My more-than-friend, Marissa,
I left that dogma decades ago and have since come out as kinky, genderqueer and pansexual. Now, I’m comfortable visiting dungeons to let out my inner mistress. But this particular artifact from my past ― my bias against oral — still bubbles up and at the worst moments. “In the past, when lovers expressed their interest in going down on me, I’d let it happen even though it wasn’t what I wanted. It was a way I could show my love, I reasoned.”
In those encounters, I lost a sense of autonomy because I wasn’t showing myself love. So, despite being someone who enjoys intimacy and is sexually adventurous, I began refusing oral sex altogether. I didn’t explain. Instead, I led them to our bed, tied a rope harness around their chest, and snuck into our bathroom to open the package. There was a light vanilla scent. The dark material felt like an extra light exercise band. It stretched like one, too. They slid on smoothly. I paired them with a mesh crop top and checked myself out in the mirror.I returned to our bedroom, where I stalked around, flogger in hand, building up my confidence.
Still, I braced myself for the inevitable over-stimulation, but it never came. The layer provided by the undies let the good-feeling pressure through but protected my clit.I felt a pleasant, anticipatory sensation flutter kick in my belly — my body’s way of sayingAfterward, I ran my fingers through my spouse’s hair, providing some after care. I caught their eyes and held them. I never thought enjoying oral sex was possible for me. Now, I wanted to ask my spouse for a second round.