How submission turns me on

Here’s a recent exchange I had with someone who prefers to remain nameless:

Her: Today I’ve found myself thinking about things that could happen [when we meet]…

Me: Good girl. Tell me.

Her: Where we’ll meet (hopefully I won’t know anyone). What you’ll ask me to do when we’re out (go to the bathroom and bring my panties back in my hand?). How you’ll talk to me, what you’ll say and how loud. How aware of everyone and everything else I’ll be. If I’ll be shy or if you’ll bring out my naughty side straight away. How hard you’ll hit me, how hard you’ll fuck me. The waiting, the anticipation. The connection between us…

When I sent that message – “Tell me” – I knew that I was courting disaster. Well, not disaster, but a sort of coming-apart. Had she replied with specific desires, I would have instantly compared each to my own desires, and, to the extent there was daylight between what I might want and what she said, I’d experience that daylight as “demands” on her part, and I would have winced. And maybe simply turned off/away.

Her answer elegantly pandered to my precise needs and desires, leaving the actual agenda entirely up to me, being limited to curiosity about how things would work, rather than preferences.

I (sometimes, not always) wish that I were more receptive to the preferences and desires of others. It’s not, honestly, that I’m notIsabel told me recently that she had found certain things she’d read that I had done with V hot, and that she was “very open to exploring.” Isabel is exquisitely sensitive to my sensitivity, and she immediately afterward asked if she had overstepped in any way. She hadn’t. She had offered a clever formulation, giving me a gift, rather than a demand: she didn’t say, “Please do this to/with me.” Or even, “I’d like it if you did.” Instead, she gave me information – that something turns her on, that she’s open to it – and she closed with, “I am happy to play as you want.” I’m grateful for this.

Often, of course, women do ask me for things. Where it gets dicey for me – again, not by choice, but by circumstance – is when what they ask for aren’t things I’m eager to give. If a woman asks me to lick her clit? I’m almost always thrilled to oblige. If she asks me to fuck her, it all depends. My relationship to fucking is more complicated than my relationship to clit-licking, or cock-socking.

My desire can be fragile.

One comment

  1. There is something inherently tender in this that simultaneously stimulates my pleasure centers both between my legs and the one more focally located in the recesses of my brain. Thank you for sharing and communicating in such a vulnerably assured way. There is such beauty and sexy in fragility..

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