Posts tagged ‘relationships’

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.

September 16, 2008 at 9:10 pm 9 comments

Truth, love, beauty

The mind-blowing orgasms continue apace. And I’m in love. I am loved – by friends, family, and a wonderful man. By the Goddess.

Truth and beauty: those are trickier right now. Beauty is still there.

Truth is subject to perspective. But I did something I’ve always had tremendous trouble doing yesterday. I spoke my truth. My emotional truth. Bran makes it easy. Well, no, not easy. But Bran doesn’t negate my truth. He doesn’t try to talk me out of it. He just offers his perspective.

After crying and talking for about half an hour, just as things had settled down, I blurted out something I’ve been thinking of and pushing away for months.

“I wish you told me you loved me more.”

He looked pained. It was a tough week for him — he bears up under the pressure, but I could see the strain. It was all I could do not to apologize for having wants and needs. God/dess knows it didn’t seem like a good idea to have them when I was a little girl.

But I didn’t.

And I know he loves me.

I feel loved. In all sorts of ways.

September 15, 2008 at 12:18 am Leave a comment

On race and sex and skin types

I haven’t known where to start with all of this. So I guess I’ll just start in the middle. Actually, let’s start by talking about race. I met a woman on Craigslist a while ago. She sounded pretty awesome via email and her photo was promising, but in person she was just a little… weird. When did gainful employment become a turn-on for me? Probably around the same time that I got my own gainful employment. Probably because I realized it means a person has a certain groundedness, a sense of responsibility. I envy people who have traveled all over the world, but I’ve never been able to wrap my head around how they just pick up and leave. I mean, who pays the rent on their home when they’re gallivanting all over the world? It’s a quality I admire, but I’m not so sure I want it to be in my life.

How this relates to race: this woman (sexily butch, but unsexily fat and not in a curvy/delicious sort of way) was raised in Northern New England totally surrounded by other white people. A couple of things she said to me clearly indicated racism. Not that “I hate black people” kind of racism, but the “black people are weird and alien and we are better because we’re white” kind of racism. New England specializes in undercover racism. It drives me insane.

I consider myself somewhat fortunate to have been raised in a more integrated sort of setup. I mean, it was still painful. Segregation still existed in the town where I spent most of my childhood. But I spanned the divide between the people of color who (mostly) lived in the projects and the white kids who (mostly) lived in places that had grass and trees that didn’t look stunted from living in little blocks of dirt between concrete. We moved to the projects when I was about five years old. Long story, maybe I’ll tell it some day, but the upshot is that my dad was a fucking asshole and we moved three thousand miles to get away from him and his grabby parents. We stayed with my Mom’s aunt for a while in a leafy, blue-collar suburb and then Mom got semi-subsidized housing in a high-rise downtown.

My best friend in MLK Towers was a girl whose name is definitely not Rita Calderone. She was mixed-race. I never really had much of a concept of that fact, or that her last name indicated either Spanish or Latino heritage. She was just Rita. We used to play in the hallway together, and in her parents’ room. We found a dirty book that belonged to her mother and read all the salacious passages together. We played a game called “R” (for rape, I think) where one of us would abduct the other and tie her up in the bedroom, and then go out, the the other would try to escape and get caught and dragged back. We knew something was supposed to happen in the bed, but we didn’t know exactly what. I think Rita must have witnessed some sort of bed-grappling in that tiny apartment, because when it was her turn to abduct me she blew me away with all the writhing and moaning and hair-pulling on top of me. Me, I think I mostly lay on her and wiggled around a little bit.

Later, a black boy and I sniffed around each other a bit. He was really cute, but it didn’t go very far, because we were both very aware of the race barrier. See, not only was I a white girl, I was a white girl who wasn’t really tough enough for the PJ’s. They called me a Momma’s girl because I cared about things like books and my clarinet lessons and not about hanging out in the playground and learning the latest dance moves. Later, it meant that I went to college and Rita had a baby while she was in her teens.

I didn’t really have a concept that I enjoyed privileged status because of my race. That’s probably because I was so lonely and alienated and sad and traumatized. White, suburban kids were mean to me because I didn’t have the right jeans, and the kids in the PJs were mean to me because… well, see above.

It wasn’t until college that I really got white privilege. And it was because of my black girlfriend and her black friends. Of course, the black kids at my small, liberal-arts college weren’t much like the black and Latino kids in the Towers. They were “the talented tenth,” the result of Nixon’s affirmative action program. You know, the one that made some black people rich instead of making all poor people not starving. But still, I got it. And I also experienced the joys of sexing up a black person. I realize that this might sound racist, but there really are physical differences between white people and black people. And — duh! — it has to do with the skin. The black men and women I slept with had this lovely, smooth, sort of extra-impermeable quality to their skin. I loved it. In all other aspects, they were exactly the same. The men didn’t all have ten-inch cocks. The women didn’t all have huge, high bootys. Oh, wait, yes they did. And that was okay with me.

So when this white butch from New Hampster made these not-so-subtly racist comments, I felt simultaneously pissed off and sorry for her. She just didn’t know what she was missing.

January 16, 2008 at 12:31 pm Leave a comment

The search for truth, love, beauty, and mind-blowing orgasms

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