My Kink Journey. 3/5
Guess what? Part 3 continues from Part 2.
I’ve re-written this about 3 times now. I don't want to rush through everything, but I have a terrible habit of going off on wild tangents when I’m writing. A parting piece must be written with care, so I’ve given plenty of thought over what is relevant to share here and what is just me rambling on. I know I'm not the best writer, but I try.
I might have been a bit too brief about what happened in the past that effected my confidence. See, I had helped out a few people earlier - basically they screwed-up with someone else and I swung in to the rescue. I felt like, being helpful and saving their butts meant I could count on them when I needed something in return. Oh no, I was wrong, they turned their back on me when I needed them, so hell yeah I felt betrayed, like no one had my back. I shared the situation with my friends and that helped (although sharing didn't resolve the problem I needed help with). Getting accepted into Uni was a huge relief, but it was countered with the news that one of my high school friends was going to leave Wellington to study. They met someone up there and have been together for a few years now and I'm very happy for them. I hope they'll invite me to the wedding if that day comes.
My upbringing was very much about the value in earning things yourself and being strong and independent, like going without something until you've earned enough to buy things, try and understand a person before judging them, and life is too short to stuff a mushroom. When I was a Sugar Baby for Mr Mischievous, I felt special, and that was as welcome as the financial assistance - more so in fact. I thought he'd be more interested in my appearance than me the person, but he had me open up about my stresses and anxieties. Maybe he liked my vulnerability, but anyway, he wasn't able to stay in Wellington so I was back to the website.
Le Chic
Enter Silver, AKA “the Frenchman”, who was a very different character to the more cheeky Mr Mischievous. He was very much a lover of the ladies. Although his English was fine, his primary language was French. I knew some basic French and he liked it when I spoke in to him in French comment ca va?’ ca va, et toi? Tres bein!’ hehe. The Frenchman wanted me to be sexy and look classy for him and he was willing to pay. He preferred darker hair so he paid for expensive hair styling and colouring, and shopping at David Jones for MAC make-up for those luscious lips and smoky eyes, and a generous clothing allowance – I felt spoilt spending so much (of his) money on these things. I got money for my time as well, but I also felt like I was being someone else for him. I feel more comfortable in a casual tank top or long tee and jeans or leggings and a pair of Vans or Chucks but with him he always liked me to be dressed up and wearing heels. I argued with him that my chucks were fashionable and practical, but heels weren’t exactly practical (cue photo posing with lawn mower in heels).
One encounter we played a fun game of Would you Rather - try it yourself https://psycatgames.com/app/would-you-rather/, to learn more about each other. We’d kiss, then we tried the adult questions, which led to us making out more, he’d slide his hand up my thigh…
I’ve re-written this about 3 times now. I don't want to rush through everything, but I have a terrible habit of going off on wild tangents when I’m writing. A parting piece must be written with care, so I’ve given plenty of thought over what is relevant to share here and what is just me rambling on. I know I'm not the best writer, but I try.
I might have been a bit too brief about what happened in the past that effected my confidence. See, I had helped out a few people earlier - basically they screwed-up with someone else and I swung in to the rescue. I felt like, being helpful and saving their butts meant I could count on them when I needed something in return. Oh no, I was wrong, they turned their back on me when I needed them, so hell yeah I felt betrayed, like no one had my back. I shared the situation with my friends and that helped (although sharing didn't resolve the problem I needed help with). Getting accepted into Uni was a huge relief, but it was countered with the news that one of my high school friends was going to leave Wellington to study. They met someone up there and have been together for a few years now and I'm very happy for them. I hope they'll invite me to the wedding if that day comes.
My upbringing was very much about the value in earning things yourself and being strong and independent, like going without something until you've earned enough to buy things, try and understand a person before judging them, and life is too short to stuff a mushroom. When I was a Sugar Baby for Mr Mischievous, I felt special, and that was as welcome as the financial assistance - more so in fact. I thought he'd be more interested in my appearance than me the person, but he had me open up about my stresses and anxieties. Maybe he liked my vulnerability, but anyway, he wasn't able to stay in Wellington so I was back to the website.
Le Chic
Enter Silver, AKA “the Frenchman”, who was a very different character to the more cheeky Mr Mischievous. He was very much a lover of the ladies. Although his English was fine, his primary language was French. I knew some basic French and he liked it when I spoke in to him in French comment ca va?’ ca va, et toi? Tres bein!’ hehe. The Frenchman wanted me to be sexy and look classy for him and he was willing to pay. He preferred darker hair so he paid for expensive hair styling and colouring, and shopping at David Jones for MAC make-up for those luscious lips and smoky eyes, and a generous clothing allowance – I felt spoilt spending so much (of his) money on these things. I got money for my time as well, but I also felt like I was being someone else for him. I feel more comfortable in a casual tank top or long tee and jeans or leggings and a pair of Vans or Chucks but with him he always liked me to be dressed up and wearing heels. I argued with him that my chucks were fashionable and practical, but heels weren’t exactly practical (cue photo posing with lawn mower in heels).
One encounter we played a fun game of Would you Rather - try it yourself https://psycatgames.com/app/would-you-rather/, to learn more about each other. We’d kiss, then we tried the adult questions, which led to us making out more, he’d slide his hand up my thigh…
Total Comments 8
Comments
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I'm going to have to disagree with you, heels and lawnmowers go together perfectly. You look sexy while mowing the lawn and the ground gets aerated at the same time. I really can't think of a negative here.
Posted 11-25-2020 at 05:06 AM by SirD -
Posted 11-25-2020 at 11:32 AM by CSasha -
That’s how it looks in your head, reality is your shoe gets stuck, you roll an ankle and hobble inside and get dad to finish the lawns while you ice-pack your swollen ankle.
Posted 11-25-2020 at 04:00 PM by SilverBlue -
Posted 11-25-2020 at 05:24 PM by SilverBlue -
Posted 11-27-2020 at 04:13 PM by bananabob -
Posted 11-27-2020 at 09:25 PM by SirD -
Posted 11-27-2020 at 11:22 PM by SilverBlue -
Posted 11-27-2020 at 11:24 PM by SilverBlue