Well, here I go, I re-booked at the tattooist for tonight, and I have 2 options. If I am not brave enough for the one on my twat, (which thinking about it, might really hurt!), then I have another one I will have done on my back, to add to one that is there already. I am the kind of person that always feels easier with another option or a back-out plan.
Whatever, I need more ink. It's an addiction. Endorphins, pain, self-image, submitting my body to a guy all covered in tattoos, I don't know, but it is. There is definitely a sexual element to it for me. I find tattoos and tattooists hot. Some, not all, obviously. Tattooists are very unapologetic about their likes and tastes, and very masculine, usually.
I dated a tattooist for a while, so hung out in his studio a lot, and got to see some really crazy shit people wanted. He had limits though, on what he would do, and sometimes would send people away to rethink, which I loved! He had a lot of integrity and was an amazing tattooist. He was a great fuck, too. I found out what pierced tongues are really for!
That's another topic I haven't talked about. I don't like oral sex. (Except that guy! I will make an exception there!) Oh, don't get me wrong, I LOVE to give, sucking cock is fantastic, but don't like to receive. At best it makes me stare up at the ceiling, and at worst, it can be fucking uncomfortable, frankly. Husband spent a lot of time down there, and I don't miss that. He wasn't so bad, but I really never got off on that. Never. Or hand jobs, come to that. Same thing. It's just a really sensitive area, and you have to be careful down there! I confess I have faked that more than once, just to get it over with. Which is kind of counter-objective, isn't it? If they think you enjoyed it, they're going to do it next time.
I don't think I've ever really had the courage to tell a guy what I really like, or to tell them if I don't like a thing. That's going to change. I am going to be a lot more up front about it, I am a different person now than I was last time I had to go through all that and establish with Husband what I liked and didn't like. I think I let him spend a lot of time going down on me, because he loves it so much. IF we ever hook back up again, I will have to straighten that one out.
Lots of reasons, fear of appearing weird, and not liking what I'm 'supposed' to like. Fear of offending him, and telling him that I actually don't like something he's been doing for years. Fear of really asking for what I want out of life in general, I suppose. Fear of denying him what he likes. Fear that it's not really that nice down there when you're up close to it. I mean, silly as this one sounds, I don't like pussy, why should he? All kinds of stupid fears.
You know what really does it for me? Being allowed to rub myself up against a hard cock. It's mostly all clitoris stimulation for me. And guys mostly, in my experience, don't manage to get that right. And I like different speed and pressure at different moments, and even if guys DO manage to figure out what I like, I don't always like it the same way. So I like to control that, and get myself there, thanks.
It's funny, isn't it? I only learned about clits fairly late in my sexual education. I always thought I was a freak, because I had this thing that wasn't up my vagina, and was more into that than actual fucking. It also took me quite a while to connect sex with what I was doing to myself, and that orgasm was a possibility when fucking. It took me years to find out that that's totally normal.
How much damage these anti-education assholes leave in their wake, even mothers or teachers that don't tell us all but the basic facts, and how much more I knew than a lot of other girls!! That scares the shit out of me. My sex ed classes in school were really pretty poor, and my mother literally never told me a thing, as I remember. I learned most of it from my friends, and like I said, I was one of the ones who knew the most!
Nobody ever told me that I would have juices coming out of me either, and that started happening when I was about 10, I think, and I thought there was something wrong with me until I was about 15, probably. I was so ashamed and embarrassed about these stains appearing in my underwear.
Holy shit, it just makes me want to cry to think about that.
Master said recently that I was sexually complicated, and I denied it, but shit, I am. I really am.
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