Noah would like it if I could get it up tonight. Which means I'm trying to get in the mood. Right now my favorite song is Stuck on f*cken you. It makes me happy. I've been thinking about what stories I want to tell in the book. On one hand this is my version of exhibitionism; on the other hand I'm not just doing a gratuitous listing of the sex I've had.
I have been thinking about a woman I dated for a while when I first got into the scene. Technically I dated her and her master. I was already seeing Tom but we hadn't decided to be monogamous yet. I was out having experiences that he didn't really want to know about. I had an interesting time hearing them talk about doing drugs and playing. That was something forbidden in Tom's corner of the scene.
I met all of these people through an IRC channel. There was a local room. I spent a lot of time there. When I was bored late at night I would periodically ask people what they were doing. Then I would meet up with them wherever they were. This couple in particular lived in San Francisco. She was a database administrator for
I remember visiting them in the office. She was babysitting something and couldn't leave. I drove up from San Jose. She mostly worked but occasionally walked out for a fondle or a grope. The guy and I had a highly suggestive conversation. Of course we would be going to their place once she finished up for the night. While we were killing time the guy told me to walk over to the large windows at the front of the building. It was after ten at night in the financial distract--at least there weren't many people around. When I was there he talked me through masturbating in front of the window. He was quite explicit in how he wanted to see it happen. Pull my skirt up. Move my panties to the side; don't take them off. It's nice seeing the cloth bunch up in the crease between my thighs. It's dirtier. He had me fuck myself with my fingers for a while. Then I sucked them clean. I smiled when he asked me if I was a dirty whore. Only on my best days.
When we went back to their place it was interesting. The woman and I pretty much had to wrestle one another to decide who got to be in the middle. Who is more aggressive? It was clear that the boy was going to be giving most of the directions. Who had to be on the bottom of the pecking order?
I hurt her. I hurt her a lot. I spanked her. I used a cane on her thighs. I beat her with her clothes on. He smiled and watched. They both knew I was new and he gave me occasional pointers. She was generous and accommodating with her smart ass comments designed to provoke me into hitting her harder. Eventually I got tired of pushing her around the living room and I grabbed her by the hair. I asked him where their bedroom was and he pointed. I half dragged half pushed her in an awkward position somewhere between being down on all fours and up on her knees down the hallway. I didn't want her to get there in any kind of comfort or dignity.
We had our safety chat with her on her knees in front of me. STD prevention is important.
I lay back on the bed and pulled my skirt up and my panties off and she decided I was a low enough risk that she was happy to start licking my cunt without a dental dam. I have never managed to figure out dental dams. I feel like this is a failure in my sex life. Anyway.
After a few minutes of squirming I sat bolt upright and said, "Right!" Then I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her on to the bed on her back. I stopped and breathed a big deep breath and smiled slowly and deliberately. I knew this would be different. When I got her pants and panties off I smiled again.
"Nice clit, girl."
She beamed at me. She glowed. She looked like it was her birthday and Christmas all rolled up in one. She bit her lower lip as she squirmed. I think she liked how I looked at her.
"How do you want me to touch you?"
She showed me.
I was fascinated. The point was not to get the biologically-still-a-penis hard and sit on it. What the hell do I do now? It was different. It was lovely. The point was making her squirm and moan. The point was alternating biting her thighs with gentle strokes on her clit. That made her fists clench and her toes curl and she had the best throaty growl/giggle.
After a while I started getting bored again but I wasn't sure how to transition. Luckily she was a perceptive girl. "You want a dick, don't do?"
I conceded that this might in fact be the case. She sighed deeply and reached over her head towards a drawer. I looked because I am nosy as hell. Out came a strap on harness and dildo. Oh my.
She was really good at fucking. This was back in my oh my god it all feels so good I think I'll orgasm again, thanks stage. I miss that stage. We went through a variety of positions and eventually my head was buried in a pillow as she fucked me from behind. She alternated slamming her cock into me with slapping me on the ass to make me scream.
Her partner got tired of watching. I found this out when he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her off of me. I only knew that was happening because she cried out when it hurt. Then I felt him behind me. I reached back with my hand, felt a condom, and started saying, "Yes" over and over. He fucked really well too.
I like fucking people who expect to get a show. They both wanted big reactions out of me and they were quite happy to taunt me, ridicule me, hurt me, or be sweet and loving if they had to. But not for long before they want back to hurting me and fucking me. I liked them liking me. I felt really hot.
Sometimes with slutty people I think, "Ah! You have low standards" and sometimes I think, "Ah! You are highly sought out" and it's more fun to fuck the second kind. With the first kind it feels kind of extra dirty in the less fun way. I still do it because I have low standards. See, this is why I don't want to do that any more. I digress.
There is a particular kind of fame that comes from being able to do the fun-to-watch performative sex well. It's very limited in scope unless you get into porn and then it defines your life in a different way. I have never been paid as a pornographic model though I have done it for free. It's all about fuzzy lines. I've never been a sex worker.
The after cuddling was almost as fierce as the sex. There is an intense bonding from violent sex. You are orchestrating an experience together that is about skirting the line of how much pain can be doled out. It's a complicated balance. In my experience I feel a lot of bonding emotion short term and I always maintain a little bit of a connection. Sex is intimate. With them there was a lot of relief all around at finding another person who gets us. Wanting to be hurt the way we all hurt one another isn't common in the vanilla world and we were all young and fairly new to the scene. We still had the thrill of recognition of tribe.
She is the one who told me that I shouldn't call myself bisexual. I asked her why not. She asked me if I wanted her to pick a gender and stay there or is she allowed to play somewhere in the middle. I told her that she can do whatever she wants. She told me then there isn't a binary gender and I'm not "bi". I asked her what I was and she told me queer.
I remember how she raked her nails down my neck. It hurt. It burned. It felt really good. It made me gasp. I like it when my breath comes short like that--with a little squeak. I like being surprised.
I watched them have sex next. I asked them to tell me why they like each other so much. It was quite sweet hearing what they each like about the other. The beauty they find in one another. I was just a visitor--what bound them together?
I had private reservations about some of the things they said but I decided that it wasn't my life and I could be just supportive. I focused on the good sex. How can I help you two?
Eventually I passed out on the bed. I think I ended up in the middle. I love being in the middle of multiple bodies after sex. It feels comforting and assuring. Here are these people who like me and will be here to guard my dreams. If you have the intimacy of shared sleep after group sex it is a different experience, in my experience at least.
Your early experiences form who you are.
I run into her every so often. Him too. They aren't together and haven't been in a long while. Life has taken them very different places. When I saw her last I told her I didn't feel like I was queer any more and she laughed at me. She stroked my face and told me that leopards don't change their spots. Then she kissed me. I lurched towards her to kiss her back. I would have done pretty much whatever else she wanted too.
Now I'll never kiss her again. I don't feel very queer any more. It feels like my orientation is "not hunting".
But when I masturbate sometimes I think of her. I think of touching her. I think of her smile and the way she sighed. I think of the taste of her. I think of how surprising it was to have her suddenly start fucking me. I think of how nice it was when it wasn't a surprise any more and we had been fucking for weeks and we knew the rhythm and the height and the speed. She was really good at fucking. She taught me how to use a strap on. She bought me my first vibrator and taught me how to make myself come.
Eventually the guy kind of scared me and I stopped coming around. I didn't like finding out he was on ecstasy while single tailing me after I had been made to bleed repeatedly. I would have made a different choice.
Once you say yes once your only way to say no is to walk. That's my life experience. It makes it hard to have ongoing relationships. I have to be very careful what I say yes to.
Time to go think about this Noah person.