No, its not the second part of self realizations yet. I still have not been able to write it, and am waiting until I can. It isn't something I want to force. Being able to write freely is important to me and I don't like to try and write about something unless I am ready and in the right mindset.
I was writing more here, but it transitioned into something else and I have decided it is more appropriate for my other blog, so when I am done I will post it over there and will continue to wait for the write time to finish my self realization story. Once I get beyond that story I am hoping I will be able to open more and explore my sexuality (which is a topic I think about all the time: how to negotiate it, how to understand it, how not to label it, what it even is).
But more on that later, I was on to something before...
More later (soon I hope)
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Self realizations
Realizing that I was not heterosexual was one of the most monumental discoveries of my entire life. This discovery may have taken 21 years, but that is sooner than many people come to this realization (and I am a firm believer that many never even admit it to themselves).
We all have our own "realization" stories and I would love to hear others'—I think these are important and life-changing stories, so I would like to share my own.
I was a 21 year old, self-confident, outgoing, adventurous young woman when I finally acknowledged that I might not be the good Christian girl my parents long for me to be (well… I might have known that I wasn’t a good Christian girl a few years before that, but definitely not to the degree I learned that fateful summer in Massachusetts). I was a counselor at a summer camp on Cape Cod when I met the most incredible person I had ever encountered. D was one-of-a-kind and we clicked almost immediately; by the end of the first week of camp we had become inseparable. D and I quickly developed one of the closest most intense friendships I had ever had. We spent every free moment together (which wasn’t as much as we would have liked since we were both working at a summer camp, and I happened to live in a cabin with two other counselors and twelve middle-school aged girls five days a week). But we made do, and those eight weeks became some of the most memorable I will ever have.
I am not completely sure when the first time was that I recognized that D and I might be more than friends. This realization definitely took longer than it should have for both of us—other people at camp picked up on it before we did. Whenever I would stay at D’s family’s Cape house (so three nights a week for me) we would share her single bed; this didn’t seem too strange since there were not many other available places to sleep. But several weeks into our “friendship” (as my mom is still sometimes known to call it), I would get these strange urges to kiss her as we were lying in bed together. At first I didn’t really acknowledge these feelings (and definitely didn’t consider acting upon them), but the urges got more and more intense the more time I spent with D. I would lie next to her in the tiny bed, so close I could feel her breath on my mouth. We would sleep with our faces literally inches a part. She had to feel it too.
One night as we were lying in that bed and having some deep, serious conversation D kissed my forehead. I was ecstatic, but not completely sure how to take it. Does she think of me as a really good friend, like a sister, or is it more than that? A kiss on the forehead is so hard to read. But I knew what I had to do—so I mustered up the courage and gave her a quick peck. (No it wasn’t my first girl-girl kiss, but it was the first one that meant something to me). We soon began kissing a lot (only pecks of course, and only when we were lying in that bed), but we told ourselves, and each other, that this wasn’t weird because we were such good friends (HA!).
Soon the pecks turned into a sort of licking game where she would try and get her tongue in and out of mouth before I caught it (which I always did). This behavior persisted for a week or so, before one day D accidentally made out with me… Accidentally or not, I responded with, “Well, I guess that means I will have to accidentally make out with you.”
Looking back at this whole situation brings such a smile to my face, I felt like a teenager with my hormones raging. I didn’t know how to feel about what was going on and I didn’t know anyone else at camp well enough to discuss it with. I still feel a little silly about how everything happened, but this is the truth and I can’t deny it (nor would I really want to).
After the accidental make out, we pretty much started kissing as much as we could. We would take hour-long naps whenever we could and kiss the entire time. D and I were both so new to this and everything was so exciting. We would lie there next to each other holding hands, kissing, stroking each others’ smooth, feminine bodies—and for the first time I thought, “this is what I have been missing.” It was amazing, eye opening, and completely life changing.
It wasn’t long before I discovered my fascination with breasts. Now I always knew there was something about a woman’s boobs that just amazed me, but I honestly didn’t think it was any different admiration than the next person had for them—our society (especially the media) seems to be quite taken by breasts, so I thought my interest in them was completely normal… Turns out, its not. I LOVE BOOBS! (I tried to type breasts there, but it just wasn’t right). They fascinate me in every way imaginable, and I didn’t fully appreciate this until I met D.
Well, I have much more to say on this self-realization story (as well as on boobs), but it is nearly 3:00 am and I have a half-naked woman in my bed. So more on this, another time!
We all have our own "realization" stories and I would love to hear others'—I think these are important and life-changing stories, so I would like to share my own.
I was a 21 year old, self-confident, outgoing, adventurous young woman when I finally acknowledged that I might not be the good Christian girl my parents long for me to be (well… I might have known that I wasn’t a good Christian girl a few years before that, but definitely not to the degree I learned that fateful summer in Massachusetts). I was a counselor at a summer camp on Cape Cod when I met the most incredible person I had ever encountered. D was one-of-a-kind and we clicked almost immediately; by the end of the first week of camp we had become inseparable. D and I quickly developed one of the closest most intense friendships I had ever had. We spent every free moment together (which wasn’t as much as we would have liked since we were both working at a summer camp, and I happened to live in a cabin with two other counselors and twelve middle-school aged girls five days a week). But we made do, and those eight weeks became some of the most memorable I will ever have.
I am not completely sure when the first time was that I recognized that D and I might be more than friends. This realization definitely took longer than it should have for both of us—other people at camp picked up on it before we did. Whenever I would stay at D’s family’s Cape house (so three nights a week for me) we would share her single bed; this didn’t seem too strange since there were not many other available places to sleep. But several weeks into our “friendship” (as my mom is still sometimes known to call it), I would get these strange urges to kiss her as we were lying in bed together. At first I didn’t really acknowledge these feelings (and definitely didn’t consider acting upon them), but the urges got more and more intense the more time I spent with D. I would lie next to her in the tiny bed, so close I could feel her breath on my mouth. We would sleep with our faces literally inches a part. She had to feel it too.
One night as we were lying in that bed and having some deep, serious conversation D kissed my forehead. I was ecstatic, but not completely sure how to take it. Does she think of me as a really good friend, like a sister, or is it more than that? A kiss on the forehead is so hard to read. But I knew what I had to do—so I mustered up the courage and gave her a quick peck. (No it wasn’t my first girl-girl kiss, but it was the first one that meant something to me). We soon began kissing a lot (only pecks of course, and only when we were lying in that bed), but we told ourselves, and each other, that this wasn’t weird because we were such good friends (HA!).
Soon the pecks turned into a sort of licking game where she would try and get her tongue in and out of mouth before I caught it (which I always did). This behavior persisted for a week or so, before one day D accidentally made out with me… Accidentally or not, I responded with, “Well, I guess that means I will have to accidentally make out with you.”
Looking back at this whole situation brings such a smile to my face, I felt like a teenager with my hormones raging. I didn’t know how to feel about what was going on and I didn’t know anyone else at camp well enough to discuss it with. I still feel a little silly about how everything happened, but this is the truth and I can’t deny it (nor would I really want to).
After the accidental make out, we pretty much started kissing as much as we could. We would take hour-long naps whenever we could and kiss the entire time. D and I were both so new to this and everything was so exciting. We would lie there next to each other holding hands, kissing, stroking each others’ smooth, feminine bodies—and for the first time I thought, “this is what I have been missing.” It was amazing, eye opening, and completely life changing.
It wasn’t long before I discovered my fascination with breasts. Now I always knew there was something about a woman’s boobs that just amazed me, but I honestly didn’t think it was any different admiration than the next person had for them—our society (especially the media) seems to be quite taken by breasts, so I thought my interest in them was completely normal… Turns out, its not. I LOVE BOOBS! (I tried to type breasts there, but it just wasn’t right). They fascinate me in every way imaginable, and I didn’t fully appreciate this until I met D.
Well, I have much more to say on this self-realization story (as well as on boobs), but it is nearly 3:00 am and I have a half-naked woman in my bed. So more on this, another time!
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Tales of a femme bottom
I need a place where I can write about my life as a sexual femme bottom -- so here it is, my new blog. Let me start off by letting you know this is a blog about my personal sex life so I will have to change (or not use names), and will probably change certain situations.
With that out of the way, thank you for reading my blog and I hope you enjoy it!
With that out of the way, thank you for reading my blog and I hope you enjoy it!
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