Posted by: littlegirlyone | January 31, 2010

Killing the Flame, part 6

Of all the installments of this series, this has been the hardest one for me to write. Part of me wanted to end it at part 5. Or at least, write something strong, something brave in part 6. About how I left him in the dark with my head held high. How I got up and assertively packed my clothing and my sexuality into a tidy bundle, and dragged them both off into the warm night. How I had the self-respect to go when it became clear that he didn’t value, understand, or care to process what we’d done.

But I didn’t.

There’s a tension for me as a writer between writing what’s intimate and true, and writing what’s hot. I feel obligated on the one hand to give you all a good little peep show. This is a sex blog, and you come here, presumably, because there’s something about me, or my submission or my internet persona that you find compelling. I take that very seriously, and honestly? Both on the internet and off, I’m happy and comfortable with the erotic side of myself. I want you to want me. It makes me feel powerful, useful and confident. I’m happy to share all of that with you.

But that means there’s a tendency to only write about the good parts of me and my experiences. Focus on the cocksucking and the wetness and the orgasms and the little things that give me low shivers and make my hand sneak between my thighs.

But, there’s another kind of intimacy, and I believe (actually, I know) that at least some of you are here for that second kind. The raw kind. The self-reflective kind. The kind that is about dealing with, and revealing, all the scary, unflattering, emotional and confusing sides of me. So if you’re one of the readers that wants to crawl inside me, feel my hurt, and listen while I parse through what brought me to the dark bedroom with the long-ago ex-boyfriend, this installment is for you.

I didn’t leave.

I noted earlier how being around Alan again brought our original dynamic to the forefront. As kids we interacted the way most teenagers do: out of instinct, out of habit. We triggered eachother’s patterns, and that’s part of what drew us together and repelled us apart. It was an endless cycle of intimacy and abandonment, power and rejection, desire and pain. Alan would make me feel like the only girl in the world one minute, then completely expendable an hour later. It stung every time he replaced me (often making out with other girls right in front of me), but it made me want to win him back, too. It was a challenge, and it was a way for me to reassert my power using seduction.

As a teenager, I often felt frustrated with boys my own age. I wrote this spoken word piece at 16-years old. I don’t have it handy, but I’ll never forget the opening line: Ask me why I break boys like toys and I will tell you I don’t know.  The piece was about the way I felt like I was always too much for them to handle. I was too smart, too comfortable with my sexuality, too brave. I was a handful. It was as intriguing as it was frustrating. I wanted to be the powerless one, but they would just melt in my hands like so much butter hitting a frying pan. Often, it was painful. It was deeply frustrating. It probably accounts for some of my kink. And yet, when I wanted something, my ability to reduce boys to quivering with a wiggle of my ass came in pretty handy.*

Alan and I played this little game for 4 years. He’d lure me in by making me feel special. Then he’d reject me (usually by paying attention to other girls in front of me). This made me feel expendable, and I’d want to get his attention back. So I’d do something. (Like wear a sexy shirt to lunch and tease him with my cleavage across the table. Innocently, of course, but he got the message.) Then he’d be back trying to lure me, and the cycle would begin again.

What I did in the dark that night was part of a very old pattern.

I put my mouth back down, and sucked him.
When he was good and hard, I asked for a condom.
I sunk on top of him, sighing.
I came.
He wrapped his hand around my neck (of his own accord, ironically) and I came again, grinding and shuddering on his lap.
Then he flipped me over, and fucked me from behind.
He didn’t come.

We fell asleep.

In the morning, I gave him another blowjob (yep, that’s 4 in 12 hours for those of you that are counting). It lasted so long that he was almost late for an appointment. I showered, packed, met him for breakfast. He told me he wanted to go hang out with some other girl he’d been seeing, and I told him that was fine.

I left.

The flame was officially out.

*Older guys didn’t do the same thing. I couldn’t figure out why not. Maybe they’d all seen enough boobs by then, and mine didn’t have the holy shit magic effect that they had on their younger brothers. But I digress.


Responses

  1. That's a good ending.David S

  2. I checked this post as being scary, not because something about it really scared me, but I think that being put in that situation creates a bit of fear. You talked about the comfort in your situation with Alan, and while not at the forefront of your thinking, maybe part of the reason you stayed was because you were afraid to break that pattern. It's scary to stop something that you've been doing so long, no matter what the cause.Thank you for writing another piece to this story, and having it be so honest. It's a nice change from the stories I hear at school, always edited to make it sound better, or sexier, or more dramatic than it truly was. Congratulations on getting it all out!

  3. As I was reading your introduction to what you would be recounting, I thought: this is the difference between a blog and pornography.Which is not, in fact, strictly true. A blog can be devoted to unadulterated stimulation. So maybe it's more an example of what I look for in a blog.Thoughtfulness.Analysis.A clear perspective.Even in pornography.I'm perfectly capable of making up hot scenes in my head. What I value more is someone who makes me think.Thank you for that.o.g.

  4. I love your retrospective honesty!! To have that insight about your sexuality at the age of 16…(wow) Were you an early bloomer?The first line of your spoken word was pretty awesome! sass :)xo, Missy

  5. this was a great piece. i know it was hard for you to write but it was wonderful. and i'm so proud of you for getting it out here. as your readers, we look up to you, and it's nice to see you giving us such an honest portrayal of your ups and downs… your humanness.xx!

  6. Hi,Great blog.Thanks,Jayne xxwww.jaynessubmissivediary.com/

  7. That was a good ending. And fuck, just fuck.The patterns of our intimacies are so raw. I really appreciate your honesty. I only come to your blog every few months, so I just read this whole story from start to finish. I honestly felt like I could have been you, the whole time. And then you added the bit about being a strong sexy youth who played the power struggle with the boys, so that you could give them your power. Been there. In fact, I just re-played that same scenario in my first real D/s relationship. It sucked, really. I guess I had higher 'hopes' for a man who identified as a Dom, and I wasn't catching my own weaknesses. Even when I thought I was doing things differently! Sigh.Thanks a whole bunch. And I think you are a great writer. I like the scary stuff just as much as the sexy stuff- even more so.


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