that guy from my frat

Piss Shy, Part Nine

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Disclaimer: The content of this story is a little bit harsher and a little more intense than most of the experiences I have written about on here. Please keep in mind that I had safe words – “yellow” for slow down or do less, “red” for stop. The things I did were done willingly and enthusiastically, even when I demonstrated reluctant or fearful behavior. I like to be scared and I like to feel psychologically exhausted, and this experience allowed me to tread some harsher waters. So, I hope you’ll stick along for the ride.

I went to rush out of the bathroom when Flint ushered the group back in, grabbing my shoulder and turning me around. Lida slipped out of her pants and underwear, stepping into the bathtub and squatting down. 

Now, tumblr. I’ve seen some shit. I’ve watched a dick the size of my forearm get stepped on like a bug, that guy from my frat has tricked me into watching a prolapse porn (EUGH), an anon on here once sent me a 10 second video of himself jerking off that ended with him whispering, “I love you” (OH MY GOD IT WAS AWFUL AND IF ANYONE EVER DOES IT AGAIN I WILL RIP YOU TO SHREDS.) But, nothing was more “oh my gosh I can’t look but I can’t look away and I don’t know how I feel about this but I think I might like it” than watching Lida pee into the bathtub, wipe herself with her hand, and then lick her hand clean. 

Back in the living room, Lida, WRM and I held down a blindfolded Macy while Flint repeatedly slapped her pussy. All things considered, she took it like a champ.

“So, what’d you think of that?” Flint asked, “in the bathroom with Lida. She hasn’t used a toilet since, what, Christmas?” Lida blushed and looked down at her hands.

I shook my head and chuckled, “I’ve gotta walk that off.”

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A couple of people have tagged me in the thing where you pull up iTunes and post up the first 20 or so songs that come on your shuffle. I wasn’t sure if I was going to do it, but I pulled up iTunes just to see what came of it. 

The first song was one that I used to listen to right around when Sir and I first were messing around back in fall of 2012. Hearing it again, it took me back to the really weird space of that time where we sort of had no idea what was going on between us.

He’d given me the panic attack when he found my tumblr, he’d turned out okay, but I was still nervous. Even though I’d never seen him before at school, even though we had mutual friends and yet somehow had never encountered each other, once I met him he started turning up everywhere. Not in a stalkery way, in the way that something keeps appearing once you’re actually looking for it. And it made me anxious, because I worried about people somehow finding out about this blog.

I might just text you
Turn your phone over, when it’s all over
No settling down, my text go to your screen
You know better than that.
I come around when you least expect me.
I’m sitting at the bar when your glass is empty.

We started seeing each other behind everybody’s back. Not romantically, but just to mess around. After meeting him for the first time, I awkwardly got really subspaced when he tested out a flogger on me and felt really strangely attached. And I carried it out in doing this weird secret arrangement where he’d sneak in after my roommate fell asleep, tie me up and play with me, and then leave. It made me feel a little naughty and a little brave, and they say nothing brings people closer than sharing a secret.

You start calling, you start crying.
I come over, I’m inside you,
I can’t find you.

Aside from the obvious emotional fuckery that something like that comes with, I was coping with the fact that my relationship with that guy from my frat was not going to work and that he and I were awkwardly transitioning back into being just friends. To make matters worse, he was getting interested in my close friend, the Redhead.

And, even worse, I was placing all my shame and anxiety over this blog and my kink onto Sir. Worse, I was conflating it with him. 

Meanwhile, Sir wasn’t over a girl and the two of us would just wind up venting to each other about our respective issues. I spent a night at his place, talking and crying on his couch until five in the morning.

I was wrong, but would you have listened to you?

In an effort to protect ourselves, we were absurdly cold to each other. He had trouble kissing me. I had trouble not turning every other comment into a bitchy wisecrack against him when we weren’t just messing around. It was a harebrained effort to protect my heart from someone I felt an instant connection with but who I wasn’t sure would reciprocate. 

Are we dating? Are we fucking?
Are we best friends? Are we something in between that?
I wish we never fucked, and I mean that,
But not really, you say the nastiest shit in bed and it’s fuckin’ awesome.

Looking back, it’s weird to think that I felt so ambivalent about someone almost two years ago who now means so much to me. It’s also clear to me now how freaking lucky we were, because this could’ve all come together horribly. We were navigating this strange in-between space, we were trying to subvert an intimacy that was attempting to take root. Until, one day, he asked if he could kiss me. And then, at a Halloween party, he forgot himself and kissed me in front of my friends. Just like that, we weren’t a secret anymore. And suddenly, we felt free to be ourselves with each other, I felt safe being sweet and open with him, he felt comfortable being affectionate with me.

So, Sir and I are in love and happy. Even that guy from my frat and the Redhead are happily living together and are some of our closest friends. But, damn, could that have turned out pretty shitty. 

I guess the moral of the story is that even though he and I were fortunate enough to work out, don’t put up walls with people you want to let in. 

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I’m seeing Sir in a week, which I am so excited for. 

We had a talk last night where we went over some of the tough stuff about distance and the state of the relationship. And one of the things we agreed on, oddly enough, was that we wanted to get to a point where finally seeing each other doesn’t just mean two or three days straight of sex.

So, we made some plans for this trip that involve doing stuff with our clothes on, like going on a double date with That Guy from My Frat and The Redhead.

losed:

David Meskhi

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I was so excited to see Sir that I kept kissing him every couple of steps between the train station and his place. It took us quite a while for us to get home.

He followed through on his promise (threat?) and got me a stuffie to sleep with. Except I sort of kind of love it and maaaaybe I’ll bring it to bed with me tonight and I miiight have spent some time snuggling it this weekend. Aka a lot of time. Whatever.

Later on the first evening I was there, we were hanging out with that guy from my frat and the redhead. The two are living together now and the Redhead’s at grad school in the Ivy University area, so we were talking about that. At some point, I was goofing around and patted my lap and told Sir to sit on it.

He shook his head and patted his. “No, come sit on mine. You’re my little girl.” Later, he apologized and said it had just slipped out. And maybe the look the Redhead gave me was a little bit embarrassing, but I didn’t completely mind.

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So, Craftsmate, that guy from my frat and I decided to spend yesterday afternoon doing arts and crafts.

Except, it was the sort of arts and crafts that Craftsmate earned his nickname for in the first place.

Essentially, that guy from my frat has been asking him to teach him how to make a flogger. And, with the snow, we figured it would be a fun thing to do inside after what I still consider to be a pretty unfair snowball fight.

While they worked on floggers, I set to finishing a blindfold Craftsmate had started on but had not gotten around to finishing. It looked like the one pictured, with individual padded circles and a strap running through them and around the wearer’s head.

After we had finished, that guy from my frat went to return his floggers to his dorm and said he would text us in an hour about potentially grabbing some dinner.

One he had left, I held the blindfold out to Craftsmate and told him that I wanted to try it on. With it buckled to the tightest rung, I couldn’t see a thing. Most blindfolds allowed some trickle of light to come in by the nose, but this one literally left me in darkness by virtue of its design.

Rendered blind, I suddenly felt indescribably helpless as Craftsmate reached out to stroke my cheek and push me down onto my knees in front of him.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

I nodded, “yeah. I feel kind of helpless.”

“You do?” I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yeah, well, I can’t see a thing,” I answered before gingerly adding, “would you cuff my hands? Just for a minute?”

The cuffs went on fairly quickly and he looped his finger into the chain, jerking me forward and launching into an inspection right there. I nearly died when he pried my mouth open and started checking my teeth, moving his thumbs over my molars methodically.

He stopped when he heard my phone buzz. “You should text [that guy from my frat] back.”

What had felt like two minutes under the blindfold had somehow been an hour. I guess time moves a little differently in complete darkness. Go figure.

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Now that I’ll never be able to listen to Bach again without picturing some girl receiving analingus on a plush, white carpet.

Here’s the pornchestra. Which is exactly what it sounds like and much, much more.

That guy from my frat showed this to The Redhead and I, who proceeded to watch it, speechless. Because my friends are probably significantly weirder than yours.

Brownie points to whoever can figure out the pornstar with the pretty impressive vocal register is.

Flash Forward #1

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The fact is, tumblr, that in writing about my visit to Penthouse, I set myself back a month in terms of posting. Which is definitely not a bad thing, usually. Except, this was an incredibly eventful month. So, since a lot of my favorite movies involved fucked up presentations of time (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Memento, etc.), I’m doing some flash forwards. Essentially, I’m writing about the present time sans context. Posts from the past are forthcoming, but I thought it would be fun to intersperse some stuff from the present.


It’s movie night.

That guy from my frat and I are on Craftsmate’s couch, waiting for the Redhead to arrive. Craftsmate is in the kitchen with two of my other friends, making popcorn. Apparently, this is a three-person job.

“You should thank me for tonight,” that guy from my frat says.

I roll my eyes.

He presses. “Ask me why you should be thanking me.”

I humor him. “Why should I be thanking you?”

“I leant Craftsmate my whip for tonight,” he reveals with a grin. The night before, the two of them had been discussing this stuff. After that guy from my frat had left my room, he had sent Craftsmate a text offering the whip. Naturally, Craftsmate showed me and we had a laugh about it.

“I know,” I reply. “Craftsmate showed me the text. So, thanks, you weirdo.” I give him a playful nudge.

He smiles. “Just being a good neighbor.”

The Redhead arrives just as the popcorn is finishing. She sits on that guy from my frat’s other side and starts up another round of our mutual complaining about applying to grad school. 

Craftsmate emerges from the kitchen with my two friends and sits down on my other side. I curl up into him as my friends sit down on the other couch. 

As the movie plays, I look up and down the couch over The Redhead, that guy from my frat, Craftsmate. Things feel strangely good, like all the pieces were thrown up in the air and have somehow fallen into some pattern that works. Craftsmate leans down and kisses me. He tastes like popcorn and ginger beer.

After the movie, that guy from my frat has to make a big deal out of showing me the whip. The two friends, who are pretty vanilla, are kind of intrigued.

“Oh,” I reply, putting on some fake dismay to mess with him. “That’s a flogger. Craftsmate already has a few of those. But I guess that makes sense since you also thought all the random people in Public Disgrace weren’t actual paid participants and just literal randos on the street." 

That guy from my frat starts trying to bust my chops and saying he’s going to sign me up to model for Kink behind my back. The Redhead reaches behind him to pull on my sleeve. "Don’t worry,” she mouths, “I make him pay for it when he messes with you like that." 

We both start laughing hysterically. 

"And for your information, young lady,” reads a text from that guy from my frat after he and The Redhead have left. “I’m usually a top.”

I chuckle and send back, “have fun biting the pillow.”

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Once a week, three friends and I meet up to watch movies. The cast of characters of the movie-watching group have wound up being:

  1. Craftsmate – The classmate who found my tumblr and proceeded to give me an identity crisis.
  2. That guy from my frat – A former hookup who has now become a rather good friend. And, much to my mixed dismay and amusement, has become friends with Craftsmate.
  3. The Redhead – A friend of mine who helps run a student organization with me. I have pretty solid evidence that she, along with everyone else in the room, is kinky as all get-out.

Sometimes, I glance around the room at them and try not to die from laughter or irony or whatever else. It’s strange how things work out, but I’m learning to be comfortable with the weirdness.

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Something I’m very passionate about is in danger because of some bullshit. It’s a project I’ve been working on for a cause I very much believe in, but there are some people who don’t want to see it happen. 

I found out about some pretty shady things that were going on yesterday and wound up spending nearly the whole day in my pajamas, at my computer, sending emails and trying to straighten stuff out. 

That guy from my frat was actually very kind and sat with me, calmed me down and told me I would just need to let go until it was straightened out. I was in the right, he reassured me, but I had done all that I could do in the present moment.

“Now, come on, I’ll make you a gin and tonic and we’ll go to the convenience store.”

“Can I shower first?” I asked, “I’d love the dignity of being able to wear a bra before 5 pm.”

After I showered, I headed over to his place, where he proceeded to give me a sticker for my hard work and then pour a gin and tonic, lime and all, into one of those portable coffee cups so I could take it with me to the store.

Call it trashy, but I found it to be a very sweet gesture.