100 sexxay things about Omnivore

Inspired by Wendy Blackheart at Heart Full of Black, I give you 100 things about me, the sex list (with some love and truth and beauty thrown in for good measure).

1. I took my own virginity.
2. No, really. With a small, pink, very ladylike bottle of roll-on deodorant. I broke my hymen, and that hurt a bit, and then I pushed the bottle in farther and it felt good. And then I stopped. Because I was afraid.
3. This was after an aborted attempt to “give” my virginity to a boy in the back seat of a car.
4. While he was pulling down my pants, I asked him if he had a condom. “No,” he said, rising up to kiss me, “but you don’t want a piece of plastic in you the first time, do you?”
5. He couldn’t penetrate my little 13-year-old cunt.
6. There was no foreplay, which probably didn’t help.
7. We broke up soon afterward.
8. I was 14 years old and a freshman in high school the first time I had sexual intercourse.
9. I was 19 years old before I had sex without a condom.
10. Twice I went to the same anonymous HIV-testing clinic with a man so we could fuck without a condom.
11. I think it’s kind of romantic to go get STD screenings together.
12. I paid attention during sex ed. Back then, they actually told you about the various forms of birth control and how to use them.
13. According to the current abstinence-only curricula taught in public schools across the country, I am a piece of scotch tape that has been stuck to so many arms that it can no longer “bond” properly.
14. I’d rather be a slut than a whore.
15. I reclaimed the word “dyke” early on.
16. I didn’t reclaim the word “slut” until I was over 30.
17. I didn’t reclaim the word “bitch” until this year.
18. I fell in love with a little red-haired girl when I was in the first grade.
19. I fell in love with a little brown-haired boy when I was in the second grade.
20. I told my fourth-grade teacher that I loved my best friend so much that if I could I would marry her. Her response shamed me deep into the closet for a decade.
21. When I was a toddler, I remember discovering the interesting folds of my vagina while sitting in the living room watching TV. “That’s a private place to touch,” said my mother. “You should only touch that when you’re in the bath or in bed alone at night.”
22. I didn’t have a real orgasm until I was in college.
23. The boy who gave it to me was a black boy with a moustache. We were never really dating.
24. He did it by going down on me with enthusiasm, and by doing it longer than anyone had done it before.
25. The first time I ejaculated was with a small, hard plastic vibrator. I was about 19 years old.
26. I had to throw away that futon less than a year later because it started to smell really funky.
27. My boyfriend said “Are you sure it’s not pee?” the first time I came on his face.
28. Later, I asked my girlfriend what it tasted like and she replied, “your hot, salty cum.”
29. The first woman I fell in love with was a summer exchange student from a local community college.
30. She gave me a tiny hickey, and when my mother asked me who had given it to me, I told her.
31. My mother’s initial response was “Ew”.
32. Later, my mother told me she loved me no matter who I was or who I was with. She bought me combat boots and a toolbox.
33. It took me ten more years to realize I didn’t have to be butch to be a dyke.
34. I didn’t come to terms with my bisexuality until five years after I came out of the closet.
35. I used to call myself a traitor to my own kind.
36. I am very, very good at eating pussy.
37. I am very, very good at sucking cock.
38. I can deep throat, but only if I’m really into the guy.
39. Finger-fucking gives me carpal tunnel syndrome.
40. I like 69ing, but I’d rather be on top.
41. My favorite way to come is on my back, with intense stimulation on my clit.
42. After I turned 30, I started having vaginal orgasms regularly and repeatedly.
43. When I come during PIV sex, my cunt has been known to clench so hard it pushes my lover’s cock right out.
44. I have been known to ejaculate from PIV sex.
45. I have been known to ejaculate from a spanking.
46. I think cybersex is cheating.
47. I don’t think I’m really polyamorous, but I like to pretend when I’m single.
48. I once spent seven years in a lesbian marriage (the old-school, illegal kind) that suffered from serious Lesbian Bed Death.
49. I have cheated on more than one partner.
50. The part of cheating I hate the most (in myself and in others) is the dishonesty.
51. I like to have sex at least three times a week.
52. I can go for extended periods of time without any kind of sexual contact, without missing it.
53. Twice after long-term relationships I’ve used Craigslist to find and fuck a good assortment of lonely, horny men.
54. Once I got an email from the girlfriend of a man I’d slept with once. It turned out that he had lied to me about being single. I apologized to her and confirmed that he and I had slept together.
55. I have never had sex with a transgendered person.
56. I find butch women very attractive, I’ve had sex with many “gay” men, but men in drag do nothing for me.
57. I see transgendered people as my siblings in gender rebellion.
58. I’ve fucked women with my “psychic cock” and made them come.
59. I’ve come while fucking women with my psychic cock.
60. All of my genderfuck is behavioral. On the outside, I’m very clearly a girl.
61. I’ve taken people to task for using the word “queer” as a pejorative.
62. I love the word “queer” because it includes all sorts of sexual and gender minorities.
63. I have had lovers of many different races and nationalities.
64. I lost count of the number of lovers I’ve been with sometime in my early 20s.
65. I used to feel deeply ashamed for having so many sex partners.
66. I have been deeply in love somewhere between four and six times in my life.
67. I have never consistently enjoyed anal sex as much as I have with Bran.
68. I didn’t come to terms with my BDSM tendencies until January 2008.
69. The first time I heard about fisting was when Susie Bright came to speak at my college in the early 90s.
70. Less than a month later, my tall, rangy boyfriend with the really large hands managed to fit all five fingers inside me.
71. Cunnilingus is my favorite thing in the whole world.
72. Sexual intercourse is my favorite thing in the whole world.
73. Rubbing my face in a woman’s wet, juicy pussy is my favorite thing in the whole world.
74. Group sex is my favorite thing in the whole world.
75. The first time I made out with more than one boy was when I was 15 years old.
76. My first threesome was with two men, as a freshman in college.
77. FFM is my favorite threesome combination.
78. Bran and I have fantasized about bringing a submissive woman to bed with us.
79. I fall in love very easily.
80. I’ve often confused lust for love.
81. I’ve had sex in the back of a car on Highway One in Northern California, on the beach outside of Santa Cruz, in a hotel room with lots of other people having sex around me, on the kitchen floor, on a golf course, while driving, and probably lots of other places I can’t remember.
82. I find double-penetration (one in the cock, one in the pussy) fascinating.
83. I have never been fucked in the ass and the pussy at the same time by two actual men with actual penii.
84. I have experienced double penetration twice with a man and a handy dildo, and each time it was AWESOME.
85. Once, when I was walking by some neighbors, I heard them repeating something I’d shouted rather loudly the night before.
86. The thing I’d shouted was, “Oh, baby, fuck me in the ASS!”
87. The windows had been open.
88. I was embarassed.
89. I’ve let a butch woman get away with emotional and physical abuse I would never have tolerated from a man.
90. I attended a support group at a local women’s shelter to get the moral support I needed to get out of that relationship.
91. I thought I was different than all the other women in the room because I was gay and they were straight, but our stories ended up being exactly the same.
92. On two separate occasions I have violently pushed my female lovers away from me.
93. I used to think that men were made of iron, that I could say all sorts of mean things to them and they wouldn’t feel it.
94. The only time I’ve ever hit a man was during a scene.
95. I love to wrestle and win.
96. I love to wrestle and lose.
97. I love to dominate my lovers.
98. With Ace, I discovered exactly how sexy it is to hurt someone.
99. It’s only sexy if they’re into it too.
100. I like to say I love power exchange more than sadomasochism, but sometimes I wonder if that’s true.

No vacancy

It was just what I wanted: white walls, blue floaty curtains, bumpy white bedspread. And private. The cabins were small and close-set around a wide horseshoe of grass, but they’d been designed in such a way that you never had to worry about catching a glimpse through your neighbor’s window.

Which was good. Because the first thing I like to do whenever I check into a hotel room is to take all my clothes off and lay on the bed.

We’d decided to take our chances on finding a decent place to stay without a reservation. In late July on a sunny Saturday, that’s a real adventcha. And the farther up the Cape we went, the more likely it seemed that we would be sleeping in the car. “Nooooo vacanceeeeee,” we chanted to each other, again and again after every hopeful stop. But the driving and the blue sky and the beech pines and the glimpses of the sea — even the ebb and the flow of the Cape summer traffic — that was all part of the journey.

And sure enough, on a quiet stretch of Route 6A in Truro, we happened across a little cluster of cottages, set off from the road, newly built, decently priced. I’d been trying to convince Bran all summer to let me pay for a weekend away — he’s been job hunting since he finished his graduate degree in May, but I’m flush and it’s not nearly as much fun to spend a weekend at the shore by yourself. That weekend I finally managed it, and I have to tell you, there’s really nothing like pulling out the ol’ wallet so you can be the Vacation Daddy.

He opened and closed the cabinets in the tiny kitchen. I opened the windows, flicked the curtains closed, threw off my top, and sprawled across the bed. Blue fabric floated in the breeze, against the bare white walls, and there was the smell of the sea nearby. All I really wanted from the weekend.

“I thought you wanted to go to the beach before it got dark,” he said.

“I do. But we’ve been driving all day. I just want to lay down for a little bit.”

How did we get from me lazing on the bed half-dressed to him pushing his cock up against the fold of my ass cheeks? The usual way, I suppose. I’m sure there were kisses, lovely Bran kisses, and I probably nipped his earlobes, maybe ran my nails down his back to hear him gasp. But what I remember is my hands on the floor by the side of the bed, pushing up to keep my torso steady as he pulled my panties down and began to tongue my ass.

I know he made me beg him to fuck me up the ass, and I did, and I asked him, “am I a dirty anal slut?” He pushed himself up on one knee for a better angle, and he said, “Yes, you are a very good little anal slut,” and then he asked me if he could go deeper and I said yes, yes, please, and he was fucking me and it wasn’t long before he was coming inside of me, and I felt him jerk, and tremble, and shudder against my back.

And then we drove to Race Point beach to watch the sunset and then had dinner in P-town, and came back and sat on the front deck and looked at the stars. And in the morning I woke him… which is another story.

Dirty, sweaty sex

It was even hotter at home than it had been in the city. My apartment was an oven, and the cat’s water bowl was empty.

“Would you fill it up?” I asked, and leaned over the couch to open the window.

“Just a sec,” he said, and pushed up my skirt. His hands were on my ass, and then he was grinding against it, and I heard him gasp and felt him harden. He loves my ass. I love that he loves my ass. I pushed against him, and he pulled me to the side, slapping my cheeks. We were all tangled up, and hot, and I was moaning and my legs spread of their own accord and I reached around to kiss him.

“I thought about you a lot this weekend,” I said.

“Yeah?” he said, and now he was spanking me between my legs, right between my legs, through my panties, which drives me wild.

“Yes,” I said. “All the way there, and–” I caught my breath as his hand came down, rotating my hips, squirming, moaning. “–and — last — night in bed. And — on the bus– ride– back–”

I was close to coming. So soon. He could tell. He stopped, got up, walked away. I sat on the couch, gasping, dizzy, excited. It was the same spot where I’d pushed him down for our first kiss five months ago.

He picked up the cat’s water bowl and went into the kitchen. “Go to your room,” he said.

I went. There were clothes on the bed, left over from packing. I threw them on the floor by the closet, closed the blinds, turned on the fan. Smoothed the cover. Turned on the lamp by the bed, turned off the overheard light. I heard him moving in the other room. I stood there, awkward. I wanted to take my clothes off, get on my knees. But more than anything, I wanted him to tell me what to do.

He emerged from the gloom into the light of the bedroom. He was naked, his body familiar to me, strong, mine.

“What do you want me to do?” I said, one foot behind the other, still in my clothes.

“What do you want to do?” he said.

I pinched his right nipple, hard, and he gasped. I raked my fingers down his back, and he moaned. We were kissing each other, rough, struggling, he was pulling my skirt up again, grabbing me to him, grinding his cock against me. I untied my halter, pulled down the black fabric very slowly, backing away from him. He held my breasts in his hands, bent to kiss them. I turned around, pulled off my top, and knelt before him. I wanted him to see my submission, see it as beautiful as I see it in others–in him.

This all happened on Sunday night and I’ve had days to forget. The heat of the encounter no longer rises with the memories. But I still remember how slick we were with mingled sweat. I remember that I came, and came again, from his mouth and his tongue and his fingers and his cock. “Do you like it when I pay attention to your pussy?” he asked. And what could I do but gasp and moan and come again. He stayed hard for what seemed like hours. At one point, he told me to hold my legs open and made me scream the way I usually only scream when I’m alone in bed with a vibrator (I scream in a different way when we’re fucking). Once, as I was writhing underneath him, he said, “I love to watch your face while I fuck you,” and I became aware of what I must look like, blushing, in beautiful agony.

Once, he told me to come all over his cock, to make it wet with my come, and I did, right then, on command. I’d pushed my pelvis off the bed to meet his cock as he kneeled, and he must have cupped his hand underneath me to catch the gushing, because the next thing I knew he was dripping it on my stomach. My orgasms so different than his, and yet not.

Later, with my finger wriggling up his ass and his cock in my mouth, he penetrated me with his fingers in both places at once. I remember how hungry I was for him.

I hadn’t bothered with a glove and I ran to the bathroom to wash off my finger. “Wait here,” I said, but he didn’t wait. He followed me in, put his hands on my hips as I bent over the sink and rubbed his hard-on against my cheeks. I turned around, knelt down, and took him into my mouth, as far as I could, lips at the base of his cock. I slipped my finger back inside him, wriggling, feeling for the little pea-shape.

“This is so dirty,” he said. And I agreed. Dirty sex is a good thing, on that we both agree. Not all the time, but sometimes. A lot of the time.

I pulled his cock out of my mouth long enough to say “You’re fucking my mouth and I’m fucking your ass. Who’s in charge here?”

Later, he bent me over the sink again and licked my little rosebud, forced his tongue inside. “You’re so open,” he said. And I was. It’s hard to predict whether I’m actually going to enjoy buttsex before it happens, no matter how much warming up is involved, but I seemed plenty ready for it that night. He lubed up the condom and my ass and he was sliding in, and it was wonderful. But we’re just close enough in height that sex standing up doesn’t quite work, even with me bending over all the way. So he pulled out. And the poor boy was tired by then, needed to rest.

Funny thing about sex, and orgasm: it never feels like “successful” sex until both of us come. Or, in my case, until I’ve come plenty of times. But if you fixate on the orgasm, you don’t have time to enjoy all the fun of sex: the skin on skin contact, the heat, the … the everything. The journey. Why hurry toward the destination? I always tell him I don’t care if he comes or not, just that he enjoy himself. And when it takes him a while, really, who am I to complain? But I do like it to happen. I like to see him lose control. And I wanted him to come on my face. That’s the sort of dirty-sex mood I was in.

We lay there, side by side, in the heat, with sweat coating our bodies, and said exhausted things to each other. I rested my head at the junction of his shoulder and his arm, then pulled back to look up at the ceiling. He reached over toward my coochie, groping idly.

“She’s sleeping,” I said. But didn’t stop him. And he moved his fingers over the folds, and in spite of myself I began to move with his fingers. Opened my legs, felt my lips growing slick, and we were back to it.

Later, he was standing next to the bed, working his cock while I said nasty things to him and ran my tongue around his balls. And then he was coming, a lot, and I bent my head right into the line of fire. He pulled back, half crouched, muscles tensed. I pulled him back to the bed, and he resisted at first. “I’m covered with it,” he said.

“The sheets are already stained with mine. I’m going to have to change them anyway,” I reminded him, and pulled him down beside me, pulled him close to me. Most times, I want that afterward, the holding. His jism was still all around my mouth, and he looked at me and laughed, and I laughed too. It’s such a silly thing to do, really, letting a man come on your face. It’s meant to be degrading, I suppose. I usually see it that way, in all the porn videos. But it’s intimate too, and something I’ll do because… because I want to, because I’ll do it for someone I know cares about me. Because it makes us closer. Because I can.

Fun with chains

He was wearing the collar I bought him at the pet store, the one with the chain lead. I’d decided on chain at the last minute instead of leather. I hadn’t realized at the time how good the slick metal links would feel against the lips of my cunt, against my swollen clit as we played.

This time, I put the collar on him and I yanked on the lead as he fucked me from above. We were on the opposite side of the bed because the frame is beginning to give way, and I could feel it moving below me even as he moved above me. The lovely frisson of him inside me, the friction, the steady rhythm, not clenching but feeling very good, feeling on my way to somewhere, and him on his way to somewhere too, the both of us traveling there together.

And then I wanted to fuck him from above. “Get on your back,” I said, with him still above me, inside me. He shook his head, bad boy (bad dog — oh to say it out loud). Head tilted to the side, not obeying. So I put on my big girl voice, my commanding voice, and I pushed him, and eventually he was on his back and I had one leg on the floor and one knee beside him and then I was riding the pony.

I love to ride the pony.

So we did that for a while, and I probably came again. I probably came when we were in missionary too. He often asks me after the fact how many times I’ve come but I don’t really keep track anymore. I just know that if it’s not more than three times I feel cheated. And so I fucked him from above for a while. And he enjoyed it too, you can tell because he makes those noises, and plus I could reach his nipples better from that angle, and he does have such sensitive nipples. Sometimes I’m cruel with them, but I think in this instance I was nice.

And then I told him to fuck my ass.

I was in a hurry for some reason that afternoon — the whole thing was hurried. And you really can’t hurry when it comes to assfucking. You can get away with it with other kinds of sex, although it’s really a shame, like bolting sushi instead of savoring it. But with assfucking you really have to go slow, ease into it. He’s such a good lover, he was doing all the right things: dropping a gob of spit on my little hole (I know, I know, the first time I saw this in a video I was grossed out, but the dirtiness and the immediately of using one’s own lubricant does have a certain appeal), circling it with his tongue, loving my cheeks with his hands, forcing the tip of his tongue inside.

And then he did something completely unexpected, something incredibly hot. He took the chain lead dangling from his collar and inserted it, link by link, into my hot, wet cunt. Pushed it in, pulled it out a bit, pushed it in a bit more. I groaned and pushed against his fingers. He must have gotten almost the whole length of it in there before he forced the head of his cock against my ass and pushed…

Because I was rushing, I hadn’t relaxed properly, and it hurt. “Ow, ow,” I said, and had him pull out, and scrambled off the bed — only to find that my cunt was still filled with the chain of his lead. I pulled it out unceremoniously and wobbled to the bathroom, where I sat with my offended sphincter (blessedly unproductive).

Later, back in the bed, he told me he was thinking about me dragging him around by the chain buried in my cunt. So together we slipped it back inside of me and for one of the few times in my life I experienced the advantage of my thick, generous thighs. I was able to jerk him around by the collar with my legs closed, the chain buried inside me.

The scenario is rife with symbolism. It was also fucking hot.