I have come across my fair share of pervaphobes during my adulthood. And there have been times where my actions and words have been grotesquely and magnificently misconstrued by a few previous lovers due to their own fears and/or childhood to adolescent abuse having triggered a variety of defense mechanisms.
Here is one example… Amongst other things, SOMETIMES I enjoy putting eye makeup on a lover, a sexy Asian man, along with a satiny undergarment and whatnot. And I’ve always kinda hoped to someday walk in on a boyfriend wearing something from my lingerie drawer, but this hasn’t happened yet.
It’s been kind of a longtime fantasy of mine for a significant other to pull an “Ed Wood” on me and need to confess his compulsion for secretly wearing my knickers and explain it in full detail. At first I would act shocked and surprised (just for the purpose of adding intensity to the moment) then my eyes would grow huge and I’d smile then say something like “No. Fucking Way.” And almost immediately want to suck his cock which would probably be bulging from a pair of my panties.
Have you ever felt satin panties against your cock? If not, you really should try it out.
I’m feeling like women are probably gonna feel my vibe more with this post and guys will be hesitant to comment.
But, seriously… Eugene Lee Yang of the Try Guys has even done it, several times, along with those funny white dudes, for several Youtube videos. Really, it’s no biggie.
Hahaha… The expression on his face kills it. [via Buzzfeed]
Does this mean that I’m attracted to weak, effeminate sissy men? No, I promise you I am not. Is crossdressing mandatory for dating or having sex with me? Not at all.
I just occasionally enjoy looking at masculine, straight, sexy men who just so happen to be lounging about in and stretching the hell outa my satin, silk or sheer panties. Fuck yeah. It’s fun. And I just think that cocks are beautiful and should be wrapped in the finer fabrics. That’s all I’m saying.
Last night a friend of mine told me that the idea made him wanna vomit and I said, “Oh c’mon, that’s pretty extreme don’tcha think. Kinda ridiculous.”
Trying new things is fun so I really don’t get why some men act so squeamish about certain things.
One guy I had dated refused to slip into my sheer boyshorts then later tried to cram his fully erect member into my hyper-clenched bumhole with very little warning. And it was large and Korean. And he had no lube but suggested that WATER would work just the same. Right. And so why does KY exist, Mr. Smarty Pants? I’m very protective of my tight, well-functioning sphincter.
And on to another topic.
I have on occasion offered a significant other the right to fuck me while I slept. That it was okay, providing we had a relationship based on mutual respect, to use my unconscious body as a… uh… fuckdoll.
And usually I would wake up at some point, but there were a few times when I was just too groggy and faintly recall my limbs being pulled and repositioned, my floppy arms being grasped and held firmly over my head… And it was as though I was experiencing a euphoric, semi-lucid wet dream. I had an orgasm once and came fully awake near the end. That was a pretty intense experience and it took me a moment to realize that I hadn’t dreamt it.
Unfortunately, other than taking advantage of “morning wood” we women can’t really enjoy the same privilege, for the most part. Believe me, I’ve tried.
A few boyfriends have welcomed me to have at it. But once a man is dead asleep it’s like attempting to preform magic as the sleaziest snake charmer to ever rouse a limp noodle. I’ve even tried to give it a pep talk, “C’mon now… upsy-daisy. You can do it. I love you, man. Hey. Hey! Psssst… Dammit I thought we were friends.”
Cocks just do as they please, really.
I’m imagining that for you men who enjoy the feeling of domination and power over your lover during sex… fucking your girl while she sleeps (consensually, I would propose) would probably be very satisfying on many levels.
I took intense pleasure in the act of giving up control of my body preceding and during those moments. Verbalizing this allowance felt incredibly intimate, which could’ve been because I had voiced my trust in him, and given a kind of ownership of my body during a time in which the connection between us was impassioned and tender.
That was before moving in together, during an era of countless late nights when he would rush over to my condo on 2nd Avenue, after he left his office.
I was always so excited to find him at my door and he would pick me up as we kissed our way out to the patio. Then we would end up fucking with a view of the bay on the left and the Space Needle to the right, without acknowledging that a few neighbors were probably watching us.
He took his time licking my pussy many times out there, kneeling in front of the lounge chair, holding my legs up from under my knees. And I would suck him off while he stood leaning against the railing and enjoyed a clear view of the Puget Sound.
Whenever he started to cum that way he would have one hand braced on the railing, the other behind my head, his fingers tangled up in my hair. And he would gasp “Ahhhhhh Gaaaaaaaaaaad” over and over while incidentally yanking my hair. But I never mentioned it, even though I have a very sensitive scalp and so tears would usually end up streaming down my cheeks whenever I gave him head. Then I would wipe my eyes and cheeks before he could see it.
Afterwards I would curl up in his lap in my big, comfy papasan and wrap an arm around his neck, sometimes drifting off that way.