Birthday kink, and our "you'd be a spectacularly bad lesbian" joke

Last weekend was Fiancé's birthday, and as I've tweeted elsewhere, the VAST majority of my gifts to him this year were kink related. :) I can't tell you how much fun it was to wake him up in that outfit, and let him be the one to decide how I was going to make him late for... anything else we had planned that morning (I was about to say 'late for work' but it was a Saturday).

And we also threw a party at our apartment and everyone we invited showed up. Fiancé wore a bow-tie! He looked amazing, and adorable, and a little like the 11th Doctor, but much less dopey. :)  Crush helped cook, and prep, and that was lovely on so many levels. There were tickle fights and hugs with other amazing beautiful wonderful people that I wish I could spend every waking hour sort of orbiting. :) And then there was the spectacularly unexpected hour or so when Crush's wife fell asleep on my shoulder and I didn't dare move or speak, worried I'd break that spell.  Even though I know she's not interested in me in that way, that hour (or year... hard to say how long she was there) made me feel so amazing.  I felt trusted in a way I've never felt before, especially because not only is she a dear dear friend that I want very much to be closer to, she is also Crush's wife. More than once I had to try not to cry. Haha (I am such a dork.)

I still have a few more gifts for Fiancé coming (*shakes fist at vendor for being slow*), but Monday night was my second kink-related gift to him: I dressed in a corset, tights, skirt and heels, made dinner. On the table was a wrapped gift: a length of Twisted Monk's October Limited Edition Blood Drop rope (now sold out. Sorry.). I timed it in such a way that everything was ready when he walked in the door, and had all these pseudo plans of just pretending like everything was normal.  It was ridiculously fun, but the cooking-in-heels-and-corset thing taught me several new things related to my kink brain that I didn't know before...

For one, I think the "service" aspect of subbing doesn't do anything for me. I wanted to try it. Try to be a "good sexy housewife" just to see what that felt like, and I'm glad I did. But while I was cooking, it just felt like any other birthday prep work. I still felt good doing it, was excited for him to come home, but it contributed absolutely no kink-level things or arousal-level things or anything else beyond what I'd experienced doing this in vanilla.  Plus, cooking in heels was absolutely awful. That made me grumpy. Remind me never to do that again. 10 minutes after he arrived, I had to kick off those fucking shoes and spend the rest of the night sliding around in tights instead.

Other things I learned that night were how incredibly hot it felt to be in bondage and continue to do pretty mundane things. We watched an episode of The Newsroom with me in ropes next to him on the couch, and it was for some reason thrilling to have to struggle to figure out how to drink my champagne, and have the ropes tighten and grip me in new and interesting ways when bringing the glass up to my lips. And Fiancé's smile when he'd see me struggle, and how he'd keep hold of the loose end of my rope... just thinking about this makes me want to go shopping for a collar and leash, and buy him a million books on bondage so he can learn new and exciting ways to tie me up for activities that have nothing to do with sex. :) *swoon*

The sexytimes part of the kink night also taught me new things, some of which I won't get into because they are just more "yes, I liked that" and "no that didn't do much for me".  But one thing specifically I think is worth writing about: at one point, he made me taste myself, which may not seem weird, or boundary-pushing (because I know that tasting body fluids either on accident or on purpose sometimes happens a lot in vanilla sex) but for me, this was one of those Big Moments where I had to really fucking pay attention to how my brain would respond.  And having that happen recently also gives me an excuse to finally write the blog post I've had sitting in a half-draft state for weeks... I've been wanting to write about my fear of lady-fluids for a long time, but each time I almost hit publish, I chicken out. Well, not this time, bitches. I've got you now.

*ahem* here we go....

In the past, my fiancé and I have joked a lot about the fact that I'd be "a spectacularly bad lesbian". For years and years, pretty much forever in fact, even after I finally accepted and internalized my bisexuality, I've been pretty grossed out by the smell and taste of my own pussy. It was a very strong dislike. So strong that I used to really freak out if my partner tried to kiss me after going down on me.  With each new partner, I started integrating "Okay, and if you go down on me, you have to go brush your teeth afterwards before you can kiss me again" into the usual conversations about birth control and STDs.

And, inevitably, I'd get the funny look, and once or twice the question, "But aren't you bi?" Yes. I'm bi. And yes, I'm afraid of pussy. Shut up. Do you want to fuck or not?

It always felt to me like this embarrassing black mark on my sexuality. It made me feel a lot of doubt about my identity, and made me even question the validity of my own feelings... Even my "can't-eat-for-days" and "throw-up-with-nervousness-before-I-see-her" crush on The Woman, who blew my mind and made me feel more swoony than any other person of any gender I've ever crushed on before or after.  

This fear of tasting pussy made me doubt everything I felt about women. Like, maybe I'm not really bi. Maybe this is "just a phase".  And even worse "maybe I'm just crushing on women for attention". I was a walking, talking, breathing, case of biphobia, and no small amount of self-hatred for it.

Eventually, I kind of learned to hate myself less for it and just accepted that perhaps some people just can't handle the taste and smell, and that it HAS to be sort of common... but I'm pretty sure this continued to be a big part of why I was never brave enough to actually express my interest, or confess my crushes, to anyone but my journals, my livejournal (in pseudo-anonymous ways) and trusted guy friends (who no doubt got off on all my pining and swooning).

Fast forward, oh... 10 or so years from then to now, and not much has changed. While I've had countless crushes on women, I've still never had a girlfriend, never had meaningful sex with a woman, and my Fiancé always rinses his mouth after going down on me.  The difference these days is that I feel like this phobia is pretty childish. I'm an adult. And my juices are not gross. No one's juices are gross.  The rest of the world seems to be able to either push past their dislike, or as what seems more likely, actually deeply enjoy the taste and smell, so why can't I?

So, bit by bit... I started pushing my own boundaries. Secretly at first. Tasting myself on my toys and hands after masturbating. It was scary. But I was brave. It was gross and weird and strange... it turned me right the hell off for the most part, but I kept trying, kept pushing boundaries.

I reached a turning point not too long ago when while enjoying some solo time, I tasted myself and pretended it was the taste of a girl I was crushing hard on. And that was spectacular. I'd reached some kind of breakthrough.  For the first time ever, I felt the anxiety about all of this melt away.

I tweeted something about that the next day:

Yesterday, wanted to tweet "I taste myself and pretend it's her", but chickened out until now. Feeling braver. #crushinghard

— Inner Jane (@InnerJane) October 10, 2015

But that breakthrough was a little short-lived.  My changes aren't always straight lines, and this particular fear and anxiety still hasn't gone completely away (and I have some theories as to why, but won't post them here... if you're interested, and you are one of the few people who know who I am in real life, you can email me or IM me about this.)

But the long and short of it is that Birthday Kink Night was another sort of breakthrough/turning point for me in this area. Not in quite the epic way the first one was, but hearing the words "I'm going to make you taste yourself" from someone I love and trust so completely while also deep in subspace was a pretty fucking fantastic, and a pretty safe way to keep my brain from flipping its shit.  It did break me out of the headspace for a second or two, but only really enough for me to realize that I didn't hate that. So, I took a mental note, congratulated myself on the babysteps I was still taking after sort of relapsing over the last few weeks, and then continued to enjoy the night.

As an epilogue, I'll also mention that corsets are cool. (Read that in the 11th doctor's "bowties are cool" for added effect.)  Even cheap Halloween-quality corsets. I took pictures, but of course I can't share those with you... but the fact that I happily took some kind of reminds me of the breakthroughs I talked about in my last post. :) I'm still this "different person" that I became after my transformative Adventures at the Strip Club day and didn't careen back to reality with a crash or revert back into some older, more reserved version of myself after coming down from that high. This, and many other things in my brain right now, makes me very happy. :)