Poly Nirvana

Love, Life and Rational Polyamory


~Daydream For A Succubus~ (BOAW3 )

This is absolutely NSFW.  


As I have gotten older, I have come to a place where I can reconcile my sexuality with my mainstream socialization that “nice girls don’t”. I was forty-two years old before I discovered the pleasure and beauty of my own sexuality. My sexy. My sex.

My sexy is mine, and mine alone.  There are no rules or stipulations put on me, except for those I put on myself. Pleasure, for pleasure’s sake, is beautiful and lovely and desirable.  I take pleasure in good food, in glorious music, and in the lush desire I feel when I allow myself to be fully submerged in the fullness of my sexuality.  I still argue with my inner nice girl.  Stop, I whisper.  Nice girls DO.  Own your beauty.

~Daydream For A Succubus~

I am a nice girl. A wholesome girl. Little old ladies love me. I am kind to animals; I love herbal tea. I crochet things for people I love. And I have a happy little thought that floats through my mind, countless times, every single day.

I love cock.

Some days I find myself just biding my time until I know I can have it. I try to keep myself busy, but I’m just filling the hours until I get my hands on my very favorite thing. I think about it, I salivate over it, I masturbate to the memory of it. My body simply waits for it; no matter what other distractions come… whether fingers or toys, they are simply a substitute for what I am begging for in my head.

And then, the time comes, and you are within reach. I cannot sit still as I try to make conversation, to engage in proper social etiquette. Your eyes fall on me, and my voice catches in my throat. Underneath my wholesome good girl exterior, I am a panting, breathless whore for you, and I don’t want you to know. Not yet.

You make me wait for you, until every cell of my body is screaming to have you. Finally, I feel you pause against me, barely moving, until my world goes dark and my body has no purpose outside of feeling the whole of you inside of me.

So give me cock. Give me that moment, the moment when my body finally relaxes as you slide into me and I exhale slowly as I am finally given what I love. Take my breath for your own: that single whisper of air that exits my body as you enter it, belongs only to you.



All participants and commenters in this year’s Beauty Of A Woman Blogfest will be entered in a drawing for a 50.00 gift card… Plus you get to read some awesome writing celebrating the diversity and beauty of womanhood as defined by bloggers from all over!  Click on the banner above, the Official start date is tomorrow, February 24th for the Girl Boner edition, and February 27th for the Original edition.  ~Ginger



Someone asked me a question last night that was much harder to answer than I expected it to be.

“So what’s your kink, Ginger?” he asked.

I like some kinky things, and I dislike others. I love fire. I dislike electricity. My feet are a crazy hot erogenous zone, and respond to all sorts of things. I enjoy thuddy impact; but I do like enduring stingy impact. I’m not a huge fan of rope, though I like being restrained and constricted. I love a struggle.

But that wasn’t really the question.

I’ve been thinking on this all morning. I’ve often said, that my favorite thing about the kink community is all the people I have the chance to meet and know, people I might not ever have crossed paths with in my day to day life, had I not found this circle of association. I love the diversity and range of personalities and experiences that I get to interact with; those connections, whether brief or ongoing, serve to teach me things about myself, and about who I am.


In the end, my kink is not the people themselves. It’s the dance. It’s that energy exchange which occurs with each interaction. Ultimately, it’s finding those rare people who, somehow, I simply click with. I do not play with many people, and this is because that indefinable, positive energy connection is so very important to me. When that is present, I feel safe and strong and vulnerable and open, and for me, that is the absolute hottest thing in my world. It allows me to give myself over to the dynamic, and to let it be what it’s going to be. That connection, left unlabeled, lets the dynamic develop organically and I am free to give myself over to it, without predetermined expectations of role boundaries. I love the unknown aspect of that.

I adore allowing myself those infinite possibilities with each new person who crosses my path.

So the next time someone asks me, “What’s your kink, Ginger?” I’m just going to smile and say:

“This. This is my kink. You and me, and everything that comes next. Dance with me.”

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~The Girl~

[Note: Originally written as I began to explore kink. Not necessarily NSFW, but I have held back talk of kink here as I settled into a rhythm and focus for Poly Nirvana. This needs to be here now. This needs to be owned.]

I am a girl.

I love being a girl. I love the curls and the giggles and the flirty looks. I absolutely adore the pink lips and the sweet perfume. Curled eyelashes? Yes, please. I get a little thrill when I’m click-clicking along in a great pair of heels and a man does a double-take and hesitates so he can hold a door open for me. I like my hips and my fleshy curves, and the way my body reacts to the right touch, by the right man, at the right time.

But what I enjoy most about being a girl is the illusion. The illusion that I am delicate and fragile and in need of a big strong man to scoop me up in his manly arms and protect me. In reality, I am fierce. Independent. Ferociously capable. I am in control.

I like control. It’s what I know. But I am completely, and utterly exhausted.

Exhausted trying to control things that are not mine to worry about. Tired of trying to say and not say, or do and not do, all the right things so that X, Y, or Z outcome will or will not happen. I am a strong, stubborn, self-sufficient woman, who is barely keeping her head above water, but doesn’t know how to let go.

Except for those moments, when I put on my prettiest pink lipgloss, and I smile happily at the man who has brought me a drink, or held open a door, or laid rope against my body in such a way that for a short time, my illusion of control is gone from me, and I can just be a girl, who is watched over and safe. I allow myself the surrender that will give me a few minutes of internal peace. I make a choice. A choice to be the broken girl who needs to be put back together, who needs to be shown that it can be good and safe to allow someone else to decide what’s next. I don’t choose where the flogger falls, or the crop lands. In that small space, all illusion dissipates, and I simply exist in my space, with no thought to what comes next.

Because being this girl is exhausting.

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I want my brain to quiet and simply be.

I want to be alone in the place that teaches me that I am stronger than I think, that I am whole, that I am complete.

I want to sink into the depths of myself, where I slowly, gently, touch those dark corners of my inner core, feeling with my ethereal fingertips, the grit and grime that needs to be purged. Let me sit with it. Make me let go of the pretense, the pressure, the expectations. Give me permission to embrace my imperfection. Take me there. Hold me under the thickness, make me feel the weight of it on top of me, and when I thrash and fight to come up for air, push me down again, and again, and keep me there, until the acceptance of my strength and my choice finally comes, and the pain dims and holds me, like a cloak, and I am free to gather it around me and pull it close. I want to clutch that pain to me, drawing it in closer with each breath, until I am at once, reduced to the very essence of self, and set free from the confinement of everything that is me.

Once I am there, stand guard. Keep me safe and watch over me, until, after a time, you reach down and pull me out. Bring me back with steady insistence, that yes, I am loved. Yes, I am flawed and I am broken and I am imperfect, and still, you see my exquisite resolve to embrace the darkness that swirls within my light. For it is this balance that I desperately crave.