A Twat on Twitter

So, in an effort to confront various demons, exorcise same, run screaming through inhibitions, and also to try to get back to the writing thing, I'm on Twitter. @lexploits if you should happen to be inclined.

The demons are really what my doctor says I have to start doing. I have to be able to feel like a sexual being even if I can't get excited.  Because there will come a day when the latter will no longer be true, and if I'm super out of practice, I won't be able to enjoy the former without let or hindrance.

So I'm twatting. Or twitting.  Or whatever the fuck I want to call it because I'm sure as hell not calling it "tweeting" because that sounds like I'm some kind of fucking bird.

I can't do personal stuff. Revs the ol' motor entirely too much.  But I hope, with time, I might be able to participate in FFF again, maybe. That was good for my writing muscles, not just my lust muscles. I'm at a bit of a loose end, wages-wise, and writing is something I could see doing for some scratch, so since I've been told I write a decent erotic excursion, I might explore those options a bit.  If anyone has any advice on that score, particularly now that the major markets seem to have dried up what with Amazon cracking down on anything that would seem out of place in a Harlequin romance, I'm open to it.

But yeah, Twitter isn't replacing, just supplementing. I couldn't limit myself to just 140 characters all the time.  Don't worry.

Sadly, I also must warn you that I'll be doing what I said, which will involve psychology and probably be less sexy in parts (plus I have no idea what the Twitter TOC are) so yeah, there's that too. You don't even have to leave to check it out: there's a widget over on the right which should let you keep up if you're not on Twitter.

Long Overdue

Okay, so first of all, I'm alive.  And I sorry.  Shit got real and then I couldn't handle it.  I have fun mental health issues which have nothing to do with anything except sudden inability to handle anything, which is why I didn't even bother to say goodbye.  As for why I would have had to say it were I mentally stable...

Thing is, first life got crazy and then crazier, and then... well, batten down the hatches. If you're the type who is squeamish about medical conditions, particularly involving lady parts (guys, we didn't make our vaginas complicated to fuck with your brains; if it were up to me we'd all have simple and foolproof genitals and fucking would be recreational for everyone). you may want to skip the rest.  I'm okay. I'm alive. I'm not back to blogging at the moment.

Turns out that the reason Sheri can't carry a baby to term(my sisters, for those who are newer to the party) is because she has a congenital problem with her ovaries and uterus. Turns out that lady-parts doctors aren't all rocket scientists or even particularly compassionate or caring. She only found this out recently because she switched doctors and her new doc actually took the time to ask her some questions about her conception/miscarriage woes. Yeah, I know, what a strange idea, right?

They did tests, lots of tests, before figuring out what might or might not be wrong, and what they seem to feel now is congenital defects in the uterus.  Before you jump to conclusions, no, this has nothing to do with too shallow a gene pool; my parents aren't related, to the best of anyone's knowledge.  It's a birth defect which can happen to anyone. Foreshadowing.

Sheri was crushed.  There's not much they can do; it doesn't threaten her health but it means getting pregnant is not likely and won't end happily in any case.  Which would explain why she's bare-backed it so many times and suffered no ill consequences. But once she found out, she practically forced Mari (my other sister, again for those who came in late) and me to get tests done.

Mari is fine. Her uterus is pretty as a picture, prettier even because it's just one pretty end of a pretty system on the whole.  She's not sure about kids, but if she ever wanted to have them, they say her chances of carrying to term are excellent.

Which brings us to little old me.

About 2 months before Sheri contacted me about her diagnosis, I had started getting achy really, really easily when having sex.  At first I thought it was just the roughness, deep penetration, what have you, but they happened even when I was being gentle as a lamb and merely petting myself (again, as a lamb).  When they first started I had had a rather exciting day, so I thought maybe I was just bruised.  I'm not as young as I used to be.

But by the time Sheri convinced me to hit a doctor, I was getting achy any time I got even the slightest bit excited, carnally-wise. In other words, my pelvis hurt when I was horny.  And the more aroused I got, the worse the hurt got, to the point where I was basically serving as a living sex doll for any sex partners I had, trying not to get close while trying to get them off.  I had obligations.  I wasn't about to let a little pain stop me.

Fast forward to now.  I'm not blogging because I have something wrong with my insides, likely my ovaries but they're not sure.  It's likely not related to Sheri's issue; it came on quite suddenly and probably isn't congenital.  But it means that arousal equals pain.  Not just penetration, not just actively seeking orgasm, but any sort of arousal.

Which is hell.

I'm not telling this sob story to feel sorry for myself or to get anyone else to feel sorry for me.  I just want everyone to know that I would be cheerfully blogging again except for the fact that even thinking about sex is mildly unpleasant right now.  I'm caught in a Catch-22: arousal hurts (it's not even the sex act that does it) but if I don't get off I get incredibly horny which also hurts, so I have to try to find ways to get off with as little arousal as possible and as infrequently as I can stand, which would be fine except that orgasms hurt like a motherfucker, which means that everything is a giant cluster and there's no fuck involved.

So looking at porn, reading stories, remembering stories, writing stories... it's all really not fun right now.  And if it were just a little suffering, I'd be okay with it, but I don't think I could write quality in my current state.  Even writing this is getting me antsy because of association.

There is hope that they'll be able to do something about it, but it might involve removing various parts of me which make babies happen, and until I'm convinced that that's the only way or they tell me that I wouldn't be able to get pregnant anyway (which is a possibility but hasn't been confirmed) I'm not going down that road.  I'm trying to stay positive.

Again, not a sob story to make you feel sorry for me.  I've found that my favorite thing is just to lube up gently and then have a cock inside me without any thrusting; it feels like sex but it doesn't hurt anywhere near as much (although thinking about it aches a little).  And I've not completely stopped having sex either; sometimes I put up with the pain and scream a little when the O hits.  The pain isn't crippling, it's just not sexy.

So don't feel sorry for me; I'm sorry I can't share with you right now.  As soon as that changes, I'll try to be better about posting.

I love you all.  If you have questions or comments, you can send them my way in whatever way you like.  In lieu of any sympathy for me, get-well-soon cars, etc. I ask that you please find someone you love and make them happy in my honor.  Or make yourself happy in whatever way you see fit.  Love to you all, and I'll see you on the other side of this, because I'm not going without good sex for the rest of my life, even if it means I have to pull every reproductive organ I have out and have nothing but anal, or have them install a new pussy in my abdomen, or something.  I have not yet begun to fight!

Sex is Nice

To those who’ve asked, Sveta and I are geographically coexisting, but temporally is another matter.  She works, I work, and we don’t currently share any days off, which means less time together.  Which sucks.

But when we do get together, it’s pretty epic.  Last night, even though we both had to wake up for work the next day, I spent an hour slowly working larger and larger things into her ass.  She’s getting to be a pro at taking things in her asshole. and I love, love, love to watch her squirm as that puckered rosebud slowly accepts something which looks like it should split her in two.  With some mad money, we went out a few weeks ago and got a plug which  is almost the size of my fist at its widest point.  The thing about it is that it doesn’t have much taper; it starts small, gets big pretty quickly, and then only has a very small bump at the bottom above the base.

You can’t just jump right in, of course.  I do a lot of anal massaging, and we’ve found that I can get her off almost without touching anything but her ass.  The plug is clear glass too, so I can see up inside her, which never turned me on that much before but really does now.

And I’ve been getting some jollies too.  I had a fling with a guy I met at a party, a one-night thing but what a night it was.  He was rough, which I hadn’t realized I needed, but when he started fucking my throat and then stopped and apologized, I just jammed my head back down on his cock and he took the hint.  I was a little bruised when it was said and done.  No anal, but while he didn’t have incredible stamina, he made up for it with lots of excellent fore- and after-play, as well as being up for it four times in a row over the course of a few hours.  Never knew his last name, will never see him again, and I was fine with that.

Other than that, I have no time still, and I don’t know when or if that will change.  Had a few moments and I’m really horny, so I thought I’d share.  Unlimited love to you all.

TMI Not Tuesday

1. I could spend all day _fucking_ but couldn’t stand five minutes _watching NASCAR_ .

Yeah, okay, so that’s a bit of a non-sequitor.  I really don’t get car racing though. If that makes me an ivory-tower-elite, I guess that’s what I am.

2. I would love to have a robot in my house to do _pretty much everything domestic_ because no one else ever does.

I hate housework.

3. The older you get the more _tired_ you get.

Tell me it’s not true. Okay, it’s probably not for lucky people.

4. I want to _have wild sex_ when I _see my sweetie_ .

Which isn’t anywhere near often enough these days.

5. My appetite for _sex_ can never be satisfied.

Yeah, did you really think I wasn’t going to say this? I can live with less than I want, but I want more than I could ever have so that’s a good thing.

Bonus: If I were a hoarder, I would hoard _pornography_ .

Except I am and I do.

No Time

I love you all, I really do.  I just wish I had more time.  I'm alive.  I'm just...  Have you ever had things go right just so they can go wrong worse than they were before?  That's about where I am right now.  Terrified of the other shoe dropping.  I wish I could escape to blog-land, tell a few fun, sexy stories, get myself into a tither.  But I can't.  No time.

TMI Saturday

1. If your lover was turned on by forced feminization would you participate (giving or receiving)?
*forced feminization is the practice of enforcing activities on a male, which are typically associated with women, to make him submissive. For example: wearing lingerie, heels, make-up.

I might try it out, but I’m not really a dom by nature, nor am I that into men in women’s clothing.  As with many things I’ve never done (not that I’ve never done that many things) it would depend on who was asking and how they asked.

2. When you have sexual dreams or fantasies that are aggressive or cruel, does it worry you?

Aggressive, no.  Cruel, a bit.  I have some dark parts of my psyche which worry me.

3. Tell us your hottest filthiest fantasy, right now, in 100 words or less. This is the fantasy about your desires that you probably never share, maybe they even go against your morals, or are social taboos.

To be tied up in a vulnerable position and made use of by random people however they wanted.  Maybe a few rules, but pretty much open season on Lexi.  The bondage isn’t really necessary, but there’s a part of me that would just like to be used right now.  Toilet play definitely involved.  What can I say?  I’m feeling kinky.

4. Which super hero would you like to have sex with? Why?

1. Aquaman
2. Superman
3. Wonder Woman
4. She-Ra

Either of the two women, although I could see the up-side to Aquaman as well.  Superman seems like a dick, frankly, and not in a good way.

5. Knowing there’s a hot young couple in the adjoining hotel room, would you press your ear against the wall to hear the action on the other side?

Good lord yes.  I don’t mind if someone listens to me either.

6. Do you think the lure to live out sexual fantasies or have sex frequently is amplified by technology? Briefly explain.

I think technology makes it easier to think our abnormalities are okay (not that they aren’t), to find people of a similar mindset, and definitely to get pornographic materials.  Other than that, I don’t know, and I’m not sure if any of the above are good or bad things.

Bonus: Describe your fantasy life in three (3) words.

Fantasy, fantasy, fantasy.  I’m trying more and more to keep a separation.  There’s no point in living in fantasies, not when there are many things in the real world which are wonderful.  But by the same token, fantasy is important too.  If I fantasize about someone other than Sveta, that doesn’t mean I love her any less.  It’s fantasy.  It’s healthy.  But it shouldn’t affect my real life.

Collections

ps asked me a question a while back, and I never got around to answering, and now it inspired this post.  I won’t be specifically answering his question, but he deserves attribution for the impulse.

I believe I mentioned a while back that I'm a bit of a hoarder, but in the digital realm mostly. I have to have series in their entirety. Even if I didn't like the last season of a TV show, I might buy the whole package so I can have it all. And I collect data. I have hundreds of books that I probably won't ever get the chance to read.  I have a lot of eBooks even though I don’t really like eBooks.  I have PDFs by the zillion.  And I have a lot of porn.  A lot.

My biggest porn collection is images. I just enjoy collecting them, like one might collect stamps or coins or postcards.  I think I may enjoy collecting them more than I enjoy looking at them.  It may spring from a time when I was in a situation where I didn’t have much internet access, so I had to hoard for the lean times.  Or maybe it’s just my OCD.  Yes, collecting is a form of OCD.

I don't collect videos as much, although I do collect links to them. And I can look at porn more than once. Maybe not repeatedly for a long period, but if I look at it, enjoy it, save it, and then come back to it later, I can enjoy it again.  My video collection is more of a functional thing; I will probably look at most of the links I collect eventually (although I’m always collecting more).

Basically, I have hang-ups.  Who doesn’t?

I used to go for hardcore porn in images, but lately I’ve been more interested in the kind of thing that you might see in FFF, or maybe just nude women.  I also like amateur stuff, the stuff that maybe isn’t much good, but somehow because it’s amateur it’s more “real” to me and so I enjoy it more.  My hardcore cravings I get out with videos.

And did I mention that I’ve started using Picasa to tag my picture collection.  Because secretly I want to be a librarian.

So yes, I have gigs and gigs of images that I’m probably never going to look at again.  And yes, that’s probably not healthy, per se.  But at least they’re not physical objects, and I’ve occasionally done a “Fuck it, I’m deleting everything!” purge.  I tossed a lot of stuff that I thought might get me into trouble at a certain point.  And there’s a part of me that hates that I get rid of things.  But what are you going to do?  Spring cleaning, that’s what it is.  Healthy, I guess.

Anyway, that’s my collection of words about collections.