Orientation Series: Sexual

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So far in the orientation series, we have talked about kink/vanilla, gender identity, and poly/monogamous people. The last pizza of the puzzle is a person’s sexual orientation.

Here is some of the things considered to be sexual orientations:

Straight: Attracted to the opposite sex.

Gay: Attracted to the same sex.

Bisexual: Attracted to men and women.

Pansexual: Attracted to everything.

Asexual: Not really attracted enough to anything to want to have sex.

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Now, these are narrow boxes created by narrow people. That means they don’t cover all the shades of sexual orientation that there are. For example, my husband is Heteroflexible. This means that he is mostly attracted to women, but he is also kind of just down to fuck. If there was a line of people of various genders, he would go for the female ones. But, if there is not a willing woman about or if the mood strikes, well then, whatever.

The most important thing to remember about orientation is to not let people force you into a box. People are fluid and adaptable, and they do not belong in boxes. If you are a lesbian who is mostly into girls, but you think you might want to have sex with a boy, then don’t let your lesbian girlfriends dissuade you! Try it. Maybe you’ll like it.

My sexual orientation out of gate was straight. This is because before puberty I still considered myself a boy, rather than what I am now (a boy living in a girl’s body.) And before puberty, I only had eyes for women. There was this girl named Samantha that I can remember wanting to kiss so bad that I thought the whole world must be able to hear my thoughts creaming out of me. I wanted to run my fingers through her hair and touch all of her skin and breathe in her smell. She was tall, blonde, and extremely pretty. I wanted her more than I ever wanted anything.

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I never got Samantha to give me the time of day, but I did find my very own pretty blonde when I was twelve. Her name was Summer, and she actually looked a lot like Samantha. We messed around every time she slept over.

Back then, I never looked at boys. I saw them as friends, but not as anything to be interested in. Girls at school talked about this or that famous boy being hot, and I was unable to think of anything to say. My celebrity Crush was Cindy Crawford. Then later, Angelina Jolie.

I went though puberty the summer before High School (which is really late, and I like to think my sheer determination to be a boy is what delayed it a few years). I started to unwillingly take on some female traits, because as I have said, form sometimes dictates behavior. You might be a boy inside, but you become at least partly female once you start getting periods and realize the enormous burden that your body is dictating that you must carry.

Periods. Birth Control. Pregnancy. Menopause. Holey shit.

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In High School I experimented with dating boys. It didn’t really fit. But then, sex with girls hadn’t exactly fit either (since I couldn’t have sex with them the way I instinctively thought that I should.)

However, I can’t remember being attracted to a boy until college. His name is not important. We called him “Pretty.” He was annoying as hell, but he was so delightfully feminine. He didn’t grow hair on his face because he was Native American. He had soft angles and curves. He wore his hair long. And, he was a moody little bitch. I was in love at first sight. Somehow his feminine qualities made it make sense.

After awhile, I started to genuinely appreciate men. I mean, I still don’t check them out in the streets. I never got that far. And I do still turn my head every time for a pretty woman. BUT, there is something about sex with men that is easy and fun. Their bits fit bits fit with my bits, and if I don’t think about it too much, I can just be in my body instead of in my head.

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However, I have found myself attracted to all sorts of people. Sometimes it’s pheromones (like the court jester I ran away with this one time.)  Sometimes it’s an intellectual attraction, like my rocket scientist. And sometimes it’s just convenient and easy and who cares cuz sex is fun?

I mean, sometimes I think people overthink it too much because it’s just sex. I have had sex with most of my friends, and it’s just one of those things were you think “I wonder what it would be like?” And, if it’s bad, of well. We move on because I am a goddamn adult and I can do that. Sometimes it’s good, and it becomes a thing we just do whenever we are in the same place and it’s not a big deal.

However, I respect that some people really just NEED to be in a box. Those people tend to pick a label, ignore all feelings to the contrary, and try to stick with their entire lives. And hey, that’s cool. If you want to be in a box then you should be. However, I notice that these people can sometimes be really judgmental about people like me. So for those of you who really love to cling to your label and only be one thing: I am totally cool with that. But, you know, leave me alone about what I am into. Because, like, it’s just everything.

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Pretty Little Princess

The couch I tied her to

The couch I tied her to

She walked into my house nervous. Yet, it wasn’t the bad kind of nervous where you have an edge of fear and dread. It was the excited kind of nervous where you’re like a puppy jumping up and down. She was glad to be here.

This is meant to be a stand-alone scene. It is just a moment in time. We don’t really know one another, and we may never see each other again. But right now, in this moment, she wants me to Dominate her. She wants to be my little slut, and do all the things I say. She wants to please me.

Still, I don’t start right away. I  negotiate. I am always keen to get the ideas for a scene straight beforehand. That way, I can avoid anyone being disappointed later. When we are finished I tell her to strip. She is shy, and only takes off her shirt. I let it be, because I will enjoy undressing her anyway.

She is a work of art.

I imagine she weighs about 100 pounds, and she is slender, with curves in all the right places. Her ass has just enough shape to make it attractive  and her breasts are just big enough for my hands. Amazingly, I can see her stomach muscles. I take a moment to appreciate how much she must work out, and how impressive the results are.

I start by pulled her breasts out of her bra and using it to prop them up. They look nice this way, and I can appreciate her adorable, round nipples. I squeeze them until she flinches a little, so I can get an idea of how hard to be when we play. She said beforehand to be gentle and I will try, but I am not known for gentle.

Slowly I remove her skirt, and her panties. I have her step out of them. As I bend down to  toss them aside, I am distracted by her beauty and I find myself kissing all of her while she stands nearly naked in my living room. I kiss her legs, her ass, her back, and all along her shoulders and neck. I bite her ears softly, and she sighs a little. I want to drink in every inch of her.

I am almost ready to hit her. I take off her bra, and her breasts are free to rest against her body. She is certainly not the first  girl I have played with, but as I look at her in the candle light now, I am sure she is the most stunning! I know I should order her around, hit her, and fuck her. She came here to be abused. Yet, it’s so hard to stop licking her, covering her skin with kisses and nibbles and squeezes. As my hands run along her perfect body, I can not imagine anything more lovely.

I am reminded suddenly that I can be sentimental. I am not typically, because I mostly play with men. (They are much easier to get.) Yet, they do not evoke this sort of passion in me. For this delicate and beautiful creature, I could write poems. I could walk through fire if she asked. Women are so dangerous to me, and yet, so lovely. I am enthralled.

I tear myself away from her body and step back. I examine the toys I have. She brought a riding crop, and so I think I should try that first. I enjoy the way a good crop feels like an extension of myself. It’s like a little hand on a stick. I can use it to caress her breasts, but then I can pull it away and use it to slap them. I do this now, only lightly. I love the way they jump! She squeaks, because she was unprepared for the pain.

“Hold still now,” I whisper.

There’s no important reason to tell a submissive to hold still, I suppose. It’s meant as a command that can not be followed. Who can hold still and take it when they are really being hit? So when the victim jumps or squirms, you tell them they have earned more punishment because they were naughty.

Yet, as I begin to hit her harder, she does not jump. I actually hit her really hard a few times and welts raise on her back. Still, she doesn’t move. She stands up straight with perfect posture; feet together and shoulders back. She has been trained extremely well, and I am very impressed. It seems there is nothing about her that is not pleasing.

I switch to my flogger, because I enjoy the way it sounds when it slaps someone’s back. Her tiny frame makes a smaller target than I am used to, but I am surgical with my flogger. I can hit someone exactly where I mean to and exactly as hard as I mean to. I love when you get to know a toy well enough that you can use it as if it where part of your own body.

When I am done her back is red all over, with some pretty impressive welts on it. She hasn’t moved an inch and has hardly drawn a quick breath. Such a good girl.

I bend her over for a little bare-hand spanking, because I enjoy the way it feels on my hand. Of course though, once she is bent over, I can only think of her pussy, and I begin to rub her.

I command her to move then, and I tie her to my couch. Her arms are tied to the back, and her legs are spread wide apart. She looks wonderful tied there! I inspect her pussy and find it trimmed, and smelling lovely. I start to lick her, and she reacts then. She squirms and begins to moan in the most wonderful way. I slide a finger inside her, and find that she is so tiny and tight! I love the way her pussy grips my finger as it slides in and out. She moans louder and it sounds like she is about to cum, so I stop. I am not ready for that yet.

“No no,” I say. “I want to play so much more first.”

I untie her, and clip her cuffs on her hands together behind her back. I push her down on her knees in front of the couch, and tell her to pleasure me using only her tongue. While she does this, she must also keep her balance, with her hands restrained behind her. I giggle a little when she slumps forward, trying to find where she should be without her hands, and while blindfolded.

When she licks me it is perfect. Her tiny little tongue is so soft, and it feels amazing. I loose myself for a moment and forget where I am and what I am doing. All I can think about is her, and how good she feels. I particularly love the way she leans in and just rubs her face in my pussy. I can not enjoy it when someone goes down on me unless they love doing it. She does. I am in awe.

At some point I throw her on the table and fuck her with my strap on. I love the way she screams!  And, when I get frustrated that I can’t be pressed against her while I am fucking her, I stop, and I pick her up. I hold her there, with her legs wrapped around me like a tiny koala. I love being pressed against her like this. We fall onto the couch and roll together. We end up with me sitting, her on my lap, cuddling and rubbing and kissing each other. It’s the most amazing feeling ever! She plants little kisses on my forehead and I melt inside.

As we wind down, she whispers “That was perfect.” I wish I was a more eloquent person, because I want so much to express my happiness to her. Nothing I can think of in my head sounds good enough, so I cuddle her that much harder and whisper over and over that she is beautiful, as we go upstairs to bed.

I fall asleep with her in my arms, and I think she is perfect. Yes, it was a stand-alone scene. It was just a moment in time, and she will leave in the morning. Right here right now though, for this moment, she is my pretty little princess and I am the happiest Domme on Earth.