Monday, June 4, 2018

The Eating of the Crow

One of the very best things about having my own blog is being able to speak my mind without having anyone there to temper my words.

One of the very worst things about having my own blog is being able to speak my mind without having anyone there to temper my words.
Fresh Catch
I stand by all the things I said in my post yesterday, but I failed to look beyond my anger and see other sides of what is a many-faceted problem that needs more discussion than I could handle in elebenty bajillion posts.

I left out some things, and glossed over some others.

Let me say this first of all:

Falsely accusing someone of rape is just as vile as raping someone.

Both of these actions destroy lives, and I'm just pretty much generally against destroying anyone's life.

I shouldn't have gendered my post. Men are victims, too. Current statistics say it's as many as 1 in 6 men have been sexually harassed, abused, assaulted or raped. It's also an incredibly UNDER reported crime, just as rape against women is.

And none of that takes into account the abuse that the trans community receives.

So, no, it's not just women. And all of it is abhorrent.

Secondly, I didn't give nearly enough thought or words to those falsely accused. It happens, and it's probably happening more and more now that the "me, too" movement has taken off and people like Bill Cosby and Harvey Weinstein are paying for their crimes.

When I was saying it wasn't a witch hunt, what I meant and didn't articulate at all, was that when it's he says vs. she says and she says and she says and she says a dozen times over, there's a pretty damn good chance the accusations are true.
I much prefer steak.
When it's he says vs she says, with no other accusers or witnesses or proof, what should we do? Who is to be believed?

I don't know. I really don't.

When trying to compare the viciousness of the crimes in my head, it's difficult for me. Rapist? Lock them away forever. False accusers? Yeah, lock them away, too.

There are unquestionably different degrees of sexual harassment, assault and rape, though. There's the 18 year old dating the 17 year old that gets locked up for statutory rape and ends up having to register as a sex offender for the rest of his life. His life is ruined, and I think, hope, that we can all agree that is wrong. There are violent rapists who deserve to burn not just in the pits of hell, but in a pit of our own making here on earth because fuck them and fuck showing them mercy.

Are there different degrees to those who make false accusations? This isn't nearly as clear to me because I can only see someone who would do that to another person as pure unfiltered evil. Not only are they destroying an innocent man's life (and I'm using genders here because I've never heard a case of a man falsely accusing women but I'm sure it's happened), but they are also destroying the credibility of women people who are real victims. They are making it much more difficult for those real victims to come forward.

It's worth talking about, isn't it? Calm, rational discussion rather than my angry blog post from last night? I should have spoken to those women privately, one on one. I have had a conversation with one of them today who read my post, the one who made the witch hunt comment. We're both on the same side. I made unwarranted assumptions regarding the basis of her comment.

I was wrong.

Simple as that, given context, I was absolutely wrong.
Maybe a nice salad?
Turns out that she has a friend who was falsely accused and lost everything - job, wife, reputation, everything, and you can't get that back. The accuser finally admitted she made it all up. This gentleman was accused and convicted without the benefit of a trial. The clock couldn't be turned back, the damage couldn't be undone.

That is terrifying. It's absolutely terrifying that that can happen. I have no idea what the woman's reasoning was, but does it really matter? She absolutely destroyed him with lies.

This can't happen, for all our sake. For the men who are ruined and for the people who are true victims of sexual crimes that are afraid to speak out.

Our justice system is fucked. We do not hand out punishments that fit the crimes, from murderers who get a slap on the wrist to some dumb kid smoking a joint in his car that ends up in prison for three years and a felony on his record forever. Ethan Couch. Alice Marie Johnson. Countless others that the justice system utterly fucked the fuck up on.

So what do we do?

We keep talking. We keep being civil to each other. Oh, and just as important, if not more important, is listening. We have to hear each other.

And for the record, I'm guilty, too. In my younger, drunker, stupider years, I know I grabbed a few asses in bars absolutely without consent. It never once entered my mind that what I was doing was wrong. We're conditioned to believe that men enjoy it.

With the benefit of age, I know now that what I did was wrong. Absolutely wrong. Being young, drunk and female is no excuse. I've had the opportunity to apologize to one of the men because he was, and has remained, a friend over the last quarter of a century. The others... I barely remember them, didn't know them, so let this be a blanket apology to ALL men who've been on the flip side of the coin and had some sloppy drunk chick paw on them in a bar.
Eh, what the hell... I'll go all in.
And that's why we have to keep having these conversations. Yes, parents need to teach their boys about consent and all that it entails, but they also need to be teaching their girls as well. Consent - giving it and receiving it. It needs to be a gender-fluid discussion. Men, women, and every possible identity in between.

I'm still learning, folks, and I hope you are as well. I made a mistake based on assumptions. Hell, I've clearly made lots of mistakes based on assumptions. Crow is something I've learned to swallow. It's never pleasant, but is always necessary.

But no matter what, let's keep having the conversation, okay?

A word of warning, though... I'm probably not done with this topic. I didn't even touch on the sloppy drunken bad sex that happens in college where women wake up with regrets and decide they were raped. Campus rape is a real problem, but so are bad decisions and binge drinking. If a drunk woman is incapable of giving consent, a drunk man is equally incapable. Put those two together and it's a recipe for disaster.

99.5% of the people I've encountered in my 48 years have been wonderful, thoughtful, caring, kind people. The true evil ones, thankfully, have been few and far between. I believe most people are basically good, if misguided... and I include myself in that sometimes.

You'd think I'd have learned by now that sometimes words come from people's mouths without the intent to cause harm, considering I do it myself so often. Let my mistakes be a lesson... and remind me when I spew things without thought, that there are multiple sides to every story. I'm not unreasonable... just passionate.

Perhaps too passionate at times. 🌝

Sunday, June 3, 2018

Slut Shaming & Victim Blaming

I haven't done one of these posts for a while. Lately it's all been about sex and Second Life and I haven't touched so much on real world topics.

But I need to get this off my chest.
Last weekend I was in a club, dancing, having a good time when the topic of conversation took a turn. The DJ made a joke about something, I think maybe the claims against Morgan Freeman but I'm not sure. I was only half paying attention.

But then one of the women chimed in about how sick she is of the Me, Too movement. And then another chimed in, agreeing with her, and then another.
I had to leave before I got in a very heated argument with them. It wasn't the time or place, but...


No. Just fucking no.

I'm (mostly) sexually submissive, yes. I do think men and women are different, yes.

I'm also a fucking feminist and have been around the block several fucking times. Maybe they're just young and haven't been in that position before. Guess what? I have. Many fucking times growing up. Once I hit puberty and got tits, a lot of men decided they were, literally, up for grabs.
I mean, I understand WHY they wanted to grab them, but...
I came of age in the 80s. My body matured young... when I was 12, I could easily pass for 18. That got me in some situations beyond my control, but let's look beyond that.

I was 16 when I got my first job. I was working part time after school in a store owned by a friend of my dad's. This friend, my boss, used to come up behind me when I was standing at the counter and grind against me. When we'd close the store at night, he'd say things like "why don't you come home with me and we'll take a bath together?" I'd laugh awkwardly, as a 16 year old does, and jump in my car to get away from something that I knew was wrong... but didn't really understand what and why.

These things weren't talked about then. Date rape was something that was just beginning to be a thing. Oh, and, yes, I did have a date with a guy I'd had a crush on for years that took me parking, put the keys down his pants and tried to shove his entire fist in my pussy. Did I say no? Well, I moved his hand quite a few times when his fingers were creeping towards me and tried to keep my thighs clamped shut. But I was shy. And I was alone with him out in the woods. And I didn't fucking know what I was supposed to do, so I eventually stopped fighting it and took it.
Is that consent? No, it really fucking isn't. He didn't manage to get his fist inside me... hell, I hadn't even had a dick inside me at that point, but he certainly left some damage. I didn't realize how much until I got home and realized my panties were soaked in blood.

(Karma's a bitch... a couple years later his miserable ass got drunk and thought it'd be funny to play Russian roulette. He lost and I got the chance to spit on his grave.)

Was that the last time? To that extent, yes, but there have been dozens and dozens of times over the years where men have grabbed my ass in a bar, or a date kept getting handsy even after I'd swatted his hands away over and over. Dozens of times when men didn't take no for an answer until I had to say something along the lines of "Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Was I raped? No... but as you can see from the two stories above, I was certainly sexually assaulted.

Did you know I lived and worked in Hollywood during the years Harvey Weinstein was at the top of his game? I did. I was old enough by then to not take shit from men, but I knew a lot of young actresses trying to get a fair shot at having a career.
I could tell stories and I could name names, and they would be names you know. These women didn't keep quiet about it then... they told their friends, their agents, whoever was around. We'd get together and have drinks and the stories would come out. "Oh my god... he did that same thing to me!" was something I'd often hear. I could tell you some shit. Some names wouldn't shock you, but I bet I know a couple that would.

These women who are coming forward now with their accusations about men in Hollywood aren't lying, folks. They've been coming forward forever but it wasn't until Ronan Farrow, a man, wrote an expose that anyone listened. That anyone fucking cared. I'm thankful to Ronan, but god damn... why did it take until a man wrote about it for anyone to take it seriously and do something?
Any woman who says she's never been in that type of situation with a man is either lying, or grew up incredibly sheltered. You feel powerless. Confused. Angry. Hopeless.

And it's not even a case of thinking no one would believe you if you told your story... it's that no one cared. Everyone in Hollywood knows it's happening and everyone for decades has just turned their heads and looked the other way. The women all knew that if they went to the police, it would be their word against his. His powerful lawyers against the barely-passed-the-bar ambulance chaser that's all they can afford. They were all told by women older and wiser to keep their mouths shut if they wanted a career in Hollywood. Their agents, publicists, managers... all told them to hush their pretty little mouths.

And now they aren't, and these imbecilic men are being held accountable for their reprehensible, inexcusable actions, finally. Fucking finally.

And that shit is going to trickle down. From Hollywood, to Washington, to your neighborhood store. Men are going to learn that, no, they don't have the right to any woman's body. We aren't just "things" that men can use as they see fit.
And then I hear these women... women... making excuses for these men. Blaming the victims. "They knew what they were getting into."

Oh for fuck's sake! Haven't we moved beyond that? The whole "she was asking for it", "she shouldn't have dressed that way" bullshit? Just when I think we're making some damn progress, I realize there are still women... not men, no, they were wisely keeping their mouths shut... but women who are perpetuating this fallacy that a victim is in any way responsible for what happened to her, and it fucking infuriates me.

These are actual quotes from women:

"to be honest I getting a bit sick of the "me too" crap... Most knew exactly what they got into before it happened.. but now they all jumping... best sentence "I coundnt do anything against it while I was a nobody, but now im mighty!" just lol.. she just got to this exactly bcuz of IT"

"ffs...guys are afraid to get on an elevator alone with a woman or tell  her she looks good much less flirt!!! omg they'll get sue for that!  zup wit dis chit?"

"but its a bad topic for a party ^^ lets drop it *smiles* lets be happy that we arent millionaire "bitches" who need publicity ^^"

"while that's true, I'm seeing a "witch-hunt" develop. Where people just need to point an accusing finger and someone looses all their work and gets sentenced without a fair trial"

What in every hell is wrong with these women?
Regarding quote number one, no, they really fucking couldn't do anything about it when they were nobodies. These men have dozens of lawyers at their disposal and on retainer. These women at the time could barely afford food and/or rent. She got powerful because she was sexually assaulted and that's supposed to be okay? No, it fucking isn't. In order to pursue the career path they'd chosen, that they had every single fucking right to pursue, they had to put up with being treated less than human, like fucking fleshlights. Fuck every single thing about that.

The second quote, that's just ridiculous fucking hyperbole unworthy of comment beyond that... except for maybe learn some basic grammar and spelling.
Third, these "millionaire bitches" don't need the publicity. What they need is for men to stop acting like horse's asses, and to stop holding their careers for ransom to be paid by being a limp rag doll that they can paw and hump and drool all over.

Fourth, it's not a fucking witch hunt. When woman after woman after woman comes forward with the same damn story, when a fucking pattern develops, it's not a god damn witch hunt. These men  have teams of lawyers, publicists, agents, and private investigators that they use to destroy these women. To absolutely obliterate them. Blacklist them. Ruin their reputations. They spend millions on this shit.

No young actress in Hollywood has those millions to blow to go against these men. That's why it's so important that they come forward with their stories so they can band together and use the truth to take down these men.

Is every accuser telling the truth? Certainly not, and I strongly believe thay anyone who makes false accusations should pay a harsh price because every time a woman lies, it makes it harder for another woman to be believed.
Outtakes... Flamingo photo-bomb
I'm just sick to death of it, y'all. 

Enough is enough. Ladies, stop embarrassing me with your backwards 1950s repressed Stepford wife bullshit.

I'm pretty fucking pissed at myself over it, too. No, maybe it wasn't the right time or place for me to school them but I really should have anyway. I have immense respect for the gentleman who owns the club; he was AFK and unaware of the discussion happening. I didn't want to want to make a scene so I... I just left. How should I have best handled it? Maybe a conference chat between the four of us? Individual IMs to each one? Educated them in local? You see, there is still a stigma about speaking up. I didn't want to be that harpy.

But these are serious issues that have been facing women since cavemen dragged their women around by the hair. It gets better little by little. Two steps forward, one step back. I feel like we're on the cusp of breakthrough, though... even with the pussy-grabber in chief sitting in the Oval Office.

Anyway, ladies... yeah, don't do what those other women did and blame the victim. If it ends up not being true, like in the Duke case, yeah, throw her to the damn wolves... but for every liar, there are hundreds, if not thousands, that are telling the truth.

And more importantly, no woman ever deserves to be assaulted or raped. It doesn't matter that she went alone to his hotel room (a suite in these cases) for a business meeting, it doesn't matter what she's wearing, it doesn't matter what her chosen occupation is (even prostitutes).

The only person to blame is the person doing the assaulting, the raping... the pussy-grabbing and tit-mauling, groping, drooling oafs that can't fucking control themselves in the presence of women.

Blame the rapist, not the raped. It's not that hard.

Saturday, May 19, 2018

Sex Machine Ready to Reload*

*bonus points if you can name that song... without cheating!

Well, hi there!

It's been a minute, hasn't it?

Look, we all knew what was going to happen, didn't we? No use dissecting the inevitable, though I am a bit surprised it ended on a rather... well, honestly, it was pretty blah as far as breakups go. No screaming, fighting, shouting, cursing or tears. I suppose it's fitting that it ended with a fizzle after the fireworks that precipitated our beginning.
Anyhoo... that's that.

And this is this. What is this? Well, on a good day I have trouble keeping my libido reined in, and on a bad day (and this wasn't a bad day... just a boring one...) I'm going to orgasm whether I'm alone or in a group of twenty.

I found this fun little HUD on the MP and had to give it a go. I like it because it has a nice long play sequence so I don't have to push any buttons... other than the one between my legs in real life. I suppose I'm just vain enough to own up to the fact that I can get myself off watching myself get off in Second Life.

Yes, ladies and jellybeans, I turn myself on.
I had a week off SL after the breakup, and not by choice. You see, my graphics card is on its way out after hanging in there for about five years. I've been keeping my computer on at all times because when I shut it off, the graphics card has a nasty little habit of not wanting to crank back up.

And then Windows did it's auto update bullshit and I came home from work to a dead computer. Nothing I did would get it to boot, and I tried every fucking thing I could think of including taking the entire damn thing apart and putting it back together again.
Why didn't I just run out and get a new graphics card? Oh, I'm poor as fuck! Well, cash poor, anyway. I'm a do-gooder out in the real world and there isn't big money to be made raising money for a smallish charity. I decided years ago, though, that I'd rather make nothing and be happy in my career giving something back to the world than slaving away in a miserable corporate job that sucked the life out of me, and society.

So yeah, cash poor and had to wait for payday. Computer was dead for a full week... and then Monday morning while I was in the shower, the power went out for a few seconds for whatever reasons cause those little glitches. I shrugged it off, went to work, came home and flipped my computer on out of habit... and the fucking thing booted right the hell up.
THAT made Beth Macbain a very, very happy woman.

Oh, I'm still replacing the card. It is way overdue, but at least now it's not an emergency. You see, when I get out of a relationship, I tend to go into heat.

Okay, yeah, I'm pretty much always in heat, but it's amplified, and I need to fuck all the men. And I couldn't! And it was tragic! Tragic!

So I've spent the few days I've been back online getting laid. Except tonight because Second Life was d-e-a-d.

And the best thing... while I was offline, a very, very beloved old friend reached out to me to keep me entertained.

Beloved old friend isn't quite accurate, though. Friend, lover... and former partner. My darling Mr. Mounier. We've never quite lost contact with each other... and he seems to always know when I need him to reach out to me.

I realized that he's the person I've known longest in SL. It's been years and years and years now. I knew him before I knew Hugh, though we didn't get together until after Hugh. Too soon after Hugh, actually, and that's ultimately why it didn't work for us.
But now? Who knows? I know I love him to the moon and back, and I know he loves me unconditionally. He is the one person who has always, always been there for me, no matter what, no matter when, no matter where.

And he makes me laugh. He probably... no, definitely... knows me better than anyone. He knows the dirtiest of my dirty little secrets, even the ones I don't post about here. 

He lifts me up and has never once asked me to change for him... aside from wanting me to have bigger boobs. I showed him the real life ones, though, and he was good with that... grins
In a world where it's not wise to trust anyone, I trust my Neo implicitly. He knows he has no reason to lie to me, nor I to him. We've already seen it all and know each other too well to pretend we're anything other than what we are.

What does that mean in SL? No idea yet. He's been gone from SL for quite a while for the most part. I would like him to come back but I understand how hard that is when you've been gone for a long time.
I'd like him to come back and be my partner in all the ways that matter. He knows that I'll never be monogamous, and I know he won't, either. But we also share the same fondness for playing together and sharing, and that makes a world of difference. 

So, yeah, that's still a TBD. But that's okay, because it's us. 
There are others as well. Shy, introverted-in-public Beth has found her voice in the last couple of weeks and told a few of my sex-crushes in Second Life that I wanted them. One told me to "get in line"... hahahahaha. Anyone who knows me knows that patience isn't really a strong suit of mine so he dropped off the list. I'm very particular about who I fuck and it's a short list so... that one probably isn't going to happen.

I'm very fucking excited about the prospect of a couple others, though. Especially one who shall not be named at this time. I know, have known since I first saw him, that he was the kind of man who could bring me to my knees with his confidence and his cock and I can't wait until our calendars align and we can get filthy. 

So that's where we are now in the Story of Beth... one chapter ends and another begins, as it should. 

Saturday, May 5, 2018

Open For Business

No, no, no... I'm not going to start selling myself.

I'm just checking in and letting the Second Life world know that I'm still here, and still... open.

I've talked before about how we all go through, er, spurts of activity in Second Life. Sometimes the real world draw is more than the SL draw and we don't log in for a while. I've been having more and more of those moments, it seems.
And that's certainly not a bad thing. The real world should take precedence and it's great when it's because things are good. And things have been pretty good. I think, until today, it's been a week or so since I actually bothered to log on.

But I still need my fix.

My fix of sex. Hot, steamy, wicked, wet Second Life sex.
It's a thing we crave, isn't it? The real world is great, even real world sex is great... but there is just something about a good, nasty Second Life virtual mind-fuck that brings us back again and again, isn't there?

I love the intimacy of sex in SL. The way we can be our more reptilian selves without all the real world social stigma, etc. We can let go in a way we just can't in the real world.

We can be raw. And filthy.
Right now what I'm craving is multiple partners... not necessarily all at the same time, mind you.

And also not necessarily not at the same time, either.

What I'm lusting for right now is simple and decadent no-strings-attached fucking with a variety of beautiful souls... and, yeah, beautiful avatars, too. I'm visual. I want the most handsome men, the most gorgeous women, the most beautiful transgendered people.

I want to fuck all of you... and be fucked by all of you. I want to lie on a bed and be ravished by any and all. I want to be sticky with it... sweaty and covered and filled with cum.

I want to make you explode with me... just shatter... orgasm after orgasm until we can't breathe, can't stand... until our bodies are trembling and spent.
I want to share, and be shared. Pass me from man to man... woman to woman. Gender is far less important than desire and lust.

I want to trace every inch, every crevice of your body with my tongue. Use me, and I'll use you. Cover me in bruises and hand prints and bite marks. Leave me gasping for breath in a pool of wetness.
C'mon... let's be animals together. Raw and primal and visceral. Let's ignore all the social niceties and just do what we're meant to do... fuck.

Let's get inside each other's heads and find those triggers that set us off... that launch us into the stratosphere of ecstasy. I want you inside me... I need to be inside of you.

Claw marks... teeth marks... seed and juices... wet, throbbing... veins pulsing... fucking. Just fucking. Hard. Deep. So deep it hurts so fucking good it obliterates us.
What is holding you back? I'm waiting and wanting and so primed my skin is tingling... electric.

I know I'm not the only one who craves this... who aches for it deep within their soul. The kind of fucking we humans were made for.

Just say yes. Just. Say. Yes.
And yes, this is me reaching out to you... waiting for you. Get in touch with me. Let's make it happen. You can find all the ways to contact me up above on my contact tab. Skype. Email. Reach out to me in Second Life.

You want to fuck. I want to fuck. Let's make it happen. Once, at least. Let's just be dirty. Let's use each other for what we need. 

Let's fuck.

Sunday, April 22, 2018

Celebrating the Moments

Sorry it's been so long since my last post! Sometimes life just comes at you and Second Life takes a bit of a back seat, and that's really been the past couple of months for me.

Lots of changes! None bad... Max and I are still together and I know that just kills some of you who've been hoping he dumps me on my ass. And yes, it's true that he's leaving Second Life for the most part. Not my story to tell, but really great things are happening for him that necessitates all his focus be in the real world for at least the next year or so.

What's going to happen during that year? I have no idea, but I do know we're going to stay in contact through other means and if nothing else, we'll still be great friends with a lot of chemistry no matter what. I adore him, he adores me... we'll always be connected no matter where we are in the real world. I'm very fortunate that I've had three SL relationships with amazing men who've moved on from Second Life that I know keep me in their hearts, just as they are still and always in mine as well.
These days, my time in SL is spent decorating my new place and meeting new lovers, and there is NO bad in that. I have recently been turned on to the pleasures of transgender women... all the beauty of a woman, and all the things that make women extraordinary, plus a cock. Best of both worlds, perhaps? All I know is that I've recently made the acquaintance of one very special woman that makes me cream my panties whenever I see her, and she happens to have a cock.
I met Curty at Maui. She first approached me, but according to her, I was the one who turned our burgeoning friendship sexual... surprise, surprise. She's just gorgeous and funny, and sexy as fuck. Last night was the first time we really had a chance to spend a lot of time together, and OH MY GOD, I couldn't get enough of her.
She is soft and pretty and she smells nice.

And her cock is the perfect size.
We actually didn't fuck last night... and I didn't even orgasm. I wanted to make the evening all about her and her pleasure. I wanted her to know how gorgeous I think she is, inside and out. 

I think I did a pretty good job. 
I've always enjoyed the times when I get to just concentrate on making someone else feel desired and aroused, and I was able to do that last night with Curty. Though I didn't orgasm, I had SO. MUCH. FUN. just playing with her and kissing her all over and just, well... sucking cock until she exploded down my throat.
I'm looking forward to a lot more fun and adventures with her. Last night we barely scraped the surface of the erotic possibilities... and just a beautiful friendship with this very special lady. 
So that's basically what's been going on in the life of Beth Macbain. It's a busy, wonderful time for me in the real world, as well as just a fun, drama-free time in SL. I have my lovers, and I still have my Max. No complaints from me about anything... unless you want me to go on a rant about the pure evil that is Donald Trump, but nah... not today. 
Today I'm just going to focus on being happy and centered in both worlds. Stopping to smell the mesh flowers and real flowers as everything starts to bloom around me. 

Life is pretty good, y'all. 

Monday, March 5, 2018

Max Cunning

Sometimes a person enters your life, or your heart, or your body, and stays.
Max did that.

That's Max Cunning, for those of you keeping score at home.

First time we met, I despised him. The funny thing about that, though, is that I despised him but couldn't forget him.

The second time we met, nearly three months later, I couldn't resist him. And now four months after that, I still can't.

Never has there been a man who gets under my skin in the way Mr. Cunning does. He quite lives up to his name, that's for certain.

In the past four months, we have loved, and fought, and loved, and fought, and loved and fought again. That's how it is, or has been, between us. We make love passionately, and we fight passionately. I can't recall any other man who I've fought so viciously with, and then wanted to run right back to him. Hugh and I never fought, ever. He was so bloody easy-going that it sometimes infuriated me when I wanted him to disagree with me about something, but he just wouldn't. One of the billion things I loved about that fantastic man.
Max is quite different, and fantastic in a way that is unique to him. He will call me on my bullshit without hesitation. And, yeah, I do the same to him. And then we butt heads and say awful things to each other. We defriend, we block, we do all the breakup things.

And I know full well that seems to be very unhealthy. The thing is, it's infuriating and aggravating and... sort of fun, too. How do you have makeup sex if you never fight?

I really thought we were done this time, though, after my last blog post when I said I was getting off the roller coaster. I honestly thought it was the end, for a variety of reasons, including the fact that our anger exhausted us. We both got tired of it. It wasn't fun anymore, it was ugly... and we went our separate ways, still furious at each other.

But when you get a man like Max Cunning inside you, it's hard to shake free of him. And I utterly and completely failed at doing that.

The thing is, though... he failed at getting me out of his system, too. Put the two of us in the same room, and it's like an inescapable magnetic field envelops us, and brings us closer and closer together until we're locked to each other.

Something is different this time. We're both so damn sick of pretending that Second Life is just as fun when we're not together... It isn't. And it's not just sexual, either. Sex is a HUGE part of it, but it's because we know each other so well... and like each other in spite of our flaws. We laugh. When it's good with us, it's the very best.

I think we're both pretty committed this time to keeping it good between us. We're going to put each other first and make this time about us, and no one else.

Note... that's "first", not "only". The thing that first brought us together was our raw sexuality, and neither of us has any desire to quash that in the other. We'll play with others, together and separately, but at the end of the day, we're with each other. Our home is wherever the other is.
Both of us have left a trail of lovers behind us, each of them wonderful in their own ways, and each brought something incredible to our lives. The people and loves and situations in our pasts make us who we are.

Max has a few haters in Second Life, as do I. He can be an asshole... I can, too. We all can. But he's also infinitely kind, generous, hilarious and intelligent. And when I'm with him, I feel invincible. He knows what he wants... and I know what I want. In the past, those two things clashed, violently, and we couldn't make it work because neither of us would make a single concession.

We dug in our heels and there was a very thick line between us. He was firmly on his side, and I was firmly on mine. The things that utterly aggravated us about each other were also the same things that we loved and admired about each other.

We've come full circle now. The love of those traits is more important than the hate of them. The Max I'm with right now is a very different Max than the one I first met, the one I despised. There has always been a storm brewing inside him - the uncompromising Max, and the, er... teddy bear Max.

My Max.

The storm has calmed... the lightning and thunder have faded into the distance, replaced by a calm, steady rain. The kind that renews and invigorates and nurtures life.

Real life is almost always full of some sort of turmoil and stress. Second Life is supposed to be our escape from that, for all of us. It hasn't been that for quite a while. I think, in the natural cycle of Second Life, breaks are incredibly healthy and cathartic. I've recently taken one, as has Max... and, oddly enough, a few other people I know. Perhaps it's the time of year, or if it has just accumulated for everyone at once... the stress of the holidays, etc., and it comes time to take a breather.

We have to sometimes go away from Second Life to remember the fun of it and the reasons we're there in the first place, and we have to come back rested and ready to do the things we need to do to make it our unstressed, fun, happy escape.

With that comes clarity of who we are, who we want to be. For me, I just want to be myself. It always comes back to that for me. I just want to be Beth. I like Beth.
And I'm happy being Beth with Max - this incredible man who will never, ever agree with me 100% on everything ever, but at the same time loves me and supports me being me, even if some part of that is something he disagrees with.

Is he my master? Yes. My owner? Yes. Does he expect blind obedience from me?

No, he doesn't. He's not that kind of master. He's the kind that is perfectly confident in his absolute importance in my life to know he can sit back and let Beth be Beth, knowing full well that he is... the One. He knows I submit to no other man but him. And he knows that I don't submit because he demands it... I submit because he has earned it by being Max, and that it brings me a sort of ethereal joy to kneel for him. Just him. Only him. Always him.

I don't walk behind him... I walk at  his side, or even in front of him so he can watch my ass, and give it a few good smacks.

I call myself his slave... it's not a title he bestowed on me, it's something that I wanted, asked for. There's no goofy Master/slave contract. I do not, nor will I ever, call him Master, or Master Max. He does not call me slave. I'm Beth, he's Max. We are equal in all ways... including servitude. I love to serve him, and he loves letting me indulge myself by letting go, and serving him. He doesn't degrade me, he doesn't humiliate me. He's proud. I wear a collar, and he holds the leash - not to control me, but because he wants me close to him. It's a tangible connection between the two of us, and we use it when we're alone. And I fucking love it. Putting my collar back on, giving him ownership... feeling the clasp snap tightly as he locked it... it filled me with warmth and security and love.

And isn't that what all of us really want? That intimacy that you can really only feel with one other person? That connection that goes deeper than sex, but is infinitely enhanced by it?

Max and I have that. It's silly to fight it... it just is what it is. We know how it feels when it's really good between us... and we're both willing to do the things it takes to keep it that good.

So, yeah... no sad, bitter, angry, defeated blog post from me today. Just smiles. Big ones. Comfort and security and bliss. Utter absolute ecstasy.
I know that wherever he is as he's reading this, his cock is thick and hard as he reads these words... and knows how I crave him. How much joy it brings me to be his slave... how I long to kneel for him, to worship him, that cock, for as long as the real world allows us. He's feeling that throb in his sac as it grows heavy and full... for me. And he's smiling right now knowing that as I write, as I think about him, his cock, and his love and ownership of me, I'm growing wetter and wetter, leaving a damp spot on the chair where I sit, and that that wetness is only for him.

He's my Max. I'm his Beth. And Second Life is our world.

And I could not be happier.

Saturday, February 10, 2018

The D Word

I've been in Second Life for about 10 years now, on and off. Mostly on.

Something has changed. Or maybe I've changed. I don't know.
In the old days, Second Life wasn't a game to most people I encountered. It's never been a game for me. I consider Beth Macbain to be an extension of RL Beth, and not a character, or caricature of myself.

And people were good with that. Or, at least, the group of people I that were my friends were good with that. They approached SL the same way I did.

That's all changed in the past six months or so. And I'm not sure if it's me, or just the people I've found myself being friends with, or if it's all of SL.

I thought that the people in my SL world had the same approach I did, and I suppose that's my mistake for assuming. SL has always been a place where I could be a freer version of myself... I could be overtly sexual, I could speak my mind (especially on this blog) and the people I knew, my friends, loved me for being me.

The last few months, though... I don't know. I've allowed myself to play a role. And never once in that role have I felt comfortable or happy, but I did it anyway, because I have feelings for my friends and lovers and wanted to make them happy even though I wasn't getting what I needed out of my SL experiences anymore.

And that thing that I need? It's the ability to be myself... that more open version of myself that doesn't have to worry about how I act or what I say affecting my job or my family or the ability to keep a roof over my head. I've always considered Beth Macbain to be the me I would be if money were no object and I didn't have the constraints of having to be proper or restrained all the time.

Logging into SL used to be cathartic for me. It was where I could let my hair down and dance naked and love without limits.

But now I feel like in order to keep my friends and lovers, I have to be a combination of a proper woman who knows her place AND a sex machine that wants to do nothing more than fuck 24/7.

I don't feel like my voice is encouraged or appreciated anymore. And I don't feel supported in the slightest.

And I know I'm coming across as whiny right now.

But I'm hurt. I've always used this blog to speak my version of the truth. And though often I said things some people didn't like or spoke on topics that were controversial, I never, ever felt that I was unsupported for saying the things I did. I had friends and lovers who encouraged me to put my heart into this blog because they understand me and how I communicate. They understood that sometimes I had things I wanted to say but had trouble finding the right words for, or that I had a problem I was struggling with and used this blog to sort out the mess in my brain. That, for the most part, this blog is very stream of consciousness... I just start typing, edit it for spelling and grammar, add a few nudes, and hit "publish". My friends and lovers understood that either I had something I wanted to talk about, something I wanted them to read and think about. That I wanted to be able to use all my words to express my side of whatever it was that was roiling around in my mess of a brain.

Or they understood that I had to talk things out with myself... using this blog... and that when I hit the "publish" button, it meant I was putting something to bed. That I had gotten out whatever was troubling me, worked myself through it, and was ready to move on.

I've been told recently that maybe that's fine for me to do... but instead of hitting that "publish" button, I should just erase my thoughts and not put them out here for anyone else to read.

And maybe that's true. But one of the reasons I've also gone ahead and posted my verbal diarrhea is because it always seems to resonate with a few people. I get messages from people thanking me, or saying I was able to put into words exactly what they were thinking or feeling but couldn't express.

And I still get that from people. I'll be out somewhere and a stranger will approach me and say "Are you the Beth with that blog? Remember when you wrote about such-and-such? It felt so good to read that and realize I'm not the only one who thinks that..." or a million varieties of that.

But I don't get that from my friends and lovers anymore. I've been told that what I write here is nonsense. I've been told I lie. And I've been told "you shouldn't have said that."

And because these are the people I'm closest to inworld, it makes me start to believe that they're right.

Don't get me wrong... I've always known that what I post here is my version of whatever it is I'm babbling about. And I know I've certainly read situations wrong before. In the past I've had people that I've written about set me straight, not from a "Fuck you, you're wrong" perspective but from a "Wow, I didn't realize that's what you thought... let's talk about it and fix it" perspective.

I feel like all I've gotten recently is from the "fuck you, you're wrong" place.

And I'm torn... half of me absolutely thinks that they must be right. Maybe they are? I'm at a place right now where I'm just down on myself enough to think that they're absolutely correct and I'm just a terrible, awful, selfish bitch. That I don't deserve to have friends or lovers and that they'd all be better off without me.

And then the other half kicks in where I know I'm depressed and that when that happens, I get down on myself and project my insecurity onto how I think others must view me, because it's how I'm viewing myself. And it's a black hole I've been down before time and time again and know damn good and well that the blackness will subside and I'll get my strength back and realize that I'm not the literal worst person to ever exist.

And that's what I keep telling myself now, but I'm not really believing it. I would be lying if I said that in this past week, quite a few of my thoughts weren't about how nice it would be to just be able to... not exist... anymore.

No, I'm not suicidal. Put your phones down. I'm not thinking about killing myself... I'm thinking about how nice it would be if I didn't have to and it could all just be over, and that's two VERY different things. I have no intention of offing myself and this isn't some pity-party cry for help.

And it's also not SL related. It's real world things, but SL has always been my escape, but my escape is down just as... unhappy... as the real world is for me.

What am I getting at with this? Fuck if I know. Once again, I sat down here with the intention of talking about something entirely different than where this has gone.

Stream of consciousness, remember? This is nothing more than the fucked up dialogue going on in my head.

I've lost friends and lovers this week over a blog post that I wrote. I took it down (edit: an edited version is now back up). I barely even remember what it was about or what I was trying to say. I just know that whatever it was I was trying to express has caused the three people I was closest to in SL to turn their backs on me.

I don't separate RL Beth and SL Beth when it comes to who I am, inside, when I'm in SL. I have emotions, and sometimes they're raw. Often they're raw. I could log into SL and be the Barbie version of Beth... always happy, always smiling, always ready to fuck or whatever, but... I'm not an actress. I don't want to be someone else. I want to be me. In the real world, people get annoyed with each other, people stop speaking, and people also talk or fight it out, if they care enough about each other.

In SL, if you show emotions that aren't shiny and happy, you're causing drama.

Oh, yeah... that is where I meant to go at the beginning of this post. Drama.

Drama has become a word that is associated with any show of emotion in SL that isn't something light and fluffy... or erotic, in my case.

It used to be reserved for those who set out with the intent of making mischief or wreaking havoc. Now it's assigned to anyone who has an issue with anything. "Why are you causing drama?" "All you do is cause drama."

Drama has become the unofficial safe word of Second Life. If you want someone to stop what they're doing or saying, just throw up the big D word - DRAMA. It's a very convenient way to not have to deal with humans with human emotions and feelings.

And I think that's wrong. I think emotions and feelings are the best things about Second Life... the good, the bad, and the ugly. Because it's real. Humans DO feel these things... every single one of us, every single day.

Second Life is nothing but a game if you take the humanity out of it. Life isn't always sunshine, and puppies, and butterflies, and orgies.

Maybe I'm just hanging around the wrong places with the wrong people. Everyone should be entitled to use SL in the way they want to, in the way that works best for them. Maybe there are places and people in SL who still feel the same way I do... that's it's not just a game... and I just need to clear out some people on my friend's list and go looking for new ones.

Or maybe that would be fruitless... maybe SL has devolved into something that is nothing more than a game.

If that's the case, I don't want to be there, and that makes me sad. SL has brought me so many great things... the love of my life, freedom, self-discovery. It's brought me confidence and laughter and tears and joy. But maybe that Second Life is dead.

Or maybe I'm just in a black hole of depression.

Or maybe I really am just a shitty, worthless human shit stain.

Sunday, February 4, 2018

Leading with my Pussy

I want a man.

And, no, I don't want a man to fuck. Those are easy to come by. It's SL... pretty much every man wants to fuck.
I want a man that is mine. I want... er... a boyfriend. No, a partner, but not in the SL pay-L$25-to-put-your-name-in-a-box kind of way. I mean in the way of two people who put each other first, even though they aren't monogamous. I want a man who isn't afraid to admit he cares about me, deeply, and wants the world to know. I want him to romance me, seduce me, support me, love me, just as I will him. I want a man who doesn't want to change me, and understands that it takes compromise on both sides to make a relationship work.

I want a man who actually wants to have a relationship with me and will pursue that with me.

And, no, I don't think that's an unreasonable thing to want.

Recently I was lamenting that I seem to find myself involved with, and caring for, men who aren't interested in a relationship with me beyond sex.
The (now ex) friend that I was talking to helpfully pointed out to me that I "lead with my pussy". I think what he meant was that I'm so outwardly and openly sexual that I shouldn't be surprised when that's all men see me for.

And no, I'm really not surprised, at least in their initial reactions upon meeting me. I am, however, nearly always surprised when even after talking with me for a while that's still all they seem to think I'm good for.

I also understand the school of "well, if you don't want to be treated that way, don't act or dress that way."

Perhaps I should rephrase... I understand the exceedingly basic logic that follows that line of thought. I also disagree with it completely.

Because, really, fuck a bunch of that double-standard.
And her's why I think that's a double-standard. The places I hang out in Second Life are all pretty much adult in nature. You're as likely to see men walking around with their cocks out as you are women showing their tits.

Just as many men are "leading with their cocks" as there are women "leading with their pussies". And no one ever, ever says "hey, if you don't want to be treated like a piece of meat, don't dress or act like one."

See what I'm getting at here? It's the thing I keep fucking trying to beat people over the head with since day one of this blog - we still live in a society, even in SL where we're free from normal societal constraints, where it's okay for a man to be sexual, even promiscuous, but a sexual woman is a slut.

People, fuck... Jesus. Enough already.
Can we stop with it? Women are sexual creatures, too. And Second Life affords me the luxury of wearing my sexuality on my sleeve just as men do. And when I see a gorgeous man walking around SL with a gorgeous cock, my initial thought might be... well, probably will be... about fucking him but I don't think for one single second that that is all there is to him.

As a matter of fact, if a hot avatar is all he has going for him, I'm probably not even going to fuck him. Why would I? It would be incredibly boring and I can grab my dildo and take care of myself if that's all I want.

Are men really so shallow as to not contemplate the woman behind the avatar? That she's a real person and not just a pixel Barbie? That she isn't being run by a computer... she's a human?

No, I know they aren't. At least, most of them aren't. I know I have quite a few wonderful men who actually take the time to read this blog and know me. The best relationships I've had in SL have been men who read my blog and then approached me. Hugh, for example... the best example... I had no idea he was a fan of my blog until he IMed me out of the blue one day.
And the rest, as they say, is history. Pretty damn amazing history.

But I digress. A bit. Hugh knew I was extremely sexual... and he was just about as vanilla as vanilla gets, but he looked deeper. He always looked deeper, and he not only accepted me, he embraced me. All of me.

And, yes, even to this day, Hugh is still the gold standard and I'm afraid I still hold all men up to the high bar he set and few even come close. I also know it really isn't fair to all the men out there, but... well, that's just how it is. I had my unicorn.
Edit: Paragraph removed here due to hurt feelings.

And when a man gets me to let my walls down with him? I completely throw myself into it. I immerse myself in it. And, yeah, I know I'm a handful when that happens. Some guy gets inside, and I'm not just talking sex, and I want to dive in, all the way in. And it's intimidating, I know. It's a strong man who can ride out that brief period and still be standing when we come out the other side.

Because I do come out of that period of deep immersion... the newlywed phase, SL style.

Edit: More paragraphs removed here.
Edit: Even more paragraphs removed here.
So what was the point of this post? Ah, yes, leading with my pussy. I'm not going to stop being who I am. And if men are surprised to find that, yes, I love sex, and yes, I also love romance and that I want one special man in my life... no, not monogamy... but that one certain partner... and if these men can't handle me being multidimensional, that's really their loss, isn't it?

Because, yes, I'm a handful. Aren't we all? And maybe it's arrogant, but I feel confident in saying these two men, and many others that have passed through my life, are lucky as fuck to have me, wanting them, for more than just their cocks. And they're certainly free to pass me up. To pass me over. That's certainly their prerogative.

Just as it's my prerogative to put my walls up and not lower the drawbridge for them again.

Perhaps it's my loss when I do that... but you know what? They lose out on knowing me. I have issues and damages and baggage. Flaws and faults galore. I also have empathy and kindness. Intelligence and a rockin' sense of humor. I know how to fuck, and be fucked, and I know how to make love and rock a man's world. I'm every flavor of the fucking rainbow, and I know that my good far outweighs my bad.

Complicated, complex, convoluted and uncompromising. And quite possibly the very best thing to ever happen to a man.

Label me if you want. I won't. It would take the entire dictionary.

If a man can't hold on to me and see me through our immersion phase... again, it's my loss.

But more so than that.. it's their loss.

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