Shut it.

There are about three days every month that I should just keep my mouth shut and my eyes closed tight.

If you are a girl, you may know them. If you are around girls, you may know them, too.

I had feelings.
I decided they needed to be voiced.
I sent an email.
He responded with something I wasn’t expecting.
I responded to that, in an overly emotional fashion.
My brain was no match for my dumb feelings.
Once He got home, He insisted on conversation!
My tears were no deterrent.
My pleas were met with indifference.
He wanted conversation, I wanted to hide, to back-pedal, to say nevermind.
Guess who won that little stand off?
Not me.
We talked. A lot.
I cried. Too much.
I felt like a dumbass, He felt inadequate.
We talked and fixed it, we learned. ūüôā
The thing that I’m most hesitant to do, is always the thing that brings us together.
He makes my heart soar, He lifts me up and shows me the path when I can’t see, He uses His control to make things better.
This was yesterday.
Today was good. Really good.
Next month, I’m going to set an alarm on my phone so that I keep my mouth shut!


Thinking [boobies] Thursday

October is breast cancer awareness month, so please feel your¬†boobies!¬† Seriously, everyone needs to do this monthly, but that is not what this post is about.¬† Nope, today, I’m just thinking about…

Boobs. Boobies. Tits. Titties.  Breasts.  Melons.  Whatever you want to call them.  I, personally, HATE it when mine are called breasts!  I know, that is probably weird, but I can only think of raw chicken breasts and that is just gross.  I prefer calling them anything other than breasts!

I have two boobs and on each boob there is a nipple.  They have grown and shrank, they have brought me pleasure and pain, they have nourished three children, they have filled out sweaters, they have have tumbled out of dresses, they have been hit, kissed, bitten, licked and suckled, they have bruised and bled, they have served as pillows, they have gotten in the way, they have brought me strife and joy.  My boobs are many things to me and nothing at all, but one thing they have never been is very sensitive.  You heard me:

My name is Shygirl and I do not have sensitive nipples.

For years and years, I felt bad about this.¬† I thought yet another thing¬†was wrong with me.¬† Everything I saw and read would rave on about highly responsive nipples. Okay,it was all fiction, but they have to get that from somewhere, right!? So¬†I pretended that they were sensitive.¬† I would ooh and ahhh, moan and groan at the lightest touches even though it did nothing for me.¬†¬†It was hard to ever get¬†out of my head because I just wanted my blasted nipples to work!¬† At some point, I pretty much made my boobs off limits.¬† I didn’t want to pretend anymore, I’d had three children anyway¬†and these were working boobs so Husband got thwarted¬†most¬†of the time¬†he’d go near. He didn’t like it or necessarily understand, but He loves me and did not want to make me uncomfortable so he suffered… all the while, telling me over and over how much He loved my boobs.¬† Well, you know me, I did not believe Him.¬† So we trucked on, having plenty of sex but no boobs involved…for years.

Along comes D/s.¬† When Sir and I began to (ever-so-slowly) move to a D/s lifestyle, His first two changes were these: 1. I could never again deny Him access to my boobs and 2. I had to kiss Him more (that is a lengthy post unto itself).¬†¬†These two things were very difficult for me, but I knew to have the life I wanted I had to figure it out quickly!¬† So, no more tank tops during sex, no more pushing His hands and mouth away… if He wanted my boobs, He could have them.¬† I silently cried¬†a few times… He was¬†very sweet and¬†gentle and praising, but I had such a hang up that I really didn’t enjoy it.¬† I was always so worried that He would get frustrated about my nipples¬†being slow to respond or not responding at all.¬† I could not let it go.¬† Then one day he got much rougher with them… biting, kneading, sucking… and I DID enjoy it.¬† Holy hell, did I enjoy it.¬† A day or so later, we were just talking and I flat out said my nipples aren’t very sensitive and that they never have been.¬† (My Sir’s are very sensitive which both¬†enthralls me and cracks me up) Sir was just kind of like “yeah, I know, who cares”… this was in not a¬†rude or¬† dismissive statement, He is in no way affected by my lack of sensitivity and thinks it odd that it would even bother me.¬† He¬†really is¬†great.¬†=)¬† But, back to my boobs…

If it didn’t bother Sir, and it wasn’t affecting my rockin’ sex life, why the heck should it bother me?? Maybe my nipples don’t get hard if you lightly lick or blow on them, no matter how turned on I am…There are plenty of things that¬†wake them up, you’ve just got to put a little more¬†effort into it.¬† Or not, I’m fine either way… my nipples are in no way a gauge of my enjoyment of the situation.¬† I’m not ever going to be embarrassed about them again because they can take a beating, and that is nothing to hang my head about.¬† You can abuse my boobs for a long time with clothespins, teeth, clamps before I ever get to real pain.¬† And¬†just in case you need them alert in a hurry… grab an ice¬†cube… because for whatever reason, they are sensitive to cold.

I hope all of you have a healthy relationship with your boobs!¬†¬†I wish, like so many other things, I had talked about this with my Husband long before I did.¬† He’s just happy to have VIP-boob-access all the time and I’m happy that, yet again, I can just be me.


Removing clothes

Legs bent to chest

Hands holding down

Tongue, mouth, teeth

Don’t move


Teeth, tongue, mouth

Hands pushing, holding

Stop moving

Pinned hands, pinned legs

Mouth, teeth, tongue


Take a turn

Positions change

Hands freed

Roaming, grasping

Aching to taste

Hands only

Two hands

Bending to taste

Pushed back, held fast


Edge of bed

Grabbing face

Open wide

Thrusting, gagging


Sucking, desperate

Ramming into throat

Slick with spit

More, now

Sucking, licking, choking

Tears falling


Teasing, prepping

Swift entry

Legs up, hand encasing neck

Pounding, rhythmic


Pushing over


No rest


Shallow breathing

Owning, surrendering

Strengthening hands

No mercy

Diving off the cliff again

Always too much

Never enough

Giving over


Relentless pounding

No time, only feeling


Pushed over the brink



Souls and bodies intertwined

Used, adored

Cherished, taken


All that is


For two