I was 47 when I recognised that I wasn’t exactly as straight
as I’d heretofore assumed. Now, I flatter myself that I’m about as liberal,
open-minded and sex-positive a human as you could hope to meet in normal life,
and given that I’ve been pretty open on the kink scene for about 4 years, my ‘normal’
casts a pretty wide net. But no, as far as I was concerned up to that point, I
was comfortable counting a pretty wide variety of LGBTQ+ people within my
friendship group, openly and on Facebook, but it really wasn’t my thing.
Except. Except … Except lots of things, as it turns out. My fiancée
Helena knew. She’d always kind of known, and there were lots of bits of our
play that had dropped some pretty broad hints. I was quite happy to slip into a
little pleated tartan skirt and take photos to send her, entirely because she ‘needed
a laugh and a bit of cheering up’; when I was in San Francisco, I went
underwear shopping in the Castro and browsed Grindr (strictly for research); I
thoroughly enjoyed anal play (although I found it a difficult thing to ask
for). I still deny that my willingness and ability to run up a set of curtains for
me and lacy underwear for her on her sewing machine is an indicator.
For this Sinful Sunday, I’m using one of the photos I took for #FishnetsFriday this week, and I’m really feeling the need to up my selfie game! You know how you read about people spending half a day trying to capture that one perfect unposed shot that they can filter the shit out of and post as their best self?
Yeah, I don’t have time for that stuff, but I am learning about, for example, making sure the bedside table is going to be out of shot when I’ve finished editing (especially if I havent tidied recently and there’s a bottle of lube, 3 novels and a gram of weed on it), keeping the selfie stick out of shot, and angles, baby … nobody wants those middle aged jowels in the frame …
Anyway, what I’m absolutely fucking loving about taking these is that I’ve now given myself permission to take sexy photos of myself, see the sexiness in them and to share them with Helena – she’s been sending me these since we first met, in fact her profile pic on my phone is one that she sent me of her stocking top and cream and navy polkadot dress from the train as she was coming down for our first proper date.
So, here it is, gender-fuckery fun, taken with the specific intention of making someone else horny and wanting to fuck me.
I got up at the first buzz of the alarm this morning, rather than snoozing 4, or 5, or 6 times. You’ve done this for me more times than I can remember, and I’ve loved it, every single fucking time, but it’s never felt like a thing I could do for you. My body – men’s bodies – just aren’t made for this kind of sexy play. It feels different today. I can do this for you, and I know you’re going to love it, and I feel a new confidence in myself.
My body is sexy, not because of its youth, or its finely chiselled contours (because it has neither), but because I love you with it, with every inch of it, and you love it. That is the only acceptance I need. The same patriarchy that tells you that you’re not good enough also tells me that I can’t look at myself that way at all. Fuck. That. Shit. Continue reading Kink of the Week – Men in Panties