Dating Kinky
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This writing is now available as a podcast episode!


A conversation I had this morning.

The genius (not his real name)

Has anyone mentioned…
…you’re ducking awesome?

Me

Quack!

The genius

What’s new?

Me

Nothing, really. Just loving life, working a lot, playing hard._?Nothing, really. Just loving life, working a lot, playing hard.

I do highly recommend Roberto

The genius

Roberto and I are already know each other, intimately.

I’ve made him what he is, and then really enjoyed him being inside me.

Deep inside, come to think of it.

Me

Sounds like Roberto gets around.

The genius

When he’s hot, he’s hot.

He was here just a a week ago. I’ve lost track how many times.

Me

Pet is having an ongoing assignation during his lunch breaks.

The genius

Nice – does he swallow like I do?

Me

Uh huh. Enthusiastically.

The genius

Hot. Literally.

Me

Feels so right going down my gullet.

Roberto gives me so much oral pleasure. Beyond compare.

The genius

I’ve enjoyed Roberto on my tongue, of course. But beyond compare seems like more of a stretch goal.

Meet Roberto: The Many Lives of Roberto

*grins*

Image by StockSnap from Pixabay

This writing is now available as a podcast episode!


I said a few days ago in a writing, “Your experience is pretty much what you make of it, when it comes to women.”

Let me clarify. I said what I said because I was replying to a man specifically speaking to the women’s experience on Tinder. Otherwise, I would be far more likely to say:

“Your experience is pretty much what you make of it, when it comes to people.”

And I believe this, because over a decade ago, I was incredibly lonely, had few friends, had recently left an emotionally abusive relationship with a mentally unstable addict, and decided to change myself, in the hopes it would change my world.

I did.

And it did.

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He texted:

“Please send me some photos of you and some of us for me to share with my mother.”

He added:

“No strap ons.”

LOLOLOLOLOLOL!

I can just see it. “And here we are in Madrid. She sent me one this while I was camping a few weekends ago. And this, oh! This is my girlfriend’s dick, Mom. Isn’t she a peach?”

I love my life.

It’s funny. I’ve never really thought of myself as competitive.

More cooperative.

Except that Saturday night, as I was teaching my Alpha Submissive class at The Academy in Georgetown, SC, I said in front of a hefty group of people that I am competitive.

And I realized I meant it.

Deeply.

Primally.

And I’ve been thinking about this, because I am also cooperative. Very. I’ll help anyone with anything, pretty much. I like to build people higher, and see them grow and flourish.

So, how does this all fit?

com·pet·i·tive

/kəmˈpedədiv/
adjective

  1. relating to or characterized by competition.
    a. having or displaying a strong desire to be more successful than others.
  2. as good as or better than others of a comparable nature.

This helps, definitions 1a and 2, specifically. I don’t really see myself in competition with anyone (because really, I’m not a zero-sum thinker), but I find my desires to be the best in certain areas to be quite powerful.

Sexy, even.

Like being the best sex my Pet has ever had. But not just sex, but to be the one who has made him feel the most loved ever.

I don’t think this is a natural thing.

In fact, it’s quite contrived.

I don’t usually care much about others, except when I do. And it’s not so much the “others” with Pet that I care about, but that I fulfill him more than he ever thought possible.

And so I compete not so much with them, but with his experiences of them.

And I’m fiercely competitive in those areas.

I don’t ever want to lose.