Wrote an essay on the beauty of real bodies over at bestsexbloggers.com.
Archive for the 'sexuality' Category
I think that I was born kinky, just like I think that I was born bisexual. I can’t remember a time in my life where I didn’t get aroused by kinky things (or have feelings of attraction and affection for boys and girls alike). I can remember as a child, being aroused by the fantasy of being kidnapped and tied up. I remember reading an article about the Patty Hearst kidnapping and being turned on by the image of her tied up in a closet and her captors pinching her nipples. I read and re-read that passage, secretly. (I was a precocious reader, I believe this article was in Reader’s Digest and I was still in elementary school - I think. I seem to remember reading it in the bedroom I had through elementary school.)
By the time I was in high school, I was collecting things like silk scarves that I could tie myself up with. I’d bind my wrists or ankles together and then masturbate (sometimes untying first as I’d need a spare hand or two to do so). I’d blindfold myself or gag myself. The sensation turned me on so much! The attempts at spanking myself fell far short of the fantasy, however. I had fantasies of being tied up, and fantasies of being spanked, fantasies of being raped, fantasies of being kidnapped. I knew that I didn’t truly want to be raped or kidnapped, but the idea of playacting that out with someone consensually got me really hot. Long before I ever had my first kiss or sexual experience with another, I was kinky. I’m not sure when I became aware that others felt like this too, or that it was perhaps a bit unusual to feel this way. I accepted it pretty much all along.
My first kinky experiences were with my very first boyfriend when I was 18. He and I explored a lot together sexually. I remember him domming me and my being so enthralled by it. (He was less so. He wanted to be dommed. I typically end up dating submissive men if they’re at all kinky.) We pretended that I was the maid to his wealthy man and he forcefully seduced me in my parent’s basement after everyone went to bed. He and I acted out a lot of fantasies, I don’t think I’ve dated anyone since who I explored so much with, but then he was my first. We liked doing things like having one of us pretend to be completely inexperienced (not that either of us was really experienced! lol) and the other would seduce the innocent one. We’d play with power differential situations, like one was the chauffeur and the other the employer when we’d be out fooling around in my car. We played around with bondage, me tied with my wrists over my head attached to the pipe coming out of the ceiling of the basement apartment he shared with his mom. Not so thrilling was the time we decided to include food and he put maple syrup on my torso. lol It was just a whole lotta stickiness. He had to untie me so I could shower off and we could stop laughing.
Right from the start of my sexual experiences I was eager to experiment with being kinky. And right from the start of my awareness of sexual feelings in myself I got hot over kinky things. It really seems to be how I’m wired.
I think sexual energy and creative energy are related. Since getting my mojo back I feel like blogging far more and I’ve started noticing the lack of creativity in many of my posts. They read like a play by play of what I got up to, but there’s no color, no feeling to it. Maybe I’ll change this as time goes on.
I find myself in an introspective mood tonight. I’m quick to blame it on being tired, I didn’t sleep well last night. But then I was sorta in this mood by the time I went to bed last night.
I find myself musing about feminism and bdsm – more specifically how it’s possible to be a feminist and a submissive at the same time. The two seem to be mutually exclusive. I’m quick to point out that outside the bedroom I’m not very submissive at all, quite stubborn and opinionated actually. So perhaps that’s where the division lies – I get hot and bothered by submitting sexually but in my daily life I’m not a submissive woman. Now of course, all this sounds like me grasping at straws to find the feminism in my behavior. “Well now, I might submit in the bedroom but otherwise I’m all feminist! No, really I am!!” I start arguing that being able to express your sexuality however it comes is a feminist act – not letting my sexual desires be dictated by conservative, heteronormative, vanilla society. If I get off on submitting then by all means I should get off that way. But I suppose sometimes I realize that you can’t say that my act of submitting is feminist in and of itself. But I am a feminist who submits sexually. I suppose that’s the distinction. I’d be curious to hear others’ views on this subject.
One way to look at it is that as a strong feminist the idea of submitting to a man’s (or a woman’s) whim is kinky by definition. I don’t see it as the normal order of affairs. I don’t see it has how I “should” be in my day-to-day life. But as a “liberated” woman I choose to play that way. And really it all comes down to choice.
I don’t really even know why I’m arguing this point, as I don’t see the two as having to be mutually exclusive. Just like I don’t see the nerdy, intellectual side of my personality to be at odds with the sexual, slutty part. V. has been asking me how the two sides of my personality get along, and I answer “quite well” as I don’t see them as distinct personalities, but parts of the whole of who I am. Why can’t you be nerdy and someone who works well with kids AND be someone who’s totally into her sexuality and free about it?
This entry is probably just one long, incomprehensible ramble, but it’s what’s going through my head. That and economic theory as MasterDoc had me reading up on why socialist economics don’t work. (He’s libertarian and quite keen to get this anarcho-socialistic person over to his way of thinking. And I have to admit that my political thinking has no basis in economic theory as I have little to no knowledge about it. I can see the flaws in socialism and anarchy, but then I’m cynical enough to think that every political system has glaring flaws. Still, I really enjoy learning about economics from him as I’d rather be knowledgeable in my political views than completely ignorant. I guess it’s time I learned about economics even though the idea of it bores me to tears. Anyway, the nerdy side of my personality really appreciates being with a man who stimulates me intellectually and who seems to respect my intelligence. All my favorite men get me thinking. Heck, all my favorite people get me thinking, one of the things I like about V. so much is that she’s very intelligent.)
I’m going through one of those periods in my life where my sex life has taken over. Time spent at work or elsewhere is just time killed until the next time I can get up to something naughty. Each work day is just gotten through so I can get to the weekend or the next play time. Now this doesn’t mean I have sex every day - I don’t. (Surprised?) But that sex is the foremost thought in my brain. I’m kinda frustrated at work right now so that probably plays into this. The sex is infinitely more fun than the work day.
Last night I was thinking about the fact that while this is a blog of my sex life, I don’t always write about sex with Davey. I’ve noticed this before and I think it’s probably down to a couple of reasons. First, naughty, out-of -the-mainstream sex makes for more interesting blog material than vanilla sex with someone you love and are with regularly. (I note the times it’s particularly hot or passionate, but as is the tendency with established relationships, it’s frequently routine.) And second, sometimes I like keeping sex with Davey between us. Despite my exhibitionistic tendencies, I suppose there’s some stuff I like to keep private. Not much, but some. I doubt that my getting all mushy about Davey would make for stimulating reading anyway. I’m not all about getting laid. Sometimes sex is about passion and getting off, but sometimes it’s about being intimate with someone you love. Yes, the slut has a heart.
I’ve got a lot of blog ideas floating around my head at the moment, just things that I’m thinking about. I’ve thought about the theory that women who are promiscuous are that way because of low self-esteem. I don’t think that’s true in my case. I seem to have more sex and more adventurous sex when I’m feeling confident. If I’m feeling depressed or insecure I shy away from sex. This theory sounds too much like an excuse to put down sexual women to me. “Oh, if she likes a lot of sex she must have issues, because, well women aren’t highly sexual.” What a crock of bull.
One theory I might have to give some thought to, however, is that sex is my drug of choice. In order to feel super-great and get a rush some people take drugs, some drink, some jump out of airplanes. Me? I have sex and act in an exhibitionistic way. I don’t have sex to get people to like me, I have sex because it feels good physically and mentally. I don’t do it to bolster my self esteem although being desired by a lot of people certainly doesn’t hurt my self-esteem. The point of it for me is that it feels good and those good feelings are enough of a reward for me to keep doing it. So long as I have safer sex and don’t put myself into dangerous situations it seems to me a far healthier option than doing drugs. No artificial chemicals being put into my body.
Anyway, that’s what’s floating around my head today. N. called me last night - just about when I was getting ready for bed. It’s funny how he makes time to talk to me when I don’t talk to him. I mean, he rarely calls me but I haven’t emailed him in a week and so he calls. It’s also interesting to note that one of his long-distance relationships has fizzled out and the woman he swings with is going away for two weeks, so no wonder he’s taking time to talk to me. He’d be woman-less without me for a couple of weeks. 
It might not be the reason he called, but it sure feels like it after he avoided time with me so much over the past couple of months. I think he really means to be a decent guy, but I’ve grown increasingly cynical about him. I don’t doubt that he enjoys my company (and not just the sex) but he seems to be in touch with me only when it’s convenient for him. Anyway we chatted for a few minutes about life in general and I did my best not to fall asleep as I was so tired after my busy morning and afternoon/evening at work. There was no mention of getting together over the weekend, which is just as well as Friday I have a date with that woman I was talking to (whoo hoo! and she seems eager to play) and Saturday Davey and I are hoping to spend time with two friends we haven’t hung out with in months.
I’m really tired. But it’s a good tired. I’m tired because I had sex with both Davey and N. today. My afternoon was basically spent having sex and then having sex again. I feel like my old self in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. I feel like I could have sex over and over forever if only my body wouldn’t get so damn tired. I feel like my (slutty) self.
I didn’t have sex with them at the same time, I had a date with N. and went to his place…. we alternated hanging out on the porch chatting with going to the bedroom and fucking. There wasn’t any air conditioning but thankfully today wasn’t quite as hot as they had predicted. Still, the sex was sweaty. And for some reason getting all sweaty during sex isn’t nearly as distasteful as getting sweaty during exercise, or walking around on a hot day. It’s actually kinda sexy.
For a 55-year-old man he has quite the stamina. He kept going (during the second round) long past when men half his age would keep going. I had a lot of orgasms. *grin* I’m so glad I finally met him and didn’t let his age get in the way. (I kept him at arm’s length for a year.) We have a lot of fun in bed together.
After the second round we went to shower (just like after the first round) and as I moved past him to get to the water in the shower he slid one hand between my ass cheeks and started fingering my asshole and then reached around with the other hand and stroked my clit and then fingered me. Wowza. I had quite an orgasm really quickly, trying to clutch the shower wall and hold myself up.
I left his place feeling really worn out, my legs were tired from being spread for so long. But even so, I still felt kinda horny. Ah yes, I was feeling like my old self.
I was hungry when I got home, so Davey and I had dinner and then relaxed in the living room. I kept feeling persistently horny, and hey, I like to make sure that Davey is taken care of - an important part of being poly is making sure things are okay with your primary relationship. Despite feeling so tired I sent Davey sexy IMs from the other end of the couch. Soon, we were in the bedroom and I was orgasming again. And again. And we had sex and I had some more orgasms. I’m a very satisfied and happy girl. And I’m feeling so comfortable in my sexuality again - it’s such a liberating feeling. I’m ready to take on the world sexually. Hee hee. I see my couple, D. & L., on Friday and I asked N. if he’d help me out with my double penetration fantasy sometime and he said yes. (There’s few things that I really want to try that I haven’t tried, double penetration is one of them. I’ve had a toy and a penis but not two penises. Obviously Davey is all to happy to help me with this fantasy.)
(The title of this post came from a conversation with N. today where he told me about how he told another lover of his that she should get a vanity plate with Tulsa on it, so that when people saw it in their rearview mirrors it would read …… Perfect for me as well! But I’m not into vanity plates.)
I recently heard from D. and L., the couple I’ve seen a bunch of times for bdsm play. At first I was hesitant to get together with them. After all I was frequently left feeling like the human sex toy, to be tossed back into the toybox after play. I wasn’t willing to deal with that again. But instead of making excuses I decided to be forthright. And what I got back was a very thoughtful email apologizing for any awkwardness and professing feelings of genuine friendship. Hmmm. So yet again being honest has yielded change. I feel much better about them and I’m going to play with them sometime this month. I have had very little kink in my life for nearly two years now. Davey is very vanilla, and hey, there’s nothing wrong with that it just means he can’t be he one to fulfill my dirty, kinky fantasies of being dominated. And so perhaps I will be able to get that from time to time with D. & L. After all, I have had some wonderful fun with them in the past. We’ll see how things go.
The past two days I’ve mostly felt sane although tonight I’m feeling a bit depressed and agitated. I see my psychiatrist early tomorrow morning. While feeling normal for the past day, I’ve wondered if maybe I had made a big deal out of nothing. But in fact I hadn’t made a big deal out of it, I just mentioned this insanity to my therapist and she got very worried. It’s in my nature to feel bad about people worrying about me. After all, I’m not used to my own mother worrying much about me, so I’m used to just flying below the radar and suffering alone. I did tell Davey about all this the other night and he’s been expressing concern. And while it’s comforting to know that someone cares (and my therapist and shrink both called when it seemed like I hadn’t gotten back to the shrink, but in fact I had spoken to his receptionist about making an appointment) I hate people worrying about me. I think it might stem from some feeling of not being worth worrying about. Or some self-conscious response to feeling like a bug under a microscope. Yeah I think self-consciousness is the reason. I expect that people are now watching me, waiting for signs of craziness. And I’m afraid I might show them. I guess that deep down I don’t hate people worrying about me, I just hate the feeling of self-consciousness that goes along with it.
I’m tired of feeling like a broken human being. I’ve felt like this for so long. And just when I feel like I’ve gained some normalcy the depression comes back and I’m back where I started.
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I’ve been contemplating why I slept with the Irishman this week. After all, I don’t feel like I’m getting much out of it since all he ever talks about is sex and that’s clearly all he’s after. But I realized that I get a sense of power over having a man want me as much as he wanted me on Monday. There’s some level of control being this object of desire and this sense of worth that comes from it. It’s fucked up for sure, but I felt powerful after fucking him. I felt like his orgasm was in my hands, had I not decided to play along he would have gone unsatisfied. And I like that feeling of power.
I’d much rather be friends with someone I fuck, but for now I think I’m going this route with the Irishman because it feels good to be sexual for a change and to make a decision about my sexuality (when it feels like the assault made my decisions for me for the past two years). I don’t feel entirely good about it, but I suppose I am getting something out of it - a sense of power, however fleeting.
In stark contrast to the post before this, I had a good time today with the Irishman. I was very nervous as I feel like I still don’t know him as well as I’d like to, but typical me I gave in to my sexual urges anyway. The situation with him is clearly just sexual but I don’t know that I mind that. I wish he was in better shape than he is but he’s damn good with his fingers. He’s very passionate and I like that. While he wasn’t the best I’ve had, he was enjoyable. I’m happy to be slutting it up again. *grin* (I also got down with Davey this weekend a couple of hot, hot times. And what’s good is that I feel like my old, wanton self - I keep gradually getting more and more back to feeling like ‘me’ again.)
I did have a “mortifying moment” today though. I had an upset stomach this morning (nerves) and while I thought I took care of everything I discovered ’skid marks’ on the bedsheets after he fingered me. Yikes. EMBARASSING! Horrifying. I didn’t want to point out that I squirted because the skid marks were right there along with the puddle. Gross! I felt freaked out but if he noticed (I’ll bet he did) he didn’t say. Argh! How awful for the first time you’re with someone to be a time when something gross and embarassing happens. And then a little later, because my muscles bear down when I come, I think a wee bit was er, coming out my butt. Eww! He stopped fingering me kinda abruptly and things seemed a little out of sorts down there when I used the bathroom shortly after. I just wanted to fall through the floor! Still, he didn’t say anything and didn’t seem weirded out by me, so either it wasn’t as monumental as I think it was or even if it was he wasn’t freaked out by it. *sigh* This is real life folks. It’s not as smooth and mess-free as the porn flicks would have you think. Gah! I’m still horrified by this. So this afternoon was a strange combination of hot and horrifying. lol I’d prefer if it was just hot.
YES! I just experienced something that I’ve never experienced before, and that’s quite a feat when it comes to me and sex. But…. with Davey working late this week I have a lot of time on my hands and well, we all know that idle hands do the devil’s work (yes!). I’ve been feeling a bit horny the past couple of days and I decided to make time this evening to do something about it. So I lay on the bed, equipped with lube, my beloved bullet vibe and one of my silicone dildoes. (I used the one I don’t usually use, for a change. The red sparkly one.) Soon I was coming and coming and then something amazing happened - I squirted. During masturbation. That had NEVER happened before. I could feel it happening as I came and I just knew there’d be a big wet spot on the bed underneath me. But I so overjoyed to be experiencing this during solo play that I didn’t care. The orgasms were magnificent, and I felt so in control and good and sexual. Luckily, I masturbated on Davey’s side of the bed and he’s sleeping in the spare room while he works long hours (extra snoring). So I will be able to cozy up on my side of the bed tonight while the wet spot dries out on the other side.
Yeah, the sheets need a washing. I’ll get to that. Thanks to flooding we can’t use the washer/drier in my building (and I ended up with a very wet load of laundry when I tried to use it and the landlord told me that no, I couldn’t. Yeah it wasn’t pretty. My hands are stronger than a couple of days ago thanks to wringing. And I took it in for a service wash (like on EastEnders!) and it weighed a ton from dampness despite drying overnight, so it cost mucho buckos. Gah. At least that’s the worst we’ve experienced from this flood. It could have been so much worse.)
But I have to say that my own personal flood tonight was much more fun than the storm on Sunday. *big grin* Whoo hoo! I feel good.
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