I crave this

Intensely. The craving increases with every experience I have in this realm, no matter to what degree. It entices me, draws me deeper into myself. I cannot properly explain it. It makes me lose my breath, become dizzy, frantic, panicked even. It is a part of me that I did not realize existed until a few years ago and has only magnified itself until I cannot, will not, live my life without it.

“I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding.”
― Anaïs Nin

A good reason I suppose

This blog has suffered due to recent sexy happenings, mostly of the good sort but also a bit of the dramatic, not so good sort. I want to get back to writing here and how much I share of the aforementioned "happenings" remains to be seen. But for now, it feels good to sit at the keyboard in the dead of night and just type here.

sweet sexy girly love

My ass. Frances' hand.

So I lied. This next post in the retelling of my sexy weekend with Frances is not going to be about the sex toys.  I think I'll save that one for my last installment. Besides, tonight I'm feeling less raunchy dirty girl and more sensual sweet girl. But let's get to it...

Alcohol. Liquid courage is always helpful when you're unsure of yourself. It had been a long while since I'd kissed a woman, much less enjoyed the fruits of lady bits on my tongue. My memory is fuzzy as to the timeline of events, but suffice it to say that with the help of Jack Daniels and Diet Coke, I was soon ripping Frances' pants from her body. What followed was, as Frances put it, what guys probably imagine happens at a girly sexy slumber party, minus the naked pillow fights.

Once the offending clothes were gone, I couldn't keep my hands and mouth off of her glorious breasts. So different from my own, I was a bit fascinated by them I'll blushingly admit. By how they felt under my hands, how her nipples reacted to my mouth on them. I touched them. A lot. What can I say? I'm a boob girl.

She was very responsive, which I loved, and told me when and how to adjust my actions to suit what she liked. And her pussy...her pussy tasted so fucking good. Sweet and wet and delicious. I found the act to be rather natural and I have no idea why, given my lack of experience. Although it makes sense to me that its quite an intuitive thing; for a woman to perform oral on another woman. I loved knowing that my mouth and tongue were giving pleasure to another female. She gladly reciprocated and I found her mouth to be heavenly on my nethers. She treated my lips to the delights of her own and seemed to know when and how to lick, suck, and finger me. Whew. Girly love is hot y'all.

We kissed, we fondled, licked and caressed. She even spanked me, knowing I like a rougher hand at times. It was such an erotic thing, exploring each others' bodies, feeling the softness that only another woman possesses. It was so...sensual, yet also very comfortable. I loved the cuddles. The ease of how our bodies fit together while spooning was so freakin' adorable. We snuggled and continued to touch each other while we talked and finally, slept.

It wasn't all sweetness and soft touches however. Sex toy testing was next on our list of activities and I definitely had my favorites. With pictures to prove it. Next post, promise.

xoxo,
Bella

ok blogger

I am not about to go out like this. I have sexy shit to tell the world. So much so, that I have been too busy to write about it. But various posts are brewing and stewing in my brain and will be put to the keyboard asap.

I am not happy that I haven't yet continued my recap of my fabulous girly-love experience with Frances. I even set a goal of posting more about that over the weekend and yes, I failed miserably at achieving it. Shut up. It will happen this week or I will die trying. And if you follow me on twitter, which you should totally do by the way (@notTHATbella), you would know that Mr. Man and I have had separate sexy time with a local married couple, and I have permission to write about that as well. HOT HOT HOT.

Anyway, I just wrote this to say that I'm about to make Blogger my bitch. Stay tuned.

xoxo,
Bella

first encounter of the girl blogger kind

I'm struggling a bit with how to recap my weekend with Frances. I suck at remembering timelines and recounting what happened first and then such and such happened, etc. I think I'm better at describing the emotions behind the actions so maybe that's how I'll approach posting about this.

Frances and I had been chatting every day for weeks and quickly realized that we got along great, had a lot of things in common and yet, a whole bunch of differences that never left us lacking for things to talk about. Once the idea of meeting came up, we moved on it quickly because, well, why not? We figured out a city that was almost exactly a midway point, booked a hotel room, and the next thing I know, I'm driving five hours north to meet a "stranger" from the internet. Ain't life grand?

I pulled up next to her in the hotel parking lot and I think we both gave each other goofy grins and spastic waves through our car windows. Hugs were exchanged and off we went to claim our weekend hideaway. The guy at the front desk kept trying to switch the original room I'd booked with a king bed to one with two beds. As if two bi-curious chicks meeting for the first time wouldn't actually WANT to share a bed. Sheesh dude. We politely refused his offer at least twice, and lugged massive amounts of over packed luggage up to room 334.

The timeline of events is all jumbled in my head. I do know that we spent the first portion of our time together cross-legged and lounging on the bed gabbing like it was the hen party of the century. Seriously. We talked. A lot. I was relieved to find that Frances was easy to talk to and laugh with. This was going to be a good weekend with a new friend regardless of what else might happen.

That evening we ventured out into the city to make some serious hot lovin' to 5 Guys. Damn those burgers and fries were goooooooood. I'm just going to go ahead and tell you that Frances and Bella can put away some 5 Guys, Cracker Barrel, Reeses, Doritoes, and Skittles. Oh and adult beverages. This was a no guilt, no diet, no holds barred weekend.

Next post....the sex toys come out.

xoxo,
Bella

Frances and Bella's Sexy Weekend; A Teaser Post

As I mentioned towards the end of this post, I have been looking forward to a weekend getaway with a new friend. That getaway happened this past weekend and...IT.WAS.SEXY.AS.FUCK.

Frances has started to recap over at her new blog so go check it out! The cropped photo that she posted here is one of my many favorites from the weekend and I swear if I could frame it and hang it up in my house, I totally would.

I will post details from my perspective very soon, but until then, I leave you with this.

More soon lovelies.

xoxo,
Bella

real life turned dream

There are some experiences in my life that now seem as if they only happened in a dream. I can recall them if I want to, or not. Like a movie I can play over and over again in my mind and pause, fast forward, or rewind.

There are even a few people I was once fiercely close to who now seem to have only been characters in mental dreamscapes from a long time ago.

This doesn't sadden me. I rather like it really. I like thinking back and noting when this or that happened and realizing that at that particular point in my real-life-experience turned dream-movie, that thing was meant to be a lesson for me to remember and use in the future.

“Hold fast to dreams,
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird,
That cannot fly.”
― Langston Hughes