This past year was a sexual roller coaster. Actually, a sexual tornado would be more appropriate. When 2013 started, I worked up the courage to throw my inhibitions to the wind, and go on a fucking spree. After two long monogamous relationships ended on a sour note, all I wanted to do was finally play with hot guys whenever and however I wanted. I wanted to experiment. I wanted to see what else was out there. I wanted kink. I wanted taboo. I was dying to liberate my vaj and shatter the status quo that women can’t be sexual without being whores. It pisses me off when guys are commended for having lots of sex, but women are slut shamed for doing the same. Fuck that. Fuck double standards.
I learned so much from all the sex I had this year, both good and bad, and it has left me feeling enlightened. Now, it’s gotten to the point where “normalcy” feels kinky to me. Hair pulling, degrading dirty talk, spanking, choking, crying, barfing, and other fun things no longer feel so out of the ordinary anymore. Instead, activities like watching a movie with a guy or going to a concert seem taboo and enticing. How did I get here? And will I want to stay?
Let me recount some of my steps:
There was Mr. Anime. He had a weird fixation with Japanese culture, and there was definitely something off about him. He was shy and introverted, and was super, super awkward. But he knew how to rough me up in the sack by letting his inner animal come out. He would grab me and hold me down with a tight grip. It was so intense, I was sore all over in the end with the occasional bruises. He introduced innocent little me to sex that hurt so good. Before him, I only ever had weak pansy sex.
What I learned: I will never have weak pansy sex again.
There was Prince Albert. He had a dick piercing that brought me to a whole new level of ecstasy. That thing made me dizzy with pleasure, I thought I was going to pass out while it pounded and stroked my g-spot until I squirted. Yes. I squirted – a feat I once likened to riding a unicorn down a rainbow in terms of the chances I’d ever experience it. It was beautiful. Dreams do come true, kids. He was also rough. He pulled my hair. He told me to shut the fuck up when I moaned too loud. I liked being spoken to that way in bed. It was very, very hot.
What I learned: I am capable of squirting and I like being put in my place.
There was Mr. Popeye’s. He was my first real one night stand. I was liquored up quite nicely, and went back to his place with him, where he fucked me so hard I bled on his sheets. The following morning, I woke up hungover, panicked, and accidentally woke him up with a loud “FUCK.” I told him I shouldn’t have slept with him. I told him I had to leave. He insisted I stay. He assured me that everything was OK. I told him I wanted Popeye’s fried chicken. He took me to Popeye’s for fried chicken. He bought me a whole bucket. One night stands were less scary after that.
What I learned: I need to take a chill pill – one night stands are casual and fun, and can result in fried chicken.
There was Monsieur. He was a wealthy foreigner who was essentially perfect in every superficial way – hot accent, tall, beautiful body, huge cock. He took me on cute dates. He was always a gentleman in the most traditional way, until we “made love,” as he called it. The first few times, he was gentle and romantic – it felt like I was losing my virginity over and over again. That’s how sweet it was. But then he experimented with gently choking me and slapping me in the face. I was surprised at first, but started getting turned on by it more and more. I like being a bottom. His penis was so gorgeous and wonderful, but alas, speaking the same language became too important.
What I learned: Sweet virgin sex is nice, but getting choked and slapped is even nicer.
There was Mr. Grey. He was everything that I was ever afraid of, combined into one peculiar man. He was the final act of my erratic 2013 sexcapades. The grand finale. This guy spanked me with a riding crop. He caned me when I was naughty. He used nipple clamps on me. He slapped me across the face and choked me. HARD. He scared the shit out of me. But I had never been so turned on in my life. He introduced the idea of polyamory to me. He taught me how to deep throat with his gigantic dick. I have a sensitive gag reflex and I repeatedly felt like I was going to puke, and he asked me to let go and just do it because he liked it. So I barfed on his dick. While tears rolled down my cheeks. Surprisingly, I wasn’t disgusted. I felt proud. It’s a confusing place to be when a barf covered dick leads to feelings of grandeur. I learned so much from this guy. I liked being his submissive slut. It was fucking awesome.
What I learned: I can deep throat huge dicks, even if it means barfing on them, and I love being 100% submissive in bed.
Then there is Mr. Right. Not that everyone else was wrong, but this is the first time in a long time that things feel right. He’s a kind, sweet boy who is the total opposite of what I am used to. He is “normal.” He is dateworthy. He makes me laugh and likes the same music as me. He is someone who I’d like to keep around to see where things go. I haven’t had sex with him. For the first time, I don’t feel ready yet. I’m typically always a sex starved nympho, but with him, I want to be patient. It’s odd, but refreshing. Instead of plans like dressing up like a school girl and losing my anal virginity, we have plans to watch movies on Netflix. This has become my new excitement. This is my new kink play.
What I learned: Watching a movie and holding hands can be as erotic as having sex.
As 2013 comes to a close, I can confidently say that I’ve seen all that I needed to see, fucked all that I needed to fuck. I’ve successfully broken free and liberated the poon. I had a full year satisfying my sexual, primitive cravings. Now, I’m curious about the emotional, intimate side of things. I’ll always be a nympho, and I’m still going to fuck the shit out of this guy when the moment is right. But now, I’m also learning how to date again with the intention of it one day potentially turning into a real relationship. This whole idea is so taboo, so kinky, it’s making me hot and bothered just thinking about it. Maybe, just MAYBE….2014 will be the ‘Year of the Boyfriend’ for me. Now THAT’s a fetish I’ll need to get used to.