I haven't seen Benny in a while and I'm fairly sure I'm not going to. Much as it pains me to admit it, the fucking fantastic bondage sex isn't worth the "THIS IS A NO EMOTIONS ZONE, YOU BETTER NOT BE HAVING AN EMOTION THERE MA'AM" bullshit.
Which puts me on the market again. Or the semi-market, because I've still got and love Alan for cuddlywuddly purposes, but when it comes to rough stuff his repertoire's pretty much limited to gently pinching a nipple and then saying "I'm sorry." I'm in the market for a part-time, non-monogamous but warm dominant/sadist who doesn't take this stuff too seriously. (In the Seattle area. Email me.)
Assuming my readership isn't that broad, I guess I'm going to have to do all the tiresome getting-yourself-out-there shticks that I really don't miss from singlehood. Munches, parties, the naughty personals, sheez. I'm sorry to sound so down on it, but man-hunting combines two of my least favorite things: pretending to be outgoing (I'm not unfriendly, but I'm very awkward with strangers) and being judged on my body. I know there's a lot of people and especially BDSM people who don't mind a tummy, but at the same time I feel like "redhead, 22, wants to be your hittyslut" would be a much easier sell than "redhead, 22, 170 pounds, wants to be your hittyslut."
Ah well. I'm a young kinky woman in a kinky town and I'm not much fussy, I suspect this won't be so hard. I'll let you know how it goes. In detail.
Monday, 7 April 2008
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