The Evil Queen

People talk about me a lot.  Some people say I'm crazy.  Some people think I'm genius.  Some people hate me, others love me.  I suppose I'm blessed to make people feel SOMETHING, as opposed to nothing.  This week I got a message from a woman I used to think was my friend.  The friendship itself has been in a slow, steady decline for some years now, based mostly on the fact that this woman introduced me to Satan, but never wanted me to fall for him, nor him for me.  

She has been furious for years that I "took him away from her".  However, the truth is Satan went where he wanted and when he wanted to go.  He isn't the type of man anyone can take.  He is only to be accepted for who he is, when he is there in front of you.  Loving him is an entirely different issue.  Loving Satan means accepting him for who he is....baby mama llama drama, freakish tendencies, polyamory, and all.  Not some, ALL.  

This week I got a message delivered to me via a 3rd party from this woman.  I'm not sure when she lost the ability to speak for herself and deliver her own words?  When did she become so frightened of me that she found it impossible to approach me?  What exactly have I done to inspire such abject and utter hatred?

The message was something to the effect that "Lilith's evil reign will end when people find out who she really is.  Then her lies and games, and her fantasy world will all finally end."  Before, the string of adjectives people used on me were usually "Cold and uncaring, harsh and unforgiving, a maneating, emasculating she-devil from hell who stabs all her men in the back with a knife and then licks the blade clean."  All that and then some.

I'm really a simple girl, not much artifice for those that know me.  I am loyal to my friends, I love deeply, I hate conflict and prefer to walk away from toxic people.  I don't really care for drama.  At the end of it all I am not affected by these words because they are only issued for the purpose of creating useless drama.  The men and women that I love, and who love me in return have the opinion that this woman has finally gone over the deepest of the deep ends.  It has provided us with much amusement concerning the vitriol of the sentiment.  It also makes me a bit sad though.

To this woman, here is my sentiment back to you:  I wish you nothing but the best in your life.  I wish you to find love, loyalty, caring, and happiness in the people you surround yourself with.  I wish you fun, humor, and imagination in all of your days.  I wish you companionship.  I wish you success in all of your ventures, and I wish you security in your future.

That is my fantasy world.  I very much enjoy living there, and so do many many others.  I hope you can build your own and be happy there too.

One Love,

Lilith

The New Guy, part 2

Now what, indeed?

Atlas and I had a conversation about our expectations.  We both admitted to knowing the rules, not exceeding or breaking them.  We both knew how the game was played.  We weren't going to get caught up.  I didn't want to fall in love, he wasn't available. My world was too precariously balanced to have someone akin to Loki wreaking havoc.  He leaves for Asia in the fall.  It seemed that we understood each other perfectly.  We would have no strings attached fun with each other, that seemed reasonable.

When adding a new lover to the roster, I'm usually very open and honest with Satan.  I know he doesn't like talking about it, doesn't particularly like knowing that I've taken pleasure with another man besides him.  But he is practical enough to understand that waiting on him to be available these days is like waiting for a tax refund.  Agonizing.  My going catch-phrase; "What's good for the goose is good for the gander", are words that make him roll his eyes and say "Whateva".  But the truth remains that after our reunion last year, I made it clear that I was not going to sit on a shelf and wait for him.  I'd see him when I see him, but not let anyone touch my heart.  Somehow, I knew Atlas was different.  I haven't told Satan about him.  I don't want to have that discussion until I have to.  Satan senses it, he's just that intuitive.  He senses my distraction, and I find him calling and texting me to ask where I am, what am I doing.

So where am I and what am I doing?  The answer is I have no idea. 

Atlas and I made plans to meet for a day to have relaxed time together.  Time to ask silly questions to get to know each other.  Time to play with each other without interruption or an audience.  Time to just.....chill.  I found myself extremely nervous the day before, fussing over my clothes and my choice of toenail color.  I was taking extra care with my grooming, even working on my legendary crusty feet to tame them down to simply dry instead of lethal.  Texting him during this furor, I told him it was way easier when I didn't give a shit what he thought.  Yet somehow, I did care what he thought.  I needed to make a good impression so that he liked what he saw.  I felt shy, and a bit discombobulated, and all I knew was that I had to be.....amazing. It was incredibly girly, and as anyone who knows me will say, I hate girly moments with a passion.

After seeing to my errands and finally getting on the road, I received a call from Jachin.  He wanted to know where I was going, who I was seeing, and how long I expected to be out.  I told him I wasn't worried, and he commented "Of course you're not, that's my job".  He was unhappy I was meeting "strange men" and told me I should never go out without telling someone where to find me.  I met him at the rest stop, he gave me money for tolls, I told him where I'd be, and I was off again.  Another conundrum for a different day.

The rain slowed my progress, and I arrived after Atlas did.  I had been so nervous in the morning that I wasn't feeling good, and my stomach was in a knot for most of the drive.  I was concerned that my stomach ache might translate into some unpleasantness, so I didn't eat, I just drank some Crystal Light.  He texted me the room number, and I parked next to him.  I took a moment to just breathe.......

I knocked, he answered...and promptly slammed the door on me.  LOL, ahh it was going to be that kind of day. With his humor, he disarmed me and put me at instant ease.  I brought my bags in, and as I watched him work on his laptop, knowing he had a business call in a few, I took out my laptop and prepared to amuse myself while he worked.  We chatted a bit, and we laughed.  Of all the memories I will carry about him in my life, it will be how much we laughed.  I slyly looked at him over my computer screen.  I find him so beautiful.  His body is in amazing shape, and he has eyes that really look at you when you talk to him.  I can't imagine any woman NOT finding him crazy hot.  I have also found that he is a man that does not say things he doesn't mean.  So far, I find that he says what he means, and means what he says.  He doesn't grandstand, doesn't need to talk endlessly just to hear himself.  He is a careful listener, and he is even more careful at replying, knowing his feedback may not always be rosebuds and unicorns, as he is at heart, a realist.

He climbed onto the bed with me, in a side 69 position, my back to his front, and he stroked his hands up my legs, under my dress, to a pantyless me, which he had requested. His hands, gentle and soft, finding spots front and back that had me panting.  He got to stroking me in earnest and I came for him, almost as though his quiet confidence had simply commanded it without words, and it came into being.  I came and squirted, and he got naked too.  He just stopped playing, it was time for his business call.  I lay at the end of the bed crosswise, while he lounged against the pillows, naked.  As he entered his conference call, I looked at him, looked at his cock, and did the chin up inquiry move. He silently shrugged as if to say, why not?  So I promptly moved between his legs and sucked his cock.

His skin is so velvety smooth, we joke that he feels like kitten paws.  I so love feeling him grow in my mouth, and feeling his gentle yet insistent hand on my head encouraging me to press my lips against his body while his cock goes down my throat and I swallow him.  It excited me to do these things to him while he was conducting business.  And my beast rose with every intention of shattering his self control, except we failed, as he is an incredible challenge to ruffle.  Earpiece intact, he swung himself behind me and fucked me until I squirted on his cock.  Not being able to be vocal during sex is challenging for me, and it heightened the pleasure to an almost painful degree.    He must have sat back and watched me trying to stifle my noise, chuckling, and I heard him say, "Oh, I hung up my call a bit ago, you can make noise now."  BASTARD!!!

Going into detail about the rest of the afternoon seems redundant.  It was a beautiful dream, laced with passionate kisses, ecstasy, and lots and lots of my body fluid.  I lost track of the number of times that I came, just enjoying each small eruption of pleasure as it's own fantastic gift.  I realized that i couldn't do this with him on a regular basis and remain casual. I told him so in an effort to be honest.  He inspired an intensity in me that was difficult to ignore.  It felt like it welled up in my core, and wanted to spew out of my mouth in the form of pretty words and promises. I would not be the conqueror, as I had insinuated in emails to him...I would be the conquered.

He moves me in ways I haven't thought about in a long time.  He makes me feel a little less lonely inside. He makes me want to see what he does during his days, how he walks through the door, how he organizes his kitchen.  He makes me think of long lazy days off spent lounging in bed. He makes me think about walks along the shore talking about everything.  He reeks of the word companion, not simply fuck buddy.  He makes me realize, in the grand scheme of things that I have something I hadn't believed in for a long time....options.

It's been a few days now.  The intensity has started to dissipate, and life in it's routine has re-intruded on my fantasy.  I still text him daily, and am still wondering what the hell happened.  He's made some statements to me that make me wonder what he's about and what it is that he actually wants, and I realize I've spent so much time listening to the double speak of Satan and Jachin that I no longer know how to take someone at their word without copious positive reinforcement about said statements.  I wonder about the men in my life, how I love them, what their role in my life really is. I've been thinking about what I really want, from everyone.

I treasure and value being excited by a man like this again.  It has ignited a fire in me that has been dormant for a long time.  Though I love all the men that play a role in my life, I have worked diligently to kill the penchant for expectation.  If I don't expect anything, ever, I will never be disappointed.  Ergo, I gave up the fire to wish for more.  Perhaps the biggest turn on this man presents to me is that I don't merely look upon him as a tool.  He is more in the great grand scheme than just a guy looking to get his rocks off with little regard to how he does it.  He's discerning, he's picky, he's artful.  And here's the clincher...I'll say it.  He makes me feel like I'm enough to satisfy him.  True or not, I'll think of him fondly for a long time for making me feel that again.  Sharing is fine, but once in a while, it just feels good to be enough for someone.  And I thank him for reminding me that I have the right to expect it, should I choose to.

Where am I and what am I doing?

I still haven't figured it out, and I'm not going to try right now.  I prefer to take the ride and see how the road goes.  Hopefully I'll enjoy the journey, and remember a few more things about who I am and what I have a right to want.

The New Guy

Sometime around late winter/early spring, I decided I was going to actively recruit for my group Whispers.  It was time to get some fresh blood into the group.  We needed new ladies, and we needed new men who could actually perform and take care of the ladies of Nightshade House.  A daunting task indeed.

One of the avenues I chose was a Southern New England BBW group located in Connecticut, but drawing a considerable crowd of both men and women from the metro Boston area.  A woman of my acquaintance who runs her own group had always had luck recruiting men, at least, from the group.  So I bucked up and got ready to be miss Chatty Pants.

Of all my strengths, perhaps my greatest is my ability to communicate effectively both verbally and in writing. Of all my failings, is the the fact that I am wholly intolerant of stupidity and ignorance, and often lack the social grace to just let sleeping dogs lie.  So I joined the group, Ample BBW (www.amplebeauties.com/community), a group that I had actually already been a member of for 5 years, and jumped into the chat room.  The women were hostile immediately, and the men....well, they wanted some cam and pic time.  Mostly.  There were on occasion a few men who got into chatting with the hens, and I found them to be engaging, pleasing to the eye from the photographs they posted, and on a couple of occasions, witty.

Once such man, Atlas, did sign up for the group and chat with me a few times.  I confess that I wasn't very attentive during those early chats, merely cursory and succinct with my replies and conversation.  I didn't hear from him often, and mostly expected him to be a lurker within the group...someone who joins and peeps other people's stuff, but never participates.  On the occasion of our May party, I received a text from him letting me know he'd be attending, and driving up from Mass.  I was really happy that he was coming up, and I found myself very curious about him, remembering that he'd been one of those witty people.  At this stage of my game, interesting is way more attention grabbing than sexual.  Our texts held teasing, and a promise of a sharp intellect.

Occasionally, you meet someone where you click instantly.  The physical aspect is attractive, the chemistry, and the ability to communicate on the same level all exist simultaneously.  It's a powerful aphrodisiac, that combination. Add a certain level of sexual frustration, and a man who shows the promise of ability to sate the need.....you can see how that becomes a bit explosive.  Atlas walked through the door, his aura rather pulsing quietly around him, but his eyes.....  His eyes were playful, and smiling.  His voice held intelligence, humor, and curiosity.  He was a bit taken aback by the whole set up of the house, as I gave him a tour.  But he held a sense of humor, and he had warmth.  I liked trying to shock him, but he would draw me into conversation, and the need to shock gave way to my curiosity about him and his thoughts.  I liked making him laugh.  He made ME laugh.  Oh...and he smelled good. He smelled really, really good.

The reality is that Atlas is a hot guy.  He also has the mental capacity to keep my interest, which is a feat unto itself in my world.  I would value him, if I couldn't have him sexually, simply for his fantastic conversation.  I didn't want to push him into feeling he had to put out that night.  As the night wore on, and we huddled more and more into each other, whispering and snickering like two junior highschool kids under the bleachers, my attraction to him grew.  Lilith had perked up her head to see who this new tasty treat was, and was quickly assessing him on a purely primal level.  She wanted to lick him in long, slow strokes not only just to taste him, but to mark her territory.  And amazingly, he wasn't asking me to share, wasn't trying to dip into every woman at the party.  He was quietly and patiently waiting for it to be over so that he could take me, just the two of us, to bed.

I was wicked nervous.  He was so sure of himself, running his hands over me in slow easy strokes, gentling me like a skittish hawk.  He did all those things that made my breath catch in my throat.  Not just orgasm creating things....no, he did huggy lovey snuggly things.  I became not just the ravenous beast that I have been over the last year.  Lilith was hesitant, altogether unsure of how to respond to such a potent touch.  His breath on my neck, his kiss sipping at my mouth, his hands caressing and holding my breasts like treasures.  It demanded MY response to him, not simply that of my mindless, insistent, demanding beast.  With all those patient and gentle things he did to me, he mastered me more thoroughly in one night than most men have in years.  He shattered me with orgasms, made me squirt for him repeatedly.  He used my mouth for his pleasure, all the while keeping me foremost in my own mind.  He held me like I mattered to him.  Like he would tuck me along side him and keep me safe and cherished.  He was in my head, in my body, and his delicious, beautiful scent wrapped me like a warm blanket.

But hey, wait.  This is supposed to be a casual encounter, right?  WTF??

I left in the wee hours of the morning struggling not to say anything ludicrous or inappropriate.  My innards screamed that he was "home", and leaving him felt so very wrong.  My head said "What the hell just happened here?".  I walked to my car looking at the mist rising over the river.  I drove home a wreck, crawled into bed at 5 am, and passed out vowing to myself to just let it be.  Parties and people happen, and I should stop over-analyzing and just let a dog be a dog.  True?

I couldn't stop thinking about him.  He texted me, and one text became two, then three, then more than I could count in a day, a week, or two, or three weeks.  Every day I became more and more accustomed to having him "In my pocket" for the day.  Each of us greeting each other in the morning, checking in several times during the day, and saying goodnite before we slept.  Every day.  Every. Day.  He crept, more and more, into my head with his observations, his cool logic, his humor, and his caring.  Conversations occasionally veered towards "What are we doing here?" and quickly strayed again.  I realized I was developing a problem where Atlas was concerned....because I no longer knew where the line was when it concerned him.  More of a problem than not knowing where the damn line was, was a dawning realization that I didn't care to really know either.

I liked him.  Now what?