Writing While Pondering

(Warning: this blog post contains irrational capitalization and emphasis, because apparently that's What Needs to Happen Today as if my thoughts are the titles of published articles, or as if I were writing in the 19th century. I assume the urge for caps case will fade, but apparently I couldn't write today without it.)

I don't feel quite THIS helpless today,
but it certainly conveys a need, doesn't it?
Plus, I love my boobs in this picture.

I've been traveling for two weeks (decadent of me... the last hurrah from my windfalls from March), visiting family in Houston (which was comforting and nourishing as always), and seeing a friend in a show in Chicago (I am ashamed that I only seem to support the arts when I know participants, but I guess it's better than never supporting the arts). It was an absurd amount of travel for someone with motion sickness issues.

My mode of operation on the trips was, "Fuck It, I'll Probably Be Fine". Practically speaking, that means I didn't save any energy for tomorrow's activities, instead choosing to recover when needed. It was the equivalent of asking for forgiveness rather than permission between me and my Inner Energy Tank. I did indeed need some recovery times, but I think the anti-worrying approach served me fairly well overall. We'll see if it leads to me working more often (/fingers crossed)

So now I'm back at home, with no injury-level back pain anymore (yay!), with some good fuel in my tank of sexy energy (yay!) and ready to Start Taking Calls (yay!). Exciting!

In theory.

I mean, that's what should be happening, right? It should be my top priority, right? Getting back in the game? Kicking off my summer with a bang of being available 50+ hours / week like in the good ol' days when I first started? Enjoying the luscious boost of energy of being discovered by someone new?

In theory, yes. Absolutely. In theory.

In reality, I'm scattered. And I'm not sure why.

I can easily justify some of the tasks I'm choosing to do today while decisively Not Taking Calls: updating bills and budgets, going grocery shopping, taking out trash and recycling, washing travel clothes, that research favor I promised my friend weeks ago, updating my blog. These are urgent things, necessary things, easy to justify, easy enough to do.

But for 2 hours after I woke up, I did things I cannot justify: Looking up literary agents who represent both erotica and non-fiction to propose a book including some of my more popular blog posts. Researching hosting providers for podcasts. Playing with backgrounds and lighting in case I want to do a video Q&A podcast.

Hmmm. These activities are suspiciously not the same as Taking Calls. These activities are suspiciously not helping move me toward Taking Calls. No, these activities sound like a to-do list for someone who does not want to be Taking Calls at all. Interesting.

It seems that I am now officially Writing While Pondering. Hopefully it's not as dangerous as Dialing While Drunk, but my audience is theoretically larger than one phone call, so it could be even more catastrophic. I'll pretend it'll work out all right. Can you please bear with me while I try to figure out what's going on in my sometimes-non-linear-and-irrational mind? Thanks.

What would have made far more sense: answering the dozens of NiteFlirt emails which have now grown into a Massive Reminder of My Failures In Life so overwhelming that I pretend they're not there. That would get me back in touch with callers I know I love...

But scattered in my NiteFlirt emails are reminders I may not entirely enthusiastic about. Either they are coworkers who send me customer mailings which can drive me into feeling inadequate because I compare myself to Every Single Thing I Am Not Currently Doing, or they are callers who ask me to do things I don't yet feel the energy to do.

(By the way, none of the customers I'm currently avoiding read my blog. Even though it sounds like a lie, I really do like all my blog readers. I think I find it much easier to have energy I for people when I think they might care about me as a person, and not just as a service provider. And let's be honest, at this point, my blog has so little phone sex in it that the only readers I have left are people interested in me as a person, right?)

I have said many times that it is far easier to take a call with someone I know than it is to log on for The Whole World. Logging on blind, not knowing who will call or what they may want... that takes guts. Courage. Self-assurance. Energy. That is, I think, the hardest thing about my job: being ready to answer the phone for The Whole Wide World With All Its Craziness. And courage, self-assurance, and guts are probably in a bit of short supply at the moment after three months of trying not to pressure myself while recovering from a seriously unpleasant back injury.

I'm not quite ready yet to convert humiliation aimed at me into erotic energy. I'm not quite ready yet to make up multiple stories in a row about how I accidentally shrink and swallow someone while the caller remains silent, withholding his responses while I spin tales into a feedback-less abyss. I'm not quite ready yet to hang up on someone for violating the terms of service, my personal limits, and my overall interest in interacting with humanity by blurting out, "And then I bring in a horse to fuck you, and you're all tied up, so you can't stop me!"

I just... can't quite get there yet.

(Thankfully, the day the horse call actually happened, I was in a great mood - I laughed out loud and hung up, then mocked the caller to my husband. The phrase "And then you fuck a horse!" said with a raspy, nasally East Coast voice, is still a common source of laughter in our home.)

(FYI: In general, I don't resent people who have fantasies about taboo subjects, but I need those to be respectfully negotiated to ensure I am on board. If I am not on board, the caller needs to find someone else who is. Taboo subjects sprung on me mid-fantasy, clearly hoping for a shocked response, deserve a good *hahahaha*click*.)

(Also, for the record, being non-consensually tied up and violated by a horse is not a fantasy I am willing to participate in. My apologies and regrets to all you nice guys stuck with unpleasant fantasies you would rather not have. I wish you luck in your search, I do, and sometimes I can be a taboo girl, and some taboos I genuinely love, but not that particular one.)

Okay, so I'm not quite ready to take on The Whole Big Bad Crazy World quite yet. That's understandable, right? Yes. Yes, it it is. It's understandable. My Inner Therapist can deliver that message with a lot of sincerity: It is absolutely understandable to be not quite ready to take on The Whole Big Bad Crazy World.

You know what I think I need to get my head back in the game? Appointments with callers I know and love.

Well. That was simple. Why exactly did it take me all this time to reach that conclusion? No idea. It seems so blatantly obvious now. Share a few luscious orgasms with people I trust -- easy!

So if you've been waiting on me to return, please email me. And please include a few date/times that you would like to talk, and what you'd like to talk about, and I'll make a time for us to hang out. I won't even require a 30-minute minimum to make an appointment - let's say for the next 2 weeks. Other than my chiropractor, and other people taking me up on this offer, I have no time commitments.

Also, if we have never spoken yet, but you've been looking for me, drop me an email describing what you want to talk about - it would be fantastic to have a Fun New Caller Boost if we share things in the center of my Lust Landscape, like... ummm... You guiding my masturbation. Or you describing what you'd like to do to me to make me come. Or you begging to be allowed to climax while I masturbate and tell you keep holding on.

Well, now, all of a sudden, I'm short of breath and wondering where my fresh batteries are. That is lovely indeed.

I'm sure after a dozen or so calls, I'll wonder what the hell my problem was, and fall back into a routine of availability again. I look forward to it, in fact. Very much. I don't like feeling vaguely afraid. It doesn't suit me. I'm more of a Grab Life By The Horns and Don't Let the Crazy People Get You Down kind of a gal. I look forward to being so again very soon.

The Hand Orgy

Tied and Peaceful

January 23 kicked off the Chinese New Year of the Dragon. I ran across this handy explanation:

"Exciting, unpredictable, exhilarating and intense, according to the Chinese tradition, these are the characteristics of the Year of the Dragon. Be warned, following the Rabbit's year of cautious optimism, the Dragon is renowned for its unbridled enthusiasm and has been known to throw caution to the wind! Now's the time to make this your Year of Adventure!"

Well, thank you - I think I will!

Warning: the next picture is even more Not-Safe-For-Work (NSFW) than the first picture. I'm giving you space to look away, although I sincerely hope you don't, because it's good for me when you have sexy images of me stuck in your head.

I realized at our New Year's Eve party that I had to make a choice because of my vertigo: either I could process or deliver pain (flogger, spanking, paddle, crop, etc - they take as much concentration to wield as to receive), or I could stay at the party and be social, but I couldn't do both. Being in crowds makes me very dizzy, taking someone else into pain subspace and back makes me very dizzy, and going into pain subspace and back makes me very dizzy, so I have to choose only one of those things in any given 3-day period.

I'm not gonna lie: that sucks. It's emotionally difficult to be at a party where there are luscious floggers, and people with years of experience throwing them who are perfectly willing to fly me, and other people happy to watch that happen. It is seriously hard to turn that down. It's worth it to be at the party as an observer, building friendships by having happy kinky flirty time, but it's a helluva reminder of my limitations.

So somewhere in this insane blur of a month, we went to a BDSM party where people were playing with painful sensations and impact (several at the hand of my husband, who is as surprised and delighted and turned on as I am that he seems to be kinda in-demand at these types of parties). And although I love watching, I got antsy to participate without triggering my vertigo.

Thankfully for me, a gentleman was there with hundreds of feet of rope and many hours of bondage experience, and he was willing to tie me up with no expectation for hurting me or being sexy after being tied. My husband helped me think of all my caveats: no ties across my neck in case I couldn't differentiate blood loss to my head from dizziness, no standing with my feet bound together because my balance isn't good enough to maintain that, and, as with any bondage, the person tying me had to stay close by as long as I was bound in case I needed a quick release.

I stood first for a rope corset with my hands behind my back, but my legs free, enjoying the pulls and tugs, and relaxing into the feeling of my arms stretched a little behind me. I enjoyed leaning against him as he drew the rope across my flesh time and time again. Then we found a sitting position I could maintain comfortably, and he did an asymmetrical bind to keep me in that position.

And the most beautiful thing happened slowly: I relaxed into a sexy blur, a kind of a sub space, I think, of enjoying the exhibitionism (I was only wearing panties), and enjoying the feeling of increasing restriction (I've always loved bondage, but never done it as an end unto itself without combining it with other sensation play). When he was done and I was testing my bonds and figuring out if I could move (I kinda could scoot on my knees, but it was quite un-graceful), it was fun and floaty and sexy and relaxing without being stressful.

Is it weird that I relax when I'm tied up? Isn't that the point, to let yourself feel a little helpless? Well, it can be the point, I guess. That night, it was the point for me.

Then my husband finished up with the spankings he was delivering to Devant upstairs and they both came down, along with the crowd who had been watching (and "helping" her count, although I hear there was mischief involved around the number 13...).

When he knelt behind me and whispered in my ear how beautiful I looked, suddenly an old desire came back to me, something we've talked about for years, but never had the right space to make it happen: for as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be naked and bound in the middle of a group of people and have them run their hands over me, lovingly, gently, playfully, without causing any pain, just caressing.

All of a sudden, it dawned on both my husband and I at the same time that this was the perfect time to fulfill that fantasy.

And so it was.

Happily, sensually overwhelmed

My husband briefly explained to the people in the room what I wanted and asked for help, and I felt a gentle surge of warm bodies nestling in around me: my husband, Devant, another woman who has played with my husband, the woman who gave us our welcome and invitations to our first play party, the man who had just bound me, and his lover.

Intellectually, I understand that they probably watched my husband and followed his lead, but at the moment, it felt like the world stood still, and everyone magically understood exactly what I needed.

I was overwhelmed. I felt relief to have found something so sexy and so sensual that didn't immediately spin me into extreme dizziness. I felt gratitude for the friends we have made in such a short time with our new community of kinksters. I felt the release of literally years of holding onto this fantasy and having it fulfilled while feeling so safe and beautiful and treasured.

For one magical moment, it felt like I had been transported to a place where the hands of everyone who has ever loved me were caressing me, all at once. The room expanded into the past and the future, the hands multiplied, and I knew all the love of my whole life all at once.

I think I squeaked out something like, "I'm gonna cry if that's okay" and then proceeded to do exactly that while the hands continued, and voices murmured encouragement from every direction.

The quick-thinking person who captured the moment on my phone camera has been profusely thanked.

What has since come to be known as "The Hand Orgy" probably only lasted five minutes, just long enough for the wave of emotion to break over me and subside. Once I returned to only one point on the space-time continuum, I opened my eyes, found my words again, and I was ready to be unbound and rejoin the party.

The after effects, interestingly enough, were the same as returning from subspace after impact play: first I wanted to be still and with cuddly arms wrapped around me, then I needed to drink and snack, and then I was very happy and feeling social.

People who had seen the hand orgy, but had not participated (they came in the room after it had started and were uncertain if they were welcome to join), were very sweet, telling me how beautiful it was. And the hosts thanked me for gracing their home with such a lovely moment. Awwww /sniffle

So if sometime in the past couple of weeks, you happened to dream of running your hands over my body while I leaned into you and whispered, "thank you" through happy tears, now you know why.

Thank you for being there with me in spirit.

Kiwi Candy, the Crossover

The Hollywood-gorgeous Kiwi Candy and I were chatting today about callers we've shared in the nine months since she has skyrocketed to NiteFlirt fame. Background: she found my blog when she was first starting out, and at first I mentored her a bit, but we became friends as she kicked my ass in the ratings, and now I ask her advice as often as she does with me.

It's easy to bond in that vulnerable time of night that is made for fucking, that 10pm-2am window when both our defenses are a little lower and our minds are both set in sexy mode. We often keep each other company between calls.

She's as genuine as I am: she really loves phone sex, she really wants to please her callers, and she really is that adorable. But more important to me than her beauty and cuteness, she has the thing I require in my truest of friends: she genuinely cares about doing the right thing. Hell, if you generalize further, it's still true: she genuinely cares. She gives a shit. She's good people. I feel fortunate to know her.

Candy and I have never met in person, although I'm certain we will some day. (You'll get videos of us doing naughty things with each other if you fly me to her! Not kidding!) But we recommend each other a lot on our blogs and on our calls, which has led to us having 15 or 20 callers in common.

So today, we were talking about some of the Candy+Galiana fantasies our callers have played out with us, and we decided to do crossover blog posts about them. Because we're both giant dorks who amuse ourselves a lot. And this sounded fun, so we're doing it.

The Maid: He and I are married, and Candy is our maid, who probably never actually cleans anything other than my pussy with her tongue, while I'm guiding her head with my hands, and he's fucking her from behind. Oh, and my juices off his cock after he fucks me while Candy and I 69 with me on top. But not so much with the *dusting*, really.

Fembot Assembly: The Candy-bot makes a superb to help assemble a brand new Galiana-bot to test her pleasure thresholds. How does one test a new Galiana-bot? Have the Candy-bot lick and finger it when she is being fucked from behind, of course! Gosh. All the good technicians know that.

The Fembot Cat Fight: The handy thing about androids is that you can always wipe their memories and repair them, and they're as good as new! So, y'know, if the Candy-droid and Galiana-droid had their jealousy levels increased, we could rip each other to pieces... literally. It's obvious her chest panel is more delicate than mine, it's not my fault she can't function without this handful of wires. Oh, well, maybe it is. Oops. But what do I care? That'll keep her away from my man!

The Struggling Submissive: Since she admitted she's capable of having an orgasm without touching her pussy if the mental / visual stimulus is strong enough (as am I), he could tie her into an X and make her watch while he fucks me, and she can be released when she comes that way ... maybe twice ... if he's feeling generous ...

The Two-Girl Blowjob: The guy with the 11" cock (seriously, we've both seen him on cam, and he's not exaggerating) wants us both to slide our tongues and lips over him. Good, because I'm not sure either of us could take care of that thing on our own!

The Exhibitionists: Two different callers want to masturbate in front of us, as we're watching them, and possibly playing with each other, but the important part is that we're both watching him masturbate. We both honestly, genuinely love watching men stroke themselves, and we feel like we learn new techniques. We both especially like watching that guy in California with the full beard who does that overhand squeeze thing ...

The Strap-On: He wants to feel her pounding me with a strap-on because it shoves his cock deeper into my throat. Or me pounding him with a strap-on while he has his lips wrapped around her clit. Or one of us fucking him while he's fucking the other one. Or...

Oh good grief almighty, now I can't think straight. Surely someone has plane fare to spare, don't you? Pretty please?