Lolita

It's 5 million and 2 zillion fantasy night.

I just finished writing a 6-page re-telling of how I lost my virginity for a woman who is seeking stories for a compilation. The compilation was initiated as a concept for her 14-year-old daughter. She wants to communicate to her that losing one's virginity won't wreck one's life forever - no matter how it happens. I suggested she make a book and seek a publisher if she gets some good stories (FYI: she is looking for people under 50 to tell theirs, from all over the world, gay or straight or whatever, so if you want to write yours - in anonymity or full-on disclosure - let me know).

But now I'm moving into thinking about bdsm stories. I could go over a long list of what I’ve done and just stay there, but I want to dream about what could be (or might just be in my mind) - and explore why.

The first one that comes up most strongly is the little girl. I can imagine being asked about why I like the Daddy/little girl scenario or age play or older/younger theme. I saw a woman a little bit younger than me on the metro today. She sat opposite her older-looking boyfriend and at one point reached across to him and straightened his scarf and zipped his jacket. A gesture of love, caring, or overbearing I have no idea. But for me, I just couldn't imagine doing that. Not to say I haven't done it before, because I have. But I don't want to do it anymore. Sure, if there were a huge spider on his lapel or a tag sticking out, I might want to readjust the situation by brushing it off or tucking it under, but I wouldn't purposefully "straighten him out" as such. Instead, I feel better being the object of that love, caring, overbearing correction. That's a part of it, I suppose.

Another part of it has to do with my eternal youth. People have always said I look about 6 years younger than I am. I've always gone after adventure, explored, loved learning, longed for being taken care of (in doses), needed to be disciplined by someone else, strived to make people happy (while balancing the "I could care less what you think of me" self-confidence), looked up to wise people and craved their knowledge, adored older men, sought approval or recognition for good deeds (although I also do good things for the sake of doing them), and have always retained a curiosity and spontaneity that mirrors the recklessness and eagerness of youth. I am not helpless or sick mentally. I am not weak or lazy. I don't have an unhealthy adoration of my own father.

I own about 20 girlie panties. Ones with cherries, birdies, cartoon characters like Cookie Monster, little poodles with words "pretty girl," Supergirl styles, etc. I usually wear thongs for daytime activities, and then come home and immediately get into a pair of the girlie ones. If I'm lazy and have to run to the store, I might keep them on. I've tried to incorporate them in sexual liaisons or play dates, although this wasn't very often, and never in the past two years. It's not just the comfort factor, because I could pick plain, big lady panties if I wanted that. Instead, I like them because they feel good, are super cute, love what they imply, and can't wait to be able to wear them freely with someone someday!

I can imagine sitting in my Hello Kitty panties, and wearing one of my kid tee-shirts (my favorite is pink, has the dot candy on it, and says DOTS in big letters over my boobies). Maybe I'm on a cozy blanket on the floor. Maybe I'm baking cookies, using my fingers to mash or roll the dough. Maybe I'm at the kitchen table zoned in on a Crayon drawing. Maybe I'm over a knee getting a spanking for doing something bad. Maybe I'm exploring my private parts. Maybe I'm watching Sesame Street and learning my alphabet. Maybe I'm in a sundress on a swing at the playground. Maybe I'm sleepy and brushing my teeth while getting ready for beddy bye. Maybe I'm playing a game of Scrabble with my Daddy.

Sundresses. I love girlie clothes - for particular moments and mostly in the summer. I do love wearing skirts, although in school or work life I prefer pants and jeans. But in those right moments, I love dressing like a little girl. I have several pairs of knee-high socks that I wear all the time and most of my woman dress shoes are based around the Mary Jane style. ... Ha! I'm twirling my finger around one of my pigtails right now.

I'm not sure if there's a certain age I fall into when feeling girlie. I have a pacifier that I picked up in the infant aisle of a store - it says "I love Daddy." I wanted to buy a plush blanket and some of the toys, but didn't. I did own a rubber ducky vibrator when I had a bathtub, and love bubble baths. I used a Sponge Bob toothbrush for a while, and used a sippy cup (although they’re so damn small for drinking enough liquids). I've never worn adult diapers but I'd consider it - for pee play, but I've never been interested in poopie. I don't imagine being able to "goo-goo" as my only language. So, I don't think I fall into an adult-baby role per se.

I'm also not too attracted to behaving like a sexually-charged teenager, because I associate that more with rebellion and seeking independence, both of which I'm not eager to engage in or exaggerate. I was this for many years beyond teen years. As a punk rocker in my 20's, I'd wear short plaid skirts, a thong, and boy boxers, combat boots and tight tank tops. I did this to great effect and affect. I have dressed up as a Catholic school girl for many Halloweens. I'm still into the dress-up factor, but I'd rather be somewhere where I can play in a sandbox, revel in finding new bugs, learn about new ideas, be creative without being conscious of it, and still have disciplinary rules upon me. (Basically, take those elements and grow them up and you'd have me now: still interested in getting messy, adventurous, exploratory, creative, and imposing my own discipline.)

This doesn't necessarily translate into something sexual, but there is an element that I like to incorporate. No, I was never sexually abused or taken advantage of as a kid - neither by my father, other relatives, or strangers. In fact, I was the instigator many times in sexuality exploration with other kids. I was the "boy" in play with a girl friend when we were eight years old -- on top of her and humping like we knew what we were doing. I asked a boy to show me his and I'd show him mine. I'd never really, deeply played with this girlie side within a sexual context. Some lovers might have taken care of me on a certain level, but only a few dared to go into a space where they'd actually focus on me being a little girl and them being older. Two in particular come to mind. One, a vanilla lover, was turned on when I opened the Pandora's box and he saw me - my body - looking like a 16-year-old's and how hot that was. A dom I played with who was twenty-years my senior got into it with me and even went so far as to make me promise not to tell anyone, not mommy, not anyone at school.

At first, I found it silly. I'm a grown woman, and I'm conscious of wanting this but felt ridiculous acting it out. Also, with others my age, I couldn't quite grasp the idea that I could be girlie, under their care or instruction or seduction. And with the dom, I did find it titillating but I wasn't sure I wanted the whole "secrecy" thing - don't tell anyone. I do recall replying back to him though, "I promise not to tell anyone. Am I better than Mommy? I want to be better than Mommy."

So, from here where? I have enjoyed going to sleep with a lover and gently sucking on his cock as a pacifier. I definitely can imagine doing it again. I'd love to get fully into the little girl Lolita. Pigtails, panties, tee-shirt and no bra, a sundress or tomboy jeans. I could make some fingerpaint art for my daddy, beg for bedtime stories, clean up my room in twenty minutes flat, be left alone to play with my smarty pants mind toys, or help take care of any of daddy's owies or needs. I wanna have lollipops, an’ cereal every morning, and an apple a day keeps the doctor away, watch cartoons, go for bike rides, look at birds in the forest, be silly, draw faces on my hand with a purple pen, make birthday cakes, go to the zoo, learn new star names at the planetarium, watch worms in the mud, take baths and scrub behind the ears, meet other little girls and boys, get big pushes in the swing, go sledding down big hills, drink hot cocoa, paint my nails with bright pinks, get bruises and push on 'em, pick at my scabs, wear elephant band aids, drink juice out of my sippy cup, and ask daddy any question I have even if it's naughty.

Yup. That’s what I want. Uh huh.

Oh, and teddy bears and big hugs. I wanna watch scary movies and close my eyes real tight. I wanna chase the pigeons and catch butterflies. Wanna write letters to Santa Claus and try to find four-leaf clovers. Wanna learn how to cook and be careful of fire. Wanna have chores to do like washing dishes or taking the garbage out. Wanna listen to “Free To Be, You and Me” and sing real real loud. Wanna help Daddy fix things and learn how they work. Uhmmmm… What else? Hmmmm… Want Daddy to help me pick out the right clothes and tell me if it’s gonna be real cold or real warm out today. Wanna wanna hmmm…. Be a good girl for sure. Yeah. I think that’s it for today.

(To see the images in larger size, you need to have viewing access to my Flickr pix.)

A nice reminder

Because I was just re-reading my Alt.com profile and wondering if I'm turning into a spanko.

My Testimonials
SirKeithD
Apr 2, 2007
lolita is totally beautiful on so many levels that it's difficult to use only words. She is more physically beautiful than her pics suggest, more insightful and intelligent than her profile suggests, has an especially sexy voice, smells great and tastes delicious!!

She's honest and considerate, and appropriate (i.e., a Lady when called for, and a GFE just when you hope so).

An exhilarating woman for any man to know, especially the more so for an experienced Dominant jaded by the vacuousness of so much of cyber.

This woman is not for the amateur, if your ready, she is that higher level that is calling.

Five stars.

The moments in between

=====JSmith wrote=====
... I would appreciate you to tell me story occasionally...




=====lolita wrote=====
I write better stories when someone gives me a theme. I usually tell better stories when it's fact rather than fiction. But I do sometimes invent interesting bed time stories.

What's your art?




=====JSmith wrote=====
Hello again,
could you write me a sweet bed time storie, a variant around this girl Nabokov once called Lolita ?
I photography sometimes

au revoir...




=====lolita wrote=====
Well, that's a very lovely but naughty story of an older man who loved a very young girl. A titillating tale with passion, obsession, and young, gentle skin. Maybe you'd like to know what happens when she grows up, or maybe you want me to tell you about a lovely day they shared once in Paris?


xo
Lola




=====JSmith wrote=====
What a striking beginning of your story... To sleep well, I need to know more. What happened that very day in Paris ?

xx




=====lolita wrote=====
Well, she was a very lucky little girl to have Humbert Humbert bring her all the way to Paris, where the chocolate is like pure pillows melting on her tongue and the city lights brighten every little girl's eyes like stars on fire.

That day they woke up in a big, soft bed with a thick feathery blanket and they let just their eyes peek out over the covers, revealing only wrinkles as each made a giddy grin. They kept their smiles secret from the morning sun and just hints to each other. Humbert couldn't help but trickle his hand over to her soft, warm, small thigh. And Lolita couldn't help but open her eyes wide in giggly surprise, faking shock but also delightfully ticklish with butterflies in her tummy. Eyes watching eyes, he moved his hands along her peach fuzz leg while she giggled all nervous and excited for the big adventure.

.....




=====JSmith wrote=====
Hello... I would really like to know what happens next...

xxx




=====lolita wrote=====
Humbert's hand had a mind of its own, while Lolita, wrapped nicely in her long dressing gown, laid buried under the thick, soft blanket. He very slowly rolled onto his side so as not to frighten her. His fingers glided up her thin thigh, brushing the night gown lace upwards as he moved. Loli's mouth relaxed from her giggle. A muscle in her forehead contracted to raise one eyebrow ever so slightly, naked to the eye, but revealing an ounce of apprehension mixed with one sigh of relaxation.

It wasn't the first morning they had woken up together. Nor was it the first time Humbert had played spider with his hand, gently tickling up to the elastic band on her knickers. Each of these rounds of intimacy brought a pulse of fear within her gentle body. A drop of nervousness from her soft tongue. Swallowing the pooled butterflies, down to her tummy, sending them racing up and down her pale skin, speeding like a boat on rough seas through her blue sky veins.

His caresses also signaled the anticipation of 'the special tingles' and 'angel bells,' as she had described it to Humbert. His left hand on her right hip. His right on her taut belly, lifting the knickers. His eyes half-opened with adoration and hunger. She felt the angel bells now as her tummy contracted with tickles and a small gush of honey kissed her lips. He made a gentle question, "Mmm?" And she answered by barely lifting her small buttocks from the bedsheet. Her dainty hands at her sides, lifting her from the bed. A slight breeze between the open sheets cooled down her arms to her wrists.

Humbert wanted to tug quickly, but knew better. His Loli Dolly liked to go slow, no surprises, just gentle Daddy kindness. He leaned upwards and slid the knickers over Lolita's bent knees. This pulled the fluffy bed cover upwards like a tent and inched it downwards to reveal Loli's tender neck and smooth collar bone. He slipped the knickers over her toes, took them in a hand, and planted a gentle kiss on the curve of her neck.

Humbert's breath hovered over her neck, just under her earlobe. A bare breathing of morning, last night's cigarette, and this minute's lust warmed her neck, sending ripples down to her special spot.

Lolita's body slow-danced to the gentle tempo of the forefinger on Humbert's right hand as he made circles just above her pubis. Her right hand, still at her side, felt Humbert's heat.

latest photos and girl love

I posted the humiliating photos from Lola's flash at the Soiree Blanche. It wasn't like it was some professional party, but it probably wasn't completely appropriate for me to flash my tits. You can see this in my friend's look of horror captured at the same time. Then again, I wasn't caught naked with someone not my husband like some others were. These photos have given me pause to wonder if I should just keep the 32-year-old tits inside my bra. Maybe I'm too old, they're too old.

I also posted copies of a polaroid I found pre-move to Paris. I'm twelve years old and posing in an -ahem- provocative way. It's 1 of a series of me and my girl friend. By the fireplace I can tell we lived in Texas at that time. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to post the polaroids of her. I guess we were just playing dress-up for the day but this one came out rather, well, telling.

I'm also about to post some from the other night in Berlin. A few of us students went up there for a conference and stayed for vacation days. We joined our colleague to go to a goth party. He'd attended the Berlin Masters program and then transferred to our Paris Masters and I guess he'd extended the invite to his other colleagues and they never joined him to a goth party. Perhaps we're a bit more adventuresome. I have to admit I hesitated, wondering mostly if I'd / we'd 'fit in' at the scene. I remember becoming extremely fed up with the punk scene in Minneapolis - they were supposed to be punks who accepted and embraced any people of alternative life choices/styles but instead it felt more like a constant judgement of who was more punk. Bleh. The goth party was quite the opposite though - at least, I didn't feel judged in any way. Although I did feel drunk and wild. At one point I chatted briefly with 2 women in the bathroom since English is the universal language of choice - a German woman, a Polish (I think?), and me the American. (In Paris, all would have been forced to use French - a slight difference between the French and German cultures.) So, somehow this lovely German woman asked my colleague/the host about me and somehow she and I ended up making out the rest of the night, which felt like 70 hours but was probably just 3 or so.

It's funny, I had a variety of reactions to this whole hook-up. I was pretty drunk since I chose to drink whiskey on the rocks (always a bad idea, I know I know). But I was also in vacation-wild mode where anything can go. At points I felt like I had to be the masculine half of our duo, and the top half as we both identify as bottoms (this I learned from my colleague who basically translated the whole night for us). At points, when she'd go off to the bathroom or something, I'd half freak out to my other colleagues there that I really wasn't sure what I was doing, etc. The last time I had a girl make-out was probably about 5 years ago during the waiting tables at the Orpheum / pdh relationship / Jen Bunny wildness. Or, maybe it was at the spin-the-bottle portion of bd's party in '03/'04. I didn't really make on chicks while James and I dated.. did I, honey? Pipe in if I'm wrong here.

A part of me thinks I look less feminine since I cut my hair. It's not that I'm afraid of being bisexual or afraid of making on chicks (though you all know I'm totally not into going down - a bit more whiskey that night and I very well might have just for old time's sake), but I am absolutely terrified of losing guy possibilities if they peg me as solely a lesbian. And I certainly don't want my colleagues boxing me into that category and since they don't know me well, I felt I had to clarify a bit in my drunken state. So part of me freaked out. And part of me loved her lips and her hips and her skin-tight dress and biting her bottom lip and pinching her nipples and god, she smelled exactly like my old ex-girlfriend the stripper. [I can't link to this story right now, sorry, but briefly: 1999, last year of college I dated a stripper and her husband, we went to Vegas on a trip, played around with bdsm, he started to want to see me more than I felt was a good idea, she wanted to do more girlie things than I thought were a good idea so we broke it off.]

The cute German and I made out a bit, I got a bit wild on her, she was a bit shocked, we danced, I bought her a drink, I danced with my colleagues, and it was like 4am and we had to leave. She wanted my contact info and I kept pointing to my Berlin colleague that he had it and saying I'd love to go home with her but I had to go. There was just no way I would have been able to go home together, waking up next to her would have blown my mind more than I could handle at that time. I went to get my coat from the coat check and found she had followed me there for one last dramatic kiss. Oh, right, by the way, she was 23 so maybe that explains quite a bit about this whole story. Me, feeling like the old, experienced, dyke chick and her as the young, eager, experimental bi girl. Yeah. I had to go back to the hostel with my colleagues.

Right. So, those photos will be up in a little bit. I thank my Berlin colleague tremendously for even taking photos because, you know, I had beer goggles on and really wasn't sure the next day if she was hot or not. The photos prove it. Quite the night for sure. Quite the night.

I am my father's daughter

She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo... Lee... Ta.