Sunday, June 28, 2009


Bruises courtesy of DC Boy.

I did in fact get laid this weekend, tho not at Dark Odyssey's Leather Retreat. Mainly, I ran around with very few clothes on, and did a lot of naked swimming in the pool. There were very pretty people and very ugly people. I fell in with some people my own age and made friends rather quicker than I think I had anywhere else, and they let me watch a play piercing.

You look sullen, Molly, they told me a while later as I sat in the dungeon and watched the happy pairs of people flogging each other, having threesomes in cages and setting each other on fire. You should go to the strip club. I did, and I saw a woman drink her own pee. "Oh no!" I yelled as I realized what she was about to be doing, Oh yeah! yelled everyone else in the crowd.

You should stay longer, one of the pretty girls told me. Nooo, I thought, I have to leave so I can get laid. So at an ungodly hour I got back on the train and went to DC, where a boy and I hit each other and slept next to each other, so the tale ended happily.

Monday, June 22, 2009

It seems I *can* come to Dark Odyssey this year...

...but it's for one night only!

You may have heard me Twitter about how I couldn't come to camp this year: no money, not enough time, etc. I planned to not get on Twitter that week and ignore the blogs, just so I wouldn't get too jealous of the fun everyone else was having. Instead, the kind folks at DC TNG sent out an email with a massive discount that would allow me to attend...but for one night only: Friday the 26th.

Still, one night is more than I hoped for. (And, based on the stories I've heard, may be quite enough for a camp virgin.) I may even be able to bring a friend with me, but we'll have to see about that.

With my usual immense enthusiam coupled with lack of planning, I'm not entirely positive how I'm going to *get* there yet (a MARC train/cab combination is currently the most possible). If anyone else is coming late to camp and can perhaps give me a ride, I would be much oblidged. (I understand that such a thing is quite unlikely, but thought I would ask anyway because hey, what else are blogs for?) But never fear: where there's a will, I'll find a way.

So, who else is coming?

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Fan Mail

I do not really get a lot of mail. I get several misspelled emails from ardent feedees a month, but I do not quite think of that as mail. And, fortunately, I have yet to receive any hate mail, which means when I do get something it's like Christmas. Seriously, people, I love the sight of an unread email the same way I love the sight of an unopened box with a big bow on top.

Not too long ago I got this one:

i just caught myself up on your blog, its been a few months. Today i realized that i like yours best for an odd reason. Its not because of the fetishes involved, its because there is a human quality that porn and other blogs miss. I like how you doubt yourself. Most dommes are theses unattainable monstrous beauties, but you, youre unsure of yourself at times. i like it. Youre real.

Aww. Bitchy Jones would be proud.

Saturday, June 13, 2009


In kink, there are some things that are possible, some things that should only be executed by someone who's had quite a bit of experience, and some things that you should never, ever do, but for the artistically inclined, can be drawn or written out as fantasies.

With feederism, however, things tend to get rather blurry.

Part of it is that very few people in the "scene" (if you can count the two websites and the fetish profiles on Myspace and YouTube a "scene") has ever watched a real live person stuffing themselves. I don't mean just a boy licking peanut butter off a spoon for my enjoyment, but the "hardcore" stuff where they drink a gallon of ice cream or swallow so many sodas the shape of their bodies changes. You know, the weird stuff. If someone had told me a year ago that there were boys who won prizes to eat 75 hot dogs at a go or shoved air pumps up their asses*, I most likely wouldn't have believed it either.

Thus, when I first heard cyberwhispers of boys drinking coke and then swallowing a mentos, I was positive it was some kind of feedee urban legend. After all, if that combination does this in the outside air

what the hell does it do to you once it was inside your body? BDSM is tame, I thought, looking in the mirror the day after the first time I was slapped during sex and finding nary a bruise. I have to worry about my partners possibly rupturing.

Then again, no one ever said this was the smartest idea for a fetish. I can copy Maymay and take the activism route, complain that, unlike BDSM, feederism is too small and scattered to have cons and classes and produce knowledgeable people to teach how-to's feeding? Really, one must simply question the sense of a lot of ravenous boys going about the world with the one question being uppermost in their minds being, "What would happen if I swallowed *this*?" Such a mentality is bound to end in the same species of shenanigans that results in men coming into the ER at 4 am trapped in various vacuums cleaner attachments.

Then, one day when I wasn't looking for it, I received help from an unexpected source:

The Mythbusters.

They actually use pop rocks rather than mentos, but the basic idea is the same. Because people (unlike rats) can burp, there is small chance of them going kablooie. Bellydu--actually, let's give him a better name, and refer to him as Jake from now on--Jake tried the mentos experiment shortly after this, and what happened? Nothing.

Of course, if you watch all the way through that particular episode, and end up at the credits, you'll see the result when they empty so many sodas into it that the pig's stomach does in fact part at the seams and spray its contents everywhere.

So if you're ever sitting in a bar drinking rum and diet coke, and I offer you a mentos, you'll know what I'm about.

Just don't say you weren't warned.

* Dear God, please don't do this.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Sex 2.0: Pre-Party

I thought I'd never make it to Sex 2.0.

Really, I'd thought I'd never even make it to DC. There had been a serious error in the bus schedule, leaving me scrabbling for an alternative on a weekend when most of my friends had left town and none of my DC acquaintances were willing to help me out. After shelling out $30 for a taxi, I arrived at my friend's house 4 hours later than I had planned, exhausted and dusty. 30 minutes later I was off again when I received text messages indicating that Jefferson was still awake and, presumably, fucking. But there was always something, and this time I had seriously underestimated the time it took to travel across what seemed to be the entirety of DC.

Why am I doing this? I wondered several times as I struggled to follow Google's directions in an unfamiliar city at 11:00 at night, and couldn't come up with anything except that listening to Charlaine Harris' Horny Vampire Novels for a week had done me in. The thought of so many sex bloggers in such close proximity forced me to press on even when I knew how unreasonable it was to expect an open-arms welcome from people I barely knew. The closer I got, the later it got, and I felt my chances of being fucked decrease exponentially.

But when I finally arrived at the hotel, I discovered I hadn't missed the party at all. Jefferson was outside with two women, Elle Lumpesse and Domina Doll, and he was making out with the latter.

"I see you didn't waste any time," I snarked, but Jefferson looked so happy that I felt it melting away almost immediately. He led the way to the Brownies and Porn party, which was several floors up. Along the way we met Lolita Wolf in her PJs, but that's a story for another post. Within ten minutes of my arrival, I found myself in a suite where hardcore pornography was playing on two TVs and at least 30 people who I had never met were already deep in loud conversation. They were all older than me, there were two girls who were much prettier than me, and I had no idea how to break into the cacophony. Jefferson did his best to make introductions, but in minutes was distracted by a boy who had come to Sex 2.0 out of curiosity. Hey, I heard Jefferson saying, isn't this ice cream? Can we feed you ice cream? Where's Molly? Jefferson pulled the boy's shirt over his head, revealing a perfectly rounded tummy that wouldn't have looked out of place on the Myspace profiles I'd jacked myself off to in the past year. "Excuse me," I said to the person nearest, and went into the other room.

There were only three people in it, quietly watching porn. One of them was Match--I recognized him from his Flickr photos.

Too much? Match inquired. He was in a brown bathrobe that made him look like a monk.

Yes, I said. I peeped in the other room and Jefferson waved a dripping spoon at me. I shook my head. "Wait ten minutes," I said, and then I'll be in the thick of things again, you'll see.

"What are they doing?" Match was worried, since he had to sleep in the bed that people were committing unknown acts with ice cream on, and I decided to use that as my cue.

"Hey peeps, don't get ice cream on the bed!" I yelled, and the answering laughter gave me enough courage to go back in. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Blowing this boy with ice cream," said Jefferson matter of factly. He was straddling the young man's hips and working his uncut dick with his hands. The boy's shirt was pushed up, and his naked belly was shiny with melted ice cream and littered with chocolate and cherry pieces.

"In the beginning he had chocolate chips in his pubes," said Furrygirl. "It was cute". The bed was crowded. The boy's hand was being cradled by Furrygirl (to keep him from becoming gay, she teased him) and she in turn was leaning up against a second boy. And that was only one half of the bed. She pointed out to Jefferson that he had some chocolate on his face, and he wiped it off, saying, Isn't this awesome?

"I thought you were straight?" the boy asked Jefferson.

"Oh, I was until I met you!" exclaimed Jefferson in a voice so redolent with feather boas that I stared. How the hell could anyone ever think he was straight, I wondered in disbelief. That a man known primarily for his skill in finding women's G-spots would constantly set off my gaydar was one of the many things about him that had been unexpected. Though I had been reading his blog for a year, if you added up all the face time we spent together, it was probably no more than 8 hours.

I was still racked by nerves, but the scene he had started was something I could get into. I knelt by the bed. "If I hold your other hand", I told the boy, "it would really keep you from becoming gay. And if I kissed you", I added, "it would make it even better."

He made out with me well enough, though I don't think he really liked it. "Is he your boyfriend?" he asked when we we parted lips, and it took me a second to realize he meant Jefferson. My surprised expression made him add a list of other relationship names, which made this all sound way too serious.

"Fangirl?" I attempted. I watched Jefferson work the boy's cock with his mouth, tried again. "Jefferson's the only pervert I know."

"Aw," said Furrygirl in sympathy.

Even though the boy hadn't come, Jefferson stopped and tucked the boy's cock away, telling him he had very much enjoyed sucking it. Then he tried to kiss him, but the boy turned his head away. Undaunted by this rejection, Jefferson went to get a towel to wipe the boy's belly down with, explaining that, just like at the gym, you had to wipe down your machine when you were through. Newly cleaned, the boy got off the bed and I jumped into the vacant spot, hoping for similar attentions, but Jefferson was already talking to someone else.

After a while Jefferson began playing with my hair, gripping it in a knot and moving it from side to side. This was fine until he started doing other things. "What are you doing?" I sputtered as he squeezed my cheeks betwen his forearms.

"Playing with your face," he told me.

I gave up on the idea of Jefferson fucking me that night and talked to the cute boy sitting next to me about computer programs. Suddenly Jefferson had me by the crook of my knee, and what I thought was an inarticulate request for me to move over so he could sit on the bed devolved into him pushing me onto my back, pulling me around so my crotch was in easy reach and and skinning off my tights and panties. "Hi, Molly," said Furrygirl as my head ended up by her feet.

"Hi," I managed to say as Jefferson pushed my legs above my head. The boy behind Furrygirl handed him a condom.

"Magnums?" said Jefferson in disbelief, "I dunno what stories you've been hearing!"

"Jefferson has a real cock!" I said, proud that I spoke from experience and then immediately regretting my words in case there were some naturally endowed men in the room that would feel left out.

Jefferson agreed that his was indeed a normal cock. And speaking of penises, he said, you should look at the one my friend has here-- and motioned to Furrygirl, who opened her legs. Since I was right by her feet and she wasn't wearing any panties, I found myself in prime position to gaze upon the most beautiful bush I had ever seen. The hair was thick, lustrous, and dark, much closer than my own, and beautifully shaped between her thighs.

It's pretty, I said, making the understatement of the year. In fact it was so pretty I had no idea what to say next and turned back to Jefferson to hide the dazed look that I was sure was spreading over my face. I had no idea what orientation Furrygirl was, and she didn't seem to be ready to play, having designated herself the Safe Sex Fairy. She squirted a dollop of the lube Match had put on the bedside table onto Jefferson's hand so that he could better work it up inside me, for in spite of all this cock talk, Jefferson kept his jeans on.

Not that I was at all disappointed. "Oh yeah," I said, spreading my thighs wider as he entered me with his fingers on the bed in the middle of a crowd of people, "oh yeah, I remember this!" The first and last time Jefferson had done this was at the orgy three months ago, and, though I don't think he had been unnecessarily rough, I remembered it as intense more than pleasurable. This time I felt the wetness come, and I began to understand how this might become something I could get off on. Jefferson made an appreciative sound as my pussy began to make wet noises.

"No, stop!" I yelped at Jefferson nipped at my belly with his teeth.

He was annoyed with me. "It's just a love bite--"

"You can't leave marks," I said, "tomorrow I'm meeting this boy for the firrrrsssttt---"

I didn't get to say the last word because Jefferson was picking up the pace. Does he know you like this? he said, pressing down on my belly, does he know you're a slut that likes to get fucked in front of all these people? and I arched my back with the truth of all these things and the feeling of his fingers forced inside me.

"How many is that?" I gasped. "Three?"

"Four," said Jefferson. "And that's the beginning of five."

"Fisting?" asked someone (I think it may have been Jack).

Five started to hurt, so I reluctantly asked him to stop. We knocked teeth accidentally when he tried to kiss me better. "With you it always hurts," I pouted, and we kissed again.

In our play we had naturally moved around, but when you'd think we would have moved forwards, Jefferson had actually gotten so close to the edge of the bed that he slipped off and ended up sitting in the space between the bed and the wall. There was much hilarity. I gave him my hands to help him pull himself up and used my leverage to pull him down on top of me instead. "I wasn't planning to go here!" he grinned. But he must not have minded because he stayed. Before I had come here I had fashioned--and hinted at--all kinds of rough fantasies, but right now this was exactly what I wanted. They were hello kisses, welcome back kisses. I wrapped my legs around him and crossed my ankles over the small of his back, squeezing him. "You taste like the boy you blew earlier," I whispered in his ear.

Jefferson grinned at me. "That's the ice cream talking," he said.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Thanks for Being Awesome

I'm not popular enough for people to start complaining when I don't post, but nevertheless, it's been a while. Hardly had I returned from Sex 2.0 when I was struck down so thoroughly by a undiagnosed malady that I ended up in the hospital, and it was another week before I felt myself again. Thus, everything got pushed back for longer than I care to think about, and I never got to write to the awesome people I got to meet and listen to, such as Maymay, Essin' Em, Furrygirl, Jack Stratton, Match, Mollena, and many more. Even tho in some cases I only got to say hi, y'all are cool people and it was great to finally see the faces behind the computer screen! :)

Another thing that happened while I was gone from the blogosphere was that Jefferson wrote about me. Sex blogs are places to be naked, so I will admit that ending up on One Life Take Two has been one of my blogging goals for a while, second only to making out with an Andy Warhol look alike and getting Fleshbotted. Some stuff we remember entirely differently, some stuff was embarrassingly spot on, and some of it I think he made up. Go read it!

Really, between that and Fleshbot I could stop the blog right here, but of course I won't: blogging is my crack, and I still have many more Sex 2.0 posts in the works covering the good, the bad, and the foolhardy exhibitionism. As they used to say on the old adventure serials: dear reader, stay tuned.