Tuesday, July 19, 2011


I have issues with the term "queer". It's irrational, but knowing that my issues are irrational doesn't make them go away.

For those who don't know, this is one definition of "queer":
Queer is an umbrella term for sexual minorities[1] that are not heterosexual, heteronormative, or gender-binary.
The range of what "queer" includes varies. In addition to referring to LGBT-identifying people, it can also encompass: pansexual, pomosexual, intersexual, genderqueer, asexual and autosexual people, and even gender normative heterosexuals whose sexual orientations or activities place them outside the heterosexual-defined mainstream, e.g., BDSM practitioners, or polyamorous persons.
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queer

And looking at that definition, there should be no doubt that I'm queer. I get turned on by women and men both, and as such can't be concidered heterosexual. I'm heavily into BDSM. I concider myself at least partially to be polyamorous. There is no doubt that the definition of "queer" fits me like a glove.

My problem, therefore, lies not with the definition of "queer", but with the associations. And this is where irrationality comes in. You see, when I hear the word "queer", this is what I see in my mind:
A woman with very short hair, wearing men's clothing. Perhaps suspenders. Perhaps also a tie, or maybe a palestine-checkered scarf. One who's entire look screams "lesbian" and "political". One who gets all worked up if someone talks of men and woman as a dichotomy, despite this dichotomy being the foundation upon which our entire society and culture is built. (I'm not saying that's a good thing, nor am I saying it's bad to try to change it. I'm just saying that if you're going to get mad every single time, you will spend most of the day, every day, being mad.) I see someone with a long of anger and righteous indignation. One who's burns for a topic and wants to change the world. One who's read too many books written for (and about) so-called queer people (meaning homosexuals, mainly) and who knows too many theories. One who demands that you care about this as much as her, because it's important. One who keeps saying that the fight for equal rights is far from over.

I could go on and on, but you get the idea. I'm not saying that this woman is bad, or wrong. I think it's great that someone wants to stand on the barricades and fight the fight, so that most of us don't have to. She's like a suffragette, or like a woman burning her bra in the 70ies. She's an icon. She's fighting the good fight......... She just isn't me.

I don't fight. I'm not political. It's not that I don't care or that I don't see the inequality. I just have other things that engage me more, and am selfish enough to mainly think about myself. And MY life isn't so bad. I'm engaged to be married with a loving, wonderful man. When I fuck, it's 90% of the time with men. When I fantasize, it's also 90% of the time about men. When I do BDSM-related stuff, it's 75% of the time with men, and anything heavy that actually involves a lot of emotions and real committeemen is 100% with men. I have a BDSM plaything (Corvus), who's also a man (mostly). On the Kinsey Scale (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kinsey_scale), I'm probably a 2. I don't know much about that scale, but I'm certainly no higher than 2. Perhaps even a 1.

You see how this clashes in my mind. The definition of "queer" and my image of who and what "queer" is, just doesn't match. And so my mind creates these ideas of what other queer people think. Because I'm to such a large degree heterosexual that I've even stopped calling myself bisexual these days. Heteroflexible is a better term. If I were to go to an event for queer people, I imagine that they wouldn't accept me. Because I'm not queer enough. Not "hardcore" enough. That I would have a neon sign attached to my forehead that screamed "fake".

I realize, as I'm writing this, that these objections are eerily similar to those I had when I was fresh in the BDSM scene. I was certain that the more serious, "hardcore" players would reject me. That I didn't measure up, wasn't good enough (for more on this topic, see this entry). Perhaps this has truly nothing to do with being or not being queer. Perhaps it's just my fear of the unknown. My fear of a new social arena, my fear of rejection. I don't know. This requires more thinking... I think.

I miss T

T has been away for a long time now. So long, it feels like forever. It isn't. It's just over a week, I think, though I've lost count. Thing is, before going on holiday, he was at a LARP. And before that, there was a game con. So we haven't had more than a few days together at home and in relative peace for what feels like a month. It's not a month, not even near, but it feels that way.

Not to go completely bonkers, I have Corvus here with me. He sleeps in our bed, he sits in our couch, he eats my food. But he isn't T. I miss how T smells. How he breathes. How he talks. His humor. His smiles. His hugs. The way the thick coat of hair on his chest curls, and is just long enough for me to get a good handful if I grab it.

I haven't really missed him that much earlier, and even now this longing isn't any sort of unbearable pain or anything that melodramatic. It just feels as though I'm incomplete. Like he took a part of me with him. It doesn't hurt me, but it's definitely missing. And I long to be complete once more.

In the meantime, I'm having a very good time here with Corvus. He's in better shape, mentally, than he's been in a long time. Having someone around that makes sure he eats and gets up in the morning probably helps with the loneliness and feeling of despair. And so I worry what will happen when T comes back and Corvus goes back home, alone once more. For now, all I can do is build him up as best as I can. Make sure he rests and recuperates. He's taken a week off work, and I think that does him good.

We play frequently. Never for long at a time and rarely anything deep and serious... But he's always mine. Even when we're equals. Even when he's the boss, teaching me how to drive a car for the first time. Even then, we both know deep down that he's mine. He wears the collar to which only I have the key. He wears the chastity device, a steel cage, to which I'm also the only one with a key. He's got spare keys to both, but they are sealed off. Only to use in an emergency. His cock is mine, just like all of him is mine. And we both enjoy that tremendously.

He's recently started experimenting with a wand. That is, a small, hollow steel rod worn inside the urethra. With it inserted, the chastity cage becomes 100% escape proof. I'm fascinated by it, a bit appalled by it and I know (just like with the chastity cage) that my sense of disgust will probably pass once the idea has grown on me. Then there will only be the fascination left, and before I know it I will become turned on by that too. It's strange how our desires grow and change over time. Gone are the days when all I did was push his limits to suit my own, now we are pushing each other. I wonder what will be next..

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Naked in the woods: An exhibitionist's dream

On Tuesday, T and I had sex. We started out by watching a porn movie (there was a lot of fast forwarding. Primarily to skip the scene with the REALLY cheesy vampires). Then we went to the bedroom, where I lubed up and then we fucked. It was very nice, and I'm pleased that we had sex since he would be leaving for holiday the next day and be gone for two weeks. None of us was able to come like that, it was just too warm. So I gave T and blow job, which ended up as a hand job. He had to help out a bit, but I did most of it myself. It's always a proud moment when I make someone come. He's been away for only four days now, and I kinda miss him already. I'm so used to having him around, it's odd when he's not here.

On Wednesday, I was naked in the woods. Yep, you heard me. I was naked. In the woods. A friend of mine loves to take photos and had some ideas for a shoot. I haven't been naked in front of the camera for 5 years, and I enjoy it, so of course I said yes. He's in an open relationship with a lovely, and very pregnant, woman. She knows what we've been up to and don't mind. First we all had dinner together, then me and him went to a place that he thought suitable. It was about 15-20 minutes hiking to get there.

The first half an hour was a bit awkward. I was red-faced and sweaty from the hike. There were mosquitoes, ants, spruce needles and other pieces of foliage everywhere. Being naked in itself wasn't really a problem, but I felt sweaty and ugly and uncomfortable. Once I had settled myself on the ground and accepted that I was lying on scratchy blueberry bushes (bush-lets? They're tiny) and that there were things crawling all over me.. Then it wasn't so uncomfortable anymore. I felt much more at ease, and started to enjoy being naked, outside on a warm if somewhat overcast day. The temperature was perfect for being naked, there was practically no wind and we ended up with some great pictures. Of course, even though the pictures look great I still don't really like how I look in them: I'm so fat. But I try to silence that voice in my head and just think of it as art. It's easier that way.

As I was lying on the ground, touching myself and trying to look like something out of a renaissance painting, he was sneaking around in the bushes and photographing me. It was clear that he was turned on by the situation, as was I. I am an exhibitionist, after all. We were more or less done with the shoot, but of course we couldn't leave it at that. One thing led to the other, and there I was, naked in the foods, being finger fucked by this guy I don't know all that well. And DAMN, was he good with his fingers! Rougher than I would have thought I could handle, and I probably wouldn't have been able to handle it if I hadn't been that wet. I still have no idea exactly what he did or how he did it, but it was very, very nice. I didn't come, simply because getting me to come isn't that easy. But it was fairly close. He also used his tongue on my tits and pussy, but frankly he just wasn't rough enough. Very, very gentle stimulation on my nipples for example just wasn't enough to make me feel much of anything.

He was still fully dressed, and I could sense that he wouldn't have minded if we left it like that and didn't go any further. However, I enjoy being active too. He'd tasted me, so I though it only fair that I got to taste him. So he zipped down his shorts and stood before me, as I sat on a blanket on the ground. To my surprise, he was circumcised. That is VERY unusual in Norway, only mostly just done for medical reasons (like too tight foreskin). I'd never even touched a circumcised penis before, so that was interesting. I conclude that I prefer the dick with the foreskin intact. It just makes jerking them off so much smoother and easier. Anyhow, I sucked his dick and handled his balls, and he ended up coming right there in front of me. Luckily, I'd brought some wipes, so cleaning up was easy. We then gathered our stuff and went back to their place.

The strangest thing about this experience was the relationship between me and him. There was no tension. No flirting. No emotions other than horniness and a sense of friendship. What we did felt very good, and I'm glad we did it. But afterwards, we might as well have shared a sandwich or picked flowers, for all the tension in the air. Both of us are very straightforward, very uninhibited. We talked and acted that same way when we were having dinner, as when he was shooting me, as when we were giving each other hand-jobs, as when we got back to the car afterwards. The sexual stuff just wasn't any special, and THAT was very, very odd.

In a way, it is ideal. I had, and still have, no issues with having done what I did. I think we could have gone all the way and actually fucked (had T allowed it), and still I would not see that as a problem. There is truly no danger of getting emotionally entangled there, at least not if our relationship continues as it is now. It feels almost like when I'm fondling a woman: It's fun and nice, but there just aren't any emotions involved. I never expected to feel THIS disengaged when dealing with a man, but I must admit it's very practical.

On the other hand, it's also a bit boring. Yes, it felt good. Yes, it was very cool to be outside in the woods, naked and horny. Yes, he's obviously good at what he does (at least some of it). But I can get all this elsewhere too. From T. From Corvus. From myself, non the less. I think the main reason I found it a bit boring is because HE doesn't turn me on. He's a good guy who's nice to hang out with, but he doesn't turn me on. He's short. He enjoys running, and he's very fit. He's a bit too vanilla for my taste. He comes off as somewhat of a "knowitall" and so confident in himself that it's almost uncomfortable. That cool, controlled front of his makes him seem even more uninviting. He does warm up and let loose a bit when he's drunk, and I first got interested in him when he had drunk. So there's obviously something with him, something I can like, underneath that very controlled exterior. He just doesn't let it out when he's sober. At least not amongst people he doesn't know that well (like me).

I think the friendly, uncomplicated, tension-free feeling afterwards is partly from the fact that we both are in relationships and knew that this was only for fun. And partially because I'm not really attracted to him. He's not ugly or that unattractive, so it was fun to do the things we did... But that's also all that there was. I'm glad I did it, and if I get another chance to have a fotoshoot in the nude, I will grab it with both hands. It's fun.

Seeing as his fiancée is due to deliver their baby next week, I don't think I'll get the pictures anytime soon. Once I do get them, I will post a few of them here.