I’m moving my ass to a self-hosted site. You can find me at sweetspiced.com from now on! Rock on. I hope to heck everyone follows me on over. Update your readers and such! And thank you for all your visits and reading of posts. I look forward to many more!
So I’ve let everyone know where I come from. I’ve said I like Queer As Folk, I’ve said I consider myself a pansexual, I’ve said I have no experience (oh and btw I’m not young anymore). So explain some things to me please. Is it really that huge a deal for someone who likes women to also like men? Being bisexual seems like a huge taboo thing to the Gay/Lesbian community. (Which strikes me as odd because GLBT kind of includes bisexual people too yes?)
Now – mind you I’m not “immersed” in the culture. So I’m kind of taking what I’m seeing in QAF with a grain of salt but it’s not actually refuting things I’ve heard in other places. That whether you’re a gay male or a lesbian woman – switching to the other team is at the least met with a “eww ick” face, at worst met with utter disdain and disgust. I mean really – in a culture that’s supposed to be accepting of everyone, a culture that’s been trampled on by idiotic phobic people – is there room to basically cut people out of your community for liking “that”?
I get not being interested – I mean my posts of male parts squicks out several of my tumblr followers. That’s okay. But they’re not going to look down on me because I like them – are they? See that is part of the issue for me – I’ve always liked guys. I’m not going to stop that part of me – but now, I’m attracted to certain female-bodied individuals. Am I going to be told that I’m a fake, or other derogatory terms because I still like guys? It kind of makes me nervous to enter in fully to this new community. And I don’t like that.
Back to QAF and the whole reason I brought them up: there’s a lesbian couple (and I love these two) who have been together for a while, with their own dramas going on. Nothing unusual I’d think for a couple, and I can’t imagine how they could have been handled better (more on that later) but now a man has been introduced. As a writer, I could see where it was going from the beginning. He’s obviously a narcissistic womanizer who has never met a women he can’t get in to bed. Enter Lindsey, whom he knows is a lesbian and is married with a pregnant wife. Can we say CHALLENGE? The sparks were flying from the beginning.
Now, in my head – the biggest problem is that stupid Lindsay should have backed out early on because it was obvious that it could be trouble. But I was thinking – affair. Cheating on wife. That’s where I was going. Maybe that’s just my “straight” mentality. I didn’t care if she slept with a guy or a girl; it was the fact that she was cheating. Even when they were in bed BEFORE she cheated, I knew where her mind was at. And that, well, that was already cheating. (Note, cheating because there had been no open-communication on the subject.)
But that wasn’t the issue for Melanie. No, she was upset that Lindsey slept with a MAN. She can’t call herself a Lesbian now. Mind you, I wanted to slap Lindsay. Hello, you don’t sleep with someone to affirm that you’re making the right decision in being a lesbian. Dumb Bitch. So in that, I totally agree with Melanie. But I think she was meaning more that she screwed up, she’d been flattered and was sorry but she knew what was important and that was her family, her wife. The same things that go through the mind of anyone who cheats and regrets it. But again, I’m seeing it through a different lens.
Then I found Afterellen’s take on it. And I must say that I was a little upset when they said – well if it had been written by a lesbian team of writers, like on the L word, then it would have been okay. I thought actually it was handled well, but yeah cue in the “straight” music. I’m also of the mindset that (maybe this is why I’m pansexual?) everyone is equal – no matter if they’re gay, straight, young, old, fat, thin, black, white, or something in between and that I could be attracted to any of the above.
I suppose where I’m going with this is that shouldn’t love be about all the parts you are? Lindsey screwed up and didn’t voice anything. But that didn’t happen because she was a lesbian. It could have happened to me, or to any straight couple or gay couple or poly group. The biggest issue for the characters though (and from what Afterellen said – the community) was the stepping over the line and mixing it up sexually – playing both sides of the field.
So this scares me a bit. I want to be able to go after that butch that I like – to be able to be part of a community that accepts me. But I want them to accept all of me. Not look down on me when I’m walking holding hands with a female-bodied person because I look at a male-bodied person who I find attractive (with of course my partner’s knowledge and acceptance before hand). Or if they see me with one. I thought that would only happen in the straight world. Now I’ve got to worry it’s going to happen on the other side too? So help me out here – clue me in. Where are the pitfalls of this new path I’m traveling? Do you agree or disagree with them?
It came to my attention that I have not been as clear as I could. Now there are a great many people who I twittered with that don’t read the blog, but I thought I was pretty open on twitter. But there lies the downfall of twitter: we can’t live in someone else’s timeline 24/7. Especially if they talk a lot – not that I did – really! So I thought I’d write a post that breaks it down a little.
I can’t make up my mind. Well some people would say that. Or maybe they’d say I want my cake and cupcakes too. And honestly, since all my thoughts on this subject are just that – thoughts – there’s no experience backing them up, then maybe you can call me a fake. But I think there’s enough validity in what’s in a person’s mind being the impetus for what goes in their heart and actions, that I’m going to claim this for me. I am a kinky switch, who likes it rough but is not into pain, who loves the exchange of power, who loves cock and loves boobs, who is looking for a Poly(amorous) relationship.
Now does this mean when reality hits it will be easy because I know what I want? Hell no. Label wise I say I’m pansexual, switch and poly. Because it really is about the individual. I tend to fall for words and actions. Now that’s not to say the physical doesn’t draw me. I must admit a certain fondness for butches and bad boys. Huh maybe those are just two of the same. Anyway – the physical is important, but really less than people realize. At least for me (I’ve been on the other end of some people’s idea of what they do NOT want so).
I may post hot six-packs and sexy butches like Shane on my tumblr but you’ll have to trust me when I say that it’s the person. I could give examples but then if they read this blog I’d have to explain why I was giving them as examples of what most people aren’t interested in. Not going there. And I’ve had recent conversations where I didn’t explain this well. Me saying I’m not attracted isn’t about I don’t like you physically. It means there’s that little piece that didn’t click, even though we clicked in all other ways.
There’s a lot I can’t talk about – because I don’t know what will happen when I get to that situation – but there’s a lot I’m sure of. I’m sure that with some people the growly me comes out. The part that wants to take, to bite, to hold them in my control. This could be me pegging someone, this could be me choosing to please myself with their body. However *I* see fit. But other people make me feel very soft and vulnerable. Make me feel the need to please and bend to their will; the need to put what they want first and to be used by them.
I have always been into the cock – 95% of my experience has been with males. And yes, I love them. They will always be part of what I want. But I’ve expanded that out to include the non-bio cock. Especially when connected to a sexy butch. Although that doesn’t preclude the femmes. I’m just not experienced and have gone through much of my life uncertain of how far I’d go for many reasons I’ve stated before this post. But I’d say I have had a crush – even attempted the beginning of a relationship, with another girl. It’s the person as a whole that makes me hungry, makes me feel.
As for poly. That is rough. Especially with some things I’ve been going through. Well even the worst of situations let you learn more about yourself. I have learned a lot, I know there will be some jealousy depending on who my partner’s other partner is. But I also know that jealousy just means I’m not getting what I need from MY partner. And I need to ask for it. If I don’t get it, I need to ask again, but be prepared to walk away. There’s a lot more to it, but I still can’t see any way but poly. I do fall in love. And at this point I can’t see myself loving just one person because there are so many others that I connect to and so many facets of who I am and what I need.
So, I want it all. Or rather I can’t make up my mind. Depends on how you look at it. I never know what’s going to make me go down the path of lust/love/crush. I never know what’s going to make me click with someone as a friend. But I’m letting myself be open to all the possibilities. At the same time I’m keeping in mind what I can give – because it’s a two way street. I have to remember that I’m meeting someone else’s needs and be sensitive to that. We all have love to give and enough to spill over and over, but can we do justice to that many people. There are limits and a wise person knows (or is willing to learn and admit mistakes) just how far they can go. I’m lucky to have several wise people in my life who I can go to for advice. Thank you for that.
HNT Courtesy of Margaret at They Belong to Us
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~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~
Start Without Me – It’s for when one of us is too tired, or not in the mood, or out of town, or the other of us is too horny to wait. But now, here, right in front of me, you’re touching yourself, playing yourself, and it is the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Wicked Tongues – There are so many different ways that a mouth can connect themselves with my cunt. And so many partners, each with their own way of connecting with me.
“Vanilla” Bigotry – I effectively retired my personal usage of the word “vanilla” when one of these sick fucks told me that he hated that term. He said it was condescending, and the implication that kinky people have any idea what goes on in other people’s bedrooms just because they aren’t fucking around in a dungeon was ridiculous.
~ e[lust] Editress ~
Audible – More hushed giggles, more kissing sounds. A gasp followed immediately by a quiet, restrained moan. I had to make up the images in my head, try to picture what caused that gasp, who’s mouth was on what body part. Or was it even a mouth?
~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~
Swing Shift Volume 33- We’re “Sexually Festive!” – What I do know is that I love Veronica now more than ever, that we choose our extra-marital partners with care and respect, and never fail to remember that our primary relationship is the most important one. If we’re considered sluts or promiscuous by others, so what?
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!
Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor
Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships
Anal Sex for Beginners
Choosing the right partner in poly relationships
Controlling or Petty?
Dating and Fucking
In response to: Gang Bang Curiosity
Status Uterus Orgasmus
Therapy – Two Years
The Lost Art of the Hand Job
Time and Punishment: Some dynamics of male chastity in marriage
We Don’t Need No Education?
You Make My Tummy Funny
Kink & Fetish
Another Friday Story Time
BDSM — Abuse and Consent
Creating Space in Kink
I am in trouble
Method: Episode Two
Sex And Sadness
The Hands of a Goddess
What About the Children
Are You Watching Me? (3rd and Final Part)
An Afternoon Delight
Back To My Old Tricks
Climax At Midnight #6
controlling the beast
Group Post: “The Day….”
No Sex: Need Sleep
Pack It Up…Pack It In
Solo Session with B
The Good Kind of Wake-up Call
That Kind Of Girl…Who Gets Off In A Crowded Bar
The Golden Goddess
The realest thing
Wicked Wednesday: Date Night
I was used to getting up early so the sun hadn’t reached the horizon when I slipped out of bed to get breakfast started. I figured you’d still be asleep; even for a farmer I was an early bird. Some mornings I sat on the porch where I kept the pottery wheel and messed around with clay and watched the sunrise. I usually did my best work then.
No time for that today; playing with clay always required a long and hot shower to remove. And I had a guest who would be wanting breakfast. The floor was a bit cold against my feet so I slipped on some socks before heading to the kitchen.
I mulled over what I wanted to fix for breakfast. You weren’t little and probably had a big appetite. You were solidly built and tall; plus you were in an occupation that meant a heavy work load. So gravy and biscuits; eggs and bacon. Would pancakes be too much? Maybe some muffins; I had some from a batch I’d made a few days ago. No, I’d taken those to a neighbor who was sick.
I unlocked the door and opened it to look out at the sun beginning it’s climb. I should still have a little bit of time to get this going. I set the sausage on to cook for the gravy and got the biscuits started. I was reaching up on tiptoe to grab a bowl when I heard a sound behind me. My fingers had just grasped the edge it and I felt it falling as I turned in surprise.
I stumbled into you as you reached up to right the bowl. There was that quirk of a smile again. I stepped back and brushed my hands down the front of my night shirt. I closed my eyes as I realized I’d just wiped flour handprints all down the front. I loved looking like an idiot. A glance down and I remembered I was wearing my ugliest sweats too. Way to impress.
“You should probably use a stool,” you said as you handed me the bowl. “A short thing like you, you really should have the cupboards adjusted so you can reach them.
I could feel heat on my cheeks. “I always forget the stool,” I said as I brushed my hair back from my face. “And, I’m not that short. You’re just too tall.” Embarrassment always brought out the snark in me. I quickly took the bowl and moved to the counter, hiding from you. “I didn’t think you’d be in this early; I’ll get the eggs started and go change.”
I looked up as you moved toward the sink, looking back over your shoulder as if to ask permission. I nodded a bit brusquely and went back to the bowl, whipping the eggs hard enough they threatened to splash out. “No need to change on my account,” you said. I sneaked a peek over my shoulder as you finished drying off your hands and caught you watching me. “I really like the handprint on the seat of your sweats,” came the comment with a wry twist of the lips.
I quickly checked and felt the heat rise again. There, perfectly outlined, was a white palm print on my ass. Fuck. Way to show off how big it is. And what the hell was I doing worrying about it?
I turned back to whipping the eggs, examining the things I was feeling. Was I really flirting with you? I’d never been dishonest with myself before and I had to accept that I was very much attracted to you. It was odd, I felt more like a girl now, standing with you in my kitchen, than I ever had before. I swallowed, swallowing my fears down too.
“If they bother you that much, I can always take them off,” I said with a twist of the eyebrow. Take that. Damned if I’d take this like a sissy. If I was going to be attracted to a woman for the first time, I wasn’t going to run from it. All you could do was say no. All I could do was fail miserably. Crap.
“You know,” you said as you stilled my hand. “If you whip those any more, we’ll have meringue. Not eggs.” You took the bowl and dumped the eggs into the pan, expertly scrambling them. “You can leave the sweats on. Wouldn’t want you to catch cold. And I think the biscuits are burning.”
I grabbed a potholder and snatched open the oven. Not burned yet, but it was close. “Hope you like them a bit past golden brown.” My head was spinning and I had no idea where this was going but damned if I wasn’t already enjoying the ride. “Those eggs almost done?” I dished out the biscuits, covering them with gravy and setting our places at the table as you brought your pan to the table to serve the eggs. “There’s some bacon in the microwave keeping warm.”
We sat down together, the silence much more comfortable, the tension still electric but now friendly. There was time to figure out what to do next. You seemed quite happy without needing words, although I was longing to draw you out into conversation. I wonder if you’d always be a quiet man – wait what should I use. Man, or woman or was it something else entirely. I felt a bit flummoxed – none of this was familiar. Whenever I stopped to think, I felt awash in confusion. Then I looked up and saw the way you looked at me. Whatever. Who said I couldn’t figure it out as we went along.
“Please tell me I’m not the only one in this,” I said with a hint of the desperation I was feeling. I watched you finish the bite of biscuit, your eyes holding mine.
“This is good gravy,” you said. “You’ll have to teach me to make it. Then I can serve your breakfast in bed.” Deliberately you took another bite, then a swallow of coffee. “I’ve always said a woman needs to be pampered once in a while.”
I ate slowly, going through the motions but my attention was focused on you. You were lethal – truly lethal. I bet you had women falling at your feet the second you opened your mouth. Smooth slow molasses, that’s what you were. The slight drawl, the quirk of the lips, the hint of devil in your eyes. I was ready to melt in a puddle at your feet. No wonder you didn’t speak much. You didn’t need many words to get your point across.
“I can teach you how to make gravy. It’s not hard.” I couldn’t stop the smile from sliding across my lips. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had breakfast in bed. I’ll look forward to it.” I stood and reached for your plate but you shook your head and followed me to the sink. I was impressed that you’d cleared your place. A gentleman through and through evidently. “You still need to get to Camden. Let me wash these up and then I’ll get dressed. The rain has stopped so it will be an easy drive.”
“I’ll get my things then. I’ll return these to you on Saturday,” you said as you moved toward the door.
“Saturday,” I asked over the water. “What’s on Saturday?”
“A picnic,” you said. “And a tour of the area. I’ll bring the food, you can be my guide.” The screen door shut behind you on the last words. You were already on your way to the barn, your quick confident stride eating up the distance. I caught the faint sound of a whistled tune as I headed up to my room to change. I might need to buy me a dress. Or at least some dressier jeans.
Be forewarned – this is a rant. You may stop reading right now. But writing helps me order my thoughts.
I don’t even know where to start – I’m still fuming that much. I can totally understand changing your mind. I may not like it, but I get it. I’ve had it happen to me many times (and so have many others) – things click on both sides then something happens and the other person finds someone they are MORE interest in, or whatever. Fine.
But to totally fucking dismiss every moment as if it was nothing. As if it never happened. To basically flip a bitch and start back at the beginning. Fuck that. If you want to back off and just be friends, grow the balls and say so. Don’t fucking make it sound like hey I like you as a friend and we’ll see if something develops. W. T. F. Whatever.
You know what really makes me mad. I’ve backed off several times – trying to forget that I have feelings for you; trying to get to a point where I can just be friends. But we talked and you didn’t want that. I had longs talks with a friend, trying to figure out how to deal with you. With what you are, what you want, and whether I can get what I want from you. I get to a point where I’m okay – not super happy with some things in your life, but I can deal. Hell I completely avoided speaking to you until I had my head straight.
I figured if you didn’t communicate with me, then it was over and no sweat. But you did. And when I knew that I was okay with things (and btw, I was trying to just be a chickenshit and avoid you permanently – figured you’d get the hint) I talked to you. I worked through all my fears and doubts and concerns in my head because you had been willing to make the effort to work things through. You’d contacted me when I figured you’d just never bother contacting me again. Because it was way too damn dishonest to just not speak. And then you do this. You had the fucking nerve to act as if we’d just met. Fuck you. FUCK you. Seriously.
I feel betrayed. But hell, I should thank you. I’ve learned a lot. And you know what – you were right. I was good for you. You need someone who won’t put up with your bullshit. I swear sometimes the only person you see is yourself. You are like a kid in a candy store and you’re always out for the next piece of candy. Fuck.
Fine. Rant over. I guess I should have known better to fall for it. I kept thinking that anyone willing to work that hard must be sincere. I was wrong. Shit.
I leaned against the doorjam and watched you puttering around the kitchen. You were wearing my favorite flannel shirt and it made me hunger to touch you. I slipped in quietly, coming up behind you and sliding my hands under your shirt. I loved to feel your warm skin against my fingertips; even more I loved feeling my way up until my hands could cup your breasts. I sighed happily, letting my head fall against your shoulder. For the moment just touching was enough; being close to you and smelling you.
As I snuggled close I felt the skin under my hands tighten, the nipple harden. A tease that reminded me I wanted more from you. I stood on my tiptoes to run my tongue along your neck as I began to squeeze your breasts. Even as I let me teeth clamp lightly on your earlobe my mind was wandering to the instant when it would be your nipple against my lips. I rubbed against you, my skin hot and itching under my clothes. The need to be skin to skin was building quickly.