Tags: sex positive

Virgin-old

I'm a virgin, but this is an old post

I've stopped calling myself a virgin.

For much of my life, I've been calling myself a Proud Virgin, and it was utterly, completely true. I liked being a virgin, I planned to do it until I was married. I was, after all, not only asexual, but antisexual when I was thirteen and fourteen and fifteen and sixteen. All my friends were rushing into relationships, holding hands, kissing, groping, fingering, more and I was just firmly sitting on the sidelines, happy in my pretentious belief that one *really* didn't need sex to be happy, and throwing oneself away like that was just disgusting.

Even through my relationship with CrazyEx, where we were doing sexual things, I was still adamant in the fact that I was a virgin, and was planning to stay a virgin for a long time. Then, one day he called me on it. He said that, because of all the things we'd done, given each other orgasms curled up warm and naked in bed, he said he didn't think I was a virgin anymore. That I wasn't a virgin anymore.

(He later cited this as the turning point in our relationship, and it may well have been. I certainly was less inclined to sleep with him after that, distressed and hurt by his words and the shame of no longer being that which I so idolized. But that's somewhat of a different post.)

I was incredibly damaged by his words. Seventeen, maybe three months from turning eighteen, maybe five at that point, and this glorious beautiful ideal I had been holding for the last four years had just been torn from me. If I wasn't a virgin, I was clearly a slut, and I just couldn't deal with that. Not in application to me.

Fast forward two years. I'm nineteen now. I've become sexual, and in such a way that I can view it as natural, as something fun and worth doing and all those little reasons why people have sex in the first place. I still find the thought of thirteen and fourteen and fifteen and sixteen year olds having sex to be extremely frightening, but I no longer think of it with as much fervour and bile as I used to.

CrazyEx never took my virginity. I figured that out at some point --that he had absolutely no right to try and define who and what I was for me. That it was my job, and my choice to define myself, how I saw fit. We had sex, but he never deflowered me, we never had that last step between merely close and truly intimate.

Somewhere in the first six months of our relationship, I saw BelovedDude refer to herself as a nonvirgin in some meme or another. And that set me to thinking --of course she's not. If she's a lesbian (or a heterosexual male) and she's had sex with me, she has no reason to feel as though she's a virgin. Which would logically imply that I'm not a virgin either.

That realization didn't spook me nearly as much as CrazyEx's accusation. I still didn't feel like a nonvirgin, but at least I didn't feel the shame associated with the idea to nearly so much an extent. As 2008 went on, and I became more sexual, with more people and in more ways, my responses to people got more and more complicated.

"Well, yeah, I'm a virgin. My boyfriend and I have just kinda done everything but." This was later defined to me as a 'dirty virgin', a term I used for awhile, before finally dropping it.

Because honestly? I'm not a virgin anymore. I'm not pure, I'm not innocent, I'm not maidenly or unsoiled or any of that. I've never had a penis in my vagina, but I've had sex, fantastic, wonderful sex, with multiple people in multiple ways, and I've enjoyed it. I've actively sought it out. Forget the past tense, I do enjoy it, and I do actively seek it out.*

I suppose if anything, I'm closer to the traditional definition of a slut. And I'm okay with that.

I used to call myself a Proud Virgin. I think it's formally time to start calling myself a Proud Slut.




I feel it should be noted that the lack of PIV sex is not for lack of trying at the moment. Unfortunately for both of us, BelovedBoy's other girlfriend, GirlfriendInLaw, is having a particularly stressful semester at her school in another state, and, when he brought the topic up to her, said that she really didn't feel like she'd be able to handle both the fact that I get to see BelovedBoy more often than she does *and* have real live proper sex with him.

On the one hand, this really really pisses me off, because honestly? Sex is more than just sticking a penis in a vagina, and there are a good number of ways to do it that are just as beautiful and intimate and hot. Why should just that one be off-limits to me? But I do understand that it's a closeness thing, and a societal norm to be the most important and significant part of sex, and I can see where she's coming from with this. It's not like I was in any particular rush to have my cherry properly popped.

I will be *incredibly* amused though if BelovedDude gets ahold of that feeldoe she wants, and she gets to take my v-card before BelovedBoy ever does.

*I am not, however, having sex at the time of this writing. Unfortunately.
xkcd sex

...except maybe bein' loved by someone else.

And where did I leave off in my stories? Of course. Sunday, during a hard day of masturbation. Glorious, beautiful, masturbation.

The roommates never did simultaneously vanish again that night, which is a shame. Of course, instead, I was given the opportunity to go over to the house of BelovedBoy. So horny that the act of walking, the feel of my panties, my jeans, rubbing up against me is driving me mad. So horny I can't think, not of anything but of sex and want.

"How are you?" he asks.
"Frustrated." I reply.

At some point we hug, and the mere feel of his body, muffled by all his clothes and mine, is almost enough to make me whine in desperation. I do not make it an hour before I ask. "Do you want to have sex?" Direct, much more than usual. That happens when you feel ready to set your crotch on fire by the fury of your humping.

There is uncertainty. Flesh is weak but the spirit willing sort of thing. "We'll see." it amounts to. If he's awake enough. Worst possible answer he could give me --at least if he had said no, I could have forced my libido into silence. Or masturbated like it was going out of style.

Well.
He was awake enough.

We were lying, side by side, cuddling in the darkness before sleep. His hand holding mine, down between our legs. And with one glorious swift movement, one sharp shift, we've gone from cuddling to more. His fingers are no longer gently running over my hand. They're running over my thigh, and I'll be damned if I didn't practically cum right there and then.

I am a lady, after all, and I try to give just as good as I get. We bring each other closer and closer to the edges, and cum within moments of each other. It is, in a word, amazing.

As he's drying on my hands, I realize his fingers are quite still quite firm inside me, stretching me out to my furthest. Three fingers, which sounds like such a small number, until one remembers that I am still technically a virgin and quite... tight.

He extracts himself, slowly and gloriously. And pressing warm against each other, we drift away into sleep.
xkcd sex

Ain't no lovin' like self-lovin'

Who would've thought that all it took for me to have a day of just mind-shatteringly good sex was for all my significant others to be inaccessible. BelovedBoy is out of town, and BelovedDude has not been online and FatherMaster is busy and ComplicatedBoy and I aren't having sex anymore*. ExEx and I were never sexual, and Regret is being monoamorous for his girlfriend, which is quite sweet of him.

Leaving me, in an unusual turn of fate, quite on my own this weekend.

Add to the mix the fact that two of my three roommates are away, and a sexually open lesbian friend of mine is lending me "The Whole Lesbian Sex Book" --sex positive, masturbation positive, and just enough anecdotes to be incredibly hot.

So I sit there. Alone. The third roommate has gone out for food, leaving little old me without anything to distract myself with but the entirety of the internet (Vintage Seduction, anyone?) and my trusty little mini bullet vibe.

And a terribly smug grin.

I denote a silky smooth skirt to be my sacrifice to the gods of mess, and let myself get to work...ah glorious. Fabric and fingers sliding against me, my vibrator hard at work...it is a beautiful mess.

I managed to cum twice before the roommate came home, and then again in the shower I originally took to clean myself up. Four is waiting for her to go back out to dinner.

It's a glorious sort of nice.




*Which is a shame, because physically, he's quite good. But mentally, he was simply Not Right, and the complete wrongness of the situation was causing my head to jibber. We kiss and sleep entwined in each others arms every other week or so, which is quite nice for me, and not at all for him. He is mature enough to deal, however.
Touch Everyone

Happy Poly Moments

Happy Poly Moment of the night:

I was curled up with ComplicatedBoy and ComplicatedGirl, at first just cuddling, and being friendly. But as is wont to happen when everyone involved is somewhat attracted to everyone else, we began to get a little more friendly with our touches and caressing.

At one point, ComplicatedGirl bursts out laughing at me. At first, she refuses to say why, but I insist.

She just looks straight at me, and says one word: "Unicorn!"

Our giggles were only intensified by the fact that poor ComplicatedBoy had no idea what we were going on about.
Virgin-old

Always fun to sit next to your nice sweet quiet roommate and pass around vibrators

Today at my college, we had a sex toy party. It was about fifty college students packed into a room, while these two thirtiesish women showed us a nice array of assorted products, mostly in the hopes that we'd buy a few.

Now, I have a perfectly wonderful magic bullet vibrator that FatherMaster bought for me before I went home for the summer, and I like it quite a bit --I get sexed up often enough by other people that I don't really need to do anything on my own, and when I do, my two hands work just fine. But still...it's nice to occasionally have a bit of a boost.

The vibrator I own is a mini bullet vibe, that runs off what appear to be three watch batteries. One speed, nothing fancy, and quite nice. But sometimes, I think I would rather like, oh, something a little bit...more.

Like a vibrator I could plug into my ipod. (BelovedDude is aurally oriented as well, so that could be good fun for the whole family!) Or vibrating nipple clamps.

Alas, I am poor. Sigh.