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13 Nov

ConTuesday! Movable types

Oh, were you looking for confessions?

I’m a bisexual woman and I have a thing for brunette curly haired Catholic girls with with squarish glasses. I have a type, and it’s rather specific. I love loving them. They’re not the only girls I’m attracted to, but I’m consistently attracted to just about every one that I meet. There’s just something about connecting with a girl who has realized she likes girls, against her background and upbringing. About kissing her, and teaching her to kiss and how to love. I never asked or chose to have some sort of special attraction to them. I just do. There’s something in their smiles as they throw off their previous inhibitions and there’s something absolutely wonderful about being myself around them. I’m that protestant girl who teaches all the good Catholic girls how to kiss, and it’s fucking awesome.

I don’t even know any Catholic people in real life. Are they real? Are you sure you don’t live in a musical comedy called “Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Pussy?”

Many times I’ve found myself in the role of ”The other woman”. Rather than being ashamed, or embarrassed, I love it. I love dating married, or otherwise attached, men. I love meeting a new man and finding out he’s been married for 10 years to a woman who doesn’t give head because I love being the one to break the dry spell, so to speak. In my experience, married men will stray quicker for head than for anything else. Ladies, want to keep your man at home? Treat him like he’s special occasionally, listen to him and, for God’s sake, occasionally suck his dick like it spews manna from heaven because if you won’t do it, there’s another woman who would love to give your husband everything he’s not getting at home.

“I love meeting a new man and finding out he’s been married for 10 years to a woman who doesn’t give head…” I will literally never be happy to learn this because it means I can probably never give him a double blowjob with his wife. And that’s just a little less beauty in the world, by my reckoning.

I tell men I know that I won’t ride behind them on motorcycles because of family tradition. That’s mostly true, let’s say 85%. The other 15%? The vibration of the bike, proximity to/touching the driver, and associated smells (sweat, leather, exhaust) are a volatile combination for me. The smell of bike on a man makes him more attractive; that same smell on a man I already find attractive starts a chain reaction that could wash my panties off as I’m wearing them. Mathematically 85% is bigger than 15%, but in practice that 15% will win almost every time. My hormones are very selfish–and very driven–molecules.

Needless to say I stay off bikes.

A newer friend of mine has one. His mind made his body attractive and he’s offered to take me riding with him. I’m never quite sure if he’s aware that he could have me naked with a word–he’s been warned about how he uses his vocabulary around me..but not the why behind it (he pushes all kinds of D/s buttons he doesn’t know I have)–or if I’m really not obvious enough. I often think he’s teasing me to get a rise out of me. I’ve tried to do the flirting thing, including casual touching, but it feels awkward because I don’t know if I’m doing it right. He says I clean up nice and I do try to look better when he’s around. Unfortunately, I usually see him in my work grungy state.

He and my statuesque (the word doesn’t do her justice) friend have been eyefucking for a semester in class. I’m not nearly as attractive in the same way, so I don’t have much faith in being the last woman standing. She says she just wants to fuck him. She knows how I feel about him. I’m not really built for the hit-it-and-quit-it or sex without connection. I’d feel obligated to avoid seeing him naked if she got there first. Sisters before misters or something like that. I know he doesn’t owe me attention. I don’t want to be a female Nice Guy (TM). I wonder if stomping these feelings down so I still have the opportunity to be his friend is wrong and puts me in Nice Guy territory anyway.

I want to take that ride. I want that mix of fear and joy and the knowledge that I’m safe, that my driver will keep me safe so I can share in the dangerous fun. I want to take several rides.

I want to ride him after each one. I’ve never been with someone who aims to please. I don’t know what a tongue ring feels like, but I want that knowledge. I finally want to have sex outside in a thunderstorm during the summer when the air is hot and dry and still like I’ve wanted to since I was a teen. He’s mischievous so I think he’d be game. I want to ride the bike to the coast, ride him, make his coffee the next morning, and listen to him read me philosophy by the ocean.

But he thinks I’m a “good girl.” Most men do. Not the fun (kinky?) kind that ought to be corrupted: the wrong kind.

The kind that’s code for “boring,” “unattractive,” and “neuter.”

There is not a kind of good girl that exists but that somebody, somewhere wants to corrupt her, and I bet some of them ride motorcycles. The fact that I find that truth reassuring rather than creepy is… I think it’s fine.

Not that I’m any kind of a good girl.

This week, for the first time, my crush tied me up, blindfolded me, and spanked me with his belt. It was amazing. We both had a lot of fun and I know I came away with tons of ideas for future play. The whole experience was wonderful. We discussed boundaries and safewords first. We sat on the couch and discussed what we wanted out of the experience. Then we played and fucked and afterward we lay there together, sweaty and exhausted, grinning like idiots. When we could catch our breath and use our brains again, we talked about how it went and what we liked and what we wanted to do differently later.

It was a wonderful, fun, sexy experience.

I love how you already have better communication with your crush than some people have with people they’ve been married to for a decade. And don’t blow, apparently.

I’ve had sex 7 times in the last 7 days with 3 different people. Each of them knows about one of my other partners, but not the third. I love how naughty I feel!

This is the setup for a really fun logic puzzle, isn’t it?

According to all available actual evidence, I am about as straight as they come. I have only ever dated guys, had sex with guys, kissed guys, found guys attractive. However, I can very distinctly imagine a girl that I would find hot as hell and want to fuck the shit out of. She’d be my height, curvy, butch, hair short or in a mohawk, icy blonde if not electric blue or red. She’d be devastatingly intelligent and cuttingly sarcastic, and we would have hot sex for hours. Unfortunately, I have never met a girl that comes anywhere close to this description. So for now, I guess I’m still straight.

Okay, really, I have no personal investment in you being straight or heteroflexible or bisexual or whatever, but part of me wants to find this woman for you. Maybe it’s my cryptozoology geek coming out.

Which just reminds me how hot I am for Slenderman.

Send me secrets, people. Please do.

  1. Anon
    November 13th, 2012 at 14:58 | #1

    I think I’ve found a match for the mystery crush -

    journalist Laurie Penny

  2. November 13th, 2012 at 16:22 | #2

    Confession #3 makes me think I should buy a motorcycle.

    But, maybe I’ll start small and just get a tongue ring. Or, at the very least, read more philosophy near bodies of water.

  3. FilledeMarius
    November 14th, 2012 at 19:44 | #3

    I feel obligated to mention that there is an erotic novella called Slenderbone. You can find it on Amazon:


  4. The Good Girl
    November 15th, 2012 at 01:46 | #4

    I’m #3. We’ve made one of those trips already. I’m sitting on biker boy’s couch right now as I type this.

    The one who confessed to conflicted drunk sitting a few weeks ago? Me.
    That’s him, too.

    I wrote #3 before I knew the whole story. The confessional gave me a way to get my feelings out and get up the nerve to tell him at the same time.

    He still thinks I’m sweet and he’s fiercely protective of me, more so now than he was before. Our relationship is different these days but I don’t love him any less and I know he loves me a lot more. There’s something strangely normal about it all.

    I didn’t get what I wanted. Instead, I think I got what I needed.

  5. The Good Girl
    November 15th, 2012 at 01:54 | #5

    Re: conflicted drunk sitting

    He’s the one I watched all night after holding him to my bosom because he was he was hurting so badly (there’s a reason he drank hard that night).

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