(It irritates me somewhat that single-letter abbreviations require apostrophes.  My brain is itching to remove them because they make the letters look possessive.  But I know I shouldn’t; I know it’s correct to leave them there.  Grrr.)

You guys ROCK with the questions.   Feel free to keep them coming.  In the meantime, here are more answers!

From vanillamom:

1 – funnest bdsm thing? Like bondage? tied up tits? clamps on the nips? forced to O until you want to die…and loving it anyway? wax play?

Most FUN?  Hrm… I’m going to go with the elusive Perfect Nipple Pain.  This is not to be confused with Horrible Nipple Pain or Not-Painful-Enough Nipple Pain.

It’s the PERFECT kind, you see.  That shit is awesome.

Incidentally, why does everything hurt way more coming OFF nipples than it does while it’s on?  Removal always seems to be the worst bit, I swear.  What the fuck is that about? 

2 – and on that note, things you’ve not done yet that you’d like to try someday?

This is such a loaded question.  Tsk, nilla, TSK!  You KNOW if I say something freaky here, I’m so going to regret it. I guess something I want to try, so to speak, is going somewhere kink-friendly.  I know that’s not entirely in the spirit of the question, but I really do want to do it.  Like Spankfest.  I really want to go and, you know, pee on kaya shave kaya’s head just hang out and be around other people who are comfortable with the kinky part of this lifestyle.  Maybe get some ideas while we’re at it.

From subtle:

1. Do you enjoy blogging or do you find it a huge pain in the ass most of the time?

Both, I think.

I wish I had something to WRITE about.  I know this probably will partially resolve itself when I’m living with Antonio.  You guys will have to sit through me whining about adjusting to everything, deciding I’m a failure (probably once a month, at least.  Consider this fair warning), and freaking out about various things.  BUT, in exchange, you’ll get to hear about more fun stuff we do together too. 

I will probably SUCK at writing about anything kinky, because it just makes me all weird.  But I’m sure there will be more stories like this one.  (In case you are too lazy to click, that’s the post where I detailed piss-drinking with a side of farting.  Because I’m classy like that.) But even THAT post started out as just a private email, and I was coerced into actually posting.  I was all, “Dude, people don’t want to hear about THAT.  They want all that hot, raunchy, weirdly written stuff.  I mean, right?  Why else would people talk about ‘throbbing members’ and ‘glistening mounds’ and call clits ‘nubs’ and ‘tight bundles of nerves’ and everything seems to be ‘heaving’ and OMG I CANNOT write like that.”

So, uh, anyway…

I wish I were more interesting. 

I wish I weren’t so paranoid that everyone hates me, too.  I will admit I have some uncharitable thoughts about a few bloggers and what a load of obnoxious, redundant, petulant dullards they are, and I’m terrified everyone thinks the same thing about me.

2. Do you like living with people (I’m still scarred from my uni dorm days…)?

I do, for the most part.  I’m not terribly hard to get along with.  And I’ve never made the mistake of rooming with a stranger.  My freshman year of college, I went to a HUGE school.  Well, okay, let’s just be honest here since I’m proud of being a smarty-pants – I went to NYU. (That’s New York University for anyone who didn’t know the acronym.)  I think everyone can figure out I was in New York City when I was 18 years old (freshman year time), due to my accounts of September 11th.  There aren’t that many “HUGE” schools south of 14th street.  So, there you go. I went to NYU.  Bam.

ANYWAY, I knew it was going to be an adventure – and boy, was it.  I wanted my room to be a safe haven.  So I went against the advice of all the well-meaning adults who were all, “Room with a stranger!  That’s the REAL college experience!” and roomed with a girl I had known and gone to school with since I was 7 years old.  Living with Irene was GREAT.  I’m so glad I did that.

Later, I transferred to a different huge university in a different city.  There, I lived alone for a year in university housing.  The following year I lived with Anne in a university apartment.  Then Anne and I lived together off-campus.  We went our separate ways for a while – both working – and then we got a house together for a year.  Separate ways again, and now I’m going to move into her condo.

We have opposite schedules and we respect each other’s time and space.  We go grocery shopping together, like the same wine, never are short of things to talk about, and love each other’s company.  In fact, despite the fact that I’m going to be living with her very shortly, we still feel the need to hang out a lot.  I’m going to see her tonight before work.

Basically, I like living with the people I CHOOSE to live with, and I’ve made wise choices so far.

3. How do you cope with the ’sex droughts’ when you don’t get to see the A-man for ages?

Sex toys do an adequate job when I’m desperate, but really, I just try not to think about it.  It’s hard, trust me, and it’s always worst leading up to time with him and right after. 

For the record, Antonio is NOT HELPFUL AT ALL when it comes to this endeavor of mine.  He seems to view it as a divine calling to try to catch me off guard and sexualize things while I’m doing my best to be zen in non-sexual-thinking mode. 

Case and point – he is away working this week in some godforsaken house in the mountains with no cell reception and no internet.  He caught the net at a restaurant when he and the crew he’s with have gone out to eat, but that’s it. When we were texting the morning he was driving down to the job site, I asked at what point I can assume texts are useless. You know, how long to wait without getting a reply before I can stop texting things (like when I arrive at work and at home) since he can’t get them.

He took that opportunity to reply with “I wish your whore mouth was on my cock right now.”  And I haven’t heard another text from him since – he got out of range.

Like I said, it’s a divine calling.

4. Piece of technology you can’t live without?

My iPhone, no question.

5. What does the A-man look like? Give me a famous person he looks like or some other hint so I can get an image of him when you write about him.

Ooooh!  Good question!

Antonio is about 5’10” tall, and you’d think twice about picking a fight with him. He’s a former Marine and currently works a physical job, so it’s obvious when you look at him that he’s pretty damn strong. 

He can put on a really intense mean face, too, so that adds to his “don’t fuck with me” vibe.  (He had a past girlfriend actually complain about how intimidating he can look.) I think it’s great. 

He’s half Spanish and half Italian, so his skin is always a varying degree of tan.  Always. It looks like caramel, and I am always amazed people don’t try to lick him.

He has facial hair, too.  What the internet refers to as a circle beard.  All the hair on his body is a dark brown/blackish (except for the rouge grey hairs).  He has an odd (odd for his heritage, I suppose) lack of hair on his body.  It’s appreciated – I don’t dig super hairy men. 

And, as I posted before, he has TERRIFYINGLY huge hands. (Evidence here.  When you look at that, keep in mind that my hands are pretty big themselves.  Nothing about me is small, including my hands.  From palm to the tip of my middle finger is about 8”.  And his hands STILL dwarf mine.)

Now… As for the celebrity comparison… That’s tough.  Sometimes I tell people he looks like he could have been an extra on The Sopranos, but that’s not an actual person.  So I’m going with Jimmy Smits.  Not West-Wing-Jimmy-Smits, or Dexter-Jimmy-Smits… Not the proper facial hair in those shows.  The Man is more like Jimmy Smits here, or here.  Mostly that first one – The Man enjoys sunglasses.

For the record, Antonio looks at me like I’m batshit-crazy when I make this comparison.  So he quite possibly looks NOTHING like Mr. Smits and is, in fact, closer to looking like Angelina Jolie than he is to Jimmy Smits.  However, Antonio looks at me like I’m batshit-crazy on a pretty regular basis, so let’s not jump to any conclusions  about my sanity here, okay?  Okay.

And I gotta head off so I can get ready to go see Anne!