Going Braless, Yes!

As long as I’m meat, men will define the boundaries of my identity and sexuality. I choose bralessness in a variety of circumstances.

As a teacher, my job is to empower people. I choose to wear a bra at work because the stress of not doing so is not worth the hassle.

But it turns out, Kaitlyn is braver than me!

Burn your bras, sistas!

And frankly, I’d like to punch in the throat any male colleague who cannot contend with a braless student in class. Complete and utter bullshit!

This is the shirt Kaitlyn was wearing when she was sent to the office.

When I left the office, I was so upset that I posted a picture of what I was wearing on Facebook, telling everyone, ‘If any of you are curious, this is the shirt I was wearing when I was called out.’ I most definitely wasn’t wearing anything against the dress code.” 

braless

via Facebook / Kaitlyn Juvik

Principal Steve Thennis said he won’t check someone’s undergarments but does ask they dress appropriately…

…“and if we feel it is inappropriate, male or female, we are going to ask them to cover up.” 

Sex Tips for Christian Girls #23: You Can’t Trade Sex for Counselling. Duh.

Greetings my bitches and sperm spewers!the_fall_of_sin___extended_by_anton101

i hereby resolve to do more than one post in 2016. see…i’m already halfway there!

i have many updates. of friends and new friends. and semen and cunts. and visions of 2016.

but the first comes as the last key killer discussion of 2015. with one of the counsellors at my school.

she’s someone we go out drinking with on fridays and other times. she’s someone who deals in honesty and has no time for bullshit. but she is always there for people to work through their process. even if bullshit is part of that process.

this discussion is a no brainer. but there were surprising twists.

issue we hypothetically construct:

  1. woman is going through an emotional or life crisis.
  2. she seeks a counsellor for help.
  3. she sets up biweekly appointments at over $100/hour.
  4. things are going well. she’s getting into some shit. but it’s going to take some time.
  5. 2 months in, she loses her job and ends up losing her west side [too expensive anyway] apartment, putting fondest memories into storage and rents a room in a shared house with a friend and some acquaintances.
  6. at any rate, she can’t afford these sessions anymore as she’s on EI and is embracing the raw food lifestyle out of necessity.
  7. so she phones him up to cancel her upcoming appointments.
  8. he lets her come in for the next one for free.

and the issue is…and this is where my lovely zany question comes in…is it unethical for him to offer to continue treating her in exchange for no money. but just sex.

and obviously the answer is yes. deeply unethical. duh. and there’s no point even going into the reasons why. duh.

but my counsellor friend of mine and i, over far too much sangria began discussing the logistics of this anyway. and while we came up with what i recall to be over half a dozen good reasons why it’s not only unethical, but also bad therapeutic practice, we worked up the scenario anyway.

  1. biweekly appointments would mean biweekly sex?
  2. at, say, $135/session, that’s $270/month. so is it like she’s let him fuck her for $135 every time?
  3. what if he wanted weekly sex from her? would she feel cheaper if she’s then only “getting paid” $62.50 to fuck him each time?
  4. would the sex be before or after each appointment or at a completely different time?
  5. her place [awkward] or his? or some neutral place? his office?
  6. is there a way for her to imagine in her mind that she could get good treatment while being sexually compromised?
  7. what about pro bono therapists? who wouldn’t demand sex.
  8. what happens if she stops enjoying sex with him? if she never does enjoy it? what happens if she feels trapped, and not immediately, i should add?
  9. and power. it’s always about power. never about the sex. so no need to delve into all that.

and while the whole conversation was about an undeniably immoral and unethical situation, we couldn’t help but keep going with the mental puzzle of how it could possibly work.

my counsellor friend, like many therapists, has had her buttons pushed during sessions sometimes and she has her own counsellor to deal with her own processes as well as triggery things that come up.

this friend has admitted to being attracted to at least one of her counsellors in her life. we’re only human. so have i. probably everyone has.

but there seems to be a logistically sensible situation in which it’s conceivable to trade sex for therapy, but beyond the hypotheticalness of it, it’s just mad.

so. by the end of it, we asked ourselves if we somehow now just love wasting our time with stupid conversations.

one one hand, yes.

on another hand, why was it such a big deal to drive through all the logistics just to see if it could hypothetically work?

no easy answer there.

all i know, is that it was compelling enough to keep our attention for enough time.

and sometimes, the only way to actually have “cards against humanity” type conversations, is to get some drunk on, get with a safe friend and actually dig in. even if you know it’s wrong. not the actual conversation, but the thing you’re talking about. cuz it doesn’t even matter.

in the end, that’s one way to know you’ve got a goooood friend! 🙂

in touch,

holly

Making your heart sing!

i’m getting more into tantric sex.

i’m getting more into keeping my dear dear lover hard until i can make him cum at whim. like hours, but really 30-45 minutes is goo.

i’ve fallen in love. like, in the cliche way. i still love buddy and my girlfriend, but i’ve moved out of that household and in with my llllllllover!

i think we’re going to get married some day. i just loooove him.

and he likes his sex and his cum and my cunt and all the sweaty bits, but my heart sings when he unloads in me.

he is brilliant and flaky and a risque divorcee. and his ex left him for manhattan. and he is ok talking to me about her juicy cunt and what he used to do to it and watch other fellows do to it. and i love listening to him talk about it/her. he keeps having to lick his lips. then he sucks me until i whimper.

i want to get pregnant and know that his cum can mix with me and make a new thing. from pretty much scratch.

i want to lie in bed with him reading or watching movies or porn and just exist with his cock in my cunt. not softening, not leaving, just staying there. like it’s how i breathe.

and on the bus, when i had my marking bag on my lap and my hand underneath, i daydreamed about the last time i had his cock in me for soooo many minutes. i juiced up and simply pressed my finger on my clit and did the no-hip-moving dance of secret orgasms.

and when he came home, he walked in the door and i was there for him to rub my still wet panties. so i confessed my bus sin and helped him back into my cunt.

there are times i only want his cum in my for the rest of my life. but that passes. but i am beside myself thinking that i can ever think that. i am charmed indeed!

in touch,

holly

It’s Easy Being Green, and Slutty, In Vancouver

greeeeeeeen!I was a hipster the other night, wandering Main Street with friends, when we get distracted by this “fuck me hard while I wear this revealing corset” shop on 16th.

I enjoy being slutty while trying to reclaim the word slut from those who want to shame me and my sisters and slutty brothers from enjoying doses of wild and usually inappropriate sex.

I want to head back to this shop and buy this dress and cram my ass into it and wear it with the straps constantly falling.

I want to wear it, commando, to dance at a club while loaded on fruity rum drinks. And I want my people to fondle my dress while I’m dancing. I want them to rub my ass and tits and cunt through it. I want them to reach down the top to go after a nipple periodically.

I want to go into the bathroom so one of my girls can feel me up in it while others watch how creamy I get, in part just cuz I’m in the dress. My new orgasm dress.

Then I want to go home with my friends, after meeting at least one new person [usually it’s a girl] to add to our group. At least for just the night.

And I want at least 3 people to fondle me in it.

And I want one person to suck my clit while someone else’s fingers are creaming me up.

And I want those at least 3 people to peel this dress off me and each of them, fuck me. However they wish.

And I want to sleep beside this dress. And put it on the next morning and walk around the house in it, eating breakfast and berries. And then I want a boy to lie me down on the bed, push the dress up and fuck me while I daydream of lying on a beach in south Asia looking out into the ocean at all those tall rock islands with tropical vegetation all over the top.

I want this dress to smell like my cream, other people’s cum and all my sweat and other people’s lipstick.

Then if it’s a drizzly day, I’m going to drape it over the rose bush on the balcony to freshen it up.

Then that night I will wear it to Sandbar just before the dinner rush and sit at the bar drinking rum and root beer, with my Kindle, reading and enjoying people looking at me and wanting to fuck me. I will not let any boys take me home to fuck me, but any girl who wants to try on my dress is welcome!

Then, as they say, later rinse repeat.

I fucking LOVE this dress!

Sex Tip #22: We Should All Charge for Sex

i was talking to a christian virgin in her 20s last week, the sister of a girl i teach with. she is good without intercourse. she has a firm line. she considers it an issue of personal integrity and morality. all fine.

but she loves being sucked and sucking so her morality doesn’t stop her from getting to third base. good girl. and she has the classic girl lament that once her boy cums, he has a hard time focus on her mere existence! 🙂

ladies first. has to be said. but, continuing on…

but she had something really interesting to say.

she thinks of sex as a massively powerful thing. and she figures that if girls choose to cease to be virgins before marriage [which she understands but doesn’t embrace herself obviously], she wonders why all girls don’t charge for it.

so she clearly doesn’t judge sex trade workers, but she also sees it like compromising a virtue being a very black and white thing. once you have sex you’ve crossed a line. you’re in another realm of virtue. different. and in her case, for herself: lesser.

but she figures that if she were to cross that line and have sex, she should charge for it. it is possibly the greatest currency of power in the human history. there should be no reason why she shouldn’t charge $500 for the honour of fucking her. note she didn’t say $50. she knows how to price commodities.

and then she went on to talk about things i agree with, like how marriage is in some ways “just” an economic arrangement where in the past, women became housewives and kept the home for the man and didn’t have to work but in exchange for all that economic value, she fucked her husband. and in that view, women weren’t sexual creatures, but cunts for receiving cum. turns out women actually like to fuck, but whatever. 🙂 only they didn’t have to swallow or even suck his dick after she had a ring on.

and i like this chick. she’s got it figured out. and she has a killer petite body. dragon boats, cross country skiing, part time vegan diet. i’d fuck her if i were a guy. and i may just pay $500.

last summer i saw her in her bathing suit, drunk, at dusk, at a campsite at a lake near whistler. i saw how poorly her bathing suit fit after several hours in it and after losing her ability to stand up straight 100% of the time. and i wasn’t the only one who noticed her awesomeness. and i know that she sucked at least one of the boys on our trip. deeply. so she’s got the game, as they say.

but to know, not just think but know, that there’s been NOTHING in her cunt, that’s just stunning. and if she were to let a boy inside her [well, that part of her], i could see that she’d want to be properly compensated for it. i know this because i’ve taken money, restaurants, clothes, hotel stays and wild rides in convertibles in exchange for fucking a guy.

so i told her about my various times being more or less a prostitute and she could totally relate. i didn’t tell her EVERYthing i’ve done sexually that had a payout [beyond the scope of our conversation], but i concluded with this idea: if a girl like this agrees with me on the economic and power nature of sex, i think i’m on solid ground.

in touch,

holly

Why I’m Only a Bit of a Prostitute

Prostitution. I’m in favour. To not be is to be a hypocrite. But with limits.

Last weekend i spent a wonderful time in Kelowna. At the Delta. A big ass expensive hotel, with nice sheets. But sadly, not a view of the lake. For me anyway.

Technically, I was a prostitute. I was driven in the fellow’s car, had my meals and the room paid for [tho his business covered the room], enjoyed the gifts of lingerie and a summer dress, and got fucked a number of times in exchange.

I returned home with no $100 in my purse or anything tho. So technically… 🙂

But beyond technicalities, I hooked.

The guy was no stranger. He is the separated husband of a woman who taught at my school until last year. She was hard core in the micromanaging, cold fish, control freak way. She didn’t “get” students. And their need to not work 100% of their lives. They had been together for about 9 years. Married for  5. He got over her intensity and dumped her.

He works in branding/marketing. Two things I REALLY don’t like, but I like his body. And he’s really funny.

Over the weekend, I learned his soon-to-be ex was an intense fucker. Intense like at school. Liked to suck him till he came, then get him hard again and make him work her until she came. Sometimes more than once.

So I did a bit of that. He enjoyed parts of the weekend doing the exact same stuff he did with her, but with the difference being me and my body and my style. Same process, different content he called it. These marketing people, eh! 🙂

But my highlights were my times to explore what of him i’d always found attractive.

I wore no bra in the car and took off my panties on the highway. Did some rubbing in the car, of me, not him. My breasts and my clit.

And when we checked in i walked into the bathroom, into the shower, turned it on and wet me and my dress all up. And he fucked me all wet on the bed. That started the weekend well.

We got some room service and drank a bit, then he went out to the casino with some clients/marks.

Around 1130pm he phones me and asks if it’s ok to have some boys over to the room. I say sure. Committed to not fucking all 3 of them. And I didn’t, but I know that was a thing in his mind to see if it would end up there. Saucy man.

We all had drinks. They were generally polite, asking what I did, etc., but not so much about how me and “John” met. I guessed he told them, but I don’t think they know much about his marital past. New clients, or newish.

And then they left and I stripped and tied up John and gratified myself beside him on the bed while seeing if he’d cum. Nope. Good boy. Then I ordered pizza.

And while I opened the door only enough to bring in the pizza, John wasn’t so sure I wouldn’t fling the door wide open for delivery boy to see. Cue the porn music. I don’t know why he was worried. Maybe because that’s what I said I’d do with the door.

Bitch?

Bitch.

Whore, too.

Saturday, John’s is in conference/meeting/sales/branding/inspiration mode. I miss him all day. Sniff. I got shopping with his two . There are only 7,000 stores on Harvey. And one thing I love about the OK is that wearing a bikini around town, in the Subway, in the mall, is a uniform for some and not a problem for anyone [outwardly anyways].

And when I was in Sweet Dreams there were 3 girls [and by girls I mean 18-20] trying on things. One ended up quite high maintenance because each of the 3 of them and the staff sweetie all had different opinions about her “real” bra size. Clearly she had never had a proper fitting before. But after 19 million opinions she got some truth. 38C not 36D. That was fun to watch. But in the end she had to come to terms with not self-identifying as a D.

After the fitting and more hijinks and tryings-on, I mentioned to her in the corner how I’m a B. And while it’s not size that matters, it IS what you do with it. And I went into my stall and tightened up my bra one clasp and came back out and said that this difference makes a dull evening at the bar quite unpredictable. Then I went back in and loosened it to one clasp too loose and came back out and said, same for this. in a different way. It’s all about how you introduce your breasts to the world. And then I said I’d still fuck a penis regardless of which way it curves. FTW.

Anyway, I came away from there with this:

It’s a nice piece. Feels smooth. So picture this without the discrete bra and panty underneath it and that’s what i wore the rest of the weekend when we were in the room. Lots of access. And it got good and creamy.

Spent some time in the pool and sauna, got a bit frisky with myself in the sauna. That was nice. Then around 430pm John comes back to the room and I model my outfit for him. I ensure some time demonstrating the sheerness with which to see my nipples. And how I can untie the top to pull out a boob for him and rub a recently released cock head on it. And how I can lie back on the bed and push the skirt down to cover my cunt but not hide its terrain. And how I can sit on the back of the couch with one foot up there too showing how such a little skirt allows his cock to rub along my lips while I rub his balls. And how I can hold his phone and take a short video of his cock rubbing my sticky lips [not inside my cunt, mind you, because that would be fornication] and how for all day he hasn’t been able to fuck me that as i pull off the shoulder of my top and push his fingers onto my nipple, that he can cum on the outside my cunt and cream the skirt.

Then we dress for dinner, coMMANdo! With me in a navy sheer top over a cream cami and yoga skirt.

We came back to the room and slipped into the tub for a http://www.soapymassage.com. Me likey.

For breakfast, I sat on his face and he ate my cunt. Then I wouldn’t fuck him. Just kept saying no until it got so late we wouldn’t have enough time to get down to the restaurant to eat before his session. Cutting it close, I made him fuck me fast so we’d still be able to rush downstairs. But I took the poke up against the window with my yoga skirt up in the back, wondering how many people out there were drifting off to find a good local church. No one looked up and stared, though a few did glance up. They weren’t obvious though if their looks lingered.

After a quick tidy up we breakfasted and I swam and we checked out cruised a few girlclothes shops until I found a great summer dress with which to drive home in, coMMando! Of course.

He dropped me off and I felt nothing like a prostitute. I felt like a girl on more than a one night stand. It lasted 3 days, but it was much like a one night stand, which is usually not prostitution. Sure I got food, clothes, travel, rooms, uninterrupted naps, etc. but when i go out on dates, the fellow [only if he’s new] pays for dinner and a movie/play/cover and usually drives. And buys me liquor. And I either fuck him or i don’t.

Prostitutes have sex for money.

What’s the difference?

Nude Mexican Hotel Hot Tubs, Late Night Version

Hi.

My name is Tina and I’m an alcoholic.

Oh wait. That’s for another kinda meeting. 🙂

It’s been about 2 years since I’ve been in here. Lots has changed. Gordon [Barry] is gone. He dumped me. I cried and cried and cried. OK. I didn’t. I just grieved for a while. We were not monogamous and we fooled around together and individually and he met someone. Someone whose baggage was simpler, but that’s not why he went with her.

She was taller. She had longer hair. She had larger breasts. She had a pierced hood.

None of this matters. He actually loved her more than me and he could envision a future better with her than me. THAT makes sense. I’m not totally jaded and off marriage, but I need more work than she does.

They aren’t engaged, but they will be.

Ok. Good venting, Tina. Healthy.

Yes, Holly. Mexico. She’s a mean editor!

I went to Mexico with a gf in February during the Olympics. Holly is cheap. She has a job, but is afraid of her student loan burden. Lame ass. But I can respect her.

Truth is, I missed her. She has this job thing too. I guess that matters.

So I leave town during the Olympics with just one friend. She is married but her 80 hour/week lawyer husband is married to his job. She needs to find time for her life on her own at times.

So, we’re in Cabo for a week. Nice hotel on the beach. Nice pool bar. Nice hot tub near the sand. All the wonderful cliches!

So on day 3 we take a van ride up the coast to a beach that isn’t going to kill us if we go in. Surfers are there. Winnies from Colorado. That kind of thing.

And there are 6 other people on the van from this hotel and the next one over. And there’s this weird Vegas kind of thing about what happens in Cabo stays in Cabo. Not that there are beach orgies or anything, but various people we encounter are really friendly, but just skip the name thing.

Many were from Canada and some were probably on our plane, but it’s just a “have a good time, don’t bother with strings like names.” And that’s ok.

So one guy of the group in the van was interesting to many of us. Nice looking, nice personality. Pleasant all around. And alone when most everyone else was with a friend.

And later that night my friend goes to sleep early. Two days of margs and very late nights and jet lag are killing her. Me? I have a 2 drink maximum. Weighing 76 pounds means I’m a cheap drunk. 🙂

So I’m in the hot tub approaching 11pm. A few other folks are in there and a fellow comes by at 1030 and 1045 and 1100 to say the hot tub, pool and pool bar are closing at 1100pm.

So I’m getting ready to get out after the 11pm announcement and no one else is. Me, not having been in the hot tub at closing time yet. So no one’s getting out and they say it’s because that’s the hotel’s closing time. After 11pm is anarchy time.

And I see this because about ten minutes later a couple walks up the beach from way down there, gets to the hot tub, takes off their bathing suits and climbs in. Johnny 1977 is the guy. I say this because he had as much pubic hair as someone from a 70s porn movie. Awesome!

So van boy has been in the hot tub since before I got in. And we’ve been talking on and off like we did during the day. And at times he’s moved beside me and our legs have touched and arms. And at one point he lifts one of my legs up over his knees and rubs my shin and knee and a bit up my thigh. I’m smiling and find it ok.

And then he holds my hand and rubs it with his other hand. Very nice, but really an escalation from a gentle shin stroking.

And then he glides my hand over my leg and thigh and moving on to my belly [I’m in a one-piece]. Then he moves my hand up to my neck and slides it down between my breasts, down my belly to the top of my pussy then along alllll my thigh. What a nice boy! 🙂

So after the naked couple get in, he declares the hot tub is clothing optional after closing. Now I’m no prude and I enjoy Wreck Beach, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to get naked in here with these folks.

Why? No reason really. Just that that’s something I’ve never done. It takes me about 5 minutes though to realize I had no reason. So while van boy takes off his shorts, I lifted my leg up and rubbed my thigh on his cock. Strangely, it was hard. 🙂

And once I realized I had no reason not to, I took of my suit. And he went straight for my belly. Rubbing it, moving up to a breast, down to my pussy. And while people were enjoying themselves in the hot tub and someone lit a [bad] joint, and we were having a good time.

Van boy, however, was needing some release. And cumming in a hot tub is such bad form. So he invites me to the beach and we stroll down to the shore to sit in the surf [where it won’t drag us to our deaths] and he wants to fuck but I don’t.

He wants me to blow him, but I don’t.

He wants me to give him a handjob, but I don’t. Nothing personal, but I’ve just really “met” him. So I say he should just rub it off and let me watch and then if things go well, there’ll be time for fucking later and he won’t be so cum-needy.

So he jerks off and cums in the water and it’s awesome. Hot, night sky, on the beach in Mexico, naked, pretty much alone and this nice boy cums for me. It goes a long way to loosening me up.

And we talk a bit about the day trip. Post-coital chatting. Nice.

Good beaches, his fantasies. How, when I press him, he admits my friend is hot too. I promise it won’t count against him. 🙂

And he tells me that since I’m so open-minded he lets me know that he also found a teenage girl on the van today to be hot. Not that that’s a big stretch. She was there with her mom and younger brother [about 10]. She was about 17, but kind of plain looking. Not at all unattractive, but not into the sexing it all up for school thing.

So he said that even though I’m great and everything, he wished she were in the hot tub with her bikini and that skirt she wore over her bathing suit because she has a largish, but not at all fat ass. And her small breasts [in my neighbourhood] and how it would be nice to take her up to his room because she probably wouldn’t take off her bathing suit in the hot tub.

And assuming she were a virgin who had never done much more than second base with a boy, he would take her into his shower and hug and kiss her and rub her tits. Then take off her top and suck her nipples. Then massage her ass and promise to keep everything out of her pussy if he could take off her bikini bottom so he could rub her clit and suck her.

And I am sooo enjoying his little story that I get a little rubbing going.

And he continues with how he’d bring her to the bed and suck her clit more. And if she were interested in sucking him that would be good. And if not, she could rub his cock. And in this I see he’s working our last 10 minutes into the story.

And that if she’s never seen a boy cum before, he’d rub one off for her. So she says for him to do that and he does. And he cums on his belly for her to rub her fingers in it. And she does and rubs his cum on his softening cock and balls.

And then he’d do everything he could to get her interested in him fucking her. But since she’s 17, he’d respect her decision to keep her pussy unfilled. What a gentleman.

And after all that, he passed the test. What test? Not really sure. Just that I got him to lie down and I sat on his face. He had earned the right to suck me off. Good boy.

And while no one from the hot tub left it and came down to watch, even though we were rather far away, I knew they could see me sitting on his face. And I very much enjoyed that. 🙂

So I left it at that. I put on my sandy bathing suit and went back to our room to shower most of the sand off me.

I left it with him that while I wouldn’t fuck him that night, there were still days left. We’ll see. I was leaning towards doing it, but there was part of me not quite sure. And I never got quite sure.

But we did spend some time with him. He remained fun to hang out with. Nothing all weird or anything from our sex games.

And whenever we saw the family with the young girl we had knowing glances to share and he dropped a few comments about new fantasies. I kept my fantasies of her to myself, after all, we were largely strangers.

And we generally speculated on whether he was right with his fantasy guess that she had only ever been to second base. We’d see things she’d do, or how she was sitting and suggest she had more sexual experience than just that. Fun games all around.

And I don’t really have a sex tip here, except to say it’s important to listen to your gut, but don’t forget your head.

My gut said don’t take my bathing suit off in the hot tub. My head rightly said that I didn’t have a reason, let alone a good reason.

Then, my gut said not to fuck van boy, but just to let him suck me off. And my head respected that. After all, taking off your bathing suit in a hot tub with strangers in a foreign country is one thing. Letting some guy’s cock inside you is quite another. 🙂