Red Light Dharma

Changes in Behavior, but not Labels

2011-10-07T23:09:00.003-04:00

Really life continues to spin in ways I would have never imagined.

A huge change is that I've been "seeing" a guy, as in a CIS boy. It's been over twenty years since I have had sex with a guy. Seriously. Over the years, in theory I thought, sure, I could do that again. But then I would really start to imagine it and, well frankly I would get turned off. I mean, not having to deal with balls all these years has been awesome. Getting to play with breasts? Fabulous beyond belief. And the loveliness that is the cunt. So, yeah, not into playing with boys except My boy, and there's not that kind of sex, just bdsm play.

But then I met him, or rather got to know him since I had met him a few times here and there. It crept up on me suddenly. I let him set the pace because he is so much younger and this is not the type of power play I'm into. For goddess sake, for all I knew, he was a virgin (thank goddesses without husbands, that was NOT the case).

One thing that has been unusual is that it didn't feel as foreign a landscape; not like going home either. However it did feel like a whole new playground in a way, everything that is quintessentially male about him is amusing, cause for giggles and exploration. For all my tricks, experiences and badassedness, there were, maybe still are, ways that I feel like a beginner all over again. Which is humbling, playful, and a bit compelling. For quite some time I would play with his cock, not during sex and just experience the texture, the flexibility, laugh when it moved on it's own. Silicone dicks just don't do those things. Plus, he's not circumcised; never had one of those, at least not that I can recall. That foreskin adds a whole other layer (as it were) of things to explore and toy with. Kind of a cool thing to finally experience that. There is still a learning curve for me in trying to determine what works on a cock. At this point I know the basic plus some (really quite a bit) when it comes to exploring a cunt, but I feel like I need to do some reading, or take a workshop (me!? in a sex workshop? I used to teach them, I still could, as long as it didn't include much about cocks and prostrates). It doesn't help that my guy is a tad on the quiet side. He's not very vocal during sex, very intense but doesn't say much, nor outside the carnal activities when it comes to talking about what he likes, or would like to try. Some things come easier for him to talk about - but techniques with his cock? He's rather quiet, though clearly states that he's happy with my skill set.

So after using lesbian and more recently queer, I find myself looking straight in a new way to the world. I have never passed for a dyke, except when walking with my sweeties, who have all been on the butch end of the spectrum. But now, I really, really look straight. But I'm not. In fact I don't feel particularly different either. I don't feel bi - despite some "friends" insisting on foisting that label on me. I still feel queer, still desire women, oh hell I miss being sexual with women. Sometimes a lot. Several months ago I had a luscious kiss with this chick I know, one I've been attracted to, and just that little bit of lip action stirred something, woke an urge. Nothing I have to act on right this minute, but it was a reminder of what I didn't have going on. He and I have talked a little about this; he shared his fear that there was something he couldn't offer me, that he was lacking. It was so sweet, no pretense about being male as the ultimate; it felt like truly respecting an elemental part of who I am, about my desire.

Only now is it beginning to chafe a bit, being more invisible than I have been in a very long time. It reminds me of when I first came out and no one saw me; finding women to take me seriously as lesbian was a struggle; having to out myself, hoping I wouldn't be mocked because of my hair, make up, and soft, flowing clothes. Yes, it's a different world in many ways now, and there isn't a lot of surprise when people learn I have spent most of my dating life with women (once in a while there is surprise I'm sleeping with a guy), but I don't want to be seen as a woman who has "dabbled" with other women, I don't want to be labeled straight because it's how things look. At the same time I don't want to feel like I need to explain my history in order for people to see me, well as me. I am still trying to figure that part out. Yes, yes, it doesn't really matter in a way, people will learn about me, as they get to know me, blah blah blah.

But you know what? It does matter. In some way that is hard to define, I want to be seen completely. I want people to know I don't usually sleep with men, that never before have I dated someone younger, that I don't do patterns, that I am not what I look like. I am what I am inside, I am my identity - all that's visible and perhaps even more, what is invisible.

Scents of death and love

2011-02-27T18:42:00.002-05:00

It struck on our second time together that her breath smelled like death. I am not sure why, even more I have no idea when it stopped smelling like that to me.

The first time we met in person we both traveled to Vegas to consummate the heated conversations being enjoyed, and sometimes endured, over the ethers of the internet. Somehow I did not notice it then, perhaps the smells of the casinos, the rich food along with the convergence of nerves and passion dulled my senses. That weekend was like nothing I had experienced because I had never fallen in love over electronic media before; in fact I had until then I scoffed at such notions. In the excitement to please me, she had purchased a harness and a dildo or two - things she had never bothered with before. The toys were nice but her being unable to keep her hands off of me was much more compelling than fabric and silicone, though they were nice. The entire weekend there was a hum running through my body, like the buzzing of fluorescent lights - annoying, compelling, and a bit scary. During our time together I had this sense that all was an illusion, that she would disappear after creating all this emotion in me, that somehow I would be left bereft.

Six weeks later she came to California where we caroused around the hotel room like drunken college students who had just discovered they could have sex without sneaking around. And that's where it hit me, every time we kissed (which was frequently and with wild abandon) her mouth tasted like death in mine. I thought perhaps it was because she smoked cigarettes, a flaw I had decided to overlook. But I had kissed other smokers and not had the taste of mortality rolling around my tongue.

As I said I don't know when I stopped smelling it, or if something changed in her. What I do know is that I reflected on that memory our entire relationship and what it could have meant. Given the hells I descended into during our time together, it was hard not to see it as foreshadowing. Being with her ended my other long term relationship because in time I realized that there were irreconcilable issues in it and though I was tempted to end both, I chose to pursue the new relationship. Being with her I drifted into dire poverty which resulted in a move to a red state where I never had any desire to live.

In the end, leaving her was my phoenix moment, rising from the ashes of constriction, isolation, and reuniting with myself. Somewhere that death scent became the pathway of my rebirth.

So much better than what I wrote!

2010-07-06T12:13:00.002-04:00

Many moons ago I write a crappy essay on this topic. I never published it here because I knew it was lacking. Now I find a lovely, bright, clear piece that I am happy to link here!

What's Sex, over at Scarleteen (a site I wish I was bright enough to work for!)

2010-06-25T20:21:00.001-04:00

You Scored as Switch

(((Note: This quiz is not totally comprehensive because of the length such a quiz would be. I kept it sex-based because I felt that psychological profiles and motivations were too complicated and vary too greatly among people that practice BDSM.))) You know what you want but it has nothing to do with your own role in the bedroom. You have the ability to be flexible in that area which can be useful for exploring you sexuality with your partner.

Switch

93%

Sadist

79%

Dominant

71%

Experimental

68%

Bondage

57%

Exhibitionist / Voyeur

50%

Submissive

32%

Masochist

29%

Degradation Lover

25%

Vanilla

11%

Cherished

2010-05-20T17:53:00.002-04:00

The word that comes to mind the most, now that I have spent years considering the draw of the “daddy/girl” dynamic, is cherished. It is the thing I most missed with my biological father, with both my parents really. Other women who talk with great affection about their fathers seem to give off this energy that their fathers’ really cared for them, about them, were happy to be their father. It is that encompassing, emotional, psychological cloak that acts as a sword, as a veil, as the soothing hug always available as one moves through life that I miss.

For years, decades now, the sexual nature of father/daughter fantasies have been present, have worked to turn me on, I’ve acted out variations of seductions in my head, with a partner, reference it using words to evoke some deep-seated erotic space in my head. Written stories of this theme have been a guarantee to taking me over the edge during one handed reading.

Quite a while ago I acted out scenarios for the first time with a lover. Initially it was great fun, very sexy. One in particular - a daughter of somewhat indeterminate age (a recurring theme but in my head I (she) am mid-late teen who had never met her father until now and was very attracted to him, and I seduced my “father”. Sometimes it was the reverse as both have a powerful resonance for me. Soon after, the relationship disintegrated into an abusive relationship where in the last three years we had sex three times. This was also a time when I had my first and only flashbacks of apparent sexual abuse – perhaps by my father but everything was unclear. This lover used all of this against me and would literally and figuratively poke at me about me being messed up because “your father fucked you” (I have no memories of any such thing and still don’t know if he ever touched me physically but he certainly psychologically molested me and was inappropriate.) She went from being playful and thoughtful about my desires and experiences to mocking and cruel. I suppose it’s no wonder I never really went to any great lengths to really enact any of these fantasies for so long.

Later, with my next partner I eventually whispered the word “Daddy” at the height of passion. It was not rebuffed but actual serious role play was not her strong suit. Well that’s not totally true but it was of a different nature, the daddy stuff wasn’t as much of a draw for her. We had lots of fun and saying things like “come for me daddy” did work. But what I realized over time, mostly unconsciously with hindsight being nearly perfect, is that the reason I didn’t go deeper with her is because she could only wear what I was looking for and not inhabit it. We played with it more and said a lot of the right words but something was missing.

In the time before and during my relationship with her, I spent time looking at this dynamic on the web and struggling with my thinking about all it. There were people who talked about it in this other way, one that was more about being taken care of –something I resist and crave. As I said, I always knew the sexual piece, it was the rest that I hadn’t put together – the deeper, less sexual nature of daddy/girl was what I really wanted and needed to resolve.

I spent years making peace with acting out my possible abuse at my father’s knee or another male’s hand using fantasies whether in my head, in a book, or whispering the words. It was my way of reclaiming what happened (no matter what plane it existed on); I think this is why both sides, me as the seduced or as the seducer have so much power for me.

This new concept of being someone’s beloved baby girl was much scarier for me ultimately than wanting to act out incest. I resisted even as I read peons to this relationship. The threads on butch-femme.com about “orphaned little girls” do not resonate for me, I felt no affinity for these women. People who do deep age play clearly were looking for something different, maybe it’s a more visceral recreation, reenactment of what they miss or craved in their childhood. So many possible things but I still wasn’t finding anyone who really named what I wanted.

Ultimately I realized I craved cherishing, the sense of being taken care of – something my childhood lacked, in so many ways. This idea is in total opposition to my fierce desire of taking care of me, of not needing someone in that way in my life. I am the caretaker, how could I want someone to do that for me? So as I moved slowly and half unconsciously to this self knowledge, I also knew there was no way my last partner could do any of that, even as she claimed she had been, could be a “daddy”.

Why I associate all of this with a father and not a mother is hard to say and I’m not sure it matters much except that as a person who identifies as a lesbian who primarily pairs with women who at least look if not gender id as butch, it all seems to match up for me. It’s nothing I feel drawn to delve into – all the variations of gender expression, sexual identity, societal expectation of parental roles along gender lines, etc, at least not in this essay.

Working through months of trying not to leave my partner and knowing I had to, I think this subject was one of the things that were brewing to full knowledge at the edges of my brain. In the wily ways of the universe, it has granted me with someone who might be able to do all those things, and more. We are talking about it, playing with terms of endearment that follow that road and it feels very heady. It is an interesting time to have this person drop into my world. This is a time when I decided to be on my own, made a firm decision to not move in with anyone, possibly ever again. A time when I have no firm plans, no true home address. It seems in contradiction that at this amazing time in my journey, when I am carving out a new path and to find someone who might cherish me, care for and about me in this way, regardless of the labels applied that I have clearly desired for a very long time. In either case, I am tentatively dipping my toes into this dynamic, which for convenience I call daddy/girl. So far, and it’s very new for both of us, it feels good, it feels like a piece of the way I have wanted to be treated in an intimate relationship forever. I have no idea if it will heal anything, minimize scars and or fill empty spaces of my life, but I will embrace the positives of it and keep an eye out for the negatives.