This is a confession of sorts but also a cry for help. I think about myself in reference to kink and sex and realize that I associate submission and service with being feminine. I associate beauty, weakness, and delicacy with being feminine. And I also realize that I am so terrified of being seen as anything other than feminine that I put up some strange defenses against this.

Case study A: Ariel

Ariel is my gorgeous girlfriend. She is beautiful and petite and has long flowing hair. She moves gracefully on high heels. She also has a powerful job in a male-dominated industry and changes car batteries and asserts herself aggressively in conversations. She looks high femme but has always thought of herself as butch. Still, when I touch her I sometimes feel huge, ham-fisted, rough, and all-together ugly. I know she longs for me and I fail her because I don’t know how to be. On the one hand, strapping on a pretty dildo and fucking her for hours sounds like pure bliss but I know that getting to that point will be full of second-guessing myself and my desires and my actions.

Am I being entirely heterosexist in my view of this sexual relationship? Abso-fucking-lutely! Because she is feminine, I feel masculine. (We won’t even get into the terrible fact that I associate masculinity [on myself!] with ugliness) I don’t want to feel this way. It isn’t enlightened, it isn’t sex positive. I wouldn’t teach it to my students. But it infects my reality and I don’t know how to deprogram it.

Case study B: Michael

[Note: This section has been edited for nuance. The lack it previously exhibited, though, is likely symptomatic of my issues with binary thinking.]

Michael is a petite man. We are the same height and I outweigh him significantly. When we first met I didn’t think the relationship would work because of this. I thought I would feel huge and be self-conscious and afraid. So I submitted myself to him. He felt like he was capable of being in charge and I let him be. Even if I couldn’t be delicate and small by comparison physically, I knew I could shrink myself mentally. It works out well that he has discovered enjoyment of beating me until I cry, pulling my hair, grabbing my throat. (Again we won’t get into how fucked up it is that my way of feeling feminine involves simulated victimization) Even when I am initiating sex with him, it feels like an act of service and devotion. He often gives me feedback on how to touch and where and when. I siddle up to him and slither a limb around his body. I kiss gently. The touches are a seduction and they are a worship and only in my most wanton and least self-conscious moments do I allow myself to be aggressive and take up space.

Taking up space

I haven’t really defined what this means to me just yet. You may have guessed some of it by now, though. I think of it in terms of physical space – my body is larger and I attempt to diminish that regularly. I also think of it terms of political space – my voice should be smaller, my needs should be less important, my desires should be locked away.

This might seem ridiculous to some of you that have met me or read this blog. Of course I take up space in terms of talking about sex. Here I am now with this presence on the internet. Blabbing, opining, discussing in detail, issuing edicts and judgments and ideas. But some of that strength leaves me when I’m making love to some of the people I adore most in the world.

I know that every relationship goes through growing pains and these are no exception, but this issue feels bigger and scarier and more about me being fucked in the head than any I have run into before. So, dear reader, tell me what you think. How do I get my theory to line up with my practice? How do I deschool myself of gender? How do I embrace femininity in a way that doesn’t make me need to masculinize others? How have you done it or how do you wish you could?

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April – Where I attended Sex 2.0 and had a fire lit under me. I started a Twitter account, got involved with FetLife, and relaunched my podcast. I finally realized that I was part of a community and felt like I belonged.

June – I spent a lot of time thinking about sex work in both text and audio forms. I also got sort of pissy and ridiculous about blogging and met Artemis Hunter for the first time.

July – I had my first freelance work published in The Naughty American and dug up some old camwhore shots. I also experienced a bit of heartbreak, but it turned out a great piece of writing if I do say so myself. I also got tied up by Artemis and finally hooked up with Carmine who had previously only been known as “cross-dressing law student“. Finally, I began publishing the Musings on Masculinity series.

September – I was named #5 on the list of the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2008 among started a bajillion other projects. We also went to Dark Odyssey Summer Camp which was a watershed event for me despite the fact that I haven’t talked about it too much. I also presented at the Fetish Fair Flea Market and got to meet Catalina and Marky for the first time.

November -  . . . soon I found more detailed words and images to express my thoughts. I captured the unique sadomasochistic relationship that Michael and I have developed as well as the experienced of being fucked by Ariel for the first time. And the sexy gave way to the mundanely profound as we found ourselves forming a type of family, broken hollondaise and all.

December – Ariel starts lending a hand with reviews and I think that the format suits this site. Jay and I also visited New York and saw tons of the friends that we met through the year. I also spent a sedate Birthday and Hanukkah at home with my new chosen family.

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“This feels amazing, darling.”

Her only response is an angelic smile and I suddenly feel grateful. Profoundly so.

I can’t say that her movements were like thrusts. We rocked together. Happy, content, clinging.

Jay’s hand is stroking my hair and forehead and Michael is behind Ariel caressing her curves and then. . . something more. As her reactions increase in intensity, I’m overcome with curiousity. I look up at Michael, trying to catch his glance but I find myself rocked by an intense thrust and lose track of my objective.

“What is he doing to you, sweet girl?”

Her lips are clamped shut and she is concentrating. When my voice breaks her reverrie she can only look at me with a look of concern and mild alarm. I wait patiently for a response but she just nods.

“Oh sweetie, please tell me what he is doing?”

My objective has just changed. I know I can ask one of the men for this piece of information but my new desire it to hear something filthy come from Ariel’s pretty lips.

Between gasps as the dildo slides into me, I keep enough composure to tease her mercilessly. Taunting her to speak.

“Is he playing with your pussy? Is he fucking you?”

By now the boys have figured out what I was up to and Michael helpfully suggests that she is speechless. I had noticed.

But, as the enormity of this moment sets in on me and as I felt my impending climax, I am suddenly happy for the silence. I cling to her harder, holding onto something about the particular, precious sliver of time and know that, despite her lack of words, she is speaking to me with grace, precision, and deep affection.

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Post tags: ariel, bisexual, foursome, jay, michael, strap-on

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Despite the plethora of experiences that I did have, I am going to start with one that I didn’t. A gangbang.

It was Sunday afternoon, laying around in the pool, that I got the idea that I wanted to have a gangbang. Just by merit of timing, the idea was already ill-fated but Jay tried to organize it for me. Needless to say, most people had pretty full dance cards and getting that many cocks to convene in one place at camp was, well, not going to happen.

But, in the spirit of better luck next time, let me tell you a bit about what I have in mind.

I want to be violated by multiple people in a way that is really quite beyond my control. I first got a taste for this during our playful threesomes with Ian. He and Jay often pin me down and tickle me and molest me. It is fun and sexy and I struggle, giggle, and moan. But what if I screamed and cried and begged them to stop? It could go either way. The reality is that I have two tall, strong men pinning me down and doing what they want to me.

I got to thinking that I really love this, the feel of my muscles straining against their power. Knowing that I can’t get away, can’t stop it from occurring. The ability to let go because there is nowhere else to go. Sure, I’m a rope slut and I like bondage of all sorts but actually being restrained by another person, unable to fight them off, is a totally different thing.

Suddenly the attention is divided. I can’t just think about the hand mauling my pussy or the teeth biting my nipples but instead have to focus on the fingers wrapped around my arm, squeezing tight enough to bruise. Or perhaps the knees pressed against my thigh, forcing my legs apart so that my unwilling wetness is revealed. And they can’t just focus on what they are doing to me, their animalism has to come out and it becomes just as much about the struggle as the sex.

The idea of multiple people making this happen for me, taking turns pinning me down and keeping my subdued while their companions touch me in every way they can imagine is an overwhelming urge. They can be faceless and nameless. I could be blindfolded or not. The details, the humans involved don’t matter. I am interested in arms and hands, mouths and cocks just as they should not be interested in me in this moment, just my sex, just what my warm and wet holes can offer them.

Fantasies like this are scary to some people. The lack of consent is alarming. There are feminists that would have some choice (or perhaps condescending) words for me. But it is mine and I own it. And I look forward, perhaps too eagerly, to the day that I can make it a reality.

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Post tags: BDSM, bondage, consensual non-consent, fantasy, group sex, Sex, takedown

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Download Bedroom Radio #21

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He also wrote this gorgeous post about our play with Hania last week. Sigh. I will certainly be recounting the experience from my perspective as well but reading it from his was fun. While we were all together, I kept looking up at him and smiling. He was a bystander some of the time but he never lost the look of wonder and delight from his eyes. He is such a treasure to have as a lover and best friend.

Here are a few of his words:

Hania motioned for me to help her out of her top, then her bra. Her breasts, while smaller than Ellie’s, were very large for Hania’s small frame and quite perky. The dark almond colored areolas that we thought we saw the month before were even more sexy than Ellie and I had imagined (trust me, we spent a few nights in bed talking about Hania’s lovely body).

Ellie laid down on her back and Hania straddled her playing with her breasts. They rubbed their bodies together, kissed, sucked, and licked for almost an hour before Hania started pulling Ellie’s panties off.

I wish I had a better vantage point so I could give a play-by-play. The only thing I can say for sure is that the three of us all seemed to be enjoying ourselves. Hania’s slurping and kissing, Ellie’s moans, and my angelic expression probably express the feelings of the moment better than a verbose description could.

This weekend, we’ll be going out of town for a very impromptu weekend with Artemis and Jeff. She called me last night and we agreed that when Artemis asks for your attendance, you do what you can to make it happen. We should come home with new stories to tell and some brand new rope skills. Rope skills that I hope to use and continue improving at Dark Odyssey in a few weeks.

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Post tags: hania, hnt, jay, love

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Take note! You can get a 10% discount on your order at Vibe Review if you shop through this link!

I picked the Charmer one key reason, it is slender. See, Jay has a tight little butt and he worries about toys that are big. So we stick to small ones at our house and are usually very happy campers.

The Charmer did not let us down. It has a very unique shape to it with undulating waves that provide pleasant sensations with thrusting. The toy is tapered at the top which made it a great option for anal penetration. We had no trouble with slow insertion and used it with both him on top and me on top.

So what about quality? The Charmer is made by Tantus, one of the leading manufacturers of silicone toys. It is made out of 100% medical grade silicone. I shouldn’t have to repeat why that is a crucial feature but let me give you the high points: non-porous, sterilizeable, and firm.

We tried out the Charmer with the Corsette Harness (that I reviewed earlier). The flared base allowed it to lock snugly into one of the O-rings and it stayed firmly in place for as long as we needed it to. This toy, as VibeReview suggests, is a great option for strap-on play. I would especially suggest it for beginners because the size is quite manageable.

But, the Charmer has other applications. It can be used for very enjoyable vaginal penetration. I enjoyed the shape of the toy and felt that every inch of my insides was being massaged by its lovely and unique shape. This is a high quality and versatile toy for a variety of applications, it would be a welcome addition to any collection.

Take note! You can get a 10% discount on your order at Vibe Review if you shop through this link!

© Ellie for Ellie Lumpesse: A Pretentious Pervert, 2008. | Permalink | One comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: charmer, dildo, harness compatible, strap-on

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Sometime during a procrastination break, I find myself telling her about my sexual proclivities and my phone sex work. She smiles and asks a lot of questions. Then sho bowls me over by revealing that she used to do phone sex work while she lived in London. Here I thought that Hania, a Syrian, might be free-spirited but was another oppressed middle eastern woman. My prejudices were obvious to me almost immediately.

The next week, she came over to our house for a potluck. When the rest of the guests left, she didn’t and the three of us talked late into the night.

I can break the nearly 24 hours we spent together into distinct moments, all of them characterized by arousal and many of them by a distinct longing.

***
She is on my couch and we are discussing sex (what else?) and it is 4am. I am falling asleep and I also desperately want to reach out and touch her. Her breasts are over-spilling her shirt and I think she knows this and doesn’t fix it on purpose. I can even see the top of one dark areola and I try not to stare too much.

***
After a conversation on rope bondage, she agrees to be tied up. The morning sunlight is streaming into the guest room and her hair is wet from the shower. I nervously apply the katana over her clothes. Her chest is still heaving in the shirt she was wearing the night before. Despite the intimacy I nervously apologize each time I brush against her but she looks at me angelically.

In a bold moment, I show her what the Japanese refer to as dishevelment and pull the top of her tank top down to reveal her pink bra.

***

I am in her kitchen and she thrusts a porcelain dish under my nose, “Smell!”

“Za’atar?”

“Yes, you know it? My mother sends it to me”

Three days later I find myself in my own kitchen, mixing a batch of the pungent spice blend. Sumac, paprika, cumin, and thyme. I inhale it deeply and remember her.

***

I am sitting on her couch and and she is reading my fortune from the grounds in my Turkish coffee. We are leaning our heads together and I can smell her and I want to cry because I want her so badly.

***

Last weekend we saw Hania again. She had spent a month out of town and was emailing me and calling me several times a week just to talk. I knew she wanted us but I was so nervous. For now, I’m treasuring that night and keeping it to myself. You, dear reader, can enjoy the same anticipation that I did. Hopefully by the time I write the rest of the story, she will have given me permission to publish the picture of her in my ropes.

Want to know what Jay was thinking through all of this? His version was posted this week.

© Ellie for Ellie Lumpesse: A Pretentious Pervert, 2008. | Permalink | 4 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: Bisexuality, bondage, cooking, Sex

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Jay is an incredibly special person and his answers here were not news to me. But reading them has made me feel closer to him. His memories and recollections are, like many of the men I have featured, heart-breaking, thought-provoking, and raw.

When was the first time you remember being aware of masculinity? How old were you? What was the cultural climate or influence?

My earliest childhood memories (ages 2-3) are of my father physically abusing my mother. The ensuing conversations that transpired between my mother and I told me in no uncertain terms all of the negative traits that made a man.

Growing up with a single mother and 2 sisters I never really trusted any men enough to let them have a positive effect on my view of masculinity. As a child I was more submissive and feminine than most of my peers and certainly less masculine than my tom-boy sister.

Do you think of yourself as masculine? Why or why not?

Now I feel a lot more masculine than I did as a child, but I’m still a very passive person in general.

I know that many people have read about my sexual experiences online and have commented to the effect of “You’re such a man, you know what you want and you go after it.” Of course they don’t know me and the fact that I am a kind, shy, passive, gentle person (or at least they look over those facts as I do try to write about them).

How does your masculinity relate to your sexuality (be it your orientation, preferences, or expressions)?

I’m the quiet, shy, rebellious type (wait, is there a type like that?). I look for any way I can to play with people’s traditional concepts whether it is family values, religion, or sexuality/gender. My orientation is bisexual, although right now I’m swinging back toward heteroflexible.

In kink play, BDSM, and parties I prefer to dress up as a woman and take a dominant role (which is a lot of fun since I have a very full beard). At a recent party I was dressed as Jackie O and spent most of my “play time” whipping the bejesus out of a tiny little woman in front of a rather large audience… if that gives you any idea ;)

© Ellie for Ellie Lumpesse: A Pretentious Pervert, 2008. | Permalink | 15 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: abuse, BDSM, cross-dressing, feminist, gender, Masculinity, Sex, violence

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Anyone that has been following my Twitter lately knows that I’ve got a pretty serious crush on Thursday’s Child. Sure, all of us flirt on there, but this one is real. I am so lucky to have met Thursday and D and to count them as close friends. I’ve watched them go through struggles and growth over the last few months and I’ve been honored to be a friend to them. Jay and I hope to meet them very soon – plane tickets will be ordered one of these days and we will have them to ourselves.

Lately, Thursday and I have been leaving each other fun little voicemails to titillate and amuse. I’ve mostly been playful, sexy, and tried to have fun. This morning, though, I woke up and had a message from her. It had come in the middle of the night and I had a feeling it would be special. I was right. I knew I couldn’t do the sexiness of this message justice by just describing it. No, my dear audiophiles, you deserve to hear it. Grab the headphones!

Thursday’s Voicemail to Me

You back? Shaking like I was? When I first met Thursday I was instantly attracted to her, we are so similar in so many ways and she felt like the sister I never had. Except, I suppose most people don’t want to do to their sisters what I want to do to her. I have the same curiosities about her skin and her body. We have already warned the boys that they may have to sit calmly in the corner as we focus on each other. They might whine but it will be worth it.

© Ellie for Ellie Lumpesse: A Pretentious Pervert, 2008. | Permalink | 7 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: Phone sex, sexy audio, sexy message, thursday's child, voicemail

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This next interview is from Wanton Male who is a bisexual blogger. He has been writing about sex online for a long time and I’m thrilled and honored that he took the time to respond to my questions. His responses reflect some of the same trepidation and confusion about masculinity that all of the men so far have expressed.

When was the first time you remember being aware of masculinity? How old were you? What was the cultural climate or influence?
This is a tough one for my shoddy memory. I can’t conciously remember an exact moment. I guess I grew up in a fairly typical, nuclear family, my father being my role model in that regard. Dad was in charge, fixed things around the house, mowed the yard, played sports and whatnot.

As far as noting the differences between the sexes, I noticed how my parents were different and certainly played my fair share of “show me yours, I’ll show you mine” throughout my youth with both girls and boys. Funnily enough, I’m still playing that game.

I grew up in the 70s and was a service brat. My father was an officer and pilot in the Air Force, so certainly some influences there. That certainly added to my observations of masculinity, as I was exposed to a healthier than average dose of discipline and structure. Plus, my dad flew planes, how manly is that?

Do you think of yourself as masculine? Why or why not?
My first inclination is to waffle, and say, yes and no. However, if forced to choose one, AND be honest, I have to say no.

One of the main aspects of masculinity, in my mind at least, is the physicality of it. I’ve never been a big guy. I’m average height and have always been towards the skinny side, even in my younger days. Back then though, I would have said yes. I was smallish, but I was resilient, I was scrappy. These days I am shell of that.

For the last 15 years I have been fighting severe rheumatoid arthritis. I’ve had multiple operations replacing joints that have been destroyed by my disease. I won’t say I am frail, but I am certainly weakened, and most definitely limited in what I can do physically. So in that regard, it has definitely been emasculating.

Emotionally, I probably lean towards feminine. It’s cliche, but I am in touch with my feelings, and don’t run screaming from them. Not exactly masculine there. I’m kind, nice, empathetic, and I enjoy talking, all of which makes me very popular with women. I make a great girlfriend apparently.

Which leads me to sexually. I am incredibly sexual. I may be chatting sweetly with the ladies but I am thinking about how I could be fucking them. My sex drive is high, and usually stays there. I fully fit the bill of masculinity here.

There are myriad other things where I am masculine. Intellectually I’m logical, practical, and rational. I can be aggressive, dominating and demanding. I’m not the breadwinner of our household, but I do make the majority of the decisions.

So there we go. I am a conflicting and chaotic example of masculinity. Certainly no poster child for it.

How does your masculinity relate to your sexuality (be it your orientation, preferences, or expressions)?
I honestly don’t know. I am bisexual with limited experience on the bi side. I actually kinda just like thinking of myself as just really sexual and a sensualist. I wanna have fun, and I’m not particular with which side of the fence it is.

In bed with women, I tend to take a laid back, have fun attitude, unless I am purposefully being aggressive. Except when it comes to pleasing her. I damn well want her to come, and as many times as possible, but is that related to masculinity? Beats me.

Interestingly enough, with men, so far at least, I seem to be the top. Which honestly is not, how I figured it would be. Will this change as I have more experiences, I cannot say, but I’m not bothered with it either way. I’m just looking for a good time.

© Ellie for Ellie Lumpesse: A Pretentious Pervert, 2008. | Permalink | 8 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: Bisexuality, bloggers, mascunity

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