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Posts Tagged ‘bisexuality’

  1. New Management

    October 11, 2012 by Heather Cole

    It all began with a little red heart next to one of my pictures on Fetlife. The man who bestowed it had a handsome, smiling face and was partnered with a young woman who had recently posted a journal entry about having “no expectations” when it came to relationships. It was good writing, and I admired their open, loving way with one another. It’s hard sometimes to get a feel of people electronically, but Spanks and Miss M gave me a good vibe.

    FINE! I was stalking them. OK? I was running late to Liri’s birthday party at Matt’s house, because my muffins wouldn’t rise. Not a euphemism. So I was looking at Fet and trying to formulate my intentions for the evening. I know I have a tendency to overthink things, but I like deciding what I want out of an evening ahead of time. Since I currently have no Master or Dom, I like to think about my options. You see, I’m under new management–my own.

    When I arrived at the party, it was no surprise when Liri grabbed me by the hand to meet some “awesome folks.” It was right in keeping with my goals for the night. I intended to meet at least three new people, and I wanted to help Liri celebrate. After making our way through a crowd of people, I was suddenly staring face-to-face with the very couple I had been looking at on my computer screen. In fact, I think my first sentence was, “holy fuck, I was just stalking you on Fetlife!” Yes, I’m a card carrying member of dork.

    I was thrilled to discover that Spanks and Miss M were as engaging as I had thought. They were friendly and kind and smoothed right over my stupid opening line. Liri drifted away to speak with someone else, and it wasn’t long before Miss M divulged that she had a bit of a crush on Liri. Darlings, if I had a dollar for every person, male and female, that has told me that, I’d be typing this on a gold plated laptop. Of course I was delighted to facilitate some play between the nubile Miss M and my girl. I believe Liri’s exact words were, “it’s my birthday, and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want!” She then turned to the excited couple and explained, “Heather is a connoisseur of pain and a slave.” As I blushed at the introduction, Liri asked me to be her assistant.

    Miss M protested when I knelt to unfasten the tiny buckles around her slender ankles, but I brushed off her offer to help. “This is the perk of having a slave,” I said. I carefully folded her clothes and set her wine glass to the side where it wouldn’t get knocked over by floggers or canes. The services I performed, although small, were significant. I’m service inclined, generally speaking, in my day-to-day interactions, but that night was different. I realized hours later that the thing that sent a sizzle of electricity through me was demonstrating what I was capable of. It was a mere ripple on the surface of my deep submission, but it was as if I said with each graze of my fingertip along her calf, “do you realize what it would be like to own me? Even for a night…”

    Miss M was cuffed to the large wooden frame in the living room, and Spanks and I sat back to watch the scene. Sweeties, never doubt for a moment that my Liri isn’t a fucking sadistic cunt. She will smile and laugh and tell you the very best things from her giant science brain, and then that beautiful woman will treat your most tender bits to some serious pain. From the volume of Miss M’s shrieks, I think she’d agree with me. After I snapped some excellent pictures of Spanks with his head buried between Miss M’s creamy thighs, Liri cleaned up the implements she had used and motioned me upstairs.

    We ended up in a tangle on the bed, and an orgasm soon followed. Mine, that is. It should probably have been Liri receiving the orgasm since she was one of the three birthday girls that night, but when she’s feeling bossy, I’m a very happy recipient of her oral administrations. Then she bounded out of bed and tugged on her second outfit of the evening, announcing that she was going downstairs to receive birthday spanks. I moved to follow, but I was much slower to pull myself together. A good orgasm can do that to you.

    I was almost out of the bedroom when Miss M appeared in the doorway with Spanks in tow. She was wearing his white button down shirt and was a vision of red hair and pale, smooth skin. I gave her a hug of congratulations on a great scene, and she said something complimentary in return. Our conversation is a bit blurred in my memory. I can remember the feel of her hands on the curve of my waist and how close her heart-shaped face was to mine. She wanted to play with me. Even if the actual words had never crossed her lips, I would have felt it in the charged air between us. My brain almost short-circuited on our sexual sparks, but I experienced a moment of panic. Who did I ask for permission?

    I’m not accustomed to operating without specific rules. Liri doesn’t own me. We’re dating. We love each other. But she has never restricted anything I do. I’ve asked her for things, but she has never required anything of me like, “thou shalt not play with other women!” The conflict is that I’ve been trained to navigate with specific rules in place about what I may or may not do in a play situation. My instincts were to automatically ask permission as any slave would, but there wasn’t anyone to ask. Just when I thought I’d have to run in the bathroom and hide, Miss M said the thing that sealed my fate, “I’ve never had the chance to explore a woman before.”

    I’ve blogged about some of my bisexual challenges here, so the regular readers will know that I spent years yearning to have a “real” experience with another woman. I feared that I would be forever stuck in the bi-curious category because of lack of opportunity and a lack of confidence with women. When Miss M said that, her words reverberated with my own. I also saw a glimmer of what my heart truly wanted–to be used as a sexual toy. At some point Spanks asked to video us for his personal library, and you know me, I agreed. It was for posterity!

    Nails raked down my chest as teeth fastened around my right nipple. Instinctively I arched my back, but Miss M pinned my lower body firmly with her own. Her hair was a cascade around me as she nibbled and kissed her way over my body. She complimented me, worshipped me, and I felt honored and… speechless with the gift she was giving me. Someone’s first. Miss M’s first. The memory of it brings all those feelings back, and I’m grateful all over again as I sit here and write.

    Miss M’s mouth was still between my legs when Liri came back into the bedroom.

    “OH!” she said and disappeared into the bathroom.

    Miss M and I parted with more hugs and caresses while my brain churned. Technically I hadn’t broken any rules, but my slave instincts were in high gear. I needed to apologize to Liri. I tried to squelch my rising panic. The voice of reason whispered, this isn’t the same situation. Liri is different. We didn’t have enough rules that kept our feelings safe! I argued with logic. What was I supposed to do, just blunder around until I really fucked something up? I needed to fix something. I worried that I had somehow hurt Liri even though nothing of the sort had been verbalized between us. Liri swore she was fine, that what I had done was fine, that everything was peachy birthday keen. But as I’ve written a hundred times before, old patterns are a bitch to change. If she had taken a crop to me or caned me until I sobbed, it would have been a relief; that remembered pattern of guilt assuaged in physical pain. Maybe the uncertainty I fretted over was related to both of us trying to feel our way through a completely new situation. Neither one of us had expected me to be the lady cherry popper, but there I was in the afterglow.

    Liri told me to get on the bed again. I frowned in confusion but did as she ordered. She gave me one instruction: I had to count my orgasms out loud. Once my brain caught up with my body, I relaxed. Liri probably didn’t mean it as a reclaiming, but the slave in me interpreted it as such and took comfort in it. I tried to articulate the feeling later, but I don’t think I managed it. Liri and I have talked about playing with the incredible Miss M again, but it’s Liri who has my time, my energy and a piece of my heart. She’s also the one who inspired me to yell, “four is my favorite number!”

  2. Authentically Me

    September 4, 2012 by Heather Cole

    Last Thursday I told my mama that I was bisexual. I had been dancing around the subject for months. She knew about Liri as my closest friend in my new city, but I stopped short of telling her the complete truth. Each time that I bit back a word, I told myself that it was to protect her. This past year has been chock full of major life revelations for me: divorce, Master/slave relationship in BDSM, polyamory. Oh yeah, I hit all the high notes. I’ve told mama about them, and she has stood by me through it all. On top of my own challenges, though, my brother just announced his divorce which rocked the entire family. I thought that the last thing mama needed was to know one more thing about me that was nonconformist, nontraditional and different.

    I spent weeks giving myself a pep talk about how to have “the talk.” My stomach was a mess of butterflies every time I heard mama’s voice. After everything I had told her about my sexuality, I didn’t understand what was making me balk. I suppose it boiled down to what every child worries about; I hated disappointing her. I hated upsetting mama and being a cause of her worry. Then on Thursday morning, after we discussed her cat, my dog, my daughter and the weather, I took the plunge.

    “Mama, I have something to tell you.”
    “Do I need to grab my bottle of whiskey?” she asked.
    “It’s ten o’clock in the morning, but probably yes.” I replied.

    The truth is that I have no fucking clue what I’m doing when it comes to women, and I said as much to mama. I’ve been bi-curious since elementary school, but I never had the courage to act on my desires. Well, except for making out with Crissy in the woods behind her parents house when I was twelve. Aaaaaand I may have gotten a little fresh with a drunk friend at a party in high school. It was the first time I felt boobs other than my own, and the next day she didn’t remember me copping a feel. I felt guilty but also elated. I had touched breasts!

    It wasn’t until Liri popped my lady cherry that I had my first taste of what it felt like to be physically intimate with a woman. I remember telling Nikki that now was the perfect time to explore my desires, and being the supportive soulmateclone that she is, she said “DO IT!”. I would be foolish to remain lusting on the sidelines while a beautiful, intelligent woman like Liri beat me with a flogger. So Liri and I flirted, kissed and talked about all sorts of things. We were becoming close friends, but the crucial difference was that I wanted Liri naked.

    If she was a man I would have had the confidence to boldly make my move. I would have recognized the signs, known the steps to the courtship dance that I’ve performed over the years and engaged in it instinctively. Liri is not a man, thankfully. She is tall with legs that go on forever. Her hair is wheat colored and long, and her breasts are full and gorgeous. She’s incredibly intelligent, funny and can out-belch any frat boy. When we’re together, I have an excruciatingly delicious combination of feelings: nervousness, lust, love and frustration. I’m working with no roadmap, and for my Type-A personality, the cluelessness is maddening.

    I know the exact moment when I realized that I wanted something more with Liri than the occasional scene at a party or an evening at my place. We were at Frisky Business checking out the sale on Aslan leather strap-on harnesses. We wore dresses and heels and were riding the high of having devoured a bag of Cheetos before our shopping expedition. We held up different sizes of silicone cocks and debated the sizes and shapes. After some discussion we asked the clerk to unlock the dressing room so we could fit the harness on Liri.

    The dressing room was large and square, and what I really wanted to do was slip to my knees and run my hands up Liri’s bare legs. I wanted to lift her skirt and bury my face between her legs to have my way with her for as long as I could before we attracted notice. But I didn’t. I was too shy. Too unsure. Too inexperienced. Dear God, I felt like I was seventeen again. We exited the dressing room without sexual incident, and Liri made a quick trip to her car for a coupon. As I waited at the counter, the clerk commented that we made an adorable couple. She said that they didn’t get many “fems” in the store, and she thought we looked really pretty together. My heart soared as I thanked her. It was that moment. That second when I thought, “holy fuck, I want to be Liri’s girlfriend. I want to be something more with her.”

    I didn’t give any of these details to mama. I sketched the barest outline; I’m bisexual and finally exploring what that means to me. I’m dating Liri, and she’s amazing. I’m being thoughtful and responsible. There were tears shed on both sides of the conversation, and surprisingly, mama said that she thought it was common for people to have same-sex desires. In her opinion, lots of people have them, they just don’t act on it. Later in the day, she wrote me an email. She wrote that she had been journaling and wanted to share some thoughts, and at the end of her message, I was crying again because of my love for her.

    As a therapist, she helps people discover their authentic selves, their true selves. Growing up she gave the message to my brother and I that living a life as your true self was more valuable than going through life living in fear of rocking the boat. So here I am, discovering my authentic self, and even though she’s worried, she’s also proud. I’m doing the exact thing she teaches others to do. I’m my mother’s daughter. I am me. And mama will love me no matter where my journey takes me.