Craving for more, Hyper-Sexual, Passing Woman, What Women Really Want

A Changing Sexuality – Eye for Men

I had a dream. I was standing alone with a police man. I don’t think he was dressed in an uniform, but I can’t be certain anymore. He was a man build like a bull, big, fit, very muscular and had a hair the color of straw. I wanted him. Somehow because he was so big, I wanted him even more. I never used to like men like him. I picked my men from a narrow pool of wuthering hights and showing rib cages. Men who worked out with me, those with arms as wide as my thighs, bulging muscles and clenched jaws, never had my attention.

Until now.

I notice every bouncer who isn’t butt ugly. I look after the working men coming to have lunch in the near by restaurant. I shamelessly eye the very young men in the parks throwing frisbee without their shirts on.

I was left speechless when there was a new cashier in the grocery store near us. He was beautiful, arabic features and coloring, but spoke our language as a native. He looked into my eyes a while too long when giving me the receipt and I was struck by a lighting. What a beautiful man.

But when I see a really big guy, who has been working out. When I did my workout near a guy who lifted 170 kg just like that. I smiled at him, I smiled so wide. I want to touch men like him. I want to be under them. I want them to take me. And him, as any other decent man, smiled at me and was polite, wonderful. Cheerful even.

In the dream there had been a crime: a rape I think. We were talking about a woman going to a car with a stranger with the police man, not a nice one, not a one you could trust. A brick wall of justice and menace at the same time. Like a superhero gone bad.

You know how that’ll end up, he said.

Yeah, I said.

She’ll get raped, he added or then we both just knew what he meant.

But he meant more than that. He was propositioning me. His car was just around the corner, and I could just walk there with him. He was promising me he would rape me if I did.

I took a hold of his hand. I wanted him to ravage me. I remembered I was married. I knew I shouldn’t, and I had to stop for a second, to try to convince myself not to do it. But I took him up on his offer and called his bluff. Well, what are you gonna do now?

His hand was bigger than mine and wide and warm. He guided me, not to his car, but to a huge warehouse with sheet metal covered walls and hallowed halls filled with car parts and wooden crates.

When we got in I saw a woman dangling from the ceiling by a harness farther inside. She had wings and a huge black dildo in a harness at her crotch. I mean huge, the thing was down to her knees, shiny and bouncing as she swung on the harness back and forth. Her face was hidden in a glittery and feathery mask.

The man was now more a bull than a police. He grabbed me and started to hump me from behind before I could touch him. I suddenly knew that he wouldn’t give me the satisfaction of his own cock, that he had a mechanic cock pushed between my thighs. He pushed me down on a bed and came on top of me. I could see his square jaw, his broad neck and his blond hair. He was so not like my Wonderboy. And I craved it.

Suddenly his humping and desire came to a halt. He clutched me into his arms rough and panted in my ear.

The lady in the harness came down, took the mask of and was at the door before I could realize what was happening. She had a giant tube like gym back and was dressed in gym clothes, not so scary anymore.

Men, they are all like that. What a pity, she said like we were accomplishes in a mutual scene.

It took me a while to realize that she was referring to the guy. He had come too soon, all over my clothes.

I woke up not horny but craving the physical overpowering of a strong, big bodybuilder like my police. The dream made me smile through the day. I daydreamed about it. But it is so like me. Even in my dreams I don’t get the pay-off of cheating. I get realism.

As I’m growing older I seem to notice my horizon on sexy changing, widening. I like that. I can appreciate bodies I would’ve felt were unattractive before. And it seems to me to be somehow very symbolic that I’d mostly desire after the big, masculine men. They have after all, the age old marks of high testosterone levels – bulls for my ever needy womb.

I doubt it’s as straightforward as that, but I believe that’s one of the reasons. And I don’t mind. As long as I can admire from a safe distance. As long as I can dream.

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Fertility treatments, Gender stereotypes, Hyper-Sexual, I am a girl, Learning to negotiate, Love, Wonderboy

Getting It In

I left you hanging there, didn’t I? It’s hard to write about all the hot stuff we’ve done when I feel like my ovaries are going to burst any second. That’s actually something the doctor warned me about, so now I’m lying on the couch and trying not to strain myself. I have 8 large follicles developing in my left ovary, so hooray for us! They’ll take them out and fertilize them on Friday, so wish us luck.

It’s funny, that though I’m hurting a bit and quite a bit more irritable and tired that usually, I’m also more horny. Figures, when you think that the hormones I inject kind of make for a super ovulation. I actually badgered Wonderboy to fuck me without foreplay so that after I’d had an orgasm or two, he still couldn’t. Finally he gave up, hugged me and said that we had just started too quickly. Situations like this always remind me of how the world has screwed us up. I would’ve never imagined that a guy would require foreplay and a sense of being loved in order to have sex when I started out this thing called sex. I thought that was something that was reserved for girls – boys just wanted to get it in.

There was also that time that I really wanted sex, but was too angry to have it. We tried to start but everything went sort of wrong when I freaked after giving him head. I just didn’t want to do it, and because I somehow couldn’t say it (because normally I do want to, even enjoy it, and I was baffled, and also just wanted to get to the sex, dammit!), I got angry and stopped everything and said that this is it, I’m done.

Wonderboy tried to figure out what was wrong and tried to cuddle me with his hard cock starting to droop, and we didn’t know where to go from there. And then he said,

I don’t really feel that the physical stuff is enough. I need to feel the love too.

I tried to explain, still pretty angrily, how I felt – what the hormones made me feel and how weird it was. How angry I was, but tried not to be or express it, because I knew I wouldn’t normally feel that way.

So you feel abnormal? Wonderboy asked emphatetically.

No, I feel normal. I just know that I wouldn’t feel this way, if it wasn’t for the hormones.

And no wonder! They are shooting me up with a doze that would work on a horse (because I’m a poor responder).

Even the leaflet on the medicine we inject said that maximum amount injecting a human is X. My dosage was more than X and also I’m being injected with another hormone to do basically the same thing at the same time. It’s perfectly understandable that I’d have side-effects. It’s just that when Wonderboy got used to the injections and treatments, he also forgot that being more relaxed about it doesn’t change anything the hormones do to me. He does remember now, and promised to go to the grocery store today, because I’m not allowed to carry anything heavy now. My left ovary are so full it could twist and burst, if I do something too strenuous. Also, it hurts just about all the time, so I’m not tempted to try anything. Walking’s enough.

After the discussion, Wonderboy started to caress me from head to toe, just sweeping his hands all over me. And it melted me. All the anger was gone. I caressed him too, much in the same way, and he said later how he felt that he was filled with my love – unlike when we started out and I was too angry.

There was sex. There has actually been so much sex during this treatment that Wonderboy’s required celibacy (for 4 days) is something we both notice. It’s been a long time since 4 days was something to remark on. I hope this is something that we’ll get to keep. But of course I start on the progesterone on Monday, and no one knows what they’ll do to me this time.

I don’t seem to get to the hot and juicy d/s games. I have too much on my mind right now. I’ll just leave these ramblings here and try again later.

Tomorrow is the big day!

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BDSM, Hyper-Sexual, Learning to negotiate, Love, Male Lead Relationship stuff, Sex stories, Submissive tendencies, Wonderboy

Happy submissive orgasms for everyone!

It was thursday, the day I stopped taking the hormones. Well, guess how long it took for me to start dragging heavy breaths in near Wonderboy? Guess how long it took that I started to desire his touch, smell him, taste him, feel desire in my body as it came alive just because I was close to him?

Two days.

I can’t even begin to explain (but I still will!) how it feels to be out of the deathly grip of estrogen tampering. I feel so much alive. I’d forgotten how it feels to be sensual. Well, almost, because if I really had, I wouldn’t have been depressed about being deprived of it. But you know, sensuality is so much more than the word sounds like. With the hormones I felt that my senses were dulled or even nulled totally. Kissing didn’t really give me pleasure at all. Neither did smelling Wonderboy or giving him pleasure or gentle touch on me. Or playing with power dynamics.

We went at it first on saturday, because friday Wonderboy was too tired. Or teasing me, because he’s such a tease and he hasn’t been able to express it, because my sex drive has been nullified. It was incredible just to kiss him. I felt so much more. I had forgotten, how it felt to become alive all around while kissing, just kissing him!

There was a moment where we had to pause. I confessed that I felt a little scared and he held me – and then we kept going. There was also a moment in which I was on top of him and it just didn’t feel that good. Maybe because I was scared, maybe because of other things. So I said that I didn’t feel that good and we stopped for a minute. This is a phenomenal accomplishment of me. Communicating about negative feelings and things that don’t work in a sexual situation. And I did it even after the long dry spell!

He started to lick me, because honestly, that’s been the only thing working for me with the estrogel hell. Well, it didn’t work no mo’. For a while I endured (yeah, really) and then I asked him to come up and cuddle with me a bit. And after we talked about it, and I started to feel less afraid, we kept going and it was wonderful.

I writhed on top of him out of my mind and as I fell into the black oblivion, drooling all over him, convulsing, it flashed in my mind. This is the way it has been before. It was just so far away from what I’d felt with the hormones. And after the orgasm on his cock, on him, with my drooling manic act, I truly realized why Wonderboy had been ambivalent about my orgasms and even suggested that I wasn’t really having any. The difference was so phenomenal, how could he not notice. How could he not feel something was missing, when I was missing!

And today… He fucked me, which still feels kind of violent, because of the things the hormones did to my physics. But then he stopped, when he saw that I was missing something and asked, if he’d go down on me. And my answer was immediate.

No, but could you dominate me a bit.

I had asked him to order me around when we were getting warmed up, but he had confessed that he felt scared to do it out of the cold like that, when I’d been so dull to it for so long. He did order me around a bit, though, and it made me happy. And after I asked for more…

He spit on my face. He slapped my face, over and over again. He suffocated me a bit. Hit my tits. Held my face by the jaw, the way I like – like I’m a dog of his and he’s teaching me who’s the boss. He told me he likes to hurt me. And he fucked me so hard it hurt.

When all this sunk in. When I felt it, the sweet oblivion building up from inside me, swallowing me, tears welled in my eyes, because of the catharsis, of the love, of being owned and hurt like that. But I could feel his boner getting a bit droopier inside me. He lowered himself to kiss me and asked, are you getting scared?

I was so happy he asked.

No, I’m just scared enough, I answered. I like it when you hurt me, I added in a voice he could barely hear.

It all ended in a mutual orgasm and sweaty bodies. But somehow I know we could’ve handled any other outcome too.

Now Wonderboy’s in the other room playing by himself, as I did earlier today too. He came up to me to tell me and to get an empathetic answer and reassurence I wouldn’t blow up about it later on. I hugged him and told him it would be wonderful, if he’d play a little and that I’m here for reassurence and sexual exploit, if he needs any.

I think I just want reassurence, he said.

Then he hugged me and happily closed himself in the other room.

It’s just so incredible. This in exhange for what I had less than a week ago. No wonder I felt my life was empty. This makes me think really hard on the fact that I was on hormonal birth control for over 10 years, which is not entirely unlike what I was on now. I just wonder, if I’d discovered my sexual submissiveness earlier without any hormones what so ever…

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BDSM, Hyper-Sexual, Learning to negotiate, Love, Male Lead Relationship stuff, Sex stories, Submissive tendencies, What Women Really Want, Wonderboy

Happiness and feeling equal and not ashamed of what you want can do this to people

Being really sick has been eye opening as hell. In a good way. First Wonderboy had a really bad influenza for a whole week and stayed at home because of that. Then I got the same damn thing and I’m still in recovery.

With Wonderboy home we got time to mend our relationship. We’d spent the weeks leading to the sickness discussing our infertility and other personal issues in depth. It had been really important to me, but Wonderboy thought it was just wallowing.

You could probably see that I was pretty frustrated with our relationship and it culminated in me complaining about how Wonderboy takes part in housework? I believe that this is because of my therapy. I’ve begun to see, how I step over myself almost instinctively, which is stupid, because then the people I do stuff for don’t even realize I’m doing stuff for them.

I have a small but significant example from yesterday. Wonderboy had ordered us pizzas. This happens like once every three months. We were lying on the bed with his laptop ready to bust some myths (you know what show I’m talking about) and pizza boxes on our laps. Suddenly Wonderboy realized he wanted to add this chili ketchup on his (also seen in the Big Bang theory episodes!). Since he was holding the laptop he just assumed that when he’d say he wanted it, I’d jump up and get it. These kind of situations just open my eyes so much, because now I have no trouble drawing the line. I didn’t want the kethcup. There was really no reason that I should get it. Except the fact that I’ve been completely and utterly too nice my entire life and done things like that, because I’ve put other people’s situations, emotions and whatnot before my own. I didn’t have that trouble now!

Great idea, I said.

He gestured to the laptop in his lap.

Why don’t you get it? he said.

No! I laughed out. It was so clear. There was no doubt in my mind or my voice. It’s such a small but important thing. Why would I compromise my comfortability to get him something while he did nothing? It boggles the mind that I used to do this. What is also important, this being a d/s blog and partnership in some respects, is that I would totally do this, if it was a d/s thang. But it’s not as evidenced by his behaviour. I feel this attitude of his – and mine of course, I am also to blame for carrying the weight – impaires our d/s dynamic. What effectively changes, when he orders me, if I’d do it anyway?

I’ve actually been using this in a way to lure him to order me around. When he would ask me to give him the milk from the fridge, I’d just say no. He would ask nicely again and I would still say no. Then I’d add smiling, There’s one way you haven’t tried yet. He’d get it and command me to get the milk, smiling, and we’d both be a little happier for it. The small things. They just make the umph.

This can’t happen in the setting we’re set out for ourselves. For his dominance to be meaningful in our relationship – because I’m not trying to say that people can’t do these things differently – we need to be equal and feel equally responsible and cared for.

It all comes back to our sex life that has been through a shredder recently. This inequality and my eyes opening about it has had some serious consequences on our sex life. How could it not, when everything we love has so much to do with power play? I even uttered the words I thought I’d never hear from my cock loving lips: I don’t want to give you blowjobs for a while. Wonderboy tried to make fun of what I said by saying: Okay. So you will never, ever again give me a blowjob. Get used to it, he added mimicing my stern voice.

No, I just don’t want to give them right now.

And then we discussed what had happened, when I’d asked him to lick me and he didn’t. I said I felt that there was no way for me to communicate my needs, because while we were having sex, he just wouldn’t oblige because of the d/s. And when I brought the things I wanted and needed up later on, he would chastise me for not asking for them while we were sexy. Now I had the opportunity to show him, how I actually did ask for things I needed, but he wouldn’t oblige. And how that had actively harmed our sex life in the past, because I’d just given up on trying to get what I needed, if he wasn’t magically doing it right all along.

Then I politely asked him to think of ways I could communicate that I really mean what I say and really need those things, because there wasn’t one in my opinnion. This lead to him realizing the same thing and seeing my situation for the first time as it is. It’s not just my fault, it’s a problem with communication. So, effectively, also his problem. He suggested that I’d try the way of appealing to him.

Maybe if you’d say “if I’m good enough, will you do this thing for me? I am a really good girl, aren’t I?”

So, by incorporating it to our play, I could tell him that I really wanted something. This seemed like a good idea. Instinctively I used it yesterday, a couple weeks after the conversation.

He had lifted me on top of him and demanded that I grind myself against him in just the right way. He enjoys playing with my tits and especially licking and sucking on my nipples while we fuck with me on the top. I can’t actually feel much in the way of his tongue’s magic touch in the heat of the moment, and yesterday was the first time ever, I could utter the words: Bite them. Please? Pretty please. I could see him hesitate for a nanosecond before I added the very girly and innocent please. That was just what had happened before. How his brain works. He almost didn’t, because he’s in charge. But then when he did, he bit me like he wanted to. Viciously. I came instantly. It was ridicilous really, but also pretty nice to prove the point of d/s being a two way street. He could see straight away how hearing me affected me.

Sometimes even a submissive knows exactly what they want and it can be imperative to fulfill those needs. I am not a machine and even though I enjoy the submissive role thoroughly, there’s also the very real, corporeal (heh) responses and needs that just can’t be walked over.

So, anyway. Baby steps maybe, but things are improving how ever slightly or slowly. Wonderboy’s been washing the laundry like there’s no tomorrow and doing chores he never used to. (And I never realized!) He’s also begun to talk about his anxieties in a lot more open way, and so have I!

Wonderboy just called to let me know that he’s heading back home from work. He’s still sick. Funnily enough this is almost good news. We get a little vacation with us both home sick. There’s been a lot more sex now that he’s home all the time. A lot more honest talk about wanting it too. And I? Well, my engine’s been running like crazy and I’ve been having orgasms alone and with him many a time every day. I just don’t feel guilty about it anymore. As I don’t feel guilty about not fantasizing about him, if he’s going down on me or while masturbating.I don’t feel guilty for wanting him to do things for me that might be uncomfortable for him or that he might actually not enjoy doing. I’m not worried about that anymore.

This, my new un-worrisome attitude, realized in me having three or was it four orgasms last night while we fucked. One was for him biting my nipples while I was riding him. One was from him dominating me with his eyes and overpowering me with his hand in my hair, hard, unforgivable. I just felt hot waves and shivers run through my scalp, back and ass, when I fell and fell in to the submission, in his rough hands. He spanked my ass and unlike recently I was able to fully take the hits, enjoy the pain that went through me like a wave of electricity. I made a small whining noise that wouldn’t stop. I was his little pet, waiting for it, not wanting it, craving for it. One, I think, was from him fucking me really fucking hard and explaining how he really didn’t give a fuck if I enjoyed or not. His eyes. His eyes locked on mine. His lips. Parted so enticingly. My submission was so overwhelming that after the sex was over and we were done, laughing and hugging and tangling on the bed, he took me by my hair, pushed me against his chest and shook me from my hair. I came once more.

Happiness and feeling equal and not ashamed of what you want and enjoy can do that to people.

Also. I have found Rocco Siffredi. ❤ This guy moans and boy do I love the way he dominates those chics. I just wish the chics could be a little less noisy.

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BDSM, Coming out, Feminist musings, Gender stereotypes, Hyper-Sexual, Volatile bodies, What Women Really Want

Orgasm And The Way Gender Performance Screwed It Up For Us

It’s so long ago it seems like a dream, but there was a time, when I thought I just couldn’t orgasm from sex (of any kind). The men I had sex with had no idea how to pleasure me and most of them hardly tried. It didn’t matter though, because the most important ingredient was missing – BDSM. Clarisse Thorn has written an honest and brutal account of not being able to achieve orgasm, ever, and how it’s affected her, her relationships and her view of the world. She also writes a lot about the reasons behind it, and most of them seem to be entwinded with performing our gender and sexuality as expected.

She has an excellent list of study questions that I’m about to dig in to, because there was once a time I had serious discussions with my friend about possibly not being able to achieve orgasm, ever, during intercourse or even with another person. Because I really didn’t know they could not be the same thing. I was able to reach orgasm by myself, so I had a pretty good idea what worked for me. I just wasn’t able to communicate any of that and kept trying to fill my role as the Woman in the heterosexual equation. My experiences with women, on the other hand, were orgasmic abound, but I didn’t connect that with sexuality for a long time, because there was no intercourse and it was so forbidden to be drawn to the same sex I had to repress all of it.

1) What questions do you have about your orgasm?

It’s funny. I’m known as the orgasm machine around my friends and family. Just because, I guess, I can orgasm from intercourse alone. I can pretty much orgasm from anything that fulfills some kink of mine or is used in a play that does: ass fuck, biting my ear or my neck, slapping my face or my butt etc. Sometimes.

But other times.

My problem is that sometimes the orgasm I have from not clitoral stimulation are mind blowing and satisfactory. Other times they aren’t as much. My partner really can’t tell the difference, if I don’t voice it. I usually don’t. And here’s why: It seems too arbitrary. Why am I suddenly just going through the motions, but not feeling satisfaction? I mean my body builds to an orgasm and eases up straight after just like any other time. The difference is really, if nothing more, emotional.

When I pleasure myself I always mostly play with my clitoris. It’s pretty straightforward, just a little movement of finger or a vibrator jammed up there against my clit and my fallback fantasies of men and their stepdaughters or sons in the air of non-consent. I just never felt comfortable doing my clit teasing with men. It wasn’t expected, I was supposed to have enough without it, and once when I tried I was being chastised for making them feel inadequate.

It used to be really unclear to me what makes me orgasm during sex with others. I did, but I didn’t understand it, because it didn’t seem to involve straight clitoral stimulation, quite to the contrary. I don’t want and can’t take clitoral stimulation (via hand) when I’m fucking someone. It just doesn’t feel good. This didn’t fit any script I had about sexuality. How could it suddenly be not pleasurable?

I used to fantasize a lot. Without it it was impossible for me to orgasm. With Wonderboy I’ve learned that I don’t have to fantasize, (all the time) because we can step over the fantasy and make it more real by installing some sort of d/s roles. I’m still not sure about the effects pain has on my pleasure. This is a thing I’ve just started to discover. I’ve also been discovering how I react to domestic submission and possibly even male lead relationship model and how they give me pleasure, but also make me happier in my relationship with Wonderboy and strangely with other people too.

1a) Where have you researched the answers to those questions?

I’d say the wrong places. A popular trope is to say that women in particular are not as sexual as men and aren’t able to orgasm from intercourse alone. And that’s fine! I’ve turned myself over to pinpoint what happens in my body and to understand is it really vaginal orgasm or a clitoral one. I don’t care anymore. I’m pretty sure my orgasmic ability is going to be none the better for the possible answers. But I’ve read a lot which has hurt me. I’m looking at you, Freud.

One of my big worries used to be the fact that I sometimes squirt. Is it pee? Where does it come from? How can I explain it and stop it? It doesn’t help that it’s seen as a “money shot” created by the porn industry and featuring only water or pee for the sex crazed male masses. I’ve seen and read countless medical health care specialist attest to the fact that it’s not real. I’ve also been attacked by friends and allies alike for stating that some women actually are able to produce a flow like that and it’s perfectly healthy. Researching this fact via the internet (articles, others’ experiences, researches) helped me a lot at accepting this bodily function that I can neither help or force to happen.

1b) Have you ever discussed those questions with your partners?

To some extent, yes. Squirting I commented on the first time we fucked, because Wonderboy made a remark on me “wetting the bed” or something. I said “It’s not pee, you know” and he answered “I know, I saw this documentary about it”. In the same lines I’d say that easily accessable information has been a tremendous help for me. As have been the real life stories of others. By this I mean mostly personal blogs. We’ve been discussing, negotiating and dissecting (oh yeah) the issue of BDSM and our roles in regards to it and to each other the whole time we’ve been together. It’s getting easier, because I’m less worried and repressing about it and more open about communicating what I think I feel and think I want even when I’m not sure. Because with this it’s pretty hard to be sure even half the time.

Also, Wonderboy had this habit of asking me did I come after sex and rectified the issue, if the answer was no. Nowadays he just asks, if I had fun, because really, that’s enough, if I don’t insist on an orgasm. But I usually do.

2) What questions do you have about your partners’ orgasms?

It’s been hard for me to accept that even a man can’t have orgasms all the time. Wonderboy is clearly the more orgasmicly challenged of us, but this only means that he is prone to be more exhausted and that takes away his ability to go over the edge. I’m much better at handling that now, but the first years I drove myself crazy trying to pleasure him when the game was lost and just made him feel inadequate too. I’m also very interested in the ways kink plays into his pleasure and arousal and orgasming and have discussed it in detail with him. I can usually get an orgasm out of him by trics of that well, if he’s at all able to come.

2a) Have you ever asked your partners about their orgasms?

Yes. I’m really curious and even slightly obsessive about them.

3) What’s one thing you wish you’d said in bed to a partner?

I don’t want this now.

(Edit. This might not be sex itself, but something they are doing to me or initiating.)

3a) What would have made it easier to say it?

Thinking that I matter too, not just his pleasure, insecurities and needs.

4) What are your favorite sexual acts? Are there other ways you could perform them?

I don’t know about performing them differently. My favorite sexual act is intercourse where I am forced to move in a certain way, overpowered, suffocated, forcefully handled, dominated and hurt at the same time. I also really need there to be a back story, d/s roles, not just blatant giving and receiving pain. My favourite type of play is daddy and his little girl. Edit. And playing a prostitute who gets raped. And now that I think about it rape play and non-consent of any kind. I also love orgasm control scenarios of any kind on either one. And I love giving head, especially when I don’t feel obliged to do it and forced to but guided or ordered to. I love pain play and spanking also. There’ a lot of stuff he that can be done in a myriad ways and I feel I only know a small fragment of them. So, I think there’s lot to explore.

5) What’s the best sexual experience you remember? What made it great?

Ummm. This is a hard one. It’s actually this one rape scenario where Wonderboy also raped my ass with his fingers at the same time. I remember it as one of the most meaningful and intense sexual experiences of my life. But at the time it hurt me and broke me, because it reminded me too much about my very real rape experience that I hadn’t yet gotten over of.

6) What’s the hottest thing you’ve seen or read? What made it great and are there ways you could participate?

7) Does anything from this article resonate with you? What?

A lot, actually, which took me by surprise. The need to appease your partner and not be to demanding lest you be a bitch. The thoughts of what constitutes sex and how poorly that overlapped with what I needed out of my sexuality. Repressing kinkiness and suffering from it through sexuality but also through self-doubt, identity crisis and relationship difficulties that couldn’t be attoned. It’s important you speak up, and I feel it’s important that I speak up too. These experiences did not happen in a vacuum, and the way our stories entwine, I’d say our views of male and female sexuality hurt us more than should be expected. Which is not the fault of any particular male, although I think I have had worse luck than Clarisse when it comes to emotionally disabled men with no ability to discuss or take my pleasure into consideration. Being sexual with them certainly didn’t help my self-discovery, which really only kicked into gear after I met Wonderboy, who used to be more interested in my pleasure than his own. And who was ready to discuss and change things as we go along.

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BDSM, Hyper-Sexual, Love, Male Lead Relationship stuff, Sex stories, Submissive tendencies, Unanticipated Satisfaction, Wonderboy

A Part of Our Sex

Everything started when Wonderboy said he didn’t want to have sex, but had already been initiating it with me, because he knew I wanted it. He said he felt that I didn’t really give him intimacy, just a prelude to sex. Funny enough, I wasn’t expecting sex, because he was tired and I’m a bit sick, but his interpretations are his own and real to him. He rolled on top of me to hug me and I started asking questions all the while caressing his head, shoulders and back, the most unerotized parts of him.

Would you feel better, if we had our clothes on? If I only kiss you without tongue?

I hugged him in a silly way wiggling my butt and my legs and head, because he was doing it first. Humour seems to always save the day and it did now too. We started laughing. He said, in a sly way, that there is something you could do to make me feel better. This is our code for give me a blowjob. I laughed, caressed his face and asked, really? Now? And he laughed that he was only kidding.

It’s impossible to tell, if you’re serious or not, I said and hugged him tight, pressed my face to his neck and wiggled some more.

That’s why I love you, he answered and meant the fact that I was more than willing and ready to go down on him the minute he brought it up.

And here’s the thing. He knew I wasn’t necessarily looking for reciprocity. Because something has shifted in me. A block that used to stand between me and my desires to submit. Wonderboy commented on it yesterday, when I said that he is such a good master for me and makes me so happy.

It’s easy now that you’re so in tune with yourself. You’re not afraid of the things you want anymore. That makes me able to do stuff to you.

I laughed incredulously, because I recognized that he was right. Something had changed while I wasn’t looking. While we weren’t practicing anything more male lead than normal. While he wasn’t even so much domming me in bed. I had come to terms with it during the pause of breath.

I have, haven’t I? I answered and smiled exhausted and happy.

Can I play now? I asked right after.

I thought to remind you to ask before. I knew you’d want to play again tonight, he said. Go ahead. Play. Now. I’m gonna go brush my teeth and I’ll be expecting you in bed, he said and I was left with the feeling of being rushed and commanded and so, so happy.

I came with a hearty exclamation fantasizing about what he’d done to me earlier, fucked me fast and furious just to get himself off and demanded I fake my ooh aah’s. I was happy to know that Wonderboy would hear it from the other room and know that it was his doing even though he wasn’t even in the same room! Afterwards I cuddled into his naked nook and said I felt my playing was part of the sex we had. It was, he just said and kissed my neck.

Back to today.When Wonderboy was feeling better, loved and cared for even if he didn’t give me sex, I said something I’ve been thinking a lot about lately.

You could use this you know. The fact you don’t want sex. You could tease me about not giving me cock today and maybe not even letting me play.

I won’t give you any cock today, he answered, already ahead of me. And I’m not sure, if I’ll let you play either.

I cried out a little sound of pleasure.

You can’t get turned on. Only bad girls get turned on. And I’d have to punish bad girls.

Another sound of muffled pleasure.

He kissed me passionately and I couldn’t help getting revved up. I answered his teasing tongue with passionate lips and tongue.

It’s not fair to kiss me like that and then be hurt that I get turned on, I said. It doesn’t mean I’m expecting or demanding sex. It’s nice to kiss anyway.

And then I asked him our trademark question what now? and he answered with a question of his own.

What would you like to do?

Play Sims, I said, because he’d made it so clear that he didn’t want any sex.

I’ll play my own game first, he said and I complied.

But as I was getting up he flipped me on top of his body.

It’s so nice that you’re happy like that he said. You’re so wonderful and feel so good. He put me on top of him, straight on top of his cock, and started kissing me and grinding against me.

I’m not going to fuck you today. But maybe I’ll let you play. If you’re reeally nice.

It’s not fair to tease me like this, I said and grinded against his growing cock.

After a while he made his way to my cunt.

Oops, he said. I’m just tipping it in a little. I’m not going to fuck you.

He slid his cock in and out in slow movements and when I tried to answer them, he said,

You are not allowed to move.

Will you not let me come either?

No. I’ll just tease you.

He teased me some, but his cock didn’t stay hard enough. I wasn’t disappointed, because I thought he had given me all I could want from him since he wasn’t interested in having sex. But when I got off of him and asked him, was there something I could do to make him feel good, he asked me to massage his feet while he drinks some wine. I massaged his feet as best I could and he sipped his wine studying me. I felt content. I felt happy. I was making him feel good and that was all I wanted. I said as much to him. He kept saying how much he enjoyed my hands, but he kept saying it in a sexual way. Just the same as when I’m blowing him.

Yeah, just like that. Uh-huh, there. That’s it. That feels so good.

It didn’t really tunr me on, but it made me even more content. It showed me my place.

When I was done, he commanded me to kiss his cock.

Do you want me to only kiss it? I asked after giving his cock some kisses on its lenght.

No, suck it.

I complied.

Looks really beautiful, how your hair falls down, he said and kept brushing it aside to see my face. I kept looking at him through the threads. It was hard to do and keep his cock from hitting my teeth, but I always raised my head again. I wanted to connect with him. He wanted me to watch him.

Look at me, he said near the end whacking his cock forcefully while I was licking his balls, licking his cock from bottom to top, ticling the head and getting back down to circle his balls with my tongue. He came while looking into my eyes intently, mesmerized. I only found out in the shower that my mascara had started to run down my face because of the fierce and deep licking of his ass and balls, and it had turned him on a lot. Making me dirty and vulnerable. Maybe even the fact that I didn’t know about it.

After he’d come he said, You were so good to me today that you get to play. You licked me so good.

Thank you, sir, I said.

You can play, he said again.

Now? I asked. With my hands?

No, take all the toys in, he answered and took the glass of wine in his hands again, sipping wine, lying down, naked.

I pushed the little vibrator/dildo in my cunt like I always do when I play with my toys and started using the big ball end vibrator on my clit. I was intensely aware of his eyes on me. I looked at his beauticul cock, now smaller and relaxed. I looked at his hairy chest, so muscular and broad. I looked at his lush lips brushing on the glass. I though about the things he had done to me. How he’d said I couldn’t play. How he’d teased me. I thought about him watching me, studying me. I was afraid he’d tell me I couldn’t come right before I was coming. I was worried it was too much for me, that his eyes were actually criticising me, that he was maybe getting bored.

I shut me eyes and focused on his presence. He grapped my left nipple and tortured it a bit. I started getting close. I thought about him teasing me. I though that he’d masturbate on top of me and just put the cock in between strokes, so I wouldn’t get off, but he would. I thought he’d masturbate until he almost came and only then would he give me his cock.

I was so slippery I could barely feel the vibrator. I stucked it against my pubic bone so hard I could almost feel my skull rattle. I stuck the little dildo in me and kept it there. It went so far and my cunt was so slippery that it was almost impossible to find it and move it.

And then I came with a BANG. I screamed, I trashed and the dildo shot half a meter from my cunt past my guarding fingers. I came so hard I couldn’t stop it.

I started crying a bit and went to hug him. He knew what to do and commended me, how good I’d been, how well I’d behaved. He kissed me and hugged me and held me.

It felt like it was part of our sex, I said.

It was, he answered and held me tight.

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Craving for more, Gender stereotypes, Hyper-Sexual, Learning to negotiate, Love, Volatile bodies, Wonderboy

The Merry-Go-Round of Sex and Guilt

I tried to talk to Wonderboy about sex. I told him I hadn’t been asking his permission to play. I said I’d been worried that he’d feel bad about me wanting so much, and him giving so little, when he could see how much I really wanted it, because I had to ask him every time. I told him, how I felt he was somehow distant and mechanic with me. I said there hadn’t been enough sex and that I missed him.

When he licked a stray coffee drop from his mug that morning, my body twingled. When he accidently held my face while kissing me, my heart fluttered. And he was distantly acknowledging all of this, but acted like he wasn’t. Pretty disturbing. Emotionally exhausting. Everything is fine. Except he won’t kiss me longer than it takes to give a peck.

His answer was that we’d had plenty of sex this week. Monday was mutual oral, because he was too tired for else. Tuesday was fucking. Friday we fucked, but he didn’t come and I had to work hard on him to get him there. Saturday we tried to have sex, but it didn’t work out at all for either of us. So, four times in a week. What do you want?

I explained that every time had felt strained to me. I’d felt a pressure to try to keep him going even, if I wasn’t really enjoying myself that much. All of the fucking happened while I was still not ready, I wanted something more to turn me on enough. I came on Tuesday, so what’s the fuss? It was pretty bad. I only enjoyed the immediate end, which also made me come. Before that everything had felt so tentative, so mechanic. His kisses, his actions. It got worse.

He wouldn’t admit to any of it. Granted I didn’t go into full detail, just said how I felt.

When he came to be, I had decided to try to fix things a bit. I’d gotten so lonely and sad masturbating by myself and just missing him and his body, him! I knew he didn’t want sex, but I wanted to try to have some sexual communication with him. I’m all naked under the covers, I said. You can try, if you like. He came to bed, and close to me, but didn’t do anything, so I said ti would be nice, if he touched me. He reached under the duvet, patted my pussy and then left his hand hanging over my belly like a dead fish. He didn’t say anything.

This is what they call initiating, I said. I tried to make out what was wrong, but I couldn’t. His face changed and I asked, Are you okay? Did you get sad somehow?

I waited. And I waited. I asked again, and his answer were the like of monosyllable-man. No. Okay. I’m fine. I don’t know.

I petted him and hugged him, but he didn’t seem to do much. He wasn’t really giving me any feedback. Then he finally said, I just don’t feel like playing. After half an hour, it felt.

Funny thing was I didn’t get angry that much. It was evident there was something he wasn’t telling me, and I just didn’t have the energy to pull it out of him. I thought, perhaps for the first time, that he’d have to come to it by himself. He has to be able to tell me. It’s not my job to always drag every little bit of anxiety and second-guessing out of him for him. So, I rolled over and tried to get to sleep. I was really tired and sleep didn’t seem so far away, when he put his hand on my waist.

In that touch there was longing, gentleness, love and knowing me. The touch was everything I’d longed for the whole week. It was him in his touch. Where had it been? My heart and my cunt answered of course, but I knew he just tried to lift the blame, to draw me close and go to sleep like everything was okay. Like he hadn’t offended me. But he had. It wasn’t the rejection, it was the way he did it and refused to talk about it. I felt my needs weren’t even meaningful to him.

You know what I did, don’t you? While tears built up, I stood up and went to the other room to sleep. It was too much. He was dangling the affectionate touch he hadn’t given me the whole weekend before me. After a while, he popped in naked and only asked me, Do you want me to lick you?

You want me to come back to bed? I asked.

Do you want me to lick you? he insisted.

Of course, I’d love that, I said and kissed him. He stood up.

Well, you better come to bed then, he said and left.

I could feel his touch had a bittersweet taste at first. His tongue was more pointed, not as enjoying and lavish as usual. But I didnt’ mind it. He was offering this to me, it was his gift. I decided to take it. I pushed his hands against my sides, his fingers were on my back and on my tummy like he was holding my whole body, cradling it. He was warm and I left my hands against his arms. I felt connected with him again.

I didn’t try to build up the orgasm. I didn’t flex my body in desperate attempt to catch it. I didn’t give him any enhanced signals of what I was feeling. I let his touch flush over me slowly. It built up with my fantasies about being his little girl. In the dark. He always wants to see me, but it was dark now. I could feel his touch softening, surrendering, when I started to let out little sighs of joy, when I trembled and pulsed. His hands were looking for a different hold, his fingers trembled against my skin. It sent warmth through me. When I came, my cunt let out a little stream of wetness. Gentle sex. Getting to know each other again.

In the dark he came right next to me. I kissed him and hugged him. And then he could finally say it. What had been on his mind.

I just felt that you were pressuring me to have sex. I felt that I had to try to fuck you, because you said that we hadn’t had sex at all this week. You were pressuring me, and I didn’t want to have sex.

He was talking about the time Saturday, when we had to end it abrubtly, because it wasnt’ working out for either of us. But he thought it had worked for me.

That’s why I haven’t wanted to do any sexy stuff with you, he concluded.

I’m so sorry, I said and caressed him and held him as tight as my arms could. But I didn’t want to pressure you. I was okay with us not having sex. I was bewildered, when you started fucking me. I wasn’t even ready.

I was just expressing how I felt. It wasn’t meant as an accusation. It would’ve been just fine to talk about it.

But you said that how is it even possible to be tired from Friday’s fucking? he said.

I didn’t say that.

I was quiet for a while. I was pondering. Where had he gotten that idea? I knew I had been disappointed on Friday and Saturday, but I hadn’t said it, and certainly not like that.

I said I can understand you’re tired after a really hard week and the workouts and the possible cold teasing you… I said, because those had been my words. Although I had been really disappointed and he’d probably only picked on that and didn’t even remember my actual words.

No, you didn’t! he said, but didn’t seem so sure anymore.

Maybe you just have such mixed emotions about not wanting sex as much as I do. Maybe you read stuff into things that isn’t there, because you feel that you should fuck me more. I wasn’t pressuring you, because I love you and enjoy your enjoyment. I was okay with us not having sex.

It can’t all be in my head! he exclaimed.

No, yeah, I was disappointed and sad about it, but that doesn’t mean I’m pressuring you. It’s not your job to fuck me whenever I want it. I understand, if you can’t. I might be a little sad about it, but then we can talk and hug each other. There are always things we can do… I hesitated to say the last bit, because I thought it might seem like pressuring. It’s not his job to lick me or pleasure me by hand, either, if that’s not what he wants. But I guess he didn’t have a problem with that concept.

I kept going.

It’s like sometimes, when you get really angry at me for being angry at you – but I’m actually not angry! You just think I am, because you feel guilty over something. Like you feel guilty for not wanting to fuck me as much. You get so defencive and start to fight even, if I’m okay with everything.

You might be right, he says in the dark and looks the other way. I kiss his neck. I hug him.

I only want to be good to you, I say. I get off on it, remember? You’re just too hard on yourself.

I’m not, he snorts. But you’re probably right about the guilt thing.

Then there is naked cuddling and we fall asleep in each others arms. In the morning he wakes me up with a kiss like every day and says he’ll be going to work now and I say I hope he’ll have a wonderful day and he says the same to me. And then I get antoher kiss and fall back to sleep.

I think it might have been a shock for him to know how much I really actually need orgasms even if he didn’t say so. I’ve never revealed it to anyone, because it has felt possibly intimidating. And I think it was. He felt the pressure to give me more, since he knew exactly how many of my orgasms were coming from him (roughly half, I think). Maybe we’ll get back to it when things have settled, but for now I play when I like. It calms my nerves so I can handle Wonderboy’s guilt trips and also his rejections better. And he doesn’t feel pressured to do anything just because he knows exaclty how much I want.

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