sub

Novacane

“I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.” – Buddy Wakefield

I remembered this as I lay underneath someone recently, my body being dragged and used any which way. And I felt old and worn down by the whole thing.

I used to adore rough,aggressive sex. I would like to believe I still do and that time, it just wasn’t done right, or it wasn’t with the right person, or I wasn’t in the right mood.

Something.

Something simply wasn’t right.

The next morning, the bruises that I used to look at with pride were an annoyance. As were the bite marks and any sign, really, that the act had occurred.

I realized, there’s an art to rough sex.

You can feel the difference between a lover who ravages you, while still being mindful and making sure that you’re both satisfied and comfortable, and one who simply wants to use you like a rag doll.

And possibly, when I first realized that I was a sub, before I knew what I know now, I let some lovers release their frustrations and use me as a stress ball because I felt that was how affection and appreciation was shown. Maybe because I thought one could FIND affection in the one who brings them peace, whatever the reason, I can no longer recall it and so see no reason to let it continue.

My views on sexual performance are pretty simple:

If I’m getting naked for you, appreciate it and treat my body well. 

If you get naked for me, I appreciate it and will treat your body well.

Experience has taught me that we don’t all view it the same way.  Possibly due to the fact that sex is so easily attainable and people seem to value exclusivity, most feel no need to make it a memorable experience for their partner, even if it’s just for one night.

Sex is usually really a trial run for me anyway, but even during that trial run, one gives their all. I don’t believe in the “It’s only once so it doesn’t REALLY have to be good” excuse.

If you want to be bad in bed, go fuck yourself.

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And Still I Rise: The Queer Version

After reading this.

And a heated Twitter rant here.

Came the following:

And Still I Rise: The Queer Version

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like sluts, I fuck.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

‘Cause I walk like I’ve got Beyonce chilling in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like Rihanna gets high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries?

Are you into BDSM?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Are you seeking a sub?

Don’t you take it awful hard,

‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got Gaga sashaying in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

You may try to read me,

But still, like Lindsay Lohan, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got the fountain of Youth at the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise I’m a vast ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling

Leyomi dropping and sashaying,

I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise

So don’t be a bitch, dear

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the closeted and queer.

I rise

I rise

I rise

 queer

I’m disappointed.

I’m ashamed.

And I can’t say I’m shocked but sometimes, I still marvel at society’s ignorance.

This is one of those times.