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Strawberries and Roses
Another memory, because for some reason the words on today aren’t flowing. So, past-times it is.
They had a cigarette, and I remember staring. Watching the cherry light up as it went to their lips, remembering the taste of strawberries. I had quit, but one couldn’t hurt, right? They offered me the cigarette and I took it. Cloves, can’t buy them anymore. Not in the USA at least. But cloves linger on your lips, like strawberries.
It was surprisingly cold that night. We huddled together for warmth. I don’t remember why we were outside anymore. Waiting to get a ride, maybe it was for the cigarette. They smoked when they wanted, so we were outside, away from eyes. They handed me a cigarette, and I took it, breathing in the deadly smoke, and watching the swirls spiral from the end of the cigarette itself, I felt at peace. I know why they offered, why they handed it to me. It’s hell to kiss a smoker if you aren’t one. They knew it too.
I remember sitting there on the stone, the smoke gone but strawberries lingering on my lips, and one of us made a move. I saw it coming, huddling for warmth, I remember thinking we’d kiss that night on sitting on that cold stone. Which one of us did it? I dont’ know. I do remember their lips on mine, the strawberry taste fading fast from both of us. We sat there, kissing, unsure of where was okay to touch. My binder, their binder… we didn’t know what the rules were, so we just sat on the cold stone and kissed until the strawberries were forgotten.
If one was to count each time I’ve quit smoking, there is a minimum of four times. And now, I call myself quit, but I do allow myself two cigarettes a year. I invented that rule eventually. Each year, two cigarettes. So far, it has come down to having one due to excess stress, like completely a true hell week for a theater production or getting dumped, and one for rather unfathomable reasons. Each year since that rule was made, one for stress, one for ‘other’ reasons. I haven’t had one yet this year. If I make it through February without having one of those two, it’ll be a new accomplishment.
As much as I miss the taste of strawberries on my lips, all the memories of them are really bittersweet. I’m rather glad that even if I do smoke, that it wouldn’t be cloves again. And besides, rose hookah does taste a whole lot better than any kind of cigarette ever did.
Under the Jungle Gym
For some reason I’m not succeeding in writing about current things in my life, little though there may be, so I shall write a memory. Sure, it may be filled in here or there, but I never claimed to have a good memory. But it is rather ingrained in my mind…
It was one of those nights where it was cold-though-not-exactly-winter. Maybe it was a February thaw, maybe it was a cold night in march. We walked, hand in hand, except when our hands broke for a grope, a kiss, a shove, a scratch… anything really. Our hands were all over each other. We walked to the playground, just to be outside, without parents. To not fuck in the car, again. We walked to the plastic playground, lit by the moon and a yellow street lamp casting shadows of trees.
Under the jungle gym, she shoved me up against the plastic tic-tac-toe, and quickly reached under my shirt. She kissed me, hard, as she twisted my nipple, hard. She didn’t do things by halves. She leaned in again, this time going for my neck, biting down and adding to my bruises there. My hands found their way under her jacket and shirt, my nails leaving red trails across her back.
But mostly I remember the moon, and her hand unzipping my jeans and without pulling them down, finding their way under my underwear and sliding inside me. I mostly remember the moon, and the feel as her other hand slid around my neck and began to squeeze.
I stopped breathing. I stopped trying to breathe. I could have still, I think, but I didn’t even try to find out.
She let go for a moment, and I took a few breaths, nodding to her to put her hand back. She squeezed harder that second time, and longer. I closed my eyes, closed myself off from the world. No sight, no breath, and everything began to fade to white as I got off.
I don’t remember the feel of her fingers inside me that night. I don’t remember how she sucked and bit my neck, or how she twisted my nipple, just that she did. I remember how her hand felt, that first time someone took my breath out of the equation.
The next day at school, no one noticed the bruises from her hand mixed in among the hickies. And that was the way I wanted it.
Roles and Growth
In high school, I was damn sure I was submissive. I remember wandering around with a friend, just hanging out, talking about how she actually had confidence, but failed at seeming confident, whereas I was good at seeming confident without actually having any. I didn’t want to have to be confident, I wanted to submit.
In college, I realized I was a switch. Pretty early on in fact, because by the end of my freshman year I was identifying as a switch, though usually with bottom tendencies. Somewhere along the way I started getting more comfortable being dominant, being toppy.
There are times when I think maybe I’m just one or the other. I’m pretty sure life enjoys reminding me exactly why that is completely false just at those moments. Any time I’m starting to wonder if I’m just one or the other, something happens. For instance, cuddling on a couch with a very scary top, who pulls my hair, controlling my head, and for those moments at last I’m finally out of my head. The relief washes over me of not deciding, not being responsible, not being careful, of not having to pay that kind of attention. Instead, I get to push through pain, through challenge, and show my strength in giving up that control… and it is a relief to let go and submit. Because I’m not any one thing and I need breaks from whichever roles I chose to take on.
But until more recently I really hadn’t much bottomed (with regards to pain) in a long while. T has dramatically altered not just how I process pain, but the physical sensations. Pain feels different. It is really hard to describe. I’m more jumpy, though less sensitive technically. I don’t know my physical limits as well, I want to push those boundaries more and more because I like not liking the sensations. The first real time I pushed past the pain I liked into the pain I seemed to not like in a consensual, trusting manner got me incredibly turned on… and left me with wonderful bite marks all across my skin for quite some time. In a way, I really hated those bites. Because, dammit, they hurt. I told her more, not to inflict harm but to feel that hurt. I was nowhere near harm, and the pain wasn’t bad for me, it got me wetter than I had been in a long time. But that was before T. So, now bites send me writhing, whining, and twitching far more than before. I don’t know how to process this new sensation, but damn am I enjoying learning.
Also, stingy pain got a lot different, and a lot more intense.
Yet, even while I’m relearning my reactions to pain, even while part of me is seeking out chances to bottom, I pull out The New Topping Book to read. I seek out new opportunities to top, to dom, to control. After years of relationships trying to throw off the politics of owning another person, I’ve come to find how much I want someone else to be “mine” (which, me being me, has absolutely nothing to do with monogamy. Just because something would be “mine” does not mean exclusive rights…) Unless I actually feel my more submissive side reacting to someone, another person’s attempts to dominate me lead to entertaining times of wrestling and me biting them a lot. Probably biting them very hard. A certain puppy learned this the hard way. Or maybe I should say the fun way.
Hmmm… One of these days I should get a picture of someone’s bruises from my bite. They can be really pretty.
Post Movie Late Night Musings
Tomorrow, I get to act like a fool (in a good way,) spend time with good friends, be with S, and probably even dance. Which might have something to do with the fool part. Tonight, I spent time with friends and had a blast at a movie. Today, I had a good day with my mom. Yesterday, I got a bit more of my life in order. Things fall into place.
Maybe, maybe not. The puzzle pieces are going together and everyone keeps asking me what the picture is. Y’know what? I don’t know yet either. (/bad metaphor.)
I have never wanted my life to be an 80s movie. At times, I have wanted moments from certain films, but they were always 90s movies. Yeah, I’m a 90s kind of person, what can I say. But, somehow along the way my romantic, movie-esque side got squashed. In high school I aptly refered to myself as, “A romantic who’s hopeless, and probably a hopeless romantic.” Also, that line turned out to be great for online profiles at the time. Regardless, I gave flowers to the girls I dated, in fact I gave them their favorite types. I learned how to say ‘I love you’ in a ridiculous number of languages, as well as the different gendered ways to say it in each depending on how I felt any given day. Yeah, over-the-top high school romance. I did it. Badly, often. Cliche at times. But highly entertaining, and if nothing else, it was a lot of life crammed into some really hellish years.
Romanticism died. I used to have songs for everyone I dated, but that hasn’t happened recently. My last big romantic moment I threw away on a girl who it turned out wasn’t worth it, though I can’t actually regret the choices I made. Maybe I’m just jaded, and interested more in the slap, the bite, the dance against the wall in a room so crowded I’m grinding as much with the person behind me as S in front of me. Sure, it can be romanticized, but somewhere along the way, I buried that piece again.
Because part of me will always have a soft spot for candle lit nights, even though I want that hot wax dripped across bodies throughout it as well.
Dating requires a certain amount of self-assertion, of putting oneself out there enough to get rejected. Except the rejection I can handle, it is the self-advertising bit I’m not so great at. I’ve always let others come to me, rarely gone after anyone. I can’t advertise myself though. Self promotion is why I fail at cover letters, and only after a good amount of training could manage interviews. I don’t do it well, much like I don’t take compliments particularly well. I blush, and get shy and embarrassed because I have absolutely no idea how to react. Trying to compliment myself? Yeah. Not happening.
Somehow all of this relates in my head, besides just being under the category of ‘dating/hook ups/relationships/etc.’ My mind connects my lack of romance to my lack of self promotion… that there is a causation somewhere in there that is significant.
Just haven’t found that significance yet.
My First Floating World
Sorry for the lack of updates, been recovering/getting life in order so that I don’t accidentally end up having such large gaps in entries. But, the other weekend I attended the Floating World 2010, and had a blast. So here is my entry on it!
I don’t quite know when I started thinking about myself as a kinkster, as someone in the BDSM scene. I mean yeah, the first physical relationship I had included the obvious BDSM characteristics like a safeword, and there was definitely kinky play, like knives, choking/breath play, hitting, scratching, biting, and intentionally drawing blood. But as of FW, I had only been “in” the more public BDSM scene, the community, for like six months. I had been to one major event (the winter Fetish Flea) one play party (in NYC) and sure I talked about things at KinkForAlls, and yeah I did go to the summer Flea, I still feel very like a new comer.I know the words, the gestures, anything I could have read about the community… but being a part of that community is a new thing. So, I pushed myself. I felt uncomfortable, and pushed myself. And I’m really glad I went.
There were massive number of classes, some of which I attended, many of which I did not simply because it was not possible. Classes began at 9:30am and went until 12:30am with breaks for lunch and dinner… but still, that is a ton of classes. Needless to say, I want to many of them.
Classes
The first class I made it to was run be the fabulous Lee Harrington, and was called “Inner Monster: Tops.” Basically, it was a chance to sit down in a room full of tops/doms/dommes/masters/etc. (and switches speaking from that perspective) and talk about all the things that we in the BDSM and kink community don’t talk about. We talked about the taboos of our little world, from not giving aftercare to nonconsensual situations. In many ways, it dramatically altered how I looked at the rest of my time at FW. I began thinking a lot more about what was being said and what was not, looking at how certain assumptions about “how things should work” existed in our quaint little isolated culture. It also began my semi-stalking of Lee Harrington for the con.
The next class I went to was by Cleo Dubois, which I went to because it seemed like it would help me with topping/doming. Instead it was a kind of bleh presentation with a power point… and then a fairly cool scene. The things I got out of it were eye contact can be a great tool, and making people reenter a space if you don’t think they are in the right mindset can also help a lot. Oh yeah, and zippers rock.
Then, after dinner and meet & greets, I went to Dov’s class on mindfucks. It was fun, though I was a bit sad that S went to that class with me simply because the whole point was mindfucks made easy… which really aren’t as easy when the person I’d be mindfucking is sitting next to me. After that, we went to the super cool class on FtM CBT. Yes, there was a class on cock and ball torture for people like me. And it was awesome. It was run by Lee Harrington and Bo Blaze, and they talked about everything from how for some people this could mean putting needles through their packer, while for some it could mean putting needles through their actual bits. S got a lot of evil ideas from this class. Apparently she got a whole list of ideas, though I have yet to see/hear/feel them. We’ll probably go over it soon.
The next day I woke up early, just to go to the “Making Leather” class. It was good. Little to say about it other than that it was exactly what I expected and wanted- an intro class on making stuff out of leather and talking a bit about the tools and leather and places to get both without paying too much money. That day also had me attending a class by Barbara Carrellas on breathing. Yes, breathing. It was a cool class, but I think to really get a lot out of it I’d need to spend a lot more time working with her on my breathing. Though I did learn that orgasms from breathing alone are actually possible, as in, Barbara has sat in an MRI machine which showed her brain registering an orgasm without stimulation besides breath. That, I thought, was awesome.
Later, I went to a fabulous class run by Mollena, who wore her “International Ms. Leather 2010″ and began the class by walking around and personally introducing herself/saying hello and shaking the hand of everyone in the room. That alone kicked ass. And then she started talking, and engaging with the ‘audience.’ It was about boundaries, about what those words mean, how people mean different things by words like “limit” or especially “hard limit.” She was fabulous. People were bringing up cool things. And again, Mollena was awesome, had great stories, and told them hilariously. Needless to say, after such a great presentation, I stayed in the room, and enjoyed another Lee Harrington class (he had been in Mo’s class as well… oops?) about energy exchange and how we focus so much on safe sex, but not on safer magickal sex. It was awesome, and I got up the nerve to actually ask a question relevent to my life. Someone had asked about how to stop attracting toxic people, and my question was what about being attracted to toxic people? Lee’s response boiled down to that’s a class (at least) by itself, here are some things to go read.
That night I played with puppies. Go read about it below.
The next day I slept in because I was a very tired xMech… and then went to a fabulous class called “Creative Disobedience: the Art of Being A Wiseass.” I liked Zac’s comment to me about this, “You needed this class why exactly?” It was so much fun, and the presenter, Laura Antoniou, was truly entertaining. There were delightful stories, there was frank honesty, and there was fabulous movie references. “I’m shocked, shocked to find cocksucking going on in here.” (props to whoever knows that movie.) Kept making me think about how often I used to quote movies in a wiseass manner, and how I really should start doing so again. Then I went to another fun workshop, this time by Scot, on Liquid Latex. It was a lot of fun. Scot is a lot of fun. And, as it turns out, is friends with my friends. But we got to watch a hot girl get covered in liquid latex, and then as it was peeled/torn off. It was fun. By that night, I was again exhausted. So, I went to low key classes, like Wendy Blackheart’s Buttsex, which I went to because Wendy is awesome, and buttsex is always fun, and I didn’t need to pay attention to the basics, just keep an ear open for things I didn’t already know. Same goes for the final class I attended, which was Dov’s class on knives. He had pretty knives. Also, I want a straight razor. Maybe I’ll even start shaving with it.
So that was the classes I went to. The abbreviated edition. There will be entries to come inspired by thoughts from those classes. If you have any probing questions, feel free to comment/email and ask :D.
Dungeon
I was not big on the dungeon. Part of this was simply that I am uncomfortable with my own body and having my shirt and binder off in such a public space, which severely limits the ability for S to top me. The bigger issue for me was the lights and sound. The lights were really contrasty between the darkened ceiling, the bright lights, and the reflective tendencies of the floor. Also, lots of loud music. There wasn’t a quiet corner, or at least, quiet enough for my overly sensitive head. Needless to say, after the first night, I took some Excedrin from Tylerpup, and had a much better time.
However, there was a lot of really cool stuff in the dungeon. There was suspension frames, there was essentially a jungle gym looking thing, there was a play area, there was a pony area, there was a medical area, st. andrews crosses scattered about, and at one point, a ten person suspension on Zac’s 2 ton frame. That was an impressive moment. Also, I had fun walking around and seeing the little things I had done/the things I had helped build. Even though I didn’t play particularly much in the dungeon, there was an energy to the room, a feeling just from walking around, and it made me happy to be there, surrounded by fellow kinksters, perverts, and deviants.
That first night though, found me and S in the back area, where it was a bit darker, cuddling, and talking a bit. She’d have to jog my memory for me to know what we were talking about (as my memory is like swiss cheese) but I remember the mood I was in then. It was pensive, vaguely depressive, dark, relaxed, tired, pained, and analytical. Not really the best mood for public play, though common enough for my head.
The second night, however, was a blast. I had leashed S, and we went off to wander the dungeon, perhaps for inspiration. We ended up near where friends were their puppy selves, romping around on a mat, watched over by two owners. S went into kitty mode (if she wasn’t already) when it was decided we’d stay and play. After a bit, I asked her if she wanted Creature to come out, and she replied with a strong affirmative. So, I took off my shirt, and thought a moment, and started romping with puppies as Creature, in my binder. We all got a lot of “Aws” and a lot of cute responses. It was a lot of fun to play with the puppies and the kitty. There was lots of biting, some scratching. And a ton of scritches. So many scritches. And I was a happy Creature who kept getting scritches, and had adorable (and hot) puppies and a kitty to play with. And they all seemed to like my creature noises.
After that, thought it wasn’t in the dungeon, we briefly went to the pool party. As I hate being submerged in water, i just sat with my feet in the water. Lots of nudity. It was fun, and then bed.
Oh, I also got hypnotized at one point.
People
I met a lot of fabulous people. Made friends, got closer to people I had met before, things like that. Amusing moments included when a friend apparently realized/found out that I’m trans, on Saturday. So the second day of the conference, and we had hung out over the summer, and every mutual friend we have knows… somehow he didn’t actually know. Apparently he guessed, but only because I look so young for my age (I’m lucky if people think I’m 18 or 19… which is a problem when I’m buying alcohol.)
When I first checked in, we were all told to sign the release with our vanilla name, our “real” name, our legal name. For some in the BDSM scene, their real name is their scene name not their legal name. And for those like me? I mean, my “real name” is one thing, which is different from my “legal” name (as I have not yet gotten a legal name change), which is completely different from my scene and blog name (xMech.) They did not do well at specifying what name initially. Then when I got up to deal with registration, the person behind the table checking me in starting talking at me about how I could get my gender marker changed on my passport, as some family member of theirs did. I walked away thinking, “Well, you’re trying at least? But really, wtf- my legal gender marker is none of your damn business.” Also, there are complications, and yes, I did know they had recently made it easier to change on passports. Wasn’t the best impression I got at FW. On the upside, I definitely had many better.
I got lots of scritches, and some bites. I got to give quite a few bites as well.
At one point, over some meal or other, I was sitting down with some of my more newly made friends and a person I didn’t really know, and the topic ended up on anti-war activism. It was interesting, because I’m pretty sure I’d actually met the person I didn’t know before, but wasn’t up for the whole “So I was in DC at this time, at this event, where I think we met through this organization” and instead went with “So you know my friend so-and-so?” Which she did. Trust me to go to a kink convention and end up in a really engaging discussion about anti-war and peace activism and the military industrial complex. Also, we talked about food. My kind of conversation. My kind of people.
Sadly, one of the people I was sharing a hotel with got sick right before FW. Turns out, it was whooping-cough. So we were down a person in the hotel room, but even worse, Zac lost his vender’s assistant. I stepped in at one point, and held down the fort with Tylerpup to give him a break. Met some fun new people that way, also got to play around a bit with some of his stuff, which is always fun.
~~
Lots of fun things happened. I’m really glad I went. Even though there were moments, like of me being exhausted, or feeling uncomfortable, where I wasn’t having a blast, I learned a lot, and pushed on my boundaries. I got a sense of where many more of my boundaries were. So that is my long overdue write up on floating world! I should be back on track to writing a lot more frequently again. Hopefully I won’t have another giant down month like August was anytime soon!
Getting “Sir”ed
Sophomore year of high school I remember winter break in texas. I hated and loved my haircut. It was short, too short in fact. Though years later I would ask for it shorter than it was, it just looked bad. Thus, the hate. But, it helped me pass, helped my very closeted 16 year old self pass around my family, non of whom knew about me being trans. Actually, some of them didn’t even know I was queer.
I kept getting called “Sir.” I wore a tight black tee-shirt (which actually still fit me until I started transition) and guy’s jeans, had short hair and wore my wonderful new cowboy hat. I kept getting called “Sir” and was very confused, rather pleased, and incredibly frustrated with my family. Confused because said tight black tee-shirt did absolutely nothing to hide my chest, which though not huge was blatantly there. Pleased, because it meant that hey, maybe I could do that whole transition thing I’d been quietly dreaming about. And incredibly frustrated with my family for assuming it was an insult, for not understanding that I might prefer being called sir, for correcting everyone around me, but mostly for telling me how insulting it was that people kept doing this, and putting all of their insecurities about it onto me.
That more than anything began my relationship with the word.
Airports are many of my most strong memories of the word. Cashiers as I grab terrible airport food saying “Have a good day, sir.” Or the airline employees checking my boarding pass as I head down the jetway to the plane saying “Have a nice flight, sir,” then glancing at my ticket, seeing my legal name and shouting after me “Sorry, ma’am!”
Oddly, that last one never endeared me to that airline.
I felt mostly apathetic about the word. Despite my interest in power play and other such delightful BDSM activities, I never really connected it to that. To me, it was the constant assumptions about gender that left me feeling, well… not much. It was tedious. It was formalized. It bored me. It was pretty much anything but sexy.
After years of reading about power play and the dominance/submission aspects of BDSM, and connecting the dots to my own life, I never quite connected to the word “sir.” I never called anyone it, my fondest submissive memories are usually involving me being practically silent. When I dom, well, “sir” just never seemed like me. For mostly the above reasons, because it wasn’t sexualized, it wasn’t connected in my head to power, it was tedious and boring. tedious and boring are not what I want when I’m fucking.
So, when S asked permission to call me Sir while she was subbing to me, I said sure presuming that it would be good for her headspace, and do little to me. Not that I expected it to be negative, but that it wouldn’t do anything. I was wrong. Very wrong.
The moment she called me Sir, I felt it throughout my whole body. Words have a lot of power with me, and the power this one had for me took me by complete surprise. I did not expect to enjoy it so much. Hitting her I knew I’d enjoy, I’ve known I’m a sadist for a long while, it just took me a bit before I could bring myself to hit her. But I always knew I would enjoy it once I worked through stuff in my head about hitting the girl I was dating (consensually of course.) I knew calling her “my girl” would ring well in my head, and body. I did not expect to enjoy being called Sir.
I love certain kinds of surprises. Less the, someone else springing something on me surprise, but rather the kind of realizing something that I hadn’t before. Discovering that a former trigger has resolved into a rare occurence, discovering boundaries have loosened, that there is further to go. And that was one of those surprises.
Answers with an Agenda 9- Using Hands
Remember those awkward questions? My most memorable was asked of me by two of my friends, one very close, one not so close, during high school bio class. One was the younger sister of a lesbian, the other was a bi chick, and both were progressive, supposedly very well sex-educated high schoolers… and yet they asked. At least they knew to feel embarrassed about how they were asking, but they genuinely wanted to know…
How do two girls have sex? (Or… two people with cunts)
First of all, not everyone has sex the same way, regardless of bodies, identities, and relationships. Not every heterosexual, cisgendered, etc. male/female couple has penile/vaginal sex for sex. So, two girls? Yeah, lots of ways.
But I’m not going to directly answer this question, because anyone reading my blog is not at sex ed 101, but more like 112. So, since not all girls have cunts, not all people with cunts are girls, since not everyone with a cunt calls it a cunt, or a pussy, sometimes its a front hole, sometimes a clit is a dick, etc., I’m not going to tell you about some of the ways two girls have sex. I’m going to cover how two people who both happen to have cunts could have sex, though it will be by no means a comprehensive list. But there really is a TON to talk about, so it will be in three parts, and today’s?
Using Hands
Now this set of methods is fun and easy. Person A, uses their hands on Person B. Person B may or may not be using their hands (on Person A) in return. Things to do with hands include (but are by no means limited to): tracing patterns on skin, scratching someone’s back, playing with their hair, flicking their nipples, slapping their inner thighs, caressing their arms, holding their wrists, rubbing their dick/clit/slit/etc. So much to cover, but here are some highlights and tips for those methods:
When running your hands across someone’s back, a light touch can be delightfully sensuous, and lightly running your nails across someone’s back can send shivers throughout their body. If they are into pain, potentially digging in a bit with your nails, scratching up their back, can be quite a bit of fun. Some people like this type of pain, others do not. A good rule of thumb is start of light, and not assume that another person likes having their back gouged up and blood drawn. Unless of course, they’ve told you this before.
Wait, you say, this isn’t sex! Well, for some of us, it is. I’ve gotten off before from someone doing nothing more than scratching my back and biting my upper back/shoulders/neck area. The next day I had a beautiful set of scratches, welts right where my backpack sat, and was a very happy masochist. But sex isn’t about getting off. It isn’t just about genitals. So, expand your thinking a bit.
But I’m going to be talking about genitals. Something more traditionally regarded as “sexual” when using hands is when person A uses their fingers to pleasure person B through touching B’s cunt. Now remember, foreplay is not just fun, it can make the whole experience a lot better. I love teasing, I am a giant tease, but I do, eventually, sometimes hours later, follow through. That build up can lead to much better orgasms. Try it out.
When you are person A be careful about having nails and accidently scratching person B. Also, be aware that cuts on your fingers can greatly increase the risk of sexual transmitted diseases, so this would be the time to use latex or nitrile (for those with latex allergies) gloves. They actually has a really fun feeling, and it helps reduce the risk of scratching by accident with nails. Also, if you have very long finger nails, you can stuff cotton balls into the finger tips and that way will not scratch your partner.
When actually touching your partner, be aware that different people have different preferences. Some people might really enjoy having their labia majora (outer lips) stroked lightly, a good way to start touching the other person, and seeing if they are comfortable with having you touch them there at all. There are times I don’t want to be touched on my cunt regardless of sexual desire/attraction, even with long standing partners, so be very watchful of what your partner’s reactions are like.
Now, there is a reason I stuck the diagram up there. It’s often a good idea to start exploring and have an idea of what is where with each new person, because different people are laid out differently, though that is the general set up. Take a look. Stare. Enjoy the view, and I mean really appreciate it. If you are having trouble appreciating it, go read/see “Because He Liked To Look At It” from the Vagina Monologues. As much as I detest Eve Ensler, that is a fabulous piece. So, send your fingers exploring, take a look, and figure out how the person is laid out. Generall speaking, however, the clit is found under its hood, and below that is the urethra, and below that is the entrance to the vagina. Moments like these are when having a more standardized set of words that don’t sound like medical instruments would be nice. Regardless, the first piece of anatomy that I’ll be discussing playing with in more detail is the clit/dick/little guy named the clitoris in the above pic. I’m going to call it the clit for this post because it is just easier to type.
The clit is a fun little, or not so little, bundle of nerves. It extends back into one’s body actually, which is partly why pressing down on the mons can be so much fun for some people. Regardless, it is essentially a bundle of nerves, and a LOT of them. It is the highest concentration of nerves in the human body, of any sex or gender. That means it is very sensitive, especially on the head/tip of it. Some people don’t like direct stimulation there; it can be painful or overwhelming. A good thing to do instead is rub the clit through its hood. For instance, since it sticks out, you can actually rub it up and down or back and forth in between your fingers, essentially jacking it off (occasionally this is refered to as jilling off.) I’d recommend using lube for this, preferably non-glycerine lube, and definitely not oil based lube. Oil lube and cunts don’t well, and glycerine can increase the likelihood of yeast infections.
For more direct stimulation, a good method is place a finger direction over the head of the clit (you may need to gently pull back the hood a bit to get there) and rub back and forth gently, increasing pressure to the point where they enjoy themselves. Some people like a LOT of pressure, some hardly at all. Harder and softer do not mean slower or faster; those are two different scales! You can go hard and slow or fast and soft just as much as you could go hard and fast or slow and soft. Really. So, go off of the other person’s preference. Another really fun trick is to rub in a circle, this one is good for any pressure level but I’ve found works better when moving your fingers a bit faster.
Sorry, couldn’t resist. Anyways, another tip that I have is that remember the clit isn’t just the tip, nor the top. There is also an underside, closer to the urethra, and some people really like that part rubbed. Just sayin’.
Anyways, if your partner is so inclined as to enjoy penetration, remember what I said about gloves? It is all the more important here. Gloves protect the wearer, as hands frequently have cuts on them, and protect the other person from nails (or rough, calloused hands that some may not like.) Also, fun with medical roleplay is possible here, if that is your thing. Moreover, lube here can be very important. If the person is really wet, awesome. If not, it doesn’t necessarily mean they aren’t turned on, a lot of things can cause this: testosterone, allergy meds, birth control pill… Which is why it is a good idea to always have some cunt-friendly lube on hand.
Either way, slide in one finger at a time. A lot of people automatically go for their index finger, but I often find that using my middle finger works better, gives me a better angle and maneuverability. Don’t add more fingers unless you are pretty damn sure they can handle the extra girth, and dont’ add too quickly. Stretching a person out too fast can make them feel as if they had been scratched and can kill the mood real fast.
Feel around, find the spots that make the other person gasp and moan. Good spots include the g spot, a spot, and the cervix. Not everyone likes all or any of these stimulated, but for each one, here is some advice:
- G-spot: slide 1 or 2 fingers into the cunt and feel the side of the vagina closest to their stomach/mons pubis, not the side closer to their back/ass. There should be a spot not very far in, that has a different texture. That is the G Spot. Move your fingers along it in the “come hither” motion. There is a reason this is fairly well known, it works damn well.
- Another inch or two past the G spot is the A spot. This one is best detected by first finding the G spot, then sliding your finger(s) further inside the other person until their reactions tell you that you hit something good. Again, the come hither motion is good to apply here. Be warned, both the A spot and the G spot can cause that “need to pee” feeling. They can also cause female ejaculation.
- If you push your finger(s) in deeper, you will eventually feel the cervix, a harder ring of flesh deeper in the cunt. It feels very different than the rest. Some people really like pressure against it, some really do not. If your partner does like it, try spinning your finger around the circle with a decent amount of pressure. They will probably make delightful sounds as a result.
Maybe you slide a finger inside and they wanted more, so you slid in another. And a third. And suddenly you both realize, you want to try fisting. In that case, go see my first AwaA on fisting.
So, you’re fucking them and having a blast. And suddenly their clit… retracts? Now, this actually means they are around 30 seconds to a minute and a half ish away from getting off, so do not stop what you are doing. No really, keep going, they will thank you for it.
The biggest piece of advice I can give though, is listen to the other person. If you are the receiver, give feedback. If it is good, give signs like “mmmhm,” vigorous head nodding, to “OH FUCK YES!” are both nice indicators. If you want them to do something different, tell them. Show them. I find that one of the hottest things a partner can do is move my hand to guide me better, because its hot to know they trust me enough to let me know, its hot that they know what is better, and its especially hot knowing that they are going to really enjoy what is coming.
Any tips or suggestions you have? Please feel free to comment! If you have a question you want answered in AwaA, please either comment or feel free to shoot me an email. Also, the next two AwaA (barring unforseen circumstances) will be parts 2 and 3, involving using one’s mouth or using toys.
On Why I Currently Don’t Have A Safeword
The short reason is easy: I’ve been doing things where yes means yes, and no means no.
The longer version is a bit more complicated. First of all, I have not been playing with people besides S very much recently, which means I don’t need to think about as many interpretations of reactions and words. It is just us. I don’t need to shift my speech patterns because there is only one set of dynamics I am engaging, namely the set of dynamics between S and myself. We have not been playing with scenes where “no,” “stop,” “don’t,” or “Ow!” means anything besides no, stop, don’t, or ow that hurts (admittedly, ow does not necessarily mean no, stop, or don’t.) Thus, we don’t need a code.
We have briefly talked about what we’ll do when (not if) we start playing with scenes where “No, please don’t!” could mean “Holy shit, whatever you do, don’t stop!” In that case, we’re probably going to use the traffic light system. Rather than a single word for “halt this scene right now,” there is a bit more of a graduated system. Red means “halt this scene right now,” while yellow can have a few meanings, such as “no harder,” “I don’t want to stop but something isn’t working,” etc. Green, a fabulous part of this that doesn’t get used enough, means “Hell fucking yes,” or… just yes. It’s useful for checking in quickly, to make sure everyone involved is still in a good place for the scene.
But I haven’t actually set out a safeword with someone since high school, because that was the last time that no might not mean no. Not everyone needs a safeword. Not every situation needs a safeword, but if you are going to have one listen to it. If you aren’t going to have one, then you need to listen to when the person says, “no.”
Maybe me saying this seems like common sense, but common sense isn’t so common. Said relationship where we had established a safeword, neither the safeword nor the word “no” was ever respected. On the rare occasions I was brave enough to attempt to turn the person down, and held my ground with it, I was guilt tripped. When that didn’t work, the person turned to further emotional and psychological abuse. Not exactly a healthy relationship, I’m well aware. Consent is a major thing, not listening to a safeword, or the word “No” in non-safeword specific contexts, is an explicitly nonconsensual interaction. Moreover, unless there is pre-given explicit consent, then there is no reason to think the person has given consent. What I mean by that is either asking explicitly “Is this okay?” and not continuing until the person has said yes, nodded their head, or otherwise given a clear-cut answer, or preferably getting clear-cut consent before the action occurs.
I have generally found people in a BDSM/kink/fetish social context to be the best about general consent. They ask before touching me, and will even apologize for accidently bumping into me. They ask before rubbing my head. With a community so focused on maintaining things like “Risk Aware Consensual Kink” or “Safe, Sane, and Consensual,” the social interactions tend to be very good about consensual touch. Yes, I said tend, and specified social interactions. I haven’t played all that much outside relationships, and those few times I have it was almost never outside pre-established friendships, so it has come up less for me than for others.
And as I had previously mentioned: checking in is awesome too. Bottoms/subs/recievers/slaves/etc often don’t safeword. Maybe it’s out of pride, or eagerness to plese, but checking in really helps to keep things going right and keep them safe. Also, for the record, tops/doms/ommes/masters/etc. might well need to safeword. Needing to stop is not just for bottoms! (Also, for an extended version of these sorts of thoughts, go check out this.)
So no, I don’t have a safeword at the moment. I haven’t needed one for years. Not because I’m a bad kinkster, not because I don’t respect safewords, not because I’m not obsessive about consent, but because I have only been in situations where “no” means “no.” And know what? It’s been fucking hot.
Key Terms:
safeword- a word used in a situation in place of “no” to bring an immediate halt to the actions occurring.
playing- engaging in sexual, kinky, BDSM, and/or fetishized activities: I enjoy power play. I want to play with you.
scene- a specific period of time during which persons are playing: Our scene lasted two hours last night. (can also refer to the BDSM/kink/fetish community as a whole.)
Also, tomorrow’s AwaA will be answering one of those “awkward questions” that I have previously written about. As usual, if you have a question you would like answered, feel free to comment/email me and let me know!
Keeping it Light…
My mind shivered at the feel of the rope in my hands. Sliding it through to get the right length for tying her hands together; nothing elaborate I have to remind myself. My mind shivered, but I could not let her see, instead I smirked keeping control.
After over a week’s aftercare being done in one shot that same day, I agreed to play on one condition: we kept it light.
If you want me to dom, then submit. You have to be willing to give up that control… and as I moved her head, turning it however I would, I saw surrender in her eyes and I thought “I love her.” So, I leaned in and bit her hard, digging deep into her muscle, her traps, loving the feel of her between my teeth, of her tensing, then slowly relaxing into me, submitting. I pull back and look at the mark before slowly licking around those enticing indentations…
I had her pinned down, ropes laying across her chest held by my hands, enough pressure for her to know there was no point in fighting me. Black rope, blue sheets, white skin, light from the windows reflected into an ambient glow by the white walls, she glowed under the rope. I pulled back to watch, pinning her down with the rope pressed into her skin. Keep it light, just some rope, just some power, add a dash of teeth…
Curled around her after, aftercare was no issue this time. We had talked about the last two times, finally talked, and she was trusting me again. Wrapped around her, I let go. I let myself open up in return. It wasn’t make up sex from the night before, it wasn’t “just” anything, because no matter how “light” it seemed it reached both of us as we needed it too. I don’t know quite what opened up for me the last few times… but I want to keep finding out.
This blog contains sexually explicit material, so please be of legal reading age for your location. Any questions, concerns, or things you don't want to leave in a comment, feel free to email me at xmechbeyond AT gmail.com
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