Need Advice for My Sweet Friend

so yeah, i’m not much for asking for advice.

not because i’m perfect or genius but because i usually only write about things where i’m the expert. and that’s ok.

it’s also ok to say hey. what do you say to this dude. i’m at a bit of a loss for words.

there are 2 issues going on. they may be related, but only distantly. either way, they came up around the same time the other night.

we had another bra-less party that turned into a bit of a sex party on saturday. it was full of weird shit. booze, pot, chicks with assertive nipples and the men who love them.

i fucked no one, but i watched 3 orgasms, including one penetration event that made me want to cum right there. but i didn’t. i was the host.

but there was an afterparty. as there always is.

and a sweet dude friend of mine was the last one to be awake with me. on my bed. just talking. he lacks confidence. not that there was going to be the sex with me, but still. confidence thing.

within a few minutes of each other, these 2 things came out.

  1. in grade 5, he did something bad in school. no memory of what it was. he was generally a good kid. still is! but he got yanked out of the classroom where his nazi teacher started tearing into him…for whatever the thing was. she was tall and imposing and generally mean anyway. once she got a few sentences in, he peed his pants. right there in the corner of the hallway outside the classroom. i asked what he did after that. he guesses that he went back into class. he must have smelled like pee. everyone must have known, but he has no memory of that. but i don’t see how they couldn’t. no other memories of that day. no surprise there. amazing that he didn’t block that out. in fact, blocking that out would have been awesome. but it’s tormented him for almost 2 decades. so my question for advice is below. now read the next thing.
  2. we were also talking about things that were demeaning to us. sexually. i have a bunch of stories from university. i had low sexual self-esteem. boys did degrading things to me. not on my terms, unlike now. 🙂 but i have recovered my sense of dignity from those events. my sweet dude friend, though, is similarly tormented by this sexual encounter. despite it being different from the pants peeing, it has the same effect on him. he was dating a girl in university. she worked in the library [not a student] and he was. they would watch movies at her place. sitting on her bed [studio suite]. he liked her. she was sexually self-determining. he was happy to get any kind of making out. but he was lacking confidence to “make a move” on her. so sweet! at any rate, they had a respectful friendship, with attraction. one night she “made a move” on him. she reached over and held his hand and said she wants to have a good time now. he blushed and kept telling the story. she started kissing him and rolled on top of him. grinding and going mmmm when he rubbed her ass. she talked dirty to him, “squeeze me, bitch” and “what are you going to do with that cock, you girlyblouse”. she took off her top and pants and helped him take off his clothes. but then she wouldn’t touch him. she lied there and when he touched her belly she grabbed his hard cock and squeezed. he winced and she said, there’s a price for touching her. so he had to think about that. hard, because all his brain blood was in his penis. so he rubbed her belly again and she squeezed him again. huge price for any contact. he thinks, how will he ever get to make the sex with her if she keeps squeezing his penis. good point. next move: he rubs a breast, over her bra. kind of hard. and yes she squeezes again. all this is new for him and he’s wondering how much touching her he can do before she squeezes off his penis. next: breast under the bra and pressing her nipple. squeeze, still the same amount of pressure. thank god, i guess. next: he pulls down the top of her panties, fast, to reveal her bush. squeeze. he lets go. then he moves around in position to pull her panties right off. i remark that that sounds really bold. and he’s like, yeah. if he’s going to be hurt he wants as much as he can get for it. i say that sounds very transactional. so yeah, he pulls her panties off next. she sits up reach for his penis for the squeeze. he gets them off eventually and when he stops touching her she lets go. she lies back. he pushes her legs apart, far. squeeze. then he lies down between her legs with his face close to her cunt. and he watches her box. she seems to be pretty solidly not moving, just letting him watch her cunt as her body breathes and her lips get more flushed. and he knows she can’t reach his penis in this orientation. so he puts his finger about a centimeter in front of her labia. he moves it up and down without touching her. this is fun for him. and her. he brings his finger back and kisses her cunt. he gets about 2 seconds there, feeling the warmth of her cunt and she leaps up and jumps at his cock. squeeze. 2 seconds, harder now. she ends up lying on the bed in a loose 69 orientation, with his penis within her easy reach. and her cunt is close to his face and hands. he pushes her legs apart again. squeeze. he spends a bit more time looking at her close up labia and bush. breathing her in. then he dives in. fingers rubbing and pulling her labia [squeeze], finger into her vagina, in and out getting creamy [still squeezing his penis], then his tongue on her clit just pressing but no flicking [constant squeeze now] and he just wants to stay in this position until…..he dies of pain or something else. after a few seconds [or hours in non-linear sex time] her hips pull back, he pushes his finger further up her vagina, and she moans a bit [all while squeezing]. at the moan, he cums. despite her squeezing. and he describes this cum as “trying to get your whole body through a basketball hoop.” ok, right. not the clearest analogy, but i get the point. hard to push the cum out of a squeezed penis. “but once it got out it was magic.” and his penis softened a bit and was less pained by her grip. did she cum, i ask. “yes?” he suggests. typical. 🙂 juuuuust kidding. he’s a sensitive, giving man. and i ask what happened next. he said he was stunned because she didn’t wipe up his cum or dry up her creamy cunt. [not everyone worships kleenex] she just hopped up to the top of the bed, slid under the covers and called him up to get in there with her. and they watched tv. touching, hugging but no sex or other sexy acts. while he wonders if he should have tried to fuck with her, he is most “disturbed” by all that squeezing. that she wouldn’t “let” him have contact with her without there being a price. i said that it was a game. he wonders if i might be wrong and he’s right in presuming she wanted to hurt/oppress him and dangle her sex in front of him to be able to control him. i said the snuggly behaviour after he came shows she was in it for play. he mostly believes me. but i’m not going to try to fight to convince him that i’m right. so i’m crowd sourcing your wisdom.

so. my questions.

  1. what would you say to him about holding onto this self-torturing memory of peeing his pants in elementary school?
  2. and, vote on library girl: just playing or trying to degrade him?

i encourage/welcome your responses in the comments!

make my/his day! 🙂

i love you all!

in touch,

holly

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Sex Tip #18: Respect People’s Celibacy Choices

Like the title says. Respect it.

The lesson I learned over the last few weeks creates that truth for me. Holly has helped me through it enough to write about it, appreciating moments of real contact [not just physically], and where I needed to learn where the line is/was. XOXO Holly sweet.

It is marvelous to have Holly back in Vancouver. Hanging out is good. Wreck Beach is just what I need. And the booze and pot and sex and movies and pot luck dinners and picnics with vodka coolers make me know that Holly is a core part of my life for a long time. Amen amen amen.

And now that Holly is going to my/our church quite regularly now we have become a social item. Not a dating item. We aren’t dating [technically, just the benefits].

But people know us. And they know us as a pair.

And Holly likes some of the boys. Not enough to date, but enough to enjoy the view and flirting.

And then there’s Randy. He is new to town, doing his Masters of Divinity and has spent the last several weeks at our evening service. I think he has a training gig lined up for mornings somewhere. Somewhere where no one puts their arms in the air when they feel moved. 🙂

Randy is sweet, has awesome wavy flowing hair, is 29, 1/4 Korean, and not too tall. Not that height is a dealbreaker. 🙂

Holly got to him first one evening after the “show” as she calls it when it’s a bit shlocky. And we went for coffee with him and a few other folks. Coffee meant martinis for a few of us. Slippy in the throat. Yes.

Lotsa talk. Lotsa fun. Phone numbers and last names for Facebook friendship go around.

And the next day I phone him from work and arrange a light dinner for that night.

Open relationships have their benefits. Gordon is a dream, but we both appreciate the fun of variety. I should really go into some of that all in that last several months. But that’s that.

Over the course of 4 times over the next 2 weeks or so before it all crashed to the ground, to put it simply, I tried to get Randy to have sex with me.

I liked him splendidly. He was richly interesting. He had a deep soul.

And he had been, in a previous life, a married furniture assembler with a gambling problem who found a good 12-step program, Jesus and a calling to go into social work and the chaplaincy. Totally respectable. And fascinating.

His marriage ended before his gambling did. Her call. I get that. He had overcome quite a bit, but the broken marriage was the heaviest as it all happened before he knew God and so his frame of dealing with a divorce was after the events. An awkward thing.

And he told me about the times he and his ex met for coffee to work on their shit [“stuff”]. Really endearing.

But he is also a born-again virgin, which i find out on our 3rd date. Which I totally respect. Except I didn’t really. And that’s on me. I’ll accept that.

So when we first went out for dinner, it was casual and fun and we both had a good time. I kissed him goodnight. He was into it. And enjoyed his warmth.

So we plan a post-dinner drink the next night. He had a family thing for dinner.

So I wore a light jumper and cami and no bra. I felt amazing.

Drinks and chatting were nice. I was warm and casual and tipsy and we held hands lots. I knew he was taking in my breasts. BAV, but not dead. I felt good.

We ended the night kissing and hugging. I got in some good glancing nipple rubbing on his chest. Very nice. But the night ended without anything more. I bide time.

Then on the Saturday we walk the seawall a bit. Light, purple skirt past the knee, no panty. Going commando. And the whole braless thing again with a lose scoop T and cami again.

And when we make it around to Lumberman’s Arch we find some nice shady grass aside some bushes and lie down to nibble the baguette and drink some cool beverages.

My goal was to green light him, not for there then, but in general. Such a whore, I know. I’ve come to terms with that.

I arranged myself so that I was lying somewhat under him with his back facing away from the bushes. Under cover of his legs on mine, I slid my skirt up a bit and flowed my hand to my pussy for some comfort. Hoping he’d follow my lead. He did eventually. And he showed slight startle at what he found in there. 🙂 Yay!

He was enjoying the heat and wet and hair and slippy skin. I liked him there greatly!

And after a bit of time there I rolled over onto him. His shorts were not thick. Spreading my skirt up so it was pussy on shorts I/we had a nice time. No bouncing or monster grinding. Just pleasure. Some cleavage leaning. And I spent a good amount of time with my eyes closed, moving my hips oh so gently. Luscious.

And after a time I lied back down to spoon. Felt his cock on my ass. Very nice.

And we walk back and he drives me home and kissing goodbye, I touch his cock and ask him if he’d like me and his friend to get to know each other better. And then he starts telling me about his BAVity. And I feel in part like an ass, but far moreso frustrated. That is me being selfish. I own that too.

And we part well. And I go in and rub off an O.

So the next Friday night we have coffee. And we talk. And do the getting to you know more deeply thing. But the whole time I live a deep sadness that we’re on different pages.

And I know it’s going nowhere because though I like him a lot, I don’t like him enough [or is that even the issue? Holly?] to stay celibate with him.

And towards the end of that night we both start talking about the elephant in the Starbucks. And we just agree that that’s that. Still friends, or is it “friends”.

And as much as I replay it all in my mind, I don’t come up with ways of being different. If he had mentioned BAV before our 3rd date it just would have ended earlier.

Holly says I’m swimming in whore guilt. That he will think I’m the slut I’d be seen as by most in the church. In part true. Mostly something different though.

Mostly sad that his circumstance were/becomes different.

Mourning what would otherwise have been. And it’s sad.

But the lesson is important. To respect people’s choices. Because in the end, you can build nothing casual or serious when one person does not sincerely accept where the other person is.

Dreamily,

Tina

Sex Tip #15: Your Cross Need Not Be Hidden

ok the cloudiness today wasn’t welcome, but it was warm and wreck beach was sublime.

not too much pot, not too much booze. just enough pita and humous.

i went with tina. who is fucking amazing every month that goes by, even moreso.

near us and down the sand slope a bit were 2 asian girls having a good time. got there before us. kept their bikini bottoms on. made it more alluring.

tina, while not a raging bisexual, has enjoyed some of the girl fruits and appreciates beauty. she liked their bums. me too.

so they spent lotsa time topless but later in the day started doing the top on, but untied to avoid tan lines.

in the end of it all, they seemed to have a good day and got ready to leave. tops tied back on and starting to gather their gear on the little rolled wooden blanket thing they had. and one of these girls leans over to reach something, leaning in our direction. i’m looking at tina and seeing them in the background.

and this girl’s nipple slips out of her top towards the middle of her cleavage. very pretty. nothing we hadn’t seen, but with more allure now that its a forbidden peek. lol

and when she rolls back after grabbing an empty water bottle her friend tells her she’s popped out. and she blushes. very funny. and so duh, her friend bugs her for blushing. priceless.

but here’s where the sex tip comes in.

this nipple flasher finishes getting dressed to head back up to clothed reality, and puts a gold cross back on around her neck.

which means i guess that when they arrived she took it off. perhaps so jesus wouldn’t see her being naked or half naked. and i don’t want to judge because it’s really important to allow people to deal with their own boundaries with naturality their own way. but i sorta thought it would be better if she didn’t feel the need to take it off.

because i don’t think jesus would hate her for lying topless on the beach for an afternoon.

and in the end i can’t relate because i don’t wear a cross. so i can’t really put myself in her shoes. but you get my point.

so ya. don’t hide your cross. even when you’re at a nude beach. 🙂

Sex Tip #11: Perhaps Don’t Sleep with a Married Man

This has been a difficult post to prepare.

I have a few other things I wanted to write about, but this one seems to have taken over my brain.

I know Holly’s story about adultery. I know what she wrote in here. I know what else she told me about it. I understand the context. I don’t judge her for what she did. Part of me doesn’t approve of it. Part of me understands it. She knows how I feel about it all. All my conflicting feelings.

Being a divorced person is an interesting cross to bear. Particularly in a Christian community. My relationship with Barry is working for what it is. And for that I’m grateful and happy.

But I don’t know how I would deal with being in a marriage and needing to get out, like Holly’s situation. So I don’t judge.

But in the end, I called this sex tip not sleeping with a married man. Perhaps. I say perhaps because I’m mostly sure it’s wrong. And I think I’m informed about it and not just speculating.

And the funny coincidence…maybe not so funny is that my informed state comes from Keats camp, which is sort of connected to Holly’s situation.

So. The story. Holly has convinced me it’s worth telling.

Some time before I went to church with no bra on I went to Keats camp for an event. The nature of it isn’t relevant. It had couples and singles and more than a few divorced people and divorced people who were remarried.

I met a woman in one of the workshop groups. “Patty” had 3 kids, in her mid-thirties, married to “Frank” for almost 12 years and was a relatively new Christian with her Frank. She was also a deeply funny person. Amazing sense of humour. But she also was lacking an ability to be open and honest. That came up in the group. There were 5 women and she and her friend shared insights about each other. Quite open in that sense, but never really for her was there anything that she would share about herself of substance.

And that was ok in the end because we’re all strangers. But her friend kept remarking on how hard it was to get anything from her.

Anyway that was most of my impression of her. Frank I quite liked. A gentle guy who played ice hockey 3 times a week. Yay. He knew what physicality meant but he was also an emotionally aware guy. Not lots of them around. Generally quite happy but in the end only mostly. Missing something was my sense of him.

So a number of us exchanged email addresses and stuff and we thought about meeting a few weeks after the Keats event for a chat and an update on issues we talked about there.

Nothing came of that. Good intentions but that was it.

Then a few days after I went to church without a bra [which has become a kind of marker separating events for me this summer], Frank emails and we start chatting about things: work, life, church, parenting, but not marriage. A few emails go by and I’m enjoying this, but I’m thinking, what about Patty? A few more emails and he gets to it. He’s thinking he’s unhappy but he’s blocked in figuring it out.

We meet after work one night for a glass of wine and start talking about things. He’s a bookeeper and works late a lot and I feel like the other woman. He’s also a transit guy too and we take the #20 back towards home. I get off first to connect to my bus and before I stand up to go, he puts his hand on my knee when we’re saying bye. Not overtly. Not meaninglessly either. Felt nice. Tingles even. I liked that. But I also felt guilty. For good reason.

Then a few weeks ago when summer has definitely given up trying to actually be here, we meet again for wine after work. We talk some more about all the safe topics and then he gets onto the place I figured he was at: out of love with his wife and 3 kids. He is showing some sadness but I know he’s hiding much more sadness because maybe we’re in a bar.

I ask if he’d like to come over to talk more. Yes. Cab ride. Home. A bottle of wine opened. And after about 10 minutes he’s just letting it all out. So sad at it being dead for him. And he gets quiet into a funk.

I never liked hockey players in high school. Frank’s no hockey player, but he plays hockey. That kind of thing ran through my head a lot that night at the bar. Totally off topic, but it was the issue of what I think of him kicking around in my head. Underneath it all was being available for him as a person, but I also wanted to have sex with him. Never consciously in my head, but always in between the lines.

And in his funk I put my hand on his knee and he puts his hand on my hand. Then on my knee. Then on my shoulder and we’re kissing. Then it’s on my breast and mine is on his crotch and from there we’re having sex on the couch and I loved it. Duh.

I didn’t cum, but he really did and pretty briskly. He hadn’t had sex in weeks and weeks he said. I could tell. He masturbated a lot but he hadn’t fucked his wife in so long. A sexless rut that was more than a rut I thought.

After the sex we just hung out on the couch doing the cuddle thing while he played with my nipples. Eventually I got him hard again and we fucked again until I came. In the end it helped that his finger was in my bum when we were in the doggy position. I wanted to come so badly because if I was having sex with a married man I wanted to at least feel some joy in it and for all the time we were doing it and I didn’t come I wanted to. And I started getting anxious about it. Go ahead and psychoanalyze that. Good luck to ya! 🙂

And then we broke it off. He emailed the next day and said he wasn’t sure we should do it again. I emailed back saying ok. I’m also talking with Holly about it and she’s easing my grief/guilt. But the next day he phones and comes over on the Saturday afternoon and we fuck some more. And then again this past Saturday afternoon.

And as it is now, I don’t want to stop because I like how he does my bum. I like how he sucks me and I like the illicit nature of it all. It’s a mad rush.

But I also feel bad. He’s in charge of his marriage, but I’m truly the other woman. And the biggest thing, though I’ve talked with Holly about this, I haven’t talked to Barry. And I don’t have a real sense of why. We’re not exclusive and we’ve been with others since last winter, but I just don’t want to talk to him about it. Maybe I’d feel ashamed around him? Don’t know. He’s not one to judge so there’s no risk there.

Maybe it’s my conscience. But until I figure it all out, the sex tip is to not sleep with married men.

In dreams,
Tina

Sex Tip #10: Nipple Flashing for Fun and Profit!

i’m a feminist and all that, but i’m also sensible. we live in an anti-woman society. we get paid 71% of what men do [5 years ago it was all the way up to 72% so it’s going down!], and we are biologically at greater risk of STIs than boys.

i had a long msn chat conversation with a gal friend recently who’s a MILF with a 15-ish year old son, whose friends turn her on. we talked alot about how to feel erotic about playing a MILF for the friends [one in particular] without having to go and have sex with the boy. and i told her what i do with my blouses and bras sometimes.

i brought it up in an email exchange with a new online bud tonight when i mentioned that i’m staying with buddy rent-free this summer in exchange for sex. which i guess makes me a prostitute. but then he’s not some smelly geek. he’s buddy from many postings last summer. my vancouver boytoy. good relationship. friend with lots of benefits but an open relationship. quite healthy actually. and if two people live together and one doesn’t work [even a wife/husband], doesn’t that person participate in a relationship [including fucking] for “rent.” here’s what i wrote in my emails:

“i am finding young boys to buy me drinks as my summer wad of cash is almost gone and my flight back to school isn’t for another week and a bit. not hard. put on a loose fitting top, do up my bra one clasp too big and i get all the belinis i want all night.”

and what do the guys get for a $6 belini or two, a relatively cheap peep show, that frankly is 30-90 minutes of the tease of trying to see nipple, getting to glance down my top quite a bit and maybe not even being lucky enough to see a nipple. and they like to talk with girls and buying us a drink lets them do it for a while. and while most of them aren’t interesting enough to date, they’re all [ok virtually all] interesting enough as PEOPLE to have a conversation with. and if they like to look at my chest, i feel erotic. nice deal all around. but a $6 belini [or even 2 or 4] doesn’t get a random boy a fuck, a blowjob or a handjob. even hookers charge way more than that.

so in my emails tonight, my new online buddy replied how i make “slutty-chic look easy” and that he wished he could fuck for rent sometimes.

this is where i hit my brainstorm in my reply…

“guys CAN fuck for rent. they just have to change society, get rid of chauvinism, pay women 100% of what men make not 72% and then they get EQUALITY! men’s suffragettes need to get active. you are an oppressed gender. time to heal society so you get what we get. and i’m hardly chic. i TRY but i dont have the fashion sense to pull it off. letting guys peek at my breasts in hopes of seeing a nipple requires NO chic whatsoever.”

that’s my genius wisdom tonight. it’s not often that girls have the upper hand at anything. i get “free” room and “free” drinks all summer. many different types of feminism object to these methods and i totally understand their arguments. i can’t even object to them and prove them wrong. all i can say is that while things are unequal, i have the right to seek some redress sometimes.

and if you like the braless sex tip last time, this one should fit right in. 🙂

in touch,
holly
Sex Tips for Christian Girls
http://stcg.blogspot.com

Sodomy, the Pastor’s Wife, Borat: Sex Tip #9…Anal Almost Equals Oral Sex

OK. I went to see Borat several weeks ago. Mostly funny. A bit long though. I’ll watch his show though.

I went with Barry. We’ve been hanging out more. I have a scorecard to share too before I get into my story.

Sex with Barry: many many times over the last 8 months.

Sex with Vicky and John: twice now, once with Barry there too, when I bought my new scuba cut bathing suit. More on that later.

Sex with Holly: one tentative time [I didn’t climax], one time with Barry too, one not so tentative time [I climaxed twice], once with Holly and her buddy, the man whose bed she sleeps in and/so doesn’t have to pay rent in Vancouver this summer.

Sodomy: 7 times.

And this is the tip. Vaginal intercourse is what it is. Oral sex, blowing boys, is what it is. Anal sex, Barry’s penis in my bum, is on par with oral sex.

That’s my conclusion.

Rum, Sodomy and the Lash. That’s what I hear is the old British Navy. Funny.

Sodomy in the Bible is pretty precise. And I think it’s all about keeping boys from boning other boys.

And I know very well that Holly isn’t into bum stuff. And I know that my first post in here had some dancing around the bum thing. And Barry had never done anal before me either. And eventually we just tried it. Took some practice. Felt a little odd. We found our rhythm. And it is sweet. And I love Holly and respect her bum and it’s hers to do with as she pleases. Yeah for bums!

So we’ve gone all anal. And we still do other things, but bum fun is fun. That’s it. Nice climaxes. For both of us.

So Borat.

We went out to a big theatre to see Borat. Lots of shows there. We pay for tickets and walk in. We’re winding around lines and things wanting to get seats before food.

Barry’s walking behind me as we hit a traffic jam. He bumps my bum with his cock as we slide beside the line, ducking past a big cardboard movie poster. And he says loud enough for anyone to hear [if they’re close by], “Want it in your bum tonight?” And I’m nodding and smiling.

And since no one is around, we’re fine.

Except.

Except our youth pastor’s wife is standing behind the cardboard movie poster and hears it all. And as Barry is saying it, I’m looking the other way. And I hear the abrupt ceasing of a conversation coming from behind the big poster. So I look over and see her. And a friend of hers who I don’t like because she has virtually no personality [at least in my presence].

And we just keep walking because Barry doesn’t really know her and I don’t let on. Though my face turns red as my hair. So I tell him it all when we get seats. I’m looking around and they don’t come in. No surprise they’re not seeing Borat.

And Barry is just loving it. And off he goes to get food.

And I sit there thinking, just what is wrong with sodomy anyway, when I’m a woman. 🙂

And I don’t want to get all theological and everything. Holly’s good and whipping through the history of the church to let me know what backstory explains parts of the Bible. But I don’t care.

And I don’t care what my pastor’s wife thinks of my anal sex. A tiny bit of me cares but the rest is out to end that little bit.

And Barry sure doesn’t care.

And my sex tip is for Holly and all other girls who are scared off of anal sex because of anti gayboy stuff in the Bible. Try it. If you like it, AWESOME. If you don’t, you can let it go.

And if you don’t want to try it, great. Respect your own feelings. Holly does. And even though I even showed her the picture we took of Barry in my bum, and she liked it, she’s still not game. And I totally respect her for that.

In dreams,
Tina

Sex Tip #8: Go to Church Braless

I went to worship service Sunday night. The weather was fine so the day was in the sun.

Holly came with me. She hasn’t been here for years. It was a good service. Lots of worship. Lots of arms waving in the air. Lots of singing. It felt good.

The day was fun, with Holly and a quick drink at tea time at Bimini with Barry. Bad red wine. How is that possible, Bimini, say it isn’t really so. But it was.

But during our day, Holly and I shopped. We don’t like to shop. It’s stressful, but the shopping was a delightful distraction from things amongst us.

And we hit one place on the Drive with some fantastic fabrics and clothes. There was an amazing Guatemalan design. If you know anything from there, you know what I mean. It was a light white cotton strapless halter with lace inset and a “Guatemalan” trim on the top elastic.

Having perfect though small breasts, the halter fit snugly and comfortably. In trying it on, I abandoned my bra. A nice bra, red. It spent the rest of the day in my sack. Then it was texting Barry on the way to Bimini and donairs for dinner.

Yawn. Ok I’m getting to it.

I write this because I didn’t intend to go to worship braless. Truly. But I don’t apologize.

I had a bra, but it so didn’t go with the top. And for the afternoon, even with the subpar red wine, I enjoyed people looking at my top, and my breasts beneath. You couldn’t really “see” anything, but you could make them out well. But that was Bimini when everyone looks at you as if they’re rubbing your ass. Which is fine.

But drinking and eating too late meant it was too tight to whip back home to get a strapless bra and I said ok. Let’s go to church. It’ll be fine.

Sunday night worship on a sunny summer day is no big deal. Not a huge turnout. The church ladies that Holly dreads so much don’t go because overhead projector hymns don’t do it for them.

And the air conditioner is not so great anyway, so THAT problem wasn’t a big worry.

And I like my breasts. As does Barry. And Holly. And Vicky and John. And my husband did too. And others, but I don’t write about them here. 🙂

So we go to church and Holly has a good time, though she takes a while to relax. Understandable after some of the weirdness here for her.

And there’s the singing and the quiet prayer and the talking prayers and such. A moving evening.

And I caught no one gawking at my breasts. Though a few times I found a few eyes looking around for a little too long. And I felt pretty and desirable and not like a whore, even though some Sunday morning women would look at me like I was.

But it is summer, so the argument goes even on days where it’s grimy out. And it was a warm night and we were out and God welcomed me into his presence regardless of whether I was wearing a bra.

And I’m not dating any of the guys or looking to. I’m fine single and doing what I do.

And Christian girls who feel like not wearing a bra should not feel horrified by it. And I know that some girls have less ease at this option than me. I respect that and I don’t want to preach. But my lesson from Sunday night is that you should think hard about going braless to church once or twice.

In part, it says to God that you are the fullness of who you are. God loves all of each of us, even our bodies as a part of our being. And He knows us anyway. So since God knew I spent the afternoon without a bra and I honoured him in my life all day, it was no different in the evening.

So sex tip #8 is to think about wearing no bra to church. And even if you don’t do it, thinking about it will bring you closer to yourself and to God.

In dreams,
Tina