Lolita Wolf's Predictions & Predilections

Gee, I hate this squabble and will not waste my breath or my typing to discuss it. It’s just ridiculous already. If you aren’t familiar with this tired old debate, just look here or type it into Google for a variety of links.

A while back, a titleholder sat down with me. We went through the niceties and I asked about what she was doing with the title – yadda yadda – and she told me she was talking to newbies – yadda yadda. And then she dropped this statement, “My Sir and I do not play safe.”

What the hell was she talking about? I had to ask, “What do you do that’s not safe?”
“We’re not SSC; we’re RACK.”

Well, that just had to be the stupidest thing I ever heard. This SSC vs RACK debate has just gotten into being another way for people to do one-upmanship, a way for some people to draw some dividing line that makes them more edgy, more special, more extreme, more fierce, more whatever than everybody else. I’m over it.

And what am I? SSC or RACK? I’m Lolita. Just talk to me. We’ll find something that makes us both hot.

So, Squirrel shows up early. We sat and talked about all sorts of stuff. It was comfortable. But I really wanted to take Squirrel’s cock out and get my mouth around it right away. I don’t know if there is any etiquette out there for threesomes, but I figured it would be rude to start without Don Quixote.

When DQ arrives, I am relaxed yet amazed that here I am with these two totally hot hunky men. A little more talk and then the action just flows. It was very Hakuna Matata (it means no worries). And I finally get my mouth on Squirrel’s cock. As I try to get the whole thing down my throat (it’s so big), he grins and says, “There’s a rumor that only men know how to suck cock…” Good, I think, he likes what I am doing. We all strip and go into the bedroom.

Some threesomes don’t work. It’s like sometimes I am not sure what I am supposed to be doing. But this one was on autopilot. There were all sorts of combinations of hands, cocks, asses, balls, cunt and mouths and it was all good. We would go at it, relax a while and then start again. And I am pretty darn sure everybody got what they wanted. I know I did.

I sent Don Quixote an email, “Are you interested in a threesome with him?” I included a link.

It was someone he knew and he noted that he had never heard the Squirrel talk about girls.

“DQ, gay men who have sex with girls never talk about it, because all the other guys would say ‘Ewww!’ Or maybe he doesn’t do sex with girls and it would be a new experience for him – like I could be a novelty. Less scary in a threesome with another guy. I dunno.”

Despite DQ’s skepticism, he agreed to my asking the Squirrel. So, I sent him an email asking about a threesome and he responded with enthusiasm.

Yikes! Now what would I do? I thought about my dog. My dog was a retriever type, a hunting dog. One of her favorite activities was chasing squirrels. She would run after them so fast, but they would always get away up a tree. A few times she almost caught one, but they all got away. I really could not imagine what she would have been able to do with a squirrel if she had ever caught one. It was probably best that she never did. (And now you know why I am calling this guy the Squirrel.)

So, I got back to DQ and told him that the Squirrel said yes. I was still a bit panicky, “But, now, what do I do?”
“You negotiate.”
“OK, time and place. But, really anything else I hate to negotiate. Ugh!”
“You have to negotiate something.”
“Okay.”

Then DQ said, “I am a bit surprised by this threesome.”
“Whaddya mean? I asked you about it before I asked the Squirrel.”
“Yes, I know. Of course. But I am still surprised.”
“Wait a second. We spoke from the very beginning when I asked you to be my fuckbuddy about the possibility of threesomes. It’s in my fuckbuddy guidelines”

Oh my! I have fuckbudy guidelines. RTFM Hee!

“Well, I just figured you meant a threesome with Jefferson.”
“Jefferson? I don’t even think he is your type. Wait until you meet him. Eventually you guys will meet.”

So, I wrote to the Squirrel:
“We’re not all that big on negotiation because it sets up expectations and we would really rather just get together and see what’s comfortable for everybody. DQ and I are pretty comfortable with each other but still exploring. Basically if there’s anything we want to do, we just say what we want and agree to do it. If there is anything that is uncomfortable, we say so and we either change what we are doing or we just stop. It’s really informal. Do you like that?”

He did. And we made a date.

You know how you go away on a vacation and meet someone and you hit it off and share special times with them? And then when you try to reconnect in the city, the magic is gone?

That’s what I thought it would be like with me and Jefferson. Just a summer fling. When I saw him leave Dark Odyssey with that hot pink parachute cord collar around his neck, I never thought we would still be fuckbuddies in 2007. Yet here we are still enjoying each other.

Last month Jefferson finally finished writing up the Dark Odyssey experience in his blog. There are 21 posts in all including a lot of juicy stuff about his adventures with me. He’s gathered them all together for easy chronological reading at a dedicated blog. You know what’s really wild? I am somehow mentioned in every single post even if that particular post is not about me. Cool!

I have also kept in touch with and gotten together with Viviane. She’s my BlogMommy. You may wonder what a BlogMommy does. I am not really sure, but she fiddles with my blog and gets me some really good results. One of the things she has done is gathered all of our Dark Odyssey posts together so that they can be reviewed all at once. It’s a regular Rashomon where you can read the same stories posted from various points of view.

When Black Rose in DC booked my Mummification class for January 23, they anticipated that the State of the Union would be Jan 30, but it’s now been announced for Jan. 23. BR meets at the Hyatt on Capitol Hill and no one wants to go near there on days like that.So, we are now working on rescheduling – probably for April. Bah!

And now, I will be in NYC. I can think of a few things to do here.

Readers have been asking about New Years Eve and how it went. I had written about the angst and I had written about the donut. They want to know how it all went with DQ.

It was great. For everybody. From the moment DQ walked in the door. The guy is a regular chick magnet and was surrounded by naked girls and nearly naked girls the whole time. It’s good that I like to share with my friends.

He was supposed to do just Saturday night but wound up being with us both nights. Perfect!

January 10 – NYC
TES Novice SIG: teaching “How To Be A Greedy Pig – the 101 version”

January 23 – Washington, DC
Black Rose: teaching “King Tut’s Kink – Mummification!”

January 27 – NYC
Master And slaves Together (MAsT) Bar Night at 9th Ave Saloon. I’ll be selling raffle tickets.

January 30 – Farmingdale, Long Island
LI Leather ‘N Roses: teaching “Power Flogging”

Mar 16-18 – Chicago, IL
Sinsations in Leather: teaching TBA

April 5-8 – San Francisco, CA
International Ms Leather: teaching two classes TBA and emceeing Celebrity Auction

May 4-6 – Cleveland, OH
Smartfest: teaching “How To Be A Greedy Pig” plus one other

May 19 – Boston, MA
MOB: teaching TBA

June 16 – New York City
Leather Pride Night: I am coordinating volunteers

June 17 – NYC
Folsom Street East

June 20-25 – Northeaster MD
Leather Retreat: I am coordinating programming

July 20-22 – Denver, CO
Thunder In The Mountains 10th Anniversary: I am teaching

Three weeks before New Year’s I got a craving for Entenmann’s Chocolate Frosted Donuts. Every time I went into the grocery store, there they were. I wanted one, but they come eight in a box. Any time I bought a box of eight, it was a disaster because I would eat eight donuts. I wanted one, but I resisted.

My Daddy came to town and, I swear, without prompting, she was drawn to the box of Entenmann’s Chocolate Frosted Donuts. “We don’t really need those, Daddy.” I saw her wavering, wanting. And I did not want to say no to my Daddy. And I really wanted one, too. “Well, if you really want them, we can buy them, but we really don’t need them.” Part of me wanted her to not resist and to get them. And part of me wanted her to definitely not get them. Daddy left town without experiencing any Entenmann’s. But I can say she had amazing food while she was here.

So, I woke up New Year’s morning, kicked one person out of bed and had sex with the other. Afterwards, I stumbled into the living room, still naked. There were two girls on the air mattress, the girls only air mattress. I slithered like an eel in between them and cuddled.

And then I saw it. Right there next to the bed. I could not believe my eyes. A box of Entenmann’s chocolate covered donuts. It was like manna from heaven. Nobody knew about my recent little obsession with them. Where did they come from? I dunno. But the next thing I knew there was one in my hand.

I held it and looked up at it. And then I sunk my teeth into it. My eyes closed as I concentrated on it. The chocolate broke under my teeth. The donut was fresh and perfect. I ate it slowly and savored every bite. Did you know when you get to the hole it’s more intense? This donut made me very happy.

And, now, I can’t believe I wrote an entire post about a donut. I am crazy.

I walked in the door and there was Vi. She greeted me with a hug and a kiss. Her first question was, “How’s your sex life?”

That was a surprise. It’s not a question that she usually asks. “Great!” I responded, “I even had a fantastic threesome last night.”

“I’ve been working on it, you know. I’ve got something on my alter just for you.”

That’s so wild. Being a jaded New York Jew, I don’t usually give a lot of credence to the woo woo stuff. But Mama Bear had been working on it, too. Maybe there is something to it after all.

However, I’ve been working on all of this myself, too. It’s not like I haven’t been taking some crazy leaps of my own. These things don’t just happen if you just sit there and wait. I’ll just figure that it’s a combination of things.

Thanks, Vi! Thanks, Mama Bear! I’m grateful for the help.

Almost everybody suffers through the holidays. Family strife, money woes, shopping, cooking and baking, sending out cards. It’s just too much all at the same time. And everybody commiserates about it. But for some of my friends, the misery of the Christmas season can’t hold a candle to the absolute angst of New Year’s Eve. Like you, I am reading all the happy stories online about people ringing in the New Year. And the stories ranged from the dance and kiss at midnight to the load of spunk shot down a lover’s throat just as the ball dropped.

But for many of my unpartnered friends, the angst begins weeks ahead of NYE. They’re panicked because they have no date. They can’t or don’t want to go to any of the parties alone. They’re not sure where they can go or what they can do. Sitting home alone is even worse. One single friend got an invitation to a party followed by an email 15 minutes later saying the invitation was a mistake and that it was a couples only party and that they would just invite them to their next party.

So while we read and hear all about the NYE adventures of our partnered friends, our unpartnered friends are pretty quiet. A lot of them are embarrassed. As if being single is a shameful thing or a sign of failure. I hate that it is that way. And, ya know, I’ve been there.

I remember breaking up with that lying stinking bastard in 1992 just before NYE. I had an invite to the hottest party in the Northeast, Mir and Tony’s party, a fancy all-couples affair. I was determined not to sit home and not desperately scramble to find a date. I brought Bebe (my stuffed bondage bear) as my date and wore a little red plaid dress with a white collar, black patent mary janes and pigtails. I brought crayons and a coloring book. I stayed out of the dungeon, sat on the floor and made art for the hostess. Some people did not get it and left me alone and that was okay. Others completely loved it and thought it was great. I was comfortable. I was the only kid at the grown-ups party (I was the good kid allowed to stay up for a special occasion) and it totally worked.

Another year, Boymeat was single. My ex and I took him along with us and we had a great time. Boymeat and I mummified my ex and gave him a tandem brother-sister blow job. That was an awesome NYE.

These days, I’m fortunate that I have a tight circle of friends who party together regardless of relationship status. It’s comfortable and intimate. Every year the core group discusses and decides who else to invite. This year’s preliminary list contained the entry, “Lolita’s friend.” I ignored that on the first go round. It was still there on the second round and it irritated me. So, I wrote this entry.

After my little rant, Boymeat spoke to me and reasoned with me and persuaded me to invite “my friend.” I was hesitant to invite one of my fuckbuddies. It was a different type of NYE angst. Like if you ask a fuckbuddy to join you on NYE, does that somehow elevate the status of the relationship? I was not looking to do that. But with the urging of Boymeat and some of my other friends, I decided to take the leap.

A week later, I was in bed with Don Quixote. He was spooned up behind me after some great sex and I started talking about the party. Blah, blah, blah, “…and Boymeat thought it would be a good idea for me to invite you.”

Ugh!

Did I just say that? How fucking lame am I? To DQ’s credit, he did not laugh at me. He seemed to not even notice what a dork I was. He just said yes.