There is the first frevor of sex, that time when you haven’t seen each other naked a whole lot so every time it happens, it’s new and fresh and exciting.  You can’t get enough of each other and fucking.  Sex.  Whatever.  You hold on to every moment, and it seems like it will never end.  You want to fuck every night, cling to the feel of it in the morning and the taste that still lingers on your skin.

Then it becomes that you’re tired some days.   You have been busting your ass outside all day or inside all day, and he is too tired because he’s worked all day, and you think to yourself, “Well, it’s okay, we’re tired, normal people don’t fuck all the time.  All day every day is too much to last.  We can do it tomorrow night.”

And tomorrow night comes, and you fuck and it’s awesome.  For about another month.

Then it starts to be three nights in a row.  Then a week.  Then it becomes an occasion.  Suddenly, you’re counting the days since you last had sex.  You’re wondering if it’s still there.  You’re wondering if it’s become so commonplace or if he doesn’t want to anymore because he doesn’t think the spark is there.

Then it becomes a few weeks between fucking.  Then months.  Then not at all.

And at that point, you are sitting in bed every night thinking and wondering if he loves your body at all, if he remembers what it was like in the first weeks of the relationship’s consumation.  If he sees you as comfort, housecleaning and babysitter or if there’s something still under the surface that’s just not making the trip up anymore.

By the end of it, you are convinced he has no desire for you like that anymore.  By the end of it, you wonder why you even tried for so long.  By the end of it, your self esteem is so low you feel like you could crawl through the core of the Earth.

That’s not where it is.  But this is where it starts.  How do I make it where it stops for once?

He mentioned something about a girl that he had slept with — that she had a small clit.

In my head, the first thing that came to mind was, Wait, aren’t they all the same size?

Later, I went through the mental list of the four women I have had the pleasure of having sexual contact with.  I really, for the life of me, couldn’t remember any of them having a smaller or larger clit than I do.  I mean, I had my face down in their pussies for three of them, and I think the tongue is a pretty sensitive organ, right?  For the other, it was fingers alone — but still, you’d think I’d remember if it was -that- much smaller than mine.

So then I started wondering if women existed that had freakishly small or large clits.  Would sex be worse for those with smaller clits?  Would it be better for those with larger clits?  Fucking weird, I know, but … think about it.  Is it like a guy having a small cock?

Is it hereditary?

Are there “miracle” clit creams?  Do these chicks get that spam because they Google “clit enlargement”?

Then I started thinking about my own clit.  We’ve had a pretty good relationship, although it took some time getting to know each other.  When I first started masturbating, it was more like polishing very tarnished silver [odd analogy, I know, but work with me here].  Now, it’s more like if I pull my panties on too fast I get excited.  Of course, I’m *supposedly* in my sexual prime due to my age, so that may have something to do with it.

If anyone has any opinions or information, I’d be happy to hear it.  And don’t even get me started on the labia…

Two specific incidents, however, stand out pretty clearly in my mind.

The first time I remember, we were still together.  I think I had spent the night or some such thing, and his parents had moved out to leave his brother and him living in the house.  They hadn’t separated it into two living spaces yet.  And, as with many non-married guys, the house most of the time was a sty.

I remember I asked him if he wanted something to eat.  He said ‘yes’, so I wandered into the kitchen in nothing but a pair of underwear and a long pink sweater that reached to just below the curve of my thighs.  I can even say that the entire thing was incredibly sexy even to me:  I was in that getup, making him food, and my hair was total girly bed-head.

So he walked into the kitchen, and slithered up behind me, and wrapped his arms around me.  He nuzzled my neck, caressed my inner thighs while I believe I was cooking eggs.  Then he roughly turned me around, pushed me against the counter, and said something along the lines of, “I could do you right here.”  So he was less suave in those days… hell, so was I!

I teased him.  I ran my hand along the outline of his cock through his jeans.  I leaned in to nibble on his neck.  I giggled in his ear.

And then I pulled away and finished cooking the eggs. 

The second time I remember EXTREMELY clearly.  We had broken up and I was completely pissed off at him.  My best friend at the time had been dating his brother, so I went over to see her and he happened to be alone in his bedroom.  So, in I went.

It was early afternoon, and I remember the sun coming in from the windows behind his bed on the floor.  I don’t remember what I said.  I remember I pushed him back on the bed, started kissing him, and grinding my hips against his as I straddled him.

I kept my shirt on.  So did he.  The pants, on the other hand, came off rather quickly.

I lowered myself onto his cock, and I even remember biting my bottom lip.  I began to fuck him fairly hard, riding him with all of my anger and frustration.  His radio was on at the time, and I remember bending so I could hiss the lyrics of the song into his ears.  It was Korn’s Blind.  I felt it was appropriate.

I didn’t get off that time, but he did.  I remember thinking as I was getting dressed that now I had fucked his new girlfriend over as well.  It made me feel very self-satisfied.  It made me feel even strong.

I didn’t really speak to him again until years later, when he was single and I was married.

But I guess that’s a different story for a different day, even though there’s no sex in that particular tale.

Heh.

There’s a post below this one if you wanna read that one too.  Heh.

SO!  This might take a while, so you’ve been warned.

When I was about 22 years old, a friend of mine introduced me to blogging.  I was hesitant at first, but after a few posts I liked the format and being able to express myself fairly anonymously on the internet.  The ease of posting was extremely preferable to a traditional web page, and I liked messing with the format and making my own little layouts to go with the words I was typing.

It went on this way for quite some time, until I realized that I was actually getting regular readers.  People were following my blog and were actually interested in what I had to say.  My posts got more bold and eventually, I started writing sexual content on my blog.

However, within the first blog I wrote, there were just some things that I didn’t want people to read.  Eventually, I bought two domain names, loaded up WordPress to the web space I was paying for monthly, and had two blogs.  One was the traditional blog that had snippets of my daily life.  The other was a blog appropriately named “Flipside” that contained exclusively sexual content: stories, true stories, and just thoughts on sex in general.

I really didn’t think anything would come of it.  However, I still had followers at my regular blog, while my porn blog started to get at least 100 hits per day.  Although it may not sound like much, with so many different porn blogs around at the time, I realized that 100 people going to my blog per day was quite a bit … not to mention the unique hits from new people finding the blog.

At the time, I was seeing a guy who was about six years younger than me.  Although he was younger, he was also the first person to introduce me to the wonderful world of BDSM. (If you don’t know what that is … look it up, dear)

I started posting about our relationship.  As the years went by, I fell more in love with the guy and also more in love with BDSM in general.  Pain, it seemed, was the best way to get me off.  Who knew?

Then, two things happened.  First, my porn blog was plagiarized.  This made me extremely wary of posting any new content — I didn’t like the idea that someone else was taking credit for my writing.  Shortly thereafter, the guy I had been seeing for a little over three years took his own life by shooting himself in the head.

That stopped my writing entirely.

My web space and domain names ran out.  Eventually, both blogs went the way of the dinosaurs.  I didn’t write online for a long time — partially because someone that I looked up to at the time told me that blogging was a waste of time, and I decided to believe that person.

I started this blog when I was involved with another man from the BDSM community.  We were together for three years.  Two of those years were … well … without anything having to do with BDSM.  Contrary to popular belief, it’s extremely hard to keep a BDSM relationship going 24-7.  There were other relationship problems there as well.

So I stopped writing here, too.

For a long time, actually, if it weren’t already obvious.

And now?  I don’t know.  I feel like posting again.  I’m not sure where the inspiration is coming from, or how long it will last.  I will say that it’s nice to be writing again, even if the “porn” content will be somewhat lacking.

As for the name of this blog : I used to identify exclusively as a submissive within the context of BDSM.  As time went by, however, I began to realize that I liked both sides of the coin — both the submissive side and the dominant side.  It was confusing and somewhat distressing.  If you identify as submissive, suddenly realizing you like BOTH makes it a bit hard to figure out who you are.

“When For Switches” sort of has a dual meaning, then.  “Switches” in general are implements to cause pain to submissives.  Also, a “switch” is a person who can be both submissive and dominant.

As I sit here, crazy weather going on outside, I actually wanna fuck again.  After two years, it’s kinda shocking, even to me.

Here’s hoping it lasts.

The second time ended with some sort of a metal fragment coming off some other vehicle on the highway and decapitating me.

The third time … well, it wasn’t pretty.

Yes, that’s right, I’m talking to a guy that I first went out with when I was 18 years old.  Don’t judge!

Our first venture into relationshipdom was … bliss.  Yes, it was the first time I experienced true love!  I was on cloud nine the entire 8 months of that relationship!  It was like flying!

… until he dumped me.  Why?  Because he said I was too good for him.  What.  The.  Fuck.  Ever.

So the second time, he was married and said he still felt for me what he’d felt for me 10 years before.  Now, I still believe that he did feel those things — but he was also married at the time.  With kids.  Eventually, it ended up she found out and … well, it ended badly that time.

So let’s move on to now.  She hasn’t lived with him in three months.  She’s also been cheating on him with another dude.  CLEARLY they have problems beyond me from the very beginning, right?  Now he’s telling me that he’s getting divorced, and yes I still love him.  In that particular brand of love, however, I am feeling EXTREMELY leery of the entire situation.  As in, if and when he gets divorced from this chick, THAT’S when I will start trusting him again.

Until then… I don’t know what to do.  I keep opening up and thinking directly after that I’m just going to get hurt again.  How do I protect myself yet still show him that I’d be willing to make it work if he would just do that one thing?

I don’t know.  I hate this part right here.

Quite honestly, I don’t watch a lot of porn.  Usually, when I masturbate, my mind is blank.  I usually masturbate to A) fall asleep, B) not be horney anymore.  Those are the only two reasons… not because it feels good or anything that might be a regular reason.

Every once in a while, though, I turn to my friend to find stuff to masturbate to.  Quite honestly, I either hit the free clips at qmov.com, or run over to see what’s up at thehun.net.  However, I just can’t get off to porn unless it looks like someone’s getting hurt or someone is being a shittard.

I like that word.  I use it when I speak to people.  Shittard.  That, and doucheface.

I digress.

I can watch the straight porn.  I just don’t like it.  I also don’t like when girls in the videos fuckin’ over-do it with the noises.  Girls — I know that men might not be able to tell that you’re faking, but I can.  Stop thinking about that shopping list and learn to act a bit better.

Maybe that’s why I like the videos with the pain in them?  Maybe pain makes everything a bit more real.  But if you want to see my favorite clip over at qmov.com, this is it:

CLICK HERE

OMG.

The objectification in that clip is awesome.  And the chick really does sort of yodel with some sort of pain/pleasure.  And the guys are both fucktards and douchefaces.

Maybe I’ve got some BDSM still in me.  I still find that notion debatable. 

Master and I have broken up (almost six months ago) and I’m unsure if I even like the whole M/s thing anymore.  It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything to do with “the lifestyle” that I don’t know if it even holds any appeal to me anymore.  I’ve been getting along fairly fine without it.

Companionship on the other hand, that would be nice.

Maybe I’m just getting old.  I don’t know.  Fortunately, I didn’t name this blog “raging nympho” or anything, otherwise by this point it would -really- need a new name.

Anyone else go through dry spells?

Surprised you to find that I’m laughing?
You thought that you’d find me in tears
You thought I’d be crawling the walls
Like a tiny mosquito and trembling in fear

Well you may be king for the moment
But I am a queen understand
And I’ve got your pawns and your bishops
And castles
All inside the palm of my hand

While you were looking the other way
While you had your eyes closed
While you were licking your lips
‘Cause I was miserable

While you were selling your soul
While you were tearing a hole in me

I was taking control

Now I have taken control
…CONTROL
Now I have taken control
…CONTROL
NOW I HAVE TAKEN CONTROL
…CONTROL

This is beginning to feel good
Watching you squirm in your shoes
A small bead of sweat on your brow
And a growl in your belly you’re scared to let through

You thought you could keep me from loving
You thought you could feed on my soul
But while you were busy destroying my life
What was half in me has become whole

While you were looking the other way
While you had your eyes closed
While you were licking your lips
‘Cause I was miserable

While you were selling your soul
While you were tearing a hole in me

I was taking control

Now I have taken control
…CONTROL
Now I have taken control
…CONTROL
NOW I HAVE TAKEN CONTROL
…CONTROL

So this is how it feels
To breath in the summer air
To feel the sand between my toes
And love inside my ear

All those things that you taught me to fear
I’ve got them in my garden now
And YOU’RE not welcome here
COME HERE

Come a little bit closer
Let me look at you
I gave you the benefit
Of the doubt it’s true
But keep in mind my darling
Not every saint is a fool

While you were looking the other way
While you had your eyes closed
While you were licking your lips
‘Cause I was miserable

While you were selling your soul
While you were tearing a hole in me

I was taking control
Now I have taken control
I WAS TAKING CONTROL
Now I have taken control
…CONTROL

Don’t you mess with me

First eight times before work, a few times before taking care of some mundane business, and then a few more times just now.

Why is it that sometimes I forget how much I like being a slut?

And here is a neat youtube video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tUD5gI8DOWA

If they ever come to my town, I so wanna go see them.