relationships « Heartbreak Nymphomania

27Jul/103

A Plea for Help

I'm in a bit of a pickle.

I don't like having to whine and beg for money, help... anything, really. Especially on a blog where people come here to enjoy my writing. However, I've gotten to the point where I'm willing to try anything, so I'm pulling out all the stops.

If you follow me on Twitter, you've probably read me whining about my current visa/job situation. To summarize: I'm a UK citizen, and have been living in the US for four years, as I was attending college here on a student visa. I just graduated from said college, and I'm currently completing an internship that lasts until the beginning of September. Basically, I need to get a "real" job by then. "Real" as in non-temporary, and requiring higher education, i.e. nothing menial like being a dishwasher or waitress, though I'd be perfectly willing to do something like that to get by, if I were allowed to. I also need to get hired by a company that's willing to shell out a couple of thousand dollars to sponsor my work visa. If I get a job, hence the visa, after October 2010, the visa doesn't go into effect until Oct 2011. Which means I'll be forced to leave the country for a year. (Although, my current visa, which is student-work-experience, is good until December, provided I'm interning or volunteering somewhere.)

I probably don't need to state that, because of all this, I'm under quite a large amount of pressure.

In many ways, I feel like the US is my home now. My friends are here. I believe that there is more freedom here, compared to my hometown (Hong Kong), for me to do what I want to do, i.e. pursue artistic expression and find communities to support me in that, to be queer and sex-positive and kinky and involved in causes that are important to me... Hell, a few weeks in New York resulted in more new acquaintances and social opportunities than months in Hong Kong. And the clincher: I'd have to be away from L for a year, and we'd only be able to see each other after months at a time, if that. Being forced to leave all the other stuff? That would be upsetting and saddening, but having to leave L would be... gut-wrenching.

So what I'm asking is for... anything you might have that would help. If you know of any resources regarding companies that often hire internationals, or any companies that are hiring in general, or any words of advice on how I could deal with this... If you need to know more: my background is in English, publications & writing, and clearly I have some knowledge of web-stuff. I'd prefer to be in Communications and to stay in the North East, but really don't care what field I end up in or what area I end up in at this point.

Thank you all so much.

Filed under: Friends & Lovers, L, life, reflections, relationships 3 Comments

12Jul/100

Make me a Match

Wil: [sticks a $2.99 price tag from a purchased energy drink on L's shirt] There, now you're $2.99.

L: So I'm a cheap slut?

Wil: You're my cheap slut!

L: [laughs] I'd totally put that on a T-shirt and wear it. "Wilhelmina's cheap slut."

Wil: Next time we're at Zeta Mu I should just write it on your chest and you can walk around shirtless.

Later...

L: What do you want for dinner?

Wil: I'm fine with leftovers. Since I'm, you know, a classless ho and stuff.

L: [laughs] I love that you just said that. Hey, you should put that on a shirt. Then we can match!

---

...yeah, I like to think of us as a subversive version of that disgustingly cute couple you wish wasn't in your line of sight on the subway.

Filed under: L, Uncategorized, life, relationships No Comments

25Jun/102

life update: june 10 (mini-hiatus)

[via hckyso]

Yeah, I kind of disappeared the last three weeks or so, pretty conspicuously. Quite a bit has been going on in my life lately, to say the least, and I don't think I'll be blogging or writing reviews until things have settled down a bit:

- I just officially graduated two weeks ago! As opposed to being done with classes/requirements, but not having "walked" or received my diploma. My mother came up to visit me. It was her first time in the US or at my college. It was very interesting, and went better than I anticipated. The ceremony was... bemusing, and kind of boring, but I guess I feel glad that I experienced it.

- I moved to New York City soon after. I got a paid summer internship, and luckily one of Girl's roommates was moving out, so I moved in with her. I'm hoping to find a more permanent job so I can stay in the US / in New York longer than just the summer.

- I'm currently visiting my friends the Emperor & the Wanderer in Chicago, which has been lovely but also a little charged. I hadn't seen them in more than a year.

- About a month ago, at Zeta Mu, I met a guy who I will refer to as L. I can honestly say it was like at first sight, as unlikely and cheesy as that sounds. I had abandoned hope of anything happening between us because he was kind of seeing someone else at the time, but after we had hung out quite a bit, he decided to stop seeing her in favor of trying to pursue something with me. I had toyed with the idea of trying to "compete" for him, but ditched the idea pretty quickly, and was fully ready to just be friends. I'm happy that I did that, because now I know that he chose to do what he did because he wanted to and not because I indirectly pressured him into it. It was a difficult and sucky situation for him to have to break things off with her, and I... feel a little bad for my role in that, but then again it sounded like things with them weren't going anywhere in the first place. The only catch? He's a rising senior and I just graduated. Yeah. We decided to do the long distance thing, though, which so far is working out well. We text and talk frequently and he's already coming to visit me this week.

So... a lot has happened! I haven't even had time to fully move in yet and clean up the apartment. I start my job early July. I suppose once I've moved in I'll get back to yapping about sextoys and such.

Filed under: Girl, L, life, long distance, reflections, relationships, the Emperor, the Wanderer 2 Comments

23May/100

Gravitation

[via My Lonely Hearts Club]

gravitation. n. movement, or tendency to move, toward a center of attractive force, as in the falling of bodies to the earth.

It doesn't have to take more than a glance. You can tell almost immediately. Not love at first sight; rather, the recognition of potential. Or: desire.

How is it that you know this about a person so quickly? ...It doesn't matter. You must react to it. You owe it to yourself, and to whatever arcane forces in your head or in the air that's causing this to happen.

---

This is more a reminder to myself than anything. For the second time in a handful of months, I discovered a connection to someone, but didn't take action quickly enough. It's a little frustrating when you know the only reason you're not with someone right now is because somebody else got there first...

At the same time, I'm almost happy enough knowing that the potential is there but it isn't going to turn into anything. A little self-denial is probably good for me.

And, anyway, I'm enjoying the tension.

Filed under: intimacy, love, reflections, relationships No Comments

10May/105

Presence & Acceptance

... are the two things that I want the most right now, from a lover. Or from anyone I'm close to, actually.

This post is made up of edited excerpts of an email exchange I've been having with the Emperor. I'm just sharing it here because I'd like to see if anyone has an opinion on it, or had experiences similar to this they wanted to share. I think I want what everyone in this world is looking for, in some shape or form.

---

I am a very lonely person. Today, I was thinking about how it's been ages since I was next to someone and felt like they were fully there with me. Completely present in every fiber of their being. Lately, I've been very aware of being in the same room - same bed with someone, even - and feeling such distance. And thinking that it's not so much that we're there with each other, than it is that we both happen to be in the same place at the same time. Right now, I don't feel like anybody is so much a part of my life, or me a part of theirs, than we are simply bystanders of each other's lives.

I also want very much to let people close to me. Really let them in. It's hard first of all to find someone to trust with that much of myself, and then there's the issue of feeling like I'm forcing lots of baggage on someone. It's a weighty act for the other person to be able to see me else completely. I would imagine it to be an unwanted burden many times.

I was talking to Sir a while ago, and he said something like, "it's no good to have a partner you can't unleash yourself on." And for me that applies to close friends or close... anyone, as well. I want someone to just be able to take and accept me in all my ridiculousness, but I end up feeling guilty for not filtering myself in case they won't be able to handle it.

More and more, I'm realizing the intimacy that comes from the power, violence and extreme acts that constitute BDSM. I've had little tastes of it, and want so much to experience it with someone on a deep level, but have no idea how to find it.

I want to meet someone and look at them and think: I know you. And to look at them and realize they're thinking the same thing. That we understand each other without having to say anything; that we are the same.

Filed under: BDSM, intimacy, life, reflections, relationships, the Emperor, the Inventor 5 Comments

28Apr/102

26 whacks

Today's task:

Carry a small notebook with you. Keep notes of the following:

- times you crave contact
- times you see someone and want them
- times you think of pain
- drinks you take

For each instance of the above, you will paddle yourself once as follows:

- sit in a straight-backed chair with legs bare
- keep your legs apart
- slap your inner thigh with your wooden hair brush. This should be hard enough to just sting, but not bruise
- strike the same spot every time.
- make sure each slap follows in quick succession
- if there were less than 20 items, give yourself 20 more slaps.

Drinks I've had today: 3
People I've seen and wanted to fuck: 1
Times I craved sexual contact: 10
Times I craved pain: 12
Total number of whacks: 26

Guess how many of the instances I wanted sex coincided with the instances I wanted pain?

This is another instance of me getting a task from Sir and thinking: "omg, how evil!" as well as "omg, how ingenious." After reading over his instructions for the day, I felt like I was playing "the game"... you know, "you only lose at the game by thinking about the game", etc. After knowing what was in store for me, I kept thinking about it. And I'd also remind myself that I had to do it, which made me think about how much I wanted it.

Quite clever.

The whacks stung more than I expected, but clearly weren't that painful since they only left a hint of red, which has now faded.

Filed under: BDSM, Erotica, bottom/object, journal, long distance, pain, the Inventor 2 Comments

26Apr/104

Choke

Sir has been on a bit of a choking kick lately.

He's never really mentioned choking before, but since I started subbing to him he's brought it up quite a bit.

Today, Sir granted me two jack-off sessions. The first was while I was videochatting with him. After telling me to strip off each piece of my clothing until I was naked, he gave me a choice: to come on camera, or off camera. After some initial nervousness, I felt comfortable enough with myself to choose to come on camera. I lay back, adjusted the computer so he could see, closed my eyes, and went at it. I knew Sir was naked, jerking off at the same time, and I wish I wasn't so self-conscious so I could look into the camera, and watch him.

Maybe next time.

Afterwards, Sir told me how much he enjoyed seeing me. He's trying to make it so that I'm comfortable enough to perform for him. I'm surprised at how quickly I felt at ease with being naked, and then getting myself off, in front of him.

My second session came with a condition:

Since you did so well with your performance art - you are due for a reward. We will focus on your traditional pleasure points. Toys are permitted. but you are required to do this in a way that pleases me. you will be fully naked, lying on your back. There is one key - you need to loop a belt around your neck, and pull it just slightly tight as you do this. Cut off no oxygen, just make it slightly harder to breathe. I wnat you to be able to come through this sensation... and hopefully love it.

Initially, I was at pains to figure out a way to keep the belt around my neck hands-free and without hurting myself. Finally, I looped the belt around my neck, used a rubber band to mark the point where I'd want to add a new hole, and made a new hole in the belt with a craft knife thing I'd drunken-kleptomaniacally taken from Zeta Mu one night (I should probably return it). The belt itself, interestingly enough, is from my first boyfriend. He left it behind, and I kept it, but it actually doesn't fit me. I used it to belt Christopher once, and hopefully will use it again.

Anyway, the belt made it more laborious for me to breathe, but didn't actually deprive me of air or make me feel lightheaded or anything, which I assume was the point. Feeling the leather and metal tight around my neck, and having to alter my breathing, added to my arousal almost immediately.

I used my trusty Lelo Ina and came ridiculously quickly.

I'm looking forward to the day that Sir will be the one wielding the belt.

---

Note: I only had the belt around my neck for a 10-15 minutes, but I wonder if doing this multiple times would damage my neck. I feel like it's the same as wearing a collar tight around your neck, but maybe I'm wrong. If anyone has any advice about this, please let me know. Also, ideally I would have wanted to do this with somebody else, maybe one of my roommates, knowing what I was doing so they could come check on me, just in case.

Filed under: BDSM, Erotica, asphyxiation, bottom/object, exhibitionism & voyeurism, journal, long distance, the Inventor, wanking 4 Comments

25Apr/103

Voice

This post is the result of a task Sir set me yesterday. His prompt:

I want you write a story about being fucked by me. Assume your wrists will be bound, and that I will have freedom to roll you on your knees or your back. This story should be full of explicit detail, and focus on how your body and mind feel through the experience.

Once written, I want you to make an MP3 of you reading it. GarageBand on your computer will do the recording for you. Depending on the quality of your performance, I will give you some sort of reward session.

Recording this was interesting. I felt so awkward at the beginning, and I hate my voice, but as I read more, I started to feel weirdly liberated. I started owning the words that came out of my mouth and enjoyed saying them.

---

The tension had been building up all day - from the moment you'd met at the bus station and exchanged conspiratorial smiles. And then there was all the "accidental" brushing up against each other at the restaurant; your toe stroking his ankle briefly under the table, spooning ice cream into your mouth, your eyes twinkling.

When you arrive at the hotel room, he didn't waste any time. He tells you that he wants you naked, and you comply, nervously stripping off each piece of clothing and piling everything neatly on one of the armchairs.

"Stand still," he says. He comes up behind you and slips something silky over your eyes and around your head. His tie, probably. Then: nothing. You can feel his appraising gaze on you. The room is not at all cold, but your skin is chilled and prickling with goosebumps.

When you feel his hand on your wrist, you almost jump out of your skin. The sound of velcro separating licks through the quiet room. He puts your hands behind your back and cuffs you.

More nothing: just rustling, then the unmistakable clink of a belt buckle. You swallow, wondering what he's going to do next.

Soon, he returns, standing in front of you.

He tells you to kneel. You do, feeling the soft carpeting against your knees, being careful to keep your balance. You begin to feel yourself fall swiftly and irresistibly into that comfortable, confined space in your mind.

"The thought of fucking my pet has made me hard."

He fists his hand in your hair and yanks you forward. You can feel his hardness against your cheek: warm, already leaking pre-cum that smears onto your face.

"Do you want me to fuck you, pet?"

"Yes, Sir. So badly."

"In time. First, you'll take my cock in your mouth. And if you please me... I'll fuck you." His fingers tighten in your hair.

Doing this without your hands or sight is more than awkward. You touch your nose to the side of his cock, put our your tongue and lick along the underside, then wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue, and swallow.

You want to take all of him in, know that you can't, but try anyway. Your throat makes embarrassing, crude sucking noises, and you gag around him. You try to relax, willing your body to accept his cock, wanting to accept his cock, and that makes it easier. He keeps his hand in your hair, moving you to the rhythm that he wants. After a while he releases you. Your lips are covered in saliva and it's threatening to drip down your chin, but you can't wipe it away. You lick your lips instead.

"Stand up." His breath is ragged. It makes you want to smile.

You wobble to your feet and he plucks your small body up into his arms, and sets you back down. You're face down on the bed.

"Get on your knees and bend over."

You tuck your knees under you, pushing your face against the sheets to get into position. You can feel him looming over you. He smooths his hand over one asscheek, and then his fingers find your cunt - your sopping wet cunt. You whimper. He chuckles. He fingerfucks you, fast and hard, gradually adding more fingers. When you seem to be on the verge of coming, he derails you with a well-placed spank.

He withdraws his fingers and you feel a new pressure on the bed. He rests his hands on your hips.

"I'm going to fuck you, pet. You're not allowed to come until I tell you to."

You groan. You feel him pause at your entrance for a split second, before he plunges into you, making you gasp. He pounds you, there's no other word for it: his cock filling you, his hips bumping against your ass, his fingers pressing into your hips so hard there's sure to be bruises later.

He pulls out of you suddenly and flips you over.

"I'm going to cut off your air for ten seconds," he says; breathless himself.

You nod. He enters you again. At the same time, you feel his hand clamp down around your throat. The lack of air and intense fucking make you feel light-headed.

The ten seconds stretch out forever, but eventually he releases you.

"You may come."

His hand moves from your neck to your clit. He starts pounding you in earnest, and you come almost instantly: screaming out your orgasm so loud you swear the entire floor can hear it. After a few more strokes, he follows you over the edge, groaning against you, flooding you with his come.

A moment of inertia: the both of you panting, hearts beating a mile a minute. Then he sits up, gathers you in his arms and removes the cuffs and the silk tie. And all you can think is: I screamed. I didn't think I was capable of it, I didn't think I could contain that much sensation. But I did scream, and he made me.

Filed under: BDSM, Erotica, asphyxiation, bottom/object, fiction, long distance, sex, sex fantasy, the Inventor 3 Comments

22Apr/107

Pet (HNT)

It's only been about a month since me and J broke up, and already I'm back up to my old tricks.

A few days ago, I was venting to an online friend (who I will refer to from now as the Inventor) about the breakup. He consoled me, and after a while the conversation somehow segued to the topic of BDSM.

He asked if I wanted to submit to him.

I said yes.

For the past few days, he has given me numerous tasks to do. Some highlights: go without underwear for the entire day, expose myself and take a picture (he gave me permission to post it ^ ), & wear a plug for at least an hour.

He requests that I call him Sir, and wear my amethyst & silver bracelet (the one I used last time I was subbing for someone) when serving him. He let me choose my own title. I find most submissive titles somewhat obnoxious. I couldn't really settle on one I loved, but I went with one that sounded less obnoxious than the others - pet. The more he addresses me with it, the more I grow to like it.

He knows I'm inexperienced, and so is doing his best to build me up without causing me (too much) discomfort. So far, I've given up quite a lot of control to him already. I cannot touch myself or orgasm without his permission (excluding sex with other people), and starting from tomorrow he will be picking out clothes for me. (I sent him a list of most of the clothes and shoes I own. God, that was a long list.) Interestingly, I think the clothing rule will be more difficult than the orgasm rule, because clothes are such a big part of my self-expression. But, then, that's also part of the reason why I like that rule so much. Having someone control my behavior, even though it may be in seemingly inconsequential terms, is such an exciting act to me.

He also wants to make a point to get me to get over my aversion to verbalizing my thoughts and wants. If I'm IMing with someone, or writing, the dirty talk will just come pouring out - I've even started narrating sex in my head sometimes - but when it comes to saying it out loud, I freeze up. He knows this about me. He also wants to get me to be more comfortable with "performing" on cam for him. (And he knows me well enough to explicitly forbid any form of "liquid courage" while I'm camming with him. Damn.)

Yesterday, we were camming and he was telling me how hard he was at the thought of fucking me. Seeing his face and being able to put his facial expression to the words was exciting enough - I mostly just IM with him, and have spoken to him on the phone a couple of times, but never cam with him. Then he panned the camera down to show me the unmistakable bulge in his jeans. I bit down on my lip; on the tips of my fingers.

He said I might get to see more if I did something else for him. He wanted me to say, out loud, how much I wanted to fuck him. And to call him Sir. Nicely.

Part of me hates calling people "Sir" out loud. The word just sounds out of place; like I shouldn't be using it.

But I did it. I fumbled around awkwardly in my seat for a minute, and then I did it.

He rewarded me by letting me watch him take his cock out and stroke himself, slowly. I stared. I wanted so much to take him in my mouth...

After I got over some of the initial nervousness and shyness, I began wondering how I could make things even more interesting. Like a child with a new schoolteacher, I started thinking about loopholes, margins that I could play with. D/s is interesting because it's basically mutual manipulation, except both parties know exactly what's going on. I wouldn't want to do enough to anger or disrespect him, but I'm curious about what a little struggle could do.

I got an answer today. Last night, I got drunk at Zeta Mu and couldn't find this one person I'd been looking to hook up with (again). I went to bed drunk and sexually frustrated, and ended up putting my hands into my boxers and touching myself for a few minutes before drifting off to sleep.

I confessed this to him today, while I was at work, actually. He told me to find a private place, expose my ass, and spank myself hard enough to leave a red mark. I very self-consciously went to the restroom and did so. I knew that my hand would not be enough, so I ended up using a letter opener. Talk about creative use of office supplies.

I came back to my desk feeling embarrassed and obedient, with the sting of the letter opener slowly fading away as I sat.

I've been brought to such a heightened state of sexual tension that it feels like my entire body is thrumming. I think about fucking him while I'm at work, and while I'm doing my daily errands. I picture him taking me bent over desks, surreptitiously in darkened hallways, and on sumptuous bedsheets. I picture him biting me, fucking me hard and kissing the breath out of me until I'm too spent to move or speak after he's done.

Naturally, I hadn't done anything sexual for about a week beforehand. He has only granted me one orgasm so far, so I savored it. I made myself come like I hadn't in a long time: only with my fingers, slowly circling my clit and exploring my folds, while imagining him throwing me over his lap, spanking me and making me whimper, before brushing his fingers, oh so softly, over my wetness.

He has wonderfully large hands. I know that much.

This is re-opening parts of me that had been temporarily closed off. I'm writing erotica again; feeling my sexual energy again. I didn't realize what a big part of my sexuality kink was. I don't need it all the time, but it was definitely difficult being with a purely vanilla partner. I love vanilla sex as much as anyone, but so often my mind would naturally edge towards biting, scratching, slapping, serving and kneeling. Not being able to express my sexuality that way made me kind of boring.

I'm grateful for what he has done for/with me so far. And I'm looking forward for what is to come.

hhnt~

Filed under: BDSM, Erotica, HNT, anal play, bottom/object, cybersex, journal, long distance, sexual frustration, the Inventor, wanking 7 Comments

21Apr/101

Claiming (4/4): A Postscript on Power

This is a series I started a while ago, around October 2009, but never finished. It's kind of stale now so I don't want to continue it. I wrote this post as a planned ending, and I'm posting it now because I think it's important for me to say it, though I didn't actually write the rest of the planned posts. Also, it's less awkward to post this now that I'm not seeing someone else.

Read part 1, part 2 and part 3, if you want.

[a scene from the movie Secretary]

I believe that if you have an interest in D/s, power probably has some sort meaning in your life.

Of course, power effects everyone in some shape or form. It underlies every area of life. But if you're into D/s, it's different.

Power means something special to you.

Well, at least, it means something special to me. I'm fascinated by it. I write about it, both in erotica and regular fiction. And sometimes I crave it. Crave to at least pretend that I have it, that I have power over something or someone else. Crave for it to be taken away from me and given to someone else.

Power says something about me - about my personality. About my background. About the experiences that formed the person I am today.

I'm not saying I'm some kind of rape or assault survivor. Nothing as severely damaging as that. Much less harmful. Some things, that I don't even understand enough to talk about here, aren't harmful at all.

But still. Doesn't have to be big to be meaningful.

---

While I was doing those things for Sir, I felt familiar emotions come over me. Familiar, but not the same as I remember. You see, I've been in a number of emotionally abusive friendships in my lifetime, in the sense that I was too giving, and they were assholes who took advantage of it. At least three of my closest friends were people who also demanded a lot of me.

Best Friend #1 would criticize me for very small things, intensely and spitefully enough that it made me terribly upset. That's when I started scratching myself. She got me to do things for her, like help her with her homework, keep her company, wait for her when she had things to do after school, but at a detriment to the things I had to/wanted to do for myself. And she would get really angry if I said I couldn't do them. I was friends with this person for four years. I think it's a large reason behind why I struggle so much with having low self-esteem now. We still actually keep in touch, although our friendship dynamic has changed: now she treats her boyfriends like shit, not me.

Best Friend #2 was very needy. He had a lot of issues to work through. For a while it was almost like I was his counselor/personal assistant. I'd wake him up and try and get him out of bed if he asked me to. I stayed up late with him when he wanted me to (I think the latest I stayed up with him was until 8am on a school night). I talked through his schoolwork with him when he was having trouble with it, and skipped social events I wanted to go to for him. This friendship was unlike the first: I really don't believe that he purposefully set out to hurt me. I think he was just going through a very bad time and really needed someone to be there. And another difference: this time I tried to struggle. Sometimes I'd try to turn my back on him, but he made me feel so bad about it and guilt-tripped me so badly that I ended up giving in anyway.

The bottom line, though, is that a large part of me very much enjoys, and needs to, help the people I care about and do things for them. They were being selfish, but in a way I was being selfish too, because I needed to be needed. I like being needed. Often, I care more about the things I'm doing for other people than the things I'm doing for myself. (Which I know is not healthy - I need to care about myself too, just as much as anyone else I love, and I am getting better and better at doing that.) But I made it too easy for people like #1 and #2 to take advantage of me. I didn't take care of myself enough. I let that be their responsibility instead of my own - and so they walked all over me.

I felt myself falling a little bit back into that mindset with Sir. Wanting intensely to do exactly what he wanted me to do, feeling anxious when I wouldn't be able to. But it wasn't exactly the same as before: it was better. It was so, so much better. Some people still mistakenly believe that BDSM is abuse - it's really not. With Sir, I didn't feel panicked or scared or sad. On the contrary, the experience made me feel happy and fulfilled. The few times that I started to panic about not being able to do something, Sir realized this and calmed me down. He took my feelings and my needs into consideration every step of the way. In many cases, it was more like Sir was doing things for me, giving me chances to indulge in the fantasies that I had, instead of the other way around.

Most importantly, I chose to submit to him. I wasn't forced to. It wasn't like he threatened to end our friendship if I didn't do this with him.

Consent and consideration. A person who says s/he's a "dominant" and ignores those two basic principles is a dick in dominant disguise, or else a really bad dominant.

Filed under: BDSM, Sir, bottom/object, in retrospect, intimacy, reflections, relationships, sex 1 Comment

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Wilhelmina Wang. Queer, female college student with her mind lodged firmly in the gutter, seeking genderbenders, lessons in BDSM, a meaningful fuck, and a point in life.

Here's where her mind is spilled like the proverbial guts.

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