city streets and my drunkenness died. He asked me to spend the night at his house but I knew if I did I would regret it more than if I didn’t. I wanted things to feel right and that didn’t. So on I went home in a cab where he called me and asked me nicely to touch myself while he touched himself. I was so nervous I couldn’t bring myself to an orgasm.

The next day when all the sober lit up my world and the disbelief quiet down until mere disappearance the question became, “Could I get truly involved with someone I idolize?”

P.S.

Should I write more about his story?

-Pennington

Guys Are Never My Friends


Ever.

This is a fact in my life.

Regardless of the information I do my best to create a benefit of doubt because maybe I believe in that lotto line awfully much:  Hey you never know.  Still I learn the error within a benefit.  My hunches are typically correct especially when I went with this so-called friend of mine out to the village where he put me on the spot with my sexual issues to a complete lesbian stranger and decided to purchase a vibrator along with silicone liquid for me to take home while he bought himself a cock ring.

The episode he pulled in the Pink Pussycat Boutique had me extremely upset because this is a person who thought it was fine like a friendly sport pat-on-the-ass by his own discernment of me to bring up some of my personal problems (that aren’t really problems actually) to the kind stranger who helped him get toys.

It’s unfair and there’s absolutely no reason (unless there are hidden motives) on any account for a person to set you (or anyone) up for a high level of awkwardness and a clear disregard for not only your privacy but established boundaries that are supposed to be known between so-called friends despite your everyday boldness in life.  It is not like I met him yesterday.  I know him for years.

It doesn’t give anyone the right under any circumstance to involve YOUR issues because it’s fucking YOURS.  Why is he not laying his subjects as a matter of anxiety on the table for the comforting kind stranger?  Because things are never what they seem at first.  This isn’t about him trying to figure out for my benefit.  But for his.

I am quite happy with my mind state and how it’s evolving and I’m still discovering my petite issues pertaining to sex and intimacy.  But my sex concerns aren’t for anyone, friend or foe, relative or stranger to judge, pick apart or have an open discussion in public because HE, not I, wants an objective view of why I do not masturbate or choose to have promiscuous sex.

This guy doesn’t want an objective view and he’s not looking into understanding because he already has locked into his prejudiced scrutiny. The better approach would have been to ask me privately if I find him sexually appealing.  If my not masturbating means he has zero shot at my precious vagina?  My views have good purpose and if I don’t want to masturbate, one should automatically assume I have an excellent reason as to WHY I DON’T masturbate in the first place.  (It’s not like I never done it.) Self-control and discipline since you asked. ;)

What’s upsetting as shit to me has everything to do with the boundaries he has the audacity to push.  Like on one occasion he wanted to know the color of my nipples and pussy.  Now, would he ask his male friend what color is his penis or nipples?  I highly doubt it.  So why treat me different from your male friend if I’m a friend?  (I take this friendship shit seriously.)  And this is the thing about people, they are going to try and take advantage based on what your personality is like since I’m the kind of person who talks about sex as casual as the common cold conversation in the office.  Clearly it becomes a question of:  Why not drive the extra mile and see if she’ll tell me the color of her nipples?

It’s about people who see you in a personal light and believe they know you more than most rather than think the opposite which is they don’t know who the fuck you are in spite of their own delusions.  They shove and shove and shove their own perceptions of you down your fucking throat until you vomit all those impressions they collectively collected with a bang of FUCK YOU! Than they take about thirty steps the fuck back.

I couldn’t help but wait a few days to calm my furious ass down at the gift he bought me.  I made it a note to send him text messages questioning his motives until he confirmed that he’s my friend with the potential to be a lover.  And when I asked him if the sexual tension only comes from his part alone?  He feels the sexual tension comes from both me and him, cementing the delusion further.  I told him loud and clear I only want to be friends and he could take it or leave it.

He said he wants to be my friend and didn’t hit me up for a few days.  Than of course we haven’t hung out ever since that night.  He has cancelled on me probably as many times as his other lady friend (he thought he was going to have an ongoing casual-sex relationship) did to him.  I told him simply as a friend that he has no chance with her.

But you know how things go, life, it’s a thing you have to learn yourself and even though you go through shit, you just have to laugh at it.  From my hateful heart I say fuck those benefits of doubts.  I’m going to stay with my gut as it doesn’t stray me wrong.

Plus who needs so-called friends like that?

-Pennington

Sexual Filler Songs



I’m currently a hypersexual wildebeest meaning anything sets me off such as a piece of fabric caressing my skin to flirting with the coworker who’s dying to eat my pussy in the babysitting room at the gym.  I’m a sexual monster and I mean this in the most repulsive manner.  I’m completely ill with my days and nights of gargantuan hormones.  Currently speaking, no amount of Cardio, Yoga or Weightlifting has cured it this time around, not even a spec.

I’ve been scouting the gym and looking for possibles as if I were in some local bar.  I fantasized about picking one out, treating him to coffee where I’d perform my needs analysis and put my wicked talent of people character on the table for sex.  My stare is fully manic and my eyes are hypnotic demonic, with mouth ajar and head tilted slightly to the side with a flame-broiled horny face.

Earlier today before passing by a male stranger I gave him sultry squinting bedroom eyes with my lips puckered into a bodacious smooch.  I don’t normally like getting attention.  But I enjoy giving it to others and letting their mind race with entertaining thoughts of me and what I can do.  I play the part of a person’s fantasy very well just like an Oscar actress, a Porn Star or a beloved hooker.  He never saw it coming and I knew as he kept walking he wondered was it aimed towards me? and was it intentional? Yes. Yes it fucking WAS!

Being that I’ve been wildly consumed by my needs and desires and never consumed by the thought of actually and literally masturbating I thought to come up with a list of songs I listen to when I’m feeling hypersexual.  Some may get a kick out of this because some of you fuckers openly masturbate to me while others may actually get to probably enjoy a new tune.  Unless of course, you’ll be willing to let me in on one of the songs you play when you’re feeling extra frisky? :D

1. Heidi Montag – Body Language
2. Oro Solido – La Tanga
3. Blondie – Call Me
4. Lana Del Rey – Lolita (Or Lolyta)
5. The Raconteurs – Broken Toy Soldiers
6. Norah Jones – Turn Me On
7. Sade – Is It A Crime
8. Country Strong Soundtrack – Shake That Thing!
8. Wynter GordonDirty Talk
9. Donna SummerLove To Love You Baby
10. Calvin Harris – Feel So Close
11. Britney Spears – Selfish
12. Shakira – La Tortura
13. Flashdance Soundtrack – Manhunt
14. Maroon 5 – Stutter
15. Janet Jackson – Throb
16. Metro Station – Shake It
17. Junior Reid – One Blood
18. Fiona Apple – The First Taste
19. Enrique Iglesias – I’m Fucking You
20. Billy Idol – Rebel Yell

-Ms. Hall

Sex With Him: Word Porn!


Timeless, sexual tension, yielding, workouts, making love, beastly, kissing frenzy, 4 and a half hour marathon, fierce, rough, sweat profusion, starry-eyed dramatization, leg-trembling, compressed, fast, rough, sensual, pain, pleasure, aero-bed, mushroom head, mutual masturbation, before – after – during questions, moan-galore, flexibility, countless positions, restless, continuous, werewolf glow, gentle, aggressive hands, ripples of muscle, purple, ram, frozen, shy, vulnerable, open, honest, six-pack abs, blurry, learning, breathing into and out of each other, grunt, secret mourn, guilt, brief, yearn, affectionate, fucking, profanity, name-yelling, God included, face-caressing, erotic, bang cervix, sick, infected, addictive, chemistry, breaths of desire fire.

-Pennington

There’s A Saying: Actions Speak Louder Than Words


A Jenga tower falling down
Image via Wikipedia

Now I hate listening to this expression no matter who’s fucking mouth it comes out of.  Mostly because I’m the kind of person who tends to thrive on what a person’s saying (whether that’s a female trait or not doesn’t really fucking matter) and thrives even more on what a person doesn’t say.  Want to find out about a person?  It’s simple!  Ask questions and allow them to answer with no interruptions on your part.  Most people who live in the center of society’s sex will speak mostly and generally on how they’d like to be perceived.  Some people will reveal a lot, except that most of the things they revealed are as trivial as a handshake.  In relationships, the words that are often never said are the ones people SHOULD notice.  If notice too late, then, what do you think would happen?  All the Jenga pieces fall apart.  Then, who laugh lasts?  Now when it comes to certain instances, circumstances or the simple creatures of the world like: Men.  Well, I must say that actions indefinitely speaks louder than words.

Some of you may know, I have a non-exclusive partner who I’ve been with for 8 years now.  Some things never change until one manages to be infected by an enormous amount of sickness.  This will ensure at some point, when the migraines become unbearable that you’ll break away from the disease of a person, place, situation or thing.  These actions, speak all so loudly in the words:  Lies and Bullshit!  I fail to understand why people would even dare to choose one or the other with me.  You cannot lie or bullshit to the folks who hold a fierce amount of wisdom coupled with a dangerous sixth sense ability like a God.

For Pete’s Sake I have dreams of other people’s dark secrets when I sleep.  They’re dying to come out, but you know how people are always hiding from themselves.  I can only imagine this is where all the lies and bullshit stems from.  People are scared of judges and coming out of their house of denial.  And this would be why I respect few in this department.  I will accept you as soon as you hold no shame and realize that the other expression: Honesty is the best policy is the most vital in this fucked up world.  So moving on..

A subject where Actions Speaks Louder Than Words comes down to the most insignificant hobby anyone can get into:  Masturbating.  Some of you may know where I stand when it comes to Masturbating.  Some don’t. Now if a person has an issue with being intimate with a person due to the fact that they have been molested/raped, then this is an exception for them!  However, on the other hand, I do not like it!  Some of the reasons why I do not like it and may seem extreme are:  It builds greed, lust, develops prostate cancer, it becomes hard for folks to figure out what is fact from fiction, gives a sense of urgency equipped with a hunger for frequency on the NEED to cum, furthers the implications of premature ejaculation and devalues your state of mental, spiritual, sexual and physical being (including your partner).

My partner is fully aware of my belief systems when it comes to Masturbating.  We engaged in numerous conversations about the dilemmas I find with them.  My partner claims he masturbates 2-3 times in a 7-day period.  It may not seem like much to the folks who masturbate numerous times a day over the course of seven days.  But IT IS!  Especially when my partner comes down to visit me for another 2-3 x in a week and expects me to make him cum as well.  I say make because I’m not a dumb bitch!  (And regardless of what the fuck he says, “You don’t need to make him cum.”  He’s fucking trying to feed me the bullshit!  And in this case, actions speak..well… you know the rest.)

This would mean he’ll cum at least 2-3 times by himself at home 9possibly more?) AND 2-3 times by me.  Do the fucking Math!  That’s a volcano of white eruption.  AND one I do not admire.  Jesus I don’t even cum this much in a week, regardless of how badly my vagina desires cock or (my favorite!) getting licked!  Cumming this much isn’t only selfish, but this ensures that the frequency of his testicles get emptied out as soon as they desire to tighten their hands on the horror of his soul and lack of self-control to begin with.

Meanwhile he tries to reassure me that I’m not his cumbucket.  And to make a deal with me, he would stop masturbating over at his house if I help to make him cum once a week.  And once again, in this case Actions Speak Louder Than What?  Indeed!  So, why try and bullshit me?  Why lie?  Why act as if cumming isn’t your world when the Deal is saying another story?  Why must cumming be an important factor in anybody’s life?  Why must I, even a little, assist in making him or any other fucking guy in the world cum?  I don’t feel bad for any man who masturbates and never will.  He’s getting off.  He’s performing according to the standards of what he and his penis likes.. and as for me, I can have the leisure of Chatting, Reading a book, Training, Tweeting or Blogging.

But really, if being honest hurts, know that your actions will do all the talking for you.

Pennington