Lover Experience

In the midst of sorting through my pictures from September's photo shoot, I found one that I hadn't focused on before, but now it's my current favorite picture of myself:

First of all, that babydoll has a bra strap around back, so dang, my boobs look amazingly perky for DDs (did I mention that I got fitted for a bra and found out that I'm a DD, not a D like I thought? Crazy.)

Then the soft purple fabric, with the soft scarf-looking headband, and the flowing gypsy-ish earrings, and my flowing gypsy-ish wavy hair ... all together, it's a soft look physically.

But the real attraction for me is my expression: I look as if I am enjoying the company of whoever I am looking at, as if I am open to them, kind, relaxed, and happy.

I've been thinking lately about the term "Girlfriend Experience" (GFE), and whether or not it fits me. As a married, openly non-monogamous woman, I don't consider myself to be in the market for a boyfriend, which, to me, connotates someone that I'm considering as a potential life partner. A boyfriend/life partner has to share chores, help me when I need heavy stuff moved, and listen to me kvetch when I'm moody... the daily things of life.

I care if my boyfriend/life partner can consistently reinforce training with my dogs, how he behaves towards customer service people in public, whether or not he likes hosting parties, if he likes to travel, and what he chooses to do with his money. Details. Encumbrances. And in many cases, hassles. My husband has to be a good fit for all that crap, poor guy, and that's what I would need from someone to call him my boyfriend, too.

But a lover... well, that's different, isn't it?

I had a conversation with my current lover (also married and openly non-monogamous) when we starting about what we wanted to be for each other. We came up with the concept of an amusement park: lots of fun choices of activities, plenty of delightful options to explore, and no trace of the concerns of daily life. We are an escape for each other. I protect my ability to feel sexy when I'm with him by (mostly) shielding him from my unsexy anxieties about logistics and uncertainties and insecurities and disappointments. When I'm with him, we're just fun and good and happy and sexy together. And it feeds both of us.

So what I think I want on the phones with callers is not a girlfriend experience where you would have to help me with all the annoying hassles of life.

I want a lover experience.

I want to be an escape from your daily grind. A new setting. A different mood. A space in which you are free to be any version of yourself you wish to be, and free to discover which version of me responds to you in that way. Permission to luxuriate in your desires and focus on the pounding of your heart when you touch my skin and hear me sigh.

I once had a crazy-luxurious massage combined with a moisturizing salt scrub, washed off by four overhead shower heads, and followed by heavenly-smelling lotion. I got to shed dead skin, release muscle tension, and replace stress and dullness with relaxation and health.

I want to be that: the sexual equivalent of a day-spa-salt-scrub-massage-shower for those who call me.

So why did I combine that picture with this discussion about offering a lover experience? Because that picture, to me, looks like how I feel as a lover. Calm, relaxed, kind, open, confident, attentive, enjoying your company, and fully aware that you're probably missing all of that because you're distracted by my boobs.

/grin

It's totally okay. They're awesome.

So kick off your shoes, lover. Come on in. Let's play.

Help Me Help You

Not to be too terribly immodest, but ... I do some parts of my job pretty well. I take decent notes. I'm honest about everything that doesn't invade my privacy. And I think I have a readable, entertaining blog that answers a few common questions, and gives people a way to keep connected even if they can't call me.

However, I am not good at reading minds.

I mean, I'm pretty good with taking hints and pushing past those into the next logical step. But if you tell me you just want to hear me get off, I will not intuitively guess that you like to wear women's silky panties and be fucked with my strap-on. If you tell me you want to masturbate with me in charge, I will not immediately intuit that you want me to take you to a glory hole to kneel on a dirty floor and suck a big black cock.

The possibilities are too endless. It may seem obvious in your head what is enticing and sexually charged, but chances are good that on the day you call, one person wanted to face fuck me and someone else wanted to be teased until they begged to come.

And about ass play: many guys are turned off by the thought of playing with asses - their own, or anyone else's. It is clearly in my best interest not to turn off my callers, so I tend to not bring it up. But if you have butt plugs and buzzy toys and dildos prepped and you're hoping to use them, or dying to rim me, I'm up for that. I'm just unlikely to propose it unless I know that's what you want.

You may wonder if your fantasy is over my limits. It might be. But it is the wrong approach to try to ease into it by suggesting things that inch towards your goal. That's just being manipulative. Instead, tell me what you want, and if I'm not willing to meet you there, I'm absolutely willing to talk openly about what else we may have in common.

(Well, okay, except for the guy who wanted to be forced to smoke crack and super-glue shut the opening of his penis while having diarrhea... That one was too many incompatibilities at once to bother starting up the conversation. Yes, that was an actual request. Thankfully, those types of extremely incompatible requests happen less than 1% of the time. I don't let bad eggs worry me. Oh, and speaking of eggs... no, no, no, never mind, you don't want to know.)

As long as we're talking about the potentially awkward, let's just hit it all, shall we? Budget. Let's not make this difficult. If you only have 10 minutes, tell me, and I can push you harder faster deeper, and enjoy it. If you want to stretch it out and spend the better part of an afternoon coming three times over a couple of hours, by all means, let me know. And if I'm so bold as to ask how long we have, don't be embarrassed to tell me. Honesty only helps both of us.

I unconsciously make dozens of tiny choices on the fly with every conversation: pace, volume, pitch, breathing, level of dirty talk, emotional intensity, my intellectual abilities, and how quickly I climax (a blessing of control for which I am forever grateful). Any of those can be adjusted at any time if something isn't working, as long as I'm aware that a change that needs to be made.

You won't hurt my feelings. You'll just make it more fun.

So please, tell me what you want.

You Like What You Like

As a human being, you have preferences. You might not mean to, you might not choose to, but you do. You have a favorite weather pattern, textures you love, foods you enjoy more than others, and scents you despise.

There may be rational, memory-based reasons for some of those things (leaving outdoors where you were playing in the leaves on a crisp cool fall day to come into a kitchen that smells like chocolate-chip cookies...), but ultimately, it does no good to search for rational explanations of why we prefer one thing over another, we just do. 

And yet, when it comes to sex, people seem to judge what they want, instead of just accepting it as a part of them. I bet your kink is probably no more explicable, and probably no more based on your moral choices, than your preference in ice cream flavors. 

How you ACT on your sexual urges? Those are your moral choices. But which urges you HAVE to start with? I think those are just your body, having physical urges, like it does. 

I've had a few callers confessing to me what they crave, in hushed, stammering speech. I interrupted fast with my caveats: I'm the wrong girl to tell if you're going to confess anything illegal, or anything that would require medical intervention to recover from. Thankfully, my confessors have been within my comfort bounds. 

One found a used condom, and knew who had used it, and it was HUGE and full of semen, and he can't stop thinking about it. One wants to be stripped of his gender identity. One wanted to allow someone else to utterly control him. One wants to be blackmailed with video of him in drag. If they were faking the hesitant confessions, they were all very good at it. 

I told all of them: try not to judge yourself. Try not to judge what you want. You can't choose what you want, but you can choose how you act. What you want doesn't hurt anyone else, so don't beat up on yourself for wanting it.  

(FYI: I would feel much differently if the impulses were for self-destructive or nonconsensually harmful acts - those need help, but these were all just fantasies about power and sex)

So, if you're wondering if you're broken, or a freak, or if you're fascinated by something and need to get it off your chest, call me. I'd love to hear it!