#75 “You had to hold down my pelvis or my careless thrusts could’ve knocked a tooth out.”
You Broke Every Rule I Ever Had About Men - And I’ll Always Love You For It
I spent the first 25 years of my life as a lesbian, knowing I was always secretly bisexual, but knowing also that my conservative family could never understand the diversity of sexuality, of people, and of lovers. I was with a long-term girlfriend, then another long-term girlfriend, so the binary label seemed easier. Straight. Gay. Leave the “in between” part for when I’m alone wanking to porn. But then I tried the dick. With a lot of curiosity and experimentation, it seemed ok enough, and if I could help match fantasy to reality, it could possibly even be decent.
But with a lot of trial and too much error, I decided men had no idea how to go down on women. Let’s face it, I’ve worked with real experts. Women know women better. It’s a fact I always accepted. It’s like taking your vintage car to the dealership vs. the local mechanic. Sure, you’re going to get up-charged, but they know your brand the best.
When men would try to go down on me, I would stop them at the thought. “No, no…it’s ok… just stick it in,” I’d tell them, unwilling to waste my time faking another orgasm to prevent a fractured ego. Ok, I was a little more polite than that, with a baby thrown in for good measure. “But I love doing it,” a lover said once. I rolled my eyes, secretly wondering if I could get away with reading the news on my phone at the same time he was drowning in his own drool.
Giving the direction “fingers inside me with clitoral stimulation” seemed to cause as much confusion as telling him to look behind something to find the milk. I half expected him to stand at the foot of the bed like I was a refrigerator with the door open and gaze at me in endless confusion at this foreign concept. This was not “walk and chew gum”, this was a another thing far more complicated. I thought, I can speak “bro”. I was a lesbian, for Christ’s sake. “Have you ever driven a stick shift?"
So I made things simpler. Fuck me. Hard. Preferably from behind. Because once you get that angle, that oh-so perfect angle just right, that thrust will set me off like the Fourth of July just had an orgy with Cupid and Santa while the Easter Bunny jerked off in the corner and the world exploded with fireworks, flowers, presents, and chocolate cream eggs all at once, then twice, oh wait…one more time…there…I’m good…pardon while I tremble. Am I crying? It’s ok, it’s the good kind.
But then I met you. You were too tall, too tall. Your strength scared me. What if you hurt me? What if you yelled at me and I got scared? Given the stories I know and things I’ve seen, this wasn’t an impossible fear. But, no. My gentle giant’s hands are used only for snuggles, and squeezes, and slipping up my skirt or down my panties. For wiping stray eyelashes or insisting on another cookie while we play video games. For that one time I tried to hide my silent laughter behind the hair hanging in my face and you softly pushed it aside and caught me.
You have facial hair. That just won’t do. My father has facial hair, and we all know how I feel about him. But…..no…your furry chin doesn’t block your soft lips and perfect kisses. It cozies right up to my neck to tickle until I giggle with goosebumps and you pull me closer against you.
I humored you that first time. "Oh great… he wants to go down on me,” I thought. “Where’s that book I was reading?” But dear God and all other deities. You’re sucking my clit while you’re sticking your big long finger in me. Holy shit, is that two? Ohgod, ohgod, g-spot while you’re lapping at my clit? I was wrong to doubt you. How are your massive arms just the right length to reach to my breast to squeeze my nipple? Harder, please. Ahhh yes…just like that. Don’t you dare stop!
I couldn’t focus, I was overwhelmed. Overcome. That must be where that word comes from. I didn’t just come. I was overcome! You had to hold down my pelvis or my careless thrusts could’ve knocked a tooth out. My legs shook, my body tensed, and I squeezed your fingers hard. I was scared of how big the orgasm would be. Almost like it was going to be too much and I didn’t want to come because I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. A string of profanity followed, but you didn’t stop. You were taking me there. One more flick of your tongue across my clit and I covered your fingers buried inside me. But you were just getting warmed up. Three more like that followed and on the fourth I told you I didn’t think I could come again. I now understand how much you love a challenge, so of course, I came once more.
Nearly two years later, our sex has only gotten better. Sometimes passionate and loving where I won’t let your lips leave mine while you’re fingering me. Sometimes I’m on top of you laughing while my hips twerk to the music as I bounce on your cock. Sometimes I text you when you’re on your way over and tell you not to be gentle, and you spank me while you take me from behind.
And that one time you came over before going out of town. I was shaking with release and you were moving me to spoon before I stopped you. “No… I want another one…” And you seemed surprised before the lightbulb came on. “You’re gone for a few weeks, I just need-” and you shook your head. “I know what you’re doing. I got this,” you said with determination. I giggled at your “serious face” until you were inside me again.
You taught me I had it all wrong. You get me. You love me. You care for me. You protect me. And your balls always smell clean when I’m going down on you. You broke every rule, every assumption, I ever had about men and I will always love you for it.
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